There is no itch-guard for fingering!

Raju Korti
Of the entire complex human anatomy, it is always the big players that hog the limelight -- the heart, the liver, the pancreas, the lungs -- et al, basking in their glow. The poor little finger hardly gets the nod. Nobody even thinks of writing an ode, forget a sonnet, for the finger. No one waxes poetic about its nimble dexterity or pointed poking. Little wonder, the finger suffers from a constant itch, a rebellion against its underappreciated existence. 

A GIF image

The finger, however, has its moments in the anatomy spotlight. All it has to do with its obtrusive personality is to is to tinker and probe posteriors. Except its owner's. So here is to the "finger" that does what comes best to its owners -- fingering. A tribute to the unsung hero and warrior vying for a place in human strife!

The finger, that diminutive, restless digit, has taken upon itself -- with understandable vengeance -- to get an itch for interference. All fingers have their roles, but the finger -- the one that can't sit still -- is uniquely equipped to poke, prod and stir with an almost hypnotic insistence. It has an inbuilt radar for naughtiness, trained to find the precise spot to press for maximum effect. You know what that spot is. I call it the G-spot.      

The finger is multi-talented and versatile. It is both a tool and a weapon, subtle yet relentless, with an itch that only intensifies with each jab. It has an innate ability for an unquenchable urge, forever in search of something -- or someone -- to butt in and justify its sadistic existence. The noble art of fingering transcends languages, cultures and generations. The itch turns the tool into a weapon by those who must poke and prod to keep the world buzzing with their unsolicited guidance.

The finger is "others' envy, owner's pride." You know their types. The itch inspires them for a mental nudge that leaves others scratching from their heads to their G-spot. The Finger Masters of the universe know there is no lotion to cure the irritation caused by them. Finger is a baton that can create a symphony of interruptions. More the chaffing, the sleeker it gets. Watching everyone squirm is their (seats, where else?) cherished sport and pastime.

The finger, like the terrorist, has no religion. It can be secular, liberal and conservative.  It is high time fingering is considered an international sport. With so many ardent practitioners and compulsive competitors, it should be given an Olympic status. Finger-waggers (my coinage, before you unleash your finger at me) deserve a special place in the hall of fame. If the cosmos has any sense of humour, it will bring a cutting edge to a competition where the war will will be fought with a finger of one hand while the other is busy shielding its own backside.              

While we live in a world where Finger Maestros reign supreme, ruling not with a heavy hand but a nimble finger, we must also understand that without them, life would be just a bit too finger(ing) free. So keep fingering. Ungli salaamat toh ...... 

Here is my ode to the finger and fingering.

Oh, the noble finger, restless and bold,
Forever itching, forever cold,
Heart and brain steal all the acclaim
You poke and prod your way to fame.
You ruffle feathers, you stir the broth
A reminder to all: I am here too.