Butter fingers!

“Butter fingers” is a term used in Cricket. It refers to a terrible fielder. The ball has landed in his palm. It is a “dolly catch”- he must only cup his fingers around the ball. Still, he makes a mess of it and drops the ball. It’s as if his fingers are greased with butter- so slippery, that the ball goes in and out!

By no means are butterfingers restricted to Cricket. You find butterfingers everywhere. Invariably, the most interesting items in the refrigerator are placed farthest away from your orbit. It is Murphy’s law. The delicacy could be anything- maybe, delicious “paayasam” or a jar with raw-mango pickle. The moment you open the fridge, the urge is irresistible.  Impatiently, you extend your arm to reach out for the distant delicacy. “Butterfingers” strikes at that opportune moment! As your fingers grip the paayasam, the forearm grazes the milk-tumbler sitting in front. The result is total disaster. The tumbler tumbles and milk flows down the refrigerator trays like a cascading waterfall! In an impulse, you try to save the milk, and now, butterfingers strikes a second time. You topple the paayasam too! The Butterfinger has only one response, “Who placed this silly, glass of milk in the fridge? That too, day before yesterday’s milk! Now, look what has happened!”

Ghee has caused more havoc than any other kitchen commodity. The butter-finger human and the ghee-container are companions who are made for each other. Let’s face it, the ghee container is invariably sticky and slippery on the outside. Even the safest pair of hands can fumble. The Butterfinger has no hope. He yanks the container from the shelf, only to watch it slip and slide past the fingers helplessly. The aftermath cannot be spelt out in words. The floor stays sticky for days on end, with ghee’s aroma wafting in the air, despite several bouts of cleaning. It serves as a stark reminder to one and all- the extent of damage, the Butterfinger is capable of!

When you visit a south-indian home in the late afternoon, you are sure to be served hot, filter coffee. More traditional the home, more likely that the coffee will arrive in an ever-silver “tumbler” (with no handle), and a matching bowl. Looking at my butterfingers, the host gets nervous, “Can I get a mug for the coffee?” “No! No! I am used to drinking coffee like this! I drink coffee all the time!” I lie through my teeth. My fingers are normally steady. But when so many prying eyes are scrutinizing my move, the pressure is intense. “Butterfinger” strikes. The tumbler is too hot to handle. In my attempt to pour the coffee into the saucer, it completely flies off the trajectory. And now, the trousers are stained and so is the gleaming, new sofa! The host is bubbling with anger, but blurts out a cosmetic, “No! No!  Don’t worry! It’s ok!” and rushes for the cleaning-cloth. The Butterfinger makes a hasty exit! His defence is genuine, “Does someone serve coffee right out of a furnace, I say? Thank God, I did not drink that coffee! It would have burnt my tongue, my throat, my esophagus and all else!”   

For the Butterfinger, “buffet meals” are a total no-no. The plate is filled to the brim- with butter-naan, paneer-dish, colored-rice, pachidi, puran-poli, gulab-jamun and of course curd-rice. All he needs is a spoon to start the proceedings. He cannot wait! The left hand holds the plate. The right hand reaches for the spoon arranged on the side-table. “Butterfinger” strikes. The left-hand with the plate tilts just that wee bit. The tremor is enough to trigger an entire avalanche. What can he do? The naan and paneer, the rice and sweet hurtle down, in one enormous sweep, and before he knows, the landslide has splattered food everywhere, including dousing curd-rice on the dress of the unwary guest, standing next in line. The Butterfinger makes a hasty exit, of course.

Surprisingly, butter-fingers follow you into the restroom too! Soaps are slippery fellows and for a butter-finger, even more so. Just when you are taking a bath, and have soaped half your way, the soap flies out of hand. You try to catch it once, twice, thrice. It toys with you each time, eludes your grasp, and manages to fall right into the toilet! It is a strange situation- you cannot fish it out, you cannot flush it down, you cannot ask for external help (given your delicate condition). This is "trishanku-avasthaa". The Butterfinger, peering through the soap, is naturally miffed, “Who designs these restrooms, with absolutely no thought, placing the bathing zone and the toilet, co-located, I say?”

The last I heard, Butterfingers was practicing with a new soap in the restroom- to take soap catches, like Suryakumar Yadav, even when the soap flies right over the boundary line!