Much has happened in these months. I got my left eye lasered, ran around to other eye doctors. Ma's health has taken a further small dip. 'Nobody said it was going to be nice.', but that doesn't stop it scaring the hell out of you and wish that things were better, and stop you praying that she lives longer than you fear she will.
It's the beginning of the slide, the noose is slowly tightening, it's slowly, little more than imperceptibly slipping out of our control, until the beginning of the end, jokhon hurmuriye the rope slips out of your fingers, ar tokhon tumi victim, as the waves hit you, ar matha nichu kore brave kara chhara ar kichhu karar thakey na.
I was going to write that I thought the single life would be about being able to live in a carefree way, spend as much as you want without having to worry, etc. But that is not among the things I had looked forward to, really, as a person of the world, though it is always welcome. I thought career would always happen, and the thing to get a-hold of was a really fun relationship, and lots of sex. Anyway, I digress. Because, at 31 and as a single person, 'woman', if you like, I find myself wishing I could spend money without worrying about it. Not on knick-knacks, but rather more weighty frivolities: an AC, renting a nice flat, travelling without the cost at the back of my mind, hiring a cook. The first and the last will likely happen, while I worry through them, because I might not hire an AC this year and ma is slowly getting slower, and less able to manage things by herself. And she is just 57. The other thing I end up spending money on is food, in a most Bengali way, it seems. Food for me is what clothes are for most people my age, in that it always seems a deserving and worthwhile spend: bhalo jinish ekbar ontoto chekhe dekhbo na! Clothes are, at the end of the utilities: sometimes you dress well to make a point, at other times, on a whim. But mostly, halfway decent and comfortable things would do.
Well, here's what I wanted to record about my last food foray, not that there are too many these days (I wait for the astronomical medical bills to start raging in: each of ma's eye injections cost Rs 12,000, and Rs 1,000 for doctor's fees have become like loose change.) Yes, food. Last Friday, I had gone to Medanta Mediclinic, where the retina specialist told me that I had nothing to worry about, that the laser was not necessary (I am not sure it wasn't) and shooed me out of his office. Buoyed by his verdict, though not completely believing him, and telling myself this was good enough news, I walked into Godrej Nature's Basket convinced that good stuff was obviously in order. And bought several things which I think I would not have if my vision was not quite so blurry. Not being in complete control of my surroundings made me very blase, so I bought food worth Rs 1200 and swanned home on an auto. But if I didn't spend all that dough, would I have tasted those heavenly pork salami (Prasuma), the not bad pork frankfurters (Prasuma), the bloody awesome banana walnut bread (Chez Nini. this I know I wouldn't have bought in other circumstances. Rs 200 for a tiny hunk of bread!), and the Monterey Jack cheese (very mild and astronomically priced, bought because of the recall factor of Steinbeck's Cannery Row which is set in Monterey).
If ma could eat out, we would have gone to so many places. Now, we are looking at a cystoid macular oedema. Thakur, ma ke koshto diyo na. Ami eto bhalo mondo khachhie, ar desher beshir bhaag lok bhalo kore khete pay na, bina chikitshay mara jaye. Tao ami eta chaichhi ma r jonne.
If we could live more austerely, and give some of what we earned every month to those who have nothing, we would perhaps all live better as a whole.
It's the beginning of the slide, the noose is slowly tightening, it's slowly, little more than imperceptibly slipping out of our control, until the beginning of the end, jokhon hurmuriye the rope slips out of your fingers, ar tokhon tumi victim, as the waves hit you, ar matha nichu kore brave kara chhara ar kichhu karar thakey na.
I was going to write that I thought the single life would be about being able to live in a carefree way, spend as much as you want without having to worry, etc. But that is not among the things I had looked forward to, really, as a person of the world, though it is always welcome. I thought career would always happen, and the thing to get a-hold of was a really fun relationship, and lots of sex. Anyway, I digress. Because, at 31 and as a single person, 'woman', if you like, I find myself wishing I could spend money without worrying about it. Not on knick-knacks, but rather more weighty frivolities: an AC, renting a nice flat, travelling without the cost at the back of my mind, hiring a cook. The first and the last will likely happen, while I worry through them, because I might not hire an AC this year and ma is slowly getting slower, and less able to manage things by herself. And she is just 57. The other thing I end up spending money on is food, in a most Bengali way, it seems. Food for me is what clothes are for most people my age, in that it always seems a deserving and worthwhile spend: bhalo jinish ekbar ontoto chekhe dekhbo na! Clothes are, at the end of the utilities: sometimes you dress well to make a point, at other times, on a whim. But mostly, halfway decent and comfortable things would do.
Well, here's what I wanted to record about my last food foray, not that there are too many these days (I wait for the astronomical medical bills to start raging in: each of ma's eye injections cost Rs 12,000, and Rs 1,000 for doctor's fees have become like loose change.) Yes, food. Last Friday, I had gone to Medanta Mediclinic, where the retina specialist told me that I had nothing to worry about, that the laser was not necessary (I am not sure it wasn't) and shooed me out of his office. Buoyed by his verdict, though not completely believing him, and telling myself this was good enough news, I walked into Godrej Nature's Basket convinced that good stuff was obviously in order. And bought several things which I think I would not have if my vision was not quite so blurry. Not being in complete control of my surroundings made me very blase, so I bought food worth Rs 1200 and swanned home on an auto. But if I didn't spend all that dough, would I have tasted those heavenly pork salami (Prasuma), the not bad pork frankfurters (Prasuma), the bloody awesome banana walnut bread (Chez Nini. this I know I wouldn't have bought in other circumstances. Rs 200 for a tiny hunk of bread!), and the Monterey Jack cheese (very mild and astronomically priced, bought because of the recall factor of Steinbeck's Cannery Row which is set in Monterey).
If ma could eat out, we would have gone to so many places. Now, we are looking at a cystoid macular oedema. Thakur, ma ke koshto diyo na. Ami eto bhalo mondo khachhie, ar desher beshir bhaag lok bhalo kore khete pay na, bina chikitshay mara jaye. Tao ami eta chaichhi ma r jonne.
If we could live more austerely, and give some of what we earned every month to those who have nothing, we would perhaps all live better as a whole.
