Why do we do what we do? 360

This made Imaginch to book a flight ticket to an imaginary destination, where he would be all alone to mull over this weighty question? Even if the answer eluded him, he would have the satisfaction of getting twisted in his own web of reasonings.  

Even before his flight of imagination reached the cruising altitude, severe turbulence struck. The aircraft along with the passengers in his imaginary flight wanted only to land at the first available agricultural field or a riverbed without protruding boulders. At this turbulent hit journey, Imaginch made a brilliant literary move. 

To make the topic personal to the readers, he decided to leave the narrative with this recurring question: why do we do what we do?, in different forms aligned with the context. With this masterstroke he had vested the readers, if any, with the choice of either finding the answer or ignoring the question! He had thus ensured a safe landing for that imaginary flight! 

An impulse, an instinct or an aversion?  Imaginch wanted to do a litmus paper test. The problem cropped up when he had to find the subjects willing to dip into the acid or alkali bath he could prepare, based on the subject. Now he ended up with a problem tagged with a willingness and preference criterion. Acting on his own impulse, he stepped out into the street that was neither busy, nor calm. Occasionally, a e-scooter or EV car entered from one end and disappeared by the other. 

That neither busy nor calm atmosphere changed, when a person doing his morning walk appeared. A few steps behind him a street dog hesitantly followed him. Both of them disappeared from his view and Imaginch started to wonder what would have made the dog do what it was doing? He had found his first subject for asking that question ‘why we do what we do?  

Later in the day, he visited the nearby bank branch. A sparsely crowd inside the premises gladdened his heart with the thought that his work would be over in minutes. 

Something stirred in his mind with that odd feeling of unease. He just moved out of the premises and hurried home, not knowing why he did it. Later at home the idiot but smart box had the answer - two earth shaking quakes that have occurred though in other continents. Psychic? How could he hear acoustic waves operating below the threshold of human perception? Now he had another thought, was the dog trying to forewarn the walker, that something was in the air?  If not, then why it did what it did? 

The first rays or the predawn twilight is the signal for the birds. The chatter of birds, in different pitch and notes start in right earnest. Do they have that much news about the previous night to share with each other? Or do they talk about concerns for the upcoming day? By noon time, why their chatters die down to a few sporadic calls, interspaced with heavy silence? 

Imaginch wondered. What were they exchanging at sunrise and why the radio silence at noon or there abouts? In the evenings, why it was a cacophony of sorts with all of them exerting their lung power to be heard over the others. Could not they talk it out, as and when possible, rather than waiting for the day's end? Why they do what they do?

Anywhere in a public place, standing in a queue often brings out acts that upset the others in the same line. By squirming, worming and badgering, one person will try to position himself among the few, at the head of the queue. This action apart, the explanation or excuses by him will range from slapstick comedy to abysmal tragedy, stirring the anger in others down the lengthy line. All for not wanting to wait like the others!  Why people do what they do?  

As kids, they wanted to wear full pants when the norm was for half pants. College and beyond they want to wear only half pants or cargo pants with multiple pockets, when the full pants could enhance the elegance of their persona. Moving up on the generation ladder, the senior citizens happily join the parade with the grandchildren, in matching or competing attire of half pants and cargo pants. The sandwich-agers, the old school lot, are left wondering why they do what they do? 

It is a common experience whenever assistance requested gets cold shouldered without even straining to shrug the shoulders by the other person. Is it a way to silently express disinterest?  

Why not gather some courage and promptly utter the words " some other time!" Will this not help to close the door gently rather than leaving it ajar? But why instead people do what they do?

Children were reluctant and found excuses to avoid opening textbooks in front of you or sitting by your side. Now, the grandchildren show much more reluctance and have a carton of excuses and DBMS (do by myself) routine to even open their school bags. Then and now why the old generation did/does it what it did/does? Why people do what they do? 

After a few days, a reader left a lengthy comment which ran like this.

For curiosity’s sake, don’t start analysing actions of others. Remember only the curious cats get killed. When you had questions, you should have got them settled then and there. Is there any use now, in crying over spilled milk? Even that milk, would have already been lapped up a kitten or pup.

After reading, did Imaginch get upset? On the contrary he was glad that someone had the hammer to hit the all-nails home.

Part -2 Mooshik is at it again ! 336

Ganesha, I agree that you are a divine appointee and at the same time act as an easily approachable personal god. Rich or poor is not a consideration while you assist them to tide over crises, knowing fully well that they had brought them upon themselves by their own acts. Will you clarify this doubt for me, as me being your ever-present co-squatter on way side, shelter less abodes you select as dispensing points? 

