MY MOM THE GREAT

The mother character is always depicted and is universally accepted as love incarnate,love personified and a special creature born to bring forth,nurture and suffer for her offspring.And I in particular have no different view of the same .But it is rather a tough task to write about ones own mother without incurring the boredom to the readers since each and everybody has the same idea about motherhood .You can only experience it and bringing it to words may sound insulting to the institution of ultimate bondage.Any way I am giving it a try what ever be the outcome .
She is around 5ft5in, imposing, slightly fair skinned more towards the blacker hue,with what you may call the photogenic face,towards the plumper side, in short, the middle aged lady living the next door .Ofcourse she is the most beautifullest lady to have graced the earth .In,fact I have been closely associated with her for more than 25 years and what more do you want for being an impartial judge or witness .But she is really a tough nut to crack in the sense that though she is an epitome of love of which I am sure, she is a tough task master and discipline is her forte, at the same time sensitive,too much sensitive that every word I uttered or my body language would cast severe ripples in that small head of hers .She dressed neatly and her lazy gait was a treat to watch ..Pride and stubborness continues to be her strongest and weakest assets .She always looked after us like an aggressive lionessShe continues to be the greatest cook and rasam is my favourite.She doesn’t dole out love like any ordinary mother but the scoldings she sprays out give me a security I don’t get else where and I am in peace with the world in just her presence .When she ruffles my untidy hair with oil with her rough hands and angers at my thin and lean frame by giving a violent slap on my back I feel at home and nothing else matters more .What I dislike most in her is her obsession to neatness which is anathema to me . I always had a secret suspicion that though she loves me a lot she loves her other children a bit more which I cannot tolerate .
What interested me and baffled me at the same time was her relationship with my dad who is an entirely different species and introducing him to you all will take an eternity and ofcourse it will help in improving my shoddy English and improve my hand writing as well and I dare not now .Since time immemorial I had the fortune to see them only as antagonists and never as a hus and wife even though their marriage was as usual an arranged one,then what would be their attitude if it was a love marriage ,I shudder to imagine .Are all these couples uniform in this aspect ,I repeatedly query myself .Then why is it that they chain themselves for decades together ,is it for the childrens sake?or for the sake of the society or is it that they cannot survive otherwise out of habit or dependence. My Jupiterian telescope can scan in to the depths of their minds and am ableTO VISUALISE A CERTAIN TYPE OF BONDING WHICH NOBODY ELSE COULD .
They are made for each other ,otherwise how could they be so totally different in their tastes, attitudes, their interests, and hobbies .Their only common quality that I could perceive was their super bloated EGOS and not yielding an iota to the other lest one should lose .Inspite of all these what brings a sad chuckle to me was their dirty habit of putting a common front to we children as if every thing was hay and healthy .But we would suffer their silence and that silence would thunder our house and our tender hearts with the force of a gale .I could blame my mother only for most of those pitched battles since she was so sensitive a fool that she cannot even enjoy a joke hurled at her ,then what about the criticisms that my dad specialized in .As for as he was concerned she was an insect and if it happened to be a bee how could he tolerate its bitter stings .Inshort both enjoyed the pain they could inflict on each other and loved licking the deep hurts before beginning the next bout .It was a way of life for both of them and we children suffered the worst because they loved and cared for us,infact they lived for us since we were their only common bonds .For them marriage seemed to be a business contract where the partners are supposed to give so much input, whatever may be their difference of opinion, for a generous output .The absurdity of the whole thing was that these two partners were excellent in their departments,one the home making the other at office work .The ultimate result was that the business prospered and the partners suffered like Leander and Mahesh Bhoopathy .I used to wonder why they don’t separate if they had to live like this .The only answer I can surmise is that they knew each other to the core of each single cell and each knew that the other was the best each could get in this funny world of ours but the saddest part was they could gel together only as water and oil as long as they couldnt vanguish their EGOS which they could never hope to be since then they would no longer be my my mother nor my dad both of whom I love and admire most .

FANTASTIC VOYAGE

It was one of those eagerly awaited saturday evenings and the medical college mens hostel was coming to life to prepare for the week end celebrations . Most of the boys were busy washing , bathing ,and spending hours before the mirror awaiting the college bus which will take them to the town along with the ladies and will be returnig back late in the night after all the theaters , hotels and bars were closed .
