Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Tomorrow it may be me ………





There is a saying in Malayalam, “Pazhathila vizhumbol pacchilla chirrikum” literally meaning that when a ripe leaf falls, the raw leaf laughs. Take this in the context of us uman beings human beings. When we are young and agile, we make fun of the aged and infirm little realizing that one day we too will reach the same spot. 

Today we have a world that is aging fast, a world where the number of aged is increasing sharply in contrast to the number of young, thanks to the medical world. This I believe is a thing to rejoice. However, when we see the number of instances where the rights of the aged are violated, their suffering, the humiliation they have to face day in and day out, we are forced   to wonder whether the medical world has done a service or disservice.

Just today, I came across an incident in the news paper. A woman in her 80s was murdered at night for half- a- sovereign of gold.  This mother of two grown –up children, a son and a daughter was staying all alone in her house after the death of her husband. Her son saw to it that she did not starve. Her meals were supplied from his house. But my question here is, “Is it enough that the children provide their old and infirm parents just two square meals a day? Don’t they have a responsibility to ensure their safety?”

We care for our children, we cuddle them, fret for them, fear to leave them alone in the house for even an hour  yet, when it comes to our old parents and grandparents we forget that they too are as vulnerable as  a small child of six. When it comes to our children we provide them the best in terms of value, in terms of nutrition, yet when it comes to the aged we often put these things on the shelf. We forget that we are able to provide our children the very best thanks to the care and love we received from them- our elders.

In earlier days many an Indian household followed the Joint family system where the aged were the most respected, the ones who were most cared for, the ones who were first served a meal. But with the disintegration of the system and with the concept of the nuclear family system, we have lost our sense of magnanimity. We have become more selfish. After all what use is an old hag in comparison to young blood? But here, we sadly forget that tomorrow we too will be in that old hag’s shoes.

I have come across many a family where the old are left to fend for themselves inspite of having children who can very well take care of them.   There are instances where the children leave the country with their family minus their aged parents for greener pastures.  Well, this is fine till such time that the parents are healthy, they are together. But once they become infirm or when one of them leaves the other alone and moves on to the other world, what happens? It is not that the children cannot build up their career here? No, many of the so called children are well educated, well experienced and can easily land a good job back home. In fact many of them are working for companies that have base in India too, meaning that they can easily shift base here if they are truly concerned about their parents, yet they hesitate. For them their personal conveniences matter more than the helpless situation of their aged and infirm parents.

There are also instances where the children cleverly get their old parents to give away all they have to them and then dump them by the wayside or in an old age home. Recently there have been instances where the children discard their old immobile parents in a cow – shed or on the verandah of their home while leaving on a long trip. The situation of such people is often pathetic. They are lucky if a good - hearted person/s finds them. It is high time the Voluntary Organizations, NGOs and the Government take note of the plight of the old. Though many of the Voluntary Organizations and NGOs are already active and doing their bit to make the life of the aged comfortable, they can further gear up their efforts and involve the entire society by creating awareness in them regarding the Human Rights of the aged. The Government on its part needs to make a proper legislation making it mandatory for children not only to keep their parents with them but also provide for them and take good care of them. The action of the government should not merely stop with making a legislation but should also include means of monitoring the plight of these ‘gems’ of society who have given their best to their children and society at large, in their hey-days. Non- compliance of the provisions of the legislation should be dealt with expeditiously and severely. Setting up of special courts to handle such cases will go long way in providing justice to the victims.

In the end I would just like to add;


Let us all remember, “Today it is my elderly, tomorrow it is me….”


 1)    You may also like to read “The Rights of the Aged” @ http://www.hrea.org
2)   You may also like to view the video “Age demands action” @ 


Linking this post to Writ Tribe’s Blog Action Day link up. Together we can!


Sunday, 13 October 2013

Tick, Tick, Tick








The room was silent except for the droning sound of the fan overhead. It’s time it was retired, Deepa thought. Suddenly she felt her body go rigid. What was that? Turning around to Varun she asked, “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“That sound that I hear?”

“Which sound? The cry of that child in the next room?”

“No, it’s’ something else. Something I can’t explain. Something sinister.”

Varun felt the medicines were to blame. He said,“Go to sleep. You are just imagining things. Maybe you are tired out.”

Deepa thought, “Yes maybe I am imagining things.” The day had been an eventful one. She had just stepped out of her house when a speeding bike had almost collided with her. “Vroooooom…” the bike had sped past her at top speed. “Thud,” she was there on the pavement. Before she could collect her wits, a crowd had gathered around her. She could not make out what was happening. The chatter of a hundred voices was adding to her confusion. “Acchoo.” The intensity of that sneeze suddenly jolted her to reality. She realized that she was lying there on the pavement with blood splattered all around. Her head was bleeding profusely. Seeing the blood made her dizzy. Yet, she was not one to give up so easily. She tried to get up, embarrassed at being the topic of attention.  But before she realized it she let out a cry. “Aahh,” the pain was intense. She could not stand. Never before had she felt so helpless.

