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Chickens Come Home to Roost

Conjeevaram J. Nandakumar

    The COVID-19 pandemic has made a radical change in underlying beliefs and theory and there is a growing credibility gap among the people. It’s apparent that we humans are more inclined towards the lifestyle than the life itself. I cannot think myself otherwise after reading this humorous verse yet depicting the reality of the lockdown condition in the city written by an anonymous writer in the reader’s column of a magazine.

“The highways are ominously deserted, foreboding and silent as grave
But the graves are full of traffic and bustling with chaotic sound wave.”

    What an apt interpretation of today’s stark reality! I always used to think that writers had to be hellish intelligent fellows, loaded down with redundant grey matter, but today I’ve experienced it myself. Everything is as sweet as a nut to them, even in either end of the bright and grim circumstances, and they always seemed to be on top of their form.
    Ever since the dawn of the pandemic outbreak, it was remarkably priceless effort by the government taking all sorts of measures to contain the pandemic outbreak that’s rapidly spreading like a wildfire. The government has isolated the entire country and classified it into three zones-red orange and green depending on the number of COVID-19 cases. Red zones are considered as hotspots with more positive cases emerging and the green zones will be the districts with zero COVID-19 cases. Mumbai city has been classified as red zone and the Gujarat government has imposed complete lockdown without any relaxations.
    The clamping of lockdown was much admired by the quadragenarian to octogenarian who were more prone to the disease, but there was a marked peevishness among the hearty lads and kids who always look forward to plunging into the gay and prismatic life of the city but now began to crack under the strain. They started talking about the gloom and doom of the once lively and bustling city and became part of the problem itself rather than the solution.

    Still the same quite life went on at the little apartment in Baroda and the same cheerful serenity prevailed among its inmates. One of them was Rajesh, a chemical engineer in an MNC at the top hierarchy level who was married to a woman of his choice, but against the will of the rest of his family members.
    Everybody in his family knows the story of this woman who had a great theory about being possessive and mastered the art of keeping her husband’s close kith and kin at bay. Because of this strained and spiteful attitude his mother preferred to stay with her daughter in Chennai after the demise of her husband. It was almost two decades since he has seen his mother; neither she nor her grandchildren ever interfered with him. She always let him have his own way pretty well.
    He was still the same gentle, affectionate creature that he had been but was dependent for every slight attention and comfort on his wife who tended him. The thought of his wife screaming imprecations at his mother haunted his mind from time to time and he bewailed his dreadful wounds silently.

    The rest of the inmates are of two kids the elder boy aged 14 and the younger a charming little girl of nearly 8 who barely came up to the door knob. The children had great deal of energy and enthusiasm but remarkably free and agreeable in their manners. Rajesh thought them to be very nice children indeed, as there is no doubt they were.
    He was sitting on his couch reading the newspaper with an air of deep abstraction, but occasionally stole a glance at his children to check their activities, as he divested the coffee cup on the table. He composed himself to continue to read the paper. The very first news upon which his eye rested was the following headline.

State wise Safe Zones

    His curiosity has been greatly excited by this headline and he started to check the status of Tamilnadu. He saw Chengalpet came under the safe zone. The moment he saw the name it required nothing to recall the charming sister and his mother to his mind. The news unquestionably proved an indifferent refresher to his memory. He thought, with as much calmness as he could assume, he perfectly remembered his mother’s wish to see her grandchildren, and sincerely trusted she was in good health.
    Fired with remarkably a brilliant idea he scrambled for his mobile and thought fortunately taken the right course, franticly searched for his sister’s number which he however succeeded, after a little difficulty and waited patiently to hear her voice from the other side.
    “Hello, who’s this?”
    “Sister, this is Rajesh. How are you and how is mother?”
    “Ho yeah! And what on earth prompted you to call on us to check whether we are alive or dead?”
    After exchanging of initial pleasantries and exploding of suppressed anger on either side for a considerable time, he was able to succeed to assuage guilt over his promised visits and phone calls that had never happened.
    “I mean,” said he, sinking his voice still lower,
    “You don’t understand how miserable it makes me.” He heaved a deep sigh, and shook his head despondingly. Then at the precise moment he expressed his intention of accompanying his children to her place and leaving them at her care for a month, considering the safety aspect of the children, till the pandemic hype returns to normal. His proposal was heartily welcomed by his sister and mother.
    So far so good, but he still had to embark on a most difficult task of convincing his wife. In as much as he had no choice about the matter, he rehearsed the conversation many a times in his mind before divulging his plans for the kids to his wife. After the plan having been explained to his wife, with such exaggerations as he thought best calculated to rouse her fear of her kids getting infected by the virus if they had any longer stayed put here, he looked at her face with hopeful expression and bated breath. After seeing her animated countenance and expression he took it as her entire and perfect approval of the whole arrangement.
    A couple of days after, he called his sister and informed that he was sending his kids by flight the day after and that she was supposed to receive them at the airport displaying their names on the placard, as unfortunately he couldn’t accompany them due to heavy work load at office and issues in obtaining E-pass to himself due to Covid-19 travel restrictions. Having said this and to make matters still more comfortable, he assured her a great many times that he would be calling her every day at 7:00 p.m. to check about their well-being.
    Three weeks passed fleetingly and uneventfully. At the early hours of one fine morning after the kids’ departure, Rajesh received a call from his sister which was pretty much unusual. He was seized with such a panic at the idea of being called upon by his sister at the ghostly hour of 3:00 a.m. With mounted trepidation and anxiety he picked the phone and said “Hello”.
    “Rajesh you take the next flight and come immediately to Chennai.”
    “Why, what’s the matter? Are the kids ok?
    “They are doing fine. Only mom is hospitalized.”
    “What, suddenly, I spoke with her two days ago and she was fine.”
    “She’s been diagnosed with Covid-19 and is in intensive care.”
    “How come, yours is supposed to be green zone free of virus?”
    “It was and until your kids came to our town.”
    “Why they have been thoroughly screened, diagnosed and declared negative for Covid-19. How are they now?”
    “Nothing to fear about them, they have just been quarantined and safe. The doctor says children have high immunity level and they won’t manifest any symptoms, yet they will be carriers of the virus affecting only others who are easily prone to the disease.”
    “Okay, Okay, I’ll take the first available flight and will be there. Take care of my kids and mom.”
    That very evening Rajesh was on board of a flight to Chennai. He felt very anxious and was too much confused about the things happening around him and made his own speculations in a retrospective manner. As flight took off he dozed away. It was his crying sin of ingratitude, of which he clearly demonstrated he had been guilty, in no ordinary extent, in willfully abandoning his mother and endeavoring to escape from his responsibilities. He awoke at last from what seemed to have been a long and troubled dream. Feebly raising himself from the back rest of his seat, holding his phone on his trembling arm, he looked anxiously at the message that was flashing unceasingly.

Mom passed away

    Tears rolled down from his face and he sobbed bitterly. His most dreaded and haunting memories of the curses have at last taken its revenge in the form of his children.

Curses are like chickens. They always come home to roost.

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