As the title suggests, was severely addicted to moonshine for nearly 7 years.
Literally wasting away my life. A meeting with an old man and the subsequent events helped me to get a fresh perspective to kick the habit.
The story below illustrates the incident.
A story about an old man.
There was this man from a remote village in Andhra Pradesh.
He was born in 1919 into a family who depended upon a small farm for their sustenance.
Upon completing his basic education (equivalent of current day 10 std), he began to search for a job. Other than his schooling and toiling at the farm he found time to learn book-keeping and accountancy from the village “Karnam”. The person we know now as the government appointed registar of lands is traditionally known as “karnam” in Telugu.
His patriotism inspired by the ever increasing miasma of nationalistic movement, could not suppress his hunger.
At the young age of 17, he signed up with the British army to escape his debilitating poverty.
Digressing a bit, remember the Bruce Springsteen song “Ghost of Tom Joad” ?
The lyrics go “Got a hole in my belly and a gun in my hand”.
Even the great Swami Vivekanada said that at a baser level religion is not for a person with an empty stomach.
Anyway this frail sickly looking Brahmin boy from a remote village was not considered fit enough to be a foot soldier. Brains won over brawn and he was posted in the accounting department. This department still exists today in the Indian army known as “Defence Accounts”.
He was posted in the big city (
Finally he was able to earn enough to fend for his 2 younger sisters and parents.
Fate/god/destiny/
As it is even today with jobs related to defence, he was subsequently transferred.
Looking at his skill in accountancy, he was given a choice of his posting location.
The choices were
The only languages he knew at this time were Telugu and a smattering of English.
Caught between the rock and a hard place, he chose
Not much is known about the daily routine of this puritanical brahmin boy over there but he regularly sent money and letters home. The letters were brief and seldom as he wanted to save on the postage. (We have Email today !)
A few of those letters still exist today and they give a brief insight into life in those places. But let me not digress.
Anyway, after a year in
His commandant duly complied, impressed as he was with this young lad.
He was promoted and posted in …
The boy or rather I think he should be called a man now, took it squarely upon his chin and manfully accepted the orders.
His letters from
Whether he sowed any wild oats or not is a matter of conjecture but, each letter begain to contain more and more references to the proposal of marriage.
His parents found a suitable girl for him.
At the age of 20 he was married in a village which has now become a
She was just a childish 15 years of age. Marriage to her seemed to be some kind of new game. All she knew was attending the village school and playing. The only for mode of transportation she had know was a bullock cart. And here she was in a train headed to
The benevolence of his commandant saw him move much closer to home.
He was posted in
Though he was drawing a decent amount of salary, he found that he had an extra mouth to feed. He had to also think of how he would provide sustenance for his future children.
Additional responsibility included taking care of his wife.
By now our protagonist was a man of the world, but his wife was someone who had never ventured beyond a 3 mile radius of her village.
How his wife …….. but that’s another story.
The young man began to work harder and harder.
He would wake up early and do accounting for a Marwari cloth merchant until 9 Am.
A streak of entrepreneurship saw him enter into a partnership with a colleague for running a small shop selling fancy items like combs/ribbons/dolls etc.
He would leave the shop by 8 Pm and supervise the preparations in an Andhra mess.
Yes indeed this man was now a partner in 2 businesses. 4 jobs in a day !
Life went on at this breathtaking pace until he was transferred again. He was posted at Bengaluru (which had become
This led to an addition of Kannada to his growing repertoire of languages:-Urdu, Punjabi, Pashto, Marathi.
Kannada was not the only addition, he was blessed with a son by now.
Caught in the trammels of familial life, he cut his coat according to his cloth.
More postings, more children and at last independence !
Not only did we fulfil our tryst with destiny on 15 August 1947, but the prodigal son returned home.
He managed to secure a permanent posting in
Every man has the deepest desire to own a piece of land. He fulfilled this by buying a small bit in what is now a landmark area in the city.
He built a house and saw his children grow up, get jobs and marry.
He would cycle 10 kms to his job everyday.
Once he felt that the family was secure financially, he retired prematurely in 1977 at the age of 58.
At last he had time to pursue his own interests.
Over the years he had developed a keen interest in literature, Sanskrit and religion.
Not necessarily in that order, but one led to another.
He spent his time perusing various books in different languages until he felt that he too had to leave his footprints in the sands of time by writing his own.
Despite his self taught incredible scholarly skills, he felt he had to learn more.
He enrolled himself in the university to study Telugu and Sanskrit at the age of 62.
His classmates fondly called him the “Youngest stud in the class” .
