IODEX

There was this old joke doing the rounds in college- Question, “What is the height of innocence”?  Answer, “Pregnant woman rubbing Iodex.”

Well that was a trifle naughty joke. And can be exercised in circle of friends during banter. There are then statements that may be intended as jokes but when pronounced at the wrong place, at the wrong time can create an awful lot of embarrassment. And when it originates from an adult it may be frowned upon, and may create a piquant situation. Which tells that jokes apart, one must as an adult have common sense in good proportion and good judgment, lest an occasion of banter will be transformed a spoiled stage?

But the liberty and license to thrill and kill are with the toddlers and the little ones. The little children who walk with unsteady steps and utter matters that sometimes thrills to kill you. Embarrass you to no end, evoke erupting laughter, and hush silence in agape and sheer comical situations too. It is height of innocence and witty at that!

“It is not a bad thing that children should occasionally and politely put their parents in their place.”

It was quite a few years ago and my niece was growing out of toddle. She was taken one day to the zoo in Thpuram by her parents. I guess she was two years old at that time. Moving around the enclosures she was carried by her father, my sister’s husband. As usual, when little children are taken to zoo- the arena where primates are enclosed, that would be a fascinating halting point. So my sister and brother in law hung around with the little girl around the enclosure where they had the baboons and chimps. That day had quite a good commune of people at the zoo. The little girl was so thrilled and elated with the primates inside. That she refused to leave the area. My brother in law was carrying her prodded her that they have more great animals to gaze elsewhere. She suddenly blurted out in high pitched voice pointing her finger at the monkeys and  tapping her father’s face, “look the monkey looks like Atcham(dad).” The guy was certainly miffed and embarrassed and apparently people around heard the child’s statement. He gently pinched her and asked her to be quite. She then blurted louder still, “why do you pinch me for that”.” I understand that since that day the poor fellow have not taken fancy with zoos.

She now has grown up into a woman and finished her masters in zoology. She does not rattle or pass trivial talk, but if she tells something, it will as meaningful and sharp that it is difficult to refute the statement.

C’s parents were living in a small hamlet in the Nilgiris. Aravind, my son was quite fond of the old man, her father. We were once out there with the old folks on a short week end ors o. The boy was about four years of age. We were all watching some programme on the television. I guess it was some sports channel and the boy was fascinated with some body building competition that was being telecast. The boy was asking questions to the old fella and he was trying to give the child an explanation or a satisfactory answer. Not quite convincing for the boy! We heard the grandfather tell him something about the muscular physique of the men and how they built it over. The little fella, caught the old man unawares when he asked him,” appuppa why are all their muscles inside their underwear?” The old man a benign and timid fellow was stuttering to answer that question.

An Ode to Mother Dearest

I have seen him, his brothers and sisters do that. I have seen that when I was little and was trifle amused by what I then thought was a kind of acrobatics. Bending and touching at her feet or falling prostrate at her feet whenever they ventured out on a long journey or before engaging in any labour of importance. He, (my father) had asked me and my sister too, to touch her feet (in reverence) before we returned from the summer and mid- term vacations at her place. Which was then a serene, sprawling country side by the sea  with copious  paddy fields  that go beyond the horizon straddling back water canals  and  meandering rivulets on one   side of the  hamlet  , lush green all over with coconut  and areca- nut palms , majestic mango  and jack fruit trees  standing on the fringes of beautiful fresh water ponds - bearing fruits seldom found even in paradise.

I did not literally imbibe the gesture of obeisance I saw him bear with humility towards his mother. But I have not let a day by , since I have  begun using my faculties of thought  as an adolescent  where I have not  gotten off the bed in the morning and began  another day without remembering her, my mother, where ever  she was- in the same house or elsewhere. Day begins with thought of respect, gratitude and remorse for my many delinquencies as a teenager that have pained her much.

Sometimes I trust that the karmic philosophy is just not a theory but a fact of life. Because perhaps what ails one’s life may be the just requital of what one does to one’s parent – mother in particular. Metaphorical though, makes sound sense to pursue as a matter of good living.

She has been the most cultivated and Spartan of women. Her pictures from the old tell much about her pretty countenance and demeanour, the gracefulness of beauty. This, my sister has not been fortunate to genetically acquire. She was called “mayil peeli chechi” (sister with peacock plumes). Such was the amazing lush, long black hair she had. I remember my elder cousins (father’s nieces) reminisce that they were in awe of her the day she came home to my paternal mother’s as the bride just married. They have told me that they wanted to befriend her as quickly as they could, to touch her. My father’s sisters never had a word of remote resent for her, only admiration and respect ,so were all her relatives in law.

