When death came calling.........twice.

I'd reached office a trifle late as there was something that had to be wound up at the residential complex and while on my drive, my cellphone had rung a couple of times. So, on reaching, my first task was to see as to who the caller was. It was my friend breaking the news of the death of a classmate at 3 o'clock, this morning.

I couldn't believe that Balagopal wasn't with us anymore.

And soon after, Joe rings up from Bombay to say that he needed a reservation to Thalasserri tonight to attend to his father's last rites.

.....My flight has been called. Will fill up on the details on landing at Delhi where I'm off on work.

PS.

Joe's dad had seen his end coming. He was 89 and had no medical problems but 48 hrs prior to his passing away, he was confined to his bed, which had upset him no end. He'd told Joe, over the telephone, that he could not accept the helpless state that he was in and it was better that he left the scene and that's exactly what he did about 48 hrs later. RIP sir, my humble prayers!

Balu was known among us as an outright prankster, who spared no one to get his dose of mirthful laughter. His consuming a whole bunch of bananas on the basis of a bet with another friend showed that element of lovable craziness that was the hallmark of his personality. Somewhere, in between, he'd taken to the bottle which scarred him with weakened innards and had ultimately paved his early end. I just can't believe that his smiling face will never ever be seen again. RIP, Balu. Each one of us who've had the privilege of knowing you'll miss you.  

The pantomime is being repeated.

Sarabjit Singh is precariously ill and under ventilator support at the Jinnah hospital at Lahore. His immediate family is at the hospital premises, perplexed by the games Pakistan seems to be playing in the name of diplomacy. They've spurned India's request for his transfer to this country for better medical management.

Sarabjit has been on the death row since 1991. He'd raised alarm about his life being unsafe in the jail after the hanging of Afzal Guru and had conveyed his concerns to the jail authorities - was it a premonition or did he see it coming, what with the sustained hostility and intimidation from the other inmates! He was attacked with bricks and other sharp objects which had caused serious injuries resulting in him being comatose.

And diplomatic games are being played with scant thought to the finer feelings of the immediate family. Is his life that insignificant to be ignored? And why's Pakistan doing this again and again - is it because it knows that we follow the spirit of the Geneva convention, to the last letter? We're once again reduced to being helpless spectators while a rogue state is taking us to ransom.

And on the Chinese border, we're witness to the second pantomime. The latest sitrep is that they've pitched a fifth tent, 19 kms deep into our territory at Ladakh. One can only term it as audacious provocation! I was particularly amused with a statement made in one of the newspapers and I quote, "However, no aggressive moves have been made by either side at the stand-off point". The hollowness of the statement rings loud against the fact that the Chinese are deep within our territory by 19 kms!!


Tailpiece.

I'm sure the government will bring about a solution thanks to the hectic parleys that are being undertaken at the military and the diplomatic levels.

PS.

Sarabjit was convicted of spying for India and involvement in a series of bomb blasts(trumped up charges? We'd never know) in 1990 and was housed in Lahore's Kot Lakhpat jail. His life must have been miserable!

Playing the patriarch!

We'd set off from my sister's house by 8 o'clock as the venue of the wedding was about thirty kms away. This function had to be attended at any cost as it bore a lot of significance and importance, which will become clear as I go forth with my narrative.

Krishnan is one of the bright young lads of my unit. He'd lost his father, last year, in an unfortunate family feud wherein, one of his grandsons had pushed him in the midst of a scuffle and he'd hit his head on the concrete floor to go into a coma, from which he could never recover. And the fight was over a silly property dispute!

He has two sisters, one elder and the other, younger to him both of whom are settled, tending their own families. His mother is still recouping from the shock of her husband's passing away and in the meanwhile, he'd got his marching orders to leave Kochi shortly. It was due to this reason that he'd decided to marry and move to his new station with his wife and mother. I'd got his move deferred to facilitate this arrangement and he was keen that I should play the role of the patriarch, to substitute his dad at his wedding! A heavy responsibility indeed but I'd to deliver without upsetting his father's elder brother who, was actually supposed to play that role.

I was pleasantly surprised that the elderly gentleman was only too keen to abdicate his role as he made a disarming statement and I quote, "we've given our Krishnan to them and it's they who're responsible for him at work. I'm only too happy to note that Krishnan is in mature hands". I felt that my responsibility had increased tremendously and as I went through the motions of the ceremony, it was as though I was conducting the wedding of a son that I do not have!

