Chavvy – move on

Chavvy alias Chandra Vadhanam had lost her husband two days ago. Her husband, Beejay alias Babu Janardhanan had a high BP that day and suffered a severe stroke. Bringing himself, and the entire family to a comatose state. Delays in a decision with vested interests of the insurance company, had wasted yet another life. Precisely, twelve days after his forty ninth birthday. Chavvy had adapted a abandoned cat as a gift on his birthday and had named him Beejay Junior – in a manner of teasing the Senior.

Though not the best of romance stories, to turn everyone, including you to blush with pink, theirs was a humungous success in an era when love seldom ended with an arranged marriage. Especially, when both their families got united without much qualms, it was strangely sweet.

Chavvy met Beejay in the Law College. Both were in the same batch, studying the same subjects and in the same class. He was outgoing type, while she was more of an introvert. But slowly both started admiring each other. One’s weakness was another’s strength. Both needed one another to win. For their class, then batch, and then for their college in inter-collegiate competitions. Beejay did have a class and style of his own and excelled in music as well. He was an instant success with all his fellow students. But when it came to academics, he was more practical and weak in theories. She was an ardent listener. She would listen for hours together without a break. She was among the bests in academics. Theirs was a typical example for the saying ‘opposites-attract’. So, everyone around, including friends, were unsuspecting of a budding romance between them.

Both were from orthodox families from different castes. Fortunately, both were of same religion and essentially from Southern India. We may say “strictly south”. These southies were very liberal in their outlook, or so they behaved, as long as their outlook wasn’t challenged inside the four walls of their houses. So, it took a lot of time for Chavvy and Beejay to convince them. It needed lot of grit and relentless nudging. Many love stories in the south pass off as mere stories and far from becoming a reality. While stories from other parts of the country relatively have more violence in their trail. Invariably, most of them would die away as stories.

So, in a way, youngsters in the neighbourhood, emboldened by Chavvy and Beejay’s gritted success, were looking up for serious romance before marriage. They didn’t understand or realise and stand by the sense of the word grit, GRIT. Many didn’t even know its spelling, leave alone its intensity. Some who were seriously involved, did earn the support of this senior couple and had gone ahead with the nuptial knot. Chavvy and Beejay were role-models to many couples. In their caring and sharing, and at times, a public expression of romance, all were inspiring. They did fight on issues, but never between themselves. They lived by the phrase ‘made for each other’, in every sense. Since they followed the same profession, the bonding was the strongest there too. Together, they would help one another, resolve problems and use each other’s expertise.

Nevertheless, life had its own twists. Chavvy and Beejay were in their mid-thirties whey they were married. Delays to bring cupids to solemnise marriage, delayed the stork that bring babies. Despite her desperation, she had conceived only on the fifth year after marriage. By then, their families had given up hope. As life would have it yet another time, the baby was born premature. Adding to the agony, the baby had a rare type of congenital heart disease, which was beyond the scope of any surgically invasive procedures. It remained a closely guarded secret. Only the two of them and her parents knew about it. The family spent much time in hospitals, for the baby. When it was about her first birthday, she left for her heavenly abode. Bee was how she used to be called. Maybe, since she was too small and delicate to handle. Maybe, since she had very little life left in her – a bee’s life. It was the remainder of the second syllable of Baby, of which the first would fall out silently because of a throat eternally choked with the knowledge of an impending end.

Chavvy and Beejay had held one another so closely, without which few more ends, the family would have succumbed to. A grief-stricken couple, who never indicated their sorrows to the rest. On the contrary, they seemed to enjoy company. Partied hard and never hurt a soul. They would indulge in creating newer bonds and have helped many find their love, relationships, and careers too. Everyone who knew them would question God and ask why was he so unkind to them.

After Bee’s departure, Beejay had taken to smoking and drinking rather leniently. His age too had defied the energies that his work had demanded. To recall the past a little, Beejay had stayed stuck during the sunshine days in his career, since his family needed him the most.

Beejay was highly regarded for his technical expertise and had been every enterpreneur’s dream ‘Resource’. A ‘go-getter’ of sorts. Age caught up with Beejay pretty early. No wonder, the wear-and-tear he had been through, no one else would have. Beejay was a typical case of middle-age crisis, more-so in the work-place.

Feeling inadequate in terms of finances, empowerment, stature, material and community outreach. Besides, he used to make comparisons to each and every colleague or neighbour. Feeling cheated or deprived of opportunity and compensation and benefits. Feeling agitated with non-compliant people, in terms of communication ethics or laid down old-day-norms. Feel challenged or perceiving challenges from every direction, big and small. Embroiled in constant pecking, trying to reform as many. Loosing sensibilities, about circle-of- influence and circle-of-control. Taking an all-knowing stance and being opinionated about every aspect on any line of business. Craving for respect. Having (biased) views on merits. Dissatisfaction and discontent over every transaction, relations included. Getting easily upset and brooding over trivial issues for hours or even days. As the intensity grew, he got less of compassion and was driving himself from bad to worse. He stopped taking pills for his border-line BP. This, alongside increased smoking and drinking, had culminated in a main artery in the brain bursting up and creating a large instantaneous clot inside.

The entire family ran pillar to post hoping to revive him, but Beejay gave-in the very second day. He was forty nine yChavvy had lost her mind to thoughts. Typically, “why-me”s and then everything had gone beyond reason. Living dead she had become in those two days. She had realised that her crying did not relieve her of her grief. Quickly, she came to terms, to a state where she lost the reason to grieve on.

Now, she was clear in her mind. To her there was no god (no upper case for god as in God). She has to earn for her life and live by herself. Now, she felt some pain in her tooth, that she had broken when she fell, while frantically running down the stairs in the hospital where he was admitted.

She lost Beejay on Friday night. Rituals were over by Sunday – yesterday morning. All except her parents had left her, unto herself.

She opened her bleary eyes when the cat all seven pounds of squirming flesh, climbed onto her belly. Squinting into the sunlight streaming in from the open window, she discovered that she was now the weary possessor of a pounding headache, and at the same point, had managed to loose both a tooth and a spouse.

It was Monday morning. Schools had reopened after the summer vacation. She could hear the chatter in the neighbourhood. Monday mornings, the chatter would be generally louder than other week-days.

Chavvy got up from the floor where she was lying. She must have slept, she thought, but could hardly remember. Beejay Junior needs to feed. She herself has to eat. She hadnt eaten for two days. Someone has to cook. She looked around. Her parents weren’t there. They might have gone to relieve themselves, for bio-breaks. A lot of work was left to be done. Life moves on – she realised. She too must move on, earlier the better.

Her first task was to feed the cat. Then she got herself under the shower. With the pouring water, her sorrows seem to get washed down the drain. She felt quite relieved, bit revived. Dressed up, she caught up with some left overs in the fridge – for breakfast.

She met her parents at the table. She told them that she felt better, and would want to go to office. While they were doubtful, they didn’t stop her. They too were keen that she moved-on.

In the office, everyone were taken by surprise, seeing her back to work so soon. But seeing her composure, they too had held back their ‘inquiries’ about Beejay. They too wanted her to move-on.

Chavvy is moving-on.