Three days and the Journey continues ...

Short Story

Day 1

The Kurla Express was more than punctual today, strolling into the platform No 1 of Calicut railway station like a Giant serpent roaring and hissing all the way. Never in my last five years have I seen a train or any other public transport arriving so  early. As any other Keralite , I tried to take it as a positive gesture as I needed to stay optimistic to keep going. On any other day as any other traveler I would have been happy to see the train . But my mind was in chaos. I began thinking , has it come  too early to bring me closer to the inevitable.

We have our own way of getting into a public transport vehicle. One foot on the foot board and one hand held firmly to the steel  handle , then push and re- push. Don’t forget to squeeze the poor souls who are trying to get out and while you are in. With much of hustle and bustle , I finally managed to  obtain a window seat. I would rather cancel my trip than sitting anywhere else. I have always behaved like an adamant child when it comes to the window seat. Have you ever tried to change a child’s attention from his favorite candy. Wrestling, bullying , pleading ,begging , I have even offered money for it. I have many reasons why I preferred that position. I always loved to view the world through that small window. It gave me the feeling that I am just a small part of this vast universe and a very tiny drop in this endless ocean of humanbeings. The running trees and buildings reminded me how fast the life changes and  the cool air hitting my face always refreshed my mind however disturbed I am. Secondly , I could rest my head on the window so that I wouldn't hit my neighbour with my head when  I fall asleep. Lastly , I could easily pull the chain when something goes wrong . I was just joking as it would be the last thing to do . I would rather prefer somebody else to do it and loose Rs 5000 . With a rocking movement like a cradle the train gained momentum as it raced on the two parallel rails.

People had settled in their seats. Journey in a train was almost like a picnic. Most of the travelers were employers who travel daily and hence they get familiar. People would bring their breakfast and share it among others, play cards and pokers, discuss many things from domestic to politics and even impeach the American president. Just a week ago I had travelled in the same train with a different mood and purpose. But I had now no interest in all these. Last week had suddenly changed my life. A sore throat which I had been ignoring with over the counter medication took me to a doctor when I noticed my voice change. An almost casual visit to the doctor got me worried when he advised me a specialist consultation as he suspected a swelling in my throat. It’s funny how my doctors explained my disease. My first doctor called it a swelling or nodule. But the specialist who did an endoscopy called it a plaque or growth which he feels was “ potentialy” dangerous. So he takes a piece of it and sends to for testing. Now what I don’t understand was how a swelling is different from a growth, and how does a ‘growth’ become more dangerous. The report was even more confusing. The doctor said that there was increased cell division and something called mitosis which frankly I didn’t understand. I remember from my primary class that it has something to do with cell division and growth. So I was again cornered to the same term , “ growth”. But I thought growing was good. Whatever , the doctor needed to recheck my report at a higher centre , so here I am with a piece of my body in a formaline bottle, which was growing and could turn my life upside down. But what I understood from my doctor’s face was that I was having something which frightened even the experienced doctor.

“Paldesi paldesi chana nehi, muche dhodke muche dhodke”, I had almost slipped into a slumber when the famous song but in a cacophony woke me up. An emaciated tribal lady in a shabby dress with an equally dirty child was singing at her maximum. She has something like a wooden piece in her hand which she was rhythmically clapping and the child was spreading his hands in front of the travelers for money. I wonder why these people never try to correct their lyrics, nor did any of the spectators. Most of them just threw pennies at them just to escape from their torment. Most of the travelers were sleeping or half sleeping. A school girl was busy reading her notebook. May be she had her exam today. A well dressed man in his sixty’s was trying to take his bag from the upper rack with great difficulty. The train had already reached my destination. I took my bag with great care and towards the cabin door where a group people were ready to push their way through. It was already late evening , so decided to stay a motel for the night.

Day 2

I got up early the next day or to say that I didn’t sleep would be truer. This has been my routine for the last one week. The moment I close my eyes my mind wandered off to my childhood memories, school days , the court yard where I played , the ponds where I went fishing with my friends, the trees which I climbed , the dogs which I chased. Everything would just come in front of my eyes and haunt me. The sun was yet to show the light, yet the day had already begun. The news paper boy was on the run with his pile of papers. He was may be the weakest link in the news delivery system, yet if he fails to deliver them hot all the work which preceded him would be a waste. Ladies were strolling to the nearby temples clad in neat and white saris. They were probably the reason why many boys were attracted to visit God. Everyone was live and playing their part in this cosmos. The sun slowly lighted up the earth.

I reached the medical centre in time. I handed over the bottle and the investigation form to the receptionist. She seemed quite unconcerned seeing my probable diagnosis. May be she sees hundreds of patients every week and that must have hardened her heart. But she could had at least smiled. They asked me to come the next day. So I had the entire day with me. But that was the most agonizing thing considering my state of mind. I had lunch for namesake at a hotel nearby. I didn’t want to go to the lodge as the loneliness was unbearable.

I decided to spend my evening at the sea shore. Watching the waves roaring towards the shore bringing everything it has towards the shore. But however big it becomes it has to just leave everything at the shore and return empty handed. It is almost the state of humans. He gathers all the fancies of this world, but has to return empty handed whoever he may be. He just has to face the inevitable alone. There were not many people around except for some elderly couples who came for the evening walk. This again annoyed me for some unknown reason. Watching the waves coming in alternatively I lost track of the time. The orange sun had already half dipped into the sea suddenly tears came flowing from my eyes. A strange emotion filled my heart that I couldn’t stand there. Seeing the sun set filled my mind with thoughts of doom and sorrow. I hurried from the place not even waiting for the sun to vanish in between the waves. My mind was in anguish even after I returned to my room. I didn’t have the habit of taking sleeping pill and didn’t want to start one. I remembered a joke which I read in a magazine about I prisoner who was asked about his last wish on his day of execution. He first thought of asking for a cigarette, but then refused least he would make it a habit. My situation was not in any way better than his.

