The Poor Man Surrounded by Questions
(Sawaalon se ghira bechara aadmi)
A man doesn’t become bechara (helpless) for no reason—his entire life, from childhood to old age, is spent encircled by an unending barrage of questions. This is the story of every such man whose life is entangled in the questions of three women and three men—maa (mother), patni (wife), and boss (if the boss is a woman); baap (father), beta (son), and boss (if the boss is a man).
Let’s begin with childhood. The mother’s daily, thundering question would be:
“Did you eat or not?”
And we, fumbling for an answer, would begin, “Mummy, I had something from outside…”
You’d barely utter half a sentence before her eyes would gleam—she already knew that the same old daal-tindey (lentils and gourd), which her son had never liked, was cooked again. And she also knew that you had wolfed down a plate of mutton biryani outside. But you never had the courage to answer “yes” to her question. And before you could offer any explanation, a plate would be placed right in front of you.
And if by mistake you dared to say, “Mummy, this daal-tindey every day is a bit too much…”
That day, a torrential downpour of taunts would follow:
“Beta, wait till you get married. Will you throw tantrums like this at your wife too? I’m tired of both father and son—my life has become a circus because of you two… blah blah blah!”
Marriage didn’t change much either. Now the wife serves the food, but if you don’t put the plate in the sink after eating, be ready for a full-fledged lecture on “table manners.”
Back in childhood, there was another echoing question—father’s daily query:
“Where are you going?”
And the universal response:
“Just stepping out for a bit.”
This was a dialogue frozen in time—neither the question nor the answer ever changed, and neither brought satisfaction.
The mother had one timeless reason to summon her son home:
“Come home, I have to tell you something today!”
This “something” remains a mystery to this day. No matter how many times we returned home, we never mustered the courage to ask, “Maa, what exactly was it that you wanted to tell me?”
Although, sometimes pitaji (father) would begin “explaining” things by removing his slippers—a form of communication that needed no further clarification.
When that same boy grows into a teenager and moves to a hostel for studies, the first question over the phone is—
“What are you doing, beta?”
And no matter what he’s actually doing, the answer is always pre-decided:
“Studying, Mummy.”
If, by chance, the sound of the flush from the washroom leaks into the call, the parents are overjoyed:
“See! He’s not only relieving academic stress but also… well, himself.”
Another eternal maternal question is:
“How’s your studying going?”
We reply with great confidence:
“It’s going well.”
For mothers, it’s a formal query; for us, a formal answer feels safest. But for pitaji, a full report was always mandatory, because only he held the power of pocket money.
And when he sensed the money angle creeping in—
“Papa, I got a really good rank this semester… even the chemistry ma’am praised me in class…”
He’d call out to the mother—
“Listen, ask him how much money he needs in his account this time.”
Once that boy lands a job, the father’s question changes to:
“How’s your job going?”
The reply sounds like it’s meant for a suspicious intelligence officer—never quite satisfying. The father, though well aware of workplace politics, boss’s moods, and the pressure of targets, still considers this question a ritual.
And the son, equally ritualistic, replies:
“Yes, it’s going okay, Papa.”
Married life adds a few more metaphysical questions to the mix:
“Who am I?”
“Why have I come to this earth?”
“What is my purpose?”
These are questions a man begins asking himself, and after marriage, the frequency of such existential inquiries multiplies. These are the very questions that momentarily turn any married man into a philosopher—
unless he dares to accept the straightforward answers:
“You are a husband.”
“You came to this earth to get married.”
“Your purpose now is singular—to run the household.”
“You got married because, son, life isn’t just about happiness anymore!”
Then come the truly terrifying questions that bring with them a storm of dread.
Like when you hear on the phone:
“Listen, when are you coming home? I need to talk to you…”
Know that this is no ordinary conversation. It’s the doorway to a mysterious cave—entering it means diving headfirst into a sea of uncertainty.
The husband’s heart trembles, and he’s swept into a flashback—reliving every mistake from the past seven lifetimes.
As he heads home, it feels like he’s crossing seven oceans, scaling mountains, navigating cliffs and caverns.
In this whirlwind of a life, the poor man sees himself as a warrior who neither knows how to wield a sword nor how to raise a shield. Every day, he is wounded by the arrows of one question or another. Yet he rises again with a smile.
The moment he returns home from work, he’s greeted by the innocent question from his children—
“Papa, what did you bring for us?”
Even the family dog looks at him with questioning eyes, as if to say—
“When are we going for our walk today?”
And to top it all, the wife, in a rare romantic mood, might ask—
“Listen, how much do you love me?”
Now this is a question no university degree can adequately prepare a man to answer.
If only there were a scale to weigh love, or an inchi tape to measure it and present the reading!
And then there are those regular marriage-trap questions:
“What should I cook today?”
“How do I look?”
“Which saree should I wear?”
“What are you forgetting today?”
Each one of these can make even the most innocent husband look like a convict in the courtroom of matrimony.
Life may be filled with questions, but every answer a man gives seems to birth a new one.
And hidden within these questions lie all the humor, stress, thrill, and joy of life.
Indeed, the aadmi bechara—the poor man—isn’t bechara for no reason.
Author: Dr. Mukesh ‘Aseemit’
Location: Gangapur City, Rajasthan
Address: Dr. Mukesh Garg, Garg Hospital, Station Road, Gangapur City, Rajasthan, Pin Code – 322201
Profession: Orthopedic & Joint Specialist
Writing Interests: Poetry, Memoirs, Essays, Satire, and Humor
Published Books:
- Narendra Modi Ka Nirmaan: Chaiwala Se Chowkidar Tak (Published by Kitabganj Prakashan)
- Girne Mein Kya Harj Hai – A collection of 51 satirical pieces (Published by Bhavna Prakashan)
- Roses and Thorns -an English language satire collection (Published by Notion Press )
- Kavya Kumbh (Anthology, Published by Neelam Publications)
- Kavya Granth Part I (Anthology, Published by Lions Publications)
Clcik on the given link to purchase my books – “Girne Mein Kya Harz Hai” और “Roses and Thorns”
Notion Press –Roses and Thorns
Upcoming Publications:
- Vyanga Chalisa (Anthology, to be published by Kitabganj Prakashan)
My articles and satirical writings are regularly published in renowned newspapers, weekly magazines, and literary journals across India and abroad.
Awards & Recognitions:
- Presidential Appreciation Award by the State IMA (Indian Medical Association)
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