Imaginch in pursuit of unproductive quests: -319-

Keeping quiet when the answer is not known and not answering a question that is not directed at you is enlightenment. Asking a question and waiting till such time that no one has the answer and then answering it is enlightenment by education, of others. 

You see the book in his hand, before you notice his presence. He keeps constantly turning the pages and avidly reading them. Don’t jump into a false conclusion that he is enriching his knowledge! He is only trying to assimilate doubts rather than clarity. To clear the pile of doubts, he tried to reason it out to himself and frequently resorted to turning the pages of books, which obviously got dog-eared.  Aware of this fact, his friends have come up with a nickname which they thought of as apt - “bookworm”. If they have done their due diligence, they would have come up with a modified moniker – “doubting book worm.” 

It would not come as a surprise to know, what he did after coming to know the nickname. - he started searching for the origin, worldly meanings and its applicability as a universal epithet! 

Then, he found out that this word also referred to the larva of a beetle, which happily thrived by feeding on the paper- handwritten or printed and the glue used to bind the books. This again took him on a hunt to know whether his nickname placed him in the literary pursuit category or consigned him to the status of a larva in the woodworks. Are you wondering now, why his friends did not coin the nick name as "doubting bookworm" to begin with. The inside scoop is this is a cleverly constructed façade of Imaginch. 

He used his free time to undertake seemingly unproductive quests. He dived headlong into them not bothering about a helmet.  Once a problem or confusion gets his attention, he seldom lets it go easily. He starts the process of dissecting and re-assembling it in his quest to find a solution. He has become an example for the famous Peter's principle, " there will be some left-over parts, after completing the assembly." To keep Don Quixote in good humour, he relentlessly went on tilting at the windmill. 

It is not by chance that he identifies one of many such unproductive pursuits. He only has to pull it out from a mental list, which sometimes hangs in confusion. Once successful, it buoys up his spirit to crave for one more.  With redoubled efforts, he repeats this endless cycle of fruitless quests for analysis. 

One of his grandchildren presented him with one such problem. He wanted to use every opportunity to impress upon them the value of discipline in education. To lit fire to their imagination, he put up a parade of great scientists, inventors and innovators and explained their struggles and life achievements in great detail.  He emphasised that their minds filled with purpose, combined with tireless effort made it possible to achieve their goals! 

After patiently having heard these acoustic laden accounts, with minor variations on different occasions, one day they confronted him with this stumper - as a kid, did you not know about all these greats personalities and their hard work? If only you had, now you might be quoting yourselves also as another shining example to emulate, instead of importing them! After this encounter, Imaginch though in discomfort, that he had managed to identify one more unproductive quest to pursue. Never minds defeats, when he is firing on all cylinders. His credo - Ignore the backfire or Octane number or any other fancy description! 

Undaunted by this set back, he was on the lookout for another one. His sight settled on looks, not of the appearance type. He has heard and at times he himself had experienced that faraway look or closed eyes phenomenon. The faraway look focuses on nothing but still people employ it, in deep thinking or doing no thinking! How is it possible to be not thinking of anything and why the eyes refuse to register and transmit to the brain what they are observing? 

What happens in the mind when the eyes are closed - does it receive signals or messages from sources unknown? Personally, he had seen nothing with that faraway looks and received no messages when the eyes are closed shut.  Is it a common experience or only he failed to get something out of these exercises? Another dead end reached in yet another unproductive quest. 

News items on psychics or clairvoyants having predicted centuries ago about today's miseries caught his attention promising to be the next unproductive quest to follow through. Sceptic but curious, he decided to pose these questions and find answers for them.  How could the psychics or clairvoyants travel forward in time? Was the travel faster than light? And if so, why none of them found the answer to settle the doubt on the big bang or just like that our universe got squeezed out of a tube-like the tooth paste we are familiar with? Whether the visions came to them or they went in search of them? What was the format - analog or digital or some other form of communication yet to be invented by human beings? 

For argument’s sake he was ready to accept their vision on the origin of big bang. But they should clear these points:  How could a psychic or a clairvoyant   reach the origin of the big bang, unless he or she had prior knowledge of its location? Are they not bending the rules of Newton, Einstein, Bohr, Heisenberg, Schrodinger et al, all the way to that point and back to earth? What was the source for that phenomenal speed of zillion times the speed of light? Were they privy to locations of wormholes and licensed to steer warp drives?

For a long time, he had been pursuing another unproductive quest - of astrologers decoding what the planets had to foretell. For him, the motion of planets around the Sun maintaining the status quo looked fair enough. The other thing that held his interest is the arrival of comets or comet-like objects from Oort Clouds or beyond. They have rendezvous with the Sun and make their return journey. He wanted to find out what for these icy rocks undertake such a journey.  Are they not capable of contributing some icy portends to these astrological predictions based on the planetary positions at birth of an individual or a nation and current planetary transits in various parts of the zodiac? 

