February musings

Summer has suddenly arrived or so it seemed. Till mid-February the weather was quite pleasant unlike earlier years and we were enjoying the exception. Yesterday while watering a few flower plants we have, I noticed the dryness and enhanced the quota of their fluid intake in anticipation of the approval of the home ministry. At bed time when I tried to switch on the AC for a few minutes it was immediately switched off with a stern warning-with soaring electric bills, forget AC till mid-May. It was followed by a long sermon- you are lucky to have electric fans at your home. Imagine how people were enjoying their lives with hand-made fans that too for years together. They were all strong and healthy unlike you people-popping up a medicine for blood pressure in the morning, then another before meal for blood sugar and yet another for excruciating body ache and finally a tranquilizer for sound sleep. I don’t take all those, I protested. The sermon was louder this time-I am not talking about you, I am saying about people in general. Exposure to nature is the best cure. But then why don’t we go to the roof top and enjoy pristine nature instead? Stop howling, it is already late- was the curt answer. So summer has arrived at my bedroom.  

Last year the summer was terrible and adds to it there was voltage problem. I was in service then. We had to switch off regular power supply to run the ACs with the generator so that regular classes of the Academy could function un-interrupted. Ours is a surplus power State I believe I asked the authorities of power Supply Company. It was Sir, but not now-they replied.  This past tense is because of your negligence or our over consumption, I enquired. Both Sir was the indifferent reply. I had to leave it at that. You cannot improve the work culture without a sense of belonging. Amazingly we lack that, I realised.  

In our city, we have incessant programmes throughout the year. Recently many people are simply crazy about the opera or ‘Yatra’ as we call such open air theatre. I marked yesterday that the men at the milk parlour were rejoicing the narration of an inspired opera goer, ‘the heroine cried her heart out so intensely that we all, including an indifferent person like me, sobbed in unison for several minutes’. In my childhood days the Yatra or opera was the major source of entertainment in a village. After completing the household chores the women folk join their men to witness opera which lasts about six hours –from 11pm to 5am of the next day. There was orchestra, a story, song, dance, duets and comic interludes which were exhilarating enough to unwind them for weeks.  Thing are different now with ticketed shows that start in the late evening for a duration of three to four hours. No more mythological stories-now all stories are imaginary reflecting the social milieu at large with improved acoustics, stage technique, light and of course female artists not men masquerading as women. To top it all the nomenclature of all plays can be called- sensational. Taste transformation-should we call it?

The girl of a reputed Jewellery shop was probably impressed by my new found wealth and rang me off and on with the pleading-prices have been slashed substantially, please purchase gold coin if not jewellery. I admit it was not her fault. I thought of purchasing an earring set as marriage anniversary gift to my wife and secretly went to the shop. In hurry I had chosen a defective set and more importantly it did not receive the approval of the recipient. So I had to take it back to the shop with the rightful owner on the anniversary day for its replacement. She chose a better set but was unwilling to purchase because of its price but I insisted on it coughing of a few thousands more in the process. That was the mystery behind her assumption. The poor lady does not know, it was my first ornament-gift after many years of married life that too in anticipation of retirement benefits.

During college days, one of my friends’ wrote, ‘death is not dyeing but life is’. The line sounded philosophical and impressive. Should we deliberate on the existential agony or accept life in its sublime form with pleasure and pain caressing each other? ‘Why fret about those if today be sweet?’ it is Omar Khayyam all the way that keeps me moving.