THE MAD RACE

I wonder at the species called homo sapiens .What a variety! Short& long , thin & fat ,black , white, yellow , arranged in genders, castes, clans, communities , religions ,the communists, the capitalists, the secular, the monarchies ,the democracies ,the republics, the mobocracies and what nots .The common thread in all these races being the weak against the strong, the majority versus the minority ,the haves versus have nots ,the male versus the female , the society versus the individual, the war of the classes ,the caste wars , the rulers & the ruled and now the terrorists. This world is a funny place to exist.
The major version of trend of life being , getting educated , procuring a decent job ,making money ,finding a partner ,making kids ,growing them up in the typical stereo typed version and then die. In between you lead a life , fearing every thing from god to policeman ,the politician ,the teacher ,the govt servant, the doctors , the lawyers ,the spouses even the the house maids .You learn to live the smart way , bribing even your own mother ,the object being , hoarding money , to jump the queue to the next upper level ,then the mad rush for power ,social recognition at any cost and the fun is , you train the next generation for the very same thing at a more hectic pace.
But among all this mad rush to no where , you meet or hear about certain oddities which surprise you ,an I I T graduate spending 12 hrs a day preparing food and taking care of the orphans and elderlies in the streets of varanasi ,or a middle class man taking on the mighty through RTI and getting killed, another one spending 40 years in prison for a fight to freedom like a Gandhi or Mandela or Martin luther king or a scientist struggling for years to make a discovery ,or the mad adventurists risking their lives in arctic sub zero temps or making an ascent of the everests of the world or the doctor couples back from U.S working for the tribals and living with them in Attapady for 20 years. You also hear about devout terrorists struggling for a cause which they do not understand and ready to blow up themselves and other innocents as well. What is it that separates these people from the mundane? Is it what you call courage! Or passion for values or the human instinct to resist oppression at what ever cost ,that motivates them to fight a losing battle for most of the times. Is it another form of extreme selfishness manifesting as selflessness ,I wonder.

SORRY

Sorry Athimber [that’s how I address my father] ,
This one I have tried to write for You since a long time but never had the guts to attempt. O.k I have failed You most of the time, but the one thing I regret a lot ,was my inability to communicate with You ,except for the last 5 years when You tried to come open with me, which I cherish a lot. Most of our relationship has been a hide and seek game, You playing the disciplinarian and me a pseudo rebel, resisting You tooth and nail, though we both knew the underlying current of love, which we tried to mask. But from your life I learnt a lot unknowingly, to stay anchored to the ground, to struggle and save by curtailing expenses, to recognise the true value of Re 1, never to bother about what society may think of your actions or attitudes, not to compromise on certain basic principles and to say NO openly even to your close ones, when it is easier to say yes and then scoot.
The communication gap between us started to eat me, only when I had reached my fifties and then , one elderly engineer from our colony had a talk with me regarding problems he faced in his senility and the attitude of his children. He told me point blank ‘man! You can shout at your father or yell at him, but never IGNORE him, that will be the worst punishment you can inflict on him in his old age. He needs to hear your voice , at least to reassure himself that you are there for his mental support .Doctor!, please take up the phone and say hello, nothing more’, he asserted. I just prayed for the earth to cave in front of me and take me to its depths, I was crestfallen. After 2 days I took up the phone and soothed hello. After 3 or 4 calls I noted the change, You had started talking to me, taking me to Your confidence. The rest never needed any effort and my guilt was dissolving rapidly. It was then I understood why You kept calling me to come for avani avittom or deepavali, when I know You gave a hoot to these days, You in fact craved for my presence near You when everybody celebrated . I cursed that engineer for not accusing me at least 10 years back, since I could have had 10 more QUALITY years with You.. In those 5 years You confided Your greatest struggles, Your failures and disappointments .But You also left me with so many unanswered questions. You never asked me for anything till Your death, but that was Your nature ‘being independent’ .But my regret was not, for taking You to any trips or cinemas or hotels, since You wouldn’t have been at ease, I know ,but not for giving You my quality TIME, for which I cannot forgive myself.

THE LOST FRIEND

I see him coming out of hall C .Infact I have been searching him for the last hour or two. You may even go to the the extent that it is for a glance of him that I have traveled all these 100 kms and taken leave for 3 days to attend this conference itself, putting in to jeopardy nearly 100 pairs of eyes at hand. Yes my eyes zoom to focus the short sturdy figure emerging out of the shadows and my face unknowingly drawn in to a genuine smile,. and the heart letting out a sigh of pure pleasure. How many years of this search I ask myself?
The man in questine is around my age, of a fairish brown complexion,short so to say may be 5.5 footish,as neatishly clad as he always used to be,the whitish French beard adding a tinge of ageing to his beautiful well chiseled face,every part in exact proportions and seated perfectly in place. As he comes out in his lazy elegant measured steps, the hall mark of the personality,soon our eyes meet, the surprise takes him aback for a millionth of a second,before his quick strides reach me and we hug through our glances.
We had scarcely met each other nor contacted over e-mails ,not even a hello over the cell for the last 31 years.We had been class mates for just 2 yrs during my postgraduate days at Calicut Medical School[1977-79].The fact was we were diametrically opposite to each other in everything from A to Z. He was a gentleman in the true sense of the word and me a little devil.He was soft spoken and a man of few but precise words where as I was hurrying open brat. He sipped and I gulped...He was meticulous,neat,hard working bastard and I detested him for his professorialness and his utter gentlemanliness. But yet we got along well, so to say even gelled together crudely.Though he was thoroughly disappointed with my dirty, fast and revolting attitude and wayward habits I could smell a tinge of love for me. .Infact he just endured me tenderly like an itching wound. Those 2 yrs I just floated in space and time ,but firmly chained to the reality through him..He used to spend most of his time in the library after hospital duty,taking notes in that beautiful handwriting of his.Though all attempts to reform me proved futile,he forced me to take my exams with his notes and just because of him I became an ophthalmologist by default..At that time I had no time to analyse our relationship,but one thing was sure , I felt totally at ease in his presence even without any communications and there were no strings attached,an unconditional sort of relationship.I was more of the demanding type bragging all illusory problems,he was a patient listener and supported me mentally.He was my anchor.
Our paths diverged and I slipped to govt side and he went the academic way and life took its toll on us both. Only twice we met later,first time at a banquet for an ophthalmic conference in Calicut, when I was totally in command of my inebriated brain and he took lot of pains to tuck me in to the train to cochin to attend my seemantham next day,which was a story in itself,and the second time I had taken my father for a cataract surgery under his care when he had already became head of the department.
Now in the twilight of my life, when I look back, I realize to my horror that I had plenty of company but never any real friend to boast off. Deep inside me I know I have a strange friend,a friend with no communications but still I care a lot about him.If this relationship can be termed, an ‘ unrecognized or malnourished’ friendship, Mathai Shanti can be labeled my one and only LOST FRIEND. Poor fellow he doesn’t know yet..