Between the Head and the Lines.

          Every morning, Shri Husband and I share the newspaper. Amicably, with minimum squabbling. Because what one chooses to read in it doesn’t match what the other is interested in.

He reads about how NaMo is stretching his promise, taking his own sweet time deciding about the One Rank One Pension (google OROP if you want to know more), why Clinton of Monica fame and Hillary, his missus, haven’t retired from politics, who’s buying Pakistan’s nuclear knowledge and which IPL team earns how much.

I, on the other hand, avoid boring political and sports headlines and check when/whether our village will have a power shut-down, whether the three-legged calf born in the veterinary hospital survived a complex surgery and what the cost of a sea-plane ride on the Mandovi will be. Besides, I read about who’s recently died/had a baby, the latest supermarkets opening on the main road near our house, etc. (No longer do people call them shops/stores. We even have mini-super-markets.)

         But there are times when our interests overlap. It must happen with all long-suffering spouses: shared irritations result in similar dislikes. In our case, silly television serials are one such. Don’t get me wrong, we share likes, too: silent non-communication, for instance, through long summer evenings.

We have another common interest: when it comes to sharing news or reading snippets from paragraphs, we like hunting for grammatical slip-ups. Sadly, there are so many of them (slip-ups, not common interests) these days that we’ve reached a stage where we scout for grammatically correct usage instead. For example, the other day, some sub actually knew the difference between hung (a picture on a wall) and hanged (by the neck until dead). We thought we should write to the editor to compliment the sub, until we realized that the editor might be clueless her/himself.

Occasionally, we read about the same topic beyond the headlines. It happened twice this week.

First: for over a hundred years, since 1914, no one had seen a blue whale off the Sindhudurg coast, and a group of scientists saw a mother and calf last week. I quote from a news report: “… whales were spotted recently between March and May. The researchers (of the Konkan Cetacean Research Team) also spotted four Bryde's whales during the period. The cetacean population study team has been deployed … for the past six months under the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) project on Mainstreaming Coastal and Marine Biodiversity. It also sighted 687 dolphins, of which 153 individual dolphins were identified because of distinct features such as their fins.”Top of Form

“Blue whales are the largest mammals in the world,” Shri Husband said. As if I didn’t know.  

I read on: “According to N Vasudevan, Chief Conservator of Forests, Mangrove Cell, they were seen near Kunkeshwar, 2.7 km offshore at a depth of 16 m. ...calls for immediate study as to why such a large species is moving close to land…regular whale-watching activities are going to be initiated across the Sindhudurg coast without disturbing the habitat of the whales. These spots can become a tourist attraction if such mammals are spotted often.”

He (Shri Husband, not Vasudevan) couldn’t help interrupting: “Tourists? Poor endangered creatures.”  I told you, we sometimes agree. (The ‘poor endangered creatures’ was in reference to the whales, not the tourists, though in Goa that might happen if we don’t tackle the garbage/public transport issues).

         “So close to Goa,” I continued. “There are fewer than 10,000 blue whales on this planet and a live sighting — that too a mother and calf — that’s rare.”

         We both nodded our heads agreeably at each other for a couple of seconds before we realized how abnormal they (the moments of agreement, not our heads) were.

         The second report came to us orally, didn’t really make it to the newspapers we read, but was worthy of discussion between us. Opposite the fire-brigade ground in Panaji, tucked inside a non-descript government residential colony is Hamara School for street children. It’s not really a school. Run by a bunch of passionate and dedicated women for the last almost two decades, this institution feeds, shelters and educates offspring of very poor labourers. Volunteer driven, its funds come from kind hearts. A part of those funds are used for paying the fees of some of the brighter children, who have been admitted into regular schools. This year, five ‘inmates’ appeared for the tenth boards. All five passed. That’s remarkable, considering that they have none of the benefits that even lower-lower middle-class children do, often not even parental affection. One of the five, a girl, scored 84%.

“Not bad, not bad at all, eh?” quipped Shri Husband looking at me. From his expression I knew he was recalling my marks of yore. I had once hidden my old report-cards in a suitcase. Stupid of me, because Shri Husband found them, read their contents: they have provided him with mirth (and me with gross annoyance) ever since.

Please note, Shri Husband’s ‘not bad’ is actually equal to ‘very good’. He understates.   

         We both agreed, though, that the ones with the lesser marks, who most likely would join vocational/technical courses, were the ones to help out with fees/ facilities. We do agree at times, like I said.

         Our eyes may be attracted to different headlines, but in between our heads and the lines we read, sometimes our interests match.

Feedback: sheelajaywant@yahoo.co.in