There are no modules in life for beginners: right away we will always be asked to deal with what is most difficult. Over a period of time, we get accustomed to the vagaries of life and over a period of time, learn to live with it (might be with a grudge). I never had any ideas of writing about me in a public blog, even this attempt is not to tell people about who I am. This attempt is my sincere effort to tell a few people who influenced my life. For some strange reason, I never had the ability of thanking the people who helped me during my hard times. I just wish to tell them, what I always wanted to tell them but never did so.
Truth is always stranger than fiction, it is always more interesting and adventurous than fiction, the simple reason is truth is not consistent it never follows any pattern like what fiction does. So, I will make this section interesting by just writing down only the truth without any unnecessary addons.
I don’t know everything as I am not young (young men do assume they know everything, and until they change that idea they never mature), but this man about whom I am going to say now was young, and he knew everything. He was born as the 4th child and the first male child in the family. Since he was born many years after the marriage of his parents, it was his sister who brought him up more than his mother. The name of this person is Chandramouli. Yes, I am related to this person, he was my biological father.
He never had a good relationship with his father and mother, and he was more in to RSS, Jan Sangh, BJP and in to full time politics even as a student. This made his relationship with his parents and siblings a strained one. He was never interested in marriage and always wanted to be a bachelor forever. He went against the wishes of his parents and got himself immersed in politics. He never concentrated in his career, while all his siblings got well settled in life.
It is at this point of time, he was forced by his elder sister to get married. So, he accepted and married a 20 year old girl who is a confused soul. With no settled job, and wife he was forced to pursue a life. “Men marry because they are tired; women because they are curious. End of the day both are disappointed.” This happened so quickly.
Ten months after their marriage they had a kid (it is me) . When I was 2 months and 12 days old, my mother had a big fight with everyone in the house saying that she cannot take care of me. She said that she will die if she was forced to take care of the kid. She was successful in convincing my father and both left me as 2 month old baby with my Grand Mother, and left to Chennai (then it was Madras) to pursue their career.
I was left with my grand mother in my village, and it was our cows that fed me. So, it was my grand mother and the cows that were my real mother as my biological mother left me with them. With severe hardship my grand ma took care of me. Though I don’t remember things, from what I heard from my relatives and neighbours, I used to be a highly troublesome and hyperactive kid. There are lot stories about my mischief, I don’t know if some of them were exaggeration as it is hard to believe. They say that I used to bring the fodder for cow and put it in the big containers containing milk, while people attending that, I used to put the left over ashes from the stove in the idli dough, and when they attend that, I tilted the water container and poured out all the water in the kitchen. So, they (my grandma and my maid servant) never used to leave me alone. The only two wheeler known at that time in my village was a bicyle, and I used to love those bicycle rides as my grandfather used to take me. As a 18 month old baby i climbed a ladder and got trapped at the top and the whole street came around and my grand father some how brought me down safely, and within a month he committed suicide but nobody saved him. Now my grandma’s job became all the more difficult as her husband committed suicide, because of floods in the river cauvery which destroyed all our crops leading to very heavy losses to my grandfather.
My Grandma was alone, and without any financial or physical support from her kids, she brought me up. The only source of income to the family was the milk from the cows, and she worked hard to bring me up. It is only natural that I loved only my grand ma. Life was good, I was sent to school when I was 3 years old. The name of the school was Minerva, and by the end of that year, I was shifted to another school at the insistence of my aunt and did my UKG in a school called Raj Matriculation. She found it difficult to handle me, as the school was far away from my grandma’s house, so she changed my school again. She was then working as a teacher in a government school. I joined first standard there so three schools with a span of 3 years. I had my local friends and school friends, but never had enough time to spend with any one of them, as my neighbours did not study in my schools, and I changed school every year, never had any friends as such until i was 5.
At the same time, I was quite happy. I had my grandma, there is nothing else I wanted. She used to scold me a lot, but I sort of loved it. I was like a prince ruling my backyard and those cattle were my subjects, I used to ride a small buffalo, and also remember falling down from it once. Watering the plants, and making cakes out of cow dung, life was heaven. Slowly I started developing a rapport with the kids of my neighbourhood. To be more precise, those kids came by themselves to become my friends, as they loved my grandmas’s sweets.(She is the true queen of cooking).
My biological mother ditching me was actually a blessing in disguise as I was very happy living with my Grandma. The first of the many disasters that struck my life happened then. My parents came back to take me away from my Grandma for reasons unknown. That was a doomsday for all my happiness. I cried, I begged and went and hid behind my grandma, but they snatched me away to Chennai.
With hindsight, I strongly believe in karma and rebirth. There is no reason why a baby should be punished for no fault of his. This is just the first of the series of punishment that I suffered in life for no fault of mine. The tag of “Cursed soul” might as well fit me.
Meet you in chapter 2