Confessions of a pair of sweaty palms

Congenital

Pronunciation: /kənˈdʒɛnɪt(ə)l/

adjective

• (of a disease or physical abnormality) present from birth:

a congenital malformation of the heart

(courtesy: Oxford Online)

These are the kind of words I used to dig up as a kid while constantly explaining my ‘situation’ to teachers, classmates, folks in the neighbourhood and poor unsuspecting strangers.

(In the midst of all that explaining, I did wonder sometimes what ‘genital’ was doing in there. And whether the word actually meant something totally different and a lot more embarrassing. But that’s a different story.)

Having sweaty palms isn’t much of a deal at all, if

      a. you’re acutely asocial.

      b. you’re loathed and detested by everybody, and so universally avoided.

      c. you’re hypochondriac, and believe that any kind of physical contact with a human is the same as  cuddling a Black Mamba.

      d. you’re Karl Lagerfeld.

For good or bad - and some might disagree - I don’t belong to any of the categories above. And that means I’ve had my share of embarrassing handshakes and high-fives. Not to mention an overdependence on handkerchiefs, messy answer sheets and notebooks, and a string of mobile phones gone kaput.

But I’m going to set aside the personal damage and inconvenience for now to focus on the social fallout of this congenital situation - the embarrassing handshakes and high-fives.

For some reason or the other, the handshake has sort of become the standard way to greet people (What’s wrong with the desi ‘Namaste’, I ask? At least that would’ve solved half my life’s problems). And if you’re a professional, a handshake’s always lurking around the corner. Now, if I see a handshake approaching from far, I take preemptive measures. But it’s these lurking-around-the-corner ones that are the most dangerous. I mean, here I am, sweaty palms and all, and you decide to ambush me with a smile on your face and an extended handshake. What do you expect me to do? Wipe my hands right there in front you? No way. So I give it to you. With a big smile and all. It’s you who’ll be doing the wiping now. And the change in facial expression? Priceless.

Next are the high-fives.

Pep talks. Bad jokes. Pay days. A vacant parking spot. All these and a gazillion other things seem to call for a high-five. Now high-fives are a lot more sinister than handshakes. Because there’s the matter of the ‘threshold impact’. Here’s what it’s all about: high-fives are usually an expression of joy or excitement. They are preceded by statements like ‘I just downloaded WhatsApp!!’ or the elusive ‘I just booked a Tatkal ticket on IRCTC!!!!’ Greater the level of excitement, greater is the physical force behind the high-five and hence, greater the impact. Now if you are giving me a high-five, and you happen to cross the threshold impact, the high-five will generate a mini sweat spray that will not only land up on both of our faces, but also of those around us. I’m not kidding.

Interestingly, I’ve been told by quite a few people – mostly elders – that sweaty palms are a sign of riches in the future. What’s even more interesting is that the same bunch had tried to sell me the ‘future riches’ story when they had first noticed my receding hairline. At this point in life, here’s what I want to tell them: