Whoops - It's the Wrong One

Traveling vertically up to the dizzying height of 8000 odd feet is definitely not my idea of entertainment. When reaching the very same destination entails going round and round the mulberry bush (read ‘mountain/s’), then I am in a state of full-blown rebellion. The fact that, whilst traveling, I consistently and faithfully bring the entire family to a grinding halt while I donate the makings of my last 5 meals rather generously to Mother Nature, does not earn me any brownie points either with my beloved ones or myself.

So why do I cave in every summer and suffer the indignity of lying like a sack of potatoes in the back seat of the car (the remainder of the entire family is crammed within the confines of the front – sardines in a tin isn’t a patch on their plight), only to emerge periodically from my sad state of catatonia to emit wails that a banshee would pay a fortune to emulate?

The answer is simple. It’s the orchard.

We have been singularly blessed as a family to have an apple orchard that is perched at the very top of a mountain where it is bathed in sunshine, and is surrounded by the most beautiful of pine forests. To spend the summer there is to be in Paradise.

And so I agree to travel through the 9 hells, just to get to that heavenly place.

Now I don’t know if you’ve ever thought about it, but have you considered the fact that Heaven must be an awfully quiet place – barring the harps? Well, I have, and this only reinforces my opinion of the orchard as being hallowed ground, for a quieter spot you will not find!  The fact that there is also no TV to disturb the celestial silence with its raucous artificiality, only enhances the sense of being in another, rarified dimension.

The down side, however, of this prolonged (and here I must admit – sometimes painful) silence is that entertainment is at a high premium. So - human beings being human, it but naturally follows that curiosity about one’s neighbours is at an all time high!

And so it was that one lovely summer’s day we were seated on our verandah (which, very conveniently, is situated such that every single person who has to go up or down the mountain has to pass by!)  watching the inhabitants of our little insular world enact their role upon our (mountain) stage, when, suddenly, the even tenor of our lives was broken by a shriek that rent the very air and ripped apart the fabric of the calm countryside.

With one accord, the whole hillside came to life! The Robin on the tree froze, but I noticed his beady eyes swiveling for all they were worth, trying to locate the source of the rare and wonderful sound. The cow which had been peacefully grazing but a few moments ago, was now doing an exceedingly creditable imitation of a Pointer in action (a pity her tail isn’t fuzzy), while the lizard that had been lazily sunning itself, metamorphosed into greased lightning and did a disappearing act down the nearest crack in its rock, before u-turning and then zooming back up to poke its nose curiously out of its bolt hole.

The reaction on our perch was no less dramatic. One has heard of – or at least read of the phrase – ‘galvanized into action’? Well, the activity on the verandah fell well within the framework of the above definition! Before one could say ‘Jack Robinson’, every single member of the family was leaning dangerously over the railing, striving hard to be the first to identify the source of the horrendous howl.

Whilst we were all straining our eyes and ears, (and even taking an occasional experimental sniff), we became aware of an exceedingly strange series of sounds that seemed to be increasing in volume as each second ticked by. So starved is one for any kind of distraction in our heavenly abode in the hills, that the immediate response to this break in the monotony was for each one of us to lean even further out, in sheer defiance of the natural force of gravity. If anyone had chanced to glance up at us at that moment, I am quite sure they would have assumed that the jungle had come to stay and that there were 4 simians hanging from the porch! 

Be that as it may, whilst we were each doing our own particular version of a monkey dangling from a branch, there appeared on the horizon a rather peculiar sight. At first glance it seemed as if a drunken gorilla was weaving its way up the mountain side. The figure was hunched at the shoulders, its arms swung loosely from its shoulders, it swayed from side to side, and – most puzzling of all – it seemed to feel the need to duplicate my own efforts whenever we travelled, for every few moments it would pause, lean further over, and spit on the ground.

As the figure loomed closer, however, it gradually became clearer that no such terrifying King Kong had descended on our territory, but what we were witnessing was one of the helpers from the neighbouring orchards, who was very obviously in a state of advanced inebriation. But what continued to pique our curiosity, was the constant depositing of a rather strangely coloured saliva onto terra firma.

Did I mention that entertainment is at a premium in our part of the woods? And I use the word “woods” with great deliberation as I wish to stress upon the fact that our garden of Eden is located in what is technically known as a ‘Backward Area’. The natural corollary to this is that most of the technological advances that we take for granted, are in short supply here. And one of the amenities in NO supply, is that of a dentist!

So why have I now brought in this new character on my stage? Simple – the man in question had been to the local dentist!

