A SOLITARY CMI LIFE IN A SUITE ROOM

May 24, 2023 Wednesday 11 pm. 

Since we have no permanent dwellings here...

I thought I will write this long letter to you all, after the pattern of our letters of olden times.  I think I wrote a regular, long letter long back in 1997 enroute my return from Mumbai after completing MA.  Since then, I have not really written a letter as such. (I remember, I had xeroxed it and sent to most of you).  So, treat this as one such long letter.  And as usual, if you don't have time, I have no issues with it. But I find this easy to circulate among our group. 

I arrived at Al Madina Suites, Doha Jedeida (means, new Doha, though, now, it is the Old Doha), on March 25th 2023.  I thought it would have been for a day or two, or at the most for a week or a month.  But no such communication took place between me and the school management of Doha, at whose request I had joined Rajagiri Doha, as its Academic Director for the time being, and to take charge as the principal, with the new academic year.  I was not keen on this assignment, but had obliged under obedience I had vowed, and was more than willing to go elsewhere after a year. 

Though nothing was clearly revealed to me, finally to some extent on my own initiative I came to the conclusion that the management was not willing to run the risk of having someone whose qualifications did not explicitly match the CBSE requirements.  I had no regret of not being the principal, however, I felt, if I were to continue there and make an effective, meaningful contribution, there was no way but to be the principal.  Or else it was almost like the life of a Shikhandi - neither male nor female = not being politically incorrect, as I don't say it is a bad status in itself, but something which I would not prefer to be in; appearing powerful, having no way to get the things I want to get done, nor getting the right kind of information, at the right time - what, at the best, I could do was to share my ideas with the Principal or Vice-Principal, get them to think whether that will fit, or get the management to listen to some ideas, which they hardly ever seek... Indeed, a life zapped out of enthusiasm.

But I decided to make the most of what I could, while being here - more than 'make hay while the sun shines'. So, I tried to look at the basics of the school - its vision, mission, core values, and look at the school education from a CMI perspective of holistic development, with value education, not as a 'light subject', but as an enlightening core subject transacted through the entire curriculum, not just a text book on value education.  I tried to relook at the school policies and make them into a comprehensive and integrated whole. And made some dent in rethinking career orientation and education for sustainable development - but still not sufficiently well. I also managed to get another, younger and qualified CMI priest to be in the office of the principal. So, it may be a good time for me to seek fresher pastures, where I could also feel myself relevant. 

Back to hotel - (when I jot this down, don't know why, I connect to the Al Jazeera series 'war hotels', especially to the episode dealing with Hotel Commodore in the civil war-torn Beirut, Lebanon). In the initial days, I didn't have any clue as to how to live there.  

It falls into 3-star category, and could be considered an apartment hotel.  Each suite had a spacious living room around 350 sq. ft, a kitchen area with a refrigerator and a microwave, a bed room of some 225 sq. ft, a cabinet for dress with a locker facility, and a spacious bath cum toilet with a bidet, which I was almost forced to use (for the first time in my life)! There is provision for a concealed geyser, and the water once heated, remained hot, even after 24 hours!! The worst thing about it, as far as a typical Indian is concerned, was the lack of a mug or a bucket.  Thanks to a special occasion, requiring some hot water to be used for the inflammation of my gouty ankle, two old buckets were brought from somewhere, and they remain in the bathroom till today, becoming handy in the summer when the water becomes blistering hot (as early as 5.30 am), and I managed to have a morning bath by storing the water in a bucket the previous night, that it remains cool for the morning shower. I deployed my coffee mug for the typical washroom mug, apparently, drastically reducing water requirement for a normal shower. 

There was a TV in the living room with hundreds of channels and while I discovered several news channels, I failed in finding the discovery channel. I almost began to be an admirer of Al Jazeera, while I also attempted BBC, CNN, i24 (Israel), DW (Deutsch), French (English) channel, and found the Al Jazeera presentation interesting and informative, and their numerous features enlightening. I also found two channels which showed Hindi movies in the course of the day, thus giving an opportunity to brush up my Hindi. In the bed room, there was a smart TV, with net connectivity, and all sorts of channel were perhaps available.  I stuck to the YouTube - initially hitting a few Hindi movies (dubbed from Mollywood), later on Tamil and lately discovering some Malayalam moves as well. It being the last day, I watched two Malayalam movies - B2B celebrating my last day of the freedom and flexibility of a solitary life - Kunchako Boban's 'Postman' and Lalettan's 'Ladies and Gentleman'. 

Initially, and generally later, I was very hesitant to order any food, as I found the same very expensive. I didn't know whether I would end up paying half the salary on food bills.  But the management was gracious on that count, and waived the whole thing, perhaps, substituting their obligation to provide a cook for me. However, I did order something - very frugally - like some upma or dosa or at times, paratha, the triangular north indian type.  Then I discovered a set of soups that would fit with me, gradually, my menu became very peculiar - usually one meal a day, at times, twice.  Fruit was a regular companion of  the meals. After initial days of cut-fruits, which in spite of my cautioning, did taste of onion, I insisted on getting whole fruits. Then experiments with boiled vegetables were tried out - the usual combination was broccoli, beans, carrot, at times with some sweet corn, or boiled green gram or chick-pea, or with a potato, or with a sweet potato.  Sweet potato didn't click - what we get here does not fit our taste.  At times, I asked for a sprinkling of grated coconut on it, or at times, some dried grapes or a boiled egg. I found this, without any masala, rather tasty and quite filling. At times, it was just boiled sweet corn. On rare occasions, I went for a chicken stake which came with french fries and some green (not leafy) vegetables. Another festive meal was pasta with shreds of chicken in that. I tried fish curry twice, and didn't find it appealing. For all these 14 months, I managed without any rice, monthly twice or maximum thrice chapati, most of the days vegetables, and other days upma of sooji (semolina), millets, bulgar, or poha (beaten rice).  There was no breakfast any of the days, whereas on some of the Fridays, I had a sort of brunch, usually of fried eggs, and some porridge. I hardly had any milk tea or coffee, and reduced my intake of sugar.  Fortunately,  I have not gained weight, though I have neither lost any. 

The Hotel Menu available to me!
These were my goody experiences with the hotel, and I thought I ate healthy and had hardly any issue with stomach.  Mr. Sunder, the hotel management trained manager, had a great understanding, thanks, likely to Mr. Jacob, our MD's instructions. 

I was lodged on the 7th (top) floor, and at times, I climbed the 192 stairs up as an exercise.  2 swift moving lifts were always at the service of the few residents here. Apparently, post-covid the hotels were not really having great business.  I often wondered how they survived.  But today landing here at the apartment, lodged on the first floor, it's just 26 steps in all to reach there.  But the office being so close by, I hope to be regular with my exercises.  And with the designated principal being a great badminton enthusiast, I hope to give him company, though a dislocated shoulder does give me some anxiety regarding a relapse. The hotel had an air-conditioned multi-gym - though small in size, sufficient to keep oneself, fit, if properly used.  

Initial days, I had to be picked up in the morning around 7 (always reaching the school much after the prayers and Qatar national anthem), dropped back for the lunch break around 2, at times reaching around 3 pm and being picked up again around 4.30 pm and dropped back at 7.30 pm. Once my coveted driving licence (generally regarded a great achievement) was obtained, I was glad that though a new car was added, the carbon emission could be cut into half definitely, and now being on my own, very often even to a quarter by choosing not to go for the lunch break. At times, I did the second trip on a bicycle having carbon reduction and fitness accomplished in one shot - it was around 10 kms one way.  And I began to arrive at the school before almost in time for the morning sessions at 7.15.  It meant starting off around 6.45 - 6.50 am!! 

Though, the facility to get the clothes washed was there, I used that very minimally, as I didn't want my mental fitness to get my clothes washed regularly to be lost in the bargain. I instructed that bed linen not be changed daily, but once in two days or three - to do some justice on the water front!

Usually, morning started between 5 and 5.30, at rare times going closer to 6. One very good thing about this period was regularity with my morning exercises, my own adapted version of yoga for about half hour, usually combined with news delivered by Al Jazeera. 