But for him it was not to be.It was the third week end and as usual he was totally broke .He sat alone in his room brooding .Gangu was busy bathing and had refused a loan for Rs.10.The room reeked the rancid smell of fresh wet clothes of Gangu .He took out a dinesh beedi from under his bed and began to smoke .Life has been too cruel to him and the stingy old man will never send in excess of Rs.150.The mess bill will eat out Rs115 and he had to survive for thirty days on rs.35.The budget would cut out his Panama cigarettes by 15th and he had long ago learnt to live without soap,powder,oil and even the toothpaste all of which he “ossed” from different friends at different times of the day when they were away from the room .But how could he live without seeing Prem nazeer and Jayabharathy films or without booze or for that matter the canteen .
Jesudas music was blaring out of next room intermingled with howls of varying nature and pitches emanating from the corridor .He felt like an insect.The college bus soon arrived and the fortunate ones were leaving. Their laughter lit the hostel and soon their footsteps couldn’t be heard and Thomas chettan had started the bus on its way .The hostel suddenly fell silent and the dinesh beedi burnt his finger tip.What a way to live ,he thought and silently glanced at the Hutchisons and Das with disgust .He heard the door open and saw Antonys and Georges heads peeping through..Antony laughed “Pattare! Not going to town?Broke?.Don’t worry we are here to give you company.”He was in a better mood and seating himself comfortably eeaked out a beedi ,offered one to George and began singing in his terrible voice .
Have you tried “ stuff “George asked me .Oh no I replied . I am mortally afraid of that thing after hearing the experiences from Gangu .But we have no choice said Antony and besides it is really good,all depends on the mood he wised , not withstanding the fact that it is available for 2 Rs a pothy sufficient for three beedies. So that is settled.He went out of the room seeking the mess boys to get the stuff from the pan shop which caters to all the urgent needs of the medicos in distress .I was feeling the butterflies in my stomach and a vague fear and excitement was building up.Soon Antony returned and from his face I could surmise the success of his mission. God is great and let us all go for a walk and try this stuff ,it smells good and fresh and I have rolled out three beedies ,says he with much glee.I prayed to all gods to make things easy for a novice and we all start off singing merrily,the hostel looking at us as a silent spectator to the drama about to unfold .
It is imperative that I should have to give a rough sketch of the topography of the scene .The hostel is perched on a hill top and it usually takes about 15 minutes to climb down through a zig zag narrow man made path fenced on bothsides with tapioca plantations to reach the tar road below about 1 km from the college and another 10 miutes walk to reach the so called canteen near the main hospital building.Ofcourse there is a bus route to the hostel on the opposite side of the hillock but nobody will dare to walk through that course since it will take an extra 15 minutes to reach the ground level .The so described territory to the canteen , though a bus route, the locals as far as possible avoided especially after dusk and the traffic was also negligible making it a medicos favourable hunting or sporting ground .
So the three musketeers started navigating their way through the narrow path .Antony the great guru who was one year senior to them lit the first of the precious beedi and inhaling deeply passed it over to me reminding me to take a deep puff, withhold the breath for as long as you can and slowly but steadily exhale and then close the eyes for a few seconds . I did as ordered and passed it over to George.Nothing special and I sighed in relief though a little disappointed .The second round was also completed and we were lazily climbing down .The stars and moon lighted the sky with their smoothening brightness and kept strict vigil over us as a mother .As soon as I closed my eyes after the third puff the whole world had shifted to the second gear and a queer sensation began to entangle my head rather the brain proper .It was as if all the electrical circuits of my brain had gone awry and several short circuits occurred and two fuses were blown away turning the world around me bizarre. and scary ..Antony was engaged in a fierce conversation with George and lo the switch on and off pattern shuddered my ears .I could hear two or three words bellowing from his mouth followed by a long silence as if radio was switched off and suddenly the audio was switched on . and I could hear few other words confusing me totally and I continued my walking saying “hm..hm” as if following his conversation .Soon the audio volume increased to a feverish pitch and suddenly the pitch dropped down to a whisper and disappeared completely to the tapioca shrubs below .I was in acute distress and Antony sensing my agony cried out “Pattaru pimpiri aaye” and laughed aloud the sounds hitting my tympanum with the force of a gale. And I closed my ears involuntarily .Soon they forced me on the fourth puff which took away the weight from my body . It felt so light and the gravitational pull was easing off and allowing me to levitate a bit ..My legs were no longer touching the ground like the modern magnetic train. .No I couldn’t fly and reach the stars but I could prove Newton wrong .We had by now reached safer grounds below and the tar road was a few feet away .
