Down the memory lane…..

 It was not until I walked in to perform my father’s tri-pakshika that an unexplained sense of uneasiness hit me hard. I struggled unsuccessfully to regain that inner composure to perform the monthly death ritual. I think Srinivas Achar sensed this and did not mind correcting me this time. Perhaps, all these days, I was taking solace under the axiom that it was an end to his pro-longed suffering and so death was good. I came home, switched on the TV only to see the news flashing that SL Bhyrappa is no more. Suddenly the fingers of time played a heavy chord selection on the emotional strings of my memory guitar.

Two things that I and my father spoke a lot on; Books and Bollywood. Of course, it was him who introduced me to both; but over a period of time, on both fronts, I had carved out a niche of my own. So the debates concerning Books and Bollywood were always extended and serious. My father had this habit – He was always curious on what I read. Since it was one of the books from his own collection most of the times, he used to sneak in during my reading session to ask me – “what did you find interesting in that book” and then he would give his perspective.

I recalled a few lengthy conversations that I had with my father on SL Bhyrappa’s works, particularly his autobiography Bhitti, in which Bhyrappa has documented, in detail, the struggles of young self Bhyrappa. My father, somewhere deep down, had this delinquency that he did not do much for me and that I would do better in life if he had managed to facilitate my upbringing a little more structurally. He had said that he did not have the same delinquency about my sister because he knew her limitations, I had laughed it off, saying we both have anyway done good in life and it doesn’t really matter now. On many other occasions, we had debated on SL Bhyrappa’s other works too – Avarana were both our favorites. He did not like Uttara Kanda for some weird reasons. For some weird reasons, Lankesh was his favorite; But I hated him! Even to this day, it hasn’t changed J.

And then there were the Bollywood debates. He was a very serious movie aficionado. People who know him know how much he ate, drank and slept cinema. For the records, he has also compiled all his Kannada Prabha articles on Movies in a book named – Nenapugala Reelu Bichhutta (Translates to Unwinding the reels of memories) #TrueStory. I told him many times that is he is wasting his Cinema gyan, by not writing columns and anecdotes on national dailies and weekly magazines and monetizing it.

I had even told him very seriously that “If I were you, I’d work on a thesis and get a PhD on Bollywood”. He forced on me, his opinions of movies which were technically brilliant, but I wouldn’t get them because the stories were really duh! Movies like Pyasa impressed him, but I wouldn’t watch such movies at all and branded them “Patho”. For me, Bollywood was means of winding off after a busy day at work or road. So my go-to movies were the likes of Sooryavansham and Meri Jung - One Man Army, ROFLMAX! Occasionally, there were middle ground days where we both would watch a great movie together like Anand or The Guns of Navarone.

And then, there were the usual Indian middle class gyan :

“You guys are enjoying the capitalist regime. So you won’t understand the struggles of our Nehruvian socialist regime. I used to chase the BTS conductor to get the 75 paise change that he used to write on the back of the ticket so that I can use it for tomorrow’s journey “

“If you work hard and study well, you’ll do good in life. If you don’t take studies seriously, I don’t have money to buy you even an auto rickshaw"  (Hell, yeah. All my friends used to mimic this :)" 

The electricity and water bills that I am not willing to arrange as per the date; The LPG cylinder that he always remembered to book on time, but I am missing; Such small memories remind me of him and remind me of the void that is created without him. Along with it, it also haunts me with the memory of a feeding tube running through his nose, going down the throat and reaching his stomach; the memory of all skin and bones, at the mercy of doctors, his arms tied to the bed; his eyes, helpless and ruminating on the very nature of his existence. Arghhh!

Gods forbid, if at all, any of your loved ones’ life comes to this point of choosing between enduring cruel clinical procedures that does not come with any hope and a natural end, surrounded by his loved ones, choose the latter! I mean it. I know this is a million-dollar question, but be firm and choose wisely. The broad sympathies and discerning insights needed for the healing of earthly woes cannot be a mere intellectual consideration. As my father would have liked it

“Babu Mashoy….. Zindagi badi honi chahiye.. Lambi nahi”

Does Amma deserve sanctity?

My mobile flashed. “She is dead and this time it is irrevocable”; said dad’s pun intended text message. After all the media tantrums about Amma being dead and coming back to life several times, dad finally confirmed that she is really dead. The only little perks of dad being in the press are that I get breaking news a little earlier. Since yesterday evening, the way media is fostering her accomplishments and her life, her path to righteousness and so on, I’m pretty sure she’ll attain sanctity after death. But does she really deserve it?

Even Superman is Amma fan!

I don’t know much about her past and since I grew up in the early and late 90s, I’ve been hearing/following her only from the past decade. If she has done very noble deeds in the pre 90s, by virtue of which she is getting this sainthood, then probably I am off beam. But I don’t believe that is any true. She was never a great admirer of democracy. I have always seen her narcissistic conduct in front of media, in party meetings and many other public forums. Not just common man, she made even the ministers in her own cabinet fall on her feet “literally” and receive blessings. Although my TN friends tried to convince me that they did it out of pure respect for her, I fairly disagree to it. Oh! Come on. In a democracy like India, there are lots of other ways to show benevolence to your superiors. Amma in locket, Amma in wedding ring, Amma’s picture in wedding card instead of bride, I mean that is ridiculous! Above all, Irony committed suicide when O Panneerselvam kept her picture in the Chief Minister’s armchair during her prolonged illness and he sat next to it giving public statements that Amma is still the Chief Minister and that I am just following her orders. Her dictatorship made Tamil Nadu a totalitarian state which in other words is a great blow to democracy.

