​SWINISHLY YOURS

Somewhere near the beginning of 'Anna Karenina', Tolstoy depicts a tea-party scene in an aristocratic set-up. The topic under discussion is love marriage and it causes an old princess to wonder whether people still marry for something as outdated as love. You would think that one of the younger ladies would object to the remark, but all that happens is that someone among them ends up comparing love to Scarlett fever. If you get it once, she says, you're safe from subsequent attacks. Another lady goes on to talk about how her inoculation at the hands of a domestic help saved her a lot of trouble in later life; about how it equipped her to better wade through the mires of society. And so the discussion goes....
 
Prone as I am to drawing parallels, my own sip of tea brings to mind inoculation of another sort. I set thinking about the annual swine-flu shots for the family. However, given the already restricted social interactions ordained by Corona, I’m instantly nudged towards second thoughts. Then there also stands the standard argument of each year ushering in its own new strain of the virus. Clearly, the vaccine’s efficacy isn’t a sure thing.
 
 
I guess the attendees at Tolstoy's tea-party may have been mistaken. Love definitely cannot be compared to something as innocuous as Scarlett fever. The tea sippers would be more on mark if they likened it to an ailment more potent, an ailment with multiple intractable strains. Something like swine flu perhaps. Not very romantic, you say? But then, you’re obviously aware of that old saying about casting pearls before the likes of us.