<p>In the pandemic, while the youngsters should conserve energy and enthusiasm to build a better, pleasant and promising future, the old can use this indoor time to hark back on the pleasant memories of the past. Here is one such pleasant instance.</p>.<p>During my itinerant years working as an auditor at a prestigious bank, I had to once stay put in the town of Kundapura for a few days. Flaunting my literary pretensions, I took time off on a Sunday to visit Dr Shivarama Karanth, the versatile Kannada litterateur, who was then camping at a nearby place. Two of my young colleagues followed me in tow.</p>.<p>On reaching the place, we were ushered into a large hall, where Dr Karanth, sporting his familiar moustache and the mane of longish grey hair neatly combed back, and surrounded by about a dozen boys and girls, was rehearsing for a <span class="italic"><em>Yakshagaana</em></span> ballet. Nervous and fidgety, we saluted the celebrity writer, trying to articulate a few words of greetings to him. Informal as ever, the great man of many parts answered us with a few words, even as he continued to dance around with his deft, measured steps, directing his pupils.</p>.<p>The veteran writer then turned to his juvenile minions and bade them: “ You see we have guests! Some of you welcome them, and accord them the usual courtesies.” A boy and a girl soon sprang to their feet. Enacting the role of pious householders, they started cavorting around with their dancing steps, supplicated us by gestures of welcome, and mimicked the acts of offering seats, water or coffee to drink. They mimed making inquiries like “Where do you come from? And why? Whom do you want to meet, so on, so forth.” And offering a repast to us, striking poses and gestures.</p>.<p>Our distinguished host then turned to us, and hollered: “Hey, you dudes! Why are you sitting glumly; glued to your seats? Do respond, my friends”</p>.<p>His prompting proved to be most effective. My young companions jumped to their feet instantly and started ecstatically capering around all across the place, making all manner of hilarious gesticulations.</p>.<p>Our veteran host then turned to me, and struck a dancing posture: “Now, how about you, my dear sir!” I did rise to my feet. Being an old slowcoach, however, I do not know whether I danced or dithered. The childlike spirit of all the mime was unalloyed frolic.</p>
<p>In the pandemic, while the youngsters should conserve energy and enthusiasm to build a better, pleasant and promising future, the old can use this indoor time to hark back on the pleasant memories of the past. Here is one such pleasant instance.</p>.<p>During my itinerant years working as an auditor at a prestigious bank, I had to once stay put in the town of Kundapura for a few days. Flaunting my literary pretensions, I took time off on a Sunday to visit Dr Shivarama Karanth, the versatile Kannada litterateur, who was then camping at a nearby place. Two of my young colleagues followed me in tow.</p>.<p>On reaching the place, we were ushered into a large hall, where Dr Karanth, sporting his familiar moustache and the mane of longish grey hair neatly combed back, and surrounded by about a dozen boys and girls, was rehearsing for a <span class="italic"><em>Yakshagaana</em></span> ballet. Nervous and fidgety, we saluted the celebrity writer, trying to articulate a few words of greetings to him. Informal as ever, the great man of many parts answered us with a few words, even as he continued to dance around with his deft, measured steps, directing his pupils.</p>.<p>The veteran writer then turned to his juvenile minions and bade them: “ You see we have guests! Some of you welcome them, and accord them the usual courtesies.” A boy and a girl soon sprang to their feet. Enacting the role of pious householders, they started cavorting around with their dancing steps, supplicated us by gestures of welcome, and mimicked the acts of offering seats, water or coffee to drink. They mimed making inquiries like “Where do you come from? And why? Whom do you want to meet, so on, so forth.” And offering a repast to us, striking poses and gestures.</p>.<p>Our distinguished host then turned to us, and hollered: “Hey, you dudes! Why are you sitting glumly; glued to your seats? Do respond, my friends”</p>.<p>His prompting proved to be most effective. My young companions jumped to their feet instantly and started ecstatically capering around all across the place, making all manner of hilarious gesticulations.</p>.<p>Our veteran host then turned to me, and struck a dancing posture: “Now, how about you, my dear sir!” I did rise to my feet. Being an old slowcoach, however, I do not know whether I danced or dithered. The childlike spirit of all the mime was unalloyed frolic.</p>