To Maria

Every time I open a fresh new notebook, before writing anything in it, I glance at it admiringly…so fresh...clean and white… that as you move it closer to your face, it brings a whiff of fragrance like a new born baby powdered with a dash of lavender.. There is a frailty of the untouched…unblemished piece of work which sometimes make you pause before you write those first words in a blank page…There is a feeling of responsibility because you are going to change the life of the notebook for ever…it might pass across several hands...its edges lose the fineness and the pages bereft of aroma of fresh papyrus…I am in a way the first person the book came across in its life…This is what I feel when I start writing the first letters on this book because you were just like this new book for me when I met you and I want you to know that it will remain like that forever… ~ Fred.

Fred was sitting at the hospital verandah where the shades from the maple tree nearby gave patients much needed relief that summer. After writing those few words in the moleskin notebook which he had bought, he relaxed back on his easy chair…intermittently closing his eyes in rhythm with sunrays that escaped through the thick foliage of leaves above….He was soon tired playing this game and closed his eyes, as if making a point to the sun that he was not interested in the mischief it was playing. And soon he drifted in his thoughts…

It was infact one sunny day several years ago, Fred and Maria got married at the Catholic Church in Cologne…

It was the 70’s and Germany was booming…..When the young Goan girl Maria arrived in the country she had no clue about her future…After studying nursing in Madgaon, she was one of the lucky few who got a job in Germany…. A place far different from sunny palm frilled Goa where the flavour of fresh fish curry cooked with coconut milk would hang in air till dusk…A place full of white people with pink cheeks and blue eyes, far different from tanned lean Goan men who took to the sea back in her hometown…But she was sure about one thing….she wanted to embrace the new land….

Maria quickly adapted to the new culture and place….She was the sprightly one among a bunch of Indian girls who where brought in by the catholic mission …Her eyes glowed in eagerness to the new sights and smells while others cowered in fear timidly…. She was the darling of german nuns who took a special liking to the cheerful girl from India who would sing and dance like Julie Andrews to the delight of the kids in the hospital where she was working…. There was a spring in her walk and a song in her heart which was hard to resist for anyone not to notice…And it was no surprise that a fellow Goan chap called Fred did not need much reason to talk to her…a talk which went on for long durations followed by long letters and poems and made official by something pretty short actually….when both eagerly said at the church to each other…”I do…….”

And it was a truly special time of their lives when they were looked upon as the perfect happy family by the whole community…As years passed by, Maria aged beautifully unlike others who were at peace with a age when people didn’t mind gaining a few pounds or greying hair…After all Maria was the athletic lady who would jog every day morning and cycle her way home along the Rhine promenade taking delight in the breeze that caressed her mind and cheeks alike… She was youthful as ever in mind and body in unison….Her children adored her and she was a lovely mother who deserved the adoration….Like the roses in her patio, the orchids and blueberries in the garden she was the color in epiphany for her kids and loved ones….

One day as usual Fred made the morning coffee and woke her up for their morning jog….But that day she was almost frozen…Maria told Fred she could not lift herself up from the bed…Two days later the doctors informed Fred that the paralysis which Maria was affected with was a rare kind off poisoning which affected her nervous system….She would be bed ridden for life…That day when Fred met Maria at her bedside they did not speak…after all in a beautiful relationship like theirs silence did speak a lot…

There were plenty of get well soon bouquets and cards at her hospital room…but the docs could not do anything but feel helpless about how unrealistic those wishes were… Fred’s close friends asked him to move back to Goa where he could live comfortably with his savings and Maria would be cared by nurses whom he could employ… After a few days Maria was lifted on to a wheel chair and taken home….to their little home in Cologne…

Fred held Maria’s limp hand and squeezed it…A tear fell down from Maria’s eyes in a desperate attempt to return the squeeze…but she couldn’t….From that day in 1983, Fred did what not many men have done…He became a mother for their kids…He cooked food for all three at home…He ran the house along with his regular job…He took care of his beloved wife’s needs….bathed her…fed her….Months later, to the surprise of the doctors Maria could finally walk with some help….

Maria is fade shadow of her older self…. She doesn’t anymore look like Julie Andrews…She cannot hold anything heavier than a pen…But her face effuses a glow of contentment… contentment of having a husband who took care of her… a contentment in being able to fight the doctor’s predictions….for being at peace with her unconventional life…

‘Uncle Fred…’….. Someone touched Fred’s shoulders…

The nurse at the hospital woke Fred from his thoughts…and he walks slowly back to the hospital…Maria would be discharged today after her annual blood transfusion....He held her frail yet warm hand and gives it a little squeeze…This time she squeezed back…..

