The word speaks! 223

Since the first cry of human beings occurred a very long time ago, there are certain logical boxes that need inspection. Who let out the first cry - newborn, toddler, child, adult and which gender?  Who tutored it- nature, animals or birds? Did the cry was pre-recorded in the building blocks of the human being? In the absence of a definite clue, the un-ticked logic boxes point to unknown origins and baffle today’s perspective.

Countless millennia ago, the first human cry split the air on this planet earth. It became an audio-word. Like "doctors sans frontiers" it was a word without alphabets. With focus only on survival – hunting and gathering food or defending against enemies, the early inhabitants stopped with what today we call as phonics!  Guided by evolutionary pressure, they jumped the alphabet queue to invent verbal-verbs, combining sound and hand signals. In this fashion, human beings and their rudimentary vocabulary of audio-words evolved. Many millennia later, they tried their hands in pictorial representations.  With no pressure to explicitly bring out their socio-cultural leanings, the seeds to grow a nascent crop of alphabets took some time to plant.

The labour of countless minds, hands and assorted writing mediums- from granite to papyrus, resulted in crude forms of alphabets.  Probably, thinking that a group might stand a good chance of survival, with bargaining power, they devised a clever scheme - vowels and consonants. This grouping gave them a choice to choose an article as a friend to (usher) lead them.

Still afraid of the unknown, the alphabets decided to combine in as many random ways as possible to live in safety. This cocktail of alphabets, in any language, gave birth to words. Then, its life got a little complicated as dictated by etymology, spelling and phonics. Sensing the danger of having limited utility as a verb or noun or number, the stand-alone words decided to admit pronouns, adjectives, adverbs into their fold. Imaginatively, they added many hyphenated words and even bent their backs to get contracted, abbreviated as acronyms and initials or ‘clipping’ to increase their utility value.  Acquiescing to be governed by syntax, grammar; they opted for a group defense strategy!

At this point, there was no other choice except walking through the gates marked – 1st, 2nd and 3rd person, and degrees of comparison and gender indicators, idioms and phrases, punctuation marks and so on to become a sentence- simple, complex and compound! What could they do? These rules governing the formation of sentences infringed upon their freedom, but did they not find safety now!

The newly minted sentences marveled at the transformation and happy to have punctuation marks for company, which are powerful enough to stop them in their stride. After stocking and packing these essentials, the journey of sentences began with -beginners and masters, toddlers and teachers, poets and professionals. The words are proud to be associated with the works of professionals – everyday they come out with acronyms!Looking back, from the first cry to this day, the growth of their vocabulary has taken phenomenal. They are eagerly waiting with hope for someone to coin a new word to express their light-year wide smile! The word had no way to guess that foreign words might have infiltrated or some of its own might have done the same!

Though shackled with many constraints, they have found a way to put the gag order on the user. There are etiquettes governing their usage. It is the ingenious tale of twisting the tail and taming the tiger! The written or spoken words are ticking bombs primed to go. The word power gets unleashed, limited only by the imaginative way they are used. The once powerless words now could wield power; emotionless words describing bravery and cowardice, joy and sadness, hope and despair, compassion and cruelty and go histrionic to leave a reader in tears. If used without weighing the consequences - differences become conflicts; a glib talk to deceive in deceit; a war cry leading to destruction and despair. A Container gives shape to liquids; thoughts and language are shaped by the user.

Unwittingly, the early humans might have anticipated this potential hazard and happily conducted their survival business with only the phonics! It seems that the first cry has fallen into deaf ears!

Everyone is the hero in his/her story. The word is a hero in everyone's story.  The first words came from wilderness and today we will be in wilderness without words!

The shelter 222

What would you have done, if one telephone call can cause a lot of confusion; and on top of it , if the caller declined to identify himself and as a teaser promised to call you up in person, by noon that very day? Imaginch did exactly what you would have done. He dropped his jaws, newspaper and in the process spilled some hot coffee on the newspaper. Usually, he ended such calls from unknown numbers without second guessing. But this time he did not do so, as the voice on the other end sounded friendlier and familiar. Everything happened before he could decide to end the call as per his usual practice. 

