What is it about teachers that they
can’t switch off after hours? Surely a sales person doesn’t try to sell his
toothpaste to his neighbours in his leisure hours? Nor does a lawyer
cross-examine his friends over dinner. So why do teachers think it is their
business to educate the general public after the school bell has tolled for the
day?
I caught myself doing it recently – and
am duly embarrassed.
I went to Mussoorie to find some peace
and quiet in the hills. The hotel I stayed at was strategically placed,
offering a scenic view. For half a day, I was in seventh heaven – until a huge
group of merry holidayers checked into the rooms next to mine. They were –
well… tourists. They crunched on chips while watching the view, then let the
packet fly away into the hills. They fed the monkeys pizza slices, then ran
away screaming when the monkeys drew nearer to ask for more. They turned the
beautiful terrace into a dhobi ghat, not leaving their underclothes to anyone’s
imagination – wringing out the last dregs of soapy water into the plants. And,
of course, they conversed at decibel levels where I knew every detail of their
lives and sundry other matters within half an hour of their arriving. (“Lovely,
have you had a bath?” Then louder, “Lovely!! Can’t you hear? Have you had a
bath yet?”)
So I should have packed up my book and
my thoughts and retired indoors. But I didn’t. I asked them not to litter, not
to feed monkeys pizza. And while I refrained from commenting on Lovely’s state
of cleanliness, I did give Lovely’s lovely mother an unloving stare. Why is it
that I thought it was my job to preach to this lovely family? Who the heck was
I to do it, anyway? Shouldn’t I have left my teaching back in the classroom?
They took offence, of course. And I can’t blame them.
My second solution was more ‘non-academic’.
I asked the manager for a change of room, and he even obliged. I wish it had
been my first solution.
More recently, at an upmarket boutique,
when an overeager salesgirl came to stand near, very, very near, me (I could
feel her gentle breath on the lobe of my right ear), I informed her how the correct
‘social’ distance is a one-arm distance and even stretched out an arm to
measure it out for her. Hey teacher, at least leave ‘em salesgirls alone!
If I see anyone breaking a queue, or
sending a message when a plane is taxiing for take-off, why is it that I can’t
help but ‘correct’ them? Sometimes I gently teach courier and pizza delivery
boys that they must not ring anyone’s doorbell more than once. I just about
refrain from quoting Shakespeare to them and intoning as dramatically as Iago:
“How poor are they that have not patience!”
Evidently I need a crash course in the
art of minding my own business a little more often in life.
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