PUNISHMENT IN KINDERGARTEN

- Kamala Das

Today the world is a little more my own.

No need to remember the pain
A blue-frocked woman caused, throwing
Words at me like pots and pans, to drain
That honey-coloured day of peace,
“Why don’t you join the others, what
A peculiar child you are!"

On the lawn, in clusters, sat my schoolmates sipping

Sugarcane, they turned and laughed;
Children are funny things, they laugh
In mirth at other’s tears, I buried
My face in the sun-warmed hedge
And smelt the flowers and the pain.

The words are muffled now, the laughing

Faces only a blur. The years have
Sped along, stopping briefly
At beloved halts and moving

Sadly on. My mind has found

An adult peace. No need to remember
That picnic day when I lay hidden
By a hedge, watching the steel-white sun
Standing lonely in the sky.

ABOUT THE POET:

Kamala Das, (Kamala Suraiya), Indian author (born on march 31, 1934, Thrissur, Kerala,
British India—died on May 31, 2009, Pune, India), had inspired women struggling against
domestic and sexual oppression through her honest assessments of sexual desire of women
and their marital problems in more than
20 books of hers. Kamala Das was part of a generation of English-language Indian writers
whose work centered on personal rather than colonial experiences, and her short stories,
poetry, memoirs, and essays brought her both respect and disrepute. She grew up primarily in
Calcutta (now Kolkata) in a family of artists, where she felt ignored and unloved. as a
teenager she married an older relative, and the emotional and sexual problems arising from
that unsatisfying relationship and her young motherhood provided material for her first
memoir, my Story (1976). Kamala Das wrote in English under the pseudonym Madhavikutty
in Malayalam language. She was an advocate for human rights, especially for women and
children which were prominently found in her short stories like “Padmavati the Harlot”
(1992) and “a doll for the Child Prostitute” (1977). Her style and content both markedly
departed from 19th- century romanticized ideas of love. Her main concentration throughout
had been on an Indian Hindu woman and her marital life. Mainly known as a confessional
writer Ms Das often rebelled against the conventions and this she did through opening up her
personal life in her writings: she had extramarital affairs with men and women, and had
refused to identify herself as a feminist, and she briefly even founded her own political p arty.
I n 1999 she converted to Islam, renaming herself Kamala Suraiya and henceforth she also
embraced silence. She seemed had finally found her peace and she had nothing to clamour for
in life after accepting the Hijab.
 PHALLUS, I CUT (‘Kuri Aruthean’)
- Kalki Subramaniam

“Cut the phallus

of your chauvinism,
Then
you will know
who you are.
And then,
only then,
you tell me
that
I am not a woman.”

ABOUT THE POET:

Kalki Subramaniam dons many hats — that of an actor, an author, a transgender

activist and an entrepreneur..

From a 16-year old boy who was confused about his sexual orientation and
identity, Kalki has come a long way. ​ B reaking the stereotyping of transgenders
and demonstrating to the world that being a transgender is nothing to be ashamed
of has been one of her biggest challenges. She says, “Like anyone else we too can
contribute positively towards our country and the society we live in.”

To reach where she is today, Kalki’s had to cross many hurdles. First was coming
to terms with her own self. At 16, life was in a turmoil due to the tussle between
the anatomical gender identity of one’s sex and the psychological identity of the
other. “It was the most difficult period of my life. I was in school, as an
effeminate confused boy student,” she says.

There was a realization that the adolescent young boy, would not be the same as
the grown up adult, the world was expecting to see. It was a very terrifying
moment to deal with. Overwhelmed with thoughts about family acceptance and
their reaction to her true identity, often pushed her to think of even suicide,
though she never tried it.

One day she picked up the courage and spoke to her parents about her gender
identity crisis. “My parents broke down, they were frightened about my future. I
was sad to see them crying so I made them a promise that I would make them
proud if they let me be. They did. It took a lot of hard work but I kept my end of
the promise.”