As many astrologers there are that many varied predictions there will be. Why there is no unanimity as the planets are the same? Why these predictions predictably come out at the fag-end of every year or whenever a war breaks out or when natural calamities strike? As a fallback arrangement, why, these comets and comet-like non-resident objects are roped in to play the villain? He hit the pause button here, to end another unproductive quest. 

The hue and cry about the denial of hall-marked visas and the surgical strike on the workforce to reduce foreign skill and the loss of face of the returnees back at home, catapulted Imaginch on another unproductive quest. He did not understand why the so-called developed nations fail to foresee the reactions that will visit them out of their own ill-advised actions. The first sized European nations and continent-spanning country, bleeding from self-inflicted wounds are themselves the reason.  When unchecked immigrants choke their throats, they belatedly shut one door and opened another. 

The door that got closed will cost them billions per year. The international students shut down their ATMs that was bank rolling academic institutions and augmenting helping hands in business establishments. The door that they opened is by way of toeing the tariff footprint in procrastination. The choke holds what they wanted to apply on other passive nations will turn back to choke them economically. Both the doors left the businesses gasping for air and walking with crutches.! 

Why don’t nations operate under logic rather than discrimination? Utterly defeated in his quest to straighten the world order with a few words, Imaginch took a deep breath and closed the file as a foolish attempt. 

Why photon does not get tired even after travelling, at the speed of light and for billions of years? What will happen when they really get tired?

Even for a bright bulb (required to emit photons), Mr. Einstein’s interwoven space and time is a far-fetched concept. He managed to bend and wrap Imaginch’s mind in confusion with the theory “At the speed of light, time dilates (slows down), length contracts(decreases) and mass increases all conspiring to keep the speed of light a constant”.

Then, he tried to emulate Einstein and did a thought experiment. A photon having no mass, travelling at the speed of light (299,792,458 m/s) did not get tired, because from its reference frame it experiences an extreme time dilation, to reach its destination instantly. Hence has no time even to register its tiredness! Imaginch not being a photon became dog tired during his thought experiment and did not have the energy to read that article again! 

If and if, earth decided to take exactly 24 hours, not a second more or less, to complete one rotation what would happen?

He needed help from someone who had understood the implications. Imaginch simply nodded his head in confusion but remembered whatever was explained. “The sun rise and sun set will not be in the morning and evening. A new cycle will be established that also will change in a cyclic manner, such as midday sun rise and midnight sun set and so on.  A mere four-minute increase could throw our life permanently out of gear”. Feeling frightened, he started to worry about his life at this point. 

Disbelief and curiosity still hammering around the walls of his brain, he raised the white flag. In defeat of his fruitless and unproductive pursuits, he sent out an appeal for help. "I hope it will not be too much of an ask, if anyone of you could clear all my queries at your convenient time, dispassionately and logically. Keeping this in mind, I will wait in anticipation." 

Wait he did. Number of people responded with their own list of unproductive pursuits that they have carried out, unsuccessfully. Equal number of people replied with suggestions for him to consult a psychic or clairvoyant for a séance to ascertain his mental health. Apologetically, they admitted that whatever names of psychic or clairvoyant, they wished to suggest, are no more in this world and their whereabouts unknown to them. 

In the pile of letters, one of the envelop was looking different in size, texture and colour. With unbridled curiosity, Imaginch opened it and withdrew an equally different in size, texture and coloured sheet with foldings and creases perfectly done with care. In a calligraphic style lettering, the note advised him to visit a famous psychiatrist in the city. Thoughtfully the writer had furnished the address, contact phone number with e-mail particulars. 

Master in the field of unproductive quests, Imaginch locked the letter in a safe, planning to take it out when no other unproductive quest demanded his immediate attention!

ChintaMany's beefs: -318-

 “If everyone’s missed this one, then there could be many more that everyone’s missed as well.” After reading this sentence, ChintaMany started thinking where these thoughts might fit in his scheme of worries, anger, desperation or any other strong feeling about any other thing. As if to pod him into action, certain news items cried for his attention.  

A volcano of anger erupted in ChintaMany's mind. Day in and day out, he has been watching and reading about this one lot -of- no-good-doers getting exposure as if they are supernatural beings rivalling the rocky interstellar visitors. The abysmal depth to which the world has fallen to give these warts a halo of glory, worried him. 

As is his habit, ChintaMany boils over first and then checks if the fire is properly lit or not. It took time and patience to understand why is he erupting and where he wants to divert the flow of lava? As he has never failed them, his friends have secretly honoured him with this acronym - AFATLER (act first and think later). 

