Waxworks

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A couple of days back I cheated on my blog and didn't compose a single word; instead I copy-pasted a tall tale from Mark Twain. Because I got busy. This is how:

Over the past couple of years my folks started complaining that I am becoming more and more 'hearing-impaired'. I told them it is not MY problem...I am fine and have no complaints.

My son then told me off and said they had to shout louder and louder to get my attention. I said they are welcome. And he insisted he takes me to the latest Hearing Clinic where everything is computerized and it makes X-Y plots of my hearing vs frequency and corrects it frequency-wise by a chip which is implanted in a practically invisible mini-battery-operated hearing device @ Rs 35,000 (only) if you are happy with base metal and up to Rs 1 lakh if you want gold and platinum (like the good old false teeth).

Good that I pretended not to hear him...

I was then reminded of the ear-trumpet Mr. Wardle's mother was happily using when Mr. Wardle tried to introduce Mr. Pickwick to her eminence:

"Mr. Pickwick, mother," said Mr. Wardle at the very top of his voice.

"Ah!" said the old lady shaking her head; "I can't hear you."

"Mr. Pickwick, grandma!" screamed both the young ladies together.

"Ah!" exclaimed the old lady. "Well, it don't much matter. He don't care for an old 'ooman like me, I daresay."

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But over the last week or so, there was this new sensation whenever I turned my head...the right ear felt like I was shaking a bottle of coke...gurgling and bubbling and frothing sounds emanating inwardly...nothing high-sounding you know. And there was this premonition that ear-pain may shoot any time now. That was the time for action. I asked my son for the nearest ENT chap and he browsed the web on his mobile and gave me the address; and felt sorry he couldn't escort me there since he has a Customer Meeting with his American clients (who don't, as of now, believe in working night-shifts). I said, no problem, I will take care of myself exemplarily.

The Receptionist was busy on her cell phone and was waving away everyone approaching her to come after an hour since the Surgeon is in the OT. Everyone left but me...I sat down and browsed web on MY ancient cell phone, maybe 1G or even 0G. Go to GPRS and type Google and it will go into coma and after five good minutes suddenly wake up....great time-pass.

As expected, the Surgeon, a young chap my son's age, came out in 15 minutes. And I entered and explained my complaint as graphically as I could. He dismissed all my tall talk and ordered me to turn my right ear to him. And shone a torch light. And recoiled in horror. And he turned my head the other side...the left ear didn't disappoint him either.

He then recovered his voice and cried that both my ears were filled to the brim with good old wax. And asked me how I managed to collect it. I said I take shower at least half a dozen times a day (I didn't tell him that my head gets hot every other hour due to intense inner activity...like the engine of my old Maruti).

He asked me how is my hearing...I said I have no problem, since I got to be an expert at lip-reading...four-letter words like Reco and five-letter ones like Grade...over the last four decades at KGP. And anything context-sensitive is peanuts for me to make out.

He then looked outside the window and saw my Maruti and asked me how I could drive in Hyderabad city with such mounds of wax in my both ears. I said I am blind too in the right eye and maybe they compensate...

He then prescribed a Wax-Melter bottle and asked me to pour three drops of the thing thrice a day in each ear. He said in three days the wax would melt and then he will clean the ears on Tuesday evening (tomorrow). I asked him why not clean them right away and he said he could, but it would pain like hell...I jumped up and ran home like a surprised jackrabbit.

Ishani was waiting for me and I gave her the immense pleasure of watching the Wax-Melting Operation for the first time (for both of us). SDM used to spread the word that gps's Algebra is kachcha...but my Arithmetic is sound. I quickly calculated, like the Inverter we are going to buy that gives 'support' for three fans and three tubes for three hours...and poured nine drops in each ear and we both slept.

Ishani and I woke up after three good hours. And I felt a strange sensation in both the ears that things are about to fall down like hail. I asked her to quickly fetch a crucible from her mom's kitchen which she did running with excitement.

One by one mini-stones were dropping out whichever side I turned. I collected them with tweezers and dropped them gently in the crucible, after examining their shape and explaining to her that this one is like Shiv Ling, the other like Ganeshjee, and the third like Hanuman sans tail...her joy knew no bounds and she was screaming with delight...

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I was then reminded of a story told by my friend at KGP...unlike me, he is too honest to fib.

He was flying from Cal to Delhi the other day and was in the aisle seat with a serious-looking neighbor in the window seat. And found that every few minutes, his neighbor was picking his nose and collecting the output in a glass petri dish. My friend got annoyed at first but after an hour got curious and asked him what the idea was.

He was told that his neighbor was a Scientist D in an R&D Lab, was an experimental physicist with lots of patents in bio-instrumentation and recently won a Project for Rs 50 lakhs for devising mini-capacitors using organic dielectrics and he has already collected about 40 grams of the specimen and as soon as it becomes a round 50 grams, he would make a series of investigations on its dielectric properties like Cole-Cole Plot.

My friend asked him why can't the regular ones like paper and ceramic be used. The Scientist explained to him that these devices he is making are for implanting in the brain and heart, like say, pacemakers (Mrs KVR used to call them charmingly: 'Spacemakers'). And any fool can understand that Rejection is the main problem with these inorganic external implants but one's own body parts are never rejected...

And he said: "Excuse me!" and picked his nose...

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My son rushed home at midnight and asked me:

"Dad! How did it go?"

"Fine; but stop bawling!"


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