He looked at the clock and it was not even seven in the morning. Letting his mind do its homework, of identifying the face from the voice of the caller. Albums gathering dust got a chance to breath some fresh air. He went about his routines regretting that a photographic memory was never his strong point. During the identification parade his mind tripped on its overload relay and dark for a considerable time. This worried Imaginch furthermore, as noon was fast approaching. 

Oblivious to the master's frustration, the wall-clock dutifully chimed in sync with the buzzer fixed on the opposite wall. Imaginch's mind stopped the photo identification process as though it was eagerly waiting for the buzzer to ring to end its misery! For all his frustrations and wasted efforts, he came face to face with the person who stood at the doorstep - a total stranger. Seeing the questioning look, the visitor said, “Can I come in and explain?” 

Feeling a little relief, Imaginch nodded his head and said,” Sorry, I had trouble in identifying you, when you called in the morning. Come on in and have a seat”. Before explaining the purpose of your visit, can you tell me how you got my number?  Why did he not call me directly instead of making you do it? How and where did you meet him? 

Who else could have? I got it from your childhood friend! To avoid embarrassment, he thought this would be a better way! I have been visiting old age homes to engage with the inmates. And in one such place I met him. 

“OK, did my friend tell you why the need for seeing me? Though bothered to know the whereabouts of his friend, Imaginch could not refrain from asking the visitor, “In what capacity did you meet him? Are you a trained counsellor?” 

The visitor held up his hands with a smile indicating a brief summary is on the way. “No, sir. I do it on my own as sort of a social responsibility. I am a professional who travels a lot. During these trips I get to meet many people. Some share a bit of their broken life. Over months I had collected a lot of bits and pieces of information. I started to assemble them to make sense out of it all. From the collected information, the inmates fell into (1) some found it inconvenient to adjust (2) some were looked upon as burdens and (3) some had none to take care. Hope this answers your first question on my capacity!

Without sounding like a lecturer, he explained that in everyday life, all of us have to make a little compromise. Sometimes, looking at things with a different perspective might solve many adjustment problems. When near and dear feel that you have become a burden, then think of ways to lessen their worries. Set priorities and preferences are two ends of a twine that always falls short to meet. On a narrow bridge, giving the other person a choice to traverse first will invariably get you the green signal to cross over first. If you consider the pressure factor of today’s working atmosphere, you will readily agree to revisit and compromise. There is nothing called permanent, everything is dynamic, including mutual likes and dislikes. This is how I ended up doing these rounds. Hope you are satisfied on the counseling part?

This absorbing narrative took Imaginch by total surprise. He never thought about the issues of old and young, in a family to this day. No need to - because he himself has declared time and again about his selfishness. With genuine admiration, he decided to at least inquire with the visitor – “did anything positive happen because of your efforts?”  Imaginch felt tht this question sounded more like first aid medication to appease his bruised conscience. 

The visitor again smiled and said,” Initially all were skeptical. As my visits became periodical, the inmates hesitantly asked for assistance. We carefully planned the approach with family members of senior citizens. This took some doing, to overcome resistance and guilt. In good time, some of the inmates went back into their family fold. Those who had none got assurance that they will have regular visitors from their former inmates". With admiration overflowing in his eyes, Imaginch looked at the visitor in awe! As usual he grappled with the twin horns of dilemma – to ask or not! 

Sensing this, the visitor came to the point- why had he come to him? Your friend wants to meet with you in person, and would consider it as a favour, if a visit is planned. Again, Imaginch had to jostle with the horns of dilemma. But on this occasion, he came to a decisive conclusion. Imaginch looked at the clock and it stood still at 30 minutes past noon. Maybe it too had been deeply affected by the narration or run out of power. Imaginch changed the battery cells and his dress to go and visit with his friend. 

The good-natured visitor volunteered to drop him off at the old age home. The visitor and the visited went silent with their own thoughts: How will the meeting go? Will it bring happiness or bring up sad feelings? If help is needed, how could it be extended? Or will it be something totally unexpected? Why did not I keep in touch with him, all these days? What happened to his family? what circumstance forced him to move into a home? How did he manage to get hold of my contact number, since I had not given it to him? Only the hum of the tyres, on the road to the old age home, kept company with their thoughts! 

Utopia 221

The apartment has a wide strip of free space all around. This compound wall-bound lane has no other entrance /exit gate for the other high-rise buildings.  We with “no–wheelers”, have the only exit/ entrance gate in the short by- lane. With children living abroad, the property owner’s family practically live there to be with them. This held two benefits for us - as a preferred tenant and to be chosen as their family friends. To keep us in peace of mind, his children have decided not to go for redevelopment. By this act, their entire family became our permanent guardian angels.