Back up here for a minute – if there is no dentist on the scene, then where did one materialize from so abruptly?!

Elementary dear Watson – it’s the local equivalent of the dear doc that we are referring to.

And just who might that be?

Well let’s see – what do you need to extract a tooth?

Anesthesia and a pair of pliers?

Don’t forget the strong set of arms.

That too.

So?

Hmmmm – let me see……

Come on slow coach. Who lives right next to us who fits the bill?

You mean……?!!

Yup – got it in one – the local blacksmith!!

Do you really mean to tell me that that poor man had gone to get a tooth extracted from the local blacksmith??!!

No wonder he howled!

No! No! you’ve got it all backwards……….

……….Excuse me Mr. Holmes, will you please butt out and leave me to tell my story?

So where was I? Oh yes – the peculiar person meandering towards us, totally sozzled (an inelegant word but appropriate nevertheless) and spitting blood (yes – that was the strange colour). But more than that, what caught our attention was the fact that he really did bear a striking resemblance to the said earlier Gorilla owing to the very simple fact that not one but BOTH his cheeks were swollen!

Now curiosity is oft hidden behind many a guise. And in the hills one quickly learns to adopt many pretenses or else one will stay uninformed and therefore un-entertained. So – donning the hypocritical expressions of extremely concerned neighbours, we descended from our vantage point with amazing alacrity (lest he pass us by before we could surround him) to accost our strange apparition. Solicitousness oozed out of every pore as we enquired after his health.

The reply was an extremely garbled one that sounded vaguely like, “oone glut daa kaal hiya.”

Were we deterred in our quest for the truth? Not on your life! Here before us was a living mystery. What more could one ask for in the wilderness of silence? So off we set in hot pursuit of the puzzle. Further gentle, caring questions, however, only elicited the same gobbledygook, “oone glut daa kaal hiya.”

Now there is only so much that one can take of endless repetition. The façade of philanthropy was quickly eroding with each repetition and we were fast approaching the point of contemplating using brute force to extract the information (after all – he had already had one extraction. What difference would another one make?) when yet another neighbor appeared on the scene.

Not even Santa Claus could have met with the degree of affection and enthusiasm that the dearly beloved next-door did! Quicker than the eye could follow, we had pounced upon him and to our everlasting delight, he proved to be the fount of information that we had been seeking. This is what he had to say:

Our incoherent oaf was in the shape he was in for two very simple reasons. The first was that he had got himself ‘stinking drunk’ (inelegant but supremely appropriate as I mentioned before) because he knew he had to get a tooth extracted and had prepared for the same by drinking copious quantities of alcohol in lieu of the anesthesia that does not exist in our story.

Now, (second reason) whilst this was a strategy to be definitely applauded, the down side of his devious devilishness was that he had failed to inform anyone as to which tooth needed to be extracted! To compound his colossal idiocy, in his state of drunken fuzziness, he pointed to the wrong one!

The blacksmith, in all innocence, therefore proceeded with the extraction, only to find that the tooth in question was not as easily extractable as he had anticipated. Undeterred, he set one foot elegantly against the patient’s chest, balanced himself, as he had learnt to do in his profession, and set to with a will. Much to his delight, his efforts paid dividends and he felt the recalcitrant sliver give ever so slightly. Encouraged by this progress, he paused to catch his breath, spit on his hands and get a firmer grip on his implement. As he set to with a greater enthusiasm, however, to his surprise, he found his foot being dislodged and was further distracted by the sight of his patient frantically flapping his arms.

Frowning in a disapproving fashion at this unprofessional conduct oh his patient’s part, he paused to glance at him enquiringly, only to find his foot being thrust aside unceremoniously, as a consequence of which he now found himself in the unbecoming position of having to flail his own arms to keep his balance, and having failed to do so, landing up flat on his back in the most undignified position!

Now even a blacksmith has his self respect. Getting up, the said expert brushed himself off and descended upon his hapless victim with a ferocious frown. Quailing, the said hapless victim gestured feebly and attempted an explanation. “wong toof” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Wong toof” he tried again.

Comprehension dawned. “Wrong tooth? But it’s almost out!!”

“Oo somfing”.

“Oh. Ok.” And with perfect equanimity, the said blacksmith turned, picked up his hammer and proceeded to bang the wrong tooth back into place!!

What followed after that was a simple extraction of the correct bad tooth (on the diametrically opposite side).

What we saw was a gorilla spitting blood and muttering, ““oone glut daa kaal hiya.” Which translates rather elegantly into, “Unhone galat daant nikaal diya (He took out the wrong tooth)”!

Talk about reality TV at its finest!!!