Make an ass of yourself. But don’t let the world know.

Many a time we are swept by that overwhelming feeling to bare all. Not to be mistaken with confession which is done after ensuring that there is nothing further to lose on account of reputation; but pure tear jerker stuff. Born out of righteous indignation. Or plain stupidity. The former we can still condone, but it’s the later course that we are well advised to steer clear of. And here’s a sweet story that gives a reason why and urges us to hold back whenever we find ourselves in similar situations.

Not so long ago, when there were still prying but sympathetic peers abound (of which the later variety is a rare and endangered species these days) there lived an average Joe monk in a monastery. One day after his usual ablutions, meditations, chores done and frugal meals partaken; he set out to gather firewood in the nearby woods for the rituals at twilight. His both hands occupied, holding the bundle of firewood perched on his head; little could he do to defend himself when a wild dog dug its sharpest into the fleshiest part of his anatomy that which he cannot see.

Smarting under the sharp pangs of his submitting so meekly before the lowliest of creatures and limping under the practicality of having to now shift weight to one leg that which didn’t have the honor of submitting itself to the cursed cur’s uncompromising and deep oral dalliance; the monk thought thus hurrying towards the tall and fortified walls of the comforting monastery beyond the reach of such wily whelps.

“Mm..let me see now; there are around 377 brother monks behind the blessed boundaries. This pronounced limping coupled with the not so nuanced painful contortions of my face are bound to draw both attention and sympathetic yet piercing questions about what transpired. There is no other way for me but to open up and give them a detailed account of the state of affairs. The more matronly of the fraternity will want to dwell on the shape, size, speed and stealth of that scourge on four legs. Not once but many a tens of times have I to go through this motion of explaining to each and every one. Reliving through those painful moment again and again with no prospect of the pain ever dulling. Or me finding time to tend to that tender part of self in the privacy of my chamber. I trust the better way out of this predicament would be to…”

Into the sight came the hallowed monastery, rising magnificently from the woods. Amid the chirping of the birds snuggling into their well feathered nests and the call of the wild; the monk could make out faint peal of the clear bell ringing in the dusk and striking thunderbolt awareness into his hollowed head.

As a hurricane in hurry, shot the monk towards the monastery doors, resembling a moth rocketing towards the leaping tongues of fire, throwing caution to the winds. Scurrying up the tower that housed the bell, lifting the otherwise half-a-ton weighing gong like the feather of a celestial bird and striking it against the bronze bell with all his might; all this was a moment’s work.

Surveying the surging shaven heads and their scrutinizing gazes; the monk turned around, bent over, lifted the ochre robe well above the mark that pumps blood into the sternest of cheeks and proceeded to recount the ordeal he hath passed through that unfortunate evening….

Now my dear friends; when did we not feel the strong urge to announce to the world what we have passed through in the wilderness of our respective corporates? Almost everyday I hear you all cry in unison. I know. I been there. But thankfully I haven’t done that. For however much the temptation is of unburdening self of the travails I face day in and day out, I know there aren’t many kindly and brotherly souls around. So keep shifting weights, drag the feet and keep a smiling face. And working hard at throwing a sympathetic glance in for good measure in hope that some numbskull will fall for it and entertain me with his tale of misery. And over and above that I make sure to carry a sturdy staff and bide my time. For though there is a dearth of kindly hearts it’s more than made up by an overabundance of the blasted bowwows.

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5 Comments Add yours

  1. Kunle says:

    Good work. Just came across your blog and have been greatly instructed by the lessons and the comments. Keep it flowing.

  2. Shiv says:

    I guess we all need to keep our tribulations at the workplace to ourselves. Its really everyone to his own and survival of the connivingest. I firmly believe that those with no evident talent end up being corporate executives. Once that is established (the lack of talent, that is) we are confined to a lifetime of subjugation to the monthly paycheck. In these circumstances, its best to grin and bear it. Is there a choice?

    1. ivak99 says:

      There is. Smile and inflict! Dont rundown yourself as being a meek subjugated soul. Remember we all have a hint of satan or Cerberus in each of us. And enough peers milling around who are suckers for a smile to unburden their trials or foolish enough not to notice the sharp canine tooth the smile hides.

  3. kk says:

    Don’t take away the only respite one has as a corporate rat. Water cooler venting. Chee.

  4. Irma says:

    Well said it is….the derth of kindly hearts!!
    Cause for most of us, this is just another excuse to stray from the work station to steal a few light momments at the coffee machine as the fools take their turn at ‘making as ass of themselves’.

    Long live the fool who believes he is surrounded by sympathetic peers. Gives a whole new meaning to ‘coffee and conversation’

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