Coffee With Mi

Mi, I toast you with a tumbler of freshly brewed kaapi!

To laugh or to cry?

Is the question. And the answer depends on which side of the table you’re on, usually. And even though I knew which side of the table I was on, I still had a dilemma. Here’s what happened last week.
After my Mom passed away last year, we have been slowly winding up her stuff, painful as it is. Sometimes I wish we could just let them be.  But that’s just a fantasy – so among the various things that had to be taken care of, was her gas connection. Now, I have to tell you, wherever we have to close her stuff, we have to produce her death certificate and well, my eyes still brim over when they ask that. Just as I am getting used to that, they’ve begun to ask for my father’s death certificate. This is a problem for obvious reasons – the fact that he’s not dead. Ok – am not doing this very well, probably because my head’s overflowing with thoughts. I’ll start again.
When someone dies, and their account has to be closed in various places, we’ve got to produce their death certificate. If there’s a legal heir, we’ve got to show proof through a notarized Affidavit. That’s what they tell you in the first instance. But that’s not all. For, you see, everyone has two parents. I have one. Had one. My Mom was a single parent (a terrific one, I might add, even if it is irrelevant here). My Dad, went to the US to pursue his education/work and never came back. He married someone else there and settled down. He also conveniently chose to pretend he has no family back in India. Although my Mom’s family tried to appeal to his sense, it became somewhat clear that they were appealing to something that was non-existent. And so – life went on. It does, doesn’t it? Yes. It does. 
Such as it was – (we’re digressing I know) my Mom who got married when she was 13 and had me when she was 17.5 years old, continued her education (had a life to live, after all). Life went on – we both grew up together, etc., etc. To cut a long story short – I haven’t seen my father at all – no, I have, once – but I’ll save that for another hilarious blog post. Because that’s all it is. Grist to my blog post mill. 
So – back to the present – imagine when everyone asks about my father. I have the tedious job of explaining to them that he abandoned my Mom. 
So is he alive, they ask. 
Yes, I say. 
So please get a “no objection” certificate from him, they say. 
I ask, For what?
Tomorrow (in the future) if he turns up and claims her gas connection/property/various other things – what will you do?
Excuse me, here. We have a biological but legal father who chose to ditch his family 48 years ago. We’ve had no contact at all in these almost-five decades. And he’s suddenly like to come and claim – what – my mom’s gas connection? Oh, please. How grossed out I feel.
Regardless of those feelings, though, I have to somehow find a way to work around the system by talking to people in the various offices to see how I can resolve the issue. Issue, indeed.
So – such is life where non-existent things come back and haunt me. Ugh!
Now you tell me. Should I laugh or cry? Or maybe both?
Here’s a song I like: Movie: pava mannipppu
Ok Mi, I can hear you chiding me for this ‘rothri’ attitude. Here’s your favorite song from this movie, then:

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Vidya Sury

Writer, Editor, Blogger, Influencer. I blog/create content for businesses and edit manuscripts for authors and publishers. On my blogs, I write about all the things I enjoy in life: parenting, personal development, health and wellness, books, food, travel, gratitude, mindfulness, happiness. In my free time I play with my dust bunnies and show my diabetes who's boss.

2 thoughts on “To laugh or to cry?

  1. Vidya,
    I’m so sorry to hear about the loss of your mother. She was still so young. I can understand your frustration with the system that keeps asking about your non-existent father. I hope things get sorted out soon.

  2. I suppose I’ll get accustomed to it, Angela. But until then, I am going to be getting mad quite often. So sweet of you to drop by.

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