Attempting to write a column is the most painful scholarly exercise that I have ever tried. The last time I wrote a column lasted, perhaps, few months and like the cashless ATMs I run out of ideas and words. However, as long as it lasted the column was a fodder for my inflated ego and pseudo-intellectualism. Like a bloated balloon, the ego only seemed to get inflated every time someone hinted that they had read it.
The addictiveness of reading a beautifully and scandalously written column ripping apart people and situation is akin to getting high on ganja. If the column provides you bit of titillation it is an icing on the cake. But let me confess that my addiction was restricted to reading the famous “With Malice Towards One & All” column churned out by the inimitable late Khushwant Singh. I also missed the Mani Shankar Aiyer “Mani-Talk” featured every week in the now defunct Sunday magazine.
Locally, I rate highly legislator Paul Lyngdoh’s “Cutting Edge” which appeared in The Shillong Times for some time. His column was impeccably written sprinkled with dollops of humour and serious outpour on variety of subjects. I hope he decides to resume his weekly writing, but not ‘before the 2018’ he told me.
Before you start reading further, let me forewarn all of you, who in any case might just have stumble by, that I am neither a prolific writer nor blessed with an intellect to make intelligent commentary and comment on grave national or state issues. I will steer clear of anything that requires using my little grey cell. But write I must ………
Demonetisation trauma
As I wearily walked one lazy afternoon into the Meghalaya Cooperation Apex Bank Shillong’s branch manager’s chamber to jump the long queue and withdraw what was left of my Rs 24, 000 weekly quotas post-demonetisation, what I witnessed will remain etched into my memory for its sheer melancholy.
I was stunned by an old lady, maybe in her eighties, sobbing uncontrollably while the branch manager and two other elderly ladies looked helplessly. I also noticed one of the two ladies, who I presume was the bank’s customer, fighting to hold her tears from rolling down her cheeks.
I tip-toed close to the BM and whispered, “What is wrong Bah?” In a hush-hush voice the BM explained that the elderly lady’s, who came all the way from Upper Shillong, lost her brother the night before and wanted to withdraw Rs 1 lakhs to meet the expenses that would inevitably follow. But as Prime Minister Naredra Modi’s government forbade withdrawal beyond Rs 24, 000 in a week, she came to the BM thinking he could help. When it became apparent nobody could really help her, she started crying.
The old lady’s plight really moved me. The thought that she will not be able to fulfill her sisterly obligations by taking care of those who would come-by to pay their last respect to the departed soul during the three days and nights of mourning immediately repelled me against the demonetisation.
Surely fighting black money by making a senior citizen suffer is not my idea of ‘Acchi Di.’ Demonetisation lacks sensitivity towards the poor.
Bachelor’s blues
Being single sometimes can be agonizing. I enjoy my blessed status, but the pain comes from sources inimical to the freedom I cherish. It also attract numerous comments, some snide and others suggestive. Once you have crossed an ‘imaginary’ marriageable age, you feel the heat of the society.
‘Oh! You still single!’ is one of the comments I often get. I am in quandary whether the ‘oh’ is a downright rejection of my status. My friends go beyond the permissible limit taking liberty of our friendship. In a friendly banter some would say, “Oh! He is quite “harmless” in front of female company. That ‘harmless’ is a suggestion that I am ‘impotent.’
However over the years I have learned to deal with such nasty comments and would shoot back, “Leave your girlfriend and ask her an hour later.” Inevitably most would turn red-face and others pretend to be deaf.
But the jewel of all is a particular lady whose query, almost on daily basis, agitated me. I often met her at a market and she would start by asking, “So are you married now?” I got tired of the ‘no’ after sometimes and simply said, “Finally, yes” with a grin. How nice, congratulation!, she responded with wide-eyes. I darted off before she could probe further. The next time I met her, she again asked but a different question. “So how is you wife,” she said with a smile. “Fine”, I would lie and then quickly get out of her sight. This went on for sometimes.
Tired of her inquisitiveness, I decided to put an end to this daily charade. The next time we bumped into each other, she predictably repeated, “Hey how is your Mrs.” Looking straight into her eyes I said, “We are divorced, completed the court formalities only yesterday.” She looked genuinely stunned and only managed, “Sorry to hear that.” After that she only smiles whenever we cross each other.
In a light vein
One day my five years old mischievous nephew decided to get even with his studious sister, who is five years his senior. He challenged her, “So you top your class every year.” His sister innocently nodded. Ok, now answer this question he said and shot, “Tell me what are those who lives beside a sea called.” My niece scratched her head and finally gave up. He looked delighted. “Those who live besides the sea are called Senior you duffer, he said as we rolled into laughter. He shot his second question “What are those who lives beside the zoo called.” This time without trying my niece gave up so that her little brother could feel triumphant and answer. He looked pleased and said, “Those who live besides a zoo are called ‘junior’, he said
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