May you both have a long and happy married life and here's wishing that you get whatever you wish for.


Tailpiece.

The crowd, that I'd the privilege of interacting with, was made up of simple people. Wonder why a fight for property could shake the foundations of this simple family?

And somewhere into the ceremony, my identity as my grandfather's grandson was revealed and I was thrust into the limelight for no rhyme or reason!   

A nice drive and a memorable call.

It was a hectic day. After tying up the loose ends at work, it was kick off time to Palakkad to a packed itinerary. Since the shortest route had traffic snarls, quite frequently as the widening work was in progress, we'd opted for the longer one - via Guruvayur, which facilitated us to have a look see of our house too!

The highway had comparatively less traffic, wonder why? Probably, because of a few political roadshows that were on for the weekend on this route!!

On entering Palakkad town, we headed straight to Geetha. She has been on treatment for cancer around her uterus over the last four months. Lekha and me were seeing her for the first time after the commencement of her treatment. In fact, we'd seen her last at a family function in December and she'd looked really unwell then. The diagnosis was done a fortnight later and her treatment had started in right earnest soon after. The poor thing had to undergo a surgery and six doses of chemotherapy - the last of  the chemos is scheduled next Wednesday.

Usually, such a sequence of treatment saps out the individual in a deep sense - I've seen it in a few and had felt miserable, because of impotent rage, at having to be a meek and helpless bystander! But in Geetha's case thankfully, there has been a change for the better. She's cheerful and has retained her zest for life. She's the 'Yul Brynner' look but I must admit and had told her that she looks even more beautiful, now and no, I wasn't fibbing!!


Tailpiece.

Geetha, attaboy girl! You've shown what mental strength, coupled with a positive outlook towards life can do to a person. May you get back all your laughter and everything that you wish for. Take care and I shall pray for you. Promise!!

And Valsakumar, you've been the perfect foil and a pillar of strength. Hope you're taking care of yourself too.      

A junkie?

I'd to visit the 'path lab' to give samples for analysis. As I'd said earlier, my veins disappear conveniently on such occasions giving nightmares to the medical attendant at hand. Today was no different, in fact, it was worse than previous times!

I'd made it a point to be a trifle earlier at the sample collection point. The attendant was a young man but appeared, recent in induction and was a thoroughbred 'mallu'. After giving me the initial instructions in Hindi, he was poised to draw blood from my vein but alas, my blood vessels would not budge. He went on an exploratory spree after inserting the needle into my skin and was able to hit dirt on his third attempt. But the trickle of blood was a bit too slow for his liking. He kept muttering something incoherent and so, with an utter bankruptcy of thought,  I'd inquired of him as to why it was happening.

His answer surprised me. "Sir, it's because you've less blood" and looked at me seemingly, with accusing eyes. It just couldn't be because many of the people who're familiar with me say that I'm a 'bloody, jolly good fellow'. There must be a terrible mistake and I wanted to shout out, but kept quiet keeping in mind the decorum that had to be maintained. The youngster had started panicking because he'd 'poked' his senior many-a-time and had managed to draw only half the amount that was necessary. He desperately turned to the sister at hand, complementing him in the sample drawing business, for help and advice.

The sister's reaction was unexpected and pathetic. Quite audibly, she says insensitively and I quote, "Keep all the people, with whom you've problems in drawing samples, waiting or ask them to come later. We can't waste our time on a single person". That was the time that I felt that I should intervene and set the wrong, right. Without raising my voice nor losing my composure, I reminded her as to why she happened to be there, as to what she was supposed to do when a junior looked up to her for support and told her that if all these were hassling her, she could put in her papers and go in search of another job. There was no dearth of dedicated nurses who'd do the job better and in an efficient manner while being courteous to the people they serviced, which was the sine qua non of the followers of Florence Nightingale's traditions.

It had the requisite effect and she apologised(?) for not realising as to who I was. I'd to tick her off yet again by saying that the 'rank' or the 'class' of her customers should never come into her reckoning while doing her job as everyone was to be served on an equal footing.

It was getting to be too much for comfort and I just wanted the whole thing to be over at the earliest.


Tailpiece.

1. By that time, the youngster attending me had hit the right vein and was apologetic for his clumsiness. He'd switched over to chaste Malayalam a little while earlier. And this is what I've noticed of the 'mallus' - they speak all other languages when they want to be officious but finally, come down to their mother tongue when their chips are down!

