This, this is an abomination! The whole thing is rigged! It’s a disgrace!”
I am really thankful to God that my wife’s vocabulary of swear words is limited. ‘An abomination’ is the most vile word that she uses, and that too when she is incensed beyond limits. I kept quiet, hoping she would cool down soon. But I was wrong. For another hour, she kept muttering oaths and cuss words stranger than any thought of in my philosophy.
Most families have annual rituals. Rituals like playing cards on Diwali or getting the whole brood to gather at Christmas or the annual staycation in some five-star hotel because frequent flyer points are about to lapse. Stuff like that. Well, my wife and I are different. Not for us these mundane rituals. Instead, we observe the annual Lamentation of the Nobel Not Awarded To Me Day. This is preceded by a week-long vigil before the television, throughout which my wife makes me sit by her side with fingers crossed till the Nobel Prize for Peace is announced. Sad to say, year after year, I do not get the prize.
Things reached a critical point last year, when once again my name was not announced. My dear wife was more indignant than usual, so besides damning the whole thing as rigged, she demanded to know, “Why haven’t they given it to you? Isn’t it a joke that Arafat, Shimon Peres and Rabin were jointly awarded the Prize in 1994 for efforts to create peace in the Middle East? Look at Obama? Look at Jimmy Carter? What did they do? They even gave it to that chit of a girl, Malala something. And for what? Just yakking! They gave the prize to a useless and toothless organisation like the UN? Then why not you?”
Illustration: Job P.K.
I could see the logic in her arguments. If they all can get it, why can’t I? Nonetheless, I consoled her. “Darling,” I said, “For someone to get the prize, his name needs to be nominated first. Maybe no one sent in my nomination.”
“I did,” said the wife with a sob. “I send your nomination every year.”
She was so heartbroken that I suggested that we could try alternate methods.
“Alternate methods? Like what?” she looked at me hopefully.
“Well, I am not proud about it, but I do know a couple of ‘bhai’ type goons. You could use their services, you know, but nothing drastic. Maybe just rough up some of those people who decide such matters? Or you could bribe a few of them. You remember that guy, Pole Vault or Wall Pole something, who declared that every man has his price? How much would a Norwegian parliamentarian demand? Why don’t we buy a few of them in Norway, the way we do in India?”
But my wife would have none of it. She believes I deserve the Nobel Peace Prize in my own right. She has never explained why she has this firm belief and I too had never questioned her—I had always assumed that this was yet another way in which she expressed her love for me.
Then, some days back, they announced the award for 2024. “This joker, Nihon Hidankyo, has been given the Peace Prize!” she screeched!
“Do you know who he is?” I asked, quite puzzled.
“No, I don’t. And I don’t care. I am sure it must be a typo. Instead of your name, some careless jack-in-office has typed the name Nihon whatever,” she declared.
Ever since the announcement of Hidankyo’s name, my wife and I have been waiting to be informed that there had been an error. But there is still no confirmation that it is actually I who has been conferred the award. Regretfully, I have to now accept the possibility that there has been no error. Only a mistake—they selected the wrong candidate. Once again.
Seeing how miserable the old girl has been these past few days, I mustered the courage yesterday to ask her why she is so convinced about my suitability for the award and why she waits with bated breath every year, only to be disappointed once more. I said, “Why do you keep insisting that I should get the Nobel Peace Prize? Why not the chemistry nobel or the physics nobel? Or even the economics prize?”
“You stupid man, don’t you know? For getting the Nobel for medicine or chemistry, etcetera, you actually need to have done something. The clowns who win those prizes might not be the best in their field, but at least they have accomplished something. It is only the Peace Prize that is given to non-performers and non-achievers. People like you! It is not given for actually doing anything, silly! It is awarded only for talking. And you are a great at that. Talk, talk, talk, talk. If you don’t deserve it, who does?”
Her logic is impeccable. Now, even I am hopeful! Let us see if next year the Norwegian Nobel Committee has the good sense to recognise true peace making talent.
K.C. Verma is former chief of R&AW. kcverma345@gmail.com