the MIDDLE Path by Aniruddha Banhatti (speld decodable readers .txt) 📕

the foot¬path and the streets seemed dotted with ‘Amrut¬atulya' tea shops. Following my nose, I went into one and ordered a cuppa. There was quite a crowd of early morning tea-swillers and they had divided the various newspapers among themselves, each person reading a separate page.
Then my neighbor received his cup of the steaming elixir and handed over to me the page he was reading. Fortunately, it was the front page and I got immersed and absorbed in the
Gulf crisis, the Punjab situation and the Kash¬mir problem in the order named.
I was just getting to the local news, when the kid serving tea scornfully shouted at me:
"Drink up your tea before it gets cold and read later. This is a tea shop and not a public library”
I lowered the newspaper barrier and looked at the steaming cup placed before me and at the flinty-eyed stripling who was smiling at me mockingly and my thoughts about child labor were revolutionized from the bottom up. I took the cup and, with much reluctance, for I had read a juicy local murder only halfway through, handed over the page of the newspaper to my neighbor. This was my first encounter with Puneri snubbing. The excellent quality of the tea calmed me down a little. But being snubbed by a stripl¬ing in the presence of a large audience, I could not keep quiet. So I called the kid and told him: "This is not the way to talk to your elders ... If you learn a little manners it will help you in your life."
To that, he turned towards the ferociously moustached tea-making owner of the shop
who, sitting in witness-box-like cage, was con¬stantly grinding something in a little brass mortar and pestle putting it into the boiling cauldron of tea, and said:
"O Malak, see what this shiklela saheb (literate gentleman) is saying," stressing the lite¬rate. The owner looked at me as if I was a fly in his tea and jerked a thumb over his shoulders. I looked in the direction indicated. There were three boards painted in red letters in perfect Marathi. One read: "Do not argue with the servers about anything." The second read: "Do not sit around here except for drinking tea." The third read: "Do not get insulted by asking for credit."
This was the second jolt. This second snubbing made me spill a drop or two of the tea onto my trousers. So after drinking up my tea, instead of sitting around for the half finished front page, I went to the wash-basin and as I was washing the stain, I looked at the mirror over the basin. Above the mirror was a board and it read: "Yes, you' are
Rajesh Khanna but do not comb your hair here!"
This was the third snubbing I had received within 15 minutes, but it was just a beginning. Later on, I was made into a rough and tough Puneri who could answer back any kind of snub¬bing by a hoard of boards, reading, "Consult your pocket before satisfying the whims of your tongue," and the like in restaurants, by PMT conductors who would ring two bells loud and clear and grin at me through the win¬dow of a half-empty bus as it rattled on without stopping while I was left standing at the bus stop, by bhaajiwalla, by pan-shop owners and many others.
The result is that I have become a Pucca Puneri, and if somebody asks me what time it is, I take my wrist watch so near to his eyes that he has to look at it cross-eyed to make out properly what time it is!


Rules for a golden marriage


ON the occasion of the gold¬en jubilee of my marriage, I wish to share with you the secrets of our happy married life.

These secrets I have formulat¬ed in a series of rules. These rules may seem to be the usual trash, for the simple reason that they are the usual trash. Never¬theless, they are effective.
Rules for Husbands
Rule 1: Rule of relativity:
Always remember that relatives are relative. Her relatives are always better in relation to your relatives, but still, both are rela¬tives. To state simply, always praise whatever relatives she has, and who happen to come up during a conversation. Even if she praises some of your rela¬tives, suspect a trap and be sure to run them down. After all, you are married to her and not to your relatives!
Rule 2: Rule of Lying Low:
Whenever the occasion de¬mands, lie in a low voice. Never tell the truth in a high voice as it can hurt your marriage.
Rule 3: Beauty Is Beastly:
If some woman is beautiful, while discussing her with your wife, always harp on her other beastly qualities, real or imaginary. Nev¬er say a word about her beauty, but discuss all other traits of her personality like meanness, snob¬bishness, her neglect of her hus¬band etc. This rule applies also to your wife's beautiful and young female relatives. Remem¬ber this exception to Rule 1 well. Otherwise you may make a bloomer.
Rule 4: The Law of Volume¬control:
However strongly you feel about a subject, always use your wife's voice as a standard for the pitch of your voice. Al¬ways keep your voice lower by 5 decibels than your wife's voice. By this, your wife will think you are damn serious in whatever you say.
Secondly, she will lower her voice, and you will have to talk in a still lower voice, and gradu¬ally, both of you will develop a habit of talking in hushed voic¬es. To hear you properly, the neighbors will also talk in whis¬pers. Thus, there will be an over¬all reduction in noise pollution and life will be quieter and bet¬ter.
Rule 5: Evolution ofthe Spe¬cies:
From the beginning, just accept the fact that your wife is the superior species and boss in the home. This will make her smug and arrest her further evo¬lution, while you can slowly find ways and means to evolve and become the real boss.
Rules for Wives
Rule 1: Boost Is the Secret:
Always count your husband's successes but never count his failures. Boost his ego constant¬ly. You will find that his ego ¬boosting requirement goes on reducing in inverse square of the boost you give.
Rule 2: Phrases are Poison:
Never use any phrases, especial¬ly during emotional scenes, talk simply. Deliberately avoid us¬ing phrases like: "Don't count your chickens---“ and the similar. Phras¬es only irritate people and achieve nothing.

