Sachin T isn’t the only one waiting for his ton, the elusive hundred has been teasing a lot of people into depression. Because goals, and records, are individually set, it’s driving Sarla mad not being able to tell whether she does, or doesn’t, own a hundred pairs of shoes, since her daughter lays joint claim to several of them. But shoes are nothing to Pammi’s sorrow at not yet managing her hundredth pashmina shawl, of which she’s only a few short, though it’s a goal she’ll probably achieve this winter as soon as her kanjoos husband allows her to go splurge a few more lakhs “on the real thing” and not the nakli, synthetic cashmeres that Mrs Sharma and Mrs Verma try and pass off as “as toosh shawls, imagine!” in dim lighting. As for my son, he moans that he’s only got 73 pairs of slippers – that’s right, slippers – what’s not to want a hundred?
My heart bleeds for corporate India too, laggards in the century department. Vijay Mallya, the king of good times despite an ailing airline, has only managed a personal wealth of Rs 41.4 crore, but instead of building a financial century, he appears more upset at having to pose beside the co-owner of Force India for a photo-op. An extremely wealthy lawyer I know hasn’t yet managed his ambition of owning a hundred cars much to his wife’s disgust, who refuses to count the staff’s Altos and Nanos in their fleet that includes only sedans, sports utility vehicles and, of course, their own luxury and stretch limos. As for the collector aiming for a hundred Husains, he’ll have to wait a bit for the magic figure given the flak – and fakes – in the art market, though he’s apparently not above investing in some suspicious stuff to earn the envy of his wife’s kitty gang.
A hundred is a nice, happy number, no wonder vastu-wallahs are being commissioned to work with architects to design hundred-room houses in which you can include bathrooms but not dressing rooms. Others are less ambitious, aiming as low as a hundred different brands of single malts – but considerably more bottles of whisky, you understand – or five score apre-shaves, or the same number of store discount cards. Frequent flyers want to hit a hundred hours inflight before cashing in on the freebies, others are happy to settle for a hundred shirts, or ties, or jackets.
But for my wife, a number is nothing but hyperbole. “I gave away a hundred sarees,” she might tell her best friend Sarla after spring-cleaning her wardrobe and finding that some had become old merely from hanging in a corner, but could probably be fobbed off as presents for an unfortunate sister-in-law, or cousin – or even Sarla, if she was upset with her – with a little help from the local drycleaning service. If bottles of wine can be recycled ad-nauseum – open an old B&G only if you intend making pickle – what’s wrong with reusing a saree, or dress, as long as you haven’t been photographed wearing it on page three? As for dinner parties, she won’t settle for “anything less than a hundred dishes on the table”, even if they’re mostly made up of relishes and preserves from the fridge, and include the salt and pepper cellars on the sideboard.
Meanwhile, she’s set herself a goal too, of having “a hundred pieces of jewellery more than Sarla” which, given Sarla’s love for all things blingy, is rather a lot — but knowing my wife, she will get around to it, perhaps by the time she is hundred…
