Everybody Loves a Compliment, Including You.

We had gone to an art exhibition, a rather high brow one filled with soft murmurs, floating wines, asymmetrical dresses and elongated accents. The artist was a man of repute, his resumé was a mile long peppered with names like Tate Modern, Centre Pompidou, The Museum of Modern Art. He came with the world’s stamp of approval and demanded to be admired.

I was blown by his work. I realised the hype around him was entirely justified. I told my friend, ‘We have to tell him how good his art is.’ She looked petrified and wanted to know why I would state the obvious to a genius. She refused to accompany me claiming I was an embarrassment.

I marched up to him, told him I loved his work and why it moved me so much. You should have seen him preen. It was almost like this was the first compliment he had ever received in his life. I could sense I made him unabashedly happy with my gushing. When I returned, my friend arched an eyebrow and rather cattily commented, ‘That went off well.’

It was a lesson for her and for me. Everybody loves a genuine compliment; whether you are the most accomplished triple PHD inventor or a shoe shine boy. It was also easy for me to compliment him for he was showing me a new world. It got me thinking about the people who fill my life with ordinary comforts. Have I ever told them how much I liked their work?

The dhobi who irons my clothes beautifully and even comes on a Sunday when called. The banana man who gives me six bananas in varying stages of ripeness so that they will last a whole week unspoilt. The maid who kept our house spotless when we were away on vacation. The friend who always remembered to ask, ‘Are you okay?’ All of us are the lucky beneficiaries of innumerable acts of care, which we never acknowledge.

Do we not express our gratitude to these people because we forget? Is it too obvious? Is it because it will sound corny? I have a friend whose husband makes sure her wallet has enough change for the auto and her phone is always charged. I asked her if she had ever told him how lucky she is to have someone do that. She looked at me as if I had asked her to carry an orangutan to office. ‘Don’t be silly, he’ll think I’ve gone nuts if I say stuff like that.’ I kept quiet and didn’t take the conversation further.

That night she called, ‘You know when I told him, he was so touched. He thought I never noticed!’  I hung-up and went to bed with a smile on my face, thinking of the compliment I’m going to give my partner, tomorrow.

Still Figuring It Out’ a funny, sad, questioning take on adulthood will appear every Saturday on Asianet Newsable. Arathi Menon is the author of Leaving Home With Half a Fridge, a memoir published by Pan Macmillan. She tweets at here. The views expressed here are her own.