boJy

I have this uncanny knack – of getting into tight corners but somehow get the needed support to wriggle out like an eel. Though till date , none of them had me grinning sheepishly.

However, before the curtain comes down, there is this high drama wherein I go through the grinding mill of anxiety, fright, etc. starting a  biological war in me - in the form of  sugar & blood pressure, both enjoying the nail biting and nerve racking suspense that I am being subjected to.

By now, whatever is the predicament, I have become an expert in predicting its likely course;  it starts with an advancement, accompanied by a delay, fuelled with loads of anxiety, followed by a train of self-doubts, and getting dumped at the allotted tight corner. Despite my experiences one thing I could not guess was ‘who or how I  will be saved on that day?’

Getting into ‘the tight corner’ is not always by chance but turns out to be my own making. Keeping counsel to myself  is obviously not a component in my blood and as a result, people around me, waited for a chance to push me into that corner - may be for the sheer joy of it, or to get even with me. Unfortunately, these people are endowed with elephantine memory - vividly recall  my pretentious nature to be a writer, editor, publisher, investigator, or political, legal, economical & medical consultant (read opinion - dispenser), finally a handyman in the house.

This time around, the tight corner materialised in the form of blood pressure on a roller-coaster (diastolic competing with systolic) and my daughter in law was forced to ride along on it. In this instance, I failed miserably to read the pitch and was totally unprepared to take any evasive measures, so to say 'landed in a tight spot wearing a blindfold'. The last straw on the camel's back was my self proclaimed ability as a caretaker -in-residence.Yes, my acclaimed skill set was to be utilised at my son's residence!

It all started with  a wait , for about 6 hours , at the airport for the take off. Meanwhile I tried to  engage an airline staff  in a verbal duel . After loosing considerable patience, I challenged him to show the actual aircraft that would fly to the destination. That poor staffer was afraid to even  blurt out that  he was only manning the check-in counters.

This he managed to say only after being bombarded with another of my sarcastic question: “Is the flight being scheduled at least before the end of the day?” Unable to bear the agony any longer, he vanished through one of those innumerable doors the airport has thoughtfully provided, may be for such occasions.

What went according to plan on that day was the journey from the destination airport to the place of my duty. The family welcomed me, tried to put me at ease and let me alone for awhile, to find my bearings (light switches, coffee powder, shops etc.). The first two days were like the beginning of a long summer vacation, of a school kid, and went off  quickly.

The co-opted consultant doctor (my saviour with a stethoscope?) declared that the health symptoms of the roller-coaster rider is becoming a little complicated. The medicines administered proving ineffective,  the doctor decided to try and control it  under better medical care – hospitalisation. This pronouncement left  me to keep company with dozens of  tenterhooks and pace in the hospital corridor. 

The in-patient  too must have been climbing mountains of  tension & anxiety in the solitude of the observation room. We, the attending staff  (My son and I) waited in the lounge – anxiously looking at each passing nurse or doctor expecting a better turn in the inpatient's condition. Our faces, competing with each other, mirroring psychedelic emotions of concern, anxiety, fright and a host of threatening feelings. An occasional ‘sinking feeling’  in the stomach complemented the emotions in exercising the facial muscles.

Unmindful of all these happenings, another person was in an eager hurry to join us, almost  2 months in advance.

Did I not tell you in the beginning itself, though caught in a tight spot, angels weave their magic to get me away safely! Somehow the consulting doctor too might have seen the angel coming ; decided to intervene and facilitate that event as smoothly and safely as possible. Before,we the attendants-in-wait could say something, a team of doctors took it upon themselves to go for a finite resolution and just informed us – we need to act fast !

If you think that, I had an easy time keeping my own BP, fright, tension and suspense under check – you are far wrong. A new cycle with all these seasoned ingredients engulfed me once again. I could only guess the feelings of my son standing besides me. In fact ,I could see my own worried face standing next to me. Each one of us could hear the other’s thudding heart beats and silent prayers ! To doubly make sure that our prayers reached the correct destination, mental journeys were made in secret to those places, without letting the other person know it.