The annual migration literally starts from the four corners of the country. Within a few hours' gap, sons, daughters, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, and of course a clutch of grandchildren descend with bags and gift packs. The joy of homecoming has successfully erased the weariness out of their travel. This annual homecoming never fails to bring the tide of happiness and wash over our tired aged bones. Ignoring the aching bones, we had started our preparations for this summer vacation, well in advance. This task was getting complicated, every year, to the next level as the kids changed with age and so did their preferences. Within minutes the cackles of joy let loose by the children had such an impact on the atmosphere, prompting the house to try and shudder from its foundation.

 The only unchanging preference they have, on arrival, is to play a game of musical chairs to opt for the favourite grandparent, for that vacation. They deliberately change sides to keep us on tenterhooks to know who is with whom, till the last minute. The sweet kids do let us know, at the end, that it was for fun and they love both of us in equal measures. Probably they did this to keep us eagerly expecting their next visit. 

Ever think of upsetting an apple cart? The children do it without batting an eyelid. We spent hours drawing up lists for gifts, foods and entertainment. A serious work out on mathematical and economical permutation and combinations had gone into this exercise. Finally, we nailed it and prepared two sets for each category - one from grandma's view and the other from grandpa's perspective. Even at this stage we were in the dark about which horse would run on which track!

When all hands are on deck, the kitchen reverberates to the sound of mixers, grinders and exasperated cookers blowing their tops. Strange aroma wafts from agitated solids, gooey pastes and liquids trying to leap out of pans. What else could be expected when four different cooking styles clash in the small space of the kitchen? Will it be a gourmet’s delight or nightmare?

Everyone needed a comfortable space to unwind, and we managed to create just that by consensus. Shopping fell exclusively on women folk as they know and enjoy unhurried browsing, bargaining and walking away from the shop, only to repeat this exercise in another place. Equitable value for the time and money spent.

 The men folk engaged in delving into past occurrences, searching for viable new options and talking shop, as workspace is not the place to air opinions or frustrations. I merely listened and made guarded comments as my experience stood off by a generation.

In the meanwhile, children managed to vanish into neighbours' houses and appeared beaming with smiles after hectic activities. Compound walls are no barrier for them. The considerate kids - they planned it in such a way to let the adults the freedom to unwind.

Taking their turn to unwind and unnerve us, the children plan outdoor visits to parks, beaches, multiplexes, malls and other places of their interest with unabated enthusiasm. All of us are swept and carried away by this swift current. They unfold hidden plans to add twists to these escapades. Anyone of us forgetting to bring cash is given a special concession – bear the total expenditure of the day and settle it on reaching home. As is their wont, the kids get away with whatever they want; using all the trump cards they have in the pack. The grandparents are given preference, being the most amenable and valuable trump card in the pack. They surely knew how to silence dissent! 

 Expenses and exhaustion apart, we would never wish to miss these opportunities brought home into our lives. The calendar of activities is mostly the same every year. But with each passing year here and there modifications are made by children to suit their likes and dislikes.

They have an exclusive schedule for taking on grandparents. From past experiences, we know this will be testing time – not for our patience but the ability to field their questions. This phase is probably their version of work from home! 

The hapless grandma gets all the children crowding around and running interference. What is traditional cooking and what is medicinal cooking? How do you know the proportion is right when the ingredients might differ in quality from time to time? How do you adjust the prepared dishes to last for more plates than planned? How do you remember the addition sequence as no subtraction is possible? Veteran of many cooking battles, she calmly tells them “Scoot or go without food”. The children beat a hasty retreat - having had their fill of fun and worrying about her threat. Not to let her off the hook easily, they dumped a bag of disassembled parts of toys and sheepishly requested her help in assembling them. They knew that she knew that these are parts of the very same toys she had been giving them. Poor lady had no other choice but to work with them!