In a few days, Fred and Maria would be celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary… Fred as always is never sure with birthday gifts….He is quite tense whether Maria would like his little birthday present….a brand new moleskin notebook with the preface he wrote that morning…Maria would write poems and bring color again………


P.S. inspired by a real life couple i know in Hamburg..taken liberty of fictionalising into a story..
P.P.S. Post dedicated to a good friend of mine from Cologne.

To tell a telly tale

Last week I was watching the India-Pakistan cricket match with my friends in Hamburg….I am not a cricket buff but when I was invited to watch the match I hurried immediately since I love to see a match huddled together in a group where everyone got a comment about how a shot should have been played, why the field placements are wrong, why the ball should come on to the bat and why it was swinging in the other direction and the list goes on….After all everyone relishes giving authoritative opinions on the game… with all the tension so visible in the faces and a chilled beer to accompany...watching a game together is fun…..So last week while watching the match together I was transported to a incident which happened 5 years ago….

Place: A duplex flat in Pune
Year: 2004

That was the time when we started working and six of us were staying in a 3 BHK duplex flat at one of the most well known addresses in Pune…We were new to the city and we had arrived packing only our clothes and essentials…So like all just out of college newly employed folks we survived on bare essentials… We just had a huge empty flat with not a single chair or bed…. And since we were 6 guys living in this flat (all of em from same college who got placed in the same company) there was never a dull day….The tension of clearing the training at the company coupled with our new found ability to splurge thanks to our salaries, we were having time of our lives…I am sure ‘B’ helped liquor sales double in Pune those 4 months and restaurants sprung up around Aundh after they figured out ‘S’ had arrived in town ….So it was not that we really lacked entertainment , but we missed a television where we could watch a match together…

12 kms from our place stayed another group of 7 guys from the same college…But they were arch-rivals back in Trivandrum, them being hostellers….But then in Pune the famous mallu unity came into the picture thanks to a common love for OCR Rum and beef fry….The old enemies became friends …

Then one fine day my roommate made a grand announcement..…

“Guys…I want to share a great news with you guys….”

We all sprung up eager to know what it would be…did he finally get the scotch we wondered?

“My folks are sending a television from Kerala for all of us …We can watch the upcoming cricket tournament LIVE..!!” he exclaimed……

Our joys knew no bound….and we started marking off dates from the calendar anticipating the expected day of arrival… The television was expected to arrive on match day… So we made space for the TV in one of our huge rooms…Set our bed and pillows in the corners of the room for a viewing experience similar to those mughal dancers with hookah smoking junta around…. Considering our new found friend ship with the hosteller group in Wakad, we has specially invited those 7 guys as well along with a few from the neighbourhood….Around 16 guys were assembled in one of our rooms and it was packed…Serious pre-match discussions were happening around….some heated and others leisurely having their beers….It was like a big party where everyone were waiting for the chief guest to arrive..

Time: 1 pm

We got a call from the courier man that the TV was waiting for handover at the ground floor…Note that our duplex was at the eighth floor…So two of us went down to pick it up…As we signed the papers the courier guy handed us the box.. The HOLY BOX….

After the courier man left , We did not utter a word and just looked at each other…a bit stunned … But we both knew what we would do in such circumstances…..B picks up his mobile…

“Daa…Raghu…Could you come down…bring a couple of guys along…its quite heavy for two of us”…..my friend rang up ..

In a few minutes we had a couple of guys down who had come down to help us lift the ‘heavy’ piece of electronics…Rest of the folks back at the apartment were getting ready to give a warm reception to the television….As we came out of the lift we shouted at the remaining guys to give way lest the huge TV hits somewhere on the way and gets damaged…

Time: 1:15 pm

There is silence…of the eerie kind by the way..

The box was to be opened in front of everyone …Many amongst us who were quite proficient at therrivili suddenly found themselves short of words to express …mostly out of shock…As my friend did the caesarian of the cardboard box and we looked at in anticipation, and it did come out without much ado and without a whimper of a sound… a beautiful, cute 5 inch TV !!...the kind off which you see in taxis…or somewhere in barbershops or in miniatures exhibitions ...looking more like a lunch box or rather a soap box …and shouldn’t I mention the black and white plasma screen with a surround sound it boasts of…

We kept the TV at our designated area quite ceremoniously like a deity in the puja room…Most of us had never seen a smaller TV in our lives…and hence we sort of felt blessed to see one..

That evening 16 guys watched the match on that tiny contraption of electronic wonder …From a fair distance we looked like 16 rats trying to drink milk from a pan since we had to huddle together into a mass heap to see what exactly was happening in that little screen…The thadiyanmaars amongst us trampled on top of the skinny ones… We don’t remember much about the match…But we very well remember that particular day when we invited 10 unsuspecting folks, 12 kms away from our place to watch a match in a 5 inch screen!! That was a sight to see….

This is the best I got from Google images…the one we had was much smaller..;-P