Upon the arrival of the much awaited person, I expected to meet with and get a hand shake. It was not to be so, as I was wait-listed, for the day at least. A pinch of salt was all that I could fall upon as a remedy for my disappointment. At least,  I wished to say hello to my daughter-in-law , who had taken all the precautions and endured the troubles to bring home the person. 

This important family member, who had the charge of the VIP member, took about 3 hours, to put in an appearance, like a weary international traveller coming out of airport, after a long wait at the Customs counter. The moment I saw her settling down, heaved a sigh of relief and felt the over stretched nerves beginning to relax.

The memory of those 180 minutes will never go away from my mind. My partner-in–waiting might have felt like spending 360 minutes in the lounge area. May be he was experiencing the effect of a generation gap!

The VIP arrived, swathed in a wrapper - tight as a bundle. May be a little tired, feeling for all the troubles his mother had endured, yet happy that he too could contribute his little might to the issue. Now, under the care of his mother, he had no other concern to worry about. His face was mirroring all the serenity in the world and was sleeping blissfully. 

Three days later my tenure as caretaker ended, when I could say hello to the very important person of the family. I never imagined that such a nondescript job title will put me through a juicer and end in boJy – bundle of Joy!

Yes, a grandson has arrived into our family, giving a new meaning to the phrase ‘bundle of joy’.

The surgical divide -150-

Introduction:

We take many things in our life,  as available at our will or pleasure.This card house requires variety of glues to stay intact. This need will be felt only when an emergency comes calling to make us start counting our fortunes & friends. For both it might turn out to be an enlightenment! Can this experience be called pickling of nerves?

 Extreme experiences in life might give rise to the feeling that one is near or on edge of a precipice. This experience of being on edge differs from person to person and hence unforgettable and unique, as far as that individual is concerned. 

That over the hill experience can be described   like this: It is similar to an ace mountaineer, reaching the peak only to find the foothold slippery and getting scared of falling either over the peak or sliding back to the valley and yet determined to regain at least a toehold. 

The intervening period between the slip and the grip, and the experience of an emotional flux– is the state being on edge.

One such state of being scared and unsure is going under a surgeon’s scalpel, literally up to one’s neck, deep on a diet of anaesthesia, routed through the spinal column. Chest to cranium you are present and chest to toes you are immobilized like a stone.

Sensing a travel through unknown corridors, the demons of doubts and fears take control of the neurons. The brain, under seize, joins hands with these villains to generate nightmare after nightmare, struggling to take back its commanding role. 

Bathed in anaesthesia up to the chest, the patient starts experimenting with different version of fear psychosis. This process starts with a procession of gods, semi-gods and angels. The only doubt that remains unanswered is  "will I regain consciousness or slip into  coma?"

Now, the patient on the surgery table begins to see all the dark matters in the universe. Fear is such a powerful force and endows the patient   with special vision, to see even the dark matters, a feat impossible as per the laws of science! The patient has now become a full fledged citizen in the state of fright.

When all these things are happening on the surgical bed, another branch of science dealing with pure human emotions generates morbid thoughts, in the mind of an attending relative. The severity or intensity depends on whether one is a close relative or just a relative.

The sluice gates of the fluid bank get opened by moist palms, moistened lips with a racing heart ably assisting the process. The hospital floor suffers wear and tear; the flush in the wash room becomes tired.

The life threatening or severely inconveniencing malady gets corrected. The after effect of a surgery lingers on, not of anaesthesia, bothering the patient. Some get over it quickly and others carry it as a ghost from the past for a long time. May be these types can only forget things in instalments.

To describe the traumatic feelings, pre and post surgery, the best suited person is the person reliving the surgical trauma – words straight from the horse’s mouth.

