Habits | K. M. Sukhtankar

`Man is a creature of habit’ my mother often quotes from somewhere. Seriously, this is indeed true. She is compelled to oft repeat this refrain because of my bad habit of severely chewing on my nails. Mother says I first began chewing on my unformed nails with my unformed teeth even before I learnt to drink from the baby bottle. Although I was raised to believe it to be gross I am unable to kick this dreadful habit so lovingly cultivated by me since infanthood.
Whenever I am cheerful or edgy my fingers involuntarily betake themselves to my mouth, observes my friend Bosteanv. When I appeared for my BA examination, to my surprise I found the economics paper to be exceptionally simple. In utter delight I spent three quarters of the time chewing on my nails and failed in economics only because there was no more time left to complete the paper.
Not long ago we were watching India v/s Pakistan cricket match on television. Both, my wife and me are huge fans of the game. India required twenty four runs to win in only two overs. In the first three balls I finished off the nails on my right hand. In the next three balls my left hand nails were devoured. There were still six more balls to go and nothing  more left at hand to munch on. With our attention fixated on the tv, I do not remember exactly when I began to chomp on my wife’s fingers. In the next three balls I had nibbled away the nails on her right hand.
`Give me your left hand, do’ I yelled and she faithfully obeyed as though in a trance, our eyes not once leaving the screen. The match was over now when she shrieked, probably in horror at the sight of her mangled fingers. Her hands remained swathed in a bandage for over a month. Sadly for her this time I had bitten on more than I could chew!
Now it isn’t as if my wife is devoid of any personal habits. In fact she is a chronic somnambulist. Whereas biting on nails may not really cause harm to life or property the consequences of sleepwalking especially at night can be dangerously life threatening, observes Bosteanv. Strangely enough while she frequently ventures on her nocturnal excursions on no occasion has there ever been even the slightest threat to her life. And this singularly exceptional worriment keeps me up on many a night. To some this submission may seem as if I am eagerly awaiting some calamity to befall her. Far from it this was just a thought I shared and should not be construed otherwise. To recount one incident, it was our wedding night. I awoke for an instant but did not see her beside me. Perhaps she is in the bathroom I thought, turned on my side and went right back to sleep.  Next morning however there was a commotion in the house. My brand new bride was found missing. How awkward!  I nervously telephoned my in laws and lo! I was casually informed that she had noctambulated herself back there.
`She walked back to your place that is fine but how did you take her in so late at night and did not deem it necessary to inform us at once?’ I sternly enquired of my father in law.
`And who was disposed to do the needful? We all go sleepwalking at night. I have no idea where I was at the time. Her mother opened the door in her sleep, daughter walked in and mother walked out. Now who else was awake and here to inform? He explained as I listened dumbfounded.
Now, not every habit is necessarily bad. Mahatma Gandhi arose daily at four a.m. and bathed with cold water whether rain or shine, I have read somewhere. Bosteanv advised me to develop this excellent habit as it would help keep my head cool. Without wasting time, the next morning I began sanitizing myself with cold water and by the third evening I was punctured.
`How did this happen? What did you do to congest both lungs?’My doctor rued.
` I bathed with cold water’.
`On whose advice?’
`Why, Gandhiji did so in all seasons’.
`That’s what made him a Mahatma. If you do so, your Atma will soon depart upwards ’. I paid Doctor three hundred rupees thanked him and returned home all the wiser.
`Hey, look at us man, all good habits here. Early to bed, early to rise, no nail biting…’ Tommy (my pet dog) sneered on seeing me.
`Yes it’s about time I learnt from you’. I snapped.
`Oh yes but… there is one, just one little bad habit’. Tommy whispered in my ear.
`And pray what may that be?’
`Wait… I’ll show you’. Tommy said as he jigged towards the lamp post.

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Indian Literature Review | The satirical short fiction is translated from the original Konkani article by K.M.Sukhtankar that appeared in the Gulab Konkani monthly magazine.

 

K. M. Sukhtankar writes on Indian Review.