Meet Bob!

Many months ago, I walked into a store and met Bob and my life has not been the same ever since.  Thanks to Bob, I find myself looking at life these days through a pair of slow-motion spectacles where all frantic movements have trickled down to mere frame-by-frame motion sequences.  

Bob was one of the two sales people in that store that day.  He had a sweet smile and kind eyes so naturally I picked him over the other salesman.  Wearing an answering smile myself, I walked towards Bob and asked to see a few products in the store.  What followed was the longest 2 hours of my life.

It is important to mention here that I dragged my kids in to that store with me after assuring them that I will get them both an ice cream cone as soon as we got out of there.  ‘Just a few minutes’ I promised my kids.  I didn’t know that Fate was holding its jiggling tummy and laughing at me right at that moment.

Watching Bob go to work was a revelation.  I learned that Bob did not believe in rushing things.  Have you ever watched words take a slow tumble out of someone’s mouth, letter by letter?  I did.  I almost cupped my hands in front of his mouth at one point to catch those precious words but luckily caught myself in time. 

Our conversation mirrored a chess game between a chess master and an amateur.  My mouth opened, hurled out the words and shut itself while Bob had to think deep and hard before he would allow a word to form in his mind.  I felt tears of joy burning at the back of my eyes every time we were treated to a full sentence.  My daughters had to pinch my sides to keep those tears under check.  It has been many months now but the fading pinch marks in my side still brings dear Bob to my mind.

In my heart, I know Bob meant to show us the products before Sun went down the horizon that day.  I have to believe that.  He had no meanness in him, you see but seconds stretched to an hour as Bob walked between the stock room and the sales desk.  He had such gentle movements.  It was like watching a swan gracefully sway through the room.  The carpet heaved a sigh of relief beneath his shoes each time Bob glided over its surface.  Why, you ask?  He left not a single shoe mark, that’s why.

After the 8^th trip back from the stock room, Bob seemed a bit tired.  Sure, who won’t?  I wished the other salesman would bring Bob a glass of water to drink.  After all, he hadn’t moved an inch in the last hour.  Standing in the same place and chatting easily with the 10 or more customers I had seen come in to the store in that hour.  It just didn’t seem fair.  Sure, he sold stuff to those 10 people, but hah, big deal!  .

Glaring at his colleague for his lack of compassion, I suggested to Bob that he take a break to rest his legs for a while before resuming his 9^th trip trying to bring us the product we actually wanted and not the ones that he could find.  He looked at me with such gratitude. 

As the clock ticked by and crossed 90 minutes, Bob managed to walk out at last holding what I was looking for.  If it weren’t for my creaking knees, I would have leapt over the sales desk and kissed him in sheer happiness.  Instead I broke out the 10,000 watts smile that I usually save up just for my husband.  Waking up from their naps in the corner sofa, my kids were now looking hopefully at me.  I smiled at them reassuringly and whipped out my wallet to close the sale and be on my way out.  Not so fast, said Bob. 

Apparently computers puzzled Bob.    It was really sweet the way he looked at the tip of his pointer finger carefully each time he used it to push in a key on the keyboard.  After each push, he would gently lift his eyes to the screen and smile as he saw his hard work translated on the screen.  The whole thing was nothing short of a well-choreographed waltz.  There was a rhythm and a beauty to it.  He was gentle with those keys. Every now and then, the fingers will hang suspended in air while he would look confused at the computer screen.  Fearing the wrath of my daughters who were drilling holes in my back, I decided to step in and move things along.  Gently, I scooted over to the other side, peeked at the computer and walked Bob through the steps of running my credit card and closing the sale.  The sheer joy on his face at the end was well worth the wait, I thought.  My daughters somehow didn’t think so. 

Aren’t you happy you met Bob today? :-)

got tissues?

It is seriously starting to embarrass me.   Just this week alone, it has happened about half a dozen times.  I weep for the weirdest reasons these days. 

I am afraid to go to concerts anymore.  Poor musicians!  After enduring hours of practice, there they are on the stage pouring their hearts out expecting to enthrall their audience and what do I do?  Clap in appreciation like everyone else around me?  Oh no, I don’t.  I sob hard into my ‘dry-clean only’ saree!  At the last concert, the lady next to me took one look at my bawling face and gingerly scooted her chair as far away from me as possible.  Really, who can blame her?  

3 days ago, I had an urge to read ‘Thiruvasagam’ at 5 am in the morning and with an iPad next to my bed table and Lord Googleswara at my fingertips, what is to stop me?  There I was leaning back comfortably on a couple of pillows fluffed up for my morning reading and into the first 10 verses of Sivapuranam, sure enough my eyes started to leak.  My husband woke up in confused concern when I greeted him not with a ‘Good morning Sankar’ like any normal wife but with a weepy ‘Thiruchitrambalam Sankar’.  Poor guy!  His life with me seems to be one endless soap opera.