Kalki’s list of achievements is long. She walked down the path of

entrepreneurship when a friend, a young artist approached her for help in
promoting his craft, especially musical instruments. With this she invested in his
products and began selling online. Brand Kalki Enterprises was born. “I started
earning and it was exciting to see the profit in my hands. Today we are doing
good, my friend is very independent, travels across the country for his business.”
In 2009, she started a matrimonial website for the transgenders and in 2011 even
acted in a lead role in a Tamil film, ‘Narthaki’, a beautiful biography of the
transgender community. The movie brought her appreciation from both the critics
and even worldwide audience.

She is soon starting a new venture called Kalki Organics offering pure, eco
friendly, zero chemical organic soaps and personal health care products.

Kalki writes in both English and Tamil, and has written extensively for trans
equality for the past 10 years. She loves poetry and recently her first collection of
poems was released as a book in Tamil named ‘KuriAruthean'(Phallus, I cut).

Kalki has been actively advocating for legal recognition of the transgender
community of India — from lobbying for their rights with the judiciary to
campaigning for gender non conforming students in educational institutions,

​ W ith self-belief and self-respect as her greatest motivation, Kalki says, “I am

different, yet I am as good as anyone else, striving to be the better and the best. I
keep learning constantly in life.”
 OBITUARY
A. K. Ramanujam

Father, when he passed on, left dust

on a table of papers,
left debts and daughters, a bedwetting grandson named by the toss
of a coin after him,
a house that leaned
slowly through our growing
years on a bent coconut
tree in the yard.
Being the burning type,
he burned properly
at the cremation
as before, easily
and at both ends,
left his eye coins
in the ashes that didn’t
look one bit different,
several spinal discs, rough,
some burned to coal, for sons
to pick gingerly
and throw as the priest
said, facing east
where three rivers met
near the railway station;
no longstanding headstone
with his full name and two dates
to hold in their parentheses
everything, he didn’t quite
manage to do himself,
like his caesarian birth
in a brahmin ghetto
and his death by heart-
failure in the fruit market.
But someone told
me he got two lines
in an inside column
of a madras newspaper
sold by the kilo
exactly four weeks later
to street hawkers
who sell it in turn
to the small groceries
where I buy salt,
coriander,
and jaggery
in newspaper cones
that I usually read
for fun, and lately
in the hope of finding
these obituary lines.
and he left us
a changed mother
and more than
one annual ritual.
ABOUT THE POET:
A. K. Ramanujan (19931929) Poet, translator, folklorist, and philologist. A.K. Ramanujan
was born in Mysore, India. He earned degrees at the University of Mysore and deccan
College in Pune and a PhD from Indiana University. Ramanujan wrote in both English
and Kannada, and his poetry is known for its thematic and formal engagement with modernist
transnationalism. issues such as hybridity and transculturation figure prominently in such
collections as The Striders (1966), Selected Poems (1976), and Second Sight (1986). The
Collected Poems of A.K. Ramanujan (1995) received a Sahitya Academy Award after the
author’s death.
as a scholar, Ramanujan contributed to a range of disciplines, including linguistic and cultural
studies. His essay “is There an Indian Way of Thinking?” proposed a notion of “context-
sensitive” thinking based in complex situational understandings of identity that differed
significantly from Western thought and its emphasis on universal concepts and structures.
Context- sensitive thinking influenced Ramanujan as a folklorist as well. His works of
scholarship include The Interior Landscape: Love Poems from a Classical Tamil Anthology
(1967), Folktales from India: A Selection of Oral Tales from Twenty-Two Languages (1991),
and A Flowering Tree and Other Oral Tales from India (1997).

For much of his career, Ramanujan taught at the University of Chicago, where he helped
develop the South Asian studies program. in 1976, the Indian government honored him with
the title Padma Shri, the fourth-highest civilian award in the country. Ramanujan’s other
honors included a Macarthur Fellowship. The South Asia Council of the association for Asian
Studies awards the A.K. Ramanujan Book Prize for Translation in honor of his contributions
to the field.
 APOLOGIES FOR LIVING ON

Meena Kandasamy
I am living on
because providing apologies is easy

once—

I was making choices

with insanely safe ideas of
fleeing-madly-and-flying-away

I was a helpless girl

against the brutal world of
bottom-patting-and-breast-pinching

I was craving for security

the kind I had only known while
aimlessly-afloat-and-speculating-in-the- womb

now—

I am locked away
a terrified princess waiting
for-death-and-not-any-brave-prince

I don’t dream or think

I just remember and wince
at-voices-of-the-past-smirking-in-sarcasm

once—

I ran away in the darkness

nothing beaconed me more than the
prospect-of-solitude-and-the-caress-of-a-million-stars

I ran into the arms of the ravishing night

nothing pulled me back: not even the memories
of-love-I-had-once-known-&-stolen-kisses-savoured-for-so-long.

