From Donkey to Bull… Thanks to Traffic and Chakras
My schoolmate, who had joined us only in the past couple of months, was still finding his feet in a group that has, quite literally, grown old together. We meet once a month at one of our homes, much to the quiet resilience of neighbours who must endure what can only be described as a full day of “noise pollution”, starting around 11 in the morning and stretching till about 10 at night. Karaoke, dumb charades, and a steady stream of innovative games (enthusiastically curated by some of the more enterprising wives) ensure that the decibel levels remain consistently high.
On this occasion, it was convenient for my schoolmate and another friend, along with their spouses, to take the metro to my place. (Hereafter, “schoolmate” refers to the one who has joined us recently, while “friend” denotes the one who has been part of the group for over four decades.). From there, the four of them piled into my car as we made our way to the venue.
The day, as always, flew by. And just as we were debating whether to stretch the evening a little longer, the metro timings intervened. Reluctantly, we wrapped up around 10 pm, aiming to catch the last train.
The return journey, however, had its own plans. It was drizzling, traffic was crawling, and the 12-kilometre stretch to the metro station felt far longer than it should. Conversations meandered, as they do, with introductions deepening between my schoolmate and the others.
My schoolmate, it turned out, is a certified acupuncture healer, with several other alternative healing practices under his belt. This sparked an animated discussion with my friend’s wife, who is herself into similar pursuits. I, as usual, stayed out of it, these topics tend to operate well beyond my bandwidth.
At one point, my friend remarked to my schoolmate, that while I may not necessarily believe in such methods, I am open to them, provided the intent is genuine. That required some clarification from my end. I explained that while these things are beyond my comprehension, I do appreciate the intent, perhaps more out of diplomacy than conviction.
Taking that as encouragement, my schoolmate launched into an elaborate explanation, atoms, electrons, neutrons, chakras, the full repertoire. It began to feel less like a car ride and more like a throwback to my school-day science classes.
Sensing the need for survival, I gently suggested that we switch topics, lest I doze off at the wheel and need to be woken up in the middle of that slow-moving traffic. That broke the rhythm, and laughter followed.
In an attempt to lighten things further, my schoolmate quipped with a grin,
“ಕತ್ತೆಗೆ ಏನು ಗೊತ್ತು ಕಸ್ತೂರಿ ಪರಿಮಳ”
(What would a donkey know of the fragrance of the Jasmine flower!).
Not to be outdone, my friend chimed in almost instantly,
“ಕೋಣನ ಮುಂದೆ ಕಿನ್ನರಿ ಬಾರಿಸಿದಂತೆ!”
(What’s the use of playing the stringed instrument (kinnari) in front of a male buffalo!)
Then, almost as an afterthought, the friend added, “Nothing personal.”
I couldn’t help but intervene. “So, the two of you are debating whether I’m a donkey or a male buffalo, and reassuring each other that there’s nothing personal in it. Where exactly is the ‘personal’ element here, amongst the two of you, when I am clearly the subject of discussion?”
Without missing a beat, my schoolmate responded that he might well have objected to my being “upgraded” from donkey to a male buffalo, and therefore, my friend’s disclaimer was entirely justified.
And just like that, in the middle of a rain-soaked traffic jam, racing against the last metro, we found ourselves laughing uncontrollably, reminded yet again that after four decades, friendship thrives not despite such moments, but because of them.
Stories, not instructions. Experiences, not advice—medical or otherwise. Data, only what the internet quietly gathers anyway. Proceed with equal parts curiosity and common sense.
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