O Panneerselvam taking blessings from Amma

Coming to her arrogance, the whole world knows about it. It was like she always flaunted arrogance and displayed it, carried it with her in forums where it was totally uncalled for. That stance of her only showed her self-importance. I do not know why people called her voice of aam aadmi and sensationalized the whole interview when she ruthlessly ill-behaved in a TV interview with Karan Thapar. I’m not a Karan Thapar admirer. But according to me that was a premeditated way of winning confidence of certain section of the society; an opening that gave her secured access to votes of particular class of people and nothing more. She was accused of changing ministers in her cabinet who was against her strategies and ideals. I’ve also heard from many that Nepotism was at peak in entire TN State during her tenure as chief minister.

Amma is in supporter's heart!

She openly accused Marans and DMK of corruption but herself had few cases against her. Among them, funds misappropriation and disproportionate asset cases gained national importance. When she was acquitted, she came back with more power and egotism and she used it to further her authority in the state and national politics. My memories of how public life was thrown out of gear whenever she visited Bangalore for case hearings with Z grade security is still afresh in my mind. When Chennai had severe floods and relief material was sent, her supporters stamping every relief bag with stickers of Amma spoke volumes on how much power hungry and autocratic she was. Her conceited image was actually celebrated by many subordinates and followers across her state.

I believe even for the native Tamilians and their economy, she has done more harm than good by giving freebies to secure more votes. Every Amma supporter in the state of Tamil Nadu state today has a color TV, mixer grinder, Laptop and many more things to lead a comfortable life and they even get a sumptuous meal for just 10 bucks, thanks to Amma canteen. But on the other side, in the name of freebies, TN’s debt has increased to more than 2 lakh crore. Currently TN’s fiscal deficit is at 40,000 crore.

Ksheerabhishekam (milk bath) for Amma by her supporters

But why media is sensationalizing her death by calling her “Iron Lady”, “Lady who broke Gender barriers”, Revolutionary leader” and so on? If death can obliterate all the terrible deeds of 60 years of one’s life, what is the difference between a true saint’s life and hers?  Does she really deserve it? It is for us to decide. This whole thing reminds me of a saying which I read somewhere:

Death changes everything… Time changes nothing!

Image courtesy: ThUnrealTimes and Indiatimes

A million dollar question

I thought the whole of my mind’s capacity is immense and I always believed that emotionally, I’m a very strong man. But from past couple of weeks, my emotional weakness has intensified within me and I’ve started to know and feel things that I’ve never known or felt before. I’m trying to refuse to venture into the thought that I’ve conceded defeat, but I’m not able to fight it. I’ve never seen deaths in my family/friends circle, I’ve never seen anyone experience hardship and physical agony this hopelessly. My granny is on death bed from a few weeks and this is the source of my disturbance.

Good old days of my Grandma

For the records, she is 93 and is an Alzheimer’s disease patient from past couple of years. She was fit and fine, she used to read The Deccan Herald everyday and with her little insights to what is happening around, she used to tell me how messed up the world is, today. Things changed slowly; she lost control over her memory, she started hallucinating and could recall only things from past. But all that was still fine with us because we, at home, were quite used to her absentmindedness and were pretty much accustomed to her awkward behavior. In fact, at times, when every other person in the family retaliated to her violent behavior (she was really uncontrollable sometimes), I nonchalantly disregarded it. Things have changed so much in the past few months. She is lying there, in the corner of a room, just breathing. She is making an attempt to speak something but none of us are able to make any sense of it. She is not recognizing any of us. Her hands and legs have crumbled being in the same position; her motor functions are reduced by more than 90%. She has bed sores over her back. She’s going through an absolute realm of pain & suffering and she is not even able to express it. Imagine how relentless it is that if a housefly sits on her nose, she has to make peace with it instead of shooing it away!

With grandchildren, on her 90th birthday

In the midst of it, a good number of my grandmother’s kin are visiting my home out of purest form of reverence and compassion, for the sweet and adorable lady that my granny was through her life. Majority of them talk about how active she was during the prime of her life. One of my cousins had nick named her “The Mask” because she was so swift that she used to get coffee from the kitchen like a whirlwind.  Some are making desperate attempts to show that they also care by pretending to sham and offer help. And of course there those one hundred percent pure assholes too who are more interested in watching Kannada soaps than empathizing with us for what happened. I don’t know if she can hear at all; because if she really does, she would regret having met these people in her life for the rest of her life. Very few are compassionate and offering every bit of help they could, in monetary and sensitive terms, to extend her death and keep her alive.

We have hired a caretaker to look after her. A paramedic comes home every week to assess her health. We are all doing our best to keep her alive. But I think this is exactly what is making me very poignant. “Are we extending the duration of her suffering by trying to keep her alive?” I tried to discuss this with senior citizens of the family. Some quoted Gita and talked about “karma” or “soul” and others gave reference to some gradation called “taaratamya”. I don’t have much insight into these. I am trying to convince myself by thinking that what they say may be true. The fact that they have seen more deaths and they don’t seem to get unbalanced by this at all, really surprise me.

A few days before she was bedridden

I’ve always seen people offering prayers for someone to get well. We’ve always been taught to hope for other’s wellbeing. But here I am, standing, praying to god to do exactly the opposite. I don’t know if I am responding more emotionally than is justified or assessing too highly of the scenario; I’ve been pondering over this for some time. The more I think, the more I realize that death is the most complicated thing I’ve ever come across in my life so far.

Every time when I am home, when I sit by her side, feeding her food, when I look at her crumbled legs and hands, this question boggles my brain: Should we continue to take good care of her which will only prolong her suffering or should we stop being so conscientious and put an end to her suffering early and be culpable and guilty for the rest of our lives? This, trust me, is a million dollar question!

I’m badly trying to restore some sanity to my brain!