Exercise in Futility – or, not exactly perhaps

Three of us WHO retirees and our spouses headed Thursday evening to Hosur to attend a wedding Reception of the granddaughter of another retiree. The long- distance drive and the rush-hour traffic jam gave us ample time to reopen our hitherto buried project – two-three nights away from Bangalore. Yes, for ‘rest and recuperation’ at a resort. 

‘Rest? for seniors? What else do you do the entire day?” You might ask. Call it by any name, but we just want a get-away.

“How about Yercaud?” asked Ragu who, along his wife Padma, is just getting back to normal after a hectic schedule solemnizing their son’s wedding.

“Yercaud? Doesn’t it have too many hair-pin bends?” I asked, with a genuine concern. After all the senior most in the group.

“No worry sir,” interjected Manjunath whose Innova Crysta we had hired. “It is only the younger brother of Ooty; you can make it,” visualizing a prospective booking.

That gave Kaleeswaran a spark. “Speaking of Ooty,” he took over, “we can plan a visit to Ooty with a stopover in Coimbatore to see the progress of our retirement homes. Also, we could prevail upon them for the extra window in the corner bedroom that they had themselves hinted.”

“We both had gone to Ooty a couple of times, said my wife. “Moreover, my sister, now in Ooty on a holiday, says it is full of summer crowd.”

“Then we could plan Kodaikanal,” continued Kaleeswaran. “If Ooty is known as the queen of hills stations, Kodaikanal is known as the princess of hill stations.”

“Any other reason, Kaleeswaran?” I asked. 

“Just that Madurai happens to be nearby, and it is my native place. We can visit the Temple City also.”

“Good, but may be not now, during this hot summer. Perhaps later in the year.” I suggested. 

“How about a trip, say to Coorg or Chikmagalur?” I asked, not to give the rest a feeling that I scuttle all suggestions.

“Coorg is okay; but not Chikmagalur.  It involves jeep ride and ladder-type climbing. May not be okay for you old people,” quipped Manjunath, side-glancing me innocently, as I sat in the front row. 

I was the one who recommended Manjunath’s name for the Hosur trip because I liked him. But not any longer.  He could have said, “Chickmagalur involves jeep ride and steep climbing,” and stopped at that. There was no need to add, ‘for you old people,’ and add fuel to the fire by looking at me.” 

“How about Goa,” asked Ragu. “We can go by train, and after seeing Goa, we can take a cruise to Bombay.”

“No way,” hastened Koma, Kaleeswaran’s wife. “I was talking to my daughter in the US, and she said a Japanese lady had predicted tsunami in water-bound areas in June. No risks please.”

“Manjunath, you see the illuminated building over there,” pointed Kaleeswaran. “That is the Reception venue.” 

“I know; so it shows in the Google map, sir,” replied Manjunath simultaneously murmuring something. I don’t know if he said: “Don’t teach a fish how to swim. I am driving 24x7.”

“So, as of now we are back to square one. No decision. Stayput. Play the same old tune, Home Sweet Home,” I said. We got down from Innova, brought our legs to working condition, combed our hair for what little is still left of it and headed to the hall. 

This reminded me of something that can only be vaguely connected. Merchants selling fish wanted to put up a prominent placard in their section of the market. “All types of fishes are for sale here.” One suggested, “All types,” is not necessary. Just “fishes are for sale here,” is fine. Then another said, the verb “are” is redundant in an ad. Just ‘fishes for sale here” is enough. Yet another said, “here” is not needed. Buyers will read it only when they are here. So, just say, “Fishes for sale”. Not to be left behind, another one from behind said, “for sale’ is superfluous. Fishes are not for display. Finally, one said, “Fishes” is unnecessary too. People are already here, and they know what they see is fish and not crocodile or snail. Thus they decided to maintain status quo.

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Wait a minute. I don’t know if I told you or not. We are incurable optimists. Nothing is final. Suspended animation is the name of the game with us. As I pen these lines 48 hours later, Ragu, the Action King of our group, confirms he has just paid advance for us to a tourist operator for a three-day bus trip to Coorg. He also alerts us that an overseas trip is on the cards – to Sri Lanka – by July for five nights and six days with 4-star arrangements.