I ran until terror stopped my tracks

for, trembling i turned and saw that the moon was
another-immodest-ogler-and-lecherous-stalk er.

ABOUT THE POET:

Meena Kandasamy is a poet, fiction writer, translator and activist who was born in Chennai,
Tamil Nadu, India. She has published two collections of poetry, Touch and Ms Militancy, and
the critically acclaimed novel, The Gypsy Goddess. Her second novel, When I Hit You, was
shortlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2018. Her latest novel is Exquisite Cadavers.
Her op-ed/essays have appeared in the New York Times, The Guardian, The White Review,
Guernica, Al Jazeera, Financial Times, Himal Southasian, The Hindu, Outlook among other
places. She currently lives in East London.
In her late teens (2002) she was the editor of The Dalit, a bimonthly “that provided a platform
to record atrocities, condemn oppressive hierarchies and document the forgotten heritage.”
Subsequently, she translated the essays and speeches of Viduthalai Chiruthaigal Katchi
founder-leader Thol.Thirumavalavan into English: Talisman: Extreme Emotions of Dalit
Liberation (2003) and Uproot Hindutva: The Fiery Voice of the Liberation Panthers (2004).
In 2007, she translated Dravidian ideologue Periyar's feminist tract Penn Yaen Adimai
Aanaal? (Why Were Women Enslaved?) and co-wrote the first English biography of Kerala's
iconic Dalit leader Ayyankali.
​
Her debut collection of poems, Touch (2006) was themed around caste and untouchability,
and her second collection, Ms Militancy (2010) was an explosive, feminist
retelling/reclaiming of Tamil and Hindu myths.
​
Her critically acclaimed first (anti)novel, The Gypsy Goddess, (2014) smudged the line
between powerful fiction and fearsome critique in narrating the 1968 massacre of forty-four
landless untouchable men, women and children striking for higher wages in the village of
Kilvenmani, Tanjore, Tamil Nadu. Her second novel, a work of auto-fiction, When I Hit You:
Or, The Portrait of the Writer As A Young Wife (2017) drew upon her own experience within
an abusive marriage, to lift the veil on the silence that surrounds domestic violence and
marital rape in modern India. It was selected as book of the year by The Guardian, The
Observer, Daily Telegraph and Financial Times; and was shortlisted for the Women's Prize
for Fiction 2018, among others. Her third novel, Exquisite Cadavers, a work of experimental
fiction was published in November 2019, and like her other novels was longlisted for the
Swansea University International Dylan Thomas Prize.
​
She received a PEN Translates award for her translation of Salma's Manamiyangal (Women,
Dreaming; Titled Axis Press, Penguin-Randomhouse India, 2020). At present she is exploring
her non-fiction writing through an Arts Council, Developing Your Creative Practice (DYCP)
grant. This support enabled her to write two long-form essays exploring female militancy in
the LTTE/ Eelam Tamil liberation struggle (The Orders Were to Rape You (The White
Review) and The Poetry of Female Fighters (Guernica)).

She holds a PhD in sociolinguistics from Anna University, Chennai (2010). Her work has
appeared in eighteen languages. She lives in East London with her children and her partner.
She is represented by David Godwin Literary Associates.
 1. Enjoy within limits, says Mr. Mathrubootham

Parthipan broke all Anna Nagar record for failing in maximum subjects,
decided to become guitarist in one band, then after people said please stop
assassination of music he got job in Dubai. I think smuggling

