It ain't over till it is over!

Landscape with Figures" by George Tooker (1992)
Trapped in pigeon holes?

I have known Uncle K7 for more than thirty-over years. Ever ready with a gleaming smile, he enjoys having long banter with me every now and then, I think. Periodically, during draggy family functions, we would often be nooked at a corner to discuss his life and times as a young technician in the world of espionage. Working in the Malaysian Field Force as a sergeant, he was in the frontline trying to intercept communist's radio communication using the then avant-garde British and German technology. 

These family gatherings were nothing more than marking of attendance akin to a Mafia family meetings where the same crowd meets, again and again, to reinforce who is who in the family's hierarchal ladder. 

My interactions with Uncle K7 over the years opened up my understanding of mortality, immortality and the purpose of life. Through him, I realised the need to discover, re-discover and continue learning till the end of times. 

Thirty years ago, he was a happy man living in the memories of his working experience. He was retired from work but contented to see the country he fought for morphing into a developed one. He was delighted to see his four daughters blossom into young mothers with beautiful children. And the love of his life was by his side to attend to his whims and fancies.

A few years later, he was telling how he quit his chain-smoking habit. It was a time when he used to flame sixty stick a day. He blamed the British squarely for this unsavoury habit. It seems he picked up the nasty habit in the Force. A pack of imported cigarettes was part of his ration when he went into the jungle for his bandit-busting expeditions. What started as a harmless desire to try ended up as an addiction hard to expel. 

He enjoyed his last stick just before performing his penance at the Tirupathi temple in India. As it was customary to abstain from smoking in the vicinity of the holy site, he complied. Reaching for his habitual stick at the end of any task, he found it tasteless. And he grabbed another; also bland. Suddenly he had an intense abhorrence to the smell of cigarette. He threw away the pack, and henceforth he became an ex-smoker. I learned from him that 'all or none law' or 'cold turkey' are the ways to go. One has to put his mind to something and give his heart and soul to see it materialise. No half measures will do.

Yet another few years later, he was devastated by the sudden passing of the love of his life. The meetings after this era were filled with his accounts of melancholia, reminiscing the spring of his youthfulness. Soon after that, he was diagnosed to have quadruple coronary vessel disease. Against medical advice, he opted to go conservative, shunning any surgical intervention. Despite being labelled as a ticking time bomb, he was ready to embrace the offer of the walk to the Otherside. In his mind, his job on Earth was over; the sowing, the nurturing and the continuity was done. But time kept ticking with him, not away from him.

He later went on to immortalise his life experiences in a memoir, marking his contributions to the genesis of the newly independent nation called Malaya.

Now, twenty years after the diagnosis, he is still a happy man, embracing life as is offered to him. Still wearing his trademark grin, he replied with glee in his eyes when asked what he is up to. Since my last visit, he had discovered the magic of Youtube and the wealth of knowledge buried in cyberspace. He has delved into the art of face-reading (physiognomy) and numerology. On that evening, I was the guinea pig!

I am amazed that Uncle K7 always has something to do to keep himself busy. Many of his contemporaries are departed; hence, he has to explore and re-kindle himself to be occupied so that the light within him does not stop flickering.

At the time of retirement, I have seen many who just drop everything to plunge into what they think as well deserved break after years of breaking back for the family and for themselves. It may not be the best thing for the mind. It is as if one is just buying time before the Grimm Reaper's arrival. It should not be this way.

Being lazy or just resting?

Reminding ourselves of what Karl Marx said about capitalism's evils, he emphasised the importance of free time and shorter working hours for increasing productivity. Having time to oneself to indulge in activities they like give meaning to their existence. Since working hours are not going to get any shorter, but we tend to live longer, the only logical thing to do would be to use the time after retirement as a time for liberation. The silvered haired has the most opportune time to immerse himself in that something he wanted to do all his life but never had the time, resources or peace of mind to do as he was busy finding his footing in the material world.

"Free time is time for the full development of the individual - Karl Marx."

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International. 

It's so easy to fall in love?

Krishna and His Leela (Telugu, 2020)
Netflix

Even though this film has just been released, it has kicked up such a storm over the cyberworld. Hashtags like #BoycottNetflix and #KrishnaAndHisLeela are trending. People are calling @NetflixIndia Hinduphobic, citing many of its latest productions apathetic to the Hindu sentiments. Films like Sacred Games, Bulbul, Ghoul, Delhi Crimes and Leila have allegedly denigrated the Hindu deities. In this offering, is it a merely by chance that the main character's name coincides with the protagonist of the epic Mahabharata? Krishna in the movie is an indecisive chap who conveniently two-times his two girlfriends whose names just happens to be Lord Krishna's two of His eight queen-consorts, Radha and Satya. There is a third girl whose name sounds similar to Rukmini.

The fact that the protagonist pushed the boundary of public 'Indian' decency that ired viewers more. In most Indian movies, the story of a hero is only allowed to be engaged in relationships with more than one partner only when it is a comedy film or for actors in villainous roles. Still, engaging in sexual relations with more than one is taboo. Sex is revered a special status that is only reserved for that one true love. If a hero sacrificing his true love to marry someone else to defend social mores, that is alright, but not a wilfully two-timing. Characters with godly names and pushing the social boundaries is a tad too much for the public liking.

Ashtabharya (8 consort-queen) with Krishna -
19th Century Mysore painting.

It seems portrayal of Jesus Christ as a nose-ring bearing lesbian woman by Paris Jackson (daughter of the King of Pop) in a new movie 'Habit' is not okay. We all know what happened to Salman Rushdie when his satire 'Satanic Verses' mocked the Prophet. The Hindus are the harmless punching backs. Even the local stand-up comedy scene is bountiful with jokes with all religions except Islam for fear of being accused of being Islamophobic and of bearing the brunt of the rage of its believers.

A few new trends are seen in the lifestyles of the young adults as the norm, as suggested here. Once one is of a certain age, there is a strong compulsion to explore and prove their sexual identity as well as to fulfil their sexual appetite. Living off their relatively well-heeled parent(s), they do not need to think of their essential day-to-day survival needs. Maybe sexual prowesses has become another basic tenet to prove their existence. Their future is the last thing they consider. Time just passes by as they search in vain their passion, their raison d'être, as they drag their sorry ass slugging through one frustrating task after another. Did I mention alcohol flows like a river at every insignificant moment of their life? True, they drink occasionally, but every occasion is a reason to get drunk.

Overindulgence in intoxicants is not seen as a sign of being irresponsible but of living life to the max. At least that is what the media and celluloid pseudo-world seem to glorify. It is as though they deserve it, they earned it for all the troubles and difficulties they go through in modern life. Every generation thinks they had it tough and the generation before and after them had it on a platter.

Maybe this is the subtle way how the East India Company with its Scottish doctor-trader, Dr William Jardin, defeated the mighty Chinese around the time before the Opium Wars. They basically weakened the Chinese bureaucracy and machinery into becoming drug addicts. Like a bacteriophage, the British took over the driver's seat and the whole car, i.e. Hong Kong as the entire Chinese machinery was paralysed. In their subtle way again, the entrepreneurs of the world have made beer-drinking and football game revelry synonymous. Is this a secret ploy by the anarchist to weaken mankind and turn us all to obedient automatons.

The movie also questions that perhaps the male gender, often accused of showing its toxicity through its patriarchal set of social rules, have gone all mellow. To conform to political correctness, not to rock the status quo or create ripples in a perceived stable society, they have to just take dictation to what the fairer sex recites. Yes, you can; no, I feel violated; I will tell you when; stop means stop are the buzz words that define the dynamics of modern boy-girl relationships.

Me, glad the rat race is ending as I set into the horizon.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

If you love someone let him go!

K.D. @ Karuppu Dorai (2109, Tamil; கேடி என்ற கருப்புதுரை)

This story reminds me of the many stories that I discussed with my fellow partner-in-crime in the not so distant past. Quite many a time, seriously ill patients with advancing age with the myriad of medical illnesses that complements the geriatric population often gets admitted to his unit. Invariably, the patient's children would insist that their moribundly ill elders get all the best treatment that money can buy. The oft-repeated dialogue would be, "money is not a problem". My friend knows it is no use flogging a dead horse but like a good servant he is, he obliges, every time. 

The tide would be going against the acutely ill patient. The next of kins would, however, stay hopeful. The life is literally hanging on a thread, living on a prayer. But hope lies eternal in the human heart. 

