My blood boils

Normally I don’t write a blog until I zero-in on the title in the mind. That more or less sets the tone and pace of narration. I had “Ides of March” for this tale but that was before I spoke to latha yesterday. 

            When 2018 began I made a promise to myself that these blogs would steer clear of these four characters: mother, siblings, sindhi for enough has been written and said on them to the point of saturation.  pushpa is dead on these pages for it is a story that is nipped a long while back, amma also is not a live bank account for she is terribly sick but both my siblings are devils-in-motion and there is no avoiding the pain and hate in these pages.

            I get a call from viji, my eldest sister for those new here, saying,” Amma is very depressed and I am taking her to Hyderabad for a week.  Can you please give Dr. Manisha’s number?”

            Dr. M came on the line next day saying, “Your sister called and I advised that if your mother is so suicidal the trip is better postponed.  Sathya, hearing the symptoms I think your mother needs constant supervision.”

            The mother and daughter went to Hyderabad on 10^th March, Charminar Express and I get a call from the she-devil on 13^th March with an excited shriek like a person who is  fast drowning. Said viji: Amma, is so embarrassing. I am going to put her in an old age home. Even the neighbours here are raising questions.”

            I said,” Look viji, I don’t know whether you are the patient or amma. I offered to take care of mother in Besant Nagar. I also helped you on the psychiatrist whose advice you conveniently ignored.  Come to Madras and we will take a call when your nerves are not so taut and jumpy.”

            This conversation got me rattled. This family is so poor that it cannot even give an aged person very close to the grave some breathing space. Of late "v "keeps threatening the old woman, “Behave properly or you go to an old age home.”  That has gone deep in amma’s psyche and that really terrifies her more adding to the already sick dormant depression in the mind.

            I was livid and I wrote on viji’s whatsapp page: "Better go to a church and become a Christian. You have not learnt the lessons of love and care and compassion. And if you treat mother so callously and dismissively, the odds are not so high that you will have a pleasant and peaceful death when your time is at the end.”

            I went to Vipassana on 14^th morning and came back on 18^th afternoon. I really felt sad that I couldn’t do a thing to add some grace in my mother’s last few months on earth. My earnings are nil over years, I am alone and yet I told "v": You and latha are worth over 5 crores and I am minus 5 lacs yet I have a much larger heart. You sick women!”

            I spoke to maternal cousin Mr. Srinivasan who said, “Both your sisters have no heart at all. Even the sight of a dying woman does not soften them.” Then Shyam who is my well-wisher commented over a whatsapp call, “Looks like both your sisters have not seen much suffering in life and hence act from a high pedestal. Life has a way of teaching these dolts.”

            There was no message from viji after 13^th and yesterday I called latha to test the waters. She was fuming,” viji was very upset with your mail. Amma is very depressed. Please delete my email id and don’t send any mails” I hung up and felt so disturbed that I walked down for the second Gold Flake of 2018, I told myself that both these women are lining up for a public humiliation that I will dish out. At a time and place of my choosing! Both these bitches see AMMA has a burden and it is for this reason I would live to see a day when these worms suffer the slings, boulders and Bofors gun of destiny. 

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I had a wonderful time travelling with Mr. Narayanan Subramanian from Alandur Metro Station to Dhamma Arunachala in Thiruvannamalai on 14^th morning. He is my newest friend that I met during my last month’s 3 day sitting at Dhamma Setu in Chennai. He is 72 years, full of zeal of a new convert to Vipassana, a successful businessman who is affluent both on the money and people front.

            Seated on the front seat with him on the wheels of  a Honda City, he said, “Sathya, I have some guiding principles in life. NO ARGUMENTS with anyone, each one is entitled to their views in my presence. NO ADVICE, I hate to give unsolicited advice and that is the best way to drive people away from you. Any time I worry about my business in a downslide, I make it a point to NEVER INTERACT WITH NEGATIVE PEOPLE. They will justify my failure and advise me to visit an astrologer.”