Respected Madam/Sir,
Sometimes in life we are desperately wanting one thing. And we are waiting
and waiting. Then suddenly that thing is coming and we are feelingayyo. I
unnecessarily wanted, maybe other thing is better, or nothing is best.
Whether you are aware of one Mr. Prathapan, my nearby neighbourhood
friend? 20–30 years back he used to say, “Please please Tirupathi, Balaji,
Baby Jesus, Gautama Buddha, Guru Nanak, Thousand Lights Mosque,
whichever fellow in Lotus Temple in Delhi, please pleasegive me one son.”
I told him ten thousand times, “Prathapan, you have two wonderful daughters,
what nonsense you are asking for boy boy like idiot. Look at me. God gave
two boys and I said, ‘fine ok I will manage’.”
Madam/ Sir, then what happened? Prathapan got boy. First of all boy was
some 15 kg during delivery. Prathapan’s wife even now when looking at
family album tears are falling down her face like Jog Falls. “What happened,”
I asked, “you are having happy memories?”
She said, “Shut up, Mr. Mathrubootham,mannangkatti happy memories.
Giving birth to Parthipan was like giving birth to cement sack.”
Then Parthipan grew up and became computer science engineer and went to
U.S. and today he is right-hand man of Microsoft CEO ha ha ha ha ha ha. Just
some comedy.Parthipan broke all Anna Nagar record for failing in maximum
subjects, decided to become guitarist in one band, then after people said
please stop assassination of music he got job in Dubai. I think smuggling.
So better to be happy in life with what you have. But yesterday what
happened. Mrs. M came at 6 p.m. and said, “Wake up old man, sleeping like
water buffalo.” I said, umbbbbaaaaaaaaoooooo. She said, “So funny, I will
put Baygon in your tea, mind it. One friend from college days has come, I am
leaving to spend whole day with friends group. You please manage food by
yourself. If you want, eat in hotel also. Enjoy.”
I thought, Eureka what a happy day, what a celebration day. I can eat
anything. For breakfast I took some coffee and biscuits. Then after reading
classic novel Funeral in Berlin by Len Deighton I said ok, time to enjoy
restaurant lunch after many decades.
I went to Hot Chips nearby Tirumangalam metro station. Just as I was about
to enter I thought, what nonsense, today is celebration day. Why not try some
new items. So I went to nearby one other restaurant that is
providing Rajasthani Thali type items. I stood outside and looked through the
window. Oho. Food is looking very nice. But then I saw waiter carrying plate.
Madam/ Sir, one Mount Everest of food. Ghee, oil, potato.
I thought too much heavy food. Enjoyment is there but there should be limits.
I kept walking and saw one Pizza Hut. Superb! Long time since I had pizza. I
was looking at menu when suddenly face of Mrs. M appeared in my mind.
Oho. Last two-three weeks she is saying we should eat pizza and some or the
other reason I am giving. Now if I eat alone it will not be good.
What to say. Like that like that I spent two hours going from hotel to hotel.
Some problem is coming in my mind. Too boring. Too heavy. Too sweet. Too
expensive.Too much calories. Finally stomach is singing
like Balamuralikrishna so I came back to Hot Chips. Waiter said, “Uncle,
same pav bhaji?” I said, “Ok.”
Around 10 p.m. Mrs. M came back. She said, “I had Gujarati thali for lunch
and pizza for dinner. What did you have?”
I quietly went to sleep.
Yours in exasperation
J.Mathrubootham
 2. Nobel? What Nobel, asks Mr. Mathrubootham
‘One day you get one superb idea for economics or physics or something. At
that moment, peon will come and say excuse me sir, birthday party of
Madam Vilasini is taking place in conference room. Attendance is compulsory’
Respected Madam/Sir,
Two-three days no peace of mind in the house, in the newspaper or in the
television. Everywhere I am looking, same thing only. Nobel Prize. Nobel
Prize. Nobel Prize. I was sitting in the dining room easy chair and
reading superhitnovel The Negotiator by superhit novelist Frederick Forsyth.
Suddenly Mrs. Mathrubootham came running and said Old man! Nobel Prize for
economics is announced, it is given to one Indian man, it is a proud day for all
Indians.
Madam/ sir, immediately I told her, Kamalam, whether he is working in India or
abroad. She said he is working in the U.S. or something but originally from West
Bengal. His wife has also won Nobel Prize with him. It is a wonderful news. I said
