Pangs of settling in

#158

I don’t know why I write these blogs. Maybe a flicker of a distant thought that someday someone will read these pages and confer me greatness – Tchaikovsky or even the greatest Mozart became famous posthumously. But this year, my resolve, is less personal, less self-centered.   

            I came from Dindigul on 6/1 and I had a huge laundry list of tasks in front of me. Within two days I had setup the modular computer table, re-assembled the sofa-set (I saved Rs. 3000 asking the deckup carpenter to help after he pieced the table together), got the MI person wall-mounting the smart TV, set up the kitchen, replaced a cylinder tube, got a Hathway broadband for a staggering efficiency. I looked at myself with wonder, even God would not have been so resourceful, a quality I never associate myself with. To my self-image – often erroneous for I estimate my worth a lot less than reality beckons- I am a theorists and a supreme thinker. I take as much as 3-4 days rumination even on a petty thing like a haircut simply because I don’t want an extra ounce of work for my poor knees.

            Within a short time, I became a regular Swiggy customer – I found myself fleeced Rs. 50-60 for every delivery though they saved my knees a whale of a trouble. In the new house I found myself consuming less calories for I was eating a lot less. Bemoan the guy who depends on Chennai restaurants for four squares a day!!! Slowly I start making coffees and teas, another day even upma but something is missing. Besant nagar is as much a professional whore of a metro but I got used to it. Each time I stepped out of my abode (you are supposed to chuckle here) I ran into familiar faces for half-raised greetings and eye-contact. Here no one knows me. This is paradise compared to buses zipping down Seventh Avenue in front of my house, here I spot couple of cows grazing in the fields for a complete contrast. The best of Besant nagar was everything was within my walking range, here it’s 500 metres to ECR and my knees curse me in the vilest words the dictionary can afford. Besant nagar is a whore but it felt nice on the system, Palvakkam is a heaven that needs getting used to.

            I am a poor reader; I have long stopped buying books. Then last month I ordered 4-5 books on Amazon for a solar eclipse rarity. The books came and promptly went to the shelves. Now I opened Philip Freeman’s “Alexander the Great” and it caught me by the scruff of the neck. I just love everything about ATG.  Nature does not produce a ATG than once in a 5000 or 10000 years; he is Bhima, Arjuna, Duryodhana, Sakuni and Karna combined except real in flesh and blood. I venerate Buddha through every cell of the body but my heart and soul belongs to Alexander the Great. In the one week in the new house I could not have found a greater inspiration than the battle exploits of this extraordinary man 2300 years ago.

            I met two people this week who deserve a special mention. Dinesh was the Hathway executive and at 23, he looks the best salesman I have come across. Yesterday Ashok came to configure my desktop for the Wifi. I have known him for a decade as he said, “Sathya Sir, anytime you have a heart-attack I will drop everything and attend to you.” Such nobleness, I am indebted more than words.

            I am 50 now, I have lived alone for 13 years without a minuscule of support. I never doubt my resilience or survival instinct, I see myself in the class of a Hercules, Achilles and ATG for my inward journey was no less breathtaking in scope as their war exploits. But if God were to appear and ask for a boon from me, I will say, “Bring it on old man. Take me away for a well-deserved respite.” 

            HDFC is the worst possible bank in India. My housing loan is now more than 4 weeks old by which I time I got my apartment registered with my own funds. After sleeping for 5 weeks those guys tell me, “Now that you have registered property, there is no point in a housing loan. But we will consider you for a mortgage loan.” I need 25 lacs with the urgency of a next breath; I need this money for trading and a part-payment for Kumbakonam property. I am annoyed, exasperated, intensely irritated and frustrated and throw in all the synonyms. 

            Yesterday I saw QUEEN and Kangana was outstanding. I felt she has earned the right to put a foot in her mouth each time she opens it. Which reminds of a drink I had with Ranga at Maris and he says, “Sathya, we have two orifices; anterior and another in the rear. People who speak without thinking is farting; there is no question of a volition here. Sadly most people in our age use the anterior for a propaganda and posterior for speaking.” Ranga comes with such priceless insights, I learn as much in his company than what life throws at me almost each moment. I will end the ramble with this tailpiece: Viji’s husband, my brother-in-law, invited me for a Pongal lunch that I gently declined saying, “An electrician has promised to come tomorrow. It’s a new house you see, so I very sorry to miss this feast," for a white lie. The invite is as much a wonder as the hanging gardens of Babylon or those pyramids in Egypt for my folks wake-up after 32 years. There is one thing about Alexander I envy; in those days men slit others throat at the slightest provocation while here I am in 2020 who can’t even slap a fellow human being.  
              Welcome to 2020, I am as cynical as ever and my writing as potent too. This year looks a make or break, I will make it even if I have to beg, borrow or steal or even kill. Finally I am learning. Thanks to Alexander the Great.