How My Birthday is 14th Feb

A few days back some bank has called using Noida call center. And to my disgust the caller didn’t know English. And my Hindi is at best comical. So I passed on the phone to my son. After the call he asked me with his usual twinkle in the eye and a smile on his lips how come I had this important day as my official birthday when my actual birthday was different. And it triggered again a flood of memories.

I was fourteen in 1974 Jan . I was filling the application form for my board / 10^th class examinations and rules stipulate one has to be fifteen. So you had the option of backdating your birthday. At that time everyone was so particular about even days of backdating the birthday because one would lose government service and pay and promotions by even few days of birth date. I have backdated my birthday by more than two months than required and filled the form with 14^th Feb as the date of birth.

My principal has come to the class for verification of the forms and he asked me why I had backdated by more than two months than required. I told him because it was Lovers Day. He was 6-3 and 200 kg and I was 3-6 and 30 kg. He flew into rage I had never seen. He cuffed my collar and dragged me out of the class room. I was terrified that he would kill me if dragged me to the end of the courtyard. So I just held on to the chapatah of the well and would not let go. In all telugu literature writers used to describe the  “ chintha barikalu” the branches of tamarind tree which are very hard and were used to beat up the kids. But here palm tree branches were used ( eetha kommalu) which used to come down on you with whooshing sound and take off a small portion of the flesh. I do not remember how long this beating went but when I woke up I was in the most forbidden place across the street, the girls hostel. On a cot with one of the most beautiful women on Earth. Another teacher was applying a paste to the whip lashes, never knew what it was. Must be navaneetam ( lime sludge mixed with coconut oil ). I was having a raging fever and come to think of it there was no ice. It was just water drenched clothes to rub off the temperature. I just reached out to her and kissed and told her I love her. She just joined a couple of days back then. She looked into my eyes and told me “ Ramana, You be the same as you are in your life”. Well I didn’t understand then. I was naked and I thought she was actually asking me to remain naked for life. Both of them wiped the shit off my ass, sponged the urine for two days. I was later told they refused to hand me over. Both of them were sacked on the second evening and were refused that night’s stay in the hostel and had to leave evening . It was so fortunate that bus drivers did not rape and kill night passengers then.

On hind sight, I think I should have used this opportunity of staying in the girl’s hostel for two days by curing myself quick and utilizing the opportunity.

Some thirty years later, when this shitty head HR people come to you to congratulate on your birthday I suddenly realized the meaning of her words. What she meant was “come what may, don’t budge.”  

And then a couple of years later I went to Australia for a holiday with my family. I was with my cousin at the Blue Mountains Off Sydney and it was a Sunday. So there was local market. I bought packets of strawberries for every one. Every one was freaking out with the little purchases in the market. Till that day, I have never eaten a strawberry. I ate one strawberry. When I had bit into the other, I remembered this lady because her mouth had actually smelled of strawberry. And I just sat slumped at the curb. And this giant of a man came to me and asked me:” Any problem mate”. I said I just remembered someone whom I had kissed some 3 decades back. He was a massive person and he bellowed with laughter and said:” Big deal mate. When I was 14,I had kissed six, fucked three, married one and my life is screwed now.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I just told him her mouth smelled like his strawberries. He was taken aback. He went back a few feet to his place, consulted his another hulk of wife and brought me another full carry bag of strawberries with no charge.

And then he told me one thing. “ Savour the memory, enjoy the fragnance till the end of your life”

I had deep pockets then. So I launched one of the biggest man hunt or rather women hunt. There was nothing. No records. No person alive who would give me who she was.

Even till today, even if all the women in the world come together and pour acid on me, I will always love women till I melt to the last drop.

Wounds can be healthy too !!

“Wound kaffee Achcha hai”, remarked the assistant to the doctor as he was dressing the fist-size cavity created by surgical removal of an abscess a few days ago from my body. Even in that moment of excruciating pain, I could not burst out laughing at the way each one of us looks at things from a different perspective depending on which side of the line we are. The assistant was puzzled and elaborated this time in English, “ I mean it is a healthy wound”. Still seeing the remnant of laughter etched on my pain-contorted face, he added “ I mean it is not infected. But you have to be careful.”

I could not agree more with the doctor’s assistant, not so much about the post-operative care procedures but more so on being careful in avoiding getting admitted into a corporate hospital. The crass commercialization and complete lack of robust processes in patient care are frightening.

It all began a week back. The young, sweet and confident looking doctor had one look at my condition and recommended immediate surgery to remove the abscess. I agreed. Then he leaned back and with doleful eyes oozing pity, asked me if I had insurance. The look implied that if I didn’t have a policy, I would for sure lose my shirt. Little did I realize how true it was, until the insurance section chief of the hospital gave me a rough estimate of the total cost for the minor surgery and a 2-day stay. The cost was equivalent to 3-month take home pay of my wife after 18 years of service in a bank or 2 years’ income for a medium land holding farmer back in my village. Startled, I expressed my concern at the cost. “ But you will get reimbursement”, was the answer I got. I paid the money and waited for an hour-and-a-half for the allocation of a room. Obviously, some other patient must have been discharged to accommodate me.

Two hours later, I was wheeled out of the room on a stretcher and I assumed it was to the Operation Room. Not so quite. I was parked outside the operation room still on the stretcher as the room was getting cleaned. I learnt later that the hospital has multiple operating rooms. I could see two others waiting in the same fashion but they were moved to Post-Operative recovery room after 20 minutes or so after two patients were moved from the recovery room to their respective beds. I was amused. The conveyor belt manufacturing process was being implemented for surgeries in such a robust way that Henry Ford would have gaped in wonderment. Finally, I was wheeled into the operating room.

