Radio People, Sir

Respected Prime Minister Sir,

Myself Kondal Rao, B.A, Andhra University 1974 batch. I’m a retired Gumastha from the local Taluk office and I live with my wife in a flat I bought myself only Sir.

I’m not wanting to blow myself, but I bought the flat with my money only Sir. Not a single paisa out of my salary! Being a yourself chaiwallah, you understand the hardships Sir, the blood and the sweat Sir.

Sir, I have a son. He lives in the Gulf, he’s married but he comes here only once in five years. My Mrs, she keeps doing this skyping thing with them but I’m not liking it very much. I’m very suspicious of the internet. It’s like opening your bathroom door Sir and saying “Come inside! Come into my bathroom. See where I sit every morning. See where I put my lungi every day!” I don’t like all this “bringing the world together” nonsense Sir.

I keep telling the wife not to do it. But who listens nowadays? Which wife listens to her better half. Haha, that reminds me. I saw this WhatsApp forward message from our Apartment Society group where they called the spouse a BITTER Half. Haha. Some of these WhatsApp messages are funny. But I’m careful Sir, I don’t just forward anything and everything. No Sir, I’m a responsible citizen. You might say patriotic also.

But my wife Sir, she never listens. When we were newly married, she would wait at the door, with Chai and a smile. And then, my stupid son was born. She loved that boy, really loved him. More, much more than me. And when he left for the Gulf, that ETV Sir. Serial after Serial. It was like having 45 ladies in my house Sir. I did not build my house for that many ladies Sir. And they are always crying Sir. God only knows why. And then she left that TV also and now its the internet.

All day, there only Sir. Where are you, wife, I ask. Online I’am she says. My house has two bedrooms, one hall and one kitchen. No online Sir. Where should a respecting wife should be Sir?

Tea is never hot anymore, the bhindi is always undercooked, and the rice is burnt Sir, the color of my armpit. Always online! God only knows, what she does there only.

Tragedy came to my house last week Sir. One night I got up to go to the toilet and I saw this woman, with full blue light on her face. I was thinking, shameless wife, watching blue film. But No Sir. There were two people on the screen.

They had antenna on their heads like my Philips radio and full silver on their body. I shook my wife a little violently.

“Are you cheating on me”, I asked.

“No”, she laughed loud.

Laugh Sir, laugh!

“Sleep, sleep”, she said. “I’m only Skyping”.

All night I went left and right on my bed. Who were these people my wife was talking to, these radio people?

Next morning I knew Sir. They came. To my flat Sir, the flat I bought with my money only. I was just sitting in the sofa reading the Hindu as always. Waiting for my tea as usual. They rang the bell.

As if they were our postman. So much balls. These radio people. This woman, she opened the door instead of giving me my tea. Those radio persons, they screeched something on seeing her. I watched all this like a crazed person.

Panic came over me all of a sudden. I called out “Sarala, Sarala”. She screeched back at me Sir. Never have I been more feared Sir. Never I have heard a sound like that Sir. She went inside, came out with a suitcase and while going out the door turned back and said, “I’m going”.

As if she’s going to the market to get brinjal or to Janaki next door to get chakkar. She said going and she left.

It’s been two weeks Sir and very difficult weeks Sir. Milk boiling is not my ability Sir and Tea is being very difficult. I ate at Lucky Cafe from the next street but I’m going to the toilet every two hours Sir. My son does not believe me. No one believes me Sir. They think I did something Sir. What can I do? I thought I was doing everything required. I did not tell her but I loved my Sarala Sir.

Please bring back my Sarala to me Sir. I will do anything Sir, I will vote for you also. Please bring back my Sarala to me Sir.

Write Club Hyderabad – Crafting the Other, March 2019

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