Everything should come to passe.....

I was sitting in the notoriousily crawling Doha traffic, on one of my afternoon runs, to pick up my children from the school. The English Modern school in Bin Omran area is roughly 15 minutes drive from my work which is at the heart of the Doha city. Of all the 6 or 7 months being here I have become more used to the endless delays, the seemingly uncivlized and rude drivers on the road and the problematic roundabouts that are the main cause of traffic clogs day in day out.

It was one of the days where I had nothing else to do other than crawl inch by inch towards the next roundabout so that I can negotiate my way to the left of the road to continue my journey. I looked at my watch, which is at the stroke of 1pm, the radio started playing the music prior to the French news from QBS. I can't understand anything, but a few words, of the French transmission. So, I muted the volume and stared out. The only thing audible was the deafening silence inside the airtight cockpit of the car, which was making me uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by....Gazing outside I can see the youngish looking guy yakking away on his cell phone to, probably, his girlfriend. To the back of my car there is a big overpowering white four wheel drive driven by some extremely rich Arab who is threateningly close to the boot of my car. I have no choice but to glance nervously over my rearview mirror to ensure that the big four wheel drive is not nudging my car. The Arab guy might be talking away on his cell phone and my little 4 door sedan may not be in his view. To the left of me I could see a middle aged, attractive lady checking on her lipstic or make up on the mirror of the sunvisor. I could see the policeman on duty at the roundabout frantically gesticulating to the oncoming traffic to pass. I am not very far from the roundabout but it might take another good 5 minutes before I can cruise freely...

My thoughts started wandering as I gazed back to my watch, rather impatiently, I could not help but stare at the seconds hand rythmically ticking away. The movements of the minutes hand and the hour hand are not obvious to the naked eye like a seconds hand, I quipped. Suddenly, the thought of time ticking away came to me...Wow!! The time that ticks away is not going to come back. The thought of passing time started growing on in my mind as the seconds ticked by. We are all rushing like the seconds hand of my watch, never knowing when our time runs out. It's a mad rush from dawn to dusk, we wake up, get ready, make ourselves up, go through our 9-5 jobs or whatever our day jobs, thinking that it is going to be the same till the end of time. One day this mad rush is going to come to a grinding halt, the time will come when the curtains go down on me and the guy next to me, the woman next to that guy, the arab guy behind me....The clock will tick on, what all I see around me will come to passe one day, that's the only certain thing in front of me right now, right at this moment. The sun will exhaust it's seemingly vast amounts of resources and will become blackhole eventually, we all will become fossils, I will be dead and gone, so are my wife, my kids and my grandkids and so on.....Everything that's around me should come to passe....including me...The realisation hit me hard..I looked my left hand resting on the steering wheel...oh...all of these will disappear, turn in to elements one day...the time will tick away and everything must come to passe....

Honk....Honk....the Arab in the four wheel drive behind me woke me up from my momentary wanderings, the traffic has started moving again, it could have been a second when I wandered off...but that moment too has come to passe. I pressed on the accelarator to catch up with the rest of the traffic....Yeah, everything in life should come to passe!!

A Yakshi and me.....

It was the year 1989 and close to the monsoon months in India. I was returning from Ernakulam to my parent's home in Kundara which is at least 160kms from Ernakulam. The summer was almost finished and the pre-monsoon rains has cooled down the weather considerably. I was doing my frequent travels to Ernakulam to fix up my travel documents for my imminent overseas trip. It was late evening when I finished up my business at Ernakulam and boarded a bus to Kollam. The only direct bus that pass by my home in Kundara leaves around 5pm, which I couldn't catch that day. I fell asleep on the way and it was around 12.10am when the limited stop fast passenger bus pulled over at the Kollam bus station. Weary and eager to reach home I rushed for the 12.30am connection bus that goes to Kottarakkara.Kundara is half way between Kottarakkara nd Kollam. I could get off at Hospital Jn. which is 1 km from my home at kundara.