Ganesha, after getting tired of subsiding the growls from his ample bowels, spared Mooshik a withering look. Realising his action, he immediately sent a cold wave to soften the effect and prevent Mooshik from vapourising on the spot. He signalled a “proceed”. 

Taking the cue, Mooshik asked, “When in fix, people fire appeals to super, semi and lesser gods. To doubly make sure, they visit godmen, roadmen, astrologers, parrot & tarot card readers. You will get a clear picture by imagining a number of people throwing stones to drop a fruit from a tree! If a successful fix is found, then the manpasand choice by the devotee, as the winner of his appeals, could be anyone from the super god to the tarot card reader! How the devotee is able to keep all of them in check and in suspense, till the result is declared?” 

Mooshik’s rambling itself was confusing whether it a question or a doubt. This reminded Ganesha that the doubt or question was like a mirror and a twin edged sword - only need to rotate by 180⁰, whether clockwise or anticlockwise does not matter. If he does not settle this doubt or question, he knew Moshik would have succeeded in showing him the mirror or taking a jab at him with the sword. 

To ponder over this dilemma and searching for a probable cause to exit now, he declared, “Mooshik, we are due to grace with our presence in the new wayside temple being consecrated, under a peepal tree. Must be little cool there with ample shade.  In a temple, a devotee is the king. Let us move.” 

Upset and taken aback, Mooshik murmured, “You conveniently forgot to mention about the birds that are patiently waiting to decorate us with tattoos!” 

Ganesh ignored this sarcastic remark and started moving out. With no other alternative, Mooshik followed in the shadow of his Lord. It was unusually a hot day! 

“Mooshik, it appears you have not yet completely come out of your earlier avatar.”

“No, My Lord. My doubt is based on credible intelligence I have gathered, as of now and here in this avatar.”

“Mooshik. Know this. People choose options. Gods give them choices.”

“When given the choice, then why they go for options?”

“A good question. A wrong choice and they end up with options to appeal to someone to correct or condone the wrong choice they have made. Answer this, “A while ago, you spoke of credible intelligence, by any chance it is from non-believers? And my suspicion is on three persons, who have been trying to cause a rift between us.”

“No. No, my Lord, the three persons you are suspecting are not per se non-believers but they only question the application of belief.”

“If not to undermine the devotion, what else could be their end game?”

“They are striving to weed out pseudo-devotion, which always works on a basis, and to purify the murky water by filtration and clarification. They are the vocal votaries of ‘something for nothing’”.

“Mooshik, why do you think this is crowd different from the quid pro quo crowd? Now also, are they, the vocal votaries, not asking “something” from us for doing “nothing” to us?” 

My Lord, here the “something’ means devotion and “for nothing” signifies without expectations.

Mooshik has coolly introduced another dimension to the concept of devotion and Ganesha’s worry was how to make the devotees to understand and act according to this doctrine. In what way, the act of people throwing stones at the fruit is connected to Mooshik’s doubt or question? Is he confused are trying to confuse me. Ganesha held his head in both the hands and thought for a while. Mooshik waited patiently for Ganesha to speak.

The stone and the fruit giving him a hint, Ganesha asked “suppose none of them could drop the fruit, what they would do?

“They will move to another tree and try again!”

“Supposing this attempt also becomes fruitless, what options do they have?”

“Go in search of a low hanging fruit in another tree!” 

Having brought Mooshik to where he wanted, Ganesha explained, “If the first attempt fails, the quid pro quo devotees will trim their faith on parrot and tarot card readers. Next, they will find no use for and do away with the soothsayers and astrologers. This will be followed by sidelining the godmen and demigods. Now, have they not brought enough pressure on the personal gods and super gods?” 

The deluge of possible options outlined by Ganesha left Mooshik speechless. Ganesha exhorted Mooshik to say something, just anything other than nothing.

Beaten by the Master in the game of riddles, Mooshik meekly asked, “My Lord, how do you manage this pressure?”

Ganesha vigourously flapped his elephantine ears and rubbed his hands with glee and said, “Though divine certified, neither am I a super god nor counted among the ranks of semi gods.” 

This unexpected answer jolted Mooshik with an array of power packed lightning bolts. Braving this shock, he asked, “Then what are you, my Lord? And why devotees are not putting you under pressure?” 

Once again, Ganesh succeeded in bringing Moshik to where he wanted him and said, “To reply in your own words - I am a something God wanting nothing. Many have realised this and so started consecrating temples by the waysides. Even the birds decorating us with tattoos follow this ‘something for nothing’ philosophy.

