I don’t watch much TV. Never have. Only occasionally watch sport or movies, with perhaps an odd Newscast thrown in. Even sport has gradually been squeezed out as my teenage sons’ interest in football has pushed my cricket-watching opportunity to a window of time when I am either not at home or asleep.
Fates, however, conspired a few days back to give me a share of the TV that I had not received in many many years. And I came away thoroughly impressed. While I have been busy not watching, TV has progressed beyond the mundane. It has become educational.
One of the most stirring debates I have seen was between two women on TV that day, on whether bathing in natural milk is more beneficial for the skin or bathing in bathing-cream manufactured by a private company is. I sat engrossed. As the debate between the two heated-up, a secret area in the room, behind the plush sofa they were sitting on, opened up, with, eat your hearts out, two tubs lined up side by side, with a gleaming tap running fresh milk into one and an equally gleaming tap running bathing-cream into the other. And, as normal women would do upon a secret area in the room they were having a heated debate in, opening up and displaying two tubs full of milk and cream, they jumped in and luxuriated.
It was edge-of-the-seat stuff. I sat transfixed. What would the answer be? Not only did I not know the answer, I had never even realised that that was a question one could ask and hold a debate on. Such was my ignorance, I hate to admit.
Anyway, to cut to the chase, I always thought it would be milk. But, guess what? It was the bathing-cream manufactured by a private company that turned out to be the winner. And, to put the issue beyond doubt, they even showed each other their hands immediately after their respective baths. Milk is overrated.
In a land where women routinely bathe in tubs full of milk and bathing-cream manufactured by private comapnies, this was a useful comparison. I am sure numerous women will benefit. Apart from me, of course.
I have seen youngsters use Deo-sprays for several years, mainly my own teenage sons. Never really understood the purpose. Till that fateful day again when I watched TV.
Firstly, I learnt how it should be used. The hand with the spray should be held away from the body in a manner suggesting that the arm has muscles developed to a degree that makes it impossible for it to be bent and the hand, at the end of the arm, brought any closer to the body. Then, one should press the nozzle and start spraying and moving the arm in a graceful circular motion all around in a manner that some of the droplets might accidentally even fall upon the sprayer’s self. Moreover, the entire operation is to be conducted only when a number of people of the opposite sex happen to be passing by. Till then, the holder of the spray to mouth inanities either in an unbuttoned shirt or even without one.
But, I am being superficial here. Let me get to the real point. I actually learned that all other Deo-sprays are full of air. There is only one which has actual Deo. It must be correct. Because another Deo ad came on soon after and said exactly the same thing. About all the other Deos. The other reason we can be certain it is correct is because immediately after spraying oneself in the manner described earlier, the sprayer immediately received tremendous attention from members of the opposite sex. Two of them won’t lie, will they? In fact, the second ad even clarified that the other Deos were full of gas. I wish I was more attentive during the lesson, I mean ad, and checked out which gas it was. Cooking gas prices are going up. Maybe we can use Deo-sprays instead to light a fire of a different kind.
What’s more, the benefits are not limited to education, which, at times, can be theoretical. Watching TV that fateful day has helped in finding solutions to real-life problems as well.
After so many years of married life, my wife and I have settled into a comfortable routine. She shoots down my suggestions without hearing them and I, hers. With the result that our household infrastructure, be it the fridge, the washing machine, or the stove, has grown old and often stops working. But whenever a suggestion is made by one party to replace something, it is immediately shot down by the other.
I was thinking about the fridge door, which has been refusing to shut, when a housemaid came onscreen, and started talking about the family she was working for, their spending habits, their food preferences, and lots more. I was lost in my thoughts of the fridge door and the beer bottles standing in the door and not getting cold, and barely paying attention till the time she said, “when madam says buy, sir says no, when I say buy, sir goes click-click”, indicating that the purchase immediately gets effected on an online portal.
I sat up and pressed the Rewind button. Nothing happened. I had been watching TV. But it did not matter. I had got my answer. My prayers had been answered. The solution had been found.
Now, I must confess that she did not look like a regular Indian housemaid, with her sharp side profile and dress sense. But since she said she was, she must be. This was an ad after all. One has to believe what ads tell you.
I have put out an ad for a housemaid. Including the preferred side-profile and dress-sense expectation.
I now look back on all the wasted years. Years spent not watching TV. There is no saying how much more knowledgeable I would have become if I had put those years to productive use. And we could have hired the housemaid a lot earlier.
I have asked my son to call me as soon as the ad-break begins when he is watching football. Learning never ends.
darkofficehumour 