Around 1 am I got off from the crowded bus to Kottarakkara. I thought of catching an autorickshaw to my home. In those days I used to smoke, though not a heavy smoker I did enjoy a fag or two. I bought half a packet of Wills filter cigarettes and started to look around for a auto. There were 2 taxis and a single autorickshaw. I approached the only autorikshaw driver to drop me off to my place. He woke up from his sleep and I had to explain where I wanted to go. The auto driver just gave me contemptuous look and went back to sleep in his makeshift bed at the rear of auto. I thought for a while about getting a taxi but then gave up the idea. Afterall it's only 1km from there, I thought to myself "let me not waste any time, let me walk". I lit up my cigarette and started my brisk walk. It was a full moon night, and the rain clouds were gone and it was nice and cool in the middle of the night. As I walked ahead I was thinking about many things, and 150m later I passed the LMS hospital and I started thinking about my father once used to work there, and the late Dr. Jacob Bhanu who died in a scooter accident in 1973. I strode past the hospital and the church after the hospital, then suddenly I caught sight of the "paala" tree on the right side of the road another 200 meters or so. Suddenly my pace slowed, all these stories and memories of the "Paala" tree become fresh in my mind....

Fifteen years ago when I came to Kundara to live with my parents, we lived with our cousins for a while. We all were of similar age. They all had stories about evil spirits and ghosts, some of them were called Yakshi(a blood sucking good looking ghost), Maadan(a ghastly creature who walks around in chains), then kuttichathan(a childish apparition mostly harmless) etc. Of all the ones the Yakshi was the dangerous one, she lives on the "Paala" tree and in full moon nights she waits beneath the tree and as men pass by she will ask them for "Chunnambu", one of the ingredients for pan. The men who are enchanted by her beauty will be brought under her spell and will be taken beneath the tree and she will suck all the blood out of them and dispose them off. As a little kid this story has embedded deeply in my psyche and the Kadamattathu kathanar story, a famous folklore I read as a boy, was still fresh in my mind. In that story the Kathanar(the priest) encounters this horrible vampire and defeats her by his divine powers. It was a fascinating story but it has created a lasting impression in my boyish mind which was already horrified by all these stories. To makes matters worse my grandfather, who passed away in 1988, used to tell us horror stories about all these evil spirits to his wide eyed audience, 7 of his grandchildren including me. He was absolutely convinced about what he was telling us and he had many times emphasised the "Paala" tree near the hospital is a dangerous spot.

I looked ahead and hesitated a bit. I looked at my watch and it was 1.20am. The Pala tree was seen at a distance decked in bright moonlight and very dark shadows beaneath. I just chuckled to myself thinking how silly I was to worry about the grandpa stories. I took a good drag from the cigarette and marched forward, by the time I reached the tree my thoughts were drifted away to something else...I might have paced few steps past the tree, and then suddenly I heard a big crackling sound from the tree, and I heard the leaves getting ruffled!! My instincts suddenly took charge and I ran forward with all my might...I stopped probably 50 meters ahead, and my sanity which left me momentarily returned. I looked back at the paala tree. It was still like before drenched in moonlight. I thought to myself how silly of me to give way to granpa myths. I looked for my cigarette, which was already lost in the sprint I just completed. So, I gathered myself and walked back towards to the paala tree fully determined to find the Yakshi, even if it was meant my end. I got closer and focused on the darker part of the tree just a few feet above the ground where I heard the noise. I reached up to my pocket and pulled out my cigarette lighter and held it high and turned it on.....my heart was thumping.....slowly my eyes got used to the faint light of the lighter flame. And I saw the Yakshi with my own bare naked eyes!! It was an owl with a freshly caught mouse sitting high up the branch!!! The noise I heard was the owl just flew in to the tree with it's catch! I just couldn't help laughing to myself, standing beneath the paala tree my opinion got more stronger that night, one has to only fear the living!! I just got another cigarette out and lit it up and resumed my walk towards home. In a few months time I left India for good. The paala tree was eventually cut down by the owner. Even now when I drive past the spot where the paala tree once stood, the memory of that summer night back in 1989 where I encountered the Yakshi comes rushing back, only to bring a smile to my face!!