Day 3

Surprisingly I had a good sleep. May be it was going to be a good day for me. The news paper boy and the pious ladies were right on time. I liked the perspective that everything was as it should be, but was not sure what was right fOr me.

I reached the medical centre a bit late. They told me to wait in the visitor’s room. There were a few people anxiously waiting for their call. Seeing these souls comforted me, but this was surely not a company I wanted to be in. I had to spend an anxious hour before I was called. I was accompanied by a nurse into the doctor’s room. He was a middle aged gentleman with grey starting spin webs on his hair. He showed me the chair and asked the nurse to leave us. He had a pile of papers in his hand which I supposed would be my reports. I wondered there was so much written about the small piece I brought. The doctor asked me some questions regarding my complaints for the last week. After a small pause he took of his spectacles, kept it on the table and took the reports. I closed my eyes and sharpened my ears. The doctor was speaking in clear language but I could not hear a word. I slowly opened my eyes , but the only thing I could see was a long dark corridor with a tiny speck light at its end. I understood that the journey was just beginning for me and slowly started walking  towards it.

By the eldest son

The Newcomer

"Between the earth and sky above, nothing can match a grandmother's love."  Author anonymous.



My only daughter gave birth to her first child, a boy who is now 7 years old and is an inexhaustible source happiness for all of us especially for my wife. She  had the opportunity to look after him when he was a baby and his mom had to leave him with her to go to work. Ever since he began to speak , he calls her as mom and not grandma. One can very easily watch the emotional attachment between them and understand how much his grandma loves being called as mom.

Our grandson is so tender hearted that when we return to Doha after our vacation he finds it difficult even to take his meals saying that he feels sorry as memories of his grandma sadden him . Once when he visited Doha with his mom, he took with him a Hindi song CD. But after returning to India, when the CD was played to let him listen to his favourite songs, he said that he did not want to listen to it as it reminded him of his grandpa and that he felt sorry for being away from him in spite of the fact that his grandpa unfortunately belong to that category of people who take things for granted, fail terribly in expressing their feelings and find it hard even to smile at others. Our grandson is an exact replica of his father in every respect and mingles very easily with others .

When our grand son, Insaf, was born, I was one of the persons present in the hospital . One cannot forget those tense moments while waiting outside the labour room, every one waiting eagerly to welcome the newcomer to our family and running to the door when ever it was open assuming that the nurse was looking for them and I recall how we were relieved when the nurse informed us that our daughter had given birth to a baby boy. When my wife delivered her youngest son in Doha the whole process was entirely different. I literally handed over her to the hospital where none except a female ayah is allowed to stay with her and went home . I don’t know if I had slept that night but can recall that at midnight I received a telephone call from a nurse known to us that the my wife had delivered a boy and that I could visit her next day only. She remained in the hospital for one day and was discharged and we had to settle no bills as medical care is free of charge in Doha.

In early seventies when my sister  complained of labour pain at our home, I was asked to bring the midwife living in the nearby village. I recall how I accompanied by our neighbour Karapputty’s mother went on foot to the midwife’s house . We had to walk for about half an hour to reach her house at midnight . But to our pleasant surprise when we reached home together with the midwife  we found that my sister had delivered a baby girl and both the mother and her child were safe.

The other day when my eldest son informed us he was also joining the rank of fathers, I took it for granted as usual. A few days ago when my sister asked me whether there were " good news" from our son who had married in December, 2010, I wondered why people chase the newly wedded couple soon after their marriage and start posing questions if there is "good news" or not . Did they forget that time has changed and marital happiness is now days measured by postponing childbearing?

What ensued after the flash news released by our son was a jubilant atmosphere in which every one rejoiced and me remaining silent expressing no feelings .Discussions between his mother and sister soon started on what to name the child when would be the delivery and who has to be with my daughter in law during the month of her delivery. It seemed that every one was waiting for the news.

Latest reports from Chandigarh where my son and his better half live indicate that my daughter in law is suffering from  morning sickness. But when we saw her  on the Skype we realised that  he condtion  was  not as worse as  we had thought and that she was  far better than her mother in law  when she began to carry her first child in 1978. She was bedridden  without drinking or eating any thing nor was she speaking to any one. I had to hire a taxi and take her to her mother  whose face  turned pale   when she saw us as if she had expected something unpleasant  as it was a surprise visit. When I explained the symptoms she was relieved.

My wife has begun to follow her daughter in law very closely asking her son to abandon his callousness, to take special care of his wife, ensure that his wife was eating well though it was long distance and remote control care. She is very lucky like every one else these days since she can video-chat with his son and daughter in law live through Skype whereas in 1979 when she was hospitalized for her first delivery in India and I was in Doha , I had to wait for hours after booking a trunk call just to talk to some one and enquire about her and even after getting connection through the assistance of a friend of mine working in the telephone department in Doha it was disconnected before completing what I wanted to say. In those days the main means of communication was letters which took more than a week to travel from India to Doha and sometimes it never arrived due to some mistakes of postal workers in India or Doha. I remember the tension while opening the post box and the disappointment while not receiving any letters from my kith and kin. Those were days when every one travelling from the gulf to India and vice-versa had to carry a large number of letters and deliver them to the addresses after reaching their destinations. Those letters provided the readers with an ineffable pleasure and one enjoyed reading them time and again. Now a days when we chat we feel that we are missing something and we don’t feel the fervour and zeal we had while reading letters in the past. Today’s pleasures are instant and bubble like and not perennial as it used to be in the past.

By The Father 

Still Waters

By the Niece

Emotions

By the Niece