‘Sometimes god gives gold biscuit with one hand and dog biscuit with the other hand’

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🔴Respected Sir/Madam,

As you are aware I have two sons. One is in the United States and speaks to me punctually once a week on Skype between 8 p.m. and 9 p.m. on Sundays. I don’t even have to give reminder. Correct on time he will call and we will talk for exactly one hour about family news, office news, political news, sports news and any other recent developments, for example any new Suhasini film.

Then I have one more son who is in Anna Nagar itself and is full-time working from home from his bedroom in our flat. What to do, sometimes god gives gold biscuit with one hand and dog biscuit with the other hand.

U.S. fellow can call his father once a week, fine. But this Anna Nagar fellow? If I speak to him properly even once a month it is only because my mother once went to Aranmula Parthasarathy temple and dropped all her money by mistake in front of donation box and then everybody said, “Madam, you are a great woman, god will bless you for this generosity.” Then she got too much shame and put all the money into the box and then had to come back to Chennai standing in second class train bogey. Afterwards my mother said if even one bad thing happens to anybody in our family she will immediately go back to Aranmula and ask for refund. She lived till 97 years.

Full of nonsense

And what all nonsense my second son will speak when he talks to me. Appa, whether you have used Bitcoin? Appa, why don’t we buy electric car? Appa, there is a new machine that can make chappati, let us purchase. Appa, will you hold this camera, amma will now put one bucket of ice on my head. This is why when Narendra Modi says that young Indians are the future of the country, I say very good, but the country is China.

So, two or three days back I came home in the evening after Seniors Intermediate Yoga. Suddenly my son came to me and said, “Appa, what nonsense you are doing, wasting time with yoga when only two days left for the election.” “What election,” I said. “Old man, you are living in your own world, are you aware of what is happening in our society? Housing Colony Residents Association election is day after tomorrow, campaign work is heating up like anything.”

“Oh my god, are you finally doing some responsible job, my son?” Suddenly feeling of fatherly pride started filling my heart. “Yes,” he said, “I am in-charge of Social Media Cell for Dr. Shankaramenon’s campaign.” Fatherly pride turned into cyanide.

Way to get famous

I asked my son to explain his job. He said he was going to use all social media things to create a tremendous popularity wave for Dr. Shankaramenon within the residents of our housing colony.

“What nonsense you are talking boy,” I said. “In whole colony there are 100 flats. Out of this, 20 or 30 flats are full-time empty because owners are out of station. Remaining there are 70 flats, but 15 or 20 are rental fellows who don’t have vote. Which means maximum you have to talk to some 40 or 50 flats. Why you are doing all this internet drama, just go and talk to 50 flats. Five minutes each means within half a day you can campaign for Dr. Shankaramenon.”

My son said, “Old man, you are living in 2018 or 1018?” (If this was 1018, I would have sold you and bought a cow or five jackfruit or something useful, I said. He ignored.) Instead he gave one mankibaat. Nowadays nobody does any campaigning face to face, it seems. All that is out of fashion. Elections and all are full internet and technology, he said. For instance, Mrs. Kanakavalli on seventh floor is a member of Bobby Deol Fan Group on Facebook. So instead of just sending a message to vote for Dr. Shankaramenon my son also attached a photo of the doctor holding CD of Soldier film.

“Appa,” he said, “this is the latest digital targeted election strategy campaign technology, you will never understand.”

Election happened this morning. Dr. Shankaramenon got two votes and came last. Immediately after the Housing Colony Residents Association meeting I went home to have some social media with my son. But today apparently he is working from out of home.

Yours in paternal exasperation,

J. Mathrubootham