It was the thirtieth of January 1987.
At eleven in the morning, we all stood up in the office remembering, for two minutes, the great man who devoted his life for the upliftment of low caste Hindus.
When I sat down, the phone bell rang. A voice told me to rush to the Hospital, as Sudha has been admitted.
By the time I reached there, they had removed a baby boy from her womb. It was a difficult operation, according to the doctor couple, as there were some complications. We informed Damodaran, her husband in Delhi.
For three days, I had no meals, as my wife was in the hospital. Sudhir prepared sandwhich, three times a day.
When Damodaran came to see Sudha, two years earlier, we had no furniture. Vasudevan went to Kota and bought a teapoy and two chairs, I think. I did not bother, as he was coming to see my daughter, not the house. He loved both Sudha and the scenery, viewed from the window of the house, about which he wrote a note to her afterwards. He had come with Pindaly Parameswaran, Devasena oppol’s husband, who returned along with Damodaran, the next day by train from Kota.
In our tradition bound community, the boy should not come to our house before marriage. Damodaran’s father sarcastically told his friend, who enquired about the progress of the maarriage proposal, “He not only liked the girl, he stayed there only.”
The marriage was in his house, only a walkable distance from our home in Keralam. We gave a simple break fast to our relatives and the neighbours, in the morning of the marriage, for which only thirty thousand rupees were spent, including dowry and ornaments etc. Rajasekharan had kept a detailed account of the expenditure, which may still be available with my wife! In our house, we never kept any account. We had no budgetting, and I retired as Account Officer. I had to work for a living.
In the night before that day, I slept soundly in K.K.Raman’s house, having nothing else to do. This was talked about much, afterwards, as an instance of my irresponsibility. During these days I read Vilasini’s voluminous novel – Avakashikal, I think.
Sudha was working as LDC in RAPP. During the interview for the post, Tandon, who was the PRO and a member of the board, wanted to ask some question. So he asked: who won the Nobel prize?
Nobel prize for what? quipped my daughter.
Tandon was not prepared for such a counter question. He thought for some time. At last he asked: for Engish?
There is no prize for English. It is for literature: explained Sudha. And she told the correct answer.
Members of the board were impressed and she was selected. She had the habit of reading the newspaper regularly. She and Sudhir had the reading habit, inherited from my brother and myself. All his life, my brother was reading and reading. There may be nothing in Malayalam which he had not read, though he did nothing else.
Occasionally Damodaran would come to our house, rarely she would go to Delhi. This went on till Sudha got a transfer to the NPCL office, at Connaught Place, New Delhi. The boy was left with us.
One day we were watching TV. All of a sudden, Appu was seen, with his face full of blood. He was climbing on to the shelf where he found a blade, took it in his hands to examine it and cut his finger. Then he wiped his face with the bloody hand. That was what had happened, but we were panicky, and took him to the hospital immediately. He was not crying.
Damodaran lost his job in the Metal Box, at Faridabad, when the company was locked out. Afterwards, the workers started their own enterprise in Delhi, where he is still working. Now he is a devoted worker in Jansanskrity.
Appu is now in the us, researching in economics
When I sat down, the phone bell rang. A voice told me to rush to the Hospital, as Sudha has been admitted.
By the time I reached there, they had removed a baby boy from her womb. It was a difficult operation, according to the doctor couple, as there were some complications. We informed Damodaran, her husband in Delhi.
For three days, I had no meals, as my wife was in the hospital. Sudhir prepared sandwhich, three times a day.
When Damodaran came to see Sudha, two years earlier, we had no furniture. Vasudevan went to Kota and bought a teapoy and two chairs, I think. I did not bother, as he was coming to see my daughter, not the house. He loved both Sudha and the scenery, viewed from the window of the house, about which he wrote a note to her afterwards. He had come with Pindaly Parameswaran, Devasena oppol’s husband, who returned along with Damodaran, the next day by train from Kota.
In our tradition bound community, the boy should not come to our house before marriage. Damodaran’s father sarcastically told his friend, who enquired about the progress of the maarriage proposal, “He not only liked the girl, he stayed there only.”
The marriage was in his house, only a walkable distance from our home in Keralam. We gave a simple break fast to our relatives and the neighbours, in the morning of the marriage, for which only thirty thousand rupees were spent, including dowry and ornaments etc. Rajasekharan had kept a detailed account of the expenditure, which may still be available with my wife! In our house, we never kept any account. We had no budgetting, and I retired as Account Officer. I had to work for a living.
In the night before that day, I slept soundly in K.K.Raman’s house, having nothing else to do. This was talked about much, afterwards, as an instance of my irresponsibility. During these days I read Vilasini’s voluminous novel – Avakashikal, I think.
Sudha was working as LDC in RAPP. During the interview for the post, Tandon, who was the PRO and a member of the board, wanted to ask some question. So he asked: who won the Nobel prize?
Nobel prize for what? quipped my daughter.
Tandon was not prepared for such a counter question. He thought for some time. At last he asked: for Engish?
There is no prize for English. It is for literature: explained Sudha. And she told the correct answer.
Members of the board were impressed and she was selected. She had the habit of reading the newspaper regularly. She and Sudhir had the reading habit, inherited from my brother and myself. All his life, my brother was reading and reading. There may be nothing in Malayalam which he had not read, though he did nothing else.
Occasionally Damodaran would come to our house, rarely she would go to Delhi. This went on till Sudha got a transfer to the NPCL office, at Connaught Place, New Delhi. The boy was left with us.
One day we were watching TV. All of a sudden, Appu was seen, with his face full of blood. He was climbing on to the shelf where he found a blade, took it in his hands to examine it and cut his finger. Then he wiped his face with the bloody hand. That was what had happened, but we were panicky, and took him to the hospital immediately. He was not crying.
Damodaran lost his job in the Metal Box, at Faridabad, when the company was locked out. Afterwards, the workers started their own enterprise in Delhi, where he is still working. Now he is a devoted worker in Jansanskrity.
Appu is now in the us, researching in economics
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