Eves' Eve

It’s funny how objectives, methodologies, results and conclusions emerge and evolve during the course of 3-hour outing.

That was a Sunday and I was least inclined to get out of the house when my friend and co-dweller invited me to accompany her to buy rice from her favourite store in the town. I felt it was my moral duty to help her meet a primary need. She lured me by offering to go to a nearby temple as well and anyway, as she said I’d just have to sit behind her on her 2-wheeler.

As the evening approached, she modified her plan expressing the desire to go to the beach and see the sunset and then proceed to the temple. The sea always attracts me, but since a trip to the beach implies a package deal for me with peanuts, candy, popcorn, sand, saltwater and smell of dried fish, I was not game for going to the temple after the beach. So plan is modified- temple out, beach in. Anyway, we had gone that temple a few days back and beach has been on the agenda for quite some days. She added that since we are anyway going to town, she’d buy me the ice-cream she had promised me ages back. So objectives of the trip has now become-beach, rice, ice-cream.

 

Since we got a little late starting from home, she had to drive really fast so as to not miss the sunset. We were literally racing against the sun. This time it was as if time and tide waited for us and we could enjoy the sunset at low tide. 30 minutes and a sugar candy later, we left the beach. That was when she suggested that we could go to Big Bazaar chaat stall and have some bhelpuri or sevpuri. I was more than ready for this as she assured me that this wouldn’t affect her rice shopping as that could be done on the way back, and we don’t know when will be the next time when we come this side of the town. In any case how long would it take to have a paanipuri after all?

From the moment we entered the Big Bazaar, my eyes were on the chaat stall, but her eyes had strayed upwards where on the first floor she spotted the toys’ section with an array of soft toys. Her decision was quick: “ I am buying a teddy bear”.

“For whom?”- I asked.

“For myself. I’ve always wanted a teddy, but never had one.”

Hmm…talk of new objectives evolving!!

Since the chaat stall was overcrowded, we decided to check out the new products in the utensils/toiletries section and ended up buying some totally useless items like toilet soap, rice remaining long-forgotten. After silencing our growling tummies at chaatwaalah, up we went to the toys’ section.

The salesman in that section would be more than familiar with the tantrums of the kids while buying toys; their indecisiveness and stubbornness. But little must he have been prepared for the fuss we adults made in choosing a teddy. There were several choices to be made with several parameters playing:

1.     Species- do you need a bear, panda, rabbit, monkey, dog, frog, goat, elephant, catterpillar or crocodile (imagine hugging a crocodile to sleep….ugh!!!)

2.     Colour-black, white, brown, green(agh…), pink (cho chweet!!), blue (cool) and so on. Familiar arguments like “white is nice but gets dirty fast” ensued.

3.     Size- small, medium, large, very large etc.

4.     Features- shape of nose, location of eyes, length of tail etc.

5.     Texture- shouldn’t be too soft, neither too hard….and of course

6.     Price

Several permutations and combinations of these parameters were examined. Each toy was held, smelled, hugged, caressed and tossed to assess its quality. With 2 of us involved, the confusion doubled. Actually, I didn’t have any strong views as she was buying it; all I was concerned about was the size as I knew I would be the one sitting behind the bike holding it.

Another 45 minutes passed (rice still forgotten), trying out all the 200 toys displayed. 5 kids had come, made their choices and gone, while we ‘aunties’ were still hugging each animal to get ‘the feel’. As stuffed toys were on 25% discount that day, she was determined to take one home.

Finally a decision was made in favour of a 2-feet tall brown teddy bear. It was carried to the cash counter like a VIP amidst other trivial items like soap. When the cashier did not give us the announced discount, a new drama followed with specialists and super specialists in teddy and discounts being summoned. They repeatedly manoeuvred the bar code reader into our teddy’s bottom (I felt like suing them for sexual harassment), and performed some magic on the PC and barcode reader before finally granting the discount.

Soon, we were heading to our next destination, the ice-cream parlour, me sitting behind her hugging the teddy, the size of a 2-year old kid. Needless to say, as we sped, we got second glances from many.