I began my stay with the resignation that my days of being athletic were gone - that if I could walk well, it was a great grace.  But almost forced to taking a small dose of medicine after several experiments without them, with febuget 40 at night, it appeared that my feet and joints were not yet gone for good. And lo, in the fourteenth month, I was able to set my own record of covering 5 kilometres in 37 minutes - but for 3 prior fun marathon attempts, the only time I have crossed the bar of 5 kilometres in a stretch jogging!

With no priestly sacramental ministry permitted here for the public, I had to be confined to my cell for my daily mass, after experimenting with community mass for almost 3 years. But I could do it with due preparation, remembering all possible people and nations, those whom I liked and disliked, those who requested my prayers, those who apparently were against me, those who celebrated some special occasions...some of the people listed were removed as they seemed to have attained the intended goals, a few others removed as they were thought to have reached their ultimate goal. May they RIP!

My repeated and consistent efforts to be a 'befriender international' did not succeed with the beloved sons of the amiable St. Francis.  My effort to getting in touch and reach out by inviting them for a lunch - a very rare gesture from my miserly self - did not evoke any response from the capuchins. They appeared happy friars with themselves having no dearth of men and mammon around them! 

I generally managed a rosary in five languages (Beginning with Syriac Our Father - abun d' bashmayya? and Hindi Hail Mary, then to Spanish, Deutsch, Latin and French, and when affordable, one each in Urdu, Tamil and Kannada), a mass in Spanish as a preparation for Ecuador Mission, a weekly mass in Deutsch, in case, an opportunity emerges - both self-taught (so likely to have all possible errors).  I was rather consistent with the normal liturgy of the hours - but usually offered them while driving the car, or integrating with a walk or yoga. 

The best thing about this period was that I began to write on some stuff or other like this... and kept on writing - as if it were like the Mohanlal movie 'ayal kathayezhuthukayaanu' or like the Tom Hanks' Forrest Gump who just kept on running for no reason whatsoever. But that led to some publication, mostly in popular magazines and just two in some academic journals.  However, my involvement as a professional social worker appeared 'thap' - almost at a dead-end - just a matter-of-fact, not really regretting! 

So, by now I may be holding a few world records: 

For the first CMI to have lived for so many days consecutively out of a hotel suite room.

For the first CMI to have gone around India on a motorbike with a distance of 21010 kms under one's belt

For the first CMI to have covered a distance of 222 kms on a bicycle in a single day

God willing, I would like to criss-cross Qatar on a bicycle before I leave this country. 

Enough??

After 14 months, as I shifted myself into the flat adjacent to the school, it didn't give me sufficient ground to be proud finding myself still a man of baggage. I had 2 big bags, a back pack, and a lap-tap bag serving as a hold-all.   And I had some 6 plastic carry bags (all stored from the goods that reached me, and not one of them directly on my account) filled with stuffs - all the bottles (coffee, tea, and jam now converted into kitchen ware) to store some snacks, and now, if warranted, some masala; one with my footwears (from a single pair of rubber slippers as an MA student, now I have at least 4 pairs for various uses);  and from a maximum of 3 pairs of regular dress (pants and kurta), now several, most of them dumped on me and not accumulated out of desire. 

The only stuff I have added after coming here is a shirt imposed on me by the manager, a power bank, a mobile holder cum speaker, a 2 TB portable hard disk, 3 new books (heavy)... all came as unsought gifts!!  So, these do not permit you to go freely as you would want to, books, usually, I donate to the library after reading.  

Baggage dumped in the apartment bed room       On arriving at a residence, and starting afresh, I  realise the taxing aspect of it - which I had been spared all these years. Even now, with the support given by the school management, it is very minimal. Still, I feel the burden, which, if no other way, I will still bear, without fuss or cribbing.  But I realise the freedom I used to have in this matter.  Arriving at the new flat, just behind the school campus, I found vessels, dishes, some provisions, a refrigerator, a four-unit stove, which has an electric switch to let the gas burn with a spark, a microwave oven, a mixer/grinder, a bread toaster (I have hardly had any bread in my hotel stay), and a set of crockery.  Mind boggling (according to Simba, mind iz blowing)!! That to live alone in an apartment, one has all these requirements! Likely that I will have to go out to secure provisions for the kitchen in the coming months.