Clumsy match-making

By Rooma Mehra

CHILDHOOD being the "primary" learning stage in life, and children, unencumbered as they are by adult hang-ups about learning, learn their lessons fairly quickly.I learnt one valuable lesson as a child which goes thus: "Silence is golden — specially if you have the unfortunate knack of putting your foot in your mouth every time you open it".

I stumbled upon this lesson in school (outside the classroom, of course) when, sitting with a group of friends in the school lawns gossiping about teachers — the other girls were gossiping, yours truly was studying (the tragedy of it all) — I took my first tumble in life.

The favourite topic of discussion those days was the sweet romance between Mr M and Miss M, our art teachers. Woe betide those who say that all work and no gossip makes one a dull person. I should have wisely continued studying but I had to air my two-bit view on the subject. "I fail to understand why Mr M and Miss M do not get married. They have so much in common and it is a bit of a miracle that they are both still unattached in their late forties... ." I stopped, interrupted by a loud sob. Miss M’s niece had joined the group just as I had began my discourse.

I still ponder about that sob sometimes, wondering where the tragedy in that relationship lay. At that time, however, my primary concern, since I could not eat my words, was to try to undo the harm I had done to myself, mainly. Painting was my favourite subject, and after that small incident, later blown up into a full-fledged "episode", the mild-mannered Miss M hated me with the ferocity of a tigress.

Those who were unaware of my faux pas — and the subsequent row of blunders committed while trying to "undo the harm" — must have wondered why she picked on me all the time... the quietest girl in school who loved painting with as much passion as Miss M obviously loved Mr M.

With the passage of time she learnt, albeit grudgingly, to give my work its due but she never forgave me.

The lesson was well and truly learnt.

Or so I think... because lessons learnt in childhood are easily unlearnt in later years. I remembered it a few weeks ago, when an evidently wrong choice of words in complimenting a fellow artist friend at Garhi, managed to ruffle his feathers to the extent that the most gentle, soft-spoken artist in our clan almost squashed me underfoot with a scathing, "You know, when I entered this field, you were probably still sucking your thumb!"

I was tempted to tell him the truth, that I heartily wished I had been sucking my thumb, but I was busy being caught foot-in-mouth (so much more dangerous than the "thumb-in-mouth" syndrome) situation, making ill-needed comments about my art teachers. That started me wondering all over again about that love story.

The other day I met a niece of mine studying in my alma mater. Mr M and Miss M are still as close as ever and the little ones’ favourite gossip revolves round the twosome.

I still do not know the beginning and the middle of that story but since I doggedly believe in miracles, I am still hoping for a happy ending to that long romance. After all, 60-something is not the end of the road.. And miracles do happen...sometimes.