Q n A

I wrote this aeons back.. around one and a half years back, when I was with Cognizant. Haven't been in a good mood all day and I dug this up...

The night sky outside welcomed me with its promise of fresh air; the room freshener inside was beginning to lose its initial intoxication it had on my senses. Notes from the Mandolin failed to interest me. The mental void inside me was jolted slightly by the cold metal doorknob. Momentary though. The moonless, pitch black sky with its million miniscule stars seemed to invite me with open hands. I felt in place among them, unlike amidst the myriad of Kancheevaram silks, Mysore silk crepes and lehengas sashaying across inside the wedding hall.


I wasn’t exactly claustrophobic but it did feel strange to be among a bunch of uncles, aunts, cousins and relatives who I meet once in an eon; during weddings when they realize that they once had a brother/cousin/nephew who left behind a family. That warrants an invitation sent across to mum. And that’s how I happened to be there. In the middle of nowhere, I told myself. A family that I didn’t know much about- except their names, a family that I could not associate myself with, except for the coffee brown complexion that I had acquired from dad. My own family, my very own roots. Strangers, people whose houses I’d not walk straight into and open their refrigerators for a raid.

I looked at those brown hands of mine- holding the metal railing… Dad’s brown skin… I don’t quite know for sure. It’s only hearsay. And a few photographs that lie in the cupboard back home. His passport, his driving license, his bank pass books, degree certificates… Newspaper clippings of articles that interested him. And I know nothing much else. Nothing that really matters.

I failed to notice the doorknob turn again and I was not quite happy to share the space with a newcomer. My solitude, it is my own sky today… My solace from the madding crowd. From people with whom I share 50 percent common gene.

‘I was your Dad’s classmate‘he said and continued ‘Throughout school’

I looked into his face expecting him to continue, for I didn’t quite know what to say. I had a million questions to ask. Like Amudha in Kannathil Mutthamittaal, when she meets her mom. But then, KM was a movie, Amudha was a kid. Not a 23 year old who’s expected to act her age. Besides, the screenplay was predefined in her case. I didn’t have the bound notebook with ‘Ten Questions to be asked if I come across Dad’s classmate’. I sometimes wish I had done that.

‘Oh… That’s great, so you REALLY knew him?’ I asked. Stupid question, I know. You needn’t tell me that. But what else do I say, when confronted by a stranger who knows lots of facts I’m dying to know.

Was he capitalist? Or socialist… Did he bunk classes? What movies did he watch? What books did he like? Did he read much at all? Rajni or Kamal? Sivaji or MGR?

Was he a back bencher like me? Studious geek or the cool dude? Did he ever flunk in a test? What did he do with his first salary? Did he play street cricket? Did he bowl or bat… who was his favorite sportsperson?

Did he have a crush on the Maths lecturer like I did in college? Would he have laughed over it if I had told him I had a crush on the lecturer… Or would he have blown over the top for that… Was he a teetotaler? Did he have a college sweetheart? Or was he the one who’s never made a fool out of himself…

Would he have been depressed on knowing that I was no good in CAT? That I was nowhere near the over achieving cousins? Would he have been happy to know that? Would he have accepted the fact nevertheless? What could a red mark in my report card have meant? Grounded weeklong? Advice? Or would he have signed it rightaway like Amma…

Appa, who was he? Remains a mystery to me. All these years and the years to come.

Questions, questions and questions… I asked none of them though… I don’t know what my eyes convened. Eagerness, inhibition, apprehension, hesitation… altogether?

He looked at me once, said ‘He was a good man’. He retraced his steps, reopened the doorknob, this time I didn’t miss the distinct sound of the turning knob… and he went back inside the hall.

My questions… I’ll take them to my grave, unanswered. Unlike Amudha.