What are his beefs?  

Somewhere an ordinary citizen gets fatally knocked down on the road by a speeding vehicle or an inebriated person behind the wheel. It definitely did not deserve much more space than two or three paragraphs or a 5 second clip buried under tons of advertisements. This had happened on the pedestrian walkway and in broad day light did not appall the minds behind the media. 

His next target the notorious people getting outrageous publicity.  A gang operating from a ‘mulable’ geographical strip, abutting two or three national borders becomes labelled as an international entity. More their illegal activities like smuggling drugs, arms or humans more the publicity they get. He considers this as an act to egg them on to aim for greater notoriety, with impunity. Achieving greater notoriety, these individuals/groups get mentioned in the UN and if lucky get ‘sanctioned’. The poor human ‘mules’ don’t get as much publicity, leaving the animal kind to wonder what this is all about 

ChintaMany’s issue is not with what businesses they engage themselves in, but with the ego boost given to these no-good-doers by the free-of-cost publicity in print and electronic media. This bothered him. He is boiling over because in a way these media outlets act as a beacon helping them to increase their reach to haul in more and more customers. Media accounts pay scant attention to highlight the miseries heaped on the passive public. As if to ease the burden of conscience a few investigative journalists attempt to expose and vanish without a trace. Media keeps mum, why? 

How the publicity part of it starts? It rests on the premise “the public should know or wants to know.” A rowdy sheeter is apprehended and soon his exploits along with his photograph, gets splashed(print) and flashed (electronic).  Is this to unmask the culprit or to frighten the public?  He has another beef with the apprehending agencies to which he would come a little later. 

A drug smuggler is caught red handed with a load of banned items ready for distribution. What happens next? Cameras click, microphones capture sound-bytes and braving a stampede among themselves, the reporters rush to send home the ‘treasure’ for wide dissemination. All in true public spirit! In their hurry the reporters missed the opportunity to interview the smuggler about his modus operandi. No problem, they will make it up with 'an operative of an international ring or bangle' tag. 

A counterfeiter lands in custody with freshly printed currency bundles. Apprehending agencies deem it a good photo op and pose with the cache, thoughtfully allowing the criminal to hide his face behind a mask. Why should a counterfeiter get this privilege? Is the apprehended such a valuable ‘statue’ to be kept covered before inauguration? 

In the case of human trafficking, the rings history, modus operandi, payment modes and other unwanted information is brought to the public almost painting this act as a heroic exploit. ChintaMany had a double beef- one for the painting on the offenders and the second for not painting the gruesome picture on the sufferers. 

The drama ‘heist gone awry' ends in an anti-climax, when their getaway vehicle is flagged down for a traffic violation! The heist gang do not mind posing for a quick 'click' wearing the supplied hoods, before being bundled into a police van.

ChintaMany had a few doubts on this ‘heist gone awry’ episode. How the police van came to the scene so fast and was that a roving reporter who clicked the heisters and who was playing into whose hands? 

The same drama unfolds whenever an apprehended criminal is brought into a court. ChintaMany's beef is why should the public not get a glimpse of a criminal? Whom are they shielding, the public or the criminal? 

Why should words like king and lord are dishonoured by associating them with a ‘pin’ and a ‘drug’, to describe criminals as kingpin and drug lord? Is this not a perfidy on the language to confer such noble titles on notorious persons? The pity is the agencies have to rope in the silent mule, both human and animal, as essential elements, to describe the elaborate networking. 

ChintaMany’s biggest beef comes next. What harm the innocent collar has wrought on the society, to contribute to the vocabulary to list the crimes committed by persons from different walks of life- as "white collar" "Green collar", "Brown collar”, “Blue collar" and so on? Has the literate society given up its hope of finding other suitable descriptive words?  Why do they have beefs with kings and lords? 

A notorious arms dealer, a merchant of death, who thumbs his nose at the society and law enforcements might become the Merchant of Vengeance (R.I.P William Shakespear). The master mind of theft, architect of terror gets eulogised, in absentia if he had gone underground or feigned untraceable though he regularly holds ‘court’ in public glare. Why is he untraceable? 

When a passerby is killed, individuals and banks lose money, innocent people are subjected to terror, drugs and illegal arms trade, why are the perpetrators allowed to hide behind a hood, obviously not out of shame?

With readership and viewership in mind, is the media opting to bury sensibilities in the name of sensational coverages? Why on their part, the public should look for sensational coverages? Is it as an antidote to boost the quality of humdrum existence, as long as it covers others' plight? 