            I mention this for I find this simple rule a wonderful discipline to follow in life. He joked saying,” I meet a 87 year old and another 80 year old every evening near my residence. Each one talks in turns and no one interferes with their opinions. Once it gets dark and mosquitoes start to harass, we disband and go to our homes. This is one human interaction we all cherish. It is such a privilege for people to talk and listen in our times.” He even bantered, “I call this deaf and dumb friendship.”

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It was this 72 year old friend who said on my Pongal+vada business,” You will burn a hole in your pocket. My daughter-in-law is in the catering business and what you need to succeed is a passion for food and ability to cook. You have neither the mental side nor the cooking side; so better do any activity closer to your skillset and that is what nature intends of you.”

            This wisdom nixed two weeks of my planning on launching myself as a food caterer.  In the 4 days of meditation this idea started to take root and grow deeper: how about starting a neighbourhood weekly on the lines of Adyar Times? Those fuckers have 20:80% content to advertising. I can generate a more even spread at 60:40 and what more I will make for engaging reading.”

            Since then I spoke to couple of friends. This is money guzzling business but it can meet a premature death three months later and set me back by 15 lacs in which case I would have to SELL the Besant Nagar apartment or it can make my debut as a editor of India’s richest colony like Besant nagar and I may even be invited to dumb debates on Republic or Times Now or CNN News 18 when those Delhi fuckers need a Chennai angle. Meaning, I can be a city celebrity with this NEIGHBOURHOOD weekly if it comes off. On such a razor’s edge life goes on. Forget the humour but I am sinking and given the current murderous rage in my heart, I am most tempted to blow my brains off if I can get hold of a gun. Now I realize why America is a great country.

Life is tough

Imagine me having a kidney trouble and it needs transplant? Any obliging friend or relative and a kidney to spare; you must be joking. Living alone means that you have no father-in-law to worry about his daughter’s impending widowhood. In my case no one will pick the tab. Why go so far as a kidney, no one will even give me a lift if the career lies completely broken down and needs a desperate helping hand.

            I feel beggarly to ask favours and I am overwrought with shame each time I approach others. It is downright gross to ask, “I am looking for an opening in soft skills training. I am willing to do a free trial, do you know any company will play host?” But seriously the other side is just heartlessly dismissive. I asked my IMT friends on FACEBOOK who read my blogs to come to aid; everyone says,“ Sathya, you are a sun hidden by dark clouds. It is a matter of time before they clear away,” as though such a warm sentiment will obviate any need for practical assistance. We truly live in a self-centered world. Latha invited me for her son’s wedding, next invite would be Gautam’s baby’s first birthday or Aravind’s wedding whichever is earlier and nothing in between. People have seen me on the BEACH a million times, they have seen my tears and epic Greek struggles but there is none who will stand up and volunteer help even if it means to identify a tenant for a master bedroom that I advertise in the papers. This is some tale reflective of the chaotic times we all live in.

            I had 6-7 calls for the advertisement on 25/2 in Adyar Times. There was one 78 year retired Major of the Army who wanted a bigger place for storing things, he said, “my children are in AMERICA and I need a place to keep things.” He found my place a bit too small for his needs though I did not wish to transact with a septuagenarian which could be a race to death between me and him!!!! I had another 61 year old advocate who wanted to start a “speed post kind of postal” service. This fellow quoted law every sentence and I was so scared that he would be charge me with a summon for refusing to rent the place. Then a builder who said, “I am looking for just a place like this on the main road. I want a skeletal office space where my Accounts man can work. But your place does not have a separate entrance.”   

Then I had a 50 year company executive and recently divorced looking for quarters. This man’s mind worked slower than a tortoise for I had to repeat the terms half a dozen times till I got a throat ache (seriously this is no literary gag to generate a laugh but a medical condition of abusing the throat). I did not like the idea of sharing this flat with this man; he had that Rahul Gandhi level of intellect where 2 plus 2 would be the escape velocity of Jupiter to solve India’s health problems. Or connecting all the MRI scans!!!!