Do one thing, bring the vocal votaries of this philosophy to me at once. I would like to gather my own intelligence on what other philosophical branches they have climbed! No harm in being forewarned or being prepared. Who knows what is in store?” 

“How come they leave you alone without applying pressure?”

“Being the go-to personal god and residing in wayside abodes work in our favour. They think that with all the devotees clamouring to be heard, come to the conclusion ‘maybe Ganesha is attending to serious problems and surely our turn will come’ or ‘right now he is helpless to even shift a small boulder to help us’ and so on. They become wise after some time.  Mooshik, a few moments ago, you were reluctant to come out for this consecration, and do you understand now, why we are living in peace?” 

Mooshik shut his trap, tucked his tail and decided to sit in this new abode - at a lower berth and to the right or left side of Ganesha, as the consecrators have decided to place him.

ChintaMany's bare body dream: 361

Of the many REM cycles, ChintaMany landed himself as a witness in a swearing-in ceremony. He got the impression that it was being globally televised. On the podium, a lean figure looking straight into the television cameras and started to take oath of office. The mark of the land slide victory still clung to his attire and hairs. The sandy hair appearance managed to add an extra elegance to his simplicity. 

What came next, simply shook ChintaMany like many earthquakes simultaneously striking at the same place. He had watched telecasts of many oath taking ceremonies. But this telecast made the cake and walked away with it. He wondered how the self-proclaimed guardians of constitution and protocol pundits would react to this historic, unique and out of the earth thinking oath taking speech. 

"I....., in the name of honesty, truth and humbleness solemnly confirm that I have no more than one bank account and none in offshore or deep-sea safe havens. I do not have any pending case, criminal, civil or of any other classification anywhere in the world. Even then I have never moved a court for it to recuse or refused to accept and honour its summons, even though nothing was sent. 

I have no business empire, especially the money laundering type, as I am allergic to dry cleaned clothes. With my meagre earnings how can I spend money on laundering, fashionable suits and accoutrements like diamond studded watch, imported shoes, spectacles etc.  

I don't have any traffic violation citations as I don't own even a bicycle.  I don't have any passport as I have neither business interests nor dealings with foreign nationals and their foundations, agencies or governments.  I have not signed on any piece of paper by way of M O U or I O U. 

Importantly, with no valuables worth the price tag, even ordinary thieves do not attempt raid my house and knowing this, where is the question of IT and ED officials mounting a raid? "

ChintaMany super tuned his ears not to miss out on other political gems falling out during the oath taking speech. He was not disappointed. 

"I am the only politician in my family with little interest in politics and the others have stopped talking to me when I announced my intention to contest. I give assurance that allegation of nepotism or raising of nepo kids has no chance to breath down my soiled collar. 

Most importantly and as a CBM (confidence building measure) here and now, in front of you all, I am submitting my undated resignation letter, now in front of you all. This is to assure that I will not cling to power when defeated.  

In this letter, undated, I assure that I will vacate the official residence after 24 hr of my electoral defeat and giving authorisation to change the lock of the official residence. I am prepared to get locked out, if defeated. 

Vowing to lead austerity measures, the cabinet meetings will be served only with a cup of tea or coffee and two biscuits. The cost will be borne by me and my fellow cabinet ministers, every time." 

The acceptance speech was going great guns and as ChintaMany waited for some more to come crashing into the citadel of power mongers and chair-clingers, something squishy and cold fell on his person.  

He sat up with a start and cursed the hot, humid weather and the stout lizard as the uninvited villains.  He was sleeping with minimal clothing to beat the heat and yet somehow, he had fallen into a deep sleep. 

He started to worry whether did he really fall asleep or that too was a dream? 

The oath taking ceremony lingered and dissolved from his mental screen as if the projector had been switched off.  

ChintaMany felt extremely distressed by the fact that the speech would have certainly touched upon policies, policing, law and order, judiciary and governance. He blamed the lizard for literally pouring cold water (squishy, cold body) on his once in a lifetime dream, which was heading towards providing a turning point and a roadmap on how politics could be, forever.

Part - 1 Mooshik at it again! 334

Mooshik sitting in absolute silence finally got in the nerves of Ganesha. He cleared his throat by blowing a trumpet-like sound which failed to evoke the expected response from Mooshik. He thought “It must be some serious matter gnawing at his mind “. He readied himself to address and defuse the sit-in-silence-strike and mused "Mooshik had found a novel technique to draw attention to some problem!"