The anaesthetician looked too young for me to allow him to inject anaesthetics into my spine without getting a second opinion. So I called one of my friends who is an anaesthetician himself. He assured me that my paralyzed lower half of the body will come back to normal after 3 hours. The surgery having completed, I was moved into the recovery room without any waiting period. My index finger was clipped to a machine to monitor the pulse rate and other essential metrics. There were about 4 others in the room. What do I do with 3 hours with an active mind and a paralyzed body. I began toying with the index finger and realized that if I wag it vigorously the monitor goes into a tizzy with its keek, keek , keek beep. The nurse rushed around the room the first time and zeroed in on me by the second time. When I repeated the prank the third time, she coolly walked to my bed side and in the guise of adjusting the saline, dropped the bottle on my crotch, gave a half apologetic smile and walked away. That has put to rest all my pranks.

I was wheeled into my room after 3 hours. I was discharged 2 days later. During the 2-day stay, I had to periodically remind the nurses of the medicines I need to take. If somewhere, these were recorded, at least several of the nurses were not aware. And everything is to be back to square one when the nurses change duty. It is apparent that the robust processes of conveyor belt model are being followed only for surgeries and not for post-operative care.

What struck me was the fact that less than two hundred million people have medical insurance in India. And all these corporate hospitals cater majorly to these insured people and prosper on insurance money payouts. Anyone without an insurance ever dares to enter these portals, be assured that the last drop of the financial juices will be slurped.

Cousins' Cruise

The cousins get-together for the boat cruise went off well. On December 30th noon, a 35 seater bus started in Dakaram with 10 of us, including Mallakka boarding there. Since Monica had to be in school till the previous evening, she and Kumari came in by flight from Hyd on 30th morning and boarded the bus in Eluru along with Sailu’s family and Pedda Attamma. Sankara Rao mamayya could not join as he has unavoidable work at the Farm. However, he came up to the bus to see us off. In Gudivada, Naveen and family along with Amarendra mamayya, Leela attamma, Raja babai and Savitri boarded. Madhavi could not join as she had some pooja at home on that day. Padma did not join as she was shifting house. Devi took a train to Rajahmundry and Haritha and her sons came from Kakinada. Both of them with their children joined us at the hotel.

We reached the hotel, River Bay in Rajahmundry by evening but missed the Sun set by a whisker. The ambience of the hotel as well as rooms was excellent. We all had dinner at the hotel. The dinner was a fiasco with the waiters milling around and not able to serve properly, with different orders flying thick and fast.

We started off early morn to Patti Seema , 30 kms from Rajahmundry which is the boarding point for boats to Paapi Kondalu. The two-deck boat was excellent. We started off at 8.30 am. Breakfast was served in the boat. Several games were played out by children and every one of them won loads of gifts. There were fun games for elders too. A game for all – finding the one missing number among the jumbled numbers from 1 to 99 was won by - hold your breath- not by any elders but by Manisha in flat 3 minutes. Sunny was adjudged King of the day for winning maximum prizes. The games were organized by Kumari and Devi. After sumptuous lunch in the boat we started back. At 5 pm we got into the bus and got dropped off at our respective places.

It was a memorable day.

Requiem for a Friend

Requiem for a Friend

It was a normal morning like any other summer morning. I was on my morning walk with my dog when the cell phone rang. The call was from my village and a hysterical voice told me Siva is no more. He met with an accident. I couldn’t believe it. The caller confirmed that the body was positively identified. It was like a bolt from the blue. I rushed to my village to have a last glimpse. Mercifully the face was intact and he appeared to be in deep sleep. He was cremated on the same day.
I was 10 when I first met him in my village during summer vacation. He was a month older to me. He came from a nearby town to visit his grand parents. He came in an amby and was a sport to accept my exciting suggestion to take a side seat while I test drive the car. He stole the car keys when everyone at home was taking the afternoon nap and gave them to me. Together we were off. Not far though! Before I could manage to start and roll the car for a few yards, both of us were dragged out and a sound thrashing given. That day a bond of friendship sprang between me and Siva and blossomed for 35 years till a few days back when he rammed his car into a stationary truck from the rear during the dead of the night on NH-5 and died on the spot.

A few years after our first meeting, his family permanently moved to my village after his father lost a fortune in business. We met during every holiday, started our jobs same time in Hyderabad, shared a room and shared everything. We had similarities as well as differences. He was a religious person and I was an atheist and later a convert to the concept of Almighty. He was a conformist, while I was a rebel. We both chucked our jobs and started our own businesses, tasted the headiness of success and the pain of failure. Finally he settled in Chennai 15 years back. We used to plan out trips to the village to ensure both were there at the same time.

During the last 5 years, the meetings became infrequent as I was not able to make it to my village when he visited. I traveled to Chennai scores of times but there too didn’t find time to stay back for a day to spend with him. I visited him only a couple of times for an hour or so. He used to say that work will always be there and heavens will not come crashing down if I take a day off to be with him. How I wish now that I had done it. How I wish now that I had met him every time I visited Chennai. How I wish now that he lived for some more years for me to make amends. Alas, if wishes were horses beggars like me would be riding them.

I am left with emptiness in my heart. I am left with a guilty consciousness. I am left with a deep sorrow for not being able to meet him more regularly when I could have done it easily.

Siva is survived by his wife and 13 year old son.

May his sole rest in peace.