Physiologists have found that specific areas in the brain control specific abilities like memory and speech. I, for one, believe that there is one that deals with a sense of direction and which, for some sad and inscrutable reason, has gone missing in my mind-box. A total blank it is, for while others can point North, South, left or right in the blink of an eye, yours truly has to don her thinking cap and even so, fails to zero in on the right answer.
I would not be so honest with you if it were not for my family that insists on making this shameful disability public knowledge. They miss no opportunity to declare, "When Amma says left, it is right and when she says right, it is wrong." I laugh along with the rest because I know that no one will buy the genuine excuse I have.
It all began with an attack of jaundice that hit me when I was in the fourth standard. It laid me low for six months and that was when the teacher taught the class about North, South, East and West. Ever since, this concept has remained NEWS to me. When I returned to school after a long absence, my classmates explained the lesson to me, showing me the diagram of a child standing with her hands held out to East and West, with North imprinted on top and South below. But the idea refused to enter my head.
My husband and older daughter will any day reach Timbuktu without the aid of maps and charts, while my younger daughter quickly comes to know of the place she is in, like the palm of her hand. It is only I who is fated to remain permanently at sea. In a bid to correct the situation, the wiseacres at home installed a compass in the car. The green, bulbous thing sported a needle that faultlessly pointed north. "Look at it and memorise the landmarks," they told me. Easier said than done, for, while I was looking at the landmarks, I could not look at the needle and vice-versa. It was a futile exercise and when this became apparent, they gave up trying.
It then became my friend's turn. She took it upon herself as a challenge, vowing she would make a new person of me. She began by pointing out how to navigate my way from various well-known places in Bangalore to our workplace. I was to visualise and memorise it at home and repeat it to her the next day. All went well until the day I was asked how I would negotiate from a place in Lesson 1 to a place in Lesson 2. I was hopelessly, helplessly stuck. That was when she too threw up her hands in despair. "You will learn," she said kindly, not adding when.
My husband swears that my abysmal lack of direction would have thrown me into the jaws of death but for his timely intervention. It happened early in our married life. We had gone to see a friend off at the station. We were still in the compartment when the train started moving. My husband jumped off smartly and held out his hands ready to catch me. He was certain I would jump the wrong way and sure enough I fell into his waiting arms. He needs little encouragement to recount this heroic deed.
It is my great regret that I missed the only opportunity I got to get the better of him. Our friend had shifted to a new residence and we were visiting him for the second time. It was only after we were well on our way that my husband discovered that he had left the address behind. "No matter," he said breezily, "I know the landmarks." Strangely enough, he shot past a landmark I recognised. We had landed in a narrow blind alley and it took us a while to weave ourselves out.
"I tried to warn you," I began. But he cut me short with, "Did you really think I did not know? I just wanted to explore that bit of the layout."
It was then that wisdom dawned upon me. In some ways, it is better to let others have their way. At long last, I had taken a step in the right direction!
I would not be so honest with you if it were not for my family that insists on making this shameful disability public knowledge. They miss no opportunity to declare, "When Amma says left, it is right and when she says right, it is wrong." I laugh along with the rest because I know that no one will buy the genuine excuse I have.
It all began with an attack of jaundice that hit me when I was in the fourth standard. It laid me low for six months and that was when the teacher taught the class about North, South, East and West. Ever since, this concept has remained NEWS to me. When I returned to school after a long absence, my classmates explained the lesson to me, showing me the diagram of a child standing with her hands held out to East and West, with North imprinted on top and South below. But the idea refused to enter my head.
My husband and older daughter will any day reach Timbuktu without the aid of maps and charts, while my younger daughter quickly comes to know of the place she is in, like the palm of her hand. It is only I who is fated to remain permanently at sea. In a bid to correct the situation, the wiseacres at home installed a compass in the car. The green, bulbous thing sported a needle that faultlessly pointed north. "Look at it and memorise the landmarks," they told me. Easier said than done, for, while I was looking at the landmarks, I could not look at the needle and vice-versa. It was a futile exercise and when this became apparent, they gave up trying.
It then became my friend's turn. She took it upon herself as a challenge, vowing she would make a new person of me. She began by pointing out how to navigate my way from various well-known places in Bangalore to our workplace. I was to visualise and memorise it at home and repeat it to her the next day. All went well until the day I was asked how I would negotiate from a place in Lesson 1 to a place in Lesson 2. I was hopelessly, helplessly stuck. That was when she too threw up her hands in despair. "You will learn," she said kindly, not adding when.
My husband swears that my abysmal lack of direction would have thrown me into the jaws of death but for his timely intervention. It happened early in our married life. We had gone to see a friend off at the station. We were still in the compartment when the train started moving. My husband jumped off smartly and held out his hands ready to catch me. He was certain I would jump the wrong way and sure enough I fell into his waiting arms. He needs little encouragement to recount this heroic deed.
It is my great regret that I missed the only opportunity I got to get the better of him. Our friend had shifted to a new residence and we were visiting him for the second time. It was only after we were well on our way that my husband discovered that he had left the address behind. "No matter," he said breezily, "I know the landmarks." Strangely enough, he shot past a landmark I recognised. We had landed in a narrow blind alley and it took us a while to weave ourselves out.
"I tried to warn you," I began. But he cut me short with, "Did you really think I did not know? I just wanted to explore that bit of the layout."
It was then that wisdom dawned upon me. In some ways, it is better to let others have their way. At long last, I had taken a step in the right direction!