Respected Sir/Madam,
As Mr. Mathrubootham is away and enjoying himself in the Andamans (I hope he is happy on his trip, although I am sure he will come back and write about all the things that annoyed him there), I thought I should use this ‘cycle gap’ to write to your “esteemed newspaper”.
As I finished reading Mr. Mathrubootham’s column aloud with my husband as we lingered over our breakfast and kaapi last week, I asked him, “Why do you think we enjoy reading this column despite all its cynicism? Is it that we don’t have enough of it in our lives? What draws us every week to read about an old man, probably a Tamil Brahmin, public sector retired employee living in Anna Nagar or Mylapore or a similar Chennai suburb, who incessantly complains about everything?”
Sir/ Madam, don’t we have enough problems of our own that we want to read about the incessant complaints and rantings of a retired man? How does a person find a new topic every week to be cynical about? He who does not spare even his wife or son in his rantings and thinks he knows everything! Do Mrs. Mathrubootham, or his son who “works from home”, or the neighbours he despises so much read his column? Don’t they reprimand him for making fun of them?
Sir/ Madam, I must confess that there are times when I have searched online for the letter on Saturday itself, since it is available a day in advance. But I only read the title and the signature to understand the topic and tonality so as to get a sense of the new topic that Mr. Mathrubootham will complain about the next day. I choose to wait till Sunday morning to read the full article, with my husband, in the print edition of Magazine . It is a weekly ritual for the two of us, to read it aloud together over breakfast. Several things have changed in my life over the past six months, but this ritual of taking out some time to read it with my husband remains.
Sir/ Madam, I must admit that despite all the cynicism on a plethora of topics (clearly, he is a knowledgeable cynic!), it is some of his mannerisms that linger in my mind — the occasional indulgence in ras malai from Ganga Sweets, the neighbours he despises but still spends time with and misses when not around, a yoga class he attends to socialise, kitty parties that he reaches early to ensure he gets to eat all the snacks, his fear and love of Mrs. Mathrubootham, the occasional nostalgia for his younger days, his fondness for Suhasini (does Suhasini read his columns, I wonder?), it is these small things, the “daily nothings” and musings that I look forward to every week.
It may be that reading the column with my husband every Sunday over breakfast is a small act that we have found joy in. Maybe it is these daily nothings that make life more endearing and more bearable in a world of beeping phones, flash news and traffic snarls.
So, dear Mr. Mathrubootham, thank you for your musings and weekly nothings. Hope you are having a fun-filled holiday. And hope you will have even more fun writing to us about it.
Sir/ Madam, you also feel the same way, no? Of course.
Yours in anticipation,
Ramya Raghuram