what nonsense you are celebrating as if Indian person has won the prize. Poor
fellow has run away to U.S. to do proper work without headache and now suddenly
he is Indian it seems.
Ideas in India
Madam/ sir, this is the problem with our country. Will we let anybody to work
peacefully? Never. Imagine you are some Nobel Prize type fellow in the office.
One day you get one superb idea for economics or physics or something. At that
moment, peon will come and say excuse me sir, birthday party of
Madam Vilasini is taking place in conference room. Attendance is compulsory.
You will say okay no problem maximum it will take 15 minutes. After three hours,
you will come back to the office and you will say, oho where is that idea I had just
before karumam birthday party? Okay, okay, now I remember...
At that moment accountant will come and say, excuse me sir one problem is there
in last month house rent allowance requisition form. You have put year as 2018
instead of 2019. Can you please submit new form? Then you will say, whether I
can just cut year and put new year on top? Accountant will say absolutely not
allowed due to new rules, any correction means you have to get affidavit signed
from gazetted officer. So you will take one hour to fill one new form.
After lunch break, you will come back to office. Oh my god, where is that amazing
idea gone… oh ok I remember writing it in my notebook. At that moment, power
cut will be there because electrician is putting decoration in the next building for
one wedding function. After half an hour, electricity will come and you will run to
do good idea thinking.
Two minutes later, one colleague will come and say hello my friend have you
heard latest gossips from marketing department? What should you do? You should
immediately tell electrician to put little current through this fellow till expiry. But
no. If you say I am not interested in gossip, he will spread nonsense gossip about
you itself.
Finally at 4.30 p.m., you are thinking ishwara at least two hours I can do something
thinking about good idea I had this morning. Ha ha ha ha. You are the biggest fool.
Because at that moment, head of department will come and say excuse me staff
meeting has started, attendance is compulsory. You will say just coming, two
minutes. Then after opening almirah, going inside almirah, and then screaming
inside almirah for two minutes, you will go for staff meeting.
At 5.30 p.m., you will tell head of the department, this morning I had one amazing
good idea. Maybe it will win international award. Tomorrow itself I will come
back and do work. HOD will laugh and laugh like hippopotamus: What nonsense
you are talking, tomorrow onwards Puja holidays are starting.
Then you will think mannangkatti, I am going to U.S. to do work in peace.
Correct or no? Fully correct
Yours in exasperation,
J. Mathrubootham
3.Mr. Mathrubootham is fully supporting all new technologies
‘Alexa? She is there. Internet TV? It is there. Tablet computer? Thousand times
there! Light bulb which you can on-off and change colour from mobile?
Ha ha ha! I have from jambuvan times!’
Respected Sir/ Madam
Good morning. Shall I tell you one story that will provoke the thoughts in your
mind? It is a true story and happened to myself just two–three days back. As
you are already knowing, Mr. Mathrubootham is fully supporting all new
technologies. If you come to my residence you will find many new
items. Alexa? She is there. Internet TV? It is there. Tablet computer? Thousand
times there! Light bulb which you can on-off and change colour from mobile?
Ha ha ha! I have from jambuvan times!
You are thinking, ‘Oh my god you tricky fellow, speaking like retired bank
employee but living posh like Tata-Birla and that family owning Bombay Dyeing I
have forgotten’. Madam/sir, latest technology is not Rolls Royce car or Cross pen.
Retired people can also buy some items.
What is Bombay Dyeing family? Now I will not be able to do anything except
think about this.
What I was saying? Technology! Around 11 a.m. on Tuesday, Mrs. M said,
“Please go and buy some jam-type item. I suddenly feel like having bread and jam
sandwich.” I said, “Kamalam, I just put DVD of Kane and Abel TV serial based
on superhit novel by Jeffrey Archer. You want jam now itselfor it can wait
two–three hours? Mind is full of Kane and Abel, Kamalam.”
She said, “OK, fine, please get before 4 o’clock tea time.” I said god-promise
on Tirupati Balaji.