No one had ever spoke ill of her and never have she spoken ill of any. Even the difficulties she encountered in marital life, did not make her succumb to speak ill about my father or reveal even a wee bit about her melancholy.  It was not that he was unkind to her .This happened while I was little, may be eight or nine years old. The conversation took place between my maternal grandfather and my mother. Or was it a monologue from him? He was a domineering person as men were more autocratic those days. He did not meet eye to eye with my father and they had mutual dislike. It was some matter that troubled my mother and I saw her weep. She was being admonished by her father (my grandfather) for putting up with my father. He wanted her to separate from him and proclaimed that he had the obligation and the resources to take care of her and her two children. She was not angry with her father for what he wanted her to dare. He in fact understood that of all his six children, it was she who would be with him and not for his wealth. And she was a portrait of decorum even in the most distressful times of her life. We in jest say she is the eponym for tolerance. But she has never forsaken self respect.

She was quite a terror to me sometimes. I now guess that it was more out of her frustrations that she was annoyed with me than my provoking her anger.

The respect that came forth for her from all because of her demenour was conspicuously apparent to me when elder members of the acquaintances, friends and relatives we have one after the other  reminded me of not to hurt her by word or deed. This was when they were told that I was to marry a girl from a catholic Christian background. There was this friend and school mate of her who did not mince words in reprimanding me and reminding me about my decision and that in no way must hurt her.  And it has not , I’m fortunate!

Genteel as genteel can be,!

Wisecrack

A friend feels that perhaps what he sees as my intemperate reactions these days is because of my state of mind. Coming from a good friend the comment cannot be dismissed as insensible or not true and I indulged in self analysis and introspection. Though he was the only fellow to make this fantastic judgment! But I had to be discreet; tread with care, not to be biased about myself if I might suddenly notice my not so exemplary quality as he sniffed. I must be cautious that I do not go forward with the sole aim of rubbishing his/her observation. I must be sure to be diacritical.

It is a funny game this social living. I’m certain primates too may be having all the advantages and difficulties of gregarious living. It is funny when we sit back and rewind, sensitive indeed is this art of “communicating”. Unlike what Bindu mentioned in her comment in her Blog post, it is just not in business matters alone that communication can be important. Even in mundane affairs, among spouses, parent and children, between friends, with acquaintances, the stranger on the road-with everybody it matters.  A pause or a comma, a colon or silence, all might be construed as meaning something different than intended and diametrically opposite too.

Once a person opined that if someone calls you ‘monkey’, wisely there should not be any recrimination or reaction even. He said such name calling would not make one so. It certainly will should one react angrily at such an act.

 Yes indeed, the mental plight plays a great deal in affairs of a person and the way he conducts himself. Am I petulant? Do I throw my peevishness, my stress, my disturbed mental or physical state upon an unassuming person?

Yes I have done so. I have picked up quarrel and raised voices with frustration than anger, well that was mostly with C. In the office I have sometimes got quickly provoked at the slightest pitfall in a person. I have thrown files back at the person. These were, call it temperamental reactions to certain event or person over whom I could not exercise control .I guess this most of us do. We pick up some one manoeuvrable to vent our pent up helplessness.  And often that will be our spouse.

It was long ago may be in the early years of our married life, I picked up few din with C. Reason I really do not remember. But I suppose that the villain of the piece must have been me. One was a verbal confrontation of sorts and I guess I was quite pissed out with C’s callous attitude at my excitement that out of annoyance I picked up the decoction of coffee and poured on her head. She looked the victim of a prankster on holi. Yet another time we were arguing on something and again I was annoyed at her retorts or indifference that I threw the plate of omelets to the far corner of the room. It rang through immediately all over my nerves that I did something horrendous with food. I remember aplogising to her, picked up the platter and ate in remorse over my action. Sulk, I did!

Have I abused someone because of my failures or mental state?  Certainly no. In fact throwing the anguish of one’s meekness at home, error of judgments and repercussions in professional or personal matters on someone has not been my conspicuous attribute. There are many who do that and are an incorrigible lot.

What transpires in my mind of my travails in life has been my sole companion as my shadow itself. And I do not think that even C or the children have thought of leaning over to see what  goes through in my mind. More often it has been a lonely haul in abasement, except that, there were a few close ones who spied out in anguish that devastation shows out. This has been the matter in affairs thick and thin.

Then how the hell is this fascinating discovery that my words and deeds reflect my travails and perils? It is easy to be in judgment, I suppose. And it will be wise to not react when one is called a primate or an ass for example, because if one is sure, it is silly to retort on something that is silly and untrue .Let the Troubadour sing in praise of what I’m not.