Of Dogs And Men

Dear Sri,

I read a few of the fb's and found myself asking a question pretty close to the one raised by Satchi and Iravati. And thought and thought and finally came to a conclusion. You see, the old lady made it clear that there will be no idlis unless they behave. In your case, you didn't feed them idlis of course. But given what you did for the dying man, you might have produced the impression that you could well supply idlis too, if the situation demanded. The burly guy softened towards you as he realized that you were a potential idli supplier.

More seriously, couldn't it be possible that the burly guy remembered events from the past. Can it be ruled out that his father possibly had met with a similar accident when he was a young boy? He could have run from pillar to post seeking help, but on one, especially the police, showed any mercy at all. He could have developed a sort of hatred for the "class" you represented. It was just a matter of chance that you became a bank officer and not a police officer. And then you did what you did. It was an eye opener for him. All humanity was not as insensitive as the people who let his father expire unattended.

Just a thought. Perhaps I am being ultra-romantic.

I recall a staff member of Canara Bank in the Sealdah Branch. He was the personification of rudeness, especially towards bank customers. His pet phrase was: Don't think that it is your money that keeps the bank going. Your deposits here don't amount to marginally more than zero per cent.

Being an economist and having being adequately exposed to the principles of banking, I felt like explaining to him how wrong his reasoning was. What he was taking advantage of was that the customers didn't have a union of their own. If each one of the small customers closed his account, then the handful of large customers wouldn't be able to keep the bank going. But I didn't explain. Instead, I just accepted his dictum: Come tomorrow. We are too busy today.

The non-busy tomorrow used to arrive several weeks later. Invariably so. Finally, I did close my account and shifted it elsewhere. There were burly guys there too, but less so than the Sealdah burly.

Incidentally, the Sealdah chap was clean shaven. I leave the rest to your imagination.

oj

 

Objection malord! Don't reject cats so early on. They may be déclassé. They may not have the dignity and charm of a dog but they make up for their shortcomings in the most unusual manner. Yes, I am talking about that purported cat piano. Rumour has it that a Holy Roman Emperor was gifted a cat piano. You may ask why would someone prefer a "A" note meow to a "G" note bark of a dog. I only hope it was a slight tug of a tail to unleash the cry rather than a barbed poke. Before the talking dogs charmed us away, the singing cats ruled our hearts.

 

I am scared of both cats and dogs. I am scared of all kinds of pets. I generally avoid streets (circumvent) on seeing "Beware of dogs" sign on the gate. If you hold a knife at my throat and ask me to rank my pathological fear between cats and dogs, then I'd choose cats over dogs.

I fear cats more! But then, I scare them equally. Any time I am startled by a wayward cat on a street and shriek, the poor thing recoils in confusion and curls up and emits a soft meow. Even the softest meow is a deathwatch beetle's ominous cry. I am very scared of cats and their grisly meows.

 

I don't know many cats in literature. There's that dandy Tomcat Murr from The Life and Opinions of the Tomcat Murr together with a fragmentary Biography of Kapellmeister Johannes Kreisler on Random Sheets of Waste Paper by ETA Hoffmann and my revered epitome of indolence, i.e, Garfield. When you cited Tobermory twice, I had to investigate why you have taken a shine or shrine to this cat. So, I downloaded "The Chronicles of Clovis" and read the chapter on Tobermory.

I just mentioned beautiful but sometimes the chase is imprinted as worthwhile for engaging my time with you.

“Thanks," said Tobermory, "not quite so soon after my tea. I don't want to die of indigestion."
"Cats have nine lives, you know," said Sir Wilfrid heartily.
"Possibly," answered Tobermory; "but only one liver.”

“Bertie van Tahn, who was so depraved at seventeen that he had long ago given up trying to be any worse, turned a dull shade of gardenia white, but he did not commit the error of dashing out of the room like Odo Finsberry, a young gentleman who was understood to be reading for the Church and who was possibly disturbed at the thought of scandals he might hear concerning other people.”

The spectacle at Lady Blemley's houseparty begins with ...

“He had subsided into mere Mr. Appin, and the Cornelius seemed a piece of transparent baptismal bluff.”

And ends with

“Tobermory had been Appin's one successful pupil, and he was destined to have no successor. A few weeks later an elephant in the Dresden Zoological Garden, which had shown no previous signs of irritability, broke loose and killed an Englishman who had apparently been teasing it. The victim's name was variously reported in the papers as Oppin and Eppelin, but his front name was faithfully rendered Cornelius. "If he was trying German irregular verbs on the poor beast," said Clovis, "he deserved all he got.”

Did you notice that connect? How Saki plays with that forsaken name from 'baptismal bluff' to 'faithfully rendered'. Saki writes short stories like no one else! Such glowing wit! He creates magic in a few pen strikes. I was introduced to him recently (a year or two years ago) through Sredni Vashtar story. Thank you for keeping that interest alive. This story is now part of my snooty compilation of "How could you not know of Tobermory" ribbing of friends henceforth. Go and read Tobermory and then talk to me! I am loving this feline series more than the canine series.

 

Such cats will flush the color like they did to Mrs Cornett. I am already scared of cats. With a talking cat, I might turn into a homebody and not even step out scared of the scrutiny around my tactless actions by a pair of translucent and roving eyes. After being acquainted with Tobermory, I think the campy LOL cats on the Internet deserve a praise for their self-indulgent precision somersaults in groomed whiskers. Tobermory is scary! Incidentally, Edison spearheaded the showbiz of cats with the earliest video of boxing cats from 1894 here. I prefer these boxing cats to sage Tobermory's reckoning of human vanity and vagaries. Next time I see a cat, I will be at my best lady-like manners as if I am monitored on CCTV.