Non amo te

"Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere - quare; Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te."

Relax. This is not a Latin lesson blog. It is just that translating the above extempore saved satirist Tom Brown from getting expelled.

It's a well-known little poem.

I do not love thee, Doctor Fell,
The reason why, I cannot tell;
This I know, and know full well,
I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.

We all experience instant and inexplicable dislikes at sometime or other: of people, perhaps food, or a city, a fad or a figure of speech. I have my share of things I dislike without any real or rational reason. I am sure you do, too.

Why does this happen? Is it some unconscious reading of body language? Is it pheromones? Is it some gut level instinct?

It's not just a question of 'first impressions', which might explain the instant dislike we take to people or sights or voices over the phone. There'd been instances in chat-rooms, when I'd form a violent dislike of one person, even if he or she hadn't addressed a single remark to me. How can someone sitting and typing half a world away raise my hackles and why?

But it happens. I fervently dislike a lot of things.

Madhuri Dixit's beaming smile, for instance. I swear I won't be able to recognise the woman if she wasn't grinning that face-splitting smile. Beauty products endorsed by her are advertised on sandwich boards on lampposts. I can't ride down Rash Behari Avenue without encountering her. And every time I see her pearly whites, I grit mine.

Aishwarya Rai: I tell you, this isn’t plain womanly envy for after all and good grief, the child is almost young enough to be my daughter. But I can't stand her wooden face. Granted, I haven't seen a single film that she (let's settle for worked), worked in. I just can't stand her face. The only time she brought me cheer was when I saw a picture of her with an imbecilic rictus of a grin and a 'what would be tubby by today's standards' midriff, gyrating for some dance item.

I dislike the 'press one to continue in English' kind of interactive voice response services, too. They expect you punch in either your recharge coupon number, which is a zillion digits long, or your credit card number. Why can't they have humans answer? Goodness knows there are enough bright people looking for a job, any job.

Listening to recorded voices recite back the number I punched in and figuring out that I may have got one digit wrong, and then to start all over again. That is something I dislike violently. If ever there is going to be a shooting squad assembled to execute the generators of half-witted ideas like having recordings replace human interaction when people call for help, I'd sign up; I'd even pay for my lessons and practice times on the range.

The inane Blind Date column in Times of India and the tired cliches the young people are reported to have exchanged. That really gets my teeth gnashing. Why can't they record the real conversations and reproduce them with the usual ums and ers that intersperse real chats?

People you have just met standing too close, invading your space? They might be nice and harmless, but my hackles rise.

A gallery owner lost a chance to make a sale to me because he kept coming too close to me in his eagerness to push a painting. I didn't realise it then, of course. It was only later, when I pondered why I walked out without buying that I realised that I felt pressurised. My discomfort and his pushiness combined to lose him that sale.

People who cheerfully grab your mobile and tell you "Hey, you have six missed calls and a coupla messages," and proceed to read them? I can't stand them, and that is all I am going to say about it. I don't want your monitors exploding, which they will, believe me, if I start.

Opinionated and vain twerps who veer off the topic and wax pedantic in discussions? Let's not go there, either. I can feel my blood pressure rising.

Of course, the 'I can't stand' litany varies from person to person. What's your pet hate? Do tell.

Cheers!