Tall Musings

One fine evening, I was making my way dreamily to the drawing room from the kitchen. Having just devoured a few sweets, my sense of contentment was complete. Unfortunately, my smooth progress was impeded by a collision between my head and the door frame. “AMMA...” I screamed, as a moment later, my brain decided to experience the sharp pain of the impact. Stars were circling around my head. Swearing, I rubbed my scalp and began grumbling about the sub-normal heights of the doors to my family members. They had all been summoned to the scene of the mishap, by my shriek of anguish. “It’s because of your arrogance, you should be more humble”, advised my hard-hearted brother. Mother nodded in agreement, enquiring anxiously, “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” Father chided, “You should be more careful. Always remember to stoop down at the low doors”. I sighed. This was turning out to be a regular happening now.
If you belong to those elite group of humans who are regarded as being taller than ordinary mortals are meant to be, read on...you will surely empathize with me. For the uninitiated (read “people of normal height”), I hope this will give a peek into our lives, a view from incredibly lofty heights...
Well, I measure about 172 cms (5’9”) vertically. Throughout my life, I have wondered whether my height is a boon or a bane and till today have not reached a conclusion. It will fetch you numerous, imaginative nicknames- giraffe, thotti, kudakkambi, beanpole are a few samples. If you happen to meet relatives or friends after a hiatus, they will invariably exclaim, “ How tall you’ve grown! Your parents will have a tough time finding a boy for you!” Although their concern is touching, it exasperates you no end. The last 10 years’ experience has taught me to expect this query, listen and respond to it with an impassive face.
All the comforts and infrastructure in this world are intended for dwaves. As mentioned above, you have to be humility personified to pass unharmed through many doors. If you are unfortunate enough to be travelling standing in a bus, utmost care has to be taken to avoid damage to your brain. I discovered the existence of a lamp on the ceiling of KSRTC buses towards the back, the hard way, when the bus went over every rut and hump on our well-maintained roads. On the other hand, if you are travelling seated, you will require treatment for sore knees by the time you arrive at your destination. Mind you, you will be cramped for want of sufficient space between seats in whatever mode of conveyance you employ- car, bus, plane or auto.
My favourite posture while reading or watching tv at home is thus : sit on a chair, stretch my legs and place them comfortably on the sofa on the other side of the room. The only drawback is, mother will have infinite reasons to walk across just then and my cosy reclining will be disturbed frequently. My stretching of arms finds no favour with her either. Both annoyed and amused, she declares on such occasions, “Only an abode of gigantic dimensions will suit you!”
Your extraordinary height also brings out the creative best in your kith and kin. My uncle often remarks, “ You’ll make a phenomenal basketball player. You can collect the ball and fling it through the basket countless times. The basket will be miles beneath you.” or “This girl will go to the giraffe’s cage in the zoo, compare her height with it and say smugly, “Not as tall as me, eh?” or “You know why ISRO recruited you? Now they can dispense with rockets to launch satellites. You can inject them into orbit directly.” Then there are occasions when the fact that you tower over normal people inconveniences them, albeit unintentionally. For instance, you will hinder the clear view of others, if you happen to be seated or standing in front of them, while enjoying a stage performance. My short cousin has had to remind me to be considerate of the disparity in our heights- when I hit the shuttle out of her bounds while playing badminton or my strides were too long for her to keep in pace, while taking a stroll together.
Once, during a family pilgrimage, the driver of our vehicle looked plainly disbelieving when I informed him that I was a student of 8th standard. He queried, “Have you failed in some class?” , much to my mortification, but to my cousins’ immense amusement. I also held the dubious distinction of consistently making up the rear of the row during our school assembly. Till recently, people generally found it hard to digest that I was elder to my brother by only a year. You see, he hardly reached upto my shoulders. Thankfully, a few years ago, the growth hormones in his body commenced their activities and public opinion has been altered. Despite not being a Complan girl, my physical growth was swift, leaving me to utilize the fridge and wardrobe at home to keep track of it. For other kids, I was the benchmark. I got accustomed to such claims- some one will announce proudly, “ My head is on level with her ears” or somebody else will despair, “ I don’t reach upto her shoulders even!”
Every dark cloud has a silver lining, however, and being tall is no exception. You will easily stand out in any crowd. Many will be grateful to you for shortening their search while looking for you amongst a group. You can perform such tasks as extracting objects from the topmost shelf or pluck mangoes or flowers from unreachable branches with consummate ease. These are daunting to ordinary people who have to rely on ladders and other equipment to accomplish them. Even if there are huge crowds at temples, you can enjoy the privilege of good darshan of the deities, from the very back also. You will often be the reference or identification for others. People will say, “ That tall girl’s parents” or “ I mean the one next to the tall girl”.
All said, I am quite at peace and take heart from the fact that “I AM A TOWERING PERSONALITY”, literally atleast!

