An English Experience
“Seven days ago, I had been a perfectly normal happy man, immersed in my work of discovering the new idiosyncrasies of Bertie for the sake of my beloved fans. Now no-one will talk to me.”
Through the closed door, I could distinctly hear the man lamenting to my secretary Molly, as she clicked the door open to usher the next patient into my chamber. A reflex action, just like what Pavlov’s dog had been used to, my hand involuntarily reached out for the register kept on the left side of my desk.
Surprise was what was in store and it took some time for the vision unfolding before my eyes, to register in my mind. The next patient was none other than the Monarch of humour, Sir P G Wodehouse himself!
The door opened and in walked the great man himself, into my chamber and sat down in the chair reserved for the patients. What is the great man doing in India and that too in my chamber, I thought bewildered.
A polite English “Good Morning” later, he leaned forward, in a conspiratorial sort of way, apparently trying to restrict the conversation to only between the two of us.
“I need to disclose something to you. Lately, I have started behaving like, Jeeves”.
It took some time for the great man’s words to register in my head. Already I had become a little weak in my upper storey because of the excitement of having got the opportunity of meeting the master story-teller, the ageless humourist, in person.
In a whispering voice, Mr Wodehouse continued, “U will be surprised to note that I have even applied for the position of a butler that was advertised in the Sunday morning daily because in my mind I couldn’t think of another job befitting my stature. The pleasures of being a manservant and attending to the daily chores of a gentleman has suddenly become a thing, uppermost in my mind. Can u believe it that I have also started taking an enormous interest in fish and how the consumption of that will help to increase the roundness of my head at the back.”
“Fish?”, I exclaimed suddenly, making the old man jump up in alarm. “But that’s the most delicious thing in the world.” If you have taken a fancy to it, by all means, pl go ahead and have dozens of them,” I countered back in an attempt to make him feel at ease. “Age had not been able to dull his sense of humour,” I thought, sensing that this whole thing must be some kind of a joke concocted by the great man.
“I agree, but this obsession with the roundness of my head is getting on my nerves. I keep measuring the bulge every morning. Don’t you agree that its better to exhibit my roundness to the entire world for people to realize that I am different from Bertie Wooster?”
“You mean showing off one’s strength in the upper storey?”
“Precisely, said Mr Wodehouse.
“Right-Ho,” I said.
“Stop Right-Ho-ing and tell me why am I here?”
“I am the doctor,” I said, trying to put things in proper perspective and hoping my statement can throw some light on his muddled memory.
“Oh, maybe some mistake,” he mumbled to himself as he rose from the chair. Before I could react, he had walked out of my chamber, leaving me wide eyed, in amazement.
Through the closed door, I could distinctly hear the man lamenting to my secretary Molly, as she clicked the door open to usher the next patient into my chamber. A reflex action, just like what Pavlov’s dog had been used to, my hand involuntarily reached out for the register kept on the left side of my desk.
Surprise was what was in store and it took some time for the vision unfolding before my eyes, to register in my mind. The next patient was none other than the Monarch of humour, Sir P G Wodehouse himself!
The door opened and in walked the great man himself, into my chamber and sat down in the chair reserved for the patients. What is the great man doing in India and that too in my chamber, I thought bewildered.
A polite English “Good Morning” later, he leaned forward, in a conspiratorial sort of way, apparently trying to restrict the conversation to only between the two of us.
“I need to disclose something to you. Lately, I have started behaving like, Jeeves”.
It took some time for the great man’s words to register in my head. Already I had become a little weak in my upper storey because of the excitement of having got the opportunity of meeting the master story-teller, the ageless humourist, in person.
In a whispering voice, Mr Wodehouse continued, “U will be surprised to note that I have even applied for the position of a butler that was advertised in the Sunday morning daily because in my mind I couldn’t think of another job befitting my stature. The pleasures of being a manservant and attending to the daily chores of a gentleman has suddenly become a thing, uppermost in my mind. Can u believe it that I have also started taking an enormous interest in fish and how the consumption of that will help to increase the roundness of my head at the back.”
“Fish?”, I exclaimed suddenly, making the old man jump up in alarm. “But that’s the most delicious thing in the world.” If you have taken a fancy to it, by all means, pl go ahead and have dozens of them,” I countered back in an attempt to make him feel at ease. “Age had not been able to dull his sense of humour,” I thought, sensing that this whole thing must be some kind of a joke concocted by the great man.
“I agree, but this obsession with the roundness of my head is getting on my nerves. I keep measuring the bulge every morning. Don’t you agree that its better to exhibit my roundness to the entire world for people to realize that I am different from Bertie Wooster?”
“You mean showing off one’s strength in the upper storey?”
“Precisely, said Mr Wodehouse.
“Right-Ho,” I said.
“Stop Right-Ho-ing and tell me why am I here?”
“I am the doctor,” I said, trying to put things in proper perspective and hoping my statement can throw some light on his muddled memory.
“Oh, maybe some mistake,” he mumbled to himself as he rose from the chair. Before I could react, he had walked out of my chamber, leaving me wide eyed, in amazement.
Comments
Post a Comment