Confessions of a compulsive gambler
In the movie, Shatranj Ke Khiladi, based on a short story by Munshi Premchand, the king of Awadh, Wajid Ali Shah, drowsy with opium and ‘ganja’ leads a decadent, gluttonous life, revelling in debauchery, drowning himself in sensual pleasures of dance, music and quail fights with scant respect for matters of state and impervious to the lot of his suffering people in 1856. His courtiers, Mirza and Mir, following suit are indifferent and callous landlords, fanatically obsessed with the game of chess and resort to hiding in a village to continue playing with mindless fervour and intense competitiveness, while deliberately turning a blind eye to their adulterous, neglected wives and the British, who are advancing menacingly towards the city gates, threatening to annex Lucknow with the rest of the British Empire.
The Mahabharata too devotes reams to the devastation and ruin caused by the addiction to the game of dice where Yudhishtira, a compulsive gambler, loses his kingdom and puts his wife, Draupadi, at stake to the cunning Kauravas.
So it is not surprising that these tales of loss and destitution, where metaphorically, historically and in reality fortunes are known to be made and lost in a matter of moments, have created in us a fear and resolve to steer clear of all sorts of similar obsessions and manias. Disdainfully, we tend to rue card players or gamblers who may be prey to these compulsive habits or vices and smugly blame their misfortunes to this weakness of the flesh.
So we are forewarned and forearmed, but wait aminute… what about army wives, posted to remote outposts and isolated cantonments for years on end with no resort to diversions and mode of entertainment? How do the women living in small towns with barely any opportunity to work, pass their days? What about ladies past their prime, who have time on their hands since children have flown the nest and their spouses are anyway wagering on the golf course? Many of them take to playing Bridge, Canasta or Mahjong with friends, betting small amounts just to keep interest alive in the game and to create a spirit of competition.
They look forward to these late afternoon soirees, where after the tedium of morning chores they step out of the house dressed up carefully, cook little tidbits innovatively for the high tea afterwards and thus pass a few hours, not idly in front of the idiot box or gossiping across the wall with nosy neighbours but involved in a game where you need to be mentally agile, constantly alert and remember each move.
I seriously feel, with due respect to the doubters and cynics that enough research is yet to be done in the field of these slow and staid games as an aid to enhancing memory, mental skills and most importantly keeping that dreaded scourge of old age and dementia at bay.
My husband, while proof reading this cocked a brow and said, “You have presented a very good case for your favourite pastime!” I grinned and pleaded guilty as charged.
HOW DO WOMEN LIVING IN SMALL TOWNS PASS THEIR DAYS? WHAT ABOUT LADIES PAST THEIR PRIME, WHO HAVE TIME ON THEIR HANDS SINCE CHILDREN HAVE FLOWN THE NEST?