Past Perfect

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It is said that Nature abhors Vacuum.

I guess it also abhors Perfection: like Absolute Zero or a Perfect Crystal.

There is always something that spoils Perfection and makes Life interesting.

Yesterday I wrote how Nature spoiled the Perfection of my Ph D Thesis by a weird spelling mistake.

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This is the season of weddings in Hyderabad. The weather is just fine in February, no rains expected, winter chill is on its way out (Sorry Saswat: your NYC is perhaps still buried under yards of snow), summer is still a month away; And if you decide to perform your Maryland Doll's shotgun wedding to that Minnesota Dude in a hurry, you have to travel a hundred miles away from the City to get a suitable Function Hall...every swell thing has been booked six months in advance.

It is thus the season of printing Wedding Cards.

Three years ago almost to a day I got my son's Wedding Cards printed. The Printer tried to exhibit samples from his Historic arXivs: he has a dozen, you pick your choice, and all he has to do is change names, dates and venue: Just a 10-minute affair.

But I being an Original (like Sam Weller), I didn't want to see any but make up one in my own style. And being a Perfectionist, sat with the Printer and went through my Proofs three times, to his utter disgust. But at last I was convinced that I got it Word-Perfect, Spell-Perfect and Punct-Perfect.

And everyone to whom I sent it appreciated it (no one READS Wedding Cards...they just glance at the names, dates and venue...the Printer was right!).

The other day I happened to take a re-look at a spare copy of that old Wedding Card when the Passport of my D-i-L had to be processed.

And, READING it, I found a Full Stop where it ought not to be there at all.

Sigh!

Luminiscence Story once again!

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When my son was an infant he developed an aggressive and fearsome rash all over his face, neck and torso overnight. The Skin Specialist advised us to stop using all oils, lotions, cosmetics and the usual bath-preparations on him since he is prone to allergy.

So, he looked his natural Angelic Self and looked Fair & Lovely.

One day when I was wheeling him around in his pram, a senior-citizen stranger stopped by and rebuked me: "Don't you know that you have to put a black dot on the right side of his forehead to forestall the Evil Eye?".

I made some excuse and hurried ahead.

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Apparently, this Evil Eye Business is not confined to our culture but exists in some form or the other everywhere.

I recall a Reader's Digest tidbit:

This guy from Kenya went to England and made it good and bought a fantastic new car and bragged about it to his mom in Nairobi. Africa being the home of things like Voodoo, his mom asked him to at once wring the neck of a chick and pour its warm blood over the bonnet of his new car; which her very British Kid was reluctant to do.

But his mom persisted pestering him; and so one day he placed an egg on the ground and drove his car over it and reported to his mom that the chick-sacrifice has been carried out successfully.

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When the New Wing of the Central Library at KGP was coming up, I was watching its progress every day and felt how lovely the tiles on its outer wall were looking...perfectly designed and arranged.

But to my consternation one morning I saw an inlaid Swastika Variant fixture on the wall.

And was told that it is a normal custom prevalent in Bengal to ward off the Evil Eye.

Evil Eye on our IIT LIbrary!!!

For housing a copy of my (Past) Perfect Thesis?

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And then I bought this Apartment in my home town, Nellore, and had to shell down twenty thousand costly rupees that bankrupted me further, performing a socio-religious Grihapravesham (House-Warming) Function to please my relatives and propitiate sundry Gods and Goddesses.

At the end of the mumbo-jumbo ritual (during which the Purohit pauperized me, asking to place unending tenners here and there), he led me by hand to the outer wall, took a silver plate (which he snatched away later), mixed yellow haldi (turmeric) and red kumkum (vermilion), and wet-lime, and poured water over the concoction till it looked bloody; and asked me to sprinkle the damn thing on the brand new outer walls of my dear home.

I asked him what it was all about and he replied that in accordance with strict good old Vedic Rituals, he has to fetch a goat, behead it and sprinkle its blood; but since we all turned vegetarian after Buddhism took over, this bloody concoction he made up acts like a (poor) imitation of goat's genuine blood.

Why blame African Voodoo...and laugh at that RD British Son of Nairobi?

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My Father used to tell me this typical story of how men are scared of Perfection in their wives:

This well-read Brahmin Youth married the most beautiful girl in the town picked up by his mom, and on taking a first look at her radiant face on the First Night recalled the Sanskrit aphorism: "Bharya Roopavati Shatruh" meaning: "A Beautiful Wife is an Enemy" (ask Menelaus, the husband of Helen of Troy!).

So, he plucked one of her eyes and was looking at his handiwork with quiet satisfaction that her Perfection has been suitably besmirched.

Then he recalled another Sanskrit aphorism:

"Ekakshee Lok Sanchari" meaning: "Single Eye is a Roving Eye".

So, he plucked the remaining one.

Moral: Don't Look at Perfection...few can stand Her glare.

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My Father was a connoisseur of Beauty in his own way.

When I was a boy of ten and was still a male 'madchen', he took me to a movie in which a brand new starlet (later she became a mega-star) was making her debut.

On our way home, he said: "She is the most beautiful film star I saw".

And I, being a novice to this Beauty Worship (I took my own sweet time), asked him:

"How come; she has this one silly tooth growing over the other!"

He replied:

"That is her Beauty Spot".

I am not sure if he would have enjoyed the Perfect Set of Madhuri Dixit's teeth...but of course he would certainly have discovered some other Mar-Perfect Defect as her Beauty Spot.

Any idea who it was that first said: "Beauty is in the eyes of the Beholder?"

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