From Chennai to Sullurpet

"Train number 2436 to Sullurpet will leave shortly from platform number 13”, announced the familiar voice at Chennai central’s suburban railway station, prompting me to hoist my bag and rush to platform number 13. Finding the ladies’ compartment, I scrambled into it, placed my bag on the luggage rack and dropped into the only vacant seat, resigning myself to two and a half hours of imminent boredom. The whistle blew, the train pulled out of the station and I marvelled yet again at the furious pace at which electric trains accelerated.

The lady sitting next to me (munching ground nuts and phone plugged to her ears) was regarding me with a bored expression and soon turned away, evidently dismissing me as uninteresting. Two toddlers, one enthusiastically looking out of the window, and the younger, reclining on his mother’s lap, set up a loud howl of demand, when a vendor with snacks walked past, shouting out his wares. Sadly, their mother had other ideas. A kindly lady, seated adjacent to the family, resolved the crisis, by proffering her own purchase (some crisp snack) to the kids.

I looked around the compartment, vaguely taking in the social, economic and age diversity among my co-passengers- aged mothers, their twenty-something daughters beaming proudly at their young offspring, college students chatting and laughing with their friends, school children, attired in uniforms of various colours, carrying bags that would put seasoned weight lifters to shame...most of them had the orange kanakaambaram flowers decorating their plaited hair and the yellow of turmeric paste was clearly visible on their faces and hands..

The train slowed down as quickly as it had picked up speed and came to a screeching halt at a station. A mass of humanity moved into and out of the train, jostling each other in the process. All the seats being filled up, the new entrants of all ages immediately dropped to the floor and settled there. Atleast 4 people were settled on seats with spaces intended for 2 and I thanked God for creating humans with such sisterly love. A 4-year-old young man was voicing his protest loudly against the humiliating treatment handed out to him by his callous mother, making him sit in a ladies’ coach. His mother was busy conversing with a neighbour, a just- acquired acquaintance.

As I watched fascinated, the steady stream of vendors continued- oranges, guavas, murukku, samosas, mixture, pakoda, nuts, biscuits and what not. Everyone appeared to be prepared to buy everything on offer. The unceasing consumption of eatables of wide variety and rapid socialising were carried on with vigour by the newcomers who replaced those who disembarked at the stations that came and went. The tradesmen, men with admirable athleticism and acrobatic skills, balanced their baskets on their heads, while expertly weaving their ways among their customers (crowded on the seats and squatting on the floors ) and their voluminous shopping bags. The tiny, juicy oranges (sold incredibly cheap) and the hot, yummy samosas found many takers, as did the ever popular ground nuts and popcorn. People were very courteous, willingly sharing their purchases with their new-found friends. Indeed, the brisk trade going on before my astonished eyes would have aroused envy in the owners and salesmen of even the most-profitably run eateries and restaurants.

An elderly lady, seated facing me grinned, revealing her toothless gum, and enquired,” Time evvalavu ma?” As I glanced at my watch and replied, she ventured, “nee enga pore?” Then she proceeded to narrate to me, all about how she was going to visit her son for the day and how she will be returning by the evening train.

Before I knew, the clock had wound forward by two hours, the crowd had thinned out considerably and I beheld the name board of Sullurpet station. As I extracted my luggage and alighted from the train, my mind was filled with remembrances of the eventful, if not entertaining train journey I had just experienced. I’m still astounded by the ease with which the simple folk fraternised with each other and became comrades, virtually exchanging their life stories and also, the hugely successful trade carried out by the numerous tradesmen. To this day, this intriguing train journey remains etched in my memory.