Free speech is taken for granted to utter thoughts inimical to the wellbeing of the nation. No doubt, everyone has an issue, if one is unable to solve it or live with it, why not migrate to a country where your free speeches are welcome? News outlets falling prey to sensationalism or bias, pour out words and visuals to elevate these voices to the status of freedom fighters. The true freedom fighters fought for everyone and this pseudo freedom fighters fight for a few.  Why politicians have the Midas touch - start dirt poor and end up owning mountains. Are they the standing example (they contest elections) for starting from scratch…

The fortunate ones build a retirement corpus and grumble about its insufficiency. The poor, who has nightmares about earning money for the day never gets to dream about a retirement plan. How to describe this mindset - as “buttoned up collar” crime? 

In the end, a question mark stood before ChintaMany. Why is he ranting at things and really what is his beef with these beefs?

A grandfather's reverie: Come again, summer times! -317-

When the grandchildren descend for summer holidays, the days become hectic and fun filled. He could not help but to reminisce about his summer holidays - stay at home, roam in he neighbourhood with friends, dropping mango, tamarind (ripe or unripe how does it matter!), and gooseberry excelling the prowess of a Arjuna or a Karna, by accurately hitting them with small stones and then eagerly retire to taste them, under the shade of the same trees from which we have borrowed the eatables. Fun of a thrilling kind! 

The fun lasted till such time the landlord or his caretaker came barreling down, shouting threats. We beat a hasty retreat. What else could we do, as we had stolen his produce without permission.  If nothing like that was on the agenda, a dive in the pond with a ride on the back of a buffalo enjoying a bath there or run after tractors transporting harvested sugar cane to snatch some. 

The purloined sugar cane tasted sweeter though we suffered incidental cuts and bruises to show for our efforts! In our world, all these are a given and taken for granted activities. How, then will we enjoy our summer holidays simply staying at home? Complaints, admonishments and the scorching sun did not deter us. 

The second act of the drama called summer vacation repeated with our children. Sometimes they spent a portion of their holidays with relatives and sometimes we played host for the children of relatives, like a rotating summer camp, under the care of the respective mothers. Braving the storm, they might have yearned for a ‘somewhere else’ holiday of their own! 

On weekends, it was the turn of the fathers to bear the brunt and help them to burn their energy with games, walks and hobbies. Whenever our children had to stay home, all by themselves, they were under a drill master's constant glare to prevent any loose cannon being fired, by way of mischiefs or misdeeds. Concern, of the mother, of course. 

Then came a lull period, as in the eye of a cyclone. Our children moved out for studies and at those summer holidays, they made their own arrangements, probably to escape from our constant lectures on dos and don’ts. A sort of revenge holidays. 

After a few years, now it is the grandchildren who perform the act three of the drama, called summer vacation. They bring with them such energy into the act, more than sufficient to turn a gust of wind into a ferocious tornado! Slowly we also get drawn into this maelstrom 

When they were young a few bedtime stories helped. As the years rolled by, they have reached the stage from where they take pleasure in terrorising us with horror stories.  I do not know the physics and chemistry of the origin of their energy. It mysteriously peaks at bedtime, even after lavishly spending it from dawn to dusk!  To my tired body and mind, their chit-chat often sounded like garbled messages from the Voyager probe. 

One day, the bedtime chit-chat hooked into me like a harpoon and made me to sit upright. Give a listen to their conversation, which I managed to reproduce verbatim.  

"Noise can break silence. What can break noise?"

The vacuum!

"What is a rest mass?"

Glancing surreptitiously at me, one kid answered, "Which is not doing any work!" 

Why planets go around? 

Not to get bored! This is tossed as a rebuttal to me, for telling them not to roam in the neighbourhood.

"What is purpose?"

"Just you asked me a question. That is, it!".

This again is intended as a sarcastic answer, as I question them often, the purpose of going around in the neighbourhood. 

"Where a thief will get his food!"

"Of course, from a fast-food joint!"

One day they snuck out and munched on snacks at a street corner joint. I had seen them and they had seen me. This jibe is veiled reminder not to spill their secret. 

"Why a tap leaks?"

“To do a self-test!

This was a cloaked reference, again directed at me, for spilling the beans about their secret visit to the fast-food joint. 

"What will happen, if a parrot is given a carrot?"

“It will go nuts!”

 Obviously, you don't want me to reveal the identity of the intended target! 

These youngsters know how to make a quick buck, when you are ready to cry a halt.

They took their revenge on the next day, for spilling the beans, and forced me (affectionately) to swipe my card and allowed me to secretly weep at the amount on the printouts. 

