Cold Reality

When the rains first came to Bangalore, I rejoiced. No, it wasn’t anything to do with the receding ground water level in the city or the resultant water scarcity which caused this elation, not at all. It was because I was going to get a cold again. After all, it had been almost 4 months since I had my last attack of cold. I was getting scared that I had almost gotten healthy, but when the rains came, the cold can’t be too far behind. In fact, I had my first big sneeze before the mungaaru mazhe finished and I immediately rang my wife up in her office to give her the good news.

Since the time I can remember, I’ve suffered from cold. To cold’s credit, it has never been a dominating presence in my life; it was more like Sankarady in Malayalam movies – a meaty side role who would mostly have about 15-20 mins of total screen. I remember having to down various cough syrups – some tasty, mostly yucky – along with the occasional tablet to improve my situation. The tablets had to be crushed and mixed with honey since I didn’t know how to swallow a tablet till I was about 10 years of age. No amount of honey could keep away the terrible taste of a tablet. They didn’t do much good for relieving my cold, but I developed a lifelong hatred towards honey. When I successfully swallowed my first tablet, I felt so ecstatic that I didn’t get a cold for another 6 months straight! Needless to say, I’d forgotten the right technique and had a couple of tablets losing their way at the back of my throat before finding the right way down my esophagus.

As I grew up, I decided to change tactics. Since the attack from inside against cold wasn’t working, I decided to attack it from the outside. This led to switching of weapons from cough syrups and tablets to balms. Amrutanjan was my first choice because I liked its color but realized it burned my skin. Vicks was the preferred balm in my house, so I then turned to it. It was at this time that a cousin of mine took to Zandu Balm. He was enamored by it that one could see him taking the bottle out and applying it throughout the day. His love of it prompted me to switch allegiance yet again and try Zandu, but even it wasn’t successful in keeping cold at bay. As for my cousin, he had taken to applying the balm inside his eyes to get some relief before he visited a doctor who first threw the bottle of Zandu Balm out and then threw him out. My cousin got the message and never ever applied a balm.

During my pre-graduation days, I developed a fad for chewing pepper to ease out the itchy throat during cold. Pepper is supposed to have medicinal values, but I came to know that curing cold wasn’t one of them. Before I learnt it, though, I did spread around the powers of pepper to my classmates, and I won’t be surprised if we still see some people in their mid-thirties going around with pepper in their pockets which they pop into mouth every now and then.

Crossing over to the legal age limit for drinking helped me discover yet another medicine for cold – pepper rasam and brandy. Having hot pepper rasam with brandy only helped in my nose running a bit more freely but I sure enjoyed this medicine the most. In fact, there were times when I waited for cold to come so that I could take the medicine. Later on, I started taking the medicine even when the cold wasn’t there, but that’s another story.

After being wary of cold for a long while, I finally began to accept these periodic visits from cold. Just as I was beginning to accept it, cold started bringing a companion along – asthma. Very soon, my cold attacks would worsen to such an extent that I would have terrible wheezing attacks. All the harmless fun thus far started getting quite serious. I continued to dilly-dally on what needs to be done, but finally decided to visit a doctor. He diagnosed that I had allergy to dust (which you can’t avoid in Bangalore) and that was the primary cause of the wheezing. He prescribed 3 inhalers – 2 nasal and 1 oral – which I religiously took for about an year before I was reasonably well cured from these attacks. Cold too realized that I didn’t particularly like its companion, so it once again started making the visits all alone.

Nowadays, I and cold have reconciled to the fact that we can’t live away from each other for too long. There is something about constant sneezing, runny nose, teary eyes, difficulty breathing due to blocked nasal passages which is quite intimate that neither of us can stay away from each other for too long. I’ve thrown away all tablets, cough syrups, balms, pepper, and inhalers (though I have retained the brandy and branched out to various other alcoholic drinks as well) and have decided to start a new chapter of love and understanding with cold. We’ve lived peacefully for the last 3-4 years, and it looks like we have finally managed to accept each other as we are and move forward in life.

The Atheist

Hari was angry. Here he was, a self-confessed atheist, having to accompany his father to the temple. His father assisted the priest in the temple, cleaning the premises, tying the garland, etc. It had been raining heavily from yesterday; they heard that the river next to the temple had overflown its banks, and his mother wanted Hari to accompany his elderly dad.

Hari was somewhat of a hero amongst his friends. In a group taken in by the revolutionary ideals of Kerala’s Marxist Party, Hari was the leader. He had shown courage to scribble DOG one afternoon on the temple’s compound walls to show how much of an atheist he was. He had also boasted how he never goes to temples despite his father assisting in a temple. Of course, his friends didn’t know that he always visited the temple first thing in the morning. After all, he couldn’t tell his parents that he was an atheist. Now, that same Hari was having to accompany his father and assist him for a whole day in the temple, and he was hoping that his friends don’t see him going to the temple.

“Ready?,” Hari’s father asked, as he took the long umbrella from its hanging position next to the door.

“Yes, Father.” Hari took his own umbrella from the school bag.

The road was quite slippery from the rain, and while the rain had eased out considerably, it was still tough reaching the temple a kilometer away. For Hari, it looked even more treacherous as he had to look around to confirm none of his friends were around. Not that they would be out in this rain, but he didn’t want to take a chance.

It took them 10 minutes more than usual to reach the temple. Like the Brahmin household which was in charge of it, the temple had definitely seen better days. The compound walls were crumbling, and while one could still faintly see what Hari had scribbled, moss was already growing over it.

The river had obviously overflown its banks in the night, but with the rain easing out, it had receded a little. The levels were still quite high, but the danger was gone. Hari’s father stepped through the debris which had washed into the temple as the river had breached its banks. Hari gingerly followed his father.

As they came to the sanctum sanctorum, they had a shock to see that the doors as well as the idol had not survived the previous day’s rains. It was quite apparent that nature’s fury had taken care of God. Even as Hari stood shocked, his father picked up a stone that was lying close by which resembled the idol, wiped it with the dhoti he was wearing and stepped into the sanctum sanctorum and placed it where the idol was.

“Father!” Hari couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Now, don’t you go around telling this,” whispered his father. “Do you know that we survive because of this temple? If the Brahmin household comes to know that the idol had gone, they’d close this temple forever and how do you think we’ll survive then?”

Hari would never again boast about being an atheist.