Ravidamma(Ravi's Mother)....

July 2008, I called my sister in India for arranging our meeting when I visit India during August. Mid way through our conversation, Betty my sister, suddenly said "Chachan, Ravidamma passed away 2 weeks ago. Ravi has called me"! Something in my mind dropped to the floor and shattered to a million pieces. After I hung up, I stretched back to my chair and closed my eyes. Memories came rushing back to me, I could see the chapters of my life story are slowly being turned page by page, only to be consigned to memory and never to be reopened again!!

My mind went back in time to mid 70's when I was a wide eyed, naughty 10 year old boy......

It was one of the balmy summer mornings in 1975, I saw this Tamil lady at the gate with a frail looking dark little boy. Curious enough I ran up to them to check on who they are. It was summer holidays for us boys and we were having our daily morning run around the house. I was more interested in the boy she was with. I asked the lady, "Who do you want to see?"
In her broken Malayalam she said, " I want to meet Akka(elder sister), I am the wife of Annachi(In tamil it means older brother, a common usage for any older male)"....Ohhhhhh...this must be the wife of our barber Annachi and the boy must be his son Ravi, I thought to myself. I forgot to open the gate and kept staring at the boy, Ravi, he smiled back at me. Then suddenly she asked "Are the dogs on leash?", suddenly I came to senses and asked them to come in assuring them that all three of them are on leash. I called out to my mother, who was somewhere at the back of the house instructing the servants about that day's lunch. I could hear my mother talking to them, I ran up to her and told her that there is someone to see her. I followed my mother back to the living room. Ravidamma was, in every sense, a typical Tamil woman with her big bindi on her forehead, a big nose ring and her sari draped her body in a most conservative way you can think of. My mother knew they were coming to meet her so she greeted her in Tamil and they immediately started talking to each other like long lost friends, completely in Tamil. I couldn't understand their conversation, least did I know then it was the start of a life long friendship and commitment which would last even after my mother was gone!!
Suddenly my mother turned to me and said, "Why don't you take Ravi outside and Play?" I was so happy to get a new friend and I asked him to follow me. Ravi seemed to be very shy and soft spoken boy. He was to become my good friend for the next 6 years until we both got to college. There were no one single day without Ravi being at my place for at least an hour, and I used to wait for him. During summer vacations he and his family used to go away to Tirunelveli, their native place, for a month. Those were the most heartbreaking time for me away from my friend. When they arrive back at the beginning of May my summer holidays become live again. Still remember Ravidamma walking in to our house with "Mundirikothu"(a delicacy from tamilnadu).

My mother and Ravidamma become very close friends from that summer day of 75. Ravidamma was not socially equal to us. They had to survive on Ravi's fathers meager income from their barbershop at the main junction. He was from the old school, who couldn't learn or adapt to the changing trends of 70's hairstyles. It was the time of Bruce Lee cut, big side burns, bell bottomed trousers and outrageously long collared shirts. Ravi's father had a loyal customer base but he wasn't doing that well due to the limited income he was getting. Ravidamma started becoming a regular fixture at our home, she would come in around 9.30am and will leave around 6.30pm. When she leaves she would have some rice and the days curry packed up for her husband and children. Sometime there would be coconut and flour etc. given to her. During the day she would be with my mother, not as a servant, but as a confidante and a good companion like a shadow. For the next 25 years until my mother breathed her last she was with my mother like a faithful companion. Even my dad was sometime sick of seeing Ravidamma, probably jealous due to the bond they shared. It was tough to say anything against my mother and win with Ravidamma. Whether good or bad she blindly worshipped my mother and stood by her side in health and sickness.
I left India in 1989, and whenever I was there for holidays I used to see her fragile figure walking through our gate, going past our living room and going straight to my mother who will be in the dining hall probably watching TV or reading. Over the years her face started showing signs of ageing, but her bindi and the nose ring stood out. I got married in 1992 and I become an occasional visitor to our family home, but whenever I am there Ravidamma was there from 9.30am to 6.30pm without fail. By the time both my mother and Ravidamma was well into their 50's and has become grandmother's. But the bond that started in 75 was still unchanged, Ravidamma's world centered around her god, my mother!!

