Ministry of utmost happiness - Arundati Roy (About the book)

How to tell a shattered story?

By becoming everyone? No. By becoming everything.

Ministry of utmost happiness's plot runs like a river through the crevices let open by the political climate of the country. Goverment after government ensuring that the cracks expand and go deeper and deeper while opposing the same when they are thrown out of power and replaced with a different one who claimed to be exactly the opposite of the current and promised freedom, prosperity, peace and 'solution'.

Hopes shattered, people live on their lives turned upside down because someone somewhere has a vision. A vision to be loved, feared, remembered.

Arundati Roy takes us on a ride on a houseboat on a lake that is grey reflecting the gloominess of the country, wading through the corpses of those killed by meticulous plan or some as collateral damage, we can't see the faces of the dead because they have been crushed by force, or blown out by a goverment owned light machine gun at point black range when facing it unarmed, naked with private parts tortured with electric shocks. We don't have to close our nose, the corpses do not stink, by the magic of her language she has filtered out the smell but allowed only the sadness to wash over your face, mind and conscience.

A story of the broken who have seen the many faces of brutality, negligence, disregard for their freedom of choice to be as born and die peacefully so.

A real slow boat ride that shows you your country as you already knew but never cared to acknowledge

Put him to Sleep

Dali, our pet dog, has been quiet for the past two days, as if he has understood that the day has finally come. Dali is grandpa's favourite.

Grandpa spends his early mornings sitting in the lawn, throwing Dali a stick or a ball to fetch, wincing a little every time, until he could throw no more.

We are out of dog food, coincidentally.

Time sucks. It sucks away the energy, happiness and strength out of our lives and leaves us behind with the burden of the memories of all the jumping and running around without a worry in the world.

Today's the day.

We get onto the car. I take the seat beside mom in the front while Dali and grandpa are slowly settling down on the back. Mom planned it so that grandpa gets to spend more time with Dali. Nobody says a word during the entire 120 minutes drive along the coast. Neither the chirping birds from the park nor the cheerful beach-goers bring us any joy today.

We're here. It's time to say the final good bye.

Dali, the cleverest, and dearest to grandpa walks to him resting his head on his lap and avoiding to look at his face. Grandpa gently strokes his head while finishing off the formalities and signing a few papers. Once the formalities are done, grandpa gets up and hugs Dali. He hugs him so tight that we feared his ribs might crack. They know that it's the last hug and they both don't mind the pain or discomfort.

The doctors assure us that the process will be painless. And we left him in their hands and walk back to the car.

Though our hearts are troubled by the loss, we are glad that at least we put him out of misery. In the car, I turn around to look at the empty seat and let a drop of tear slide down my cheek bothering not to stop it or wipe it.

Mum stops at the supermarket to get us some supplies; essentials; soft drinks; and a new flavoured food for Dali and some new toys.

Dali will have to get used to playing with us from now.