Caught in a Knot
He was a distant relative from my wife's side, and I found him extremely boring. But in his own estimation he seemed to believe that he carried the entire wisdom of the universe and that it was his duty to share that wisdom with whoever he chanced to meet. He spoke about politics, about education, about artificial intelligence, and about the changing social norms.
The problem with such extremely intelligent and knowledgeable people is that they are perpetually disgruntled. Given an opportunity, they would like to demolish the universe and recreate it to their design. If you asked them what the Prime Minister should do in a specific situation, they would not be able to tell, but they know what the Prime Minister should NOT do.
I desperately wanted to get out of the lecture-session being conducted by my distant relative. So, I said, "I have a severe headache since morning. I think I should go and take rest for some time."
"May be your spectacles need a change of number?" he said with the tone of being helpful.
"I don't use spects," I said and hoped that this would resolve the issue, but it turned out that the man was an opthalmologist. He almost jumped half a foot and said with drag in his voice, "Now that exactly is the problem! If at your age you don't use spects, then you are subjecting your eyes to slow suicide!"
My wife, whose distant relative he was, now took up cudgels to settle an old grievance. "Bhai Saheb, I have been telling him for three decades now, but he doesn't listen. He sits with his laptop at seven in the morning and keeps looking straight into the screen till twelve at night."
"Oh my God!" said the Bhai Saheb with the tone of Eureka, "Have you seen how popcorn is prepared? Till a certain moment it is a grain and then PLOP and the grain turns into the popcorn. This is what happens with the eyes. They seem absolutely normal till you go to bed at night, and then you get up in the morning and see that they have burst like the small crackers children use at Deepawali. It is dangerous --- too dangerous."
A headache that did not exist till now began to gradually spread through the cranium. I felt timid like a goat standing for an inquisition in front of a lion and a tiger and found guilty of misbehaviour.
"I take aamle ka murabba and that keeps my eyes good," I mustered defence.
"This is the problem with our country!" thundered the opthalmologist. "This country is not run by the Prime Minister but by Baba Ram Dev who wants to take the nation back to two thousand years ago. Do you know how much sugar is used in your so-called murabba? It is these murabbas that are making India the diabetes capital of the world." Saying this, he wiped the sweat on his face.
I persisted in my defence and said, "But I produce my own murabba. I don't use sugar at all."
"That is even worse! That takes you back by another two hundred years, when people in Keezhadi used to prepare murabba in their cottages for their own use. At least Baba Ram Dev uses some machines."
My mobile phone rang. Someone at the other end said, "We are the best pest-control company in Chennai." I took the opportunity and said, "Oh my God! I am coming." Then with feigned nervousness I looked at my wife and said, "A close friend of mine has had a heart attack. I will have to go."
Before my wife could respond I was in the lift and on my way to a friend's house for a cup of tea and lunch.
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