Oddities

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Ishani is left-handed.

And it is fascinating to watch her tackle things in this right-handed world. She is always busy with her hands, trying to 'pull' open closed systems like the caps of ball-pens, zippers of money purses, lids of tins...with her left hand.

She hasn't yet discovered, thank you, how to unscrew caps; and I noted with amazement how many many household gadgets are 'screwed'.

Left-handers fascinate me...they are all exceptionally talented...maybe because of the challenges they face early in life. Most every gadget here is designed for right-handers...majority bullying!

Take for instance the student chairs at IIT KGP. They have a hand-rest on their right side which serves as a writing pad. And it is just lovely watching how left-handed students tackle them writing their exams.

Or the sewing machine... or the old-fashioned Remington typewriter...or even the telephone in its booth.

I could beat most right-handed opponents in ping-pong in our Faculty Club; but was beaten hollow by lefties...God knows where they hit or what spin they impart.

It has been 40 years since I watched a movie in a regular cine theater...only snatches on TV. And I belonged to the Dileep Kumar - Madhubala generation. Amitabh Bachan is a kid for me and never watched any of his hit movies through and through.

But someone told me that his KBC program was good. And I became a regular. I was less interested in the questions and answers...but just watching AB was fascinating, especially when he claps his Big B hands the wrong way round. I guess he knows it.

Indeed any oddity always attracted me.

The other day Siddhartha sent me a video clip of what he claimed a mod version of Ashtavadhanam:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBe92Udthro&feature=player_detailpage#t=8s

I thought I would get bored in the first minute and give up...but no, I watched it 3 times so far in full.

No, not the Robot Rajni, but the eyes of Aishwarya Rai...I hope she was born with those and not made them up.

And people who stammer and stutter please me so. I shared my Office with Prof RGC for a year. He had a very pleasing stammer and I always made him talk and watch happily till he became aware of it.

There was this wonderful Prof AKC who had a squint and a lovely sense of humor. And it was fun to watch him.

There are a lot of Marwari retail business establishments in the nukkads of Hyderabad. And I always frequent them. I speak to them in chaste (?) Hindi, so they are very nice to me and don't mind when I linger watching them talk in their quaint Telugu to their customers. Just lovely!

By the way why are odd numbers called 'odd'? My guess is that they are not divisible by two...everything good on this Earth comes in twos like what God commanded Noah:

"And of every living thing of all flesh, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark, to keep them alive with thee; they shall be male and female."

I don't watch dogs at all...but I watch cats for hours...dogs are 'even' but cats are 'odd' and herein lies their strength.

Read for instance what an ass Montmorency made of himself:

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We were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High
Street a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began
to trot across the road.  Montmorency gave a cry of joy—the cry of a
stern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his hands—the sort of cry
Cromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hill—and flew
after his prey.

His victim was a large black Tom.  I never saw a larger cat, nor a more
disreputable-looking cat.  It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,
and a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose.  It was a long,
sinewy-looking animal.  It had a calm, contented air about it.

Montmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;
but the cat did not hurry up—did not seem to have grasped the idea that
its life was in danger.  It trotted quietly on until its would-be
assassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down
in the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,
inquiring expression, that said:

“Yes!  You want me?”

Montmorency does not lack pluck; but there was something about the look
of that cat that might have chilled the heart of the boldest dog.  He
stopped abruptly, and looked back at Tom.

Neither spoke; but the conversation that one could imagine was clearly as
follows:—

THE CAT: “Can I do anything for you?”

MONTMORENCY: “No—no, thanks.”

THE CAT: “Don’t you mind speaking, if you really want anything, you
know.”

MONTMORENCY (_backing down the High Street_): “Oh, no—not at
all—certainly—don’t you trouble.  I—I am afraid I’ve made a mistake.  I
thought I knew you.  Sorry I disturbed you.”

THE CAT: “Not at all—quite a pleasure.  Sure you don’t want anything,
now?”

MONTMORENCY (_still backing_): “Not at all, thanks—not at all—very kind
of you.  Good morning.”

THE CAT: “Good-morning.”

Then the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what
he calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up
an unimportant position in the rear.

To this day, if you say the word “Cats!” to Montmorency, he will visibly
shrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:

“Please don’t.”

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