Back at home, the grandma, thinking that these brats must have exhausted themselves, fed them luscious food. She did not understand why they were frequently glancing at each other and then at me as if we all shared a common secret. After tousling their hairs with loving care, she gave me an enquiring look. I was tongue tied to say anything and silently placed the cash receipts in front of her. Losing interest, and a bit disappointed in not discovering the hidden secrets, she left. 

That day’s bedtime was more spirited and filled with banter. With more nervous energy to spend, they chose to stage a satire filled Q & A session.  I could have avoided it but joined them expecting my grandchildren to do something creative. The session progressed like this, and I decoded their quips, in to what they said and what they meant. Bear with me, it would be fun to read! 

Q: An apple a day keeps the doctor away.   (Grandmother forced them to eat fruits)

A1: Better, give the apple to the doctor. It is less expensive. 

Q: An early bird catches worms.                   (I always insisted, rain or shine, get up early)

A1: What happens, if the worms oversleep!

A2: Or, if the bird is not hungry?                  

 Q: Barking dogs don't bite.                          (Last week, I was almost a toast between a canine’s teeth)                    

A1: What if it bites first and then barks?    

A2: You mean, once more?                                    

 Q: A bird in hand is worth two in the bush.

A: Do the birds in the bush know this?

 Q: A crying baby gets the milk.                        (one of the kids does not like the smell of milk!)

A: What if the baby is protesting against it? 

 Q: A stitch in time saves many.                          (While stitching a button, I managed to break the

A:  Will it not leave the tailors also in tears.        needle into my index finger and a visit to a doctor)

 Q: Rolling stone gathers no mass.               (This jibe is on me, as a reed-thin person)

A: What if it is trying to lose its mass?

 Q: why you don’t want to a leapfrog.          (We insisted on them to be top in studies)

A: Don’t want to disappoint the other frogs, not born in a leap year!

 Q: Why history repeats itself?                    (Both the grandparents are guilty as charged)

A: To avoid forgetting the facts!

 Q: Why one man's medicine turns poison to another?

A: It is the medicine's side effect!               (This is to scare a free boarder)

 Q: Why it always rains when you are out without an umbrella?

A: To remind you that the umbrella is safe at home!   (I Forgot the umbrella and got drenched)

With all they said and did, it only added variety to our daily life, during their summer holidays. We went through a raising phase, mesa phase and a descending phase, a sort of sinusoidal curve but with a mesa region. Like the movie title "Come September" our entertainment is waiting for “The kids return for the Summer"

Clearly a confused mind - 316 -

What is a story? Imaginch's hovering mind tried to separate the threads from yarns. He was immensely pleased with the words ‘thread and yarn’, that tumbled into his mind from nowhere. This lead from nowhere, unerringly led him to the source. Ideas trigger the imagination and anyone who is inclined attempts to spin the yarn from these threads of thoughts. Doubly pleased with his own logical reasoning, he decided to get involved with a writer processing these threads to weave his or her tapestry. 

Imaginch tried to visualise the painful labour, a writer undergoes to deliver a story. He surmised that a writer would pick up an idea from the shelf of collected volumes or from hearsay information, and probably would select a theme, he or she would form the basis for the writing. Pursuing the same thinking, he imagined the set up with a table and chair, placed near a window to gaze in search of words or a sentence, from where the writer tries to drive the thoughts. 

He chose a known person as the subject for his study.  However, he decided to keep himself aloof to avoid impeding with the work in progress. He did not want to impose conditions on the writer’s freedom to choose his timings and methods. 

Oh! This 'work in progress’ phrase gave him the jitters. Many infra projects like metros, elevated corridors and expressways are still displaying this, like forever, proclaiming the wisdom "Today's inconvenience is tomorrow's convenience."  Imaginch had two options to choose from. To be a fly on the wall or be a ghost floating around the writer. Curiosity chose the latter, as he wanted to experience the art of spinning a yarn, from as much a close quarter as possible. 

The writer sat in the chair, rested his elbows on the table and held his chin held in cupped hands. With a faraway look, he let his gaze through the window. Imaginch followed suit, but did not see anything of interest. Suddenly, the writer closed his eyes, as if to sleep, taking Imaginch by surprise. Before he could understand why, the writer woke up with a start and wrote furiously a few sentences. At this point in time, the writer’s son entered the work space as if intending to stop the speeding thoughts to a screeching halt. The son had a problem to solve, and the father had a story to write but the son had his way. What else could Imaginch do except sympathising with the writer? 

He could not guess when the interrupted flow would resume. Sometimes, a midnight scramble to the writing desk and scribble in a shorthand, the writer invents on the go. The next morning, he would spend considerable time to decipher his "unique" shorthand! Leaving the writer to do the unscrambling, Imaginch would silently send his sympathies to the thoughts lost in the forest of invented short hand notations! This did not worry Imaginch, as he had a permanent tourist visa to stay near the writer and observe the story, whenever it unfolded.

