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What that Flower Girl was doing to Higgins and Pickering is a typical instance of what I call:
"Droning"
Droning is superior to grumbling as it encompasses silent protests too and is more effective than grumbling.
Take my Father.
He was a Head Master till he retired and while in service he was a HM at home too...his word was Law. But folks like that can't easily adjust to retirement and they suddenly feel de-fanged. Students and teachers who were pissing in their pants whenever they saw him ignore him now which is worse than abuse, ridicule, or contempt. Once they give him a send-off with a shawl and some poetry, he is expected to vanish...like I did from KGP.
But Father bought a house and settled in Gudur where he had served for a decade and more. At home now his wife and grown-up kids find him a nuisance, all the time crossing their paths with HM's Orders and Commands. They wish he were away from home eight hours a day (Saturdays and Sundays included). But he has no place to go. And slowly he finds his (imaginary) grip over family affairs vanish...it was never there...my mom held sway all the while, giving him a pretense of respect and freedom to say "Yes" since he was till then too busy with his office work to notice it.
Now he notices everywhere that he is being ignored.
It is then that he takes to grumbling. He finds great solace in this activity, since he IS passing orders under his breath. But this practice of his is new to his wife and kids and they try to hear what he is grumbling about and find it atrocious and ask him to stop that low db noise forthwith.
He would protest:
"Don't I have a right to even grumble in my own home?"
The answer is an emphatic:
"No"
They ask him to go sit under that neem tree and grumble as much as he wants. He then falls silent.
That is when he begins to DRONE.
Spoken criticism is tolerable. But unspoken but gestured disapproval is worse. Because, the wife and kids who are subject to those lock-in-radar looks and head-turnings and sighs and deep breaths are deeply annoyed since they don't know precisely what is going on in his mind now.
And they shout:
"Will you stop that droning?"
And he would say:
"Can't I even look at you?"
The thundering answer is a loud:
"NO!"
If the retired HM (like my Father) is sensible enough, he would take up a part-time job under the Reddy whom he had kicked out of his Office not many years ago for suggesting a wee bribe to pass his daughter.
That is the last straw...but he is now in the company of equals...a dozen past Head Masters, Post Masters, Munsiffs, Judges, Sub-Collectors...all of whom tell tall tales of how wonderful THOSE days were and how they were as honest as Sriraamjees, as devoted to work as Hanumanjees, and as respected as Sage Vasishthas.
That is Summum Bonum for all concerned.
Hyderabad is no different. I used to often visit the corner store DTDC Outlet while I was in our previous rented house. Its owner was a young Reddy whom I befriended. Since I was a high-value customer, Reddy asked his Assistant who actually did the weighing, writing, pinning, and collecting cash to give me a 20% discount. His Assistant turned out to be a very old man, short of hearing, seeing, and even speaking up, but enjoying his occasional fag. He was otherwise very courteous and as efficient as is expected of a senior citizen my age.
One fine morning I found a new teenager in the place of the Old Man. And I asked Reddy what happened to our Old Man. And he replied that he passed away peacefully the other night. And I was told that the Old Man was actually a retired Head Master who begged to be employed for tea and biscuits and a cigarette once in a while...
Poor chap didn't learn blogging...
...Posted by Ishani
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THE FLOWER GIRL. Ought to be ashamed of himself, unmanly coward!
THE GENTLEMAN. But is there a living in that?
THE NOTE TAKER. Oh yes. Quite a fat one. This is an age of upstarts.
Men begin in Kentish Town with 80 pounds a year, and end in Park Lane
with a hundred thousand. They want to drop Kentish Town; but they give
themselves away every time they open their mouths. Now I can teach them--
THE FLOWER GIRL. Let him mind his own business and leave a poor girl--
THE NOTE TAKER [explosively] Woman: cease this detestable boohooing
instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place of worship.
THE FLOWER GIRL [with feeble defiance] I've a right to be here if I like,
same as you.
