My Good Morning
When I was still at school I had come across a saying from papers, probably from some ad: "Little gestures make much difference". Indeed, they do.
I will assume, without probing into the statistics, that you have read stories the likes of stories by O' Henry. If you have not, read 'em sometime. I will also assume, again without your consent, that you have watched movies, particularly those from Hollywood; the movies that belong to 'Romance' genre. Now the word romance tempts me to diverge from the story I want to write and instead write about the origins and philosophy of the word "romance", 'cause it is oft' misunderstood. But I shall hold my reins more firmly this time.
I am talking about stories and movies where two strangers meet in a cheap restaurant or on the bar table.
"howz the movie?"
"beg yo parduh?"
"the movie. Did you like it?"
"How... did you know?..", picking up her bag, ready to leave.
"Its alright. You are fiddling with the ticket."
She glances into her hand, sees the ticket, looks up and gives an awkward smile.
"Sorry! I thought you were stalking me or something"
"Coffee?"
"Yea. Sure. Irish"
He calls for the waiter.
"Did you want anything more, sir?"
"Oh. No. But can you get an Irish Coffee for this lady here, please?"
"Of course, sir"
The waiter walks away. They look at each other and smile.
"The movie was good. Better than my expectations"
"Is not it? I liked the truck toppling scene, the best"
"Now how did you know which movie I was watching?"
"There is only one playing now, that can be better than your expectations"
She smiles. Pleasantly this time.
"You a detective or somethin' ?"
"Ha! I wish. I am just a jobless physics professor"
She laughs. Her drink and his food arrive. They talk a little more about the movie.When its about time they part,
"Rachael", she shakes his hand, "I live a couple of blocks from here"
The professor nods his head, "Ethan. I live on a website. The xyz univ ". They laugh and part.
I am not a critique or a stereo-typist or a psychologist or anything, but a typical chance meeting in old classy short stories, when poorly imitated would be something like this:
An orange summer evening it is and M. Alphonse was seated in the orange tainted bench. M. Alphonse took a walk, at 6:45pm precisely, everyday. Even on the day the clock in the Clock Tower stopped ticking, M. Alphonse did not miss his beat. He now sat in his bench under the shade of the large trees with their orange tanned leaves. The river on the banks of which the park rose, is the only contrasting patch of blue among the brown of tree barks and the orange of dried leaves strewn all over. He watched kids playing ball. Some kids were running behind the dogs. Some kids were being chased by their nurses. He watched all that he watches every other day. What he failed to notice, though, was the woman walking down to the same bench he was seated on. If it were not for the perfume she was wearing he would never have felt her presence. But the perfume had already done its part. Curiosity took its birth. He looked to his side and glanced at the fair lady in a bonnet and a pink generous skirt.
"n'est-ce pas une bonne soirée", the girl said, staring at the children playing.
"en fait, il est", Alphonse agreed.
Since the rest of the conversation continued in French, I won't take the trouble of narrating a story trying to make it look like Porter's. I will just state that they talked a while and in parting each wished good night to the other.
So what if you have seen such movies or read such tales, you ask? Well, if you have, did you ever wonder why such a thing almost never happens in your real life. Strangers no longer meet in restaurants and parks. They never meet. Now one might argue that they do occasionally meet in Orkut and Facebook and other such virtual parks. But I am still a creature of the ancient age and the world wide web, despite my own share of marvel, utility and interest in it, is not one where I would like to meet my date.
I must be a queer one to say "Man is a social animal". Well, at least you will find many essays and articles which assert that man is a social animal. But today, I would consider that as a blasphemy. For two reasons; for one, man is not an animal, not any longer and secondly, man is not social. Well, thats my opinion anyway. You may argue otherwise, protesting that you party with your friends every week end, go to the cinema with your gang, eat out with your colleagues. Then let me ask you, how many strangers have you greeted in a mall or a park or a club or a restaurant? You don't greet. You don't expect to be greeted. You don't want to be greeted. If by some miscalculated chance, some body does greet you, you look at him suspiciously, throw him such icy piercing looks, he will draw a wall around himself. There ends his society. There dies another social animal.
