Anecdotes from the past – XX

The Power of God

Photo by Og Mpango on Pexels.com

I am not a very religious person and I do not visit temples regularly. I mostly visit temples which are spacious. My favourite temples are the ancient ones with beautiful architecture which I can go on admiring for hours. And I love the temples along the coastline because they are very spacious and have stunningly beautiful courtyards and lovely kalyanis (ponds). Some of these temples have a soothing milieu; you can actually experience peace. These are places where you can finish books in one sitting. When I see tranquil places I only think of books.

Among the few temples that I have visited, the ones that are etched in my memory are The Venkatramana Temple in Kannur (my mother’s hometown), the Kollur Mookambika Devi temple, Udupi Sri Krishna Temple, the Anjaneya Temple at GM Palya in Bangalore (a stone’s throw from my home), the Bhoga Nandishwara Temple at the foothills of Nandi Hills and the Siddi Vinayak Temple in Mumbai. I have not travelled much otherwise the list would have been longer.

The Krishna Temple on CMH Road is not a place that I have been too often despite its proximity to my home. For some reason, I have always dismissed it as one of those cosmetic temples. The few times I have visited this temple have been during Krishna Janmashtami (Lord Krishna’s birthday). The temple gets overcrowded during this festival and to have a ‘darshan’ (glimpse) of the deity one has to stand in a serpentine queue.

I recall this incident in 2013. It was during one of those jobless phases in my life. That particular day had been way too hectic. I had attended a couple of interviews in different parts of the city and then had to make visits to a couple of other places. In the evening, I was drained. I had promised a friend that I would be meeting her at one of the coffee outlets on CMH Road around 6pm. I took a bus to CMH Road and alighted around half past five. I suddenly started feeling weak and was finding it difficult to even take a few steps forward. Not knowing what to do, I started searching for a place where I could cool my heels for some time. My mobile started ringing in my bag. What was a simple task appeared very painful as I moved my hand with great difficulty and searched for my mobile in my bag. I looked at the display. It was a call from my friend, the same friend I was supposed to be meeting in a short while. “Suj, I won’t be able to make it today. Shall we meet tomorrow, same time, same place?” I was dazed and my mental faculties were just not functioning. “Ok,” I replied with great effort, “Seeee ya”. I almost lost my balance as I put back my mobile. I just dropped on the kerb of the footpath. It was then that I realised that I had not slept well last night and had not had lunch in the afternoon. The breakfast that I had in the morning was way too light for me to last the whole day without food. Passersby started staring at me as I sat on the footpath all dazed. I realized that I was becoming a spectacle. I looked around for a better place to rest. This is when I spotted the Krishna Temple. There are quite a few benches in the courtyard of the temple. I decided that I had better move and find myself a bench. There wasn’t much traffic. I got up with whatever little strength I had and crossed the double road and entered the temple. I crashed onto the first bench I saw and thought of taking a small nap. I raised both my feet and spread my legs across the bench and closed my eyes.

I do not remember how long I slept. I woke up when someone tapped me. “Wake up, wake up,” said the voice in Kannada. “Go have prasad. Do not sleep at this hour. This is not the right time. Krishna will get angry.”, the voice said reproachfully. It took me some time to realise where actually I was. I cast a look at the figure in front of me. It was an old lady. She gave me an angry look and left.

I moved towards the temple and entered the premises. The nap had to some extent revived me. After offering my obeisance to Lord Krishna, the presiding deity of the temple I made my way out. I thought of taking an auto owing to my condition. A man stopped me at the doorstep of the shrine. “Amma, have prasad. Which world are you in?”, he asked. The man with his forehead smeared with vermillion had the most amused look as he handed me a leaf-bowl full of yellow rice. The bowl was quite big and the yellow rice was almost spilling out of it. I headed to one of the benches to partake the prasad. The yellow rice (also called lemon rice and Chitranna) turned out to be simply delicious. And there was enough of it. Not only was it very tasty, the food refueled me. I could feel the strength inside me returning back.

I had by then got enough strength to drop by at the supermarket next door and pick up some grub. As I walked back to board the bus, I suddenly realised the role the yellow rice had played in getting me back on my feet. “It must have been Krishna himself who came to my help,” I thought. “And the old lady must have been his messenger.” Tears welled up in my eyes as I went back home. I dare not call the Krishna Temple on CMH Road, a cosmetic temple anymore. I take back my words. That evening, I had actually felt the power of God and his presence!

