Random jottings on a Sunday morning

Ever since I learnt of M.O’s ailment I have started thinking about cancer and our war against it. A recent article in The Economist gave some grim statistics: 10 million people were diagnosed with cancer in 2000, and 6 million died from it. And the numbers are growing, despite the billions being spent on cancer research. The article, however, said there was hope for the future, in the form of a new treatment that is yielding positive results.

I am reminded of the first time I saw the movie Anand. I was probably 12 years old then, and the movie upset me terribly. I resolved to become a “doctor” and “find a cure” for cancer. My dad was very amused at this resolve – he even mentioned it to a friend and they laughed about it together. I didn’t find it funny at all.

Over the years two aunts in my family have succumbed to this disease. The count in my wife’s family is at three. And now M.O – someone who was in perfect health until the other day – has it too.

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I’m reading Pablo Neruda’s The book of questions. I fall into a trance, reading the questions…

If all rivers are sweet
where does the sea get its salt?

Tell me, is the rose naked
or is that her only dress?

Is there anything in the world sadder
than a train standing in the rain?

Why did the grove undress itself
only to wait for the snow?

Where can you find a bell
that will ring in your dreams?

Whom can I ask what I came
to make happen in this world?

Love, love, his and hers,
if they’ve gone, where did they go?

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On a recent drive with a friend, we were listening to songs from Swadesh.

“I want to see this movie” he said, after listening for a while.

“Why?” I asked.

“I like the songs – not one of them so far has been of the pyar-mohabbat type!”

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We watched Khoobsurat (starring Rekha, Rakesh Roshan, etc) some days ago. Loved it, as always. Movies are reasonably accurate mirrors of the times they are made for, and this makes it easy to see why they do not make such movies now-a-days. Life isn’t so simple anymore. An Amol Palekar like character – full of innocence, simplicity and quite the opposite of a macho-man – would probably be a misfit in today’s world. Atleast he wouldn’t be someone most people would want to pay and watch in a movie. Thank God for old movies and literature.

* * * * * * * * *

It is a bright morning, and sun’s rays illuminate dark corners of the house and expose well-knit spider webs. Should clean up before wife spots them, I tell myself, and reach for the jhaadoo.

Her eyes are quicker than my hands.