The children took the story-times to a different level. Usually, I spin stories and they listen till sleep overflows out of their drooping eyelids. This time around they wanted to take the role, with a co-operative production. Mixing innocence with devilish cheekiness, they took epic characters, tutored them in the latest cutting-edge technologies; gave them 'out of this world spacecrafts' to roam the far reaches of this universe. My head started to spin and orbit like electrons (I picked it up from them as it sounded appropriate). To add more confusion, they used code words from which I could understand nothing. They left when I simply shut my eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

When the holidays came to a close, the families left, leaving an emotional vacuum. A few days will take care of this desolate feeling and life for all of us will revert to normal routine. The children have outgrown the tearful send offs – there is always the next trip.

After reading, Imaginch had serious doubts about the logic in the narrative. He tried to dig out the missing logic. The author has freedom to imagine but is it permissible at this scale? 

The property, its location and layout appear right out of fairytales and does it really exist? Where in the world can one find such a property owner?

Where can one find such playful yet responsible, teasing and loving grandchildren? What happened to the gift packs? Did they exchange or forgot to?

He felt let down, due to lack of mathematical /statistical skills to work out the number of grandparents the kids share and how they manage to split their vacation?

All of a sudden, it hit him like a ton of bricks. It is his own narrative that he is trying to find fault with. He sat up on the seat of the dilemma for a while to wonder - whether to rework or let it be as it is. At the end, placing more confidence on the readers to edit and read, he kept the narrative without any change. 

The Professor 220

The man was furiously pacing, to and fro, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. The click-clack of his footwear breaking the silence that clung in the air. With the hands tightly clasped behind the back, his grim face telegraphed the weight of the matter zipping around in his mind, seeking clarity.

The visitor watched this metronomical event and soon his neck and eyes started ringing alarm bells of pain. The visitor chided himself for sitting in an awkward position and trying to closely follow the movements, in rapt attention. Unable to bear the silence any longer, he interrupted and asked, "What is the matter with you and why are you so agitated?"

Stopping at mid stride, the professor looked at the visitor for a few seconds and then came over to sit beside him. A temporary and welcome relief washed over the neck and eyes of the visitor. Both spent a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, waiting for the other person to speak first.

With a sigh, the professor explained the reason - three chance interactions with children, attending academic streams, has deeply affected him.

The visitor nodded his head half-heartedly, not knowing what his response should be on this topic and wondering why is this about children? Sensing the imminent loss of a pair of ears to drown with his woes, Professor immediately started elaborating on his screenplay.

Generally, it is our belief that childhood appears to be the happiest phase in human life. But it might be wrong. The visitor mouthed an enthusiastic "Why so?"

"Ask the school going children and they will tell you a different story" replied the Professor. The visitor refrained from asking "which children?" The visitor's face started exhibiting crease lines of confusion.

Professor, attempting a firefight explained, "After all, they endure the peer pressure from parents, grandparents, relatives and friends & relatives of all the above-mentioned stakeholders. What is left for the child to call its own - imagination and unfulfilled dreams!"

Interest welled up and some of the crease lines took leave from the visitor's face. Still, he could not shake the foreboding that some more serious confusion was about to engulf him. With trepidation he asked, " who parted with these pearls of wisdom and why?" 

Instead of responding to the questions, the professor's lips parted to deliver a second narrative - Parents have limited time to observe the child. For them a child is a product to be packaged and future delivered. No doubt they spend the best part of the day, every day, to earn for ensuring the package is future groomed. The child fully understands this and appreciates it. But prefers to get there with some modifications to the parent's plans. In effect, the child is happy to have the guide without moral preaching, 24×7 on all channels.

The confusion quotient in the visitor's mind was raising, as a child's viewpoint was being repeatedly mentioned. His reasoning was quite simple - the points made were definitely not sitting well with a child's utterings! The visitor felt like a person caught in quicksand - chose to stay calm in the chair. Hoping for an abrupt end to the narrative, he was afraid to seek an explanation at this point. Left with no other alternative, the visitor laced his fingers tightly and kept them behind his neck to stem his welling up anger. This was to safeguard himself from being accused of manslaughter. The professor did not deserve this.

The professor had other ideas - he wanted to cap it all with one more instance. A child bemoans the timings - when elders choose to ask questions, give out suggestions and handout admonishments. Why a child should not engage with two or more interesting activities, simultaneously. Why should this be called a waste of time? The elders demand to be left undisturbed while carrying out simultaneous tasks. The child never terms it a waste of time. Where is the logic in this? The child too wishes to be shown the same consideration. 