Is it Nadia family? Kadia? Bordia? Name is on tip of tongue but not coming out.

Anyway, what happened when I put DVD into player? One khee-khee-khee sound
came like Mrs. M putting teaspoon by mistake in mixie. Then DVD player broke
down. Kamalamimmediately said, “See, see what happens when you ignore jam
requirements of wife.”
I decided better to get jam before wife and Tirupati Balajidoing more damages. On
return journey, I suddenly saw one new coffee shop. I thought, oho, I must try it
out. I went and had one cappuccino and sandwich. When bill came I had one
electric shock. Money is not there in purse. I went to manager and said, “Thambi,
purse is empty.”
He said, “Uncle, what you are talking like 1985. Do one PayTM. Whether you are
having on phone?” I said, “Of course, all latest innovations are there.” Madam/sir,
I took phone and karumam of karumams, battery is zero. No money, no battery.
Manager now looking at me like he is sandalwood tree and I am Veerappan. I am
thinking what to do. Then Eureka! I had one idea to put phone call to wife and she
will bring money.
I picked up hotel phone and started dialling. Then nothing.Madam/sir, I am not
remembering more than first two digits of her phone number. Absolutely zero
memory. Tragedy-o-tragedy.
At that moment, Dr. Shankaramenon is walking past hotel. I shouted,
“Dr. Shankaramenon, please come urgently, my dignity is going in drainage.” He
came and paid the bill and then I went home feeling ashamed like anything. When
I reached home, house is locked and I have no keys. After 10 minutes waiting, I
went to Dr. Shankaramenon’s house. Two-three hours later Mrs. M came back
from ladies association meeting. I said, “Woman, whether you have any
responsibility, husband is waiting outside?” She said, “Old man, calm down, I sent
message to your phone, didn’t you see?”
I said, “Kamalam, take jam, I’m going to sit in bedroom alone for some time.
Bring one sandwich.”
Maybe it is Borgia? No, that is Italian arsenic family.
Yours in exasperation,
J. Mathrubootham
4. Pizza maavu: Welcome to Mr. Mathroobootham food
recipe website

‘Next step is optional: immediately leave the family and start new secret life
in Bengaluru or Ernakulam. If this is not possible, then please proceed to shop
for purchasing items.’
Respected Madam/ Sir
Welcome to Mr. Mathrubootham food recipe website. Today I am going to make
tomato and cheese pizza totally 100%. Why because totally free on Friday evening
and suddenly during news reading on website one picture of pizza is appearing.
And then many YouTube videos are saying pizza and all easy-o-easy even small
children are making within one hour.
I will give step by step instructions. First of all you must announce pizza plan to
entire family during morning breakfast time. Then please wait for 10 minutes for
wife and son to laugh BabaBabaBaba like diesel generator behind wedding tent.
Next make list of all ingredients. Then go to kitchen. You will immediately find
that out of 11 items required for pizza only two items are available. Water and
salt. So you will tell wife, “Kamalam, I am going to shop to buy pizza items.” She
will say, “Old man, don't buy ₹3,000 items to make ₹15 pizza. I said, “Thank you
for moral support Kamalam, without you what I will achieve in life.”
Next step is optional: immediately leave the family and start new secret life
in Bengaluru or Ernakulam. If this is not possible, then please proceed to shop for
purchasing items.
Next step is very important, please avoid shopkeeper and assistants like anything.
If you say, “Thambi, what all items needed for pizza, please help,” they will look
as if you have put one speech in Hindi during DMK meeting. Then they will say,
“Uncle, people are spending crores to make food delivery company that is making
crores of loss. You just order on the Internet no?”
After 45 minutes you will come home with all items. Wife will say, “How much
wheat you bought? We cannot use in 15 years also.” Madam/ sir, make sure that
right now tension and kolaveri are filling up body and brain of chef. Don't worry
whatsoever. It is very useful in the next stage when you have to mix water and
flour and salt and mix and mix and mix. Just think of face of your family and
within 10 seconds you will have nice pizza maavu.
Now put maavu in bowl and then make tomato and cheese and all. Recipe is saying
please keep maavu in warm place. Just you put it in one corner and then put one
towel on top then to avoid any confusion, put in the most corner of corners, behind
a banana.
Then wife will come and say, “Old man, maid has come to clean house.” You will
say, “No problem, I will come after 20-30 minutes. Brain is non-stop thinking of
pizza. Will it be tasty? Will it be big? Should I have for lunch or dinner? Should
only put tomato and cheese? Maybe mushroom also?
Mouth is watering like anything.
Next step come home. Wife is not talking. Son is in bedroom working from home.
Nobody is speaking. What is the problem? Mystery of mysteries. Then I go to
storeroom. Maavu is gone. Like Harold Holt, old Prime Minister of Australia,
totally disappeared.
“Kamalam, where is maavu?” Like talking to bougainvillea.No answer.
Then maid will come and say, “Uncle, I thought some fungus is growing, put
everything into dustbin. Very sorry. Please don't get angry.”
Whether I got angry? Never. Immediately I went to Internet and told billion-
dollar company to send pizza. I sat alone in the bedroom and ate
happily. Kamalam came and said, “Old man, eating alone or any sharing is there?”
I said, “Pizza for you is ready. It is in the dustbin.”
This is the end of recipe.
Yours in satisfaction,
J. Mathrubootham
5. Mr. Mathrubootham’s life goes up and down like stock market

