Years back, during my school days, one hot summer evening I returned home all grimy and sweaty after a few hours of exhilarating outdoor games with friends. Grandma promptly screwed up her nose and said `go and bathe'. One of my sisters, without looking up from the book she was reading, very casually suggested that a dirty cat had brought a very dead rat home! Mother shook her head the usual way and looked askance with a wry smile. True to form, I royally ignored every form insult and taunt, had my bath and made a glorious re-entry, all cleaned and spruced up, in a rather satisfied state of mind. That was when my mother asked me `What are those dark blotches around both your ankles? Could n't you scrub yourself properly'? My sense of happiness ebbed immediately and I looked at my ankles - yes, there were two semi-dark patches, one on each ankle, etched in symmetry as if someone deliberately planted them there. I did not, at that time, realise that what I was witnessing was the beginning of a family drama which was going to last a few weeks!!
By then, an audience of sisters and other senior household ladies had gathered around as if they were being treated to a world-class spectacle, not to be misssed. They were curious to see what I had got this time! `Come here' said grandma, always the presiding deity, and carefully examined the damage suspiciously, without touching the spots. She declared `Looks like some insect bite, which is spreading' and sought clarification from the patient if there was any pain. I said no and she expertly decreed that coconut oil should be applied to the spots for the next week or more, in order to first arrest the spread and then get rid of the patches. The tremendous interest the patches had generated earlier, dissipated quickly and everyone went back to what he/she was doing - nobody even attempting to fetch the coconut oil. When I brought the oil, grandma directed me to apply it myself without anyone's assistance, because the patches might be infectious and we did not want the whole family getting infected and immersing in coconut oil soon.
At that time, no one had an inkling that we were all part of a two-month extended episode, which would involve a whole lot of speculation, mirth, discussion, verbal volleys and weird recommendations, not restricted to our family. As the patches became slowly darker and spread wider, as if some internal spider was relentlessly weaving a design under the skin; make it two spiders, because two ankles had to be covered, unless a spider could finish one ankle and travel all the way in the blood stream up and down. The awful part was, coconut oil did not do the job and grandma had started on a complex paste with five ingredients, to be applied on the ankles three times a day - that meant the ankles stayed covered by home made bandage (pieces of old, torn dhotis transformed into this avtar). But the old lady insisted there was no need to seek any medical help because she had seen and treated darker patches, which could react to allopathy medicines; she brooked no challenge on that count. All this while there was no serious problem since I had no pain, not even a desire to scratch the affected part. So, it was all fun and frolic for the family, with me playing the pliant and hapless protagonist.
Very soon, the matter became top news in the vicinity and all the unofficial home remedy peddlers from the neighbourhood visited, hoping to look at the patches and prescribe their solutions. Over the next month, everything available in the family grocery section and what the volunteers brought, free of charge from their homes, was used on me. There was always a small crowd waiting for me to come back from school, all equipped with their wares, to get to work and insert something new into the bandage. I recall ghee being used, turmeric, tulasi, cinnamon and garlic in the first installment. after a while, grandma could not resist the onslaught of multiple practitioners and gave up with indignation, with her customary declamation `Okay, do what you want, but all this is not going to work'. Even then she characteristically refused to concede that she had no other remedy in store either! After that some ten to fifteen different things were used in permutations and combinations in an effort to defeat the enemy, but no one succeeded.
The blotches were very stubborn and cocked many snooks at all the quacks from the neighbourhood, flourishing all the time and slowly extending their territorial boundaries, much like Russia is belabouring to do with Ukraine now. They did not seem infectious because no other region of my body got affected, but were obstinately refusing to budge. Since a lot of the neighbourhoold ladies were involved, during their gossip sessions, the blotches around the ankle were a fixed point of agenda and updates were given as to whether any new quackery had been administered. So much so that when I met on the road someone even remotely acquainted, the only question posed to me was about the `well-being' of the dark patches and the other party promptly went on to suggest yet another remedy!!
After applying all kinds of things for almost ten weeks, suddenly the patches started waning and all the quacks in the entire neighbourhood were beaming with satisfaction as if their own remedy had worked to solve the problem. Actually there was no telling what worked, because when fifteen different things were applied, nobody could pinpoint what addressed the issue. That was the time I learnt that if you apply or eat multiple things to solve one problem you cannot stop anything until well after the issue is fully resolved, simply because you dont know what to stop!! In truth, the actual remedy was an ointment our compounder had surreptitiously given me to apply daily, asking me not to inform my grandma because he was petrified of her. I followed his instructions fully and in complete secrecy to prevent the quacks from crying foul and prolonging the agony! Also to avoid incurring the wrath of the old lady for myself and the compounder.
Why am I narrating this now, you ask? Two weeks back, after a golf session, when I waded into some tall bushes to retrieve one of the many mishit balls, a felt some insect bite. When I came home, lo and behold, there were two dark patches, small ones, near the ankles. Now, there are no grandmas, mothers, sisters, neighbourhood ladies milling around and jostling to fix my problem. So I am my own quack now, using multiple creams and ointments to see how quickly I can get rid of the blemishes on my skin. Still trying after 3 weeks!! My dear wife says I never learn and she, as usual, is probably right. The dark blotches on the ankles I carry now are proof of that.
