Senior's Day

Today, 21 August, is Senior Citizen’s Day. These days the Calendar is replete with several such days - Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Women’s Day, Children’s Day, Friendship Day… or, in terms of health, World Aids Day, World TB Day…

As seniors in our apartment complex in Bangalore, there are ways more than one for us to be together and make a day of it. We have the Vedic Group where we spend ten days in a month spending one hour a day reciting and brush up our memory on vedic chants – nine of them so far – Rudram, Chamakam, Purusha Sooktam, Sree Sooktam, Durga Sooktam, etc. In the evenings we meet in the gated community park for about an hour and a half for a chat. Sometimes the laughter that unwittingly emerges from the group arrests the attention of the nearby other  groups -  the ladies group, the IT group, or the college group - to turn towards us and wonder what the old guard have so much in store to make them their lungs laugh out.  

Once or twice a year we engage an 18- or more seater vehicle for a day long trip. Our trusted restaurant owner takes special care to pack for us garam garam Idli, Vada, Sambar and thick chutney in individual packets for the morning, and separately lunch and evening snacks packets. Some of the enterprising ladies prepare their special savoury items and distribute in small packets to munch in between. Then follows Antaakshari, tid bits, or anecdotes, a pro tem dose- off in sync with the tilt of the bus. A fifteen-minute stop to freshen up, sip a cup of coffee or tea from the wayside stall. He is happy he made his two hours’ earnings in ten minutes. Then, back to bus, but everyone by design changes seats so that each is able to interact with as many as possible. An hour or two later it is time for lunch. Here again, apart from the restaurant-packets, the ladies distribute their home-made sweets for dessert. Then follows a darshan at the temple on the way after dipping one’s feet at the sparkling water flowing in the river. You cool off your face with sprinkling it liberally and almost get to gargle, but the fear of diseases of all kinds desists you. Plucked fresh from their fields at the back, the small-time farmers display their products putting up temporary jute-cloth top to protect both them and their products from sun. There is a now or never rush from the group members. Yes, they know a little too well how much the Department Store in their complex charges for each of these.

The places of interest to be seen now takes a back seat. The victorious feeling on the veg and fruits front is at the helm. Before the last fortress, dam or the boat-ride comes about, the group is already in the home-bound mode. The return journey commences, with yet another round of tea from a roadside stall. It is now that you get a taste of how fast the driver can drive his vehicle for the return journey. Yes he too wants to reach home quick, probably to hit the bed early and have sufficient sleep before he takes up his next morning trip.

Alas, we are now in USA, and such a seniors’ day out would just be a wishful thinking. Around this time Sunita, our d-in-l, gets a call from her friend, Sumathy. “Arey Sunita, it is about two months since my parents are here from India. How about you drop your parents-in-law for a while for a chat with them.” Sunita dropped us.

In the two hours we spent there, each of us knew if our blood pressure or sugar level was better or worse than theirs, whether we were a shade better than them in spending a little more time in our morning walks,  or if we should adopt their food regimen…and ever so many things. There was a knock at the door. It was Sunita to pick us up. On way back home, we confided to Sunita that we had mutually agreed that the two families, five of them, and five of us, would book for the first day first show of Mani Ratnam’s Ponniyan Selvan when the movie releases in the local theatre on 30 September. 

Coming of Age

Mary Had a Little Lamb…; Old Macdonald Had a Farm…; Twinkle Twinkle Little Star… were some of the nursery rhymes that filled the air in the nursing home room. The moment the volume is lowered to welcome a visitor, the baby would cry to express his displeasure.  Yes, this was the scene we recollect when we flew all the way to the US to welcome the arrival of our first grandchild, Ashwin. That was nearly eighteen years ago. 

Now he is a tall, rustic 6’2”, late-latif, having his breakfast in a blink so as not to miss his first practical Ambulance duty for the day from 8 am to 6 pm. It’s part of the Emergency Medical Technician short-term course that he has chosen to strengthen his bio data for his long-term goal of getting into medicine.

With his newly acquired stethoscope resting around his neck and driving his Dad’s car for ‘duty’, he did look a doctor-in the making – or is it just any grandpa’s wish?  We grandparents stood at the doorstep all eager, and his parents a little behind trying to look normal, as Ashwin drove past his vehicle faster than what his parents would have wished him.

We played as usual the card games post lunch, but without the usual vigour and enthusiasm. Our minds were preoccupied on guessing what kind of emergencies would be in store for him. We waited for his return in the evening to get a first-hand account.

His class was in session. There were no signs of emergency for nearly an hour. Suddenly he was asked to report for duty. The ambulance rushed to a pharmacy where a man in his early twenties lay in the pharmacy bathroom nearly unconscious, high on opioid. Ashwin did his part of the job to bring him back to consciousness, only to be scolded by the affected. “Oh, you have brought me down from the high that I was enjoying.”

They were then directed to a Department Store to attend to an accident case. It seems while reversing her car back from shopping, a lady hit a man walking from behind. The accident per se was not serious, but the man went into a near trauma. He was cooled down in a while.

The next was allergic reaction. God knows what medicine the lady had taken. Her body was getting red with patches of swelling. They gave her an antidote, waited for a while, and when they saw signs of decline in the allergic reaction, they left for their next assignment.

There wasn’t any. And they returned to their base hospital, only to be directed to attend to a heart-attack case. This was a man past his middle age. Ashwin feared the patient’s chances were 50:50. He played absolutely safe doing exactly like what was prescribed in the textbook - and heaved a sigh of relief when the patient responded.

“That’s the end,” he said to himself, as it was already 4.30 pm, and he has just an hour and a half to go. But that was not to be. They got another call – this time a case of alcohol poisoning. “Oh! Poisoning?” his worst fears came true. He didn’t want to be part of anything that could be fatal, that too on day one of his tryst with Medicine. He wished if only it had happened after 6 pm, after his duty, that is. But, starting from a week before, Aunty had begun to recite some special slokas (something like Dur Swapne Smara Govindam…etc) for a happy ending of her grandson’s first day of practical session. And her prayers didn’t go unanswered. Here too the patient responded to the treatment.

Next morning, he exchanged notes with his classmate who too was on a different Ambulance duty. His cases included Drunken truck accident; Heart attack; Gun shot; Stabbing; and Difficulty in breathing. Ashwin felt cheated that he did not get such exciting assignments. But his friend confided all were fake scenes. “An ounce of practical experience is worth a pound of theory,” Ashwin patted himself as they both headed to the classroom.