Three-four days back suddenly my son entered the dining room as if police
entering college library’
Respected Madam/Sir,
Compared to Mr. and Mrs. Mathrubootham life, up and down motion of stock
market is jujube. One day up and up, next day collapse.
Three-four days back suddenly my son entered the dining room as if police
entering college library. Mrs. M and self were sitting and eating tiffin items calmly
and doing small talks. “How are you.” “I am fine.” “Have you seen electricity
bill?” “This idli is little bit dry no?” “No.” “Yes, little bit dryness is
there Kamalam, just I am giving feedback.” “If you like feedback so much,
eat feedback for tiffin.” “OK Kamalam, kindly please put davara down.”
Just like that domestic talks. Suddenly son is coming. Whether you remember? He
is working from home every day. Software or insider trading or something. So far
police raid not there in house.
He came and said, “Appa-Amma, one very sad news is there.” Immediately, Mrs.
M started shouting like anything. “IS IT POLICE CASE KANNA? IS IT HEART
PROBLEM? IS IT LOVE MARRIAGE? HOW MANY YEARS I AM SAYING
IF BOY IS SPENDING FULL DAY IN FRONT OF INTERNET MEANS
CRIMINAL ACTIVITY ONLY. KADAVULAI, DID YOU SAY SOMETHING
ABOUT MODI?”
“Amma, what is all this? No, it is different sad news. I have received job offer
from company in Bengaluru. Today one meeting is there near Alwarpet signal. If
salary is OK means I will find flat in Bengaluru and go there March itself. I have to
leave you both alone. I am sorry for this sad development.”
Madam/Sir, Mrs. M and I looked at each other for two-three minutes quietly. It
was a very delicate situation. Inside feelings are coming and coming like
‘Aaluma Doluma’ song. But outside we have to put face like VIP people at Gandhi
Samadhi. How many years we have been waiting for this manda shiromani to get
job in office like normal youths.
Mrs. M put one award-winning sentiment voice and said, “It is OK, kanna!
Sometimes career thousand times more important than other issues. Why you’re
joining in March? Notice period and all is not there for work from home no? You
join immediately?”
“Appa,” my son said, “Say something. Are you in shock?” I said, “Words are not
coming for two reasons: one, shock and two, dryness of idli in throat.” Mrs. M put
one kick under the table. Then I got up and hugged my son. This is good move for
avoiding talks.
In the evening he went for interview. I said, “Kamalam, after son is gone, shall we
use his room for one library? Or maybe home theatre?” She said, “No, it has to be
bedroom only, when guests are coming whether they will sleep in balcony?” I said,
“OK, maybe bedroom-cum-library? Many good designs are there in Internet.” So
we spent two-three hours looking at photos. Kamalam said, “I will call carpenter to
take measurements.”
Madam/sir, at 5 p.m. carpenter Aravindan is coming. We are discussing and he is
giving ideas. At 5.15 p.m. son is coming from interview. “Appa! I have good
news! When I saw your dumbstruck face and shock I thought I can never leave
family. So during interview I told company, what is need to work in Bengaluru,
full office is there at home itself, I will sit and do all the works. Company said,
why not, maybe once a month come to Bengaluru for meetings.”
Mrs. M and myself celebrated like anything but fully duplicate sentiment.
Meanwhile Aravindan is urgently eating vazhaka bajji then leaving.
Carpenter is gone, library is gone, bajji also gone.
Yours in exasperation
J. Mathrubootham