The lovable ‘goonda’

As if 2020 was not bad enough, 2021 is turning out to be incredibly bad. I can actually feel myself stuck in quicksand. Cat haters are making my life miserable. Cries of “Get rid of them!”, “Throw them out!”, “Send them to a shelter!”, “Give all of them to someone (???)”, and permutations and combinations of these reverberate in my head. My entire neighbourhood hates cats. And I am the most hated person in the neighbourhood. Of late, I have been getting calls from across the seven seas asking me to get rid of my fur buddies. Why? Amidst all the brouhaha, my favourite cat Shobith has gone missing. Another cat, Simple, went missing in January. She was only six months old, a baby. Shobith is four years old, pushing five. I find his disappearance hard to believe. It has been five days now. Did he get killed by stray dogs? I asked the BBMP workers. They say they found a body of a cat resembling Shobith a week back. The body was decomposed. When I spoke to the BBMP workers, Shobith had been gone for only two days. That cat they found dead could not have been Shobith. There was still a faint hope that he would come back. Sadly, he still hasn’t. Maybe, he found another home? Hopefully, he is still alive and happy wherever he is. I miss him a lot. He was the alpha male among the brotherhood of cats at home, a lovable and good-looking ‘goonda’ whose presence lit up my house save for those brawls he had with Roller and Jhooma. Shobith got adopted twice, the first time when he was only two months old. He refused to let go of the young lady who adopted him. She dropped him back. He then got adopted again when he was six months old, a tad late for kittens to be given away. Not surprisingly, he came back again. The inmates of the house found him too vocal. The lovable ‘goonda’ then became part of my family. He was great friends with Biscuit and was his partner in crime. They were like the Boss and ‘chamcha’. Biscuit would often slap him. It was fun to watch the two. It goes without saying that Biscuit has started missing his dear friend.

Shobith when he was a year old.

As a three-month-old.

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The Boss (right) and ‘chamcha’

The Baba, the sleepy cat and The Buddha.

I am hoping against hope that Shobith comes back. I can’t wait to carry him.

Update: Yay! He is back. Looking scared and disoriented. I think he had lost his way!

The good-for-nothing!

So, I am a singleton (or does bachelorette sound better?) on the wrong side of 50. Now the big question! Why am I a singleton? Let me turn the clock to 25 years back.

Time: Some day in some month of 1995, I go home and break down after the umpteenth job interview that I attended comes a cropper. I tell my father, “Father! Can you find someone nice for me? I can’t keep going for interviews like these and come home crying. This job thing is simply not happening!” Pat comes my father’s reply, “What! How dare you even think of marrying? You good-for-nothing! You first learn to earn. No boy will marry a wastrel like you! You have no job! You have no money! You have no status in society!” I am shocked!

Time: A hot summer day in 2015. My brother comes running to my father. “Can you please get rid of those damn cats! I am fed up.” My father vehemently opposes the idea, “No, the cats remain. They are our pets. I cannot abandon them”! I don’t say anything. My brother casts an angry look at me and leaves saying, “Kaasamaragi (Konkani for “Good for nothing”). I am shocked!

Time: One day in sunny April in 2021. I call the so-called-protectors of society for help after being threatened to be thrown out of my house. Two Batman-like six-footers arrive at my gate. I apprise them of the situation. The high-flying woman executive, supposed to be a relative of mine, who threatened me is called and questioned. She exclaims, “Sir! Don’t believe her. She is a good-for-nothing! She doesn’t work! She has no job! She only plays with the mobile! She refused to marry! She is loose! She is a failure in life! She looks after nine cats and has been troubling the neighbourhood for the last 15 years. She is mad! She is gay! The two batman-like-dudes nod their head in unison even as they cast admiring glances at the buxom beauty as she keeps launching one verbal missile after another. I am shocked! The Batman-like-figures disappear. I assume “Good-for-nothings” are garbage. They don’t deserve justice!

So to cut a long story short:

Q: Why am I single (or in other words, “Why am I not married?)
A: I am a good for nothing!

Who said that?
In 1995, a venerable scientist working in a reputed lab said that.

In 2015, the venerable scientist’s venerable son, a high-flying executive, repeated those golden words.

In 2021, the venerable scientist is no more. His son is no more. Those golden words are uttered again by one great female! Two Batman(s) (Indian avatars of the original superhero) were testimony to that.