 Ganesha asked, “Mooshik, what is eating you?”

Though Mooshik wanted to remain silent, the years of servitude to Ganesha made him to respond. His reply was curtly syllabic " Bakthi, affordable Bakthi and accessible Bakthi." 

Ganesha's ears perked up after hearing this short snort of a reply from Mooshik. His initial assessment turning true, asked Mooshik," Cat caught your tongue or what? Why don't you say whatever it is a little more elaborately?" After uttering these words Ganesha understood the incongruity of the cat in the phrase as Mooshik outweighed the puny cat many times over. Instead, choosing one of the big cats, he should have asked, “What got your tongue - a tiger or a lion or a jaguar or a leopard?”  Though pretty long, Ganesha thought that it would have been befitting to Mooshik’s stature. 

Ganesha frantically continued searching for ways to reach out to Mooshik as he had gone back into his shell to sit immobile and silent. 

He asked, “What is the distinction you want to make between Bakthi, affordable and accessible Bakthi? What gave the idea to think like this?

Mooshik, don’t you know, Bhakti is loving devotion, attachment, and surrender to a personal God or a divine being? It is an emotional, personal relationship with the divine rather than just ritualistic worship and a primary path to spiritual liberation.!

Warming up to Ganesha, Mooshik murmured, “Yes. I am aware of this, but...”

Patiently Ganesha said, “There is no but here.  It is “pure and unselfish" to experience divine love and joy. Singing hymns, chanting prayers and engage in serving others will help in surrendering one’s ego! You might have heard about the nine doors about life processes. But divesting oneself of ego opens the door to Bakthi. In essence, Bhakti also has nine doors or ways. 

With little more interest Mooshik asked, “How the same comparison of life process is applicable here?”

 Ganesha continued, “There are these nine ways, like listening, singing, remembering, serving, worship, prayer, servitude, friendship, and self-surrender. These doors are open to anyone to practice. These doors open the paths to go about instilling Bhakti in oneself.’ 

Mooshik, not satisfied with all these explanations asked, “Then what about my question on accessibility? The process you have just described is not easy to practice to obtain an understanding of the gods and divine beings.” 

Ganesha was tempted to let out a ear-splitting and loud trumpet sound, this time to scare Mooshik. Attaching importance to clearing his doubt, Ganesha overrode his annoyance, and he replied, “Gods and divine beings do not distinguish a devotee based on gender or status.  Bhakti is accessible to all, if only it is sincerely focused on the heart striking a path that transcends intellectual perceptions. Bhakti merely rests is built upon acceptance and not intellectual interpretations. This is accessibility. 

Of course, the process will not be easy as the devotee’s aim will be for a direct, emotional experience of the divine. Mooshik, I am surprised that in spite of knowing that there is no other easy way to get that divine experience., why are you raising this question?  Are you confused or ignoring these facts are you deliberately trying to confuse me?” 

Mooshik replied, “No, but I felt like devotees are being given a restricted access rather than an open path. But the eloquent explanation you just now gave sounded to me like what the touts do in our premises!”

This ‘tout’ comparison and Mooshik’s general demeanour annoyed Ganesha. He had half a mind to tweak and twist Mooshik’s ears till such time tears rolled and blood on his hands or maybe a piece of the tweaked ears too!  But a long association between them made Ganesha to refrain from acting in anger. Instead, he did a headstand (sirasasan) all the while focusing his eyes on Mooshik’s head in an attempt to directly tweak his brain cells.

Coming out of his headstand, he asked, “How many temples have installed me as deity and can you describe them?

Mooshik: “Exclusive, wayside and on sharing basis there are countless temples. Exclusive temples are grand and those where you share space with other main deities your importance depends on the other deities’ popularity. What this has to do with my question?”

Ganesha: “Overall, how easy it is for the devotees to approach me and how many of them would have followed the nine paths to reach me.?”

Mooshik: Except in the exclusive temples with VIP queues, more or less, it is easy for them to approach you. Though I have not kept an accurate count, maybe a sizeable number might have just walked-in for a darshan.”

Ganesha: “Mooshik, your answer goes to say about accessibility by passing through or bypassing the nine gates I had mentioned earlier.”

Sensing a setback, Mooshik played his last card to ask, “How about affordability?

Ganesha: “Those who can avail VIP or VVIP darshan. Those who barely afford to manage but wait for hours in long queues. Those who cannot afford a VVIP or VIP darshan and wait in long queues have always been getting a walk-in darshan in any one of my wayside temples. If this not affordability for all, then what else could be?”