Days move ever so slowly but the patient's condition doe not improve. Slowly, the number of visitors hanging around the visitors' lounge becomes thin. People have to go back to their daily routine. One has to live for the living. Occasionally, the nurses can hear arguments amongst siblings. One busybody nurse overheard one relative threatening to stop contributing to the family coffers. Then another would butt in to say that the treatment is the least the family offer to the patient. And yet another would throw in the towel citing economic reasons. Collectively they all would agree that the successful one amongst them take the tab. 

Soon it would be a single relative hanging around to get daily updates on the patient's progress. Then the Universe will speak and lead to an amicable curtain call so as to give a suitable closure to the whole brouhaha. Nobody gives what the patient wants. The living decides what is best for the dying. 

Everyone says that there is an absence of sufferings on the other side. One can enjoy of all kinds, eternally satiating all the senses at a divine but first, one has to die. That is the problem. Nobody wants to die no matter how much one is convinced of life after death.


This offbeat but entertaining drama tells of an unconventional bond between an 80-year-old man, KD, and young orphan boy, Kutty. This octagenarian was in a coma for three months. Lying in his daughter's home, given up by doctors, he holds on his life. Refusing to die, he becomes a burden to his 5 kids. They just want to go on with their lives. One sibling wants to marry off her daughter. Another is waiting for his inference to settle his debt. The youngest child, however, does not like the idea but relents anyway when collectively the family members decide to terminate the old man miseries by performing euthanasia using traditional village methods. By a twist of fate, the 80-year-old came around at the precise moment, overheard the conversation, and scooted off the scene on a local bus. He paid the fare for the last stop but the bus broke down in the middle of nowhere. KD decided to hang around a small temple, help around the temple, and make acquaintance with Kutty.

His friendship with Kutty gives KD a new lease of life. Kutty, an orphan, a street smart boy, was left at the doorstep of the temple at infancy. For the first time in his life, Kutty found love in an adult. Kutty made KD's bucket list and together they try to fulfil the list. The family, upon realising KD's disappearance, assigns a private investigator who is hot on the old man's trail. 

Another entertaining story with a picturesque spread of the Indian countryside. It has its fair share of quirky moments as two members of different generations try to find commonality. 

A lesson to learn: Do not let your family members decide the fate of your life. When your faculties are no longer yours to make a decision, they will make decisions that suit them or what is expected of them by society. Your suffering will be their bargaining chip. Write a legally binding declaration of refusing resuscitation when the situation arises. Have a difficult but necessary discussion of opting to turn off the plug when things do not look promising. Let people remember you as the ambulant and cheery person you are; not as the pain with tubes that drained half of the family heirloom, if there is any left.

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Ageing with Grace

https://mybukz.tumblr.com/post/174902329732/poem-aging-with-grace-by-farouk-gulsa

JUNE 15TH, 2018

WINGSWORLDWEB 

Poem: Aging With Grace by Farouk Gulsara

Photo by Pranav Jain on Unsplash

Ageing with Grace

My mane, my crowning glory,

Once my pride, my joy,

Is now but just a silvery tuft.

My dimples, my charm,

Have lost their twinkle, now just wrinkles.

My charming Bella Donna eyes,

Cataractic, xanthomatous, have lost their glaze.

My neck, so nimble, so supple once,

Now only arthritic, sprouts crackles.

My breasts sprout proud once,

Parturient, now sag, atrophy. The curtain bows.

My female chest so majestic once,

Now left kyphotic and osteoporotic.

My midriff navel tease, sari for cover,

Left now with striae, protuberant and scarred over.

My posterior, an asset, my pride,

Adipose now deposited on both sides.

The thigh, the thunder,

Is flabby without tone, none to wonder.

The feet used to be so petit.

Now their shoes fit Big Foot.

They say it’s worth the goal,

To see one in your own mould,

To deliver, to nurture,

Two seeds for the future.

I shudder, I wonder,

Is it just me, I ponder?

My mind is no more mine,

Which I lost, rearing my kind.

Oh, those lost years,

Now in old folks home. I hold my tears.

My sacrifice, my parenting,

Are they just a passing?

For my benefaction of my gene pool,

I gave my health, my youth, no exception.

Joy and reason of living

Are seeing your offspring growing.

With pride I completed my Dharma,

Hope to escape the cycle of karma. 

FG.

 https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.