The season of giving

As the holiday season approaches and residents get ready to go away on holiday, the eternal problem of what to get for whom crops up once again. Lists of would-be recipients of our largesse are drawn up but, after an auspicious beginning, one is left with question marks over the suitability of the gift and, of course, the budget one has to work within.

No one likes to contemplate the possibility of one's present being advertised in the classified section as "unwanted gift for sale". So, a lot of thought has to go into the gesture. What does one give someone who already seems to have everything? Or a person who is known to be finicky and hard to please? One reads about the best gifts being those in which one has invested time and effort, a labour of love so to speak. This implies the possession of certain skills such as embroidery, painting or carpentry. Realising one's deficiencies in these areas, one is forced to take the easy way out. Go to the nearest shopping mall and start the treasure hunt.

Unfortunately, with the advent of globalisation, everything one sees is available everywhere else. So, one has to think "ethnic" and "original". Instead of taking coals to Newcastle, one shall shop for items that are representative of the place where one resides. Think "camels", "sand", "shisha" and "carpets". But this innovative thinking comes up against two hurdles - baggage and budget limits. Once again, a change in tack is required. This is when you realise the resilience of the human spirit.

Setback

Unfazed by this setback, we put on our thinking caps yet again. At no point in time does it occur to us to abandon the quest by going some place where one doesn't know a soul and hence no obligation to come bearing gifts.

Living as we do far away from home, we are, like Sisyphus, condemned to keep going.

The King of Corinth was condemned in Tartarus to roll ceaselessly up a hill a huge stone which would roll back to the foot of the hill again each time he neared the top. In other words, his efforts were laborious and futile. Just like our attempts to please everybody wherein we end up pleasing no one, not even ourselves.

My personal quest for something "different" led me recently to a tiny shop which had been described to me as nondescript and with hardly any standing space within. Undeterred by the uninviting description, I ventured into the unknown, with hope my only companion. Just how accurate the sketch of this shop was can be gauged by the fact that I walked past it several times never imagining that this could be it. But it was the real thing.

As I entered I nearly tripped over some of the items which covered nearly every available inch of floor space. My entry was hailed by the loquacious owner who took one long look at me as if he were sizing up my net worth. Then started the salesman's patter, assuring me that everything here was "branded" and that he could vouch for the quality. My first reaction was to ask how was it possible to find anything in that mess but, having been drilled from childhood on the importance of being polite to strangers, I held my tongue.

Sensing my indecision, I was encouraged to squeeze myself into a corner of the shop overflowing with goods and examine what passed as a cosmetic counter.

Almost every item in that cramped corner looked like it had lain there for aeons, untouched by human hands. Not sure whether I should stay or make a dash for freedom, I was stunned to observe a steady stream of customers while I stood there dithering. They came, they looked (swiftly) and haggled. Goods passed hands more rapidly than one could blink. Watching this flurry of activity from my vantage point, I soon realised that this really was a treasure trove.

The only problem was that all the other pirates knew exactly where to look while I stood there perplexed and with a profound sense of alienation.