Ode to Humour

My sense of humour seems to have experienced a myocardial infarction recently… (that’s a “heart attack” for those with little knowledge of medical jargon!!). And I am scared about the outcome. I fear it can lead to paralysis of the faculty that lets me feel comfortable at various occasions and has often taken me out of the soup when I have very efficiently turned my well intended act of flirting into a process of “humour-under-erosion” on the part of the subject.   I don’t want this faculty of mine turning into a state of vegetable for the rest of my life.

Don’t know how I came to self diagnose this sudden demise of the only “sense” I claimed to have till now. For, I was pretty sure I was a “good-for-nothing” and a “senseless” fellow (adjectives, courtesy Wifey the Witch). The only sense I seem to have was making out humour in even the most well intended serious facts of life. I would find fun at each allegation of being a clumsy oaf levelled at me when ever I dropped the spoon too loudly at the supper plate. I called it music to the ears. I left the water tap partially running after each shaving session. When accosted, I attributed it to a reason for me to go back to the tap and shut it tight only because it was running!! People were fed up of my antics in the company of kids and often asked me to stop behaving like a monkey. I coolly reminded them of their ancestors and pleaded to them to have at least some amount of respect.

Well, not to let out the skeletons, I prefer keeping the closet locked.

Yet, I have this gnawing feeling that my sense of humour has taken a beating recently. To an extent that the poor sense decided to experience a hear attack and is now in a critical state. I have tried self-resuscitation to breathe some life into it. But my frail “humour health” forbids it to come back to a normal self.

Early symptoms?

Well… Let me think. My best pal, with a comparable sense of humour sent me this one liner mail that had – “Panda Mating fails… Veterinarian takes over”. I was sure there was a catch to it. But some how could not grasp it. I was wondering why a veterinary would not take over. Wasn’t it his job? Surely a gynae would not take this on! For, a Panda is a Panda and Panda it will remain.

Then there was this cartoon clip that said – if people were meant to pop out of the bed, we’d all sleep in toasters. Funny he, who coined this. I am yet to pop out of my bed. I have always been half dragged and half pushed out of the bed. And sleeping in a toaster is not anyone’s forte I guess. How does one get into it in the first place? And what does one do when the coils begin to heat?

It was only in retrospection when I went through these and some more of them once again that a realised there was a humour/pun attached to them which I failed to grasp! Then, there was this phone call this morning.

One of my old pals...

Another one gifted with a supposedly good humour. And he asks – “Hope you are in the well?” (age old humour-under-erosion adage!!). And I was like – “what the heavens!! How can I be in the well when I am plonked comfortably in my office chair with the heater at its warmest?” I made it known to him. And, it was then it struck me that my “sense of humour” has experienced an attack and is dying.

Honestly, I don’t want it to die. I want the humour in life to carry on. Almost as if it was never meant to die. May be, live eternally. People should remember me as a funny old man rather than a sulking young fellow. Humour does funny things to you always. The other day I was at the dentist, showing long time caries of Wifey the Witch. She was scared of everything in the dentist’s cabin. Even the comfortable looking couch that could raise and turn you to convenient levels & angles (my darker fantasies were already at work when she boarded that couch!). She was apprehensive of those - many a needles and groping tools placed on the tray. There was that pair of pliers she was eyeing warily. Dr. Dentist begins the examination of the erring tooth.

And me goes off – “watch out Doc!! She bites badly…”

Doc’s fright, her stares and my poker face – all seemed to be reacting in military precision. Only to be disturbed by the sweetest giggle I ever heard – that of the nurse. I almost telexed my funeral date that day.

But then, the Doc shows magnanimity and pulls out her right molar. I am waiting for the left molar to develop a malfunction. That will be two bite marks less on me.

I hope and pray to God my sense of humour regains health and I am once again alive and kicking on the circuits. It helps you to get away with many a things. For those, who lack in this faculty, I urge you to find fun in simple things of life. Let not the jest for living die down in you. For, it is the soul of happiness. Even if it makes people laugh at you.

At least you give them a reason to laugh…