Ravidamma was a very devout wife, in the traditional Tamilian way. We used to try to make her say the name Rajasekaran, Ravi's father's name. No matter how much we tried she would never utter that name, purely out of respect for her husband!! In 1980 I left Kundara for higher studies, Ravi and myself drifted apart, we made new friends, we started going to different colleges and we were never close friends again. Although whenever we meet we used to talk fondly. This was not the case with my mother and Ravidamma. They were still thick friends, and she was a regular at our home that it would be odd to see her not there at our house!

Again in January 1999, I again left, this time with my wife and 2 kids in tow to Australia. That was the last time I saw both my mother and Ravidamma together. My mother was devastated to part with my 2 little girls, and I still vividly remember Ravidamma's face when I said good bye to her. We all were crying. In a year and half's time my mother would succumb to cancer, I never would make it to her death bed or her funeral. It would be another 5 and half years before I made it back to my family home, which was by now locked out, and in ruins. On June 11th, 2004 I drove into, my once, family home with my brother. It was a short trip and I was at Kundara for a few hours. I did inform in advance Ravidamma and others that I am coming in for a quick visit. Getting out from the car and to look at my parent's house was a devastating sight! Both my parents are not there, also my youngest brother....every thing looked haunted. We entered the house through heavy cobwebs and layers of dust. An earthquake the year before has displaced some of the lights and there were broken shards of glass every where. The dining hall where my mother used to spend most of her time watching TV and supervising our servants was intact, the way I left in 5 and half years ago. Then suddenly I heard footsteps outside. I came back to the living room, I see the very same sight I used to see for almost 25 years, Ravidamma walking in to the house!! Her figure has become even more fragile, her face was ravaged by years of struggle and worries, still her Bindi and nose ring were there!! She got into the living room, I stood there with mixed feelings and didn't know what to say. For a moment she smiled, it wasn't her usual smile, it was laden with emotions, bereavement, pain....everything stood still for few moments....I knew what was going through her mind....the stalemate was broken with a loud sob, suddenly Ravidamma said, "Mone(son), Akka was god!", I hugged her not knowing what to say. After a few moments she composed herself and started talking to me about how miserable her life has become, about Ravi's father's illness, about Ravi and his wife. I was running short of time, so I had to cut short her dialogues and was about to leave. I gave her some money and a Sari which I had purchased on my way. In another 15 minutes I was leaving our home and I looked back Ravidamma and our servant Saraswathy were at the gate waving good bye to me....That was the last time ever I saw Ravidamma!! I went back again in 2006 to our family home, but it was a very short visit, and despite my early notice Ravidamma wasn't there. I left her a Sari and some money with my neighbour who was in regular touch with her. He gave me a cell number where I can contact her, not her personal no., but no one ever answered my calls.

In April 2008, I was again passing by Kundara. I have already spoken to my childhood buddy Ravi on his phone couple of times. Ravidamma by this time was suffering from brain tumour and was in her final few months, perhaps weeks to live. I called Ravi from Kottayam and arranged to meet him around 6.00pm after he finishes work. Me and my brother arrived at kundara around 6.45pm and I kept ringing Ravi. He wasn't answering the phone. To my great disappointment no one picked up the phone and I didn't know where she lived, so I decided to leave it for some other time. 2 days later I was to fly out to Melbourne. I never got to see my mother's best friend and companion alive again!!

