Nakedness Of Life

Two reasons why I give so much of thought to sex. One, I like it, at least the thought of it. Two, I do not want to think of things that are eagerly waiting to engage my thoughts -- they are demons who, in their eagerness to seek my attention, often assume the form of a seductress and do a striptease in front of me. I know the stripping is nothing but a trap, but since I happen to be a virile man, there are times when I am tempted to look at the nakedness. The nakedness of life, that is.

We all devote so much energies towards getting people naked -- be it at work or the bedroom. At work, the nakedness is figurative, when you seek to prove how shallow the other person is; while in the bedroom, it is literal. And yet, no one wants to see life , that desirable bitch, the ultimate seductress, in her naked form. Because watching her naked only reminds you of one thing -- you have come to this world stark naked, and naked you shall depart. And also that you must depart someday -- you have no choice there. Worse, you do not know when that 'someday' would be. It's all in the hands of the seductress. So sad you can't fuck her, but only get fucked by her.

If she gives you death, it is fine: you can't really complain because she's the one who gave you life in the first place. But I hate it when she, like a feudal lord wanting to prove his supremacy, derives great pleasure from making you die several deaths during your lifetime, just to remind you that you are enslaved to her. That's why she invented this situation called 'circumstances' -- that's her idea of having fun at your expense.

Take the case of my widowed mother-in-law. Twenty years ago, she and her husband painstakingly built a handsome three-storeyed house in Calcutta: it was meant to the nest for their two daughters and two sons-in-law and their respective children. Even the dining table they got made was big enough to accommodate ten people -- the old couple, the two daughters and their husbands, and two children of each daughter. Happy family! Today, my mother-in-law dines on that table alone.

Ditto for my own parents. I was 14 when my father bought a small piece of land, for Rs 35,000, in what was then supposed to be a posh area in our neighbourhood. Getting the land wasn't easy, considering my father, who was almost as old then as I am now, was a salaried man and Rs 35,000 was not a small amount those days. There were anxious moments when the deal seemed to be slipping out of hands, and as a small family of four, we lived through those ups and downs. What a pleasure it was -- living through those ups and downs and then getting to know that the land belongs to us. Finally, construction began and soon we had a house of our own. Didn't matter if the construction ate into my father's PF savings.

Today, my parents live alone in that house, looking forward to one of their sons coming home for a holiday. Their only source of succour is Nano, the mongrel they made the mistake of adopting a couple of years ago. Nano doesn't let them go anywhere: even if my parents are missing for two hours, attending a wedding or something, Nano would first cry his lungs out and then angrily pull down all the curtains at home. And if he happens to have access to the garden, he would flatten all the plants, in revenge. But in the nights, he must sleep on the same bed as my parents, with his head placed on one of the pillows.

So what is the solution? Do I stay on wherever I am, just because I am earning my bread and butter, or go back home and rejoin the family and live happily ever after -- the job be damned? I am really working towards the latter, when money would not be a problem and I would be my own boss, having one foot in Kanpur and another in Chennai or wherever. In all probability it would be Chennai, because that's where the people I love live.