But Ganesh knew the intention of Mooshik in raising these questions. It was not about accessibility and affordability. Something else has stared bothering him. Having had him as a companion forcing him to come out openly would not be fair. Anyways, Mooshik knows that I already know what is bothering him. He knows that I know to wait for him to open up…...

Ganesha’s head started to spin and he decided to take some deep breaths to clear his circular thinking on ‘he knows that I know’  was akin to a cat (or should it be a big cat) trying to catch its own tail!

The Battle with Bulge. 352

The Battle of Bulge was a landmark battle in World War II. Born after that war, I am only acquainted with its variants and that too in a civilian setting. I could easily visualize the famed actions, in a comical sense, during a morning or evening walk.

Walking could be for pleasure or with a purpose or as a means to spend time. I invite this type, to enjoy the spectacle of the Battle with the Bulge. A word of caution: Be wise not to make fun of the walkers - may be one day far in the future, we both might be participants!

The ideal place to witness this march past is a park or a playground in the neighbourhood. To blend well with the crowd, turn up in your walking gear. To derive the maximum benefit out of these exercises, keep your eyes sharp (mindful walking) and allow your imagination to roam, on this toll free number ‘0 00 00 1 0 00 00’. Here you will certainly get the honour of shaking bellies or rubbing shoulders - with dignitaries sporting a bulge in the middle. The former depends on the bulging belly you have and the later if don’t have one.  This war game is known as the Battle with the Bulge. Occasionally the added attraction will be the belly dance.

The foot soldiers, drafted from multi-specialty clinics of cardio-vascular and diabetes, trained hard to fight for this Battle with the Bulge.

The moment a doctor serves the ultimatum – exercise or else - a queue forms in front of sportswear shops for shoes and tracksuits. Audio shops are visited for loading melodies into a memory card. Fortunate are the ones who could lay his hands on an iPod of Apple to lend ears to it. Maybe he, just remembered the old adage “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”.

Then the hunt for a suitable location starts - to walk at will. Here the most persistent help will come from the spouse and her friends – each holding a doctoral thesis on “shedding others’ belly”. They will be very careful to choose the war field with a motley walking crowd of gentlemen with dour faces and a few older men turning out in mod dresses, sticking to a ‘belle non grata’ dictat. No such ‘friendly advice’ will be forthcoming for a spinster.

Before a walk in the park, there is a need to brush up your vocabulary to help in classifying the fellow walkers. If you chance upon someone closely resembling you- belly wise, worry not; there is supposed to be seven individuals within handshaking DNA acquaintance.

The men folk come with bellies of different types and shapes. The first type is hemi - Pot belly or Bow belly – a   concave thrust of accumulated fat and comes in two variants: a ‘tight’ air filled belly, or the liquid filled ballooning belly.

The next type is hemi-cylindrical belly. The hemi-cylindrical belly also comes in the above-mentioned shapes. Another noteworthy type is the Tile belly (or) ½ hemi-cylindrical belly. In fact, this is the formation stage of a hemi-cylindrical belly. The last in the list (Sorry, I have run out of imagination) is the ½ Safety Tube belly and it comes only in pneumatically inflated condition.

Showing a little courage, you select a place where a number of persons from the other gender will also be walking. This will add colour to the proceedings, even with the sword Damocles of dire consequences hanging over your head - if your better-half gets wind of your shenanigans.  No vocabulary builder will ever entertain the temerity to categorize the burden of fat carried by the women folk, so vividly – for the fear of his dear life. But we will gladly add a few sentences to enliven the theater such as manly looking madams - in track suits and plugged in music, bubbly girls in boy’s wear and the middle-aged ladies airing their views on their neighbours, bahus and the world at large- punching the air with hands, holding smart phones.

In this pleasant atmosphere, these foot soldiers carrying the threats of swollen hearts, blocked aortas, jumping blood pressure and climbing sugar levels, do the workouts briskly. This is a different kind of war, where the enemy from within – ‘bulge’ straining at the seams or the sugar hoarder, is being confronted. The noticeable difference is the fat sacs replacing army rations and ammunitions. This battlefield will not be strewn with claymores (landmines) but with dead twigs and crushed tetra packs.

