And I thought I was stupid. But look at Velu, our neighbourhood courier boy. He got his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his forearm (at the rate of Rs 5 per letter). Forget that her name is Rajarajeshwari; forget that the guy was oozing pus and screaming in agony after all that piercing with unclean needles; crowning all this pain was that the girl dumped him recently, leaving a telltale green memory on his arm, which neither Apsara nor Arnold Schwarzenegger can erase.
“That is why you should not venture to wear your heart on your sleeve,” I quoted in my “I-told-you-so” speech to him even while offering some full-arm shirts, which he may wear while trying other prospects in the
future. I told him he could either look for girls with the same name or change the girls’ name to Rajarajeswari before rolling up his sleeves to display his heart. He is one boy whose heart is not in the right place, eh?
And I thought I was unlucky. But look at my friend Ramesh. He came all the way from Massachusetts (USA) to get married. Poor boy had not rolled a single “r” with his new American tongue to impress his in-laws, than he got conjunctivitis. What stung him more than the infection was the fact that Madras had become Chennai in his absence and he had lost his golden chance to repeatedly roll his ‘r’ to say Madzhas-eye to well-wishers.
To simplify matters, I asked him to stress just the last syllable of Chennai and say Chenneye instead of the longish conjunctivitis. He bade me sit in the corner and count the number of ‘s’es in Massachusetts.
“With your double-verging-on-triple chin and red eyes, you can give Captain Vijaykanth a run for his money.” I said brightly. His red eyes deepened to magenta in anger.
He sat in stinging smoke, weeping through his entire wedding. However, as proof that their nuptials went off smoothly, both bride and groom had red eyes the following morning. At the reception, the couple looked
resplendent in red finery and red garlands with matching eyes. To complete the pretty picture, I offered some very red sherbet in tall transparent glasses to the newly redded, I mean, wedded couple.
And I thought I had the best henpecked husband there is. But look at Seshadri, my cousin’s husband. He was doing something as domestic as plucking flowers in his garden. His wife and children were away placating Lord Saturn at Thirunallar. Among her thousand-and-odd
instructions, Seshadri’s wife had explicitly told him to always lock all windows and shut the gas before leaving the house. While he was halfway through filling the flower basket, Seshadri felt a never-felt-before sting on his foot through his slipper. He peered down to see a four-foot long snake at his feet with its fangs deeply embedded in the slipper. The more the snake tried to break free the more its fang dug deeper into Seshadri’s foot. With no one to turn to, Seshadri dragged himself out of the garden with the snake in tow. If you thought he went straight to the hospital, you are wrong. He first locked all the windows, then went into the kitchen to turn off the gas and then locked the front door before hailing an auto for himself and the snake. The man survived miraculously. Moral of the story is — to be truly brave, be truly scared of your wife.
And I thought I had problems in life. But look at Chinnamma. Her father got her married at a young age to her own maternal uncle. The uncle, as it went, turned out to be a womaniser. Every other day, he brought home a different woman and made Chinnamma cook and clean for everyone. The distraught father felt so wretched about his daughter’s life that he committed suicide. That left Chinnamma’s husband so guilty that he castrated himself and died bleeding. Chinnamma single, laughing and eccentric now comes and goes working at households like ours. Strange how all the men in her life had no balls.
And I thought I had no sense of humour. But look at the Americans. They have sat down George Bush, the greatest standup comedian of all times. They truly “misunderestimated” the only President who could say something like this — “We’ve got a lot of relations with countries in our neighborhood.”
And I thought I had nothing worthwhile to do. But look at you, reading my column.