Over the years he managed to write 4 books in Telugu and Sanskrit.
- Who am I ?
- Vedanta – Is this all ?
- Man and moksha/nirvana
- A commentary on the Gita
In the fading twilight of his life, he still retained a robust health.
He would wake up at 2.30 in the morning and perform his religious rituals before getting back to his study of various books.
It wasn’t that he was disconnected from reality and cocooned up in his own world.
His frequent letters to the “The Hindu” newspaper on modern day political events, philosophical thoughts etc. saw him gather a fan following across the state.
He would regularly correspond with like minded people by writing and replyting to at least 70-80 letters in a day. He would devote at least 2 hours in writing a diary. He had acquired this habit of writing diaries since his
All these years he had believed in the concept of the family living as one.
He lived in his house with his 3 sons and a daughter and their respectives wives and husband.
His grandchildren were in school/college or even married.
At the age of 89 he had an unfortunate accident. He slipped in the bathroom and broke his ankle. Despite his infirmity he had refused to use a walking stick.
This literally fractured his life ( pardon the pun).
Despite a successful operation on the ankle, he was unable to walk on his own.
Acquiescing to the use of a walking stick also did not help the situation.
He became bedridden.
A person was hired who would carry him to the bathroom and help him in his ablutions.
His pride was severly affected with this but he continued to keep a cheerful and smiling face. His children began to treat him as if he had suddenly become a burden to them. Of course they were getting on with their lives but spending even an hour with this old man became difficult for them.His equally old wife proved to be the only support he could depend upon.
Though he had a person to attend to his needs in the mornings, there was nobody to look after him for the rest of the day. Literally he wanted a full time nurse
He requested a grandson from another city who was unemployed and literally wasting away his life to come live with him. He did not expect anything much of this grandson, but just somebody to talk to. The grandson who was a drunkard thought this is just another city with new bars to drink in.
They got along really fine. Despite his bedridden condition the old man had lost none of his sparkling wit and clarity in thought.
He would regale his grandson with stories from his Lahore/Peshawar days.
Quoting proverbs as old as the hills like “Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise” were his forte.
After having said that he would go on to say how he believed in this adage and how it has stood him in good stead. He always said that there is a different kind of energy in the early morning. Imbibing this energy gives us strength for the entire day is what he would say. If he began to sound as if he was preaching, he would follow it up with an innocent question. “Do you know who said that ? “
The grandson recovering from the previous night drinking binge would be wondering when he would fire another question. “ Who wrote the vairagya satakam ?”
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He would expound upon the hidden meanings of the passages and then revert back to his first question. “ who said early to bed……”
The grandson would be left scratching his head when the old man would reply with a mischevious grin “Michael Jackson”
The drunkard duties of feeding the old man, taking him to the loo,making him sit in a chair in the balcony etc. would end by the evening when he would try to slink away for a drink. Often the old man would mock his grandson, “ Do you want money ? I have a lot “ hoping he would quit drinking. But you know drunkards……
Things continued in this vein for nearly a year.
One day the old man suddenly called over his grandson and told him to get a photographer.
Why ?
He announced that he didn’t want to live anymore and wanted to be photographed one last time before his death. The grandson thought this was leading to another joke and replied that he would do so for a bottle of scotch. The old went silent and asked the grandson to get a particular bag from his cupboard. He retrieved a cheque book out of the bag and simply asked “how much for a bottle ?”.
It became very evident that he wasn’t joking.
He refused to eat or take medication unless the photographer was summoned.
Eventually he had his way like he did throughout his life.
There is a kind of a steely determination in old men who are on the threshold of death.
Anyway, after this episode, the old man literally stopped eating food.
Everybody in the family tried to plead with him.
But the stubborn old man refused. The drunkard even promised he would give up alcohol.The old man laughed at this and said this was the best joke he had heard recently.
He became serious in the night and quoted from various books explaining his take on life.
Somehow he seemed to have become fed up with living.
Or rather he seemed to have been fed up of having become a dependant on other people for his existence.
In the winter of 2009 he contracted pneumonia and became comatose.
He was taken to a hospital and various machines struggled to keep him alive.
The machines lost the battle in 3 days.
It was the next day after Diwali.
His last intelligible statement was “ I want to go home”
As you may have guessed by now, he was my grandfather and the drunkard yours truly.
I am truly impressed with the honesty and straightforwardness. Very intriguing and captivating tale with sparks of humor :)! I think the genius of writing for a novice reader like me, is to retain an element of simplicity and spontaneity, and I believe you achieved both in a commendable manner. Very nice work, especially given that this is your first in a long time! Keep it up!
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