What is wrong if minimum effort could lead to maximum returns, what is wrong in exploring this advantage? Why should parents always harp on the lack of wholehearted effort? Why do they conveniently forget the fact that they might have heard the same complaint from their parents? Sometimes, a child might boldly say these thoughts and many times just murmur and walk away.

The visitor wondered whether the professor has had such a lasting impact - personal childhood experience as well as from his purported interactions with yet to be identified children! Is it because of this the professor was speaking in a child's voice! Multiple alarm bells started ringing in his ears.

Finally, the emotional outburst of yet another narrative came to an end, without even a customary popcorn intermission. The visitor could no longer remain a mute listener. He demanded of the professor to lift the veil and reveal the "when, where and who?"  Deep space silence hung in the air. The visitor braced himself for a renewed pacing -the-floor performance. 

To his surprise, the professor stood up sporting a smirk occupying a large space on his face. This set the visitor's anger on boil. Sensing an outpouring, the professor hastily uttered - in here, in my mind and just now! To add some flavour to the suspense, he declined to reveal " the who?" mentioned in the narratives.

The number of interrogatory marks thrown around the room must be enough to fill a pushcart! The visitor cursed himself for having chosen this day to call on the professor. Belatedly, the visitor remembered that he had endured this sort of "seance" awhile back, in the past! Yet like a lamb, he had walked into the slaughterhouse.

To set things right, he decided to seek a remedy for his forgetfulness, as soon as possible! 

Unwinding the... 219

At times, surprise comes calling without an announcement. I know you are ready to throw the semantics at me. But be patient and let this be explained. The surprise is a friend from childhood and who till now remained incognito. Rest assured, I mean to definitely ask him, "What he had been up to all these years? The usual catching up with bygone years, and discussing past and current happenings in our families, went on and on for some time. Hunger and thirst took the backseat to give us the space and time to chat. 

When the shadows started their journey toward the east, we realised ,that we no longer had control over the hunger pangs. At this point, my friend turned around and asked, " where are the family members?" and said with a little embarrassment, "I feel bad in not noticing their absence, as soon as I entered the house". He was relieved to know that all are attending a function in the city and will be back only by nightfall.

We sat down for the prepared lunch, taking care to eat as little as possible, so that the other person will have his fill. In this process both of us went partially hungry. A small inconvenience, we willingly put up with for the joy of being together.

Then we did a tour of the house, taking longer than necessary, though it was of medium size. Finally, we ended up in my study room. Bookcase arranged with tomes, on diverse subjects, greeted the friend. He would have been surprised if a bookworm like me had not stocked enough reading material. Always he had this grouse - "You have stored more words in your mind, than what you could possibly use in your lifetime". His interest perked up considerably, when he noticed the these out of place objects, neatly arranged! Short pieces of wood, of irregular shape, and resting on a stack of sand emery papers. A collection of hacksaw blades, knives and a broken grinding wheel, and a mini translucent bottle-sprayer. An iron box in the company of overflowing laundry bag completed the odd collection in the study room.

Following his line of sight, I explained about them as tools of my trade. The friend was taken aback, as he had been under the impression, that I had long since retired, and wondered what could be the "trade" that I have been practicing!

He asked, " Friend, tell me how these tools help?" It took me sometime, to formulate a reply and it ran like this: Family members do not conform to fixed parameters, on account of extraneous factors on any given day, though they might be making conscious efforts, to smoothen frayed nerves. When elders, youngsters and children live under one roof, then you have the perfect recipe for constant breakdown of harmony. In such a situation, a retired person becomes an easy target - for odd jobs, for blames, for frolic & fun, for the weather and what not?

For a few minutes, the guest remained silent, thinking about how to go about my predilection. He knew of me as a person of high sensitivity. He might be doubting, with concern, whether I have   become paranoid too? A very delicate matter indeed for him to casually deal with. I keenly watched his discomfort, with mild curiosity. It was far from my mind, to make him to suffer with anxious concern. Memories, from the past, surging back in my mind - recollected the times when he had exhibited this very same trait! 

A brief smile appeared on my face. A caring friend! I decided to lift the veil of suspense, regarding the tools of trade. My friend, if you are wondering, without expressing it verbally - have I gone off my moorings, the answer is a negative. Then "why" is the question that remains to be answered and you will get it sooner than later.