THE NOTE TAKER. A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting
sounds has no right to be anywhere--no right to live. Remember that you
are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech: that
your native language is the language of Shakespeare and Milton and The Bible;
and don't sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon.
THE FLOWER GIRL [quite overwhelmed, and looking up at him in mingled
wonder and deprecation without daring to raise her head] Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--oo!
THE NOTE TAKER [whipping out his book] Heavens! what a sound!
[He writes; then holds out the book and reads, reproducing her vowels exactly]
Ah--ah--ah--ow--ow--ow--oo!
THE FLOWER GIRL [tickled by the performance, and laughing in spite of herself]
Garn!
...Shaw's PygmalionWhat that Flower Girl was doing to Higgins and Pickering is a typical instance of what I call:
"Droning"
Droning is superior to grumbling as it encompasses silent protests too and is more effective than grumbling.
Take my Father.
He was a Head Master till he retired and while in service he was a HM at home too...his word was Law. But folks like that can't easily adjust to retirement and they suddenly feel de-fanged. Students and teachers who were pissing in their pants whenever they saw him ignore him now which is worse than abuse, ridicule, or contempt. Once they give him a send-off with a shawl and some poetry, he is expected to vanish...like I did from KGP.
But Father bought a house and settled in Gudur where he had served for a decade and more. At home now his wife and grown-up kids find him a nuisance, all the time crossing their paths with HM's Orders and Commands. They wish he were away from home eight hours a day (Saturdays and Sundays included). But he has no place to go. And slowly he finds his (imaginary) grip over family affairs vanish...it was never there...my mom held sway all the while, giving him a pretense of respect and freedom to say "Yes" since he was till then too busy with his office work to notice it.
Now he notices everywhere that he is being ignored.
It is then that he takes to grumbling. He finds great solace in this activity, since he IS passing orders under his breath. But this practice of his is new to his wife and kids and they try to hear what he is grumbling about and find it atrocious and ask him to stop that low db noise forthwith.
He would protest:
"Don't I have a right to even grumble in my own home?"
The answer is an emphatic:
"No"
They ask him to go sit under that neem tree and grumble as much as he wants. He then falls silent.
That is when he begins to DRONE.
Spoken criticism is tolerable. But unspoken but gestured disapproval is worse. Because, the wife and kids who are subject to those lock-in-radar looks and head-turnings and sighs and deep breaths are deeply annoyed since they don't know precisely what is going on in his mind now.
And they shout:
"Will you stop that droning?"
And he would say:
"Can't I even look at you?"
The thundering answer is a loud:
"NO!"
If the retired HM (like my Father) is sensible enough, he would take up a part-time job under the Reddy whom he had kicked out of his Office not many years ago for suggesting a wee bribe to pass his daughter.
That is the last straw...but he is now in the company of equals...a dozen past Head Masters, Post Masters, Munsiffs, Judges, Sub-Collectors...all of whom tell tall tales of how wonderful THOSE days were and how they were as honest as Sriraamjees, as devoted to work as Hanumanjees, and as respected as Sage Vasishthas.
That is Summum Bonum for all concerned.
Hyderabad is no different. I used to often visit the corner store DTDC Outlet while I was in our previous rented house. Its owner was a young Reddy whom I befriended. Since I was a high-value customer, Reddy asked his Assistant who actually did the weighing, writing, pinning, and collecting cash to give me a 20% discount. His Assistant turned out to be a very old man, short of hearing, seeing, and even speaking up, but enjoying his occasional fag. He was otherwise very courteous and as efficient as is expected of a senior citizen my age.
One fine morning I found a new teenager in the place of the Old Man. And I asked Reddy what happened to our Old Man. And he replied that he passed away peacefully the other night. And I was told that the Old Man was actually a retired Head Master who begged to be employed for tea and biscuits and a cigarette once in a while...
Poor chap didn't learn blogging...
...Posted by Ishani
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