I personally feel that the concept of personal hygiene, etiquette, courtesies are as oblivious to many fellow countrymen and choosing this topic to write i haven’t gone burying my nose into places and spaces. These are just a collection of random observations from my routine life.
We have a glorious history of having The Great Bath of Mohenjodaro but somewhere down the line evolution took its toll and gave us Anosmia: loss of the sense of smell. When it comes to personal hygiene and etiquettes we are openly violating its precepts and often making its doctrines the subject of sarcasm and silly jests? Still don’t catch a drift of my ramblings? Then imagine this ...
The strong pungent onion odor emanating from a colleagues breath is a quick remedy for jostling one out from a post lunch droopy eye syndrome. Heaven help you if you were to discuss something important with him in a closed room. Our love for onions have actually brought down governments, so post lunch onion breath validates a simple popular doctrine - If you aren’t with us then you are against us. We love onions and garlics. And dare challenge us; a prompt harangue is ready with the medical benefits of onions and garlics.
Recently i happen to travel to my client’s location at USA, and one striking thing that i have noticed is that they all smell good from miles. Now compare this, except for the malls in our country, how many other places have you come across scent/perfume shops? Zilch! And during our shopping binge how many times have we bothered to indulge ourselves with a good cologne/perfume? Ok. So coming back to my recent experience, here i am at the client location feeling happy that at least I am not making them turn their noses when they are around me. So i am not sporting a Dolce and Gabbana, Armani, Lacoste, Polo, Ralph Lauren but then i am pretty happy with my Nike cologne. And I wait for a colleague from India who is to join me in my assignment here. In comes an unshaven lad with an acrid smell of garlics. I am more than tempted to inquire if we have launched a Garlic soap during my absence from India or if it’s an in-thing nowadays to smear your body with garlic paste. But I bite my tongue and hope that I catch common cold.
And then there are those who routinely go out for a puff. These are the smoke dragons. The smoking areas nearby the office are generally the best place to catch up on office gossip n rumors. And so people often come back from such places brimming with excitement and will often get too uncomfortably close to my ears to tell me stories which go "You know what ....” In my grimace, I forget to appreciate the gesture of them sharing news with me and end up advising them to have some mint.
Its one thing to be donning a tuft of vegetation in your armpits and another be so goddamned lazy so as to not use a razor/trimmer to weed out that area. I know of people whose Hyperhidrosis accentuated with their onion/garlic rich diet makes me squirm in my seat whenever I see them coming towards me..cauz even when they've left their 'presence' remains, a painful reminder of the torture that i mutedly underwent while maintaining my courteous demeanor.
And finally, there are those who unashamedly display this syndrome - that gases are meant to be expelled - and that too with all aplomb. There is limerick which goes - he belches or farts, the wind is equally strong from either part. Some thunderous belches are often accompanied by a loud and fervent obeisance to gods. These are mostly solo acts and therefore not much harm is done. But at times you’re so engrossed in the middle of a very serious, eye brows arched, arms failing, "today-we-end-global warming" kinda discussion when BANG...your nasal hair is singed, you brain is reeling under the trauma from the shock to the receptors in your nose, suddenly you realize that you have lost track of what you were going to say; and that crucial thought process goes poof and you sit there ..blank... while the tormentor continues, you are transported to a world where you're analyzing the source of chemicals that are now suspended in the air. What could he have eaten??? ...he said he is a vegetarian then why this disgusting smell of dead carcass.
Then there are times when I am working hard, with steadfast concentration, typing fast, straining my eyes on the monitor when suddenly I am taken off guard by a squeaky chemical weapon of mass destruction. Since I can never know the direction from where the missile was hurled; thanks to central air-conditioning; I just hold my breath, leave the seat to get a cup of coffee and hope that the gaseous cloud would have moved on by the time I come back. What I have learnt is that one should never hold one's breath if one wishes to hold the fort; because one inhales much faster after such spells of breath-holding sessions thereby inflicting greater magnitude of pain upon oneself.
I have often come across many a nonchalant 'Gaseous Clay' who have mastered the art of tilting a little while seated for work and then relieving themselves without even breaking their pace. And the Brits are to be blamed for it. They gave us "Excuse Me" for pardoning one self from burping but left us in the dark when it came to farting in public. There was this time when I ran to catch a lift whose doors were closing. I just about managed to jab my hand at the closing door and was happy to have made it. As the doors were closing I realized why the only other person standing in that lift hadn’t bothered to stop the doors from closing. I pressed the button to operate the lift fans but it wouldn’t work, and I started to feel as if the lift had also lost its consciousness and was slowing down. So I turned around to stare at my co passenger who just stood there, head held high with a firm gaze. If only I could tear out the non functional fan and shove it at the source of this smell.
Then there was a time, when me and my biker friends rode down to a remote desolate hilltop. Amidst all camaraderie and bonhomie, a 4-person tent was setup, while it was drizzling and then we quickly got into dry clothes and lay down to rest our aching backs and to call it a night. So when the torch lights went out and we were rewinding the beautiful landscapes we all had seen when something close to a Klaxon was sounded. We were all out of our droopy eyed stupor and went "What in heavens name was that?" that's when we were hit by the deadly smell. Immediately it was a brawl as we couldn’t go out as it was raining and we couldn’t open our tent flaps lest the slant rain creep in. And the more the victims cussed and cursed; the happier the perpetrator grew; he would promise not to repeat it and we all would settle down only to start again at the next Klaxon-announcement.
And so life continues to place me in such situations where I feel like corking their orifices and then applauding the effrontery to having dared to implement such novel and innovative ideas.
So if frogs had wings, they wouldn't bump their asses when they hop! meaning 'If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.'