Becoming frustrated, the writer chose the path of least resistance and diverted his story though a bypass road. This manoeuvre triggered a vague memory in Imaginch’s mind. This writer used to often boast about da Vinci who could write using whichever hand he wanted to, and the novelist Edgar Wallace who could dictate two or three novels simultaneously without getting lost in the plot or characters. The next day, he could resume from where he left, without referring to the transcripts.  Imaginch let out a, oops, the retiree must have forgotten them as he aged, perhaps!  

Though, he is yet to get a glimpse of the plot and the likely twists and turns in the narrative, the very act of witnessing the struggles kept his interest alive. Utilising the in between waiting time, he mentally organises all the known information about the writer. 

A retiree trying to revive his passion and taking shaky steps to become a writer. The son, who interrupted the writer some time ago, is bursting with enthusiasm to become an entrepreneur as a moonlighting venture. It was that proposal which interrupted the writer. 

Imaginch wondered, how long it would be before the writer returned to his thoughts?  Patience running out, he was about to call it a day, when suddenly the writer resumed at a furious pace. Pages filled up faster and there were many words supported by under linings, pointing out to misspelt words, repeated words or questioning and refusing to accept construction sequence in sentences. Abruptly, the flow stopped, as he struggled to find words to express the thoughts stumbling out of his mind. The writer took that logical step and powered down the laptop.

Imaginch recalled another piece of background information. The retiree had learnt type writing, during school holidays probably intending to be future ready! That explained the furious pace at which he had finished a part of his story, with mushrooming words with under lining markers.

Why did he ignore to harvest the mushrooms! He disliked order and structure. Another reason was the question ‘what percentage of the population still write adhering to rules of grammar? When the content is understood why then the wrinkles in the container could not be ignored?”.  Imaginch was delighted with the phrase “when the content is understood why then the wrinkles in the container could not be ignored” and was equally puzzled by this rebellious attitude of the writer. 

Ghost-watching the writer, Imaginch had this nagging doubt. Why is he keeping the title a secret? Or is it an amateur’s attempt to thumb his nose against the establishment?  Unable to follow the context of the story, Imaginch felt like a mariner lost with a defunct compass. 

The next attack on writing occurred so fast. Imaginch had to scramble and hover over the shoulders of the writer. The attempt was worth the paragraph, where the retiree was spilling his gut feelings. He lamented, “had dabbled in hobbies without pursuing a greater goal, had picked up on-the-job knowledge in science, mechanical, electrical, electronics, pneumatic and hydraulics in the course of four decades, but did not aim for any professional degree. I wanted to be an entrepreneur and with my no-risk mindset, but now I may have to become a stakeholder, in my son’s yet to take off venture." 

Imaginch started doubting whether the writer is confusing his story with that of his main character or vice versa? At this stage, even if the title of the story is affixed, he will have difficulty to guess the future course, the narrative would take. In this frame of mind, when the writer made an unforeseen error, it was a heart-wrenching moment also for Imaginch. 

The writer had this habit of recording his thoughts on a topic, literally on the go, using his smartphone to compose it as a draft in his email account (he has a dedicated one for this purpose). This happened more often and later on he would add them in the write up in appropriate places. On this day, he searched for that inspired piece of   writing. Then he did the unthinkable, before completing the cut and paste job he had inadvertently deleted the draft from the e-mail. Flummoxed, he did not think about recovering it from trash or bin folders. Did he curse, looking at the cellphone. Yes!  Did I see lot of eggs on his face. Yes! 

Undeterred by this setback, the writer continued with an entirely different narrative, drowning Imaginch in utter confusion. Unable to take it anymore, he called it a distressing session and scooted out of sight. On the next day, Imaginch was in for a surprise. The writer must have done his homework and had lifted the veil of secrecy on the title for his story. The title “Maybe a confused mind” said it all.

As things were warming up, the writer’s better half breezed in, voicing her irritation about the way he was wasting time, in the name of writing. “Seeds of your thoughts are lost in plots but never sprout.” For added measure she said angrily, " Don't you know any other way to spend your time usefully other than being an amateur writer? At this rate when will you complete a first draft?" Imaginch could only communicate his sympathy, albeit silently. 

This encounter produced the desired effect.  The writer began to focus on the title, torn between a desire to become an entrepreneur-partner or be an amateur writer. He smirked at the epithet - an amateur writer!  In exasperation, he questioned, when photography, astronomy and other scientific pursuits could proudly sport this amateur prefix, why should not he?”

