Teach yourself some manners
One way to do that is by copying the Japanese tea ceremony shown in the web-series, Shogun
It’s not di«cult.
Last Sunday, for instance, I embraced the tea ceremony in true Shogun spirit.
I was having my coee-tea with the morning papers when Wife joined me across the table with a half-empty cup of sand tea.
I bowed, and said to her, a gentle smile on my lips, “Lady Sampath, I’m honoured to share this beautiful Sunday morning with you. Let me pour you some more of your rejuvenating tea from the land of the Fremen.”
Wife reacted as if I was about to pour Sanifresh into her cup. My mother jumped up and snatched the tea pot from me and set it down at a safe distance.
My feelings were hurt, but I said, “O fair mother of mine, how elegantly you moved the tea pot beyond the reach of your handsome rst-born!”
“Ennada sollura?” Mother frowned, and looked at Wife, who shrugged and shook her head, as if to say, ‘don’t look at me’.
Then the doorbell rang. Kattabomman ran to get it. “It’s the guard,” he announced. “He’s asking for you.”
“Sir, aapne gaadi tedi park ki hai,” the guard said. He wanted the car shifted immediately. Apparently, a neighbour had sent a complaint to the Society manager, with photographic evidence.
“But that tiny space can anyway accommodate only one vehicle,” I said. “Even if I move my car, it would make no dierence.”
“Rules are rules, sir,” the guard said.
“I told you not to park there, didn’t I?” Wife said, making my already rising BP spike further.
“Are you nuts?” I exploded at the poor guard. “Every day that moron from J block parks his pickup truck occupying three slots in sheltered parking and no one says a word. One nanometre of my car bumper is outside the line and all hell breaks loose? What a bunch of jokers! ”
“Sir, if you want, speak to the manager yourself.”
“Just move the car,” Mother said. “No use yelling at this man.”
“Why should I?” I fumed. “If we can’t even organise free and fair parking, how will we organise free and fair elections?”
“Please calm down, Sampath-sama,” Wife said, trying to keep a straight face. “Perhaps you would permit me to point out that the man in front of you is Rampal-dono, a celebrated warrior of our urban village’s security forces. He means no ill-will and is undeserving of your lordship’s harsh utterances.”
“I don’t — ”
“You have always been a rule-abiding resident,” she went on. “Now I humbly ask that his lordship reposition his carbon-emitting chariot in service of a greater cause.”
“What greater cause?” “A peaceful Sunday.”
“I’d rather commit seppuku,” I said. “But I guess I can’t just yet. I have to watch the series nale
rst.”
the author of this satire, is Social Aairs Editor, The Hindu.