Saga of the Motor Mouth... Good Morning to sleep well !

 

Saga of the Motor Mouth!       

-----------Good Morning to sleep well!

I am convinced that there are four kinds of people in this world: the silent ones, who believe that facial expressions, gestures, posture, and minimum use of vocal chord are powerful communication tools. Their interaction is solely in sign language with nod of their heads (either up & down or shaking  side to side )  and  an odd facial expression  like a smile, pout or frawn and uttering  occasional monosyllables like  Oh ! , ooh!  , ha !  Hmm..

 In the second variety are those who talk less,but still contribute significantly in a conversation.

The third type are those who talk precisely what they need to without deviating  from the subject These are the people  who choose their words carefully and on rare occasions  run the risk of being labelled as snobs.

…..and then  there are people , the fourth category  who talk …..a LOT!  The blabber mouths! 

Lets leave the first three  categories at peace and pounce on the wind bags. What actually do they talk about? ANYTHING .You  wait for a pause so you can get a word in, but it never comes. They can somehow continue with  their stream of  verbal diarrhea, without taking a breath. Just make the mistake of starting a conversation with them and you'll  become a victim of their incessant  chatter . Subjects can range from idli-chutnery to neighbour’s wife to politics to AI. The first time you converse with such a person, you'll invariably be awed by depth of his “Knowledge” . Before long  you'll realize the sinister  reality of these windbags. Truth is, they just talk,talk & talk and do little else !  The irritating  part is that they repeat their favourite topics over and over even if no one is interested.

 Basically there are two types of  chatterbox. The first actually work at being entertaining to  grab attention & feed off listeners’ appreciation. Whether they succeed is up to the listener. The second type  is made up of those who fear that if you stop listening, they stop living. If you want to close the conversation and move on , you have to stop it, or get the conversation back on course.

A trick   I have tried to keep chatterbox on leash is by playing dumb, uttering something like  “I like what you’re saying, I fully understand . You’ve got it right.” and such other tricks hoping to coerce  the prattler  to focus.

On the other hand, if the incessant tirade starts becoming more irksome than boring, it may be time to end the dialogue and even friendship.

There are, however, occasions when we ourselves are absolutely at liberty to dominate conversation as much as we wish, and that is when that heart of ours is bursting: If the pet died, son got engaged, just lost a job, won a lottery, got elected to the Legislative Assembly — if it’s a really major occurrence in our life — we too can babble on till we swoon!

Warning:   Such an scene is still nowhere in sight for me. Nothing on the radar yet. Should it unfold  anytime in the future be forewarned. Keep your ear plugs ready & select a secure  lair. I promise, it’s going to resemble a geological cataclysm, no less.

 

       Now, why have I written  this blog..?

         I was  attacked without warning by one such  long lost 'motor-mouth'

 A classmate and friend from 53 years Swaroop had this terrible habit of rambling on and on about: “My son” did this, “my son” did that  ,                “my son” blaah, blaah ,blaah …………….whenever our close group of  six classmates met. Soon we labelled him  “my son” Swaroopa (name changed to protect his“Chastity” * and as years passed he was called  only as “my son”. He  did’nt seem to mind.

Out of the blue he met me last week after some 16 years. Luckily, the six of us were able to have a breakfast meet. After exchanging pleasantries, we gathered that Swaroop had two grandsons now. He talked glowlingly about his elder grandson. Without warning, the hammering began “my grandson”, “my grandson” “my grandson”  he went on relentlessly . Before we dispersed,  five of us glanced at each other . Smiles turned to uncontrolled laughter. “ ‘ my son ’ convey our best wishes to your  ‘grandson ‘ ” we teased.

** Unable to find a suitable word for மானம் , I have used the word  “Chastity”               though it  sounds err… a bit cheesy !