"You know we went to so and so's place."
"Oh really? good."
"You will not ask what all we got to know there?"
"No."
"You don't wanna know?"
"Yes, I don't wanna know."
"Don't tell us then nobody tells you anything."
"See if it's that necessary, you would not have asked me. You would have just slapped it into my ears."
"That is different."
"Why is that different?"
"Well, if it's important we have to tell you."
"Then this is not important then. You are asking me, you're not telling me up front."
"Oh okay, later don't tell us we did not tell you then."
"Alright. Like I care."
"Of course you do, which is why you get oh so worked up when we don't tell you things."
"Well, that was then. Now, I don't care."
"We'll see whether you do or do not."
Actually, at one point in time, I did care. I wanted to know all about my relatives just as they happen to know all about me. You see it's so irritating when a pack of mouths and ears knows a fact or two or a rumour or three about you. And it's even more irritating when that pack happens to be a whole bunch of relatives: They are never satisfied with merely knowing. They go a step ahead: They dial your number and ask you for a confirmation.
I remember one such relative asking me, "Is it true you aren't marrying?"
"Yes," I said, "I am not."
"Why?"
'Why? What why?"
"I mean why are you not marrying?"
Well, I wasn't drunk but I was in a fine mood to get rough. So I let the mood conquer my tongue and "Oh that", I heard my tongue saying, "is none of your business."
This relative was quick to react in the manner my mood and my tongue had visualised: The mouth flew open, the hand that held the glass shook ever so lightly, and the face went red, then white and then decided to settle on looking red again.
Well, I left that relative with an "Excuse me" and walked away. I did not know quite what to do, but I knew I had to take a step to counter ones taken by such samples.
My initial reaction was to do just what they do: Collect information about them and go ask them questions. I tried to do that but that's really not me. I hate to even collect information, forget asking for details. Naturally, then I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. My stomach can hardly stomach any titbit unusual. And this questioning behaviour of mine was an unusual dish of oddity and temper. So I threw away the dish, let my stomach rest, and got in touch with my head.
"Think of something," I told it and it told me to just let go.
"Why?"
"Well, just because crabs have claws, you cannot have one."
"These are human beings, not crabs."
"Elizabeth Taylor is a human being too."
"So?"
"She married seven times."
"Eight times."
"Okay okay, she married eight times."
"So?"
"So, just because she married so many times, will you? You just cannot be what you are not you know."
"Fine fine, I get your point."
And I decided to just let go.
"Oh really? good."
"You will not ask what all we got to know there?"
"No."
"You don't wanna know?"
"Yes, I don't wanna know."
"Don't tell us then nobody tells you anything."
"See if it's that necessary, you would not have asked me. You would have just slapped it into my ears."
"That is different."
"Why is that different?"
"Well, if it's important we have to tell you."
"Then this is not important then. You are asking me, you're not telling me up front."
"Oh okay, later don't tell us we did not tell you then."
"Alright. Like I care."
"Of course you do, which is why you get oh so worked up when we don't tell you things."
"Well, that was then. Now, I don't care."
"We'll see whether you do or do not."
Actually, at one point in time, I did care. I wanted to know all about my relatives just as they happen to know all about me. You see it's so irritating when a pack of mouths and ears knows a fact or two or a rumour or three about you. And it's even more irritating when that pack happens to be a whole bunch of relatives: They are never satisfied with merely knowing. They go a step ahead: They dial your number and ask you for a confirmation.
I remember one such relative asking me, "Is it true you aren't marrying?"
"Yes," I said, "I am not."
"Why?"
'Why? What why?"
"I mean why are you not marrying?"
Well, I wasn't drunk but I was in a fine mood to get rough. So I let the mood conquer my tongue and "Oh that", I heard my tongue saying, "is none of your business."
This relative was quick to react in the manner my mood and my tongue had visualised: The mouth flew open, the hand that held the glass shook ever so lightly, and the face went red, then white and then decided to settle on looking red again.
Well, I left that relative with an "Excuse me" and walked away. I did not know quite what to do, but I knew I had to take a step to counter ones taken by such samples.
My initial reaction was to do just what they do: Collect information about them and go ask them questions. I tried to do that but that's really not me. I hate to even collect information, forget asking for details. Naturally, then I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. My stomach can hardly stomach any titbit unusual. And this questioning behaviour of mine was an unusual dish of oddity and temper. So I threw away the dish, let my stomach rest, and got in touch with my head.
"Think of something," I told it and it told me to just let go.
"Why?"
"Well, just because crabs have claws, you cannot have one."
"These are human beings, not crabs."
"Elizabeth Taylor is a human being too."
"So?"
"She married seven times."
"Eight times."
"Okay okay, she married eight times."
"So?"
"So, just because she married so many times, will you? You just cannot be what you are not you know."
"Fine fine, I get your point."
And I decided to just let go.
Comments