The frail wrinkled hand reached for the remote. Overhead the rickety ceiling fan swept the dense, humid air as it futilely attempted to comfort Rajaram.
The black and white television set had long since given up the ghost and mostly displayed faint, grainy images accompanied by barely discernible sounds.
Rajaram however attributed the low quality of his television viewing experience to his failing vision and hearing.
He lethargically browsed through the few free channels that streamed through his dish antenna and found yet another serial which had a storyline and characters similar to the five others he had already seen since the morning.
His morning had been just like the ninety five mornings he had spent in his personal room at the nursing centre. Ninety six mornings before that day however had been anything but routine.
He had had a restless and lonely night. Not exactly lonely though, for had he been just lonely, it would have been unremarkable given that he had no family. On that night, a dull pain in his chest kept him company.
Saying that he had no family would also be slightly inaccurate. No, he had an ex-wife and two children somewhere in the vast Indian sub-continent. However, ever since he had severed ties with his wife, he had become so much like the floating jetsam of a wrecked ship, floating all by himself in the ocean called life.
His two sisters had tried to mend his marriage, only to face the egotistical wrath of Rajaram.
The television set continued to weakly beam an episode of a serial that Rajaram had been a regular watcher of for the past three years. He had felt an instant connection with the protagonist's husband. The story had begun in much the same way as his life had.
The “husband” had been an IAS officer, just like Rajaram had been one. The “husband's” family too had arranged his marriage with a well educated woman who was a General Physician.
Rajaram had been amused by the similarities between his own life and that of the “husband” in the serial.
The “husband” in the serial too was an egotist and a male chauvinist. He too had believed that the right place for a woman was to be by her husband's side. Much like the “husband”, Rajaram had been irked by the fact that Susila, his wife, was a successful private medical practitioner who made much more than what his paltry “government salary” amounted to. This had led to a great deal of tension and ultimately, the protagonist left her husband's home and went elsewhere with her children.
However, this was where the similarities ended. In the serial, the “husband” realized the error of his ways and after suffering many privations of the soul and mind (which was very melodramatically portrayed by the director) he re-established contact with his wife and attempted to get back together.
Rajaram's life had however been very different. A few months after Susila had left him, his sisters had come to him with the news that she had moved to Bombay and had become the director of a prestigious medical facility.
With demented eyes, he had thrown his sisters out of his bungalow when one of them had mentioned that Susila had become immensely wealthy.
A few years after having alienated himself from his siblings, he had been discharged dishonourably from the Civil Services after a popular newspaper had exposed his “under the table” deals with many industrialists.
Rajaram felt cheated. After all, he had only been trying to right a wrong, how dare a woman earn more than her husband? Life had continued its downward spiral as Rajaram drowned his frustrations in alcohol and cigarettes. Not even his ill gotten wealth could support him as he frittered it away on booze, drugs and random sluts who he would pick off the streets.
The image in the television set flickered and became grainier than before as the final episode of the serial came to an end. It was followed by an interview of the director.
As previously stated, ninety six mornings before that day, Rajaram awoke to a lovely spring day with an ear piercing scream as the dull pain in his chest had spiked in intensity.
The ambulance ride and the three days in the ICU had been a blur. Three days later, the doctor had come up to him and told him that his death was imminent and that all that medicine could do for him had already been attempted. They had helped him find the 24x7 nursing facility where they had promised to manage his pain and make death as comfortable as possible.
The last of his savings in his Swiss Bank account had had to be withdrawn to pay for the enormous fee of the nursing centre.
The interview with the director seemed to be dragging on, so Rajaram reached for the remote but stopped in his tracks when he heard the director say that the story had been based on a true life story. He went on to reveal that he had been a ten year old when his parents had broken up and his mother had never once spoken about his father after she had moved away with the children. He went on to say that his mother had died three years ago when his serial had gone on air. Towards the end of the interview, he pleaded with tear filled eyes for any information regarding Rajaram, his father.
The fan continued to sweep the dense, humid air downwards towards a Rajaram wearing a shocked expression on his face, his hands limp on the remote as he painlessly suffered his final myocardial infraction.