You will be shocked or surprised or perplexed because the reason is a secret but for you, I will reveal it - I learned a technique during my professional life, working in a high-stress environment. This practical technique was developed by like-minded colleagues. We called our technique "Unwinding" and the protocol is to choose a way, to work away the accumulating anger, at the end of the day, each day. After a few weeks of trial, we got the hang of working with this technique and became a bunch of clowns - laughing at anything that triggered anger. 

I explained while working away the bottled irritation or anger, there is a silent method or a sound method. No doubt my friend became confused once again. He was relieved when I told him that ironing is the silent method, useful when all are present in the house.  Working with wood is the sound method, which I use when alone in the house. Some days it is wood-work and on some other occasions, I run the in-house laundromat. Doing carpentry, I release my anger.

During washing and ironing, I silently convey to the family members that their outbursts are not taken to my heart. It is me who has allowed them to vent out their frustration. In turn, by following this protocol, I act as the sink to disperse the deposited anger. 

Standing near an open cupboard, I signaled my friend to come over. The hand-crafted wood works stood in display, as mute witnesses to the amount of frustration I have helped to disperse. By now, he must have understood why I keep these tools and finished objects in my study. Still, I asked him, "Now, do you believe in my trade - Unwinding?"

He was about to ask, but before words could come out, I explained - how it benefits me. I simply carry on with my hobby, without any hassle! At the same time, I could help us all to maintain a peaceful atmosphere in the house.

Amazed, my friend cast his eyes in admiration all over the study room, including me in its sweep. At the end of the day, my friend took leave, probably wondering how it is possible for me, to be consistently different, to this day! May be, he relied upon his old memories to silently make this observation.     

Antenna 218

 All my discomforts started sometime back, and my difficulty in falling sound asleep might have triggered it.  As a sleeping aid, counting sheep or reading-till-falling asleep did not help. Searching for an alternate solution, I started to stare at the roof and the ceiling fan.  This failed to help, other than inducing eye strain. I ended up getting a pair of prescription glasses. Your wonder is the same as mine - whether I will wear it to bed!

When all these attempts were being made, new entrants came into my night life, uninvited or may have been invited by none other than my intermittent insomnia. I am a poor host, and this didn't make the guests feel out of place. Now, it is your turn to meet with them and it will be my pleasure to do the introductions.

Initially, it was my neighbours who came in and discussed about various issues in their life, with me. Some of them even brought agenda points for discussion. The audio arrangement was of a good quality, but they forgot to give the video feed. At the end of the audio session, they left quietly gifting me a headache. Since my ordeal has not made its way into the public domain, mercifully the hordes of well-wishers have not yet joined this nighttime charade. I could not shake the feeling that I could have been sleepily awake! Seizing this opportunity, a vague remembrance that the process of sleeping is governed by certain cycles, started doing the rounds in my mind, without offering any practical help to me. Where was I, in the sleep cycle, in or out of it? My bone-tired mind failed to store this important information. To me it seemed like the weatherman's stock-prediction about rain; "isolated light, moderate, heavy to very heavy" fall is likely to occur. I suffered the same uncertainty.

 Next, the celluloid (or is it now digital?) world took a fancy to do its bit. Yester years' stars came to the show with stale tidbits to share. All the thespians took pains to differentiate their real life from reel lives. On this occasion, the cinematic presentation stole the show, though lacked direction and punch.

No matter what, the next sleepless night brought a different type of luminaries and topic. Though I have armchair interest in sports - too lazy to shake muscles, the expert opinions on why the cream of talented players fade like sour milk and answering their own question by squarely blaming the greed of governing bodies and players in equal measure. This technical on-screen dissection at least put out quality sound bytes and matched stream of photons. 

My feeble attempts to fall asleep, latest by the early morning hours went for a toss. My fatigued brain wondered, "What's going on?"

My internal reaction wheel, searching for equilibrium, went on an overdrive. Becoming tired, it even started to wobble like a spinning top losing momentum. No luck -the beauty sleep still eluded me. Even before the sleeplessness could establish its dominance over my nocturnal slumber, I had stopped being a spectator to TV panel discussions. It is such a programme, that any viewer can attribute any reason for staying away from them. I did it for keeping my inner peace.