I, however, did not entirely miss a few romantic encounters. The first of them took place in my city of dreams. Bombay? Oh no. No no. Madras. That was the city where dream like events took place in my life. I was asked once, on the occasion of finishing five years in Bombay, which coincided with my graduation, what my most memorable event in Bombay was. I sat trying to think about it the rest of my lunch. But all I could think about was my internship in IMSc, Chennai. It was there, one fine sunny morning, that I had my first surprise of my life. I was sitting in the cafeteria, digging into my breakfast and reading the newspaper. Washing down my breakfast with coffee, I looked up to see two Christian ladies walking into the cafeteria. One walked behind the other, their steps brisk. Just as I was about to return to my newspaper, the lady in the front gave a nod and mouthed "Good morning"! I was surprised. Almost stunned and paralysed. But my instinct took over. I nodded in return and wished her good morning. My eyes then moved over to the lady walking behind. She nodded in time and smiled, "Good morning". I returned her smile and said, "Good morning". They had a word with the cook and then nodding again to me, made their way out of the cafeteria, leaving me in doubt. I doubted my convictions about human nature the first time then. A moment later I relapsed, shook myself off of the doubts. Those two were not humans, I told myself. But the truth, I think, is that it left a strong permanent mark on me.
It was also during this time in the same city of Madras that I made my acquaintances with a certain tall, heavy, black PhD student, with his hair in a pony-tail. It is an acquaintance that I cherish and always remind myself of when in despair. He made me realise the true strength of a human. Yes, I am talking about a human. If there is anything that the humans can own that is worth some pride (or shame to some), it is his/her immeasurable capacity to endure. It was also thanks to his acquaintance that I met the girl with big black eyes who is good at math.
So that was the first of the few romantic encounters. The last of them happened today.
I woke up lazy. Flipped through the newspapers. I thanked my angels, for it was not raining this morning, though it was not very dry either. I walked the familiar road to my office. Almost there, I got a message from my elder cousin:
"What's the actual meaning of Morning?
Morning = 'one more inning' given by 'God' to play!
Don't let him down. Make Best of it!
Good Morning!"
It was a little overwhelming, but it was pleasant; I replied, "Good morning to you too" and resumed walking.
A little ahead, some one jogging in the street called out to somebody else, "GOOD MORNING". I remembered the Chennai incident. I smiled. I nodded and whispered morning to myself. Then I turned around the corner to see a great dane walking towards me beside its master. As we got closer, it walked more towards me a little and nodded its head. I replied him with a nod. But I was pleasantly surprised to see a tiny pomerenian, walking proudly behind the great dane, also come closer to me, look me in the eye, lick its nose and nod its head twice.
'Yes. Morning to you too', I said gently.
Human or otherwise, it has been quite a long time since I received a greeting from a stranger.
Well, thus endeth my latest romantic encounter and my very very Good Morning.
Jade
I will assume, without probing into the statistics, that you have read stories the likes of stories by O' Henry. If you have not, read 'em sometime. I will also assume, again without your consent, that you have watched movies, particularly those from Hollywood; the movies that belong to 'Romance' genre. Now the word romance tempts me to diverge from the story I want to write and instead write about the origins and philosophy of the word "romance", 'cause it is oft' misunderstood. But I shall hold my reins more firmly this time.
I am talking about stories and movies where two strangers meet in a cheap restaurant or on the bar table.
"howz the movie?"
"beg yo parduh?"
"the movie. Did you like it?"
"How... did you know?..", picking up her bag, ready to leave.
"Its alright. You are fiddling with the ticket."
She glances into her hand, sees the ticket, looks up and gives an awkward smile.
"Sorry! I thought you were stalking me or something"
"Coffee?"
"Yea. Sure. Irish"
He calls for the waiter.
"Did you want anything more, sir?"
"Oh. No. But can you get an Irish Coffee for this lady here, please?"
"Of course, sir"
The waiter walks away. They look at each other and smile.
"The movie was good. Better than my expectations"
"Is not it? I liked the truck toppling scene, the best"
"Now how did you know which movie I was watching?"
"There is only one playing now, that can be better than your expectations"
She smiles. Pleasantly this time.
"You a detective or somethin' ?"
"Ha! I wish. I am just a jobless physics professor"
She laughs. Her drink and his food arrive. They talk a little more about the movie.When its about time they part,
"Rachael", she shakes his hand, "I live a couple of blocks from here"
The professor nods his head, "Ethan. I live on a website. The xyz univ ". They laugh and part.
I am not a critique or a stereo-typist or a psychologist or anything, but a typical chance meeting in old classy short stories, when poorly imitated would be something like this:
An orange summer evening it is and M. Alphonse was seated in the orange tainted bench. M. Alphonse took a walk, at 6:45pm precisely, everyday. Even on the day the clock in the Clock Tower stopped ticking, M. Alphonse did not miss his beat. He now sat in his bench under the shade of the large trees with their orange tanned leaves. The river on the banks of which the park rose, is the only contrasting patch of blue among the brown of tree barks and the orange of dried leaves strewn all over. He watched kids playing ball. Some kids were running behind the dogs. Some kids were being chased by their nurses. He watched all that he watches every other day. What he failed to notice, though, was the woman walking down to the same bench he was seated on. If it were not for the perfume she was wearing he would never have felt her presence. But the perfume had already done its part. Curiosity took its birth. He looked to his side and glanced at the fair lady in a bonnet and a pink generous skirt.
