Our friends back in Mumbai keep wondering why my wife and I ever shifted to small town like Dahanu. They ask us how we must pass our time in a sleepy seaside town and we retort that we get opportunities to do many fun things.
Like getting robbed.
Yes! It happened one day, in the middle of the night (yeah, I know it sounds odd….day-night) Anyway, I was fast asleep dreaming pleasant dreams of Bipasha Basu and me in a luxury Spa and…um…..well… whatever….. And I heard a soft click. At first I thought it was the sound of the door opening and my wife entering the spa with a gun…THAT woke me up.
And then I realized that someone had just closed our bedroom door. I checked my watch and found my wife and kids fast asleep. Well, I was half asleep and I assumed the breeze must have closed the door. So I went back to sleep.
Well, the next morning we woke up and my wife suddenly pointed out the closed door. I told her about the previous night’s event (minus the dream).
“We’ve been burgled,” she screamed, the woman in her promptly exerting herself. In response, the man in me smiled patiently and told her not to worry and that the breeze may have closed the door. Then equally patiently, she pointed out that the breezes in Dahanu had not yet become capable of releasing the latch which keeps the door open against the wall. Always the Practical One, the wife.
This opened a new line of thought. So I sprang from the bed, opened the door deftly and immediately flailed my arms and legs about in a series of scary du-so-ku kung fu moves. This was partly because I was expecting an armed burgler.
It was also because in my hurry, I had tripped over my own pyjamas and almost fallen on my nose.
So then we got around trying to work out the more important but less exciting aspects of the burglary like what was missing and how he entered the house. Apparently, our man had sawed a hole through the metal grill of our balcony and entered the house. And guess what he stole.
Bags. Yes, four empty bags. We were scratching our heads about this until the next day when we heard that a gang of thieves had broken into 3 or 4 houses in the same area and made off with a lot of loot. Like morons, they then discovered that they had left home on their expedition without the necessary bags to carry the loot in. Maybe they had thought they could always pick up some at the local Walmart or something. Then they hit upon this bright idea that we would instead, kindly supply them with the same for free. Talk about luck.
Anyway, the incident made us realize how slip-shod our existing grills were. It also made my wife go into some kind of acute paranoia. She then started suspecting all movable and non-movable entities of wanting to enter our house and loot us. And the comments by ‘friendly, sympathetic’ visitors about how those dacoits could have killed us all in our beds before looting us didn’t help.
She then decided that as regards our house, more like Fort Knox, the better. Heads must roll, she opined and so the existing grills, she said, must be disposed with on an immediate basis. Plans were drawn to replace them with new state-of-the-art grills made of metal rods of so-and-so thickness, welded at exactly so-and-so points to leave exactly so-and-so space so as not to allow the smallest sized human head to get through. 98.62% of our daily conversations involved grills (the other 1.38% involved other possible security measures) Soon I started seeing Grills in my dreams and I started getting worried that my wife will leave her Anesthesiology practice and take up the Grill Business.
She had even started considering electronic burglar alarm systems but I reminded her gently that we have power cuts in Dahanu and we could always consider it later, after the grills were made. Just as I was considering placing the order for the night-vision glasses and laser-sighting self-loading automatic machine guns, the Grill-Man reported that the grills were finally made and that he would come and fix them up.
And so ladies and gentlemen, now all the windows and doors of our house (about 10 in all) sport brand new, rock solid metal grills totally weighing…..guess……believe it or not, 1000 kg! That’s ONE TON of cast iron hanging on to our external walls making me wonder whether all that any aspiring burglar would have to do in future would be to just gently pull on those grills and the walls supporting them will simply collapse outwards with its weight.
On the burglar.
Now guys, a question. What does an ophthalmologist like me who is inane enough to leave the Big City (Mumbai) and its attractions and set up shop in a sleepy, rural town thirst for? Give up? OK. It's Variety & Diversity. Now when I say Variety & Diversity, I mean challenging clinical cases that will slosh the old cerebrum around a bit in its brain-brine and shake it out of its somnolence. When I say V. & D. what I don't include in its scope is ..........MATCHMAKING!
I can hear you recoil in horror. I recoiled exactly in the same way. As a kind hearted man myself, the thought of being an accomplice in a crime which will deprive some unsuspecting brother of his freedom and award him the Life Sentence, gives me the guilty goose pimples too! And yet I was an unwilling accomplice in this heinous act!