Yet, political analysts somehow sneaked through my self-erected barrier. Thoughts for digestion ranged from "this party treats victory as a popular swing and goes into hibernation till next election", "why this daydreaming party, playing hide and seek in my hibernation and amnesia, should not be disbanded?"

"Another party takes wins and losses for scrutiny and correction"; "regional outfits aspire to come into national reckoning"; “that third political outfit thinks it could always be the cabinet maker and happy to win a handful of seats", and so on. In frustration, I bid goodbye to the cabinet makers urging them to try and venture into furniture market, in between the elections.

With all these noise makers going full throat at me and at other analysts, my hope of having a peaceful sleep takes a foreign trip, the least I could do in my desperation. I must, now, hasten to book the flight before individual politicians decide to linger and disturb my sleep, with one-to-one discussion.

I came to my wits' end when the greats from the last century started lecturing me on Relativity, Wormholes, Quantum entanglements and other heavy subjects, along with blackboards full of mathematical derivations. They did not realise that - (1) Science was far from my sleep deprived mind (2) During college days, it had happily half-slept through lectures on any subject, without prejudice and now (3) These uninvited lectures are non-starters, the need of the hour being for an expert who could usher in sleep. Even though highly frustrated, I could still admire them. True to their calling, they had patiently waited in queue to have a go at me!

Waiting for a chance, my family members decided to take part (or to take me apart) in the show. Who in their right mind would like to miss this golden opportunity? But they were very considerate - took turns and came after me, to suggest that a visit to the doctor is imperative. Thanking silently that my family members did not invite a panel of medical experts to hold an all-night consulting session, whether I was willing or not.

As the last option, during the daytime, I started collecting contact phone numbers of leading medical practitioners. It will be redundant to point out, that I was so confused, as to which specialist doctor has to be consulted. The exhaustive list scared the day lights out of my mind – cure worse than disease?

I didn't anticipate the negative fallout- out of the prepared list. In the next few nights, doctors from diverse medical specialties deliberated the possible syndromes that could cover my malady. In simple terms, it was nightmares in medical jargon. They could not come to a firm conclusion, and I didn't get the needed relief. At this point, the fear of four longs confronted me. Long wait in the clinic, long list of clinical tests, the likelihood of long list of medicines and the long duration of treatment!

This predicament should have touched some sensitive nerves in my brain. It signalled that a brilliant solution is ready but wanted some more time to search and find it. It chided and murmured, "You blindly believe in a computer which knows how to generate random strings with "0" and "1". It doesn't want to know what it is but surely knows how to store and where it is. Am I not differently wired? How come you do not trust me when I try to open your eyes? "

This really floored me, literally, but fortunately I was sitting on the bed. After rebooting, the human computer came alive with two suggestions: (1) get some prescription medicines (2) seriously think about many half-finished personal projects. It gave out crisp instructions, namely, to consult the doctor for the first and to finish or dump the second. And try to make the best out of this worst situation, get a nighttime job. It will benefit us all!

As a passing shot, it reminded me, “While you slept, have I not been monitoring all your involuntary functions? Give me a little rest and I will give you some! The cyber expert then decided to run a full scan of the system and reboot. That was a painful bull's eye. No need to say that I was left speechless.

                                                                            ***

Green Fingers and unwanted doubts? 217

Concerned about pollutants and obnoxious chemical substances getting into human guts, Imaginch wanted to do something about it. Not unduly worried about being selfish, he decided to take action, for the sake of his family, without joining any bandwagon. 

Luckily for him, his forefathers had left a house surrounded by a bit of vacant land on all sides. Till this time, the land was lying fallow, happily accommodating the growth of weeds. The weeds, becoming prolific, started to threaten to invade into the house itself. This brought pressure on Imaginch to swing into action. Every year, in the month of May, coinciding with the annual school holidays, the inhabitants celebrated a harvest festival of a different kind. Willing children, armed with garden tools, lent their hands to battle with overgrown weeds. It worked well for everyone involved. For that year, they have slayed the demon called weed, and children earned a little pocket money. Fed up with this annual ritual, he decided on a permanent solution - to try and raise a vegetable garden.

With the weeds out of the way, he set his sight on the next steps that have to follow. The priority was to nourish the fallow land and restore its productive health. Visiting nearby farming communities he got in touch with local sources for supply of natural compost. The housewives, who knew more about raising and sustaining a family garden, chipped in with practical tips. 

