This is a sad day in my life. I’m depressed. At an all time
low. And I don’t really know how I’ll bounce back to life…any life. Or even
whether I ever can bounce back.
I allowed the mundane, the ordinary and the unexciting to
keep me away from the biggest hug in the world. I did not say HEJ and I’m now
doomed to be reminded every single day of my miserable life that I wasn’t there
when history took crowded shape.
I wasn’t there when thousands of people responded to a
Swedish Invitation and decided to re-model their lives. With accessories from
the world famous and Iconic IKEA. Forget the towel, the hanger, the doormat and
the pillow cover that I did not buy. Forget the fact that the corner stand was
made as if just for me in that special shade of white. Forget even the fact
that I couldn’t sample their balls…veg or chicken. I wasn’t even part of the
crowd that was sent back when they shut shop.
Becoming in the history of Hyderabad, the first ever
establishment that shut shop within a few hours of its opening.
The psychological scars that have been etched onto me are
already showing. My wife just turned the other way and mumbled something about
having made a mistake all those years back when we got married. My children
restarted a discussion about their rights to choose their parents…at least the
father. My dogs, who normally are more forgiving, decided to sleep in any other
room but mine. I have a feeling that servants and associates will be absent
today from work, unable to digest the fact that I did not make it to IKEA
yesterday.
I am unable to come to terms with a city that dropped
everything they had and dedicated a full day to visit what is nothing but a
humongous godown of mass produced items. Of stuff that hasn’t been tested in
the Indian environ. Hasn’t been subjected to the maintenance torture of Osaye
Ramulamma. And hasn’t even imagined the consequence of losing their
individuality at the altar of custom made furniture and furnishings.
How do I explain to them that I do not want my house to look
like a catalog of knick-knacks that I picked up from an inflated ‘dollar’
store. That I still doubt whether chip board can withstand normal Indian wear’n
tear.
I for one, who is averse to being part of a crowded entry
line even at a temple, will resist the temptation of becoming a goat and desist
from the journey towards slaughter. Maybe one day, in the near future, when
IKEA settles down into not drawing the attention of typically election campaign
mobs who congregate wherever there is free Biryani and maybe a beer…maybe I’ll
drop by at India’s largest godown-store. And maybe there I’ll bump into my old
friend Ramulu who ran away from his house when his wife accused him of having a
bad taste in towel racks…or was it the spoons she didn’t like?