From that point onwards, the story moved like a high-speed train. Sentences became paragraphs and paragraphs filled up pages. At the end of his efforts, the writer had a count of 2500 words, of course needing spell check and correction of grammatical mistakes.  Imaginch let out a sigh of relief that his ghost-watching had proved its worth. With a loud sigh, the writer also signalled a break for his literary effort.

Imaginch guessed that the writer needed some time to rejuvenate his brain cells to deal with the corrections and editing of the first draft. Would he dare to show the first draft to his better half! Yes, he did and as Imaginch anticipated, her review was incisive. “Needs extensive revision, tightening of the narrative and remove the ambiguities. Then change the title to Clearly a confused mind as this would be more reflective.  Do all these, you may still have a draft for a second revision!”

Imaginch understood the word play in the changed title but doubted whether the author in his confused state of mind took note of his wife's intended pun or satire! 

He hastily left the spot, himself a little 'clearly confused' about why he has taken such an interest in this writer. Clarity emerged, like sunlight breaking through thick cloud cover. Himself, the writer and the retiree happen to share similar dreams and ambitions. From this perspective emerged the reason why at all he wanted to be near the writer. He began to appreciate the import of the title and the impact of struggles an amateur writer has to withstand. 

In the end, he understood how an author goes about creating his work. Sometimes, a story begins to form when an aspiring author is left with nothing but to read his own drafts. Anguish, helplessness and hurt lined up the emotions that cry for an outlet. With nothing else to do at that moment of overwhelming despair, his agitated mind churns out words and he races to capture and record them. Maybe, he might salvage the outpourings, for use in one of his future attempts! 

Some other times, the rustle of leaves, bark of a dog at a distance, ringing of a bell or blaring of a horn might trigger thoughts and jostle for a place in a narrative. If the narrative is already set, these thoughts easily find a place, with suitable tailoring of words to match the plot. In case, the narrative itself is non-existent, then the spur of the moment thoughts ceases to exist, after leaving a bitter defeat in the mind of the author. A pity!

Sometimes, an idea has to be bulldozed into submission, to fit in to the narrative. A few times, it was the opposite - excavate and dump them to fill the recycle bin. Now, the author comes face to face with the wisdom that some ideas could stonewall the progress of a story. If the author is a compassionate person, then the the dumped write up is revisited for salvage. Here the author is like a teacher trying to correct an errant student.  Why to waste random thoughts, born out of rare flights of imagination? After exhausting the rehabilitation options, the author may initiate a mass exodus programme. Gives them refuge in a “Junk” folder as a check for the rainy day.

Imaginch thought, “Why should an author struggle so much?” Maybe, to release the pressure built up by the thoughts and plots or to prove that he too can write or yearning for appreciation as a writer. He mused, “Should an author be only compassionate but not a selfish person?”

He was struck by another thought – is this writer trying to cry, “I am a peacock, ya let me fly”

Having had his experience, Imaginch retired to read the story Clearly a confused mind. The writer’s perseverance deserved this justice. He admired the writer as he is not the one who expects a reply for an unwritten correspondence!

“What if” a thought journey on rails: - 315-

Imaginch was busy on counting the number of electric poles, on the side of the track and did not pay so much attention inside the a/c compartment. This game of counting the poles has never failed him to pass the time during a journey. He was not sure whether they were erected 50m or 60m apart.  Another doubt, what was length of welded rail, over which the train was travelling, less than 250m or more than that? Even when all these thoughts were going on in his mind, he did not fail to notice a vendor moving ahead with a tray filled with chocolates and crispies. That was a few moments ago.                

The wheels were making their rhythmic clickety-clack sound on the track.  Amidst this monotonous chattering, he could barely hear a child and his mother arguing about something. The child's voice sounded insistent and the mother kept trying to pacify him in a low voice. The voices were coming from three rows behind Imaginch   and at best he could catch only snatches of their conversation. In the interval between two clickety-clack sounds, he clearly heard the raised strident voice of the child asking, not pleading, “What if?” 

Imaginch seized the chance and added one more guessing game to the already ongoing counting exercise. More or less, he got the clue as to the likely subject matter under disagreement, when he suddenly remembered about the vendor who had passed by a few moments ago. That was enough for him to go on a wild goose chase and workout a possible scenario, to unravel the context for the “what if?”   He felt pleased with his logical deduction, based on the contents of the tray, and was ready to start the process. 

This “what if” was a good prey and he would chase it till the end to hunt it with his imagination.  The guess work on “what if?” taking precedence, he promptly postponed the counting of poles and the clickety-clacks, to the next trip. 

What if?  If this question is asked under different situations, how would he answer it? Imaginch started to think on this line. 