It started innocently enough with the main schemer of the crime, a good looking young woman (N.B. "all that glitters is not gold!") calling on me at my OPD. She told me that she had not come for a check up, but for some 'advice'. Furtively, she indicated that she wanted my assistant to leave the room.
Sensing danger, I casually felt for the Magnum 007.3 gun that normally hangs in its holster somewhere near my armpit and tickles me. Not finding it in its usual place (damn that cleaning lady), I nonchalantly opened my desk-drawer so she could get a view of the fake syringe that I normally use to scare small kids into eating their vegetables.
Anyway, I observed with bated breath as she slowly pulled out from her purse, a small ....no, not a gun, but a photo! I took it in my hands to have a look.
It was a male, that much I could tell; no self respecting lady would allow herself to get photographed with THAT MUCH hair on her forearms. And face.
But what a face! Each feature was a definite nominee for the award for the most grotesque eyesore, the one that took the cake was the pair of bulging, bullfrog like eyes glaring belligerently back at the observer, conveying a feeling of profound animosity at the photographer in particular and at the world in general. I was tempted to ask for a copy. The National Geographic Channel would have paid a bundle to have this photo in their possession.
My guest explained that this was a 'shaadi ka rishta' that had arrived for her younger sister.
I stared at his coarse features in fascination. I also found myself admiring this guy who, with a mug like that, actually had the guts to go out into the marriage market and then expect to come back with a trophy!
I realized that the lady was drawing my attention to his glasses. She told me that the matter had almost been finalized, when an alert and observant relative of the girl had pointed out that he wore glasses. The point had been noted and deliberated for hours among the wise elders in the girl's family and they had very astutely concluded that the boy was completely blind.
I was tempted to point out that in a face resembling that of a Gila Monster, they had but noticed only his glasses. That left me somewhat confused as to who was actually blind.
The story gets more interesting. As we know, Gila Monsters are also God's creation and for every male G.M. crawling around, there often lurks around the corner, his female counterpart. Something about this reptile-man had made its impression on my visitor's sister and she was convinced that this was her long awaited soul mate and as an aspirant for this post, he stood alone.
The bright, budding bride had argued that the glasses didn't look thick enough as to render him completely blind. But The Elders were convinced of the contrary and had remained adamant on their stand. Tempers had flared and Dark Clouds of Conflict had gathered overhead. Both parties had threatened dire consequences. Then somehow wiser counsel had prevailed. It was decided to defer the matter to the appropriate authority with experience in the field and I, being the 'Family Ophthalmologist', was the unanimous choice.
Since I was married, AND to their known knowledge, I did not have any personal interest in the girl, they probably felt that my impartial judgment could be relied upon. So here was I, acting in the capacity of an authority, endeavoring to make a judgment on whether the bozo in the photo was indeed visually handicapped enough to be unable to deliver the goods (no pun intended!)
I asked her if she could get him to me for a checkup. She replied that as the matter was a delicate one, that would not be possible.
So it was up to me and all those years of hard, rigorous training at Mumbai’s KEM and Sion Hospitals, to make that decision.
I wore a grim expression on my face and examined the photo from all angles, all the time mumbling 'Ah, hmmm, aha' and making similar intelligent sounding noises. All the facts about pathological myopia, amblyopia, retinal detachment, rectal haemorrhoids, priapism and other God forsaken diseases raced through my mind. After some minutes of intense brainstorming, EUREKA! I had the diagnosis!
It had dawned on me that if this specimen was capable of focusing on the camera taking his photo, he probably had at least enough vision to be able to recognize his would-be wife and her demented relatives from at least a short distance.
I triumphantly shot my cuffs and pronounced the verdict, "He's OK". I added the necessary disclaimer about my inability to give a confirmed diagnosis until I had examined him in person, a possibility which I hoped would never arise.
And so ladies and gentlemen, thanks to yours truly, a Mr. and Mrs. Gila Monster are honeymooning somewhere in nuptial bliss.
Disclaimer: All of the above facts are imaginary and bear no resemblance to any human or reptile, living, dead or in hibernation. So don’t go trying to finding a way to come here and confirming the truth of the story.
And if you do come anyway, relax, for you will be welcome at our house.
As long as you don’t pull on the grills.