The patient starts convalescing, testing the patience of dear and near with tales, liberally mixing them with horror, warnings and lectures in medical sciences. The negative impact these repeat recaps are capable of creating in others’ psyche, is simply forgotten.

Fearing a lesser stellar rating for the surgical experience, these recaps ,invariably tend to,  omit to mention the supporting role played by the one who stood by anxiously, outside the operation theatre!

This leaves the relative/attendant to recite the other side of the story; to whoever is willing to lend an ear needing a break from the previous one - less dramatically of course!

The attendant’s mind, under notice to churn out alternate scenarios, tries hard to cope up with a flood of improbable ideas as far fetched as the screenplay of a blockbuster. 

The attendant discovers that fear is a dipole and the lines of patient’s nightmares pass through his/her mind. The mere thought of the patient undergoing a surgical procedure is enough to reproduce the very same feelings and anxieties, strictly obeying the laws of magnetism!

Taking a small diversion, the procession of different set of gods, semi-gods and angels take to the streets of prayer, though the doubt – ‘will the operation end in success or cross the border into the no-man’s land – coma remains glued to the mind.

The attendant opens a register of friends & relatives who would come forward to donate a pint of blood, or chip in with a bundle of currency notes or a towel to cry into.

At the end the attendant feels whether the experience was worth the trauma?

The wails of an Automobile

I have plenty of reasons to lament.You are always in a hurry starting late to arrive at the destination early. Wondering how I know this – by the pressure on the accelerator and the racing of TDI or DTI engine. So,if you have a little time, please switch off your sound system and lend me your ears.

My birth place, the automobile industry has come a long way since the contraptions like a horse drawn buggies passed as cars. The new age automakers vie with one another to come up with cars/SUVs that drink less and gobble up on kilometers. To me it looks like a medical condition of an anemic sportsperson bolting along the track.

   The surgeries and implants carried out are done without prior consultation or consent. Metal works gave way to light weight composite.  In this process I lost my soul and gained in ungainly look – some of us looking like aa cargo truck on smaller wheels and some others resembling a train compartment on rubber wheels.

As you people have not being considerate about my aesthetics & ergonomics, I am not unduly worried about your economic power. On this front you lose but I gain another owner through the secondary market, the pre-owned car segment. Surprised! I too can talk about segments and quarters, the business section of newspapers have educated me in this respect.

I forgot to remind you that there are faithful owners, who still care and drive around in earlier editions. I am really proud to witness a vintage car rally, a rare opportunity to breath in the whiff of petrol laden exhaust of my ancestors.

I only hope that the “junkyard” culture will take hold in this country and then further uses will be found for my body organs that are still capable of working, as efficiently before.

I have a few questions needing clarifications:

As built I am a saleable automobile. Why the maker needs a brand ambassador, to stand by my side and get paid for that effort?  

The kilometers per liter is always indicated with an asterisk, with an explanatory conditions apply caution, why?

My limited intelligence tells me that the asterisk might be to refer to the star brand ambassador. It is still grappling with the ‘conditions apply” – whether it means my health, the state of the road or the state of the person behind the wheel.

The last question if only the sound system gives you the pleasure to drive, why not attach wheels to that system and enjoy the ride?

No. It is not necessary to honk the horn to express your discomfort and displeasure. Please keep in mind that I am at your service till you take fancy on another model.

    Let us have a nice ride together, as long as it is possible. 

The reflections of a banyan tree:

                                         

I am a unique tree and do not depend upon a second or third generation for support. I am proud to stand on my own feet and numerous hands – the aerial prop roots. In fact, it is a rare sight to come face to face with me – not many of us are around and an eyeful even if I am the only tree within a radius of few kilometers. My philosophy is simple - “I am the then, now and the future”.

I do not know when my feet,  first, touched the earth, most probably a crack in the wall of an abandoned fortress, or a residential building or a crevice in the trunk of a tree. I am cursed by the host tree when it becomes a ghost – my strangle hold is powerful. 