Having an elaborate screen play on hand, now it is time for shooting the scenes:

Observe the man, with the air inflated Bow belly in action. As he   takes a stride with his right foot, the accumulated fat begins to shift to his left - in a tantalizing slow motion. At times, the bulge stands confused at midway. On the other hand, the ‘balloonic’ bulge gyrates madly – left, right, up and down, reminding the famous belly dance, performed in the night clubs of Cairo. A word of caution here – do not get distracted by the manly woman breezing past, casting a whiff of scent and music. Focus your eyes on the belly dance and not on the belle dancing by!

The walker, with the packed, hemi-cylindrical belly (hCb), is a picture of perfect rigidity – no sideway movements of the belly. He only has to keep his neck pushed back, to counter the downward pull of the filled belly. If he has to wear a neck collar for spondylitis and walk – will it be cruel or comical?

The real comic relief is provided by the gentleman with water filled hCb. His whole body appears to move sideways as if dragged by the swing of the loose belly. The skin covering the bulge has also given up its own fight long ago. Even the non-walkers amongst us might have witnessed a similar sight, while waiting at the bus stop. The front face of a crowded State transport bus appears to veer away separately to the right, from the rest of the vehicle, as the bus comes towards the bus shelter.

The walker sporting a ½ Safety Tube belly gets only a passing attention as there is no scope for any visual entertainment of a moving belly. The least attention is reserved for the walker with a Tile belly- the anatomical location of this belly is in a tranquil zone and not prone to seismic tremors.

Whatever the type or shape, the belly takes the toll on the tailors. They encounter technical problems, in accommodating the bulge, and pray that the stitches – at the seams, buttonholes and button et al hold against the war of attrition with the thrust and shift of the bulge.

The foot soldiers, in the Battle with Bulge, get to face the music in more than one sense – from the doctors, wife, friends and fellow walkers. In addition, they have to put up with the woes of technical problems of ‘accommodation’ and ‘net’ portability.

It might be interesting to know – “In the war with bulge what happens at the end?”

The ‘wallet’ of the walker becomes leaner, the spring from the grass blades die young and the medical expenses become healthy, if the war against protruding fat is lost. A winner, in this battle may not get Military medals but might get ‘mentioned’ by the better-half, among friends, to enhance her reputation as a strict administrator – of medicines and exercise!

Better hurry up and update your vital statistics and take care of your bellies! Adieu! Till we meet again – to rub with shoulders.

The Backyard Bird watcher at 3rd fork: 338

 This is what happens in the third fork on the road: 

With eyes-on experience (watching the birds from the balcony), the curiosity gained after intermittent inspection of the nest built by the red vented bulbul, and after reading bird-watching account, the grandchildren had this doubt and looked at him for an answer. Basking in the afterglow of the feel, that the spirit of the birdman of India was all praise for his earlier project, he confidently asked them to ask their doubt. 

They asked, "Grandpa if the narrative had taken the third fork on the road, which was going nowhere, how would you have reacted?  

The physical body of the backyard birdman was almost taken over by Usain Bolt, but running away was not an option. He did not want to relinquish the image of a know-all and handle-all grandpa which he had built up after uphill climbs. He had personally understood, after experiencing the climbs, that the efforts required to earn a place in a young child's mind could have easily moved the Himalayas down south. 

Like a surgeon approaching the first incision, he had to be clear and careful. He had found curiosity drives away birds and did not want to repeat that mistake with the curious minds. He pled out for time to revisit the forks and come back. The children agreed thinking that they have cornered Grandpa and wanted to know his escape plans. 

This last 3 words gave him an idea. He knew that predators and preys are common in nature.  But predators among avians, that too with an intent to hunt a harmless red vented bulbul, did not sit well with him. He could not help but to suspect the pigeon that often visited the balcony, though actually its purpose turned out to be different. To sit on a horizontally laid drain pipe with the sole aim of discharging bird droppings.  To confirm his belief or disbelief that predators existed among avians, he became a hunter after information. 

The search instead of reassuring him resulted in confirming the fact that predators were after the innocuous red vented bulbul. They tailed (followed) them, stole the eggs from the nests or feasted on nestlings and even devoured the adult birds. He wanted to keep these gory details to himself, but the curious minds may have to be fed with some crumbs. He decided to name the predators without shaming them and accordingly listed out Shikra, collared Falconet, Crows, Rufous Treepies, Tawny eagle, Indian Koel, squirrels and crows as possible predators. 

He emphasised in nature predators and preys are part of the ecosystem. He hoped by mentioning the ecosystem, they may rest assured after conveniently blaming the ecosystem. Convinced by his explanations, the children diverted their attention toward spotting and learning about these predatory birds. 

