The Little Toot

Is that me? Of course not! I look much better. Any day!

Do you think I can toot my own horn? I possibly cannot.

Although, some people call me The Little Toot. But I am certain it is their problem not mine. And sure that blowing my own trumpet is not one of the talents I enjoy. Neither can any fancy training make me learn to do that with élan. None, whatsoever.

Look at the humble me.

On FB, I mean. I never change my profile picture on a daily basis. The last I changed was when I was 2, or my son. Such regulars other people are, always putting new poses and positions for public viewing. Arrey? Where is the need and what be the aim? A simple smile on a haircut day is enough. Or an evening gown with a jeans-tee husband on the side. Also, why add 5000 friends? Such indiscriminate attitude towards true relationships cannot be next to Godliness, which friendship is supposed to be. I only have 600. Then, I never ‘promote’ myself, after I heard that it is paid. Even otherwise, I am sure I would never have promoted myself. And pimping my work you call it? Tauba! Never never. Just a little self-love for what I do. Just like you too love your food or kitty or bags or shoes. Buss. Prudish privacy settings are not for me. Like Mr. Anonymous once said in his classically wise way - It’s FB for Heaven’s sake. Need some space? Try Orkut. The last I checked there was not a soul there and a lot of solitude to enjoy. Privacy settings complete! Or was it me saying that?  

Of course I am not tooting my own humility horn. Am I?

I am suddenly reminded of a well-schooled me!

On the road I blow my horn. But certainly not as much as every car, scooter, bike, tractor, truck and bicycle around me. Bai God! I never toot at red lights, as those who do thinking they turn green out of sheer frustration at the loudness. The modest (envious? No, baba!) me notices toots making sure their Audi is noticed, even if it is crawling as fast as the bullock cart I’m driving next to it. Often, some go honk-honk generally, since there is not much else to do with their hands, or maybe to give background music to Honey Singh playing on the radio, or in their hearts. I did try it too. I once tooted and tooted at a wheel that was crossing the road, thanks to a little child spinning it with a stick. I am sure the wheel heard me. And made way! But me going beep-beep indiscriminately? Never!

Toot-toot-tooty? Why are you singing that for me? Or is it my cart calling me?  

So simple I am I wonder how to explain.

Weddings I like. I know how to whistle with my fingers in my mouth. The front-benchers-in-small-time-cinema-halls kind. And get whistled at too, if all those badly suited tender-age boys staring my way are to be believed. Here and bare I was, standing with my back towards the crowd. Enjoying the little attention coming my way. And there, hey Ram, came a group of damsels in varying degrees of wardrobe distress. And hair! Glitter in the hair? No wonder the metallic butterfly thought it was a flower. And chose to sit. Two balls, perhaps 24 carat like the tops, hanging low from the blouse on the back. To be seen. They even rang, like a bell, as they passed me. Such 'shimmeriness' and I waned in comparison. Because I had only one hanging behind me, and tops the size of a peanut. But choro parrey! Who has the time to go look at others? And envy I never feel. Most of the time, I am busy looking at my modest simplicity in every glass door that I pass. You may look like the bride, but I simply aim to look like her sister, that's all.

What? Why the face? I can like myself for my dressing-sense or not? What goes of the orchid in your hair?

I am a very charitable person.

Religious too, somewhat. See. Thing is. We need to go to heaven. So every Tuesday I go to the temple and distribute sweet orange balls of Prasad (3/out-stretched hand) freely to the needy around. Then, I carry the idea of giver around my neck and the label in my head, before I zoom home to eat my paneer butter masala. I am charitable, but I don’t toot, mind you. This was just a passing reference. Really! I do look at others around who indulge in holy-toot. Bhai sahib! You think blocking the road with your larger-than-life langar pandal will prove a point? And not letting my bullock cart pass will earn you extra bucks, or blessings as they are called? Hey prabhu I invoke, yes, even the one in gold hanging gladly around some necks, desperate for cynosure. Think properly, will you? Or are you drunk, like the goons on trucks invoking Shiva. Oh by the way, I never drink in the name of religion, or charity even. Just saying. When I give that Re 1 to my mall cashier for a good cause I understand not, I don’t do dhindoraa-peetna at all. At all! It’s not like I gave off my jaydaad, or my choc-a-bloc bank locker. Is it?

Optimum amount of charity and religion in my life. Buss. Not tooting, but stating a basic fact of my existence. Including about my locker.

As for my writing, what to say?

I am sure I stand apart. I am sure. It’s the dirty competition that kills me. Appreciate and you are sycophant. Don’t and you are a prude. Try to improve and they think you are still a kid. Don’t improve and you are a dinosaur. Arrey bhai? Write and let write doesn’t sound nice or what? I never meddle in people’s writing affairs. I send a polite ‘check your tense will you’ message, often. Feeling not one bit superior in language, though I do take my writing very seriously you know. Much more seriously than the one who just wrote a Haiku on over-boiled rice. No, not tooting my horn with my pen cap. But I love my ivory tower. Precious and exclusive it is. Like me, maybe. The rest is just a Ladies club on picking of Teej Queen day. Sexist me? There, you start judging again!

I notice your frown. Confused, if it’s you I talk about or myself? Worry not, I love talking about me, even though I toot no narcissistic horn when I say that!

Now, do you finally believe I cannot toot my own horn?

[Written for Project 365 aimed at posting at least once a day, based on the prompts provided. The prompt for today was "Toot your Horn - Most of us are excellent at being self-deprecating, and are not so good at the opposite. Tell us your favourite thing about yourself."]