Sometimes, the sapling gets pulled out from the residential walls, but I fear no such aggression from the derelict fortress. Rather it openly welcomes me to camouflage its wounds with greenery, feeling comfortable in my solid presence – root, trunk, branches and aerial props.

I am in  no hurry to sprout, shoot, spread and wither. Like the tortoise, I live on a slow heart- beat, as far as longevity is concerned, for a few centuries! But it must have been 5 to 10 years before I could get a peek at my immediate surroundings. Subsequently, the appearance of the whiskers of aerial roots heralded my puberty.

Now, you may wonder why I bear innumerable fruits packed with a handful of seeds packed in every one of them. May be in the hope that a healthy seed dispersed, far away from my towering presence, might start its own ‘yesterday, today and tomorrow’! For the sake of that one seed, I have to feed hundreds of birds, who visit my hermitage as guests.

Don’t mistake me for the other type of hermitage where sages live, guide and contemplate on life “now” and the “herein after”. Surely, one of them must have told this story of a weary traveler, who stayed a brief while, to rest under my shade. 

He had this doubt – “why such a small fruit on a big banyan tree?” He got the answer when he woke up with a start from his slumber. The reason - a tiny fruit falling on him causing a sharp pain. Had it been a fruit the size of a coconut, what would have happened to me? So went the story and enlightenment.

The mirthful children hanging onto my aerial roots and swinging to heart’s content gives me pleasure. Any religious rites you perform, don’t you use dry banyan twigs to seek the blessings of god Agni? Don't forget this - dry or green , my tender twigs helped you to keep your teeth & gum in good health. Coming closer to home, my green or dried leaves became the bio-degradable,hygenic plates from which elders and ascetics ate their frugal meals.

Inspite of all my outreach to the humanity, I lead a lonely life amidst other flora. Come and experience the soothing silence and get rejuvenated. The countless birds darting among the leaves and branches will keep you tuned to nature.

Now, I have a request to make. As you admire my majestic appearance, from a distance, will you leave me enough space; say a few acres of land in which I could spend my entire life? 

Switch Bharat to “swach” Bharath:

With so much emphasis being made on the drive for a clean India, Tom wanted to try his hand on essaying his feelings as an article, at least to read by himself.

Human life is inextricably linked with stars – both the heavenly & earthly types, and the influence they exert on them. He chose to group them together for a valid reason – both worlds contain bright blue stars, middle aged yellow stars, about to retire red giants and so on. On second thoughts, being an armchair sports enthusiast, he included sports stars also in the list.

Another interesting parallel he drew upon from this list was, all the types have a never-say-die attitude and evolve into series of ‘avtars’ till they fade, ‘shed’ their light and mass  to finally disappear from sight.

But there is this difference – the heavenly ones are put to use by us and the earthly ones make use of us! The bread & butter of a cosmologist come from the stars in the universe. The earthly stars are very clever and their bread, butter, imported luxuries and palatial pent houses are powered by their ready – to die fan following.

Tom after thinking over this weighty matter came to certain conclusions and decided to find ways to turn the table on them. To camouflage his plot, as an innocent scheme, he found ways to rope in big names in industries – National & MNC. He had the gut feeling,  “if a luring bag of oats is hung on the neck of a horse, it will gladly dip its neck into the grains”.

Then he calmly proceeded to list the ‘drives’ needed in the Nation’s interest and drew the type of E-stars who would be perfect, to anchor them.

Rout the drought:

A vast country like ours is under the whims of weather god or an angel or a villain. He wanted to leave the matter at this point as engaging in classifying the “who is who” will not eradicate drought.

His first choice fell upon a never-gave-up hero, who after successfully delivering box office bombs, somehow struck a gold mine and is about to restart his journey  towards the dumps.

Per se, actors deliver dialogues, with punch lines and feelings. A short briefing on the situation and a talented screenplay writer will equip him for a good performance in front of farmers about to commit suicide.

