Memory and Desire

The temple was far more crowded than the church when I visited them both before noon today. This is a habit I picked up from my wife: visiting houses of worship on New Year's Day. She visited the Kali temple at Kalighat in Calcutta (Kolkata) with my son today while I went to the Novena church and the Sri Veerakaliamman temple in Little India, Singapore.

This was my son's second trip to the temple since he flew home from his college in America before Christmas. My wife took him to the temple the very day he arrived. Usually he objects because of the crowds. But this time he didn't object too much, said my wife. He knows he has to listen to his mum.

Had my wife been in Singapore, she would have insisted we visit another temple at Potong Pasir. That's what we did when she was last here on New Year's Day. But I left home too late; the temple at Potong Pasir might have been closed by the time I got there from Little India.

The temple in Little India was so crowded I couldn't even get a good look at the deities. So I went there again before 5 pm, knowing there would be fewer worshippers then. We go to say our prayers. But we had a rough time last year and I can't pretend things are looking up. My mother-in-law passed away. I had to leave my old job. Uncertainty still stares me in the face. Still, we have to appreciate what we have.

I am savouring this quiet evening at home, in the fading light before sunset, waiting to speak to my wife and my son. They had a visitor when I called them after returning home from the temple. So she said she would call me later. That will make my day.

I may not be wise or bright. There wouldn't have been problems at work if I had been considered good enough. But with age I have learnt to appreciate the little things. A few minutes on the phone with my son and my wife is all I ask for -- till the day we can be together again. I last saw my son in June-July during his summer holidays when I visited Calcutta to see him. I last saw my wife in October when I went to Calcutta again after her mother passed away. We will be together again.

It's one o' clock here in Singapore.The New Year is already an hour old. I just spoke to my wife and my son in Calcutta (Kolkata). They are at  a New Year countdown party there with my sister-in-law, her husband and her daughter.

I will call them again when the New Year finally arrives in Calcutta. That's still one and a half hours away. My son gave me an earful when I said I would be calling again. Ever since he went to college in America, he has been acting awfully grown-up.

But who cares what he says? I have to wish them happy New Year again when the clock strikes midnight in Calcutta. I don't want to be left out when they exchange New Year greetings with others. I just want to reach out to them, tousle my son's hair, hold my wife's hand and look into her beautiful eyes. Oh well. Now that I have spoken to them, I can wish others as well: Happy New Year!

I called my wife and my son in Calcutta (Kolkata) when the clock struck midnight there to wish them a merry Christmas. Just because we are Hindus doesn't mean we don't like to spend Christmas and New Year together. That wasn't possible this year, I am still in Singapore. But they are constantly in my thoughts. I can see them on my computer screensaver.

I see pictures of my son as a schoolboy and more recent photos of him wearing a tux on some big occasion at his college in America -- and pictures where he is swaddled against the snow, taken last winter on his college campus.

There are also pictures of my wife as she is now and taken long ago, shortly after our marriage. She looks heartbreakingly beautiful. Her eyes are so innocent and trusting. Otherwise she would have never married me, for I wasn't rich or bright or highly qualified. I don't know what she saw in me but we fell in love and our parents realised there was no point standing in the way. 

Somehow I did end up working in Singapore. But she is still teaching at a college in Calcutta. I never found the courage to ask her to leave her job and come to Singapore: I was always haunted by insecurity at my job.

My misgivings proved right when I had to accept voluntary retirement a few months ago. I must have been found wanting, not worth my salt. Someone nevertheless was kind enough to give me a second chance. But the pay is less and I am still on trial. That's why I couldn't go to Calcutta for Christmas. Nor could my family come here. My son, who arrived in Calcutta from his college in America on Wednesday, had no time to get a visa here.

My son was offered a place at a university in Singapore when he finished school in Calcutta two years ago. But he was also offered scholarships in America. One reason I didn't encourage him to come to Singapore was that I was already worried about my job. He would have been on his own if I had to leave Singapore, I thought, so why ask him to come to Singapore when several of his schoolmates were going to America?

So here I am alone in Singapore on Christmas Day, thinking of my wife and my son, seeing their pictures on the computer, and about to call home. I will speak to them as soon as I finish this post. I called them twice yesterday and once after midnight. Now I want to hear their voices again.

Meanwhile, to anyone who stumbles on my blog, merry Christmas.