Right Ho!

My world changed when I was twelve. Fate took the shape of my dear uncle. He whisked Doctor Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse into my room and gently showed Nancy Drew and The Sweet Valley Twins the door. "Not enough room", he shrugged.

I looked upon Wodehouse with a scowl. An unwelcome intruder. I tried my best to get along with him. His language was weird, endearments shocking to my 'novice' ears. "Old egg", "Fish Face." "Old Bean." "My dear old crumpet." I shivered at the blasphemy. Blokes and chappies made their foray into my life. I did not like Betram Wilberforce Wooster and the high-browed Jeeves. But nevertheless I plodded on. Then Sir Wodehouse left. I breathed a sigh of relief.

A few weeks later, my uncle brought Sir Wodehouse again for a visit and along with him, Picadilly Jim. And then, I fell in love. Head Over Heels. Never to get up again. For sometime, the only verbs in my life were 'laughing', 'grinning', 'chuckling', 'chortling', 'giggling', 'guffawing'. I think you get the drift now. Or to make a long story short, I was happy. I was in love.

Many a joyful hours passed in the company of Sir Wodehouse. He brought along many merry men with him - Bertie (yeah, I finally grew very fond of him), Freddie, Psmith, Ukridge and last but not the least, The Empress Blandings. Names made me guffaw - Gussie Fink-Nottle, Glossop, Pongo, Bingo Little etc. Should I attribute it to my insanity or to Dr. W's ingenuity?

He taught me that it IS enough to be good, gentle and benign. His verbs, nouns, adjectives, endearments, sentences, plots are buried deep within me. Inextricably. He changed the way I looked at the world. My passion for books grew by leaps and bounds. (I never could take to the ragbag of bestsellers thanks to Wodehouse. Their dishonesty repelled me.)

He visits me now or rather I pop in at his place, not infrequently, especially when I am blue. I bask in his healthy humour. The colour comes back to my cheeks and my blues vanish. Indeed, what more can I ask of a friend?