Even if the opening show is a flop, the tempo can be ramped up by ample publicity in all the media. This free publicity elixir will work wonders and the next act will certainly turn out to be an unforgettable one!

Moved to tears after hearing his heart wrenching sufferings and determination to “rise like phoenix from the ashes”, the drought stricken farmers get ready to start sowing  on parched lands!

This campaign will save lives of farmers as well earn the government people’s goodwill on Tactical governance.

Cleanliness:

If the nation has to be made as clean as a manicured nail’s underside, creating a overwhelming appeal is urgently needed. Gathering mass support is not that easy and people with star-power can easily pull that off and help the government in harnessing the much needed motivation.

For this effort, two types of E-stars are required. The mature yellow and hot, young blue types. An immediate list can be drawn in no time – watch TV ads for 15 seconds and you have the names in the bag. If you are in a hurry, the blue to red giant stars can be enrolled, to start with. 

Then a subtle nudge on industries to support this drive either overtly or covertly – to make their future ad clips with hot blue stars (eves in E-stars) wielding a broom or to actively sponsor a segment of the programme on any TV channel. Either way, the industries will get their money’s worth.

Though, no bar exists on a red super giant star sporting a broom with a manly voice (unlike those emotionless DD type announcers), it would be better to choose from the hot blue eE-stars, who stand by products ranging from dishwasher to diamonds. The brooms might look attractive in their hands.

The eve-stars wielding the broom are like the heavenly black holes – generate enormous heat (appeal) and leave a lasting impression (mass following).  

These ads & stars will do wonders for the drive. This preferential treatment might hurt the m –E stars, the yellow and red giants; after all they too are in the limelight – courtesy of shining e-E stars.

These macho stars’ impact might sound like a second string fiddle, yet compared with the noise of the politico band, it will be pleasant on the ears.

We all can join the celebration of ‘responsible social governance’. The government of the day benefits, without spending a rupee and the message reaches every nook and corner of the country.

Here a doubt arose in Tom’s mind – “what if Industries don’t come forward or the stars keep away from shoots”? An alternative emerged like a flash preceding the thunder – the rag pickers. An ad , shot in natural settings and with natural actors!

Visual impact is guaranteed but the ad will be like a Charlie Chaplin type silent version. Now the government can boast that it has brought up the message from grass roots to high rise towers. Who knows, this ad campaign might even end up with an award at Cannes.

Cleaner culture:

Not in the sense of pure air, water and un-adulterated food. The drive is aimed at weeding out criminal activities like smuggling & mugging.

The Captains, Colonels and Generals – not the army type but the filmy type male -E stars ,  can single handedly lend an admirable help in snuffing out  gold, diamond, sandalwood & red sander smugglers and
lodge them in jails. Of course after donning a black gown to get them sentenced as per law, but speedily.

Their qualification – defying gravity, ducking flying bullets and walking through, in shirt sleeves, an inferno – unscathed.
 Is it not ample enough? 

Their only handicap – all these have to be stage managed. Anyways, the law enforcing agencies being under tremendous pressure and short in man power, any idea is worth a try.

If it succeeds, then who will claim the credit? Whoever it is, the government can proudly take the credit – for ‘evolving culture governance’!

Your question is “what happened to the s-E stars”?

From the past to the present, the eve-E stars got attracted and attached to a few of these successful sportsmen, for the s-E star's value. Apart from these tabloid dreams, their competitive spirit is an asset. This spirit can be imparted, en mass, to the population and make the ‘wake up India’ campaign, an unprecedented success.

The government can loudly claim it as ‘society engineering'.

Tom is eagerly waiting for a feedback from the public and a pat from the government for suggesting novel campaigning methods! Anticipatimg a "...Sri", "..Bhushan" or "...vibhushan", has drawn up many more such programmes for implementation!

The House, the Queen & the life of Honey Bees

         

Part - 3: The house, the Queen and life Bees:

The taste of honey might lure Little Typhoon to empathise with the life style and survival of this species. The next bee sting may not hurt her that much as was in the earlier occasion. In the course of this narration, some ideas got repeated or presented in reworded form; it was done only to lay emphasis.