Apart from the predators, his worry was how to react and take the narrative via the third fork on the road which was not going anywhere! Though for him, not going anywhere was not an option. Another gem of an information up his sleeve was the fact that Bulbuls are known for their defensive strategies, such as engaging in mobbing behaviour against predators and in some cases, displaying fake injuries to lure predators away from their nests. He had found the ending for the narrative and of course his reaction would have to be an appropriate compassion dripping with sympathy. 

“The red vented bulbul, who was busy in shaping the nest, by sitting and turning around, happened to see the crows flying low level sorties which unintentionally passed over the pandal. The crisscrossing shadows became its warning signal. Taking it together with the visits of the pigeon started ringing alarm bells in its tiny brain. Instinct kicked in and the birds started to think of a fight or flight response. Safety of eggs and later that of the nestlings dictated a flight response as the best option. Loss of effort appeared bearable than the loss of eggs or chicks.” 

At this point, the kids had questions. They asked why the flight? Why should crows and a pigeon should scare them away?  The backyard bird watcher decided on an exposure to the way of life of birds in general and   particularly of   crows, starlings, sparrows and Indian koels and eagles. He said, “These birds eat worms, caterpillars and small insects.  Some of them catch insects during flight, which probably appeared like a dive bombing run for the bulbul. Compared to these birds, the bulbul is small and fragile. So, flight became the best option.” 

But, where did they go? You are beating around the bush without telling us what happened to your trip down the third fork? Are you trying to skirt around the issue? 

The grandfather was confident that the children might accept it without much struggle about birds feasting on worms and caterpillars. His worry was, how to let them know, without shattering their built-up image that all are well and safe in the world of red vented bulbul? He had this idea. "Children, imagine a dog running very fast with its tail tucked in between the hind legs. Within seconds you see another dog comes chasing with loud barks. 

What did you understand from this?" Without hesitation, they replied. " It is flight without a fight". Grandpa smiled and said," Exactly for the same reason, the vented red bulbuls left our pandal". Though he had mentioned about the ‘flight response’ many times, the backyard birdman knew it would definitely go the kids’ mind and make them readily accept the end part of the story. 

Now, the narrator took them by the third fork on the winding road, through a sparsely wooded area. Cackle of birds filled the air, and an eagle was chasing a small bird. Suddenly the prey dove towards the ground, landed gently and lay still on the ground. The predator lost interest in hunting a 'dead' prey and flew away. Grandpa, taking over the narrative, said "our red vented bulbul must be doing this act to escape the attention of predators to remain safe" 

The children still insisted on knowing what the birds were doing at present. Did they build a nest! Did they raise nestlings? Where are they?  

The kind hearts of children may grudgingly accept the fact that birds eating insects and worms is part of the ecosystem. But such a fate-in-waiting for the eggs, nestlings and even for the red vented bulbul…..? 

The story had come to a dead end when the third fork on the road, going nowhere, reaching a cul de sac. Grandpa had to end the narrative and he explained, “Every species has its own instinctive mechanism for survival. We have seen the red vented bulbul in our backyard and at times on trees and on cable T V wires. It proves that a bird survives all these hurdles and hardships for and from predators. And in the same way, our backyard birds would have survive, built a  nest and nurtured nestlings, somewhere else.  Happy now!” 

The kids remained in pensive silence. The grandfather thought the kids were trying to come to grips and accept this alternate reality. But he was in for a rude shock, when they broke the silence and said, “Grandpa, let us think like this. The birds were attempting to build the nest for the first time, and not satisfied the way they had done it, wanted to redo it in another place.  That was why they left our backyard leaving the nest unused.” 

“What you people are trying to tell me now? You people only asked me about the third fork on the road”

 Just this. We could have avoided this narrative via the third fork on the road.  The story would have ended there, at our backyard itself! 

It was the turn for the backyard birdwatcher to remain silent.

The 30 minutes with MoP 332

 

He is neither a Member of Parliament not in the Ministry of Personnel. Sometimes you may chance upon him in bylanes or at times can see him through his window. Each type of sighting is a story in itself. 

He is a CAD (coronary artery disease) patient, and his interventional cardiologist had advised (prescribed) a vigorous walk of 30 minutes every day, after inserting two stents and billing a sizeable chunk of money. Dripping with Kindness, he had also included a caveat 'or as tolerable' for the walk. 

