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One Small Step for a Man...
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The pic that
appeared with the short story
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I waited for everyone to return before I started. Don't be misled into thinking that I was preparing to go to pay my respects to a departed soul or to the voting booth or to the temple. I was only getting ready to go to the toilet in my house.
To ordinary folks this may not be a very important room. For me it was a veritable 'room of peace', a room which can give me peace of mind which 'shavasana' in yoga is supposed to give one.
No other place in the house gives me so much 'space' to think peacefully. Leave alone think, there is not much space to ever sit. The whole house is a 'heavy traffic' area. It is not what one would call as 'home - sweet home...'
To put it plainly, we can form a cricket team with the members of my family. My father is the fast bowler - he stumps us with his words. My mother is like the Pakistani umpire - she is always on our side. I have three elder brothers and an elder sister and four younger sisters. I am
'Ramani'.
My name might make you wonder if I am a man or a woman. There is a scarcity for all things with the exception of babies in our country. Due to the scarcity of names, I was christened Ramani, with 'Idiot' as my pet name.
This morning our radio was tortured by the many hands of my family, each member wanting to hear his/her own favourite programme. Finally, lots were drawn and it was my lucky day. So we listened to 'your choice'. Even here the song that was playing seemed to reflect the sorry state of affairs in our family. My father, unable to digest this gave vent to his anger by scolding my youngest sister
Vaidehi.
"You are hardly in your teens and you want to listen to cinema songs and you fellows are paving the way for her to go astray..." He went out giving us a nasty look.
I got ready to go to office. I remember people asking me when I was a child what I wanted to be when I grew up. I grew up...but not into a Doctor or Engineer. I am a Clerk in 'Prestige Transport Company' now.
"Appa...look who has come!" My sister Vaidehi was calling out very excitedly.
My mother peeped from the kitchen and said, "Look! Our Ammulu has come".
I was surprised to see her. She entered the house carrying 2-1/2-year-old-Nisha, with 5-year-old-Usha behind her, tugging at her saree. She had a hopeful look that 'this time it would be a son'.
When they matched her horoscope with that of the
bridegroom, the astrologer had predicted that 'chances of having any children were remote'. Despite this, my father got my sister married to the 'boy'. Only my mother was worried. "Like father-in-law like son-in-law", I thought, and smiled.
As I stepped out of the house, it seemed to me that my bachelor status was more valuable than my educational qualifications, from the manner in which the opposite house neighbour Parandaman's daughter were looking at me. Considering that they were five of them, and in the prime of youth, one could not blame them.
It was 8.30 in the morning when I rushed towards my cycle - the poor man's vehicle. Will it be able to bear the weight of my thoughts...?
"Your cycle has a puncture, Anna..." said
Vaidehi.
I reached Mani cycle mart after having walked for a km. He was responsible for many of the students in our colony learning to cycle.
"Why have you not go to the office today...Sir...?"
"My cycle has a puncture Mani...give me one of your cycles."
He dragged his feet, saying "These two cycles are for my two daughters...they will come now.."
Mani's eldest son was my schoolmate. And I had believed that he had no sisters.
"How many children do you have, Mani?"
Mani scratched his head. "Why do you ask, sir?...My second wife joined the films as a group dancer. Either she has lost her way or the dance is not yet over. She is yet to come back. Anyway, I have been fooled by that woman. And to top it all my business is also not doing well. I have 5 children now...!"
Even when he was in such dire straits, he took a second wife, had 2 daughters. The first wife has 3 sons...
Is marriage just for producing children? Is there any need for a man to take a mistress when he is in such poverty? Or is it to forget his poverty that he takes on a mistress...?!
"Sir...I will get a cycle at 9'o clock and you can take it and go.."
My heart beat fast. It was going to be 9! Even if I catch a bus, I will be late to office by 10 minutes. Gasping for breath, I reached the bus stand.
There was a man at the bus stop with 4 children around him. One child had dirty matted hair; one was limping due to a wound on his leg; another had his ribcage exposed as in an X-ray; and the youngest had a running nose. A man who chews
betel
leaves to quell his hunger cannot be expected to understand the importance of cleanliness. They looked at me as if I was a cinema hero. I felt very uncomfortable.
'Oh god...the blind faults of parents has cost these children their health. When ever their eyes lack lusture, I wonder how their life would be ten years hence...!' Tears gathered in my eyes at the very thought.
The bus arrived. I set aside my troubled thoughts and got into the bus with great difficulty.
"My pocket has been picked... I am a family man... what will I do now? Some good-for-nothing fellow has picked my pocket..." I understood that
family man's disappointment in his cries. He realised that he was a family
man only after he lost his purse!
I entered my office in a confused state of mind. The sounds of the
typewriter, the ringing of the telephone - I stood in the atmosphere charged with life as though I were a corpse.
Manager Somasundaram waited till I took my seat to signal to me from his room. I wondered what his reaction was going to be as I entered his room.
"Look here, Ramani... This is an office not a choultry. You cannot come and go as you please. There are thousand others waiting for this job if you are not interested in it..."
The teeming millions of our country had emboldened my manager to speak thus. I apologised to him and came out.