To present an interesting picture on the life in a comb, I relied on the help of Mr. Charles Darwin to understand his theory of evolution, as far as the bee is concerned.

The honey bees are at ease in their natural habitat– of trees and caves. They have adopted well to live on high raise buildings, temple towers or in any of the apartments of a gated community or in any secured apiary. This continent of Philosophy must be proud, to have been hosting these honey makers, for the last 35 to 40 million years.

The bee colony comes in to being, with the help of a large contingent of worker bees and the queen bee. Moving en masse to the nest site, selected by worker bees, they start the construction activities. Each bee, eager to kick-start the ‘operation honey comb – brood & butter’ bends its back and strains its   wings to meet the schedule.

Their motto: If we can’t keep to time now, then   where is it to brood? A highly philosophical attitude indeed!

Once the honey comb is completed, the Queen bee starts her brooding season. The slogan at the door of her chamber, might it be catchy like this - “Feast, choose, mate and brood”

The queen bee has nothing to do, besides enjoying her royal comforts, except to start the rituals - a fresh life cycle for a horde of drones, worker bees and a queen bee to perpetuate the lineage in the comb or hive.  She has authority to decide her own schedule for withdrawing sperms from the Bank of Spermatheca -   to fertilize the eggs placed in the cells and to populate the comb/hive with the kind of bees, needed at that season. Just like ordering from a menu card!

The Queen bee flies out in search of suitors having the right DNA typing , being careful to avoid offspring with mixed ‘ her’ & ‘his’ traits. She wants the brood only with ‘her traits’.

Her selection process, to choose a mate is very elaborate and should be faultless, to such an extent as, to avoid dating & courtship with a boyfriend from her own comb.

The reigning Queen has a diagnostic tool, an airborne-chromatographic column, sensitive even to less than a pbm (parts per billion molecules) to deal with such complications. But she is never in a hurry and diligently undertakes several flights to accomplish this task.  She knows perfectly well that from among the laid eggs, the worker bees will raise a Queen Bee.

The Queen bee, in all probability, may parley with one or more drones and on more than one dating flight. The queen and these drones might have at least one identical sex alleles to produce mother-type drone eggs (Motype).

The hand of fate deals the male bees with a cruel blow – they are condemned to death after mating with the queen bee. Queen and worker bees are born from fertilized eggs, with a valid parental stamping.

Only Mr. Charles Darwin might be able to throw some light on this genetic exclusivity & its impact on his theory.

A bee colony has - one queen, a few thousand fertile drones and a large contingent of sterile female workers.  Yet among drones & female workers of the same species (or) between drones & female workers of different species, a subtle difference exists in the chromosome counts: The female of any species has twice the number of chromosome count, compared with their male counter parts - The les miserables.

Bees, in a comb, are politically naive; they select and nurture a Queen and instead of ruling over ‘her’, they queue up in front of ‘her’ as spineless citizens. As well they could have done with out ‘her’.

May be, we the human beings  have ‘apiared’ that model too exactly, electing and regretting our impulsive choices? Both of us have to fight to keep what is ours - Honey Bees its savings and human beings their ethos.

It would be a utopian world, if the honey Combs could send down a part of honey, held in stock once a month and unasked. Then bees can live, in peace, like an honest taxpayer!

In the absence of such a mechanism, the combs are plundered leaving the waxy structure to stand mute testimony to their disillusionment against any ‘kind’ which is not ‘kind’ to them – humans and wild animals.

The bees in the comb are as selfish as the ants, much against the popular belief - that both are social workers. Both live in a colony and for a colony; are ruled by their respective Queens, whom these poor insects themselves, select, foster and crown - only to die, at the end, without even a posthumous honour.

Yes. They are social workers with in their respective colonies.

When the weather becomes too cold for comfort, all the worker bees and drones assume the role of comfort providers, to keep the Queen warm and comfortable.