On reaching there, we seated the teddy comfortably on a couch, got our ice-creams and joined him on the couch on either sides smiling to ourselves while the onlookers were presumably laughing at us silently.

It was only when we were leaving the ice-cream parlour that we remembered the original purpose of our coming to town.3 of us next went to the special provision store only to discover that it was closed for the day. Since she had to buy a few more articles, we decided to try another supermarket close by and soon we were searching the racks there, the teddy on her hip (she carries it whenever she is not driving). Here again people were giving us special smiles- some amused and some sympathetic. Having got some of the items, but not her special brand of rice, we proceeded to the billing section where billing and paying was fast, but the cashier took a lot of time giving us the change as he was busy caressing our teddy.

Time to head back home. At our building we found at least 6 people outside which is unusual at that hour. Some cosmic power must be playing to make sure that our embarrassment is by no means left incomplete. While the adults greeted us with strange looks, a little boy came running to us to welcome the new inmate of the building.

Hitting home, we realised that we had planned the evening for rice and temple and are back after an eventful evening with neither achieved but much more.

Lost Till Found

Once, when I was a kid, my uncle asked me a supposedly silly question which still keeps my grey cells busy. The question was “Why is it that while searching for some lost/misplaced article, you find it only at the last moment of your search?” I still find the question a very intriguing and thought-provoking one.   

The scenario when someone has lost something is interesting and worth pondering. I would rather call it ‘misplaced’ than ‘lost’, and mind you,  I am talking about petty, temporary disappearing acts of mobiles, keys, wallets, iPods, pen drives, earrings and the likes within the household or any other familiar domain. No sooner is the loss declared than you get to hear some questions, usually the same ones ,from different people, some very meaningless ones like: “where did you leave it?”(if I knew that would I say it is lost?); “did you search properly?” (I don’t even understand what that means); and the worst of all-“how much did it cost?”(are you going to pay for that, and even then, would it solve the problem?). Initially, everyone will be supportive and optimistic assuring that their entry into the search team would cause miracles. But a few minutes later you see the loser continuing the search on his own or sulking in a corner.

A few days back, I happened to be a part of a hunt squad. The venue was my uncle’s (not the one who asked me the question) flat where around 25 people had gathered for his daughter’s engagement. The lost article-the inanimate hero of the story-was a cell phone and the sufferer of the loss-the animate hero- was yet another uncle of mine.  By the way, in case you are wondering, since the phone had got switched off due to low battery one couldn’t locate it by giving a ring.

It was not easy to find a missing phone in a house with 25 people and 50 handsets ( I discovered that the man to phone ratio for a sample of 25 was approximately 1:2), unless one knows where one has put it….but then, it wouldn’t be a lost phone.

The search was even more complicated due to the following facts:   

1. The 2BHK flat is infested with people and their belongings.

2. The item is found missing in the morning of the day of the function when all are running around, at various stages of (un)dressing.

 3. The house is in the messiest possible state.

4. On the previous night, some of the family members were accommodated by a benevolent neighbour in his flat and this uncle was one of them. So the search has to include the neighbour’s flat too.       

Very soon, the usual queries started pouring out. My uncle must have got tired of repeating the colour, model and price of his phone…and of course, he does not remember where he kept it…and that’s why he thinks it is missing. I felt like putting up a notice on the wall and saving him the trouble.

Many of us, considerate souls, embarked on the phone-hunt. Every minute saw new members enrolling in the search party and some taking voluntary retirement. One of my aunts was resourceful enough to find him a reasonably good substitute, only it belonged to a young cousin who was soon crying: “mine is missing too”.         

The search progressed with the morning chores of baths, pooja, dressing up, breakfast, photo session and so on with no actual progress until, of course, the very last moment of the search when it was found. The phone was found by the neighbour in his place where my uncle had slept. He had kept it safe with him knowing someone will come asking for it. Only, he was the ‘last’ person my uncle chose to ask…I wonder why!