The sting in the golf tale

DESPITE the oppressive heat, I reluctantly agreed to an afternoon round of golf as a group of golfers needed a player to complete their four-ball. We teed off at 3:30 pm. As we were strolling down the fairway for our second shot, a swarm of yellow wasps descended upon us out of nowhere, catching us off guard. Being familiar with these wasps (we often see them during summers), we knew that it was best to refrain from sudden movement to avoid provoking them.

But one golfer from our group got skittishly nervous and started frantically flailing his golf club through the air to shoo them away. To his bewilderment, the wasps went berserk. Leaving us alone, they started buzzing around him. The harder he tried to escape, the more aggressively they swarmed around him.

The summer’s arrival heralds a sudden surge in wasp activity. They transform inconspicuous nooks into bustling hive zones. A tiny crevice in the wall, the grates of an electricity meter or the sheltered confines of an AC outdoor unit, all become favourite places for their rapidly expanding hives.

As a child, I found these buzzing invaders a source of frequent torment. I vividly remember the sharp, burning pain of wasp stings. Even the school was not spared. Without a warning, a swarm would appear, turning a quiet classroom into a chaotic scene of ducking and shrieking. (I’m sure the drone-makers must have picked up a lot from them).

In the meantime, we were shouting at our nervous partner to stay still and not swing his club and arms around. However, by the time the ground staff managed to rescue him, a few wasps had already stung him. The first-aid kit was promptly brought in, ice packs were applied and an anti-allergy tablet given to him.

While everyone around was busy comforting him, the tragedy that struck business magnate Sunjay Kapur while he was playing polo in London flashed in my mind. He had apparently swallowed a bee while chasing the ball on a gallop; this freak incident had caused a fatal heart attack. The news had disturbed me. During my tenure as the Director General of Police, Haryana, we had invited Sunjay and Karisma Kapoor (they weren’t divorced then) as guests of honour at the All India Equestrian Meet, which was hosted by the state police on their sprawling grounds at Madhuban.

We were now talking about that horrifying incident in England, and our partner knew that he was lucky to get away with a few minor stings.

“Hey! Come on! Let’s get back to the game,” we egged him on and played a few more holes before it got dark.

Musings