“Tick, Tick, Tick.” What was that? Was she again imagining things? No, it could not be. She had that gut feeling of imminent disaster. No, she could not keep quiet. She had to wake up Varun. Had to get him examine from where that sound came.

She called out to him. But he did not hear. She tried again and again but to no avail. He was deep in slumber. “Bang,” went the jug as it hit the door jolting Varun out of sleep and sweet dream.

A shocked Varun cried, “Are you crazy? Why did you throw the jug?”

Desperate as she was, Deepa pleaded with him, “Varun listen, I can now hear that sound clearly. Do concentrate and try to pick it up.”

At first Varun was hesitant to listen to her. He only wished to get back to sleep and continue with the sweet dream that has so abruptly been cut short with that “bang” on the door. But then something in Deepa’s eyes forced him to listen to her. He strained his ears, keeping his mind focused. There it was. “Tick, Tick, Tick.” He felt his body going taut. What could that be?

He started to search frantically. Finally not able to find the object of his investigation, he called in the duty nurse.    

“Yes Sir, any problem?”

“Sister, what is that sound?”

“Which sound, Sir? I hear nothing unusual.”

“ Sister, that tick, tick sound.”

“Oh! That is just that clock on the wall.

Deepa could no longer remain a mute spectator. She said, “Are you sure, Sister? But I did not hear the sound till say half- an- hour back.”

Putting on her best smile the Duty Nurse explained, “You see Madam. You did not hear it because till half- an- hour back the hospital was filled with various sounds. Now that most of the patients are fast asleep and a blanket of silence has fallen on the entire premises, the sound of the clock is loud and audible.”

Varun: “Ooh! Thank God.”

Deepa : “My, I am so relieved.”

The sign of relief on the face of the two brought a smile on the lips of the Duty Nurse. Looking at them she said, “So what did you expect- a bomb?”

Both Varun and Deepa looked at her sheepishly just wishing she’d leave.

Once at the doorstep, she looked back and said, “Don’t worry, you are in safe hands. Have a wonderful sleep.”

The door closed and they both burst into laughter.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda



Thursday, 10 October 2013

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Sunday, 6 October 2013

Every once in a while……….


Every once in a while
She looked at the mantelpiece
Biting her nails out of fright
Biting them deep inside.

Dusk had set in
There was no word of him
The lamp was lighted
There was no sign of him.

She picked up the phone to call
Yet, stopped fearing to hear the worst
She looked at the frame on the wall
Tears welled up, waiting to fall.

No longer able to take
She moved with determined steps
Taking her coat and purse
She moved towards the steps.

And there behold he stood

The apple of her eyes…..


Her Son



The above poem is based on a prompt on  Write Tribe’s100 words on Saturday.”
The prompt was - “Every once in a while



  

I miss you







With moist, weary eyes he looked out of the window overlooking the street below. Everything was as usual, the early morning hustle and bustle, the chatter of children, the sound of a bicycle bell….. He could hear a child cry in the distance. Maybe hungry, he thought. The lady across the street opened the door and poured a bucket of water just in front of her doorsteps, getting ready to prepare “kolam.” The sight reminded him of Shanta, his companion of 51 years. Remembering Shanta these days was painful. It brought tears to his eyes. He felt a tug at his heart, a void indescribable.

“Shanta!”

The very thought of her took him back down memory lane. He remembered the day he met her first, the day she entered his life as his wife, the day she gave birth to Deepak, the day……….  But now she was just a memory. She had left him to fend for himself. He felt helpless and lonely. Not that Deepak, Ruchi and his two grandsons did not care for him. No. They took good care of him. It was only that he was so used to having Shanta around that life seemed to stand still without her.

The door across the street opened once again, this time revealing a young lass of 20 or so. His lips suddenly curled into a smile and that smile once again took him to the past.

Shanta was in a bad mood. The gout was taking a toll on her health, both physical and mental.  The “Bai” had failed to turn up. The house was in a mess. It was only the previous day that Deepak had made a call with his two little brats, his grandsons. The little ones had turned the house topsy- turvy.  It was more than what she could take.  Finally, coxing her to sit aside and relax, he cleaned up the mess as best as he could. Suddenly he remembered, it was a long time since they had lunched out.  Why not relive old times once again?

Off, they went in their old Maruti 800. Ah! By the way the Maruti 800 was their first car. Like Rex their Alsatian, the Maruti 800 was their faithful companion of years, the only difference being their ages. Rex was eight and the Maruti 800 twenty.  It had been tough to get Shanta agree. But once in the car, she slowly started to relax and enjoy.  The cool breeze and the strains of MS wafting from the stereo lead her to deep slumber.

The sounds outside suddenly jolted her from her sleep. The car had stopped by the wayside ‘dhabba.’ Adjusting her ‘pallu,’ she looked into the mirror. Yes the ‘bindi’ was intact. Shanta, as he could remember was always particular about the ‘bindi’. Her concept of the ‘bindi’ was a big red kumkum circle.  Getting out she slowly moved with him hand in hand, towards their favourite corner seat. The meal was ordered, hot wheat ‘parathas’ with spicy pickle and ‘Dal makhani.’  Sitting there waiting for the meal to arrive, she looked around taking in the beauty of her surroundings. Suddenly a patch of clear land caught her sight. The last time they had come here it was covered with weeds and shrubs. Now the same had been cleared exposing a wonderful site.

She looked up at him and said, “Ah! What a beautiful site.” He looked to where she pointed and his mouth fell apart. He wondered whether the gout was affecting her senses. How could she, Shanta of all people describe that sight as beautiful? His wife had always been critical of the dress the girls of today wore. The sight of minis, jeans and T- shirts would set her tongue lashing out at the fashion industry, the media and celebrities of today. She wondered what was so appealing, so feminine and so beautiful about these dresses that sent the girls crazy.

He blinked and looked there once again. Could it be that his sight was failing him? No. He could clearly see .There under the huge Banyan tree, stood two women, one in her early twenties and the other in say early thirties. The bulge clearly pointed to the fact that she, the elder one was in an advanced stage of pregnancy. But what was so beautiful about that? All he could see was that their dress sense was horrible. In fact it made him cringe. The younger one was in a mini exposing what looked like two big dumbbells beneath it. The elder one was dressed in tight jeans and a tight T- shirt. Had she not been pregnant, no one would have found it odd. But then the tight T-shirt over the bulge was making her look anything but beautiful. A loose kurta would have been perfect.

Ho looked at his wife with puzzled eyes and said, “What’s so beautiful about that? In fact, I find it repulsive. What’s got into you? I think you are going cranky. The gout seems to be affecting you senses too.”

She looked at him with blazing eyes. “You think I am going cranky? You think I am mad? How dare you? It’s you who is going cranky. Now tell me what’s so repulsive about that site? It’s in the midst of the beauty of Nature, and unlike some, the dimensions are perfect.”

“What? Now don’t tell me the dimensions are perfect. “

“What’s wrong with the dimensions?”

“They are shapeless.”

“Shapeless? Now don’t tell me you can’t differentiate between a perfect square and an imperfect one.”

“Square?”

They both looked at each other and then at the object/s of their heated debate, trying to figure out what the other meant.

Suddenly, they saw it and what followed was a loud burst of laughter. He realized that she had said “site” and that he had mistaken it for “sight.” She in turn realized that all the while he had been looking at the two ladies and was wondering what she found so beautiful in them. The laughter over she was back to her old self, sermonizing on the need to inculcate in the younger generation, the need to dress properly.

The loud cry of the crow on the window sill brought him back to the present.  Looking up at the sky, with a sigh, he whispered, “I miss you.”  

*****

Kolam’-            Design made with raw rice powder in front of the main door, esp. in South  India.
‘Dhabba’-          Wayside eatery.
‘Pallu’ –            The outer end of the saree usually draped over the shoulder.
‘Bindi’-             A small spot of kumkum powder worn on the forehead . 


This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

The prompt was- "She said______. He mistook it to be________. 

Saturday, 5 October 2013

Intertwined













subtle sun, lead her
down untrodden path of time.
ah! berries in wait.



Autumn’ or ‘fall’ marks the beginning of falling temperatures and the sun starts it all. Autumn is a precursor to winter a season that often restricts ones’ movements due to biting cold. So too is the autumn in ones’ life a precursor to the winter of old age an age when many of us tend to get confined to our home, our family .

In the autumn of life we tend to be more subtle, more sober like the rays of the sun and as each day passes by, we walk down the untrodden path of time getting closer to the winter of life. In this we are not alone. There are millions of others of different ages going through the same process, just like the berries- some ripe, some raw and some in between the two neither ripe nor raw. We are the berries ,the leaves our path and the subtle rays of the sun falling on the leaves are the hands that leads us forward on our journey of life  as we move from middle age to old age.


This entry is a part of a haiku contest held at Write Tribe .The prompt is the photo given above the haiku.


Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Haiku Heights # 303 ~September Height Day 30 ~ Prompt- 'Crooked'


The crooked cricket
Laughed at the dirty wicket
Fell in the bucket

Tiny face brilliant mind
Crooked teeth lovely smile
Stunning child that’s mine


The path was crooked
The mind was in confused state
Knowing his fate



Down untrodden path
With crooked stick swinging fast
He walked slowly past