"Ramani...Don't feel so dejected because he shouted at you... his wife is not in station. She has gone to her mother's house for confinement. Our manager is finding it very difficult to look after his 3 children who are 10, 6, 3 respectively. He is unable to talk about his problem openly. So he takes it out on us. Look...the telephone is ringing... go and answer it immediately... otherwise, he will snap at you for this also.." I felt that there was truth in what Rajesh said.
I picked up the phone to answer it.. only to hear a cross-talk between two women.
"This is what like is all about Subha! We have to compromise on something or the other...Do you understand?...Then what else is news...?"
"Nothing more...I will tell you the rest when I meet you."
"Hey! Why the suspense, Subha?"
There was silence at the other end..
"Don't put up your price so much. What is it?"
"Only good news mangalam..."
"Are you getting a promotion...?"
"No, I am pregnant again..."
Mangalam asked in a shocked tone, "What is this..? you said you were going to stop with the fourth child...?"
The line got disconnected.
Has procreation become a recreation now? I felt sorry for that unknown
Subha.
"Hello Ramani...Why are you looking so dull...?"
Anitha tapped me on the back. Anitha's love and affection was the only solace in this office. I also know that many people are jealous of this.
As if proving this, Mohan came to me, saying, "You are very lucky...what a wonderful figure she has...her father has taken very good care of her as she is only child...all my basic instincts are stirred just by looking at her...I really feel like making..."
Such perverted thoughts from Mohan - people like him will make procreation a small-scale industry!
When I pointed out to him that he should not be taking so disparagingly of a woman who is his
colleague, forgetting the fact that his mother was also a woman, he moved away mumbling something to himself.
Yesterday, a prospective groom for Anitha had come to her house. I was very eager to know what had transpired.
"No Ramani...my parents have rejected this proposal. 'The boy is in a good position but he has 3 brothers & 3 sisters. He is the youngest. Two of his brothers are married and stay with his parents. My parents fear that his sisters might be a major problem. His parents are also not interested in setting us up in a separate house...that is why we rejected the proposal..."
God knows how many sisters-in-law Anitha will produce for her daughter-in-law!
Today.........
The day went by like this. I accompanied my manager to wrangle a transport contract tender. I was hoping that
at least the evening will have some happy tidings for me.
We were very confident that this year we would acquire the transport tender from the
fertiliser company. We made it to the house of Mr. Panchavarnam - the officer who was the deciding authority in the matter.
I pressed the calling bell.
A man with an upright gait and piercing look, welcomed us in chaste Tamil. It made me wonder if he was a slave of
Bharati!.
After introductions, we told him about the tender. He stroked his moustache and surveyed the ceiling before counting 1...2...3 on his fingers. Finally, he said "Twelve thousand". My manger was furious.
But, who were these 4 women criss-crossing the room...? Could they be his daughters...?
I took a closer look at the photograph, which was behind him, on the pretext of placing my tea cup on the table. I was right. Even in the photograph there was no gap between the 4 girls. His wife looked very young, in two plaits. Quite a big family...! Was this why he has become so corrupt..?
The cyclone of thoughts which took shape in my house, gained strength in Mani's cycle mart, whirled through office and finally crossed Panchavarnam's house to blast through some more hearts. I was reminiscing about this, unaware of the passage of time.
"What is this...? How long you are taking...are you not ready to go to the office...?"
I was wondering how the hoarse voice of Panchavarnam had suddenly turned so sweet...?!
 I heard a knock on the door that was accompanied by the tinkle of bangles. I came back to reality. It was my wife! God knows how long I was sitting on the toilet seat in Rodin's 'Thinker' pose. Finally, I came out.
"If you had informed me earlier I would have asked the Guinness Book of World Records representative to wait outside the door with a stopwatch.." My wife Vanaja said sarcastically.
She is one of Parandaman's five daughters who used to stare at me shamelessly. All of Parandaman's daughters' names ended with 'Ja' - Vanaja, Jalaja, Girija, Thanuja, Induja. He probably thought a great deal of imagination was required to give each of his daughters a unique name.
I bathed and came out to get dressed. "Has Subashree gone to school...?" I asked.
"If you had stayed in the toilet for some more time, she would have come back from school!" she said. Vanaja seemed to be in a very naughty mood today.
Subashree - our first product of having played 'house'.
My parents and relatives were adamant that we should not stop with her. They probably felt that I was 'Reliance - Ambani', and needed a son to inherit my
worldly goods and a daughter to shower our love. They said in my last days if I fell off the bed, I would need a son to help me. If I got stranded in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, I would need a son to come rushing to give me a drop of water. And here my wife, too, seemed very conducive to the idea today.
I came out and climbed on to my moped. If you ask me, the moped should be made the national vehicle! Only two people can ride it, if necessary one child can be allowed.
A cyclerickshaw with 21 uniformed children went past. I wondered if in future the moped, too, would be used to carry so many children. I was shocked at the mere thought. The
enlightening thoughts I had in the toilet this morning flashed again in my mind.
I stopped near a telephone booth manned by a handicapped person and made a call to my office. I applied for 3 days leave.
I headed straight for Sudarsanam Nursing Home and got myself admitted there. My little contribution to this country-only one
Subashree.
I am ready to die of thirst in the deserts of Saudi Arabia.
A short story by
A P Thiruvadi
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