A life long worth of love and companionship died and has gone to oblivion. My mother is gone for almost 8 years and her companion is gone now....This posting is a tribute to their friendship and loyalty to each other, those who going to read through this blogs will at least know of you two! Rest in Peace Kamalamma, that was Ravidamma's original name, I am sure you have re-united with my mother in heavens, if there is one, and you two will be spending time talking to each other!! A tear drop in the corner of my eye is that all I can give you now.....You will be missed!!

Another October coming!!

It's been 8 years!!

It was Thursday the 5th of October,2000. I was getting ready to play squash at the Oakleigh Club in East Oakleigh, which is 10 minutes drive from our home in East Bentleigh. I was not in a good frame of mind to play the game, as my mother was seriously sick, back in India and I was doing an in between contract. I didn't really want to play but since I committed to my team mates that I am available to play that week, I decided to go. It's around 4pm, I am packing my kit then the phone suddenly rang. I asked my wife Mini to pick up the phone, but she was busy looking after our little girl Tanya, who was 3 years old and a very stubborn little girl. So, I went and picked up the phone, it was my brother Binny on the phone. I said Hello, my brothers voice hesitated on the other side of the phone, suddenly he said, "Chachan, mummy died 9.30am"! For a moment there was a stunned silence between us...a lot of thoughts flashed through my mind. Out of the blue I replied to my brother, "hey we both are now orphans!!" Emotions were overflowing....I felt a numbness, a total detachment from the emotional side of the death in the family, of our dearest mother!! Suddenly I asked my brother, "What are your plans, I want our mother to be buried soon, I am not coming. It will take me 2 days to get there and it was our parents wish that they never wanted to be kept in a mortuary. So, make arragements for the funeral". My brother hung up saying that he need to go so that he can inform all our relatives and make arrangements.

By then Mini came to me asking about the call. I turned to her and said, "Hey, I have become an orphan now, mom is gone!!" Her blank stare pierced me...may be she was shocked to see the cold and blunt way I conveyed the news. She came and hugged me. I was totally numb. I told her, "hey I have to go play this game". To which her reply was should I go play. I said I have to, I made a commitment and I have to honour it. In 5 minutes I was in my Toyota Cressida driving to the club. I was playing for F troop at no.2. I didn't tell anyone about what happened. It was business as usual, when my turn came I just went down to the court and just demolished my opponent in less than 20 minutes. We won the night 3-1, everybody was happy. After the game we all went to shower and change. As we came out of the change rooms, I told my good friend and team mate Daryll that I am not staying for supper. Doug, our non-playing captain came running to me to see why I want to leave early. I just took him and Daryll aside and told them that my mother has just passed away and I am not in any shape to socialise. I still see the bewilderment on the faces of Daryll and Doug. I got into my car and drove back home. On the way I was thinking about my mother, how I left her back home a healthy person and how our lives changed in the last one and half years!! She was suffering from breast cancer, secondary cancer to her lungs. In a way an end was a relief to her. Many years later I learned from sister that my mother breathed her last longing to see her first born!! I just couldn't fulfill her last wish and I left my mother distraught. I am living a guilt ridden life ever since, 8 years on the wounds are still fresh, I bleed, I hurt every moment when I think of my mother!!
When my father passed away, in the following weeks when we were trying to recover from the shock of dad's passing. On one morning while I was having my morning tea, my mother and I entered into a conversation about after life. I still vividly remember that conversation where we made an agreement that whoever dies first, and if there is way to come back to communicate, we will do it. We both were grief stricken at dad's sudden demise and it seemed like a good thing to talk about it. On that night of 5th October, 2000 when I was driving back that very conversation kept ringing in my ears...8 years on I still miss you mamma, if you see me or if you can feel me, please know that I loved you and I still love you. My wounds are still deep and fresh...and I will never be at peace as long as I live mummy...Another October is coming.....