There are, broadly, two types of creatures that make a lifestyle out of walking on two legs: birds and humans. I believe that my maid, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the latter, is actually a highly trained ostrich or another of such twiggy legged birds who are proud possessors of a vacant stare and an unshakably thick air.
This is not the wild surmise of an individual desperately trying to make sense of the world around her. Although I am. Desperately trying. From what I’ve heard, in ways more than one.
About the maid-ostrich association, it is a conclusion I have drawn from experiments repeated more than once, always yielding consistent results:
- I point out to her that she hasn’t cleaned the counter under the stove. She gives me a glassy stare, cocks (or hens) her head, blinks a number of times and then proceeds to clean the counter around the stove.
- I show her a utensil which bears traces of last night’s dinner. She asks me in a high-pitched voice that resembles a bird squawk trying to be a bird song: Will four chapattis be enough for the evening?!
- I ask her why she didn’t dust behind the television. She asks me if four chapattis will be enough for the evening.
- I bring to her notice the fact that she was late coming for work today as well. “Will four chapattis be enough for the evening?”, she squawks.
If that’s not a pattern, Britney Spears sings. Cognitively capable beings do not respond in such a manner. I came up with different questions. She could at least try to come up with different answers. Of course, the picture would change in its entirety if she were a highly trained ostrich. So an ostrich she will be, highly trained. And if you’re trying to work out what that makes me, stop right there. I’m sure you have clothes to fold or something to stuff into something else.
1 comment:
fun. but i don't want to say a word about bai's because after ages i've got a good one. don't want to jinx it. i feel your pain tho.
Post a Comment