Kweeeek!!The squeaky, irritable noise of the hinged door made the latest of its iterations. The fragile metallic structure with its sheen-less edges once again jostled against the not so perfectly fitted fulcrum, creating an air of low decibel pandemonium in otherwise quiet setting. The sudden force behind the latest violent movement of the egress was a masked lady in white who hastily made it ajar. She is an angel to many when she smiles to pass on a soothing information or a naysayer to some, when she must reveal something absolutely brain-numbing. Intermittent shrieking sounds of a dilapidated slammer and the silent footsteps of a working nurse would normally cause little impact on the human lives. But today, ambience totally warrants an increased sense of attention to even the slightest of the changes in equilibrium. We are currently sitting at the waiting lounge of the cardiac ICU of one of the most frequented cardiac centers in Tamil Nadu (India), Kalaignar Institute of Cardiology, Chennai. Deaths here are mere formalities, the frequency of the same seem to have gradually erased the horrific, sordid nature of the act, at least to the staff who have involuntarily been designated to be mute spectators to this ritual like human tragedy.
I, Ramkumar Sundararajan aka Ram, have never faced such dilemma in my entire life. Fast approaching forty this November, I am yet to find my perfect life partner. ‘Yet to find’ could, by any degree of honesty be a misnomer here, literally it will be most apt to say, ‘yet to try to find’ a spouse in my life. My life, otherwise, a meaningless one has only one motive, to serve my mother, the be all and end all of everything in this unplanned journey in earth. For Ram, it was difficult to provide even an iota of significant mind-space to anyone else, other than the lady whom he felt, he was indebted to from his zygote stage.
Cut to present, I (Ram) am at the brink of doing an act, which my conscience had disallowed from even having thoughts about. Today, for the very first time, I was not following my beloved mother’s instructions. Here I am at the waiting lounge of the cardiac ICU, at an arm’s length from my biological father in his death bed, the most despised person in my life whom I hadn’t met over the past three decades. As a kid, I wouldn’t know when exactly this moribund gent became a sinister personality in my life, neither did I wished to. All I can remember during my formative years is two individuals, living like flat-mates in that expansive 2-bhk, with no mental connect, no conversations, no emotional attachment whatsoever. Young Ram always wished he knew the reason for this unfathomable distance between these two human beings, which had literally sucked the essence of his childhood days. But, how much ever hard I tried; cold elusiveness was my parents’ standard response. Poor Ram could sense the tangles of indifference getting tighter day by day. Things started turning worse, when one fine day, my mama started taking me to a court room setup, where post multiple days of arguments and counterarguments, judge duly obliged to send myself under the safe custody of my mother. Mama’s ego finally has a taste of victory, dad finally got mama’s troubles off his back, but the innocent Ram was left weeping, the cries which no one seemed bothered to turn their ears to.
Hot breeze from the nearby Marina beach blowing across the windowsill felt like hot blunt straws hitting my face. I, in a semi-snooze state, pondered on the darkest day of my life or rather the numbest one. A gavel falling with a thud on the mahogany wooden bench in front of the judge with fierce force is the scene which gets repeatedly played. My Lord, judge of the Family court had made up his mind, the kid must spend rest of his childhood under the watchful eyes of his mother. There are no dramatic responses from any single soul in the audience. Judge leaves, advocates pack their bags, relatives start moving. It is yet another day at office for many, but not for me, since only my life is genuinely getting impacted today. Dad comes close to me for one final time, hugs tight and plants a long passionate kiss on my forehead, turns his back and starts walking. Not sure, if he genuinely wished to become a party to the joint custody of his offspring. I hold the little finger of my mother, without seemingly ingesting the complete gravity of the incidents which just panned out in the courtroom.
As I grew up, through my loneliness, the questions on my parents’ separation kept regurgitating in me every now and then. Wounds caused by my parents’ legal divorce refused to heal, in fact the throes of the same increased multifold through the years. Bad dreams became my trusted companion at night, multiple courtroom dramas were staged in those, with only one difference, I am the only person raising questions, all others are at receiving end with no valid answers for leaving a 10-year-old boy in the dark.
I vociferously asked in my dreams to my uncles and aunts, ‘Why did you guys tell my parents about their disinterest towards each other? Why did you not once put a genuine effort to get them loving each other? Why did you not try to clear the differences between them? ‘
I earnestly inquired my father, ‘Dad, once upon a time, you were the most respectable person for me in this life. I don’t have an issue regarding your incompatibility with your spouse. Your relief to have gotten away from her may far outweigh your grief of losing me. But dad, my grief of losing the union of my dad and mama forever is much more. Though much senior to me, father you will never fathom the pain which I am going through. The enormous amounts of envy I have for kids with happy and loving parents. I feel my case worse compared to orphans too. For them, at least only fate can be held responsible, whereas in my case, egos of two individuals botched up my whole life. No worries dad, at the end of the day none matters to anyone, other than themselves. My hearty wishes for a long and happy life!!’
