Old habits that just don’t die

Old people have a way of creating a little world in their bedroom. I recently visited an elderly couple and noticed the assortment of boxes, books, cards, calendars and medicines occupying every nook and cranny of their room. One table was full of jars of all shapes and sizes, stacked in a ubiquitous fashion. There was chooran, gur, shakkar, peppermint, Isabgol, roasted phoolmakhana, biscuits, mithai, rusks, dry fruits etc. in the room.

While at tea, auntie said that she had a tummy ache and asked the servant for Isabgol. He said that there seemed to be some red coloured susris (flour-beetles) in the jar of Isabgol in the kitchen and that it would be better to discard it and get a fresh pack. She said, "The other half of the pack is lying on our bedroom table. Bring it and let me check if that too has susris."

The husband looked up from above his reading glasses and said unassumingly, "I did notice some in it a few days ago, so I didn't have it."

That was it!!! "You saw susris in it a few days ago? Every night I have the Isabgol in front of you. Why you don't stop me?” 

He most conveniently switched to the, 'I can't hear anything' mode and buried himself in his newspaper with an innocent face. His hearing aid worked well when he wanted it too. Most of the time, he played 'deaf'.

She fumed and ranted over all the sacrifices she had made for him in life. Conking an ear her way he said casually, “Did you say something?” “Yes, I did! Shouldn’t you have cautioned me about the susris in the Isabgol?”

“Hmm …” He merely proceeded to serve himself some more pakoras. Auntie shouted, "What am I saying? For all you care, I could die, eating these susris. If you had seen them, why didn’t you warn me?"

He put on his ‘holier than thou’ face saying, "These pakoras are delicious. Can I have some more?" She was fuming by now. "Why didn't you tell me that there were susris in the Isabgol? You know I have it every night. Don't you …?"

By now I was in splits of laughter. Selective hearing was an art that he had mastered to perfection. They argued at every meal. Her eagerness to overfeed him, and his failing appetite never found common ground. He conveniently heard her when he wanted to; otherwise well ... just blame the lousy old hearing aid!

Neither of them would change … old habits die hard, if ever. As they say in Punjabi, “Panchaan di gall sir matthe; par parnala othhe da othhe!” (The wisdom of the elders is appreciated; but the gutter shall stay its own course!)

She continued her unending endeavour of sixty years to reform him … and the panacea as always, was the newspaper that provided cover to his red face and less than perfect ears!

This piece has been published in The Tribune as the Middle piece on 09.04.2024. It can be viewed here: https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/musings/old-habits-that-just-dont-die-608781