Rule 3:
Indiscriminate Feed¬ing: Feed your hubby well all the times. Give him breakfast, snacks, cook the food he likes all the time, so that when you make some demand, it will ap¬pear natural to him. A husband resents very much being given a good meal only when the wife has her eye on his purse. Do not dis¬criminate in your hubby's feed¬ing, using good quality food only as a prelude to some demand.

With these rules you can't go wrong. I'll share with you some more secrets at the time of the diamond jubilee of our marriage, till then, practice these.


Silence of the city


I am just back from a village. How I love the silence of the city! The regular drone of• rickshaws and scooters forms a steady noise. It is soothing to my ears, harassed by the two nights I spent in the village.
At last, I think, I am back from the fast and dangerous village life to safe, secure, slow city-life. The feeling is invigorating.
Something wrong, do you think?
Do you think that the position of the words 'city' and 'village' is changed by mistake? Not so. Let me tell you the whole story, beginning at the beginning!
I was invited to deliver a lecture at Mouje Babhulwadi. I was thrilled. I asked the headmaster who had come to invite me, "Is this Babhulwadi a village?"
"Yes".
"Is it calm and quiet and unpol¬luted?"
"Calm and quiet---Hmmm-- - yes-- you can call it that, if you want.”
Will you arrange for me to stay there for a couple of more days?"
"Well. That can be easily arranged. You can stay with the Sarpanch.''
"Okay, then, when you go back, tell the Sarpanch. What is his name?”
"Patil.”
"Yes, then tell Mr. Patil that after the lecture, I will stay for 3-4 days more. To enjoy village life.”
The headmaster looked at me in disbelief.
"To enjoy village life?"
“Yes. To enjoy village life.” I confirmed.
Well, I reached the village alone as per directions, and my lecture was over. It can be said to be a success, only there was a video theatre near the ground where I delivered the lecture, and there was a short quarrel between the organizers of the lecture and the owner of the video theatre.
After that the movie began and the outside loudspeaker which was playing filmy songs and which was the cause of the quarrel, went silent. I started the lecture and then I saw the crowd thinning out as the movie in the video theatre started.
After dining with the Sarpanch Mr. Patil, he put the woven rope bed for me in the courtyard. I was happy to be out of that stuffy house and into the open air.
"Do you require a mattress, or a bed sheet will do?" he asked.
“A mattress will be better.” said I.
He murmured something, went inside and gave me a mattress. I was looking at the stars and finding how jolly it was when suddenly a dog yelped. Its barking provoked some hundred other dogs and their barking continued for some twenty minutes. Then everything was quiet again. I was feeling sleepy and was about to drop off when again the dogs gave tongue. This continued, and sitting up in the bed I found the reason. Straight opposite me was an arrack den, and when anyone entered or emerged, this dog interlude took place.
Then a man emerging threw a sizable stone at the dogs but it missed them and caught me on my shin as I was trying to sleep again. I yelped in pain and kept massaging the shin. There was nothing else to do.
May be due to the fatigue and the pain, may be because of decreased frequency of the dog interlude, I was asleep again. Suddenly, I woke up with a start. There was some filmi song suddenly blaring in the night.
The lights at the video theatre were on and the loudspeaker went on playing the noisiest songs till the next show, which was after one hour. I looked at my wristwatch. It. was two in the morning. My skin is very sensitive to mosquitoes, and it was a good thing that I had brought my thick bed sheet, with which I had covered myself completely. After the first show was over, the frequency of the arrack -den visitors increased to the accompaniment of the canine symphony!
Then the second show at the video theatre started and, within half an hour, there was the sound or the police siren which woke me up. For the next hour or two there was chaos at the theatre as the raid seemed to be in progress! Must have been some objectionable cassette.
At last, in the morning, I snatched some sleep. I was just awake, my head still covered with the thick bed sheet, with the sun filtering through when I heard the Sarpanch speak to his