empty nest syndrome an article

Like every other mortal, I too being no different thought that difficult situations always happen to others till I just got engulfed in the mire myself. Our last of the cuckoos (my suputran) flew off last month to P.... because his office wanted him there. My wife has ever since been putting up a brave front trying to prove to me quite unsuccessfully that all is well with her. And I have been maintaining stoic silence.
" Enna? What is that phrase-(5, 4) they use these days? Something about pakshi, koodu.....? Supposed to rhyme with West???” asks my wife solving her Sunday Cryptic.
"Forget it. You are making me schizoid I say. I don't want to get weighed down by schmaltz" I respond.
"Enna? Ethaavathu theriyaraa maathri sollungoo. You, your English and your parandhreez", my wife.
"EMPTY NEST (5, 4) syndrome" I said
"Ah ha! That is it like you, my dear Thesaurus!” my wife happily filled the blank in the cross word..

Years ago when I first heard of "empty nest," it sounded like a pleasant shelter to be in. I have gone through bringing up two kids. And the thought of waking up in the morning (particularly Sundays and holidays) fully rested, instead of the torture of having my eyes pried open by tiny fingers, was quite attractive. I correctly assumed that in an empty nest, I could wear Jibba-dothis without sambhar stains, could let off steam as and when I want and finish sentences parliamentary and otherwise when speaking to my wife with none as witnesses.

Oh, the beauty of a quiet atthaazham at night without spilt milk on pulikkaachal, a house without the background sounds of prolonged, plaintive, inarticulate, loud, high pitched, crying, walls without abstract drawings and sticky fingerprints, and being able to sleep through an entire night with no need to change nappies or sterilize bottles. I could walk many a step safely in my nest without tripping over the toy trains, mini cars and marappaachis strategically placed at places one would never imagine like a booby trap.

However, when I reached that sought-after goal last month, it was rather a disappointment. Up close, the empty nest no longer looked quite as attractive. This was partly because the ensuing years had automatically solved many of the distasteful parts of parenthood. For some years now, no one had been spitting up or wailing to be fed in the middle of the night. Nobody needed to be bathed or dressed or have their shoes tied ten times a day (why didn't they invent velcros earlier I wonder now?). Just when these devils transformed to angels and became pleasant company, they moved out with none to run my errands.

“Is there no justice?" I shouted loud.
"What??? Enna pulambarayal?" questioned my wife who is blissfully unaware of my thought processes still concentrating on her cross word.

Today I try not to look into my son's empty bedroom as I pass by. Even though the beds were all neatly made, the rooms lacked character. The heap of CDs (all Rock, Soul and Metal) was missing from his favourite spot on the floor. College books (which always looked untouched), papers, and wrappers of chocolates had all disappeared. The almirah doors covered vacant areas that at one time had been stuffed beyond their limits with things which I could never fathom when he ever used them. The full blown posters of 'Saif Khan' in Provogue shirts, Steffy Graff retrieving a passing shot, and our own 'Palmolive-da- Jawab- nahin Kapil Dev in action have all disappeared.

When I finally crept out of my depression to take a peek around me, I noticed my dear Sahadharmini, with the pencil in hand, glasses balanced at the tip of her nose looking almost the same as when I had fallen wildly in love with her on the "Pon Paarkkal day" (“Dekho ceremony) at Khar, Mumbai. Except for showing a bit of wear and tear, the years had been good to her. I fondly looked at the gray hairs at her temple, knowing exactly where they had come from (lest you mistake me not from me! some elderly couple on our wedding day had blessed us saying “May all your troubles be LITTLE ONES” How typically prophetic!! We have 2 handfulls.)
I caught myself grinning when I realized that the creases on her face were smile lines, not worry wrinkles.

As I sat gazing at her, I realized my nest was not empty after all. It still held the one special person God and I had chosen to share my life with. In the quiet of the empty nest, it might be easier for us to find each other. As I looked at her I wondered if maybe, just maybe, we could rekindle the sparks we had originally ignited. And then, as if to answer my unspoken question, she looked up at me, smiled and declared enthusiastically while still solving the cross-word puzzle quite oblivious again to my thoughts, " Enna? I got it. Finito. A BIRD, it is in hand........ ......... .....is worth two in a bush na?"
"What a coincidence?” I muttered to my self. "You know we are thinking of the same thing?” I said,
"A BIRD? You mean? As usual Onnum puriyalai "she said quite so obviously.
I dropped the dialogue there to ponder.

I no doubt felt sad and lonely when my kids left the house (you call it Empty Nest syndrome do you?)—until I saw that my most important relationship was waiting to be rekindled. I picked up my coffee (gone cold) with moist eyes, wiped my glasses and said to my self, “How could I??”

“Hello! Isn’t this funny?", I called out to my wife "that in the West they say ‘It is the Woman’s day today 8^th March. Just one day in a year! As for me it is the woman’s hour 24X7 for my entire life”, I said.
“Enna? Braahmanarukku ennaachu? Alright. You are excused. No kitchen work for you today”, she confirmed with a benign smile and left to clean up the dining table.

NEVER CRY FOR ANY RELATION IN LIFE


BECAUSE FOR THE ONE WHOM YOU CRY


DOES NOT DESERVE YOUR TEARS


AND THE ONE WHO DESERVES


WILL NEVER LET YOU CRY

hello akka

man or woman
the thoughts are common
it brought a tear to think ....

and yet the visual with
rainbows and
hibiscus flowers colourful
little fairies..
kutty imp...
love is the shortest...

ninaithaale inikkum...!!

sathya