Often, my so-called well-wishers criticize me for reading and admiring Plum too much. However, the reasons which keep this craving of mine – to keep devouring his works – alive and kicking, are not too difficult to fathom.
A Chin-up Attitude
There are practical instances wherein I am persuaded to believe that too much of an association with this gentleman’s works will not suggest any solutions to the problems I face in day-to-day life. However, once the problem is over, I realize that the courage to sail through the peril was somehow provided by him. The outcome is that of maintaining a jaunty sang froid while facing the harsh slings and arrows of Fate.
The Utility of a Plummy Lens
Many a time, say during an extreme crisis, I have observed that I switch myself off and start thinking of the situation in the light of his works. For example, when someone shouts at me or at anyone else who may be the weaker party in that situation, the face of the shout-er (irrespective of gender) resembles that of Roderick Spode whereas that of the shout-ee looks like that of either Bertie or Bingo Little. Somehow, my anger evaporates. I start giggling internally, of course, while experiencing extreme difficulty in keeping myself serious externally. Likewise, many of his characters keep assisting me from time to time. When a senior starts ridiculing me, I stand before him, often shuffling my feet, like one of the guilty pupils of Rev. Aubrey Upjohn, as if I had tried to steal some cookies from the jar kept inside the desk in his office. When a colleague starts showering some undue favours upon me, I feel like Oofy Prosser and suspect the person to be planning to soon touch me for the proverbial tenner.
To me, someone throwing weight around sounds like Pop Basset. Those who view me critically and make me feel as if I could do with a heavy dose of intellectual upliftment look like Aunt Agatha or Rupert Baxter. Someone in whose company I become tongue-tied and gawky remind me of Bertie when he is with either Madeline Bassett or Corky Pirbright. When I fail to recollect some crucial information at a critical juncture, which happens rather frequently, I feel like Lord Emsworth. Whenever I participate in a karate event, I feel as if Pauline Stoker is cheering me from amongst the viewers. When I am with my better half, I believe myself to be like Bingo Little, ensuring that she gets her evening cup of tea for sure. The list is endless. I wish I could keep on adding here. But you get the drift. In different situations, I readily imagine having the traits of one of his characters.
Does a Dependence on Plum Help?
To be in context (which many of my friends, and well-wishers, bless them, feel 90% of the time I am not), I often wonder if too much dependency on this man has made me a bit of a person who lives in a dream world. Well, the straightforward answer to which is a ‘yes.’ The question that readily follows, and is perhaps more contextual, is, does that help? Well, the answer to this is not that straightforward. To be specific, sometimes it is a ‘yes’ and sometimes it is a ‘no’ depending on the mood I am in at that time. However, the funny part is, if it is a ‘yes’ then fine, but if it is otherwise, I have found, I end up going through a book of his to ultimately nullify the apprehension of saying ‘yes!’
I thank all my friends, family members, and patrons who have introduced me to the beautiful world created by him. It may not be fashionable to say this, but I think I suffer from, for want of a better term, an addiction. It keeps provoking me to revisit the world, created by this gentleman, again and again, ignoring the words of caution from my so-called critics and well-wishers who keep trying to make my life better with their thoughts of ‘wisdom.’
The Perks of an Addiction
As to words of wisdom, given the age I am at, the incitement to impart knowledge to others increases. In a way, this satisfies my ego which gets a chance to brag. Like Thos, I can afford to view those around me with a supercilious gaze. The fact remains that all of us have a kid within ourselves. One of the many achievements of this gentleman is that he successfully keeps that child alive within us through his works. As they say, er, isn’t there a proverb that connects a child, father, and man? The brainy cove who came up with it was surely spot on.
An Appeal to the Wodehouse Estate
Let me also take this opportunity to convey a humble request of mine to the Wodehouse Estate. I would suggest that like such other products as tobacco and alcohol, all books and stories of the Master Wordsmith of our times should mandatorily carry a clear warning to the effect that reading his narratives could lead to a severe state of addiction, and that they read his works only at their own risk and peril.
Happy Birth Anniversary!
Happy 141st, Sir. 141 years and still so very relevant. It makes me feel chuffed, satiated, and proud to realize that we continue to breathe, live, and enjoy the same world, drinking deep from the underground reservoirs of unalloyed bliss and joy he has left behind for us.
(A version of this write-up has also been posted by the author on the Fans of P G Wodehouse page of FB. His permission to republish this piece here is gratefully acknowledged.)
(Suryamouli Datta is a 42-year young fan of P G Wodehouse. He is a software professional, presently associated with Tata Consultancy Services. He is an amateurish author who is yet to knock at the publisher’s door. He is a black-brown belt in karate and occasionally dabbles in theatre. He also happens to be a movie buff.
He believes that Wodehouse, like golf, should be caught early and that his Guardian Angels have will-nilly ensured that this is what has happened to him! Thus, the ‘child’ in him is yet to grow up and he is pretty elated about it.)
(Related Post: https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/10/23/my-dear-clarence)
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