My foot has this uncanny proclivity to get into my mouth whenever I am at a social event. That’s why I took much effort to teach my feet to walk away from social events altogether. Some heels were born to cool themselves in the cosiness of solipsism (or should I say sole-ipsism?).
|Source: Clarity Solutions|
I have kept me to myself for nearly two decades now. Like Ogden Nash’s Born Spectator, I stay far away from the field of action and watch with admiration socialites performing various acrobatics in order to win their much deserved accolades. When it comes to the battle between the ego and prudence, the latter wins hands down in my case.
A few years ago, when I was in Delhi, a blogger from Indiblogger connection, a lady who wasn’t very active as a blogger, organised a bloggers’ meet in Delhi and sent me a personal invitation. I was rather surprised because never in my blog anywhere at any time had I shown any interest in such meetings. But I decided to conceal my surprise as well as keep my foot away from my mouth. I gave her the excuse of a prior engagement. Within 24 hours, the good lady changed the date of the meeting and offered to hold it any day that was convenient for me. I knew something was seriously wrong.
One of the blights I had to fight again and again in my life, without much success, is keeping benefactors away from my doorstep. They came in hoards especially when I lived in Shillong, a small town with all the inconveniences of a village with none of its benefits. Most of them benefactors were keen on making me religious. The more they tried, the more I hated religion. Eventually I quit the countryside benefactors of Shillong and found my shelter in the anonymity of Delhi’s vastness. When a blogger who never even commented once in my space insisted on having me at a bloggers’ meet, I knew that benefactors were at it again.
I now live in a small village in Kerala. Mercifully the benefactors have left me alone until now. It’s not easy to play the benefactor-game in too small a village where people know each other too well. Too many games will reveal the identity of the godfather who pays the benefactors. The village thus keeps me safely away from benefactors.
Probably, I wouldn’t have detested the society if it were not for the benefactors and their godfather. I have seen a lot of people who are comfortable with both their feet in their mouth. Maybe, it’s not my foot that is the real problem. Maybe, I’m bored with the benefactors who never revealed any trace of imagination.
PS. Written for Indispire Edition 176: #CityEvent