MoP is methodical, in this regard. First forms and opinion and then goes about avoiding that person. He has an aversion to meet with and talk to people, while on a task. He considered it as a waste of time and they in turn deemed it as a wasted kindness. More or less, it left MoP alone, but for a few leashed and stray dogs who have not yet received or acknowledged his message. He could not attribute a reason for this canine behaviour, but being wary of them getting too close to him without broadcasting their noble intentions, he avoided them to the extent possible. So, the bylanes in the locality became his haunt.

For another inexplicable reason, the strays lounging there ignored him completely. The 30-minute vigorous walk had become a sore point in his life, as his better half taking matters in her own hands had pasted xerox copies of the doctor’s prescription on the walls of the house. To him it looked like cinema posters of yester years without featuring the faces of actors. MoP, unable to decide which, leashed or stray dogs, had more itching teeth to bite, bravely ventured out for the prescription walk. This kind of uncanny interest shown by the canine tribe, had forced him off the main road and into bylanes.  

He did not realise that he was the reason for this near miss episodes. New to ‘this heavy exercise’ he was panting like the dogs do after a run and this must have angered them. Had he chosen, he could have befriended them with 'kibbles' or 'nibbles'. Since he considered them as a waste of his money, the canines have almost decided to taste the flesh on his calf muscle by way of their reply. 

His 30 minutes prescription walk, in the bylanes, went on smoothly for a few days. On a fine day, literally the weather was cool & breezy, this was about to change. The stray dogs by instinct exercise strict control over their territory. Transgressions are met with bared teeth, jiu jitsu, judo and kung fu postures as if they had choreographed Jet Li, Bruce Lee, Tony Jaa and Jackie Chan for their fight sequences. Somehow through their bared teeth and chorus barks, a newcomer evicted from another bylane had gained entry and simply pretended to be asleep. Though they are stray dogs, they do have some honour codes. They don't bark at the sleeping dogs! 

A few days of this play acting gained that new stray dog its permanent residential rights. Though MoP had been seeing that sleeping dog, he never suspected it to be a new entrant. As usual, on that day, he resumed his 30-minute routine from a particular point which ended near the tree. The newcomer, on his own sleep-won rights, had made that same tree as his operating base. The newcomer snarled, bared its teeth and raised a racket without even bothering to get up. This racket brought all other stray dogs rushing to the spot to join the party to feast or watch the drama from the sidelines.  MoP did not pause to analyse. 

The 30-minute walk was for maintaining his heart in good health. If he could not safeguard his general health, then what was the fun in doing that 30-minute thingy? He, our MoP, decided to take his walkathons to indoors. He immediately recognised the latent benefits in this decision. The twin problems of meeting with the unpredictable stray dogs and facing the bothersome people got solved in one fell swoop. 

Since he was fully committed to implement the doctor's advice without let or slip, the xerox copies of the prescription stuck on the walls found a safe haven in the waste basket. Irritants and MoP shared a peculiar sort of umbilical connection. Either he finds them or they confront him.! 

Mercifully, MoP was unaware of this family lore - his mother got constantly irritated, till his birth, by the happenings in the womb. She had decided he was solely responsible for all the discomforts she had endured. 

Due to his walkathons in the house, his better half decided and supplied a fresh stock of irritants.  He barrelling down and she unwittingly coming in the opposite direction on some chore or the other, resulted in an accident almost once during that 30-minute period, every time he walked.   

The sudden brake applied, like the pneumatic variety hissing and sounding in anger, started taking the knee joints to relaxants and pain killers. To be on the safer side, she started to wear a helmet and knee guards inside the house, while MoP went on nonchalantly walking his minutes to his heart’s content. 

This physical discomfort apart, to vent her simmering anger, she burnt some telecom spectrums to share her agony by passing out ‘he runs marathons inside the house itself' sort of comments.  

Agony did not disturb him, but the comments became the new set of irritants. After designating them as occupational hazards, he continued the 30-minute routine with a little more vigour. 

Those who have missed him in the bylanes have now become happier - the dogs need not unnecessarily rake their brains to decide whether to bite or chase or not and the people, with whom he never engaged, deciding on ‘ignoring is better than recognition' salve. 

The curious ones - man and stray dog, confirmed his well-being by watching him through the windows! In the meanwhile, once again taking matters in her own hands, for the sake of her own well-being, she had secretly got an appointment to plead with the interventional cardiologist to alter the prescription regarding the 30-minute walks. If that is not possible, will he kind enough to make it strictly an outdoor thingy! To make it stick, he could also add a line about oxygen level in the blood stream. 

By the way, who is this MoP?

None other than Matter of Perspective! Or should he be called ‘Materia de perspectus’ as he had unfulfilled dreams to learn Latin.