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Unlike me, my wife never had nightmares. She was blessed with a profoundly sound slumber. And she used to say that it was God's gift to her. And she claimed she never had dreams...much like her son who inherited her gift.
Once in a blue moon, however, she would suddenly push and pull me and wake me up from my fitful sleep at around 3 in the morning. And would announce proudly:
"I had a dream!" (a la Martin Luther King)
"What was it about?"
"Oh, I forgot!"
and she would drink a glass of water, turn the other side, and slip back into her slumber. And I would get up and try and solve another Irodov problem...my sleeping pill.
One night around 8 she was watching TV when we were living in the first floor apartment Qrs B-140 at IIT KGP. And I was sitting by her side and reading 'The First Three Minutes'. And she suddenly asked:
"What is that screeching sound?"
"I don't hear any screeching sound"
"Here is goes again...listen"
"Oh, it must be a mouse"
And then she jumped up on the sofa and started howling:
"Kill it...Kill it!"
"How can I kill a mouse? I never did it in my life"
"But you killed a rat snake in our previous Qrs C1-97!"
"Oh, that snake was huge and its cross-section was ample and it posed no big problem. But a mouse is tiny and runs too fast for me and hides under the almirahs"
"At least you can chase it away"
And she was still standing on the sofa with no intention of getting down till I did something. So I went in with the AAP's broom in my hand and found it hiding under the kitchen sink and tried to chase it out, in vain. It ran helter-skelter and after ten good minutes I succeeded in chasing it into the guest-bedroom and locked the door shut and bolted it.
"Have you killed it?"
"No, but I chased it into the guest bedroom which is unoccupied now and bolted the door. So you can safely go to bed"
"But tomorrow morning I have to use the washing machine in there"
"Ok, I will do the washing for tomorrow and by the evening I would buy a mouse trap"
And I bought a no-frills deal wood mouse trap that Father used to entrap the Muthukur mice a half century ago. And my son soon became an expert at frying a fat slice of onion peal in mustard oil and baiting the dozens of mice that used to haunt our apartment then on.
As soon as the trap door did its: "Phut!", my son would run to watch the mickey mouse, and my wife would bolt herself in her bedroom till she heard the kick-start sound of our Bajaj Chetak that gave our trapped mouse its joy ride into the jungle and freedom.
One summer evening at 9 we were enjoying the cool Eastern breeze that used to flood our balcony, sitting on our two portable sofa chairs and indulging in campus gossip. The night was silent and holy. And suddenly my wife started shouting, screaming, and jumping up and down. And I saw a scared little mouse running away across her ankle joint. And on seeing it, my wife threw such a fit that our friendly neighborhood Dr Dilip Dasgupta living on the ground floor ran into the front yard asking:
"What happened, Prof Shastry? Is everything alright? I heard your Mrs scream in agony!"
And it was thoroughly embarrassing for me were I to tell the truth or keep shut...he would suspect that I was the culprit...
Somehow I mumbled:
"It's ok professor...it is nothing...nothing"
And both of us retreated into our hall like a couple of trapped thieves.
Much later in Hyderabad, it was left to me to break to her the grim news that her biopsy report was not normal and there were signs of malignancy in the tumor that was removed. I thought she would break down, shriek, and cry...she desperately wanted to live and enjoy the company of her only son, D-i-L, and little Ishani.
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Once in a blue moon, however, she would suddenly push and pull me and wake me up from my fitful sleep at around 3 in the morning. And would announce proudly:
"I had a dream!" (a la Martin Luther King)
"What was it about?"
"Oh, I forgot!"
and she would drink a glass of water, turn the other side, and slip back into her slumber. And I would get up and try and solve another Irodov problem...my sleeping pill.
One night around 8 she was watching TV when we were living in the first floor apartment Qrs B-140 at IIT KGP. And I was sitting by her side and reading 'The First Three Minutes'. And she suddenly asked:
"What is that screeching sound?"
"I don't hear any screeching sound"
"Here is goes again...listen"
"Oh, it must be a mouse"
And then she jumped up on the sofa and started howling:
"Kill it...Kill it!"
"How can I kill a mouse? I never did it in my life"
"But you killed a rat snake in our previous Qrs C1-97!"
"Oh, that snake was huge and its cross-section was ample and it posed no big problem. But a mouse is tiny and runs too fast for me and hides under the almirahs"
"At least you can chase it away"
And she was still standing on the sofa with no intention of getting down till I did something. So I went in with the AAP's broom in my hand and found it hiding under the kitchen sink and tried to chase it out, in vain. It ran helter-skelter and after ten good minutes I succeeded in chasing it into the guest-bedroom and locked the door shut and bolted it.
"Have you killed it?"
"No, but I chased it into the guest bedroom which is unoccupied now and bolted the door. So you can safely go to bed"
"But tomorrow morning I have to use the washing machine in there"
"Ok, I will do the washing for tomorrow and by the evening I would buy a mouse trap"
And I bought a no-frills deal wood mouse trap that Father used to entrap the Muthukur mice a half century ago. And my son soon became an expert at frying a fat slice of onion peal in mustard oil and baiting the dozens of mice that used to haunt our apartment then on.
As soon as the trap door did its: "Phut!", my son would run to watch the mickey mouse, and my wife would bolt herself in her bedroom till she heard the kick-start sound of our Bajaj Chetak that gave our trapped mouse its joy ride into the jungle and freedom.
One summer evening at 9 we were enjoying the cool Eastern breeze that used to flood our balcony, sitting on our two portable sofa chairs and indulging in campus gossip. The night was silent and holy. And suddenly my wife started shouting, screaming, and jumping up and down. And I saw a scared little mouse running away across her ankle joint. And on seeing it, my wife threw such a fit that our friendly neighborhood Dr Dilip Dasgupta living on the ground floor ran into the front yard asking:
"What happened, Prof Shastry? Is everything alright? I heard your Mrs scream in agony!"
And it was thoroughly embarrassing for me were I to tell the truth or keep shut...he would suspect that I was the culprit...
Somehow I mumbled:
"It's ok professor...it is nothing...nothing"
And both of us retreated into our hall like a couple of trapped thieves.
Much later in Hyderabad, it was left to me to break to her the grim news that her biopsy report was not normal and there were signs of malignancy in the tumor that was removed. I thought she would break down, shriek, and cry...she desperately wanted to live and enjoy the company of her only son, D-i-L, and little Ishani.
But all she did was to lightly scratch the back of her head saying:
"Oh, no, Is it?"
And then for all of 60 days everyday she was entering the radiation therapy chamber with a smile and returning with an even broader smile.
And two years later when she had to be told that the latest PET scan was not good, with many secondaries, it was I that had that big lump in the throat. She took it calmly enough with a sigh:
"That means...3 months without treatment and 6 months with treatment"
And during her last journey I found no trace of pain, grief, or fear on her pale face...it was calm and composed...just a hint of resignation.
It wasn't death or pain that frightened her to distraction...
...it was the mice...
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"Pain makes man think
ReplyDeleteThought makes man wise
Wisdom makes life endurable"
--John Patrick in Broadway Drama "The Tea House of August Moon"