I was watching The Animal Planet on television. Cameras were focused on a family of tigers somewhere in the African forests. A giant male, sitting majestically on a high rock, was surveying the area. He kept looking to his left and right and found there was no herd of cheetal, sambhar or any other prey in sight. Disappointed and bored, the tiger took a big yawn.
Even as I was watching him, by reflex action, I also yawned! The tiger lay on his side and closed his eyes for a siesta as the cubs frolicked around. But here, I did not feel like imitating him and lying down for a nap. That made me realise that only the yawn was contagious. Later, I repeated the act involuntarily whenever the big cat opened its mouth wide.
That gave me something to ponder. Why does it happen? How is it that the moment you see somebody or even some animal yawning, you also do the same. Forget about seeing. Even if you think of it or hear about it, the brain sends signals that make you yawn instantly.
One may say that we all yawn so what is so special about it? Well, there is something that makes the subject special. Why don’t we ape other actions of a person or animal? Why does only yawning by either of them lead us to imitate the act? I have often wondered if I could find an answer to the phenomenon. Happily, I discovered that scientists are already engaged in the exercise trying to find an answer to the mystery. In a study, the Duke Centre for Human Genome Variation in Durham, US, has found that contagious yawning occurs in humans as well as chimpanzees when they hear, see or even think about it. Published in London, the study said it differs from spontaneous yawning, which occurs when someone is bored or tired.
The Duke Centre had carried out a study for which 328 volunteers watched a video of people yawning and the researchers recorded the number of times they yawned. They did not find a strong link between contagious yawning and empathy, intelligence or time of the day. The only independent factor that significantly influenced contagious yawning was age, that is, as age increases, participants were less likely to yawn.
Here, I would like to point out the case of my daughter who strongly dislikes seeing anybody in her vicinity yawning, particularly when she is engrossed in her office work. It breaks her flow of thoughts, affects concentration and slows down speed, she says. So much so, that when we sit for a video chat, the first condition she lays down is that I should not yawn. I don’t know how I can check it. The act, she insists not only disturbs her thoughts, but gives her the feeling that whatever she was talking about was too boring for me.
Incidentally, a friend tells me that he had effectively used yawning to indicate to a visitor that he had spent sufficient time with him and it was time to leave. The visitor, said my friend, was talking non-stop. Even after the second round of tea, he was refusing to take the hint and would not budge from the cozy seat in the drawing room.
My friend and his wife had to go somewhere, but courtesy did not allow him to be blunt with the reluctant guest. So, he started yawning, not once but four–five times in quick succession. The trick worked. The guest got up, saying: “Oh. So, you are feeling sleepy. Okay. I’ll leave. Bye”
I wonder if, after reading this much, some of you readers have started yawning. If true, it will be unfair because for any inquisitive person the subject is not as boring as it may appear to be. Otherwise, why would scientists delve into it to find out the causes behind this?
Now, a confession. While writing this piece, I have y...a...w...n...e...d at least half a dozen times!
Lalit Raizada is a journalist based in India.