The only person whom I felt favourably inclined to rent out was a 18 year old drummer and this guy was super cool and super smart as he said,” I am doing my 12^th standard. I am a drummer for this group and we play in night clubs and malls. I am looking to rent out for a recording studio.” If I have this fellow as a tenant the first thing he would do is “soundproofing” the room and that would mean a major renovation work on the walls. Not worth the trouble for a 7 k rental income and so that fizzled out.

My break-even earning for a month is 35 k and I realized that at 7 k rental income I am only one-fifth down the least earning slab. Below 30 k I have to sell the house and retire in Chingelpet; Besant Nagar becomes out of bounds for me. So I am a cat on a hot tin roof to fix my earning source or I simply crumble under.

            My days are long. My arthritis is so severe that save for a morning walk I have no energy for a second expedition in the day. I spend my time on South Africa-Australia series or listening to music or guitar. But the best part is I sleep like a log in the afternoon which makes my night sleep a lot light and fluffy. I feel a Kumbakarna on some fortunate days when I hit those deep sleep keys, I take a while to reconcile with the waking world. Truly such depths of sleep is a blessing of nature. I also try to get in an hour of Vipassana but otherwise my world is ALONE and ABANDONED save for Iyer mama who I meet in the morning walks.

            T H Iyer mama is 85+ and he cares for me. Yesterday he got me a GERMAN HAIR OIL when he learnt that my scalp suffers from dandritus or some such medical condition where after 25 years of dyeing my hairs, the chemicals have done so much damage that any point I can make little balls of dead tissue much like digging the nose for a time-filler and fling this small balls of filth in the room which means I have to sweep them every day!! Iyer mama calls me at least every alternate day. He says: Chant Om Iim hreem shreem aiswarya Lakshmi namaha every possible second in the day. Not only that he gifts me a picture of Aiswarya Lakshmi. Another person who cares is Vivek and this week he is in Assam making tigers and hippopotamus pose for him in Kaziranga National Park. Seriously, my mind no longer wavers on the question of “who I would like to be in my next birth”.

            I saw “To Kill a mocking bird” at American Centre and loved it. I felt that Amitabh and SRK must be shoe shine boys for Gregory Peck; this man had a kind of screen presence and dignity that I have not seen before on celluloid. This week I went to Escape on Express Avenue to watch “Three billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri” and I loved the abrupt climax which I felt was outrageous. Frances McDormand deserves an Oscar for this. This is my third OSCAR best picture nominated movie; I plan to watch at least three more in the coming month.

            Maybe chanting Aiswarya Lakshmi slokas got me this brainwave. I am sick and tried being a CONTENT WRITER for 11 years not even earning subsistence incomes. My earnings are so abysmal that even bus drivers and conductors and auto drivers make more money than me. Which got me thinking: no more WHITE COLLAR job. Let me sell PONGAL, VADA and IDLY and see if I can net 20 or 30k. I am deadly serious as I explore on delivery boys and maybe outsource the cooking part. This is an idea growing stronger in the mind and truly Narendra Modi is a genius when he says that you can earn a decent livelihood selling Pakodas. Maybe this is the only profession which comes with no corporate slavery and no slights to the ego.

            Pause to consider: Had Chidambaram sold Pokadas his son Karthi would not be such a jackass as to indulge in so many scams and get caught or for that matter Nirav Modi and Choksi fellow. The answer to all questions is SELL PAKODAS. I hope and pray I have a better fortune selling PONGAL and IDLY than I had in the content writing space and soft skills training. Welcome to the new me; I will go down fighting or maybe soar. Wait and watch this space.

            Or maybe this is better. In the last 8 months I have known people croak suddenly and no warning. Prakash, Vasanthi, Thangam’s landlord who had darshan at Tirumala in the morning and died upon reaching the plains in the afternoon, and Vivek’s friend in USA. At times like this, I would love to join the brigade. Life is tough and I would rather die abruptly than suffer in degrees; die than rot kinds.