Respected Madam/ Sir,
Early this morning I was just relaxing in the bed. Sun is slowly shining outside. Birds are sitting in the balcony and singing. Smell of delicious food items are coming from the kitchen. Outside mild sounds of people of Chennai living daily life is coming. Nearby I can hear neighbour Dr. Shankaramenon doing daily meditation exercise in front of TV news programme. How many times I have told him manda shiromani whether anybody will do meditation in front of news anchor?
Whether he will listen? Whether MLA will say, “Okay enough corruption I have done so far, today onwards full and full public servant only?” Same answer.
So, as I was relaxing non-stop audio was coming from doctor’s flat: “Om Om How Dare You How Dare You Om Om Are You Citizen or Traitor Hurr Hurr Hurr Om Shanti Om Shanti Hee Let Me Speak Let Me Speak Let Me Speak...”
Oh what wonderful life I thought. No tensions. Retirement life means like this. No hurry to shave and make tiffin. And run to the scooter. Oh no, petrol is not there. Run to petrol pump. Oh traffic jam. Overspeed to office. Scooter parking is not there. Run to the desk, manager is angry. Then customer is angry. Inside lunch box you are hoping for biryani but instead cabbage poriyal . Then accountant is angry. And then you come back home. And family is angry. Only happy thing during those days is once a week Renuka Shahane will come on TV. I will sit inside mosquito net and watch Surabhi .
And next morning scooter-petrol- poriyal same to same.
But nowadays? Aaha. Sleep at 11 p.m., wake up at 10 a.m. Delight. Just as I was going to fall back to sleep, Mrs. Mathrubootham suddenly came to the bedroom and started assaulting me with copy of newspaper.
I said, “How many times I have told you Kamalam no hitting and throwing till after lunch time.”
But she just shook me like earthquake. “Old man, you had to work in bank only so we are living like beggars? So many people are kodishwarans after starting business, or becoming real estate magnate and all. You could have started at least one dustbin factory no? Instead we are suffering like this. Why why why.”
“Please Kamalam,” I said. “If you want to hit me, you hit me. But please don’t destroy this bed, it has been in my family since at least 100 years.”
“This is the problem,” she said. “You think Priyanka Chopra will tolerate 100-year-old bed in her house?”
“Oh ok ok. So that is the problem,” I said. “Now I understand.”
Madam/ Sir, immediately I understood. You see anytime some filmstar or multi-millionaire marriage news is there Mrs. Mathrubootham will get very agitated. She will start complaining about my respectable public sector bank career and family background and all.
“Look at how much they are enjoying their wedding,” she will say. “Do you remember our wedding? The moru kootan got over in 20 minutes and how much humiliation I felt in front of public. Look at Priyanka Chopra. Her dress itself is 75 metres long.”
In my mind I thought what nonsense you are talking, Priyanka Chopra is woman or Alleppey-Bokaro Express? But I didn’t say a single word.
Respected Madam/ Sir, this is all fully your fault. If you give coverage only to high-profile wedding, full country will get unhappy. Instead you should cover news of normal people also.
‘Chaos in Mr. Muruganathan’s daughter wedding as son by mistake marries photographer after power cut during function.’ ‘Why did orange squash get less and less orangey during Mrs. D’mello’s wedding reception, will the truth come out?’
Like this and all news if you publish means peace and quiet will be there in household. Please consider. Priyanka Chopra and all please avoid.
Yours in exasperation,
J. Mathrubootham
