The Misfiring Knack

(Hindustan Times June 17 1983)

RELAXING at home on a Sunday morning. I felt a strong smell emanating from the kitchen. I asked my wife: " I say, is some rat dead; or you have opened an antique 'achhar' jar from the attic; or, are you trying some new dish?"

The last delivery was a bouncer and she turned in on me like a wounded tigress. "It is all because of your wonderful prediction-yet another instance of your misfiring ability."

"Yes, it was a bright sunny morning a few days before this. I had suggested to her that I expected the next few days to be very hot; she could make the rice paste for Karu Vadaam (a pappad variety-Phul wari in Hindi), and get the preparation dried up in the sun before the dust-storm season set in. She promptly prepared the paste the next day. That was all. Since then there had been nothing but rain, Rain and RAIN. (Remember our Madam Prime Minister even announced that she was going to get foreign experts' opinion on the sudden change in the weather pattern? Exactly those very days.) My wife had fondly been hoping for the sun to show up, but meanwhile the paste was well past its expiry period and had begun to permeate its pungent smell all over the house, and perhaps our neighbourhood too.

Okay, I take the responsibility for this mishap. But what did she mean by her sweeping remark; "Yet another instance of your misfiring ability?" Anyway, it did not take her, to refresh my memory.

We were once shopping from a South Indian store. The young Tamil salesgirl quoted the price of an item at Rs 80. I spoke to my wife in Bengali and in code words (we know a bit of Bengali). We conveyed our offer, but the girl flatly refused. And we bought the piece without any reduction. As we were leaving the girl thanked us in chaste Bengali: " I would have agreed to reduce the price by the age of elder son as you were suggesting to each other, but you were also telling that even if the price was not reduced it would still be a good buy. So I thought I might as well charge you the full price." Later she confided that she was a child of Banglo-Tamil collaboration.

Way back in my childhood, I had wanted to participate in a village drama. The director told me that he would have gladly given me a role but for my substantial nose. Since I belonged to an affluent family then, influence was brought to bear at parental level, and I was included-as a king. In consideration, my father agreed to provide all the stage lighting with connection from our house (only a very few houses had electric connecetions those days). In my role I was to react sharply to a suggestion of my wicked lieutinent and say "huuhh" steaming forcefully through my nose. In the force of the air released, the moustache fell off. The alert lightman (Working in our household) switched off the light to enable me to pick it up and refix it. This done, the light was switched on. But there was again an uproar of laughter. Yes, in the spade work done all too soon in darkness, the kingly moustache that was majestically looking upwards, was bowing most humbly downwards.

This incident relates to a scheme offered by a bank. You deposit Rs 500 for ten years and get entitled to participate in their monthly draw of lots for Rs 1 lakh and downwards. I went to buy one certificate. Being a believer in numerology, as the man ahead of I would be allotted, from the stand point of numerology. No, that won't bring me any luck, but the next one would. So I allowed the man behind me to buy the certificate telling him that I was still in two minds. And, as soon as he bought it, I got mine too. I checked last month's results. Yes, the first prize I just missed by one number. That chap to whom I surrendered my place had bagged it.

Anyway, the world has not come to an end, has it? As an incurable optimist, and with double faith in God on such matters, I keep telling myself. "If summer (...0433) has come, can winter (...0434) be far behind?"