"Maniaa"
"Maniaaa"
"Maniaaaaaaaa
Piercing the early morning fog,a cry rising in pitch and amplitude , emanated from the window. reaching a crescendo, and threatening to drown the drone of the water-pump.
A door on the outer periphery of the courtyard opened with a bang, the small chain latch continuing to dangle and clang noisily long after, and a short , squat figure shot out across, bare chested, hastily tying a knot on his lungi, almost tripping on the doormat, as he entered .
This happened everyday.
We would gleefully snort at his discomfiture, like little devils that we were.He was a laughing stock for various reasons. One of them was his overwhelming vanity, at his good looks; second his pathetic education and english , in that order.
It is not mania as in madness(english), it is just an irreverent tag of the syllable "aa" to what was , actually a beautiful name-mani(jewel).It belonged to a much mocked relative. An uncle of sorts.Actually, he was the second son of my grandmother's youngest brother,"Laal-Dadu'.
Being a poor and ill-educated relative, Mani ka was taken under my grandmother's wings to secure some form of "living". As he was younger, he was called' mania ' by my grandmother. Seizing the opportunity, we quickly set matters straight by calling him 'mania', behind his back , and out of my grandmother's earshot.
He called himself "Gulaab-khaas" ; a moniker invented by himself , for himself. A silly name, meaning "a special rose".To us , he seemed neither , but a fool and a caricature. He was finally employed at a prehistoric family welfare clinic, as a compounder. A compounder was a nomenclature meant for a doctor's assistant( person who' compounded medicine -or pounded various mixtures-during the pre historic times), the name and position continuing till date, in accordance to all things old that perpetuate in our country, due to sheer inertia.
Amazingly, he managed to make a decent enough living out of the archaically named job. He belonged in a formalin jar. Or in a museum, lined up with dusty boulders of coal or granite, with fragments of fossilized fern sticking out of his ears .He was something straight out of a pre-british census book.
He could barely write his name, but took great care to groom himself, was against education of all types,(that is, didn't have much regard for the educated types) Considered women as inferior beings, and himself married a nubile 17 year old daughter of an impoverished farmer, who was dazzled by the mere sound of his 'sarkari naukri'.
He was known to gift people flowers(phool) when having been made an' April Fool'.When being sent to fetch us from school, some pet phrases like ,'good morning', how are you?''where is ....'would be taught to him hastily , by my grampa,to avoid tight situations. He would still manage to make a perfect fool of himself (I am sure he spoke all the wrong sentences, in the wrong order),and stand grinning like a baboon , while we were summoned. Sister superior would be red in the face , with suppressed laughter, and we looked away, beetroot red with embarrassment.
At that point, I wished I could say that I didn't know this man. Man, did we blow it up when we reached home!!
Now, in retrospect, we realize, he was just trying to help, and obeying orders. Nothing more.
"Maniaaa"
"Maniaaaaaaaa
Piercing the early morning fog,a cry rising in pitch and amplitude , emanated from the window. reaching a crescendo, and threatening to drown the drone of the water-pump.
A door on the outer periphery of the courtyard opened with a bang, the small chain latch continuing to dangle and clang noisily long after, and a short , squat figure shot out across, bare chested, hastily tying a knot on his lungi, almost tripping on the doormat, as he entered .
This happened everyday.
We would gleefully snort at his discomfiture, like little devils that we were.He was a laughing stock for various reasons. One of them was his overwhelming vanity, at his good looks; second his pathetic education and english , in that order.
It is not mania as in madness(english), it is just an irreverent tag of the syllable "aa" to what was , actually a beautiful name-mani(jewel).It belonged to a much mocked relative. An uncle of sorts.Actually, he was the second son of my grandmother's youngest brother,"Laal-Dadu'.
Being a poor and ill-educated relative, Mani ka was taken under my grandmother's wings to secure some form of "living". As he was younger, he was called' mania ' by my grandmother. Seizing the opportunity, we quickly set matters straight by calling him 'mania', behind his back , and out of my grandmother's earshot.
He called himself "Gulaab-khaas" ; a moniker invented by himself , for himself. A silly name, meaning "a special rose".To us , he seemed neither , but a fool and a caricature. He was finally employed at a prehistoric family welfare clinic, as a compounder. A compounder was a nomenclature meant for a doctor's assistant( person who' compounded medicine -or pounded various mixtures-during the pre historic times), the name and position continuing till date, in accordance to all things old that perpetuate in our country, due to sheer inertia.
Amazingly, he managed to make a decent enough living out of the archaically named job. He belonged in a formalin jar. Or in a museum, lined up with dusty boulders of coal or granite, with fragments of fossilized fern sticking out of his ears .He was something straight out of a pre-british census book.
He could barely write his name, but took great care to groom himself, was against education of all types,(that is, didn't have much regard for the educated types) Considered women as inferior beings, and himself married a nubile 17 year old daughter of an impoverished farmer, who was dazzled by the mere sound of his 'sarkari naukri'.
He was known to gift people flowers(phool) when having been made an' April Fool'.When being sent to fetch us from school, some pet phrases like ,'good morning', how are you?''where is ....'would be taught to him hastily , by my grampa,to avoid tight situations. He would still manage to make a perfect fool of himself (I am sure he spoke all the wrong sentences, in the wrong order),and stand grinning like a baboon , while we were summoned. Sister superior would be red in the face , with suppressed laughter, and we looked away, beetroot red with embarrassment.
At that point, I wished I could say that I didn't know this man. Man, did we blow it up when we reached home!!
Now, in retrospect, we realize, he was just trying to help, and obeying orders. Nothing more.
dead men tell no tales...............just incoherent memories.............a being...flowered and wilted ........passed......jolly, stupid, helpful........but he happened!..........we all will
ReplyDelete