They start the game of shivering in unison to generate warmth. First, for the comfort of the queen and then for their own sake - like programmed toys or persons afflicted with ‘dengue’ fever, doing the St. Vitus dance.

They strive to maintain the ambience near 25°C, when the queen is observing a winter-pause in raising a fresh brood. The brooding (laying) period of the queen bee is important and demanding - important as another set of workers are needed and demanding because the worker bees  have to carry on with this comb/hive warming  exercises, at a feverish rate to maintain the central heating around  35°C.

It is a pity that they have not learned the art of keeping themselves warm by simply lighting a safety lamp, using a fuel mixture of honey and wax!

The worker bees manage to stay comfortable, with out affecting the routine. They take turns to change duties and share the cold and the warmth - avoiding hypothermia for those exposed to the cold air at the periphery of the comb.

For the worker bees, the winter season is celebration time with sumptuous feast of honey - with out rationing. The combs look lean and compact.
                           

Only the Himalayan honey bees have managed to live in nests, at high altitudes and in frozen landscapes. The largest of the living honey bee nesting in the highest mountain range, with out a winter huddle!

Hone Bee - The architect

Part – 2: The building of a honey comb

             

While reading this account, I hope Little Typhoon would understand the versatile and responsible life of honey bees. Appreciation for this species might rub into her mind, whenever she tastes a spoonful of honey!

In the honey comb, the bees follow a strict hierarchy – Queen, workers and drones. Only the worker bees are endowed with the skill to build the honey comb. They send out teams to scout and select suitable sites. Then, the building activities commence, at the most convenient location.  

To make this narration a little more interesting, I had to avail the help of Mr. Kekule, Sigmund Freud, Sir Isaac Newton, Tom Sawyer and the Spider.

Mr. Kekule was spending sleepless nights, over the vexed question of what would be the most suitable chemical structure for Benzene? Such a chemical structure should satisfy the atomic arrangement of the compound and as well explain all the known reactions it undergoes.

All these while and even millions of years before Mr. Kekule’s birth, honey bees were happily using hexagonal shaped openings in building their combs – unaware of Kekule’s dilemma!

Who gets the credit Miss. Nature or Mr. Kekule?

If at all, he had focused a little more attention on the honey combs in his neighbourhood, perhaps, he could have settled the shape of the of Benzene molecule - in a jiffy and with out waiting for the demons to dance in his dreams. 

Probably, by instinct he might have replicated the moves of bees, hopping from one opening to another. He, he gave the benzene molecule a six-member ring structure or a hexagonal shape with few bachelor electrons doing   ring -a- ring –a- roses. Thus the foundation stone for the edifice of an important branch - Organic chemistry was laid.

The honey bee, being an open air architect has many possible building sites - a branch of a well grown tree, an arching or over hanging rock face, the windowsills of high rise buildings or the underside of a water tank.

May be as an additional advantage, it might choose a site in close proximity of a wooded area, floricultural lands or orchards and fruit gardens - easy to gather nectar; though the bees fly several lakh of kilometers to gather nectar required to produce a kilo of honey. In this aspect the bees might be exhibiting the tendency of human beings, to  yearn for connectivity.

The surface that is chosen, as the foundation of the comb, is plastered with a thick coat of wax. Here is the main difference between the human dwelling and the nests of birds and insects like the honey bee. We anchor our empires at the deepest possible depths and then the super structure rises above the ground level.

Are we trying to communicate to the other living beings, sharing the space with us, that we are not open or that we have deeply buried pasts? This enigma could probably be answered only by a Sigmund Freud.

The birds and honey bees choose a site which happens to be the highest, convenient location, to start their construction. Are they trying to tell us that from the height to the depth, they have only open secrets? Only a bird and insect psychologist can throw light on this conundrum!

Honey bees rival the Spider in construction technique and material.

