Friday, March 2, 2012

The Misfiring Knack


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 pickle 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 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 date and had begun to permeate its pungent smell all over the house, and perhaps our neighbourhood too.

Okay, I take the blame for this mishap. But what did she mean by her sweeping remark; "Yet another instance of your misfiring ability?" It did not take her long to unleash; she has such things at her finger-tips.

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  (my wife is well versed in Bengali, and I know a bit of it). 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  your elder son as you were suggesting to each other, but in the end 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 Tamil-Bengali couple.

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 if only my nose were a little less long. I belonged to an affluent family then, so 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 connections those days). In my role I was to react sharply to a suggestion of my wicked lieutenant and say "huuhh" steaming forcefully through my nose. In the force of the air released, the moustache that was clipped into my nostrils fell off. The alert light-boy (working in our household) switched off the light to enable me to pick it up and re-fix it. This done, the light was switched on. But there was a second uproar of laughter. Yes, in the spadework 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 [Bank of Madura?]. 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 and reckoning  my place in the queue, I realized that from the standpoint of numerology the certificate number that I would get might not bring me luck, but the one next would. So I allowed the man behind me to buy the certificate telling him that I was still undecided. And, as soon as he bought it, I got mine too. I checked results later. Yes, I just missed the first prize by one number. That chap to whom I surrendered my place had bagged it.

Anyway, as a never-say-die, I still tell myself, if winter comes, can summer be far behind? I might strike it rich one day, in another form, if only my misfiring knack doesn’t deny it.
(Published first in Hindustan Times June 17 1983)

V.V. Sundaram
28 February 2012

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