FROM MY CATALOG

I am male aged 40 with a rural background. I work for the government of India as an agricultural expert often going into agricultural areas on work. Of course I am now city based with many contacts and experiences. My dad had been an avid diarist and had left me several of his diaries. One condensed example from his diary: (I am avoiding names as the substance alone is significant.)’ A and B were neighbours with a common fence separating their properties. A’s mango tree always dropped its ripe and unripe mangos into B’s garden which B would never hand over. Due to it there was a fight. When A had gone elsewhere B cut down the mango tree. A was furious and assaulted B and B’s wife who sided B. In fact A swore he would kill B. B was meek and finding a farming  job left for Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). A now freely enters B’s garden and collects the mangos.’

At 20 I resolved to maintain a diary, but then being lazy I put whatever I thought interesting in a condensed form periodically. I present here a few randomly chosen episodes from my catalog:

THE WOULD-BE WRITER:

There is a boy I will call Arthur who lives near our house. His parents are well-heeled with considerable investments in real estate and farms. The proud parents keep saying variously about Arthur: “He can paint” “He can draw” “He can use the computer” “He can play the musical instrument, tabla. In fact he gave a performance with his group in Madrid when he had been there.” He was made out to be a polymath.  Arthur had degree in law and when I asked him what he would do in future I expected him to say “Be chief justice of the supreme court of India.” Instead I was shocked when he said “I want to be a writer of books in English. I’m writing a crime novel which is nearly complete and I’m looking for a publisher. Give me your email and I’ll send you publicity matter about the proposed book.” To another question he replied “I’ve told my parents that I would like to marry a woman writer.” I thought since he would have a large inheritance his aim was justified. However I reminded myself about what is said of writing: Books used to be written by men of letters to be read by the public, but now books seem to be written by the public and read by nobody! I thought not his fault! Wisdom dawns slowly.

CHASTITY BELT:

My friend Thomas told me this: My agriculturist neighbour’s daughter has been befriended by the boy delivering milk to their home. ‘Befriend’ is probably not the right word as it seems it had gone further, probably much further! The father said he looking for safety equipment for her! ”Would Amazon be able to supply?” I said I would find out, but knowing the girl I would have thought she needed some barrier layer device or perhaps surgical restoration!

UGLY DUCKLING:

I was told my neighbour‘s daughter Ann had passed her final examination of the medical course with distinction. I congratulated her. Except perhaps for her medical knowledge she lacked colour, looks and generally all what a man looks for in a woman. She adorns herself in gold jewellery and goes about town. I would wonder who would befriend her except those who wanted her wealth. While she was shopping someone pinched her gold chain from her neck. I was told the suspect was an LGBT who was standing in the vicinity of the shop. The police were investing.

PET STORY:

Doris who lives near our house has a dog, no, a female dog called Sissy. It had grown over some years and was now approaching season. The vet suggested to her to consult the Kennel Club to find a suitable mate. Doris said she was a bit busy and would do it as soon as she was free. Doris’s maid used to take Sissy for a walk every day. That day when she was on her way with Sissy, her boyfriend came to speak to her. Apparently there was a quarrel and while handling it the maid let Sissy slip from the leash. When she realised the pet was missing, she ran after it asking people if they had seen the creature. When she finally located Sissy it was too late as she was in the tie. When Doris learnt of it she was furious and immediately dismissed the maid from service. Doris went to the Kennel Club to try and reverse the happening. This episode was narrated to my wife by our cook who had once worked for Doris and had quit her service. I got to know that the cook, a gossipy woman, had narrated the incident, raw, with much mirth! Of course I wasn’t home  as I would’ve surely liked to overhear the cook-say about the occurrence!

THE WOULD-BE PAINTER:

Generally people nowadays seem to be no longer worried about money, salary etc. They seem to be more worried about fulfilment of their dreams. At a party recently I met a family – a father, mother and their daughter Kate. The father was a banker. He said “Though I’ve quit the field of arts we’re descended from a family of sculptors and the artist blood runs in our veins. Kate is a graduate in computer science and was offered a good paying job during campus selection but she has refused it as she has her heart on becoming a portrait painter. Her work shown at an art exhibition was said to match those of the legendary Ravi Verma.” I am no connoisseur of art and I merely listened. I was surprised that the father chose to be a banker and was reminded about the following doggerel about famous painters: Hans Holbein the Elder/Had a model called Grizelda,/Who produced (according to a scandal monger)/Hans Holbein the Younger. Both were famous painters.  I wasn’t sure the blood in the veins alone would do!

 A man X whom I dare not name, came to me for a loan to send his daughter to a job to a Middle-East country. I knew she was very good-looking and talented and X said he would send her to me with details to seek the loan. If only my wife knew......! Luckily for me she is poor in English. I am sure if she knew what all I have written and X’s daughter had come to me, and if I had granted the loan, she would have .... I am leaving it unfinished!  I have abandoned recording my experiences.  As I have said I am 40 and I thought I had a large enough catalog. I plan to reopen the full catalog when I am 60.

END