DON'T BELIEVE HIM...HE ALWAYS SAYS THAT!

 


We are chatting away at my sister’s place, when she gives me freshly made goodies to taste.

“How’s it?” is the eager question.

“Ummm…mmmm…mmm…delicious…mmmm…scrumptious!!...” I say with a heaven ward blissful glance…

But before she can bask in delight…there comes a voice from the other side of the table…

“ OH Don’t believe him, …he always says that – you see he is a sales guy, he will never criticise”
and there is laughter all around, drowning out my sounds of protest.

Soon, the food is wiped off the table over great conversations that only happen with the best of family & friends…..but I am still thinking ..

I am saying to myself, am I a people pleaser who doesn’t want to point out mistakes or badly assembled recipes …just to stay goody goody?...

Is this a result of my long career in sales?  …being the over friendly guy in town?

I mean, there have been instances in my life where folks called me “a salesman to the core” mistaking my politeness and implying “… don’t believe him...”.

Hmm…anyway...hmm

I am still tossing and turning this in my head while I park the car outside our home...and the voice in my head goes on and on…

“Really – ARE YOU A PEOPLE PLEASER??!!??”

I plop into the comfort sofa in our living room, in deep thought.

Does our manifest behaviour have deep roots in our past?

... the things sometimes only we know that we have gone thru…?

Very often, there is questionable rationality in justifications etc…

...its just how it is, to be accepted without judgement.  

I don’t know why, my thoughts go back to my student days at the engineering college. Staying away from home in an on-campus hostel meant you often ate at the hostel “mess” dining hall.

A figure in white shirt and pyjamas comes to my mind…balding head...moving around the dining hall with buckets (!!) of curries & rice …serving us unlimited helpings. It was a gentleman we called Fatale Mama (uncle) – he was the kitchen contractor tasked with feeding us!

You see, you value home food more (and the love that goes into making it) when you stay away from home…but wait…

 ..,just because you miss home doesn’t mean you are short of love…and so back to the dining hall..

My almost first interaction with him was when I asked for a second helping…

“Mama. Some more rice please” I call out….and he comes with the bucket of rice & serves me one big spoonful…  I cover my plate with my hand, a gesture conveying that its enough.
To my utter surprise … he moves my hands away and serves me another spoonful…with twinkling eyes, saying

“never have just one spoonful…always two… that’s the way you will prosper”

“…besides you guys are young, you could do with more food, how will you have the strength to study otherwise?”   

It’s very strange when I am narrating this to you…I am recalling a ‘random service provider’ from my past with so much emotion…

But tell you what, I think I have nailed it…the origins of my inability to criticise or judge the taste of the food served to me.

You see, it’s the gratitude that overwhelmingly masks the taste & flavour of everything.

And anything served with love and affection tastes……yumm…mmmmh…mmm blissfully scrumptious!

I don’t know if its good or bad but that’s the reason for my ‘handicap’.




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