All this crying is exhausting.  I had to recently switch handbags just to accommodate a bigger Kleenex box.  I run through tissues like there is no tomorrow.  It is bad enough that I bawl in public but to do so without the assistance of a tissue box?  The idea does not bear thinking.  If it weren’t for Costco and its value-priced tissue boxes, I might have been forced to take a second job to dry clean my clothes each week.  I guess it is true what they say about God opening one door when another closes.  Yes, it is true that He gave me a faulty eye faucet but He also gave me tissues to deal with it.  His compassion chokes me right up. 

The saga continued yesterday in my music class.  Two teenage boys were in my classroom doing an exceptional job singing a composition in Hamsanandi ragam.  I closed my eyes in appreciation and seconds later, the tell-tale signs of a brewing Tsunami made themselves known – my lips were trembling, nostrils were flaring and from behind the closed eyelids, tears started to peep out.  All in front of two boys with budding mustaches!  Talk about embarrassment!  It took all my willpower to suck it in and blink it away.  Poor, poor kids!   It is such a tender age to be traumatized this way.  A boy should have the right to sing in front of his teacher and not have her wail and whimper all over him.  And which parent will want to pay for trauma therapy in addition to music lessons?

Either I am getting old or it is payback time for all these years of teasing my Dad for crying alongside the poor women of Tamil TV drama, not to mention, crying in patriotism at the achievements of Indians in the world of Science, Philosophy, Sports and Technology.  My gut feeling says it is the latter.  The only difference is my Dad sobs in to his somewhat-white-looking cotton towel and I sob into my 20^th century pristine white disposable tissues.  Life does come full circle. 

And so, it begins again! 

Till next time, Thiruchitrambalam, my friends! :)

Loo loo, skip to the loo....

It has been one of those roller coaster weeks that make absolutely no sense. Yesterday, I felt the need to ponder on the complexity of the human mind that can delve so deeply into non-existent problems that it can crush the soul with the weight of the world.  Today, I woke up to wonder on the meaning of a nursery rhyme that defies all logic.

Loo loo, skip to the loo
Loo loo, skip to the loo
Loo loo, skip to the loo
Skip to the loo, my darling

Why, oh why would anyone skip to the loo in the first place?  Skipping, in my mind, constitutes an act of youthful energy that expresses sheer happiness.  A child may skip to the park after school to play with friends or to a Carnival anticipating cotton candy and Ferris wheel rides.  What, my feverish mind wonders today, would prompt a child to bounce and skip to the loo?  If you ever catch a child doing that, be sure to take the Mom aside to talk about the importance of fiber in her family's diet.

Fly's in the buttermilk, shoo fly shoo
Fly's in the buttermilk shoo fly shoo
Fly's in the buttermilk, shoo fly shoo
Skip to the loo, my darling

Hmmmm.......I am not quite sure how to interpret this really.   If my kid finds a fly in her cup of buttermilk I will probably tell her to remove it and drink it up or dump the glass and pour another one but that is just me.  There is a Mother somewhere out there that advises her child to happily (otherwise why skip?) take refuge in the loo to tackle this problem?  Running away never solves any problem, doesn't she know? You can hide in the loo for as long as you want, but when you get out, the fly is still there floating belly up, right?  Like I said, the entire thing defies logic.

Lost my partner, what'll I do
Lost my partner, what'll I do
Lost my partner, what'll I do
Skip to the loo, my darling

That is tragic, I agree. Losing a partner can be crippling, I am given to understand. And the loss may induce gastrointestinal turbulence for sure but we are not talking about grown ups, are we?  What kind of a partner skipped out on the child - spelling bee partner?,  crayon bee partner?  or  ballet dance partner?  Explain to me how skipping to the loo helps them deal with this loss.

Come on folks, lets get serious here.  Do we really want to condone defeatism so blatantly?  Should our children grow up believing that running and hiding is the answer to all the problems facing this world?  Imagine that one of these kids gets elected as President of the United States in the future.  And there he is sitting in on a routine meeting with his senior staff in the Oval office at 7 AM one morning only to be interrupted by the Defense Secretary bearing news that North Korea is threatening to fire its nuclear weapons just for the heck of it.   Are we going to sit back and watch our President skip to the Loo on TV?   What if he decides to stay there until the crisis passes humanity?  You may think it is just a catchy rhyme now but heed my warning.  This could have serious ramifications to the future of this world.

Oh but hold it!  Before you jump off the cliff in to an abyss of despair, catch this last verse.  It might just bring salvation for the poet of this verse after all.

I'll get another one just like you
I'll get another one just like you
I'll get another one just like you
Skip to the loo, my darling

Now, that's the spirit!  'Life goes on so embrace the challenges with a happy face' is what it says and what a great lesson for all.  Learning that no one is indispensable can be an invaluable lesson in humility.  I believe that teaching our kids that when you step off the train, someone always boards to take your place is as important a lesson as Algebra and Trigonometry.

On that philosophical note, I thank you for reading this post which barely skirts the edges of sanity to the end and will suggest that you always take my words with a pinch of salt. :-)

Now all I have to do is learn to skip without pulling a muscle.  Skip to the loo, my friends and you shall find answers to all your problems in there.  Good luck and a belated Happy New Year to all!