When Murphy’s Law runs riot

Nothing can be more frustrating than to have one’s personal and meticulously drawn-up plans thwarted at the eleventh hour by unforeseen developments. Something totally unexpected crops up now and then, most inopportunely of course, disrupting one’s habitual routine or a much-anticipated family outing, a holiday abroad, or a get-together. In the process one is left sulking — if not, outright morose.

It’s Murphy’s Law, of course, at diabolical work. Pitted against it, one usually faces a no-win situation. Then, even the best laid-out plans are inevitably destined to go awry.

Such exasperations are many: the intruder, usually a salesman, who repeatedly thumbs your doorbell when you are napping post-lunch after a stressful morning at work. Or an idling neighbour drops in for a chat, uninvited, when you are struggling to complete an urgent official assignment at home. Or you return from work dog-tired, looking forward to peace and quiet — only to be greeted by uproar and bedlam, courtesy the clamorous and inconsiderate tourists in the adjacent homestay. Or, to your acute dismay, the water supply is disrupted only when you have a houseful of guests. Or, puncturing your cherished reputation for punctuality, one fateful day you are unavoidably delayed and reach the office late to find that the boss has come in unexpectedly early and, what’s worse, has summoned you thrice.

Way back in 1975, a friend and I stood in the blistering heat in a mile-long queue that snaked towards the ticket-counter of a cinema in Kochi where the blockbuster film Sholay had just been released. Perspiring profusely, we patiently inched along buoyed by the prospect of seeing the much-publicised movie. Therefore, imagine our utter consternation when, on reaching the ticket-counter at long last, the clerk abruptly shuttered his window with the laconic remark, “Sorry, houseful!”

Sometimes Murphy’s Law operates with gleeful gusto. A colleague who had booked three suites in a posh resort in Ooty for a long-awaited family reunion that he had organized, had to cancel it at the last minute due to unforeseen exigencies of official work. Understandably, he was thoroughly dejected. Worse, it turned out to be a double whammy for him: he had to forego not only a much anticipated family get-together, incurring the vocal displeasure of irate relatives, but also the hefty advance he had paid the resort since it was the peak tourist season!

Interestingly, now and then Murphy’s Law and the weather gang up unpredictably – sometimes to the advantage or disadvantage of our Indian cricket team. On some occasions a timely downpour has thankfully spared us a humiliating defeat, leaving our opponents acutely crestfallen; and on others, inopportune rainfall has disgustingly robbed us of a much-deserved victory much to our opponents’ undisguised relief! Is this perversity’s way of evening out its caprices?

Nonetheless, Murphy’s Law invariably spells serious setbacks. I recall that when Ratan Tata was in Munnar in 1997, the avocados I had specially ordered for him from Kochi arrived late, despite foolproof arrangements, depriving the dignitary of his breakfast staple on the first day of his visit. It was a lapse he accepted graciously. However, as the executive in charge of the Tata guesthouse where he stayed, I was utterly mortified. Strangely enough, on earlier occasions special food items ordered for lesser VIPs had arrived well in time!

It may sound cynical but I have found that if anything is planned too meticulously, chances are that it will somehow be maliciously mauled by the murky machinations of Murphy’s Law.

gnettomunnar@rediffmail.com