My shattered mind was not moving as per the modern societal norms through my adolescent period and one fine day, on 18th birthday mama took me to a psychiatrist to get me back in shape to a respectable social being. Along with usual dosages of paroxetine, citalopram he made it consummately clear to mama the panacea to cure her son of his illness – ‘your son is grown up enough to understand the travesties of life, please reveal whatever needs to be to get him back to track.’ Mrs Sundararjan couldn’t say yes or no to the psychiatrist’s advice.
Back home, beads of sweat are visibly breaking down from the multiple lines on her forehead. Mama hasn’t been such pressured in her entire life, I felt. But for her, her Ram dear’s life stood above everything, let alone her own life. After much cogitation, the fragile lady had to give in and started telling her life experiences in detail. The already unstable self of mine was sincerely struggling to process the overload of information received. Stories from halcyon days of courtship, marriage slowly paving way to differences, hatred, fidelity issues were many. Two minds already separated by miles, needed only a push to get the physical bodies too separated, which was incidentally provided by an act of infidelity from Appa. Mom apparently happened to be an ear-witness to a making out session which her spouse was having with the housemaid. The old lady was completely breaking down into tears, as she narrated the episode. Ram slowly hugged & consoled her; he didn’t want to pain her anymore.
My deep thoughts were broken by a warm, but delicate touch on my shoulder. An emaciated, tall lad in his thirties stood before me. He enquired if I were the first child of the now moribund Sundararajan. Once I nodded, he sat beside me, had a long silence, and introduced himself as the kid of Sundararajan’s second spouse. I was expecting a so-called vengeful interaction with my stepbrother sort of one picturized in popular media. But conversely, in an amiable manner he continued, ‘Sundar pa is not my biological father, but much more than that, he gave me a life of dignity. He’s the world for me. But every day he wished his Ram would come back one day to call him appa and finally you’re here. He’d have jumped with joy if he were in his better self. Without wasting any time, please go and meet him my friend”.
My stepbrother slowly escorted me to the cardiac ICU, we’re blocked by another masked lady in white. Post entering the credentials on a vintage book, she ushered me in. Among the rows of mostly ageing patients lying there, I could see at a distance Mr. Sundararajan, my biological father at the extreme end of the room, with just a blistered wall & stray ants for company. The man has been striving to lie to the right side, but was finding it tough, courtesy multiple needles and catheters inserted on his body. The gleaming face & once muscular trunk of the person under study have seemingly become a thing of the past. Meanwhile, Ram went a stood at the foot-end of the Fowlers cot and feigned a cough to wake up his dad.
An uneasy break from his snooze was evident in his response, which turned into a smile, as he watched his son in flesh and blood standing in front after a long time. Sundar hadn’t met his son over last 30 years, other than through social media pics. Ram on the other side, still was in no mood for any soft feelings for his dad, he went & sat at the by-stander bench, leaned forward & coldly asked in the septuagenarian’s ear – ‘Why did you cheat on my mother?’. The smile on the old man’s face quickly weaned away & his eyes were welling up. Ram repeated the same query, in a harsher but low decibel tone again. Sundar moved his face repeatedly in a horizontal manner ostensibly to deny whatever his offspring was alleging. Ram inquired the same for one last time, as he felt that eerie feel of mood swings setting in him again, the same urge he had somehow overcome in his teen years through multiple therapies & counselling. He stood up blood-faced and was about to leave, when he saw the loose end of the ventilator lying by the side of the cot. A careless pull with his feet was all it needed to get the support system turned off.
The old man had a sudden spasm, as he looked at Ram pathetically, visibly conveying his knowledge of what had happened just now. He ensured not to make any noise to attract any unwanted attention during his struggles gasping for a last breath. It looked like, the senile could fathom the denouement of his stay in this planet. Different visuals of Ram in his formative years flashed through him, before bidding goodbye to the world, which once he cherished living in. Without even a meek groan or rattles, death had slowly engulfed the man in a few moments.
I stood up emotionless, came out of the special ward and started walking to the smelly, silent corridor of the 2nd floor. I could hear loud mourns of sorrow slowly emerging from behind. I could also sense the footsteps of the lad talking to me a few moments back rushing to the ICU, in his last attempt to see the moribund person alive. But destiny seems to have sealed its fate on yet another soul gently in its stride. With no courage to look back, I start walking to the outside of the hospital. I pondered, ‘Both that lanky lad and I are orphans now or are we not orphans by birth itself?’ It is heavily raining outside. I took the long black umbrella and rang up mama & told assertively, ‘Mama, the man behind all your worries is no more, he breathed his last a few moments back’. A sob was about to commence from the other end, Ram cut the call and waved to a TNSRTC bus to Nungambakkam. He’s not sure whether his eyes were welled up. He felt he had a sudden rush to have a few pegs of Jack Daniels to gather some piece of mind.