He found the task, of selecting seeds and seedlings, daunting. To start with, the homemakers willingly offered to spare seeds and seedlings from their stock. In the end, he had the feeling that with so much information shared with him, he could easily write a book on the subject.

Seizing this opportunity, his children came out with aces; they brought their friends to help out in preparing the plots for raising vegetable plants. He didn't ask what lures they had dangled to gather the work force. After all it would be a friendly matter of giving and taking!

Yet, he was little apprehensive about the giving part: "will it mean an all-expense paid weekend?" With weakening resolve, he decided to cross the bridge only when the necessary preparatory works got completed. Given the choice, he neither liked to cross a river nor  want to rock the boat he is forced to travel on!

Soon, cartloads of manure landed, in heaps, on the prepared plots. An intense odour emanated and pervaded in the air, to announce its arrival, to the neighbourhood. He was not sure - if the cattle had taken a fancy to munch on pesticide and germicide infused grass and hay. So, with this doubt in mind, he didn't tell the neighbours that he has taken up growing organic veggies.

In good time, the intense labour invested in the garden began to show results. He had a tough time to distinguish veggie sprouts from weeds. Somehow a crop of weeds, defying all odds, showcased their resilience and eagerly claimed part of their original jurisdiction. The children took to gardening activities, like fish to water. The volunteering continued on holidays, to search out and tackle weeds and pests. For them it was fun - compared to boring homework, catching leaf miner pests appeared interesting. Imaginch wondered, why the neighbours did not object to their children working in his garden. His mind working slowly reached this conclusion - maybe they wanted to have quiet holidays at home!

The children carried out visual inspection of vegetable plants, with predictable periodicity. A new leaf, bud, flower and appearance of a tiny vegetable made them jump with joy. Mentally he thanked them for not doing a similar check-up of the root vegetables, for current status!  

After a few weeks, the garden became neighbours' envy. Visitors dropped in, to stand and admire his "botanical" garden. The flower show put out by the plants, and the interminable weeds, was pretty impressive. The sore point turned out to be the trade enquiries - for that special flowering-weed variety! Imaginch held his breath, fearing someone might even ask him for the visitor's logbook for signing!

The kitchen proudly accepted the home-grown vegetables. Friends and neighbours were in for pleasant surprises - invite for lunch and couriered vegetable packages. His children, who gave this package idea, let him onto the secret - all along it was their plan to thank their friends, who helped in making our garden a reality. Pay back in kind!

Our children willingly, became package handlers. Not to miss the golden opportunity to play pranks -they slipped in concocted (unheard of) recipes along with the deliveries! The housewives, who received the made-up recipes, chose to enjoy the prank as well as the vegetables.

When everything was going above and beyond our expectations, a cyclonic storm decided to choose our neighbourhood for a special treatment. It lashed the neighbourhood, with heavy rains and howling winds, leaving us stranded. An aerial survey (who said only ministers get the honour) from our roof top presented a gloomy picture. The creepers, climbers and hangers, in the garden had no strength to stand-up to the fury and simply surrendered. They lay forlorn minus leaves, flowers and yield; Water logging ensured that the root vegetables became manure for the next crop. 

He knew that the hanging garden of Babylon was a terrace resident and wondered what his waterlogged garden would be - a floating garden? Or should he call it an aqua garden as fishes, frogs and water snakes were coasting by his residence! The irony was not lost on him!

Neighbours (after doing similar aerial surveys) lost no time in conveying their profound distress, like seasoned politicians. The children were inconsolable – their secret plan for raising a flower garden, also had gone with the wind and rain. With sadness, our children looked at their mother, who had marshalled the army of children during all the phases, with watchful eyes.  Her face reflected sympathy and gave them a consoling pat on the back. 

The forced quarantine inside the house, gave Imaginch ample time to reflect. He had doubts regarding, the beginner's luck and the willingness of the family to make another attempt. Whether neighbour's children would come forward, once again?  What rattled him the most was - why he didn't think through all these beforehand?

Looking through the window, he saw the sun breaking through the clouds, receding water level in the garden and a bunch of children standing in ankle deep water. Soon, his children too joined them. Whatever be the case with the children, in his mind's eye, he could visualise another beautiful vegetable garden. At least to deprive wild weeds the satisfaction of claiming their right to encroach!