He is neither a Member of Parliament not in the Ministry of Personnel. Sometimes you may chance upon him in bylanes or at times can see him through his window. Each type of sighting is a story in itself.
He is a CAD (coronary artery disease) patient, and his interventional cardiologist had advised (prescribed) a vigorous walk of 30 minutes every day, after inserting two stents and billing a sizeable chunk of money. Dripping with Kindness, he had also included a caveat 'or as tolerable' for the walk.
MoP is methodical, in this
regard. First forms and opinion and then goes about avoiding that person. He has an aversion to meet with and talk to people, while
on a task. He considered it as a waste of time and they in turn deemed it as
a wasted kindness. More or less, it left MoP alone, but for a few leashed
and stray dogs who have not yet received or acknowledged his message. He could
not attribute a reason for this canine behaviour, but being wary of them
getting too close to him without broadcasting their noble intentions, he avoided them
to the extent possible. So, the bylanes in the locality became his haunt.
For another inexplicable reason, the strays lounging there ignored him completely. The 30-minute vigorous walk had become a sore point in his life, as his better half taking matters in her own hands had pasted xerox copies of the doctor’s prescription on the walls of the house. To him it looked like cinema posters of yester years without featuring the faces of actors. MoP, unable to decide which, leashed or stray dogs, had more itching teeth to bite, bravely ventured out for the prescription walk. This kind of uncanny interest shown by the canine tribe, had forced him off the main road and into bylanes.
He did not realise that he was the reason for this near miss episodes. New to ‘this heavy exercise’ he was panting like the dogs do after a run and this must have angered them. Had he chosen, he could have befriended them with 'kibbles' or 'nibbles'. Since he considered them as a waste of his money, the canines have almost decided to taste the flesh on his calf muscle by way of their reply.
His 30 minutes prescription walk, in the bylanes, went on smoothly for a few days. On a fine day, literally the weather was cool & breezy, this was about to change. The stray dogs by instinct exercise strict control over their territory. Transgressions are met with bared teeth, jiu jitsu, judo and kung fu postures as if they had choreographed Jet Li, Bruce Lee, Tony Jaa and Jackie Chan for their fight sequences. Somehow through their bared teeth and chorus barks, a newcomer evicted from another bylane had gained entry and simply pretended to be asleep. Though they are stray dogs, they do have some honour codes. They don't bark at the sleeping dogs!
A few days of this play acting gained that new stray dog its permanent residential rights. Though MoP had been seeing that sleeping dog, he never suspected it to be a new entrant. As usual, on that day, he resumed his 30-minute routine from a particular point which ended near the tree. The newcomer, on his own sleep-won rights, had made that same tree as his operating base. The newcomer snarled, bared its teeth and raised a racket without even bothering to get up. This racket brought all other stray dogs rushing to the spot to join the party to feast or watch the drama from the sidelines. MoP did not pause to analyse.
The 30-minute walk was for maintaining his heart in good health. If he could not safeguard his general health, then what was the fun in doing that 30-minute thingy? He, our MoP, decided to take his walkathons to indoors. He immediately recognised the latent benefits in this decision. The twin problems of meeting with the unpredictable stray dogs and facing the bothersome people got solved in one fell swoop.
Since he was fully committed to implement the doctor's advice without let or slip, the xerox copies of the prescription stuck on the walls found a safe haven in the waste basket. Irritants and MoP shared a peculiar sort of umbilical connection. Either he finds them or they confront him.!
Mercifully, MoP was unaware of this family lore - his mother got constantly irritated, till his birth, by the happenings in the womb. She had decided he was solely responsible for all the discomforts she had endured.
Due to his walkathons in the house, his better half decided and supplied a fresh stock of irritants. He barrelling down and she unwittingly coming in the opposite direction on some chore or the other, resulted in an accident almost once during that 30-minute period, every time he walked.
The sudden
brake applied, like the pneumatic variety hissing and sounding in anger,
started taking the knee joints to relaxants and pain killers. To be on the
safer side, she started to wear a helmet and knee guards inside the house,
while MoP went on nonchalantly walking his minutes to his heart’s content.
This physical discomfort apart, to vent her simmering anger, she burnt some telecom spectrums to share her agony by passing out ‘he runs marathons inside the house itself' sort of comments.
Agony did not disturb him, but the comments became the new set of irritants. After designating them as occupational hazards, he continued the 30-minute routine with a little more vigour.
Those who have missed him in the bylanes have now become happier - the dogs need not unnecessarily rake their brains to decide whether to bite or chase or not and the people, with whom he never engaged, deciding on ‘ignoring is better than recognition' salve.
The curious ones - man and stray dog, confirmed his well-being by watching him through the windows! In the meanwhile, once again taking matters in her own hands, for the sake of her own well-being, she had secretly got an appointment to plead with the interventional cardiologist to alter the prescription regarding the 30-minute walks. If that is not possible, will he kind enough to make it strictly an outdoor thingy! To make it stick, he could also add a line about oxygen level in the blood stream.
By the way,
who is this MoP?
None other
than Matter of Perspective! Or should he be called ‘Materia de perspectus’ as
he had unfulfilled dreams to learn Latin.