"n'est-ce pas une bonne soirée", the girl said, staring at the children playing.
"en fait, il est", Alphonse agreed.
Since the rest of the conversation continued in French, I won't take the trouble of narrating a story trying to make it look like Porter's. I will just state that they talked a while and in parting each wished good night to the other.
So what if you have seen such movies or read such tales, you ask? Well, if you have, did you ever wonder why such a thing almost never happens in your real life. Strangers no longer meet in restaurants and parks. They never meet. Now one might argue that they do occasionally meet in Orkut and Facebook and other such virtual parks. But I am still a creature of the ancient age and the world wide web, despite my own share of marvel, utility and interest in it, is not one where I would like to meet my date.
I must be a queer one to say "Man is a social animal". Well, at least you will find many essays and articles which assert that man is a social animal. But today, I would consider that as a blasphemy. For two reasons; for one, man is not an animal, not any longer and secondly, man is not social. Well, thats my opinion anyway. You may argue otherwise, protesting that you party with your friends every week end, go to the cinema with your gang, eat out with your colleagues. Then let me ask you, how many strangers have you greeted in a mall or a park or a club or a restaurant? You don't greet. You don't expect to be greeted. You don't want to be greeted. If by some miscalculated chance, some body does greet you, you look at him suspiciously, throw him such icy piercing looks, he will draw a wall around himself. There ends his society. There dies another social animal.
I, however, did not entirely miss a few romantic encounters. The first of them took place in my city of dreams. Bombay? Oh no. No no. Madras. That was the city where dream like events took place in my life. I was asked once, on the occasion of finishing five years in Bombay, which coincided with my graduation, what my most memorable event in Bombay was. I sat trying to think about it the rest of my lunch. But all I could think about was my internship in IMSc, Chennai. It was there, one fine sunny morning, that I had my first surprise of my life. I was sitting in the cafeteria, digging into my breakfast and reading the newspaper. Washing down my breakfast with coffee, I looked up to see two Christian ladies walking into the cafeteria. One walked behind the other, their steps brisk. Just as I was about to return to my newspaper, the lady in the front gave a nod and mouthed "Good morning"! I was surprised. Almost stunned and paralysed. But my instinct took over. I nodded in return and wished her good morning. My eyes then moved over to the lady walking behind. She nodded in time and smiled, "Good morning". I returned her smile and said, "Good morning". They had a word with the cook and then nodding again to me, made their way out of the cafeteria, leaving me in doubt. I doubted my convictions about human nature the first time then. A moment later I relapsed, shook myself off of the doubts. Those two were not humans, I told myself. But the truth, I think, is that it left a strong permanent mark on me.
It was also during this time in the same city of Madras that I made my acquaintances with a certain tall, heavy, black PhD student, with his hair in a pony-tail. It is an acquaintance that I cherish and always remind myself of when in despair. He made me realise the true strength of a human. Yes, I am talking about a human. If there is anything that the humans can own that is worth some pride (or shame to some), it is his/her immeasurable capacity to endure. It was also thanks to his acquaintance that I met the girl with big black eyes who is good at math.
So that was the first of the few romantic encounters. The last of them happened today.
I woke up lazy. Flipped through the newspapers. I thanked my angels, for it was not raining this morning, though it was not very dry either. I walked the familiar road to my office. Almost there, I got a message from my elder cousin:
"What's the actual meaning of Morning?
Morning = 'one more inning' given by 'God' to play!
Don't let him down. Make Best of it!
Good Morning!"
It was a little overwhelming, but it was pleasant; I replied, "Good morning to you too" and resumed walking.
A little ahead, some one jogging in the street called out to somebody else, "GOOD MORNING". I remembered the Chennai incident. I smiled. I nodded and whispered morning to myself. Then I turned around the corner to see a great dane walking towards me beside its master. As we got closer, it walked more towards me a little and nodded its head. I replied him with a nod. But I was pleasantly surprised to see a tiny pomerenian, walking proudly behind the great dane, also come closer to me, look me in the eye, lick its nose and nod its head twice.
'Yes. Morning to you too', I said gently.
Human or otherwise, it has been quite a long time since I received a greeting from a stranger.
Well, thus endeth my latest romantic encounter and my very very Good Morning.
Jade
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