2. And I was looking a junkie after so many visits of the needle on my arm!!

  

Another dent!

Driving through the comparatively narrow roads and a large volume of traffic, over a period of time, might lead one to be a lunatic for sure. One's fellow motorists are of different hues and I'm listing down a few of those characteristics:-

    (a) The obnoxious. The ones who drive with a gay abandon. If he's behind you, he uses the horn
         to intimidate and shall not rest till he overtakes and while doing so, he glares at you for having dared to
         drive ahead of him.
    (b) The 'couldn't care less'. The ones who select the lane of their choosing and drive at their own
          pace. He expects you to take avoiding action, overtake through the limited space that he's offering you
          without complaining.
    (c) The discoverer. The ones who're on a continuous state of inquisitiveness as they drive all
         over the road as though its width was insufficient. In the process, if he were to 'kiss' your vehicle, he'll
         expect you to take it in your stride, as everything goes while driving and you need to be
         accommodating!
    (d) The sadist. The ones who're perennially on the look out for cheap thrills at the expense of
          their fellow motorists. Indiscriminate use of the horns, drive at varying speeds to allow an unsuspecting
          driver to overtake only to be overtaken soon after and be driven off the road when he passes by
          rather close at an unwieldy angle are their weapons.
    (e) The decent. The ones who drive, literally, by the book. He drives at reasonable speeds,
         uses indicators well in time to indicate his intentions and is never unhappy when someone overtakes
         him. This tribe, however, is fast gonna be extinct!

The two wheelers and the autorickshaw drivers use the roads in unimaginable ways making you wonder as to whether they've acquired the ownership rights! They overtake from both sides, stop suddenly without warning and use the horns in an unlimited sense.

One such guy, had stopped suddenly in front of me at the middle of the road, to disembark his pillion rider as I was driving back from work this evening. And as I was waiting for it to move off, another two wheeler rammed into my rear bumper causing a fairly visible dent. I think I've said earlier too that I'd ignore an injury to myself but any 'injury' to my vehicle upsets me, angers me! It's not the expenses but the marred looks that affect me!!

My heart sank as I saw the gash and yet another visit to the service station has been necessitated.


Tailpiece.

I'd got off my Chevy and had spoken to the guy who'd done the damage. He gave me his contact number when I'd asked for it and seemed to have accepted his mistake. No, I've no plans of squeezing the damages from him but that deliberate act of getting out of my car, conversing with him to understand that he'd realised his mistake had calmed down the anger that was rising from deep within!

I need to grin and bear it. And thankfully, I hadn't created a traffic snarl by my action and the two motorists immediately behind me were watching the sequence of events without being impatient!!
      

A scary sight!

I was on my morning walk and there was plenty of early morning joggers, walkers and a couple of people walking their pets. It was still dark, the early morning Kochi was playing her role to perfection with the sights, sounds and smells that I've, by now, become familiar with.

The uniqueness of these days is the continuing call of the cuckoo. The changing weather pattern, perhaps? It exhilarates me always though I must hasten to add that I ain't been able to reason why. Probably, it could be that some of the exuberance with which the cuckoo calls is passed on naturally!

Today was no different. Soon after my tryst with the bird, I was in for a rude shock. There was a loud sound that rent the air as though someone had fired a pistol. Soon after, smoke had started emanating from a black coloured car parked by the roadside, in front of a building that housed offices. And immediately after, tongues of flame were visible from under the car's bonnet. A couple of early morning customers who're having their cuppa at the roadside tea stall on push cart, on the opposite side of the road, were struck by the sight and as I approached them for a cellphone(I do not carry mine when I'm on my walks as I feel that any caller could wait till I was finished with my exercises!) to summon the fire force, I heard one among them already at it.

The fuel tank should not catch fire - that was our collective prayer. Meanwhile, a volvo bus which had come by, seeing the scary sight, had lurched itself away from the burning car and snapped an overhead television cable to add to the confusing sequence of events! Anyways, two fire engines had arrived by the time and had commenced their fire dousing activities soon after, without much ado.

Realising that I'd nothing further to do, I'd resumed my walk.

And this entire episode was being played out at the doorstep of the Malayala Manorama!


Tailpiece.

Well, I'd only heard about parked cars exploding by themselves and seen some of them in movies but to see it in real life was an experience by itself. Felt bad for its owner and only hope that the insurance cover of the vehicle was indate and adequate enough to tide over the loss.