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When butterflies come, can moths be far behind?
The campus of IIT KGP was replete with moths of infinite variety. And it was a pleasure to watch them because unlike butterflies they would fly into our secure homes and land here and there and quietly pass away in a day.
By moths I don't mean the little little ugly things that used to eat up our clothes in steel trunks and books in our teak shelves. Although these are the ones that gave us the metaphor:
"Your ideas are moth-eaten"
Our ancestors had no clue how to tackle them. Then came into our markets in the 1960s those round and sweet-smelling balls that we used to call, Naphthalene Balls. It was in the 1980s that they called themselves:
'Moth balls'
...surely an Americanism.
Talking of balls, here is the delicious quote from today's ToI:
The moths that we had at KGP were the gloriously colored huge big ones.
And then there was the Tiger Moth...the famous biplane of RAF during WWII.
In our village Muthukur in the 1950s we had other nightly visitors attracted to our hurricane lamps...the dung beetles. Suddenly one of these specimens with a jet black body and deep violet wings would land on our head. And then the fun would start...jumping up and dancing to throw it off our heads. And finally it would take off and land belly up on the floor. And would be struggling to right itself, crooning all the while.
And we would rush and hustle to pick up a tumbler (lotha) and try and cover the beetle underneath it. And it would slip and slither and finally one of us would succeed in imprisoning it for the night...till another one lands on our heads...
The canonical metaphor for the dung beetle is surely the Volkswagen Beetle that Commodore Mukherjee brought with him to the KGP campus in 1969. And he would flaunt it and show off that it had its engine in its boot. It was very like the dung beetle alright in its shape.
One day he was returning from a weekend visit to Cal. And he didn't know that there was a road accident involving a truck and a student, and the IIT authorities came up with a steep speed-breaker at the SBI. And Commodore Mukherjee's Beetle was coming at a breakneck speed and toppled and turned turtle and righted itself after a somersault. And the Commodore and his Irish wife remained in their front seats unscathed and drove home their Beetle...it was said.
Around that time the KGP campus had a fashion statement to make. Anyone and everyone who were 'in' were crooning soulful tunes, and when I asked them where they stole their tunes from, they replied that there is a new band of crooners calling themselves: Beetles.
I thought that was how they spelled themselves and was happy since I knew from my Muthukur experience that beetles croon well.
But I was reproached and corrected that they were Beatles and not Beetles...
I checked my Webster just now for 'beatle'...there is no such word in English.
Perhaps the Beatles were too shy to retain the correct spelling...
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wiki
When butterflies come, can moths be far behind?
The campus of IIT KGP was replete with moths of infinite variety. And it was a pleasure to watch them because unlike butterflies they would fly into our secure homes and land here and there and quietly pass away in a day.
By moths I don't mean the little little ugly things that used to eat up our clothes in steel trunks and books in our teak shelves. Although these are the ones that gave us the metaphor:
"Your ideas are moth-eaten"
Our ancestors had no clue how to tackle them. Then came into our markets in the 1960s those round and sweet-smelling balls that we used to call, Naphthalene Balls. It was in the 1980s that they called themselves:
'Moth balls'
...surely an Americanism.
Talking of balls, here is the delicious quote from today's ToI:
"Cricket lasts five days. We break every now and then for food. And we spend a lot of time rubbing our balls on our trousers"
...Andrew Flintoff, former English cricketer, explaining cricket to American singer Jennifer Lopez
And then there was the Tiger Moth...the famous biplane of RAF during WWII.
In our village Muthukur in the 1950s we had other nightly visitors attracted to our hurricane lamps...the dung beetles. Suddenly one of these specimens with a jet black body and deep violet wings would land on our head. And then the fun would start...jumping up and dancing to throw it off our heads. And finally it would take off and land belly up on the floor. And would be struggling to right itself, crooning all the while.
And we would rush and hustle to pick up a tumbler (lotha) and try and cover the beetle underneath it. And it would slip and slither and finally one of us would succeed in imprisoning it for the night...till another one lands on our heads...
The canonical metaphor for the dung beetle is surely the Volkswagen Beetle that Commodore Mukherjee brought with him to the KGP campus in 1969. And he would flaunt it and show off that it had its engine in its boot. It was very like the dung beetle alright in its shape.
One day he was returning from a weekend visit to Cal. And he didn't know that there was a road accident involving a truck and a student, and the IIT authorities came up with a steep speed-breaker at the SBI. And Commodore Mukherjee's Beetle was coming at a breakneck speed and toppled and turned turtle and righted itself after a somersault. And the Commodore and his Irish wife remained in their front seats unscathed and drove home their Beetle...it was said.
Around that time the KGP campus had a fashion statement to make. Anyone and everyone who were 'in' were crooning soulful tunes, and when I asked them where they stole their tunes from, they replied that there is a new band of crooners calling themselves: Beetles.
I thought that was how they spelled themselves and was happy since I knew from my Muthukur experience that beetles croon well.
But I was reproached and corrected that they were Beatles and not Beetles...
I checked my Webster just now for 'beatle'...there is no such word in English.
Perhaps the Beatles were too shy to retain the correct spelling...
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