Suddenly something had gone wrong with my foot work in my walking. I couldn’t spot it but I could definitely sense it .Yes the answer was not that far away and I felt elated . I was putting my right foot forward and the left followed .I corrected and started walking forcing my left foot first and followed it with my right. But that didn’t work and my foot work was in shambles and I COULDN’T MOVE ONE STEP FORWARD .I had forgotten the art of walking and felt like a child..I tried different versions of foot work with out any positive result ,rather I had begun moving backwards .George was walking beautifully forwards and I admired his precise foot work . But however much I studied his art of walking I couldn’t locate which foot he was moving first and felt restless In my anxiety to move I tried both the the feet at the same time resulting in my total bodily contact with the tar road .Antony came to my rescue first and scolded what the hell are you doing ? no dancing please.The public are watching you .”Who is bothered about the public when you have forgotten to walk”,I retorted .Since movement forward had became an ordeal I tried to use all four limbs and lo ! I am able to move forwards and I felt proud and soon made up the lost ground crawling forwards .My knees have started bleeding .Both of them eased me to one side of the road and the first BREAK was announced.They pulled me to the shade of a tree and fresh water was showered on my face and the ultimate puff was administered to resume their way forwards .
Some how or other they reached the canteen intact .Antony ordered two ghee roasts for all .I felt hungry and thirsty after that long journey .I was feeling an alien to myself like a witness to myself and surveyed the crowded canteen .It seemed as if all the customers were staring at me in open contempt and I lowered my glance.Soon the waitor arrived with the plates.I looked at my dosa and the mouth watered and the tongue had come to attention and the acid secretion in the stomach was gearing up for the meal. .I took out the first piece and chewing a little bit pushed it deep in to the gullet for its onward journey to the stomach .Suddenly the bolus gained a violent momentom and shot through and fell with a bang into the lower part of my stomach taking me by surprise and agony .I looked all around to see if any body has witnessed .Nothing special . I regained my poise and tried the second helping with lots of sambar . This time the bolus took a slow motion course through my food tube stopped for a few seconds at the door of stomach and abruptly took a plunge and exploded on the stomach wall and I had to suddenly grip my abdomen to soften the force of the thud. .I panicked and involuntarily swallowed a mouthful of water and it became a waterfall and discharged itself in to the crater and moved forwards gaining momentum until I couldn’t tolerate it anymore and I ran out of the canteen to the amazement of everyone . I ran fast in to the darkness and brought the whole mass out in to the open by a process known as reverse peristalsis ,or as the commons call it in a simpler term the art of vomiting .My stomach eased back in to position and I started the long trek back to my hostel .
The night was getting old inspite of the new moon and the stars kept me company ..there was not a soul in the horizon and the road stretched ahead without any end in sight .I trudged along slowly but steadily and prepared for a long sojourn . The time stretched agonisingly. And I felt a lone passenger loosing out to the TIME battle . No I wont give it up like a coward and marched on and on till eternity .The moon was going to set and the light was fading out slowly ,still I couldn’t have any glimpse of the hostel atop the hill. Only miles and miles of cold tar road ahead . I felt marooned and my resolve and courage were slowly ebbing away . Have I lost my way.I looked up at the stars to show me the way and began praying “ lead kindly light---- lead thou me on .BUT NO STARS CAME TO MY HELP and I began to run here and there and after a long time of this madness which had already lasted several hours I had no more energy to last long in the desert of the long stretching road to eternity. I STOPPED AND BEGAN TO THINK ..Some sense of sanity prevailed.It was quite dark now and it doesn’t make any sense to carry on not knowing where one was going especially when directionless .So I sat on the side of road .It would be much better if I rested a bit ,got back my energy and resume my onward journey once the sun was out and some life returned to the road .So I undressed my lungy spread it out on the side of road and went to sleep, eagerly awaiting the dawn .
“ Get up you lousy beggar” thundered Antony ,which woke me up in the morning in my bed . “We hurried after our dinner worried what happened to you , whether dead or alive until we saw you soundly sleeping stark naked in the veranda of the chapel hardly 100 feet from the canteen “.