The honey uses wax wafers and the spider uses a polymerisable liquid secretion. Both share a strong mathematical aptitude for the branch dealing with figures – geometry. The spider is obsessed with spirals, involutes and radii whereas the honey bee is fascinated by the hexagon.

In a honey comb, the most responsible and versatile is the worker bees and they run a factory to produce the quantity of wax needed for a comb. The honey, they consume has to be commensurate with the task on hand - supplying energy for work and as raw material to the eight wax producing glands. The bees process honey in to wax at a specific temperature of 34.5 ± 1.5°C. 

Probably, the worker bees engaged in the wax manufacturing enjoy a little leniency and can get away for demanding an enhanced dietary funding under Food – For –Wax (FFW), just like what Tom Sawyer did for white washing a wall. Till now, this demand of the workers has not been vetoed in the history of honey bees.

The wax layers and comb builders are pretty clever. They have some how hit up on the idea - of identical and miniaturized parts, that will greatly enhance the pace in building of the comb. The produced wax scales measuring in micrometer thicknesses and millimeter widths; glass like and light weight construction material.

From where, these versatile workers have learnt the art of producing transparent, glassy looking waxy scales? Is it a tribute to their wax producing glands and associated metering mechanisms or millions of years of genetic knowledge?

The bees need the comb   urgently to start a new colony and with a swarm of dedicated workers on roster, this time saving technique might not greatly alter the finishing date.

The bees, having come in to being much earlier than humans, have learned to use a single window system - hexagonal cells, of the same size, for every one. Is this not a radically a different approach, if we could recollect the story of Sir Isaac Newton, his pet cat, it’s kitten, a big and a small opening on the door!

If by law the bees have to apply for a comb building permit, no **UDA will touch it with a 10ft barge pole. Though it is full of hexagonal cell holes, the Free Space Index is “0”. In all probability the bees will be shown the Floor plan of a spider to drive home the point that all empty looking cells are not voids!

Unlike the spider, the honey bee need not pray for favourable wind conditions to start with the comb construction. It just needs a plain surface at any vantage location. Then like storm troopers, the swarm, of worker bees, prepares the construction site with a foundation course of a waxy layer.

The honey bees are very flexible in their approach and consider it an accomplished task, even if they manage to put in place only a part of the first hexagonal cell.  Then, as all of us are fond of saying – completing the rest of the comb is history.

Working in unison, the bees fix the possible number of sides of the first row hexagons, at the foundation level. .  Making use of these available sides of the first row of hexagons, the subsequent rows of hexagons are added along the length and breadth of the plot.

The bees at this stage probably know that with team effort they can create such a honey comb which will pass the scrutiny of the human eyes as perfect.

The task of building the honey comb, k is very unique and complex.  The sides of the hexagons must be equal in length and any two sides must have an included angle of 120°. Further more, this geometry must be constructed using wafer thin and short wax bricks, with out using heat to melt and join the adjacent sides. As being laid, the wax bricks will have to be adjusted for length, angle and instantly set in position.

They have this technique of deception, under their wings, to let loose – crowding and buzzing around the comb, incessantly and without giving a window of an opportunity for a closer look. Obviously, by this time some thing must have started buzzing in our minds. Shall we acknowledge the complexity and technicality, the bees employ – whenever the building of a honey comb comes to our mind?

Can we resolve to deem the honey combs as an architecturally designed construction?

The near white, opaque wax used in honeycomb building, slowly turns yellowish or brownish due to the incorporation of oily substances from pollen. They don’t bother about exterior appearances – simply there is no free time!

The Spider and the honey bees deserve our kudos! Both accomplish their tasks with utmost precision and with out any external referrals.

Mr. Kekule, being a scientist would have been delighted to ask the honey bees a couple questions. Why they prefer only the wax secreted by them and not any another chemical substance, to build, bind and water proof the honey comb?

Mr. Kekule being aware of the “lac” structure built by Duryodhana to burn down the Pandavas might have been apprehensive on the safety aspects of their honey combs.