Sep 1, 2012

Soaked in Many Ways

(This is my unofficial 100th post. Officially 98th, since two of my posts are kept hidden)

‘What do you think of when you hear the words Soak No More?’

Well, when I read the question for the first time, I was totally clueless without any genuine thought occurring in my mind. Later, reading it one more time, something very curious popped up in my mind and now I am laughing at it over and over again, on a silly joke emerged out because of a phrase in my native tongue, which meant almost the term ‘Soak No More’.

You ask me what it was. But, don’t curse me if this joke was not as much enjoyable to you as I felt it. The fun of jokes differs from cultures to cultures and from languages to languages. Well, I am not going to make your curiosity level raise to more heights over a reasonless joke. It was related to a teacher who was very friendly with her students. When she seemed as if she was not going to be towed down to some of the demands put forward by her students, something related to a pleasure trip or so, the students began to flatter her with sweetened words, and she retorted calmly, 

‘‘Darlings, which soap are you trying now to soak me in? I know your plays! Don’t soak more! ’’

I don’t know how many of you have completely grasped the fun element. In Malayalam language, to apply soap means in an informal sense, to flatter for some purpose. So finding her students doing the same, she trapped them all with that tit-for-tat kind of verbal retort.

Now what comes next to my mind when reading the phrase one more time carefully is my own life as a bachelor. As a bachelor who lives by his own in a city, I have to do entire household activities including washing my clothes. 

I don’t afford the pain of washing my clothes every day. Instead, just like any other lazy bachelor, I too keep them on a corner as a heap, so that by the end of week a mountain of dresses would be formed there. The heap of dresses waiting to be drenched is a sufficient reason for my calm on weekends to get spoiled. If by chance, I miss my washing activity on a given weekend, the next Sunday what waits for me in the corner of my room is a much bigger mountain. In such situations, Surf products often act as the only refuge. Nowadays I used to resort to the service of the laundry people who function close to my door step. But one of the disadvantages of their service is that they take much time to return the dresses. They often cite the reason of cloudy atmosphere, rain, and lack of employees for my dresses getting delayed after cleansing.

The laundry man has recently appointed a new chap there. He is a jovial character, and the sad part is that most often his joviality is enjoyable for him only. His way of talking, treating customers, and doing services have invited a lot of criticism from their potential clients. I have seen him many times involved in heated arguments with his busy customers, by pointing out the same reasons for not returning the clothes within the agreed time. Once, I also lose my temper at him over failing to do his service in a proper manner while returning my clothes. I remember my voice was so loud at that time, and even the neighboring shop owners popped out their heads through the windows to know from where the harsh voice was coming. Last weekend, when I went to him to give my clothes, he was on phone talking to someone. Like me, there were some more customers waiting for him to finish his telephone conversation, but he gave only the least notice to us. From the way he talked over the phone, I guessed that it might have been his girlfriend; whom he had been trying to soak in his love coated sweet words.

I was a frequent cigarette smoker till some three years back. My long term readers know how much pain I suffered to quit the habit. At that time, the rain and cigarette smokes together could create an ecstatic experience. Whenever there poured rain, I put on my over coat, and accelerated my bike by completely soaking wet in rain towards a wayside shop where cigarettes were sold. I wonder now, how immature I was at that time to feel it as a heavenly experience to be covered in smoke while it was raining. Frankly, now I don’t find it as an interesting experience to be soaked in smoke like that. Smoke No More!


  1. Tom...that was a fantabulous take on the theme...a simple down-to-earth blog that leaves the readers entranced...:)Enjoyed the humor!
    I am glad you quit smoking...and smoke of the rain, reminds me of Victoria African language--they call it-- Smoke that thunders!
    All the best!

    1. Hello Panchalidi,

      Thank you very much for your comment.My simple down to earth post is now elated to a higher position with this commeny of youts. And thanks for giving me dat general info about Victoria Falls.


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