He mused, “These two words followed by a question mark is deceptive but appear simple. Any attempt to answer, is beset with unknowns and problems. He listed the unknowns as “the subject matter, the identity of the person and the situation in which the question is raised.” 

Why answering such a simple question becomes so difficult? Before mouthing this aloud, he remembered his own ‘deceptive and not simple’ caveat. 

Cautionary flags fluttered in his mind. Number one, before trying to answer the question, one should ascertain whether the answer is already known to the party. Number two, the identity of the person is vital to decide the manner in which the answer has to be presented. Number three, the purpose of this question being brought up for an answer. 

Then on, it is pure and simple. You can begin your guess work with gusto. For reasons best known to his travelling mind, the words guess and gusto reminded him of gusset plates used in railway bridges. Probably these words are trying to remind him to join his guesses as a gusset plate does!  Now, he is ready to venture and come up with these options and leave it to the person or the situation to pick the suitable answer. Here are a few of his laboured guesses and suggestions. 

Guess number one:

If it is your boss asking this question, how should you respond?  First, gauge his mood, bias and then decide whether the answer should be honest or pleasing. Before giving out the reply, you also have to assess the fall-out, if your opinion goes counter current to a n already frozen idea. After hanging this board of caution “Beware of hasty answers.”, he moved on to the next one. 

Guess number two:

If it is a colleague, how you would go about it? The options must have been iterated for some time in your colleague’s mind. The very fact that this question is being asked now, is to imply that there are some unresolved issues. Imaginch’s suggestion – Put yourself in his or her shoes and hat, analyse, address the fall-outs and then offer the opinion, after adding the prefix ‘if I were you.’ Is there any other  polite way of leaving the decision to him or her? 

Guess number three:

If it is a friend, then how to deal with it? In this case, an open and frank exchange of ideas would definitely be possible and welcome.  With the total information spread on the table, there is no scope for withholding crucial factors. The depth of friendship offers a great help to ensure that the whole discussion is solely for the benefit of the friend, without any bias. This is the best and conducive atmosphere, to offer a solution or an opinion without hanging any cautionary board. 

Guess number four: 

If it is a youngster, what how should it be handled? One thing is certain; the youngster will most probably be not from your household. This particular he or she must be - from the house of a relative, a colleague or a friend.  If this turns out to be the case, the subject on consultation might be narrowed down, depending upon the age and shared inputs, on the current thinking of the youngster, from your relative or friend or colleague It would mostly be on education or job opportunities. This takes a load of your mind. 

As an outside chance, if you sense the possibility that it might be concerning a marriage proposal, hold your thoughts and wait.  Now you would have to carefully view through the given glossed over account. In all probability, the youngster's mind must have been made up already in consultation with his friends.  

When it becomes clear that the objective and its sole purpose and intent is to get you to play the role of a "devil's advocate", seize the opportunity. Freely speak your mind. Happily, you can add your two bits worth of wisdom on accept or reject basis! The youngster will neither take the advice nor the wisdom part as an offence! Nicely packaged, is it not?  Imaginch felt pleased with himself for adroitly managing to skirt the issue without saying it is your choice! 

Guess number five:

If the question comes from a grandchild, how should it be dealt with it? One thing is certain that there will be no doubt about the subject. Before coming out with an answer, scramble for a pair of kid gloves and tread very, very carefully to avoid stepping over the sensitive feelings of the grandchild, his parents and his grandmother. Watch your words lest you step on a landmine!  The kid knows the trade routes and you will be lost even with google maps. The kid is a master negotiator and will lay out your weakness (mostly affection, kindness and other grandfatherly attributes) on the table, to clinch his SBTO (self-benefiting trade off) deals. The power of affection for the grandkid is such, you simply fold over, succumb and sign the deals. 

After agreeing to the deals, you may wind up paying his hidden whimsical tariffs too! The best choppy-free passage would be to give in without any resistance. Then, you are free to remove the gloves and fret in private, if you want to!   Imaginch’s advice “Grandkids are not to be taken for granted. Tip toe on eggshells.” 

Guess number six: 

If the question is asked by one of your kids and how should you respond? As a courtesy, they will give you an opening statement.  So, the subject part of it is now clear. Diligently prepare, edit and moderate your answers and present them as your views. After sufficiently dressing up   your uncertainties as experience and wisdom, deliver your opinions.  Be prepared for the likelihood that all your views may get rejected out of hand. 

Now, you are free to leave in a hurry to huff and puff but not before hearing this often-repeated quote – “You have not yet learnt to bridge the generation gap!” 

Guess number seven:

If the question comes from the mistress of the house, how to dare and handle it?  A very tricky situation indeed. If you blurt out a ‘I know the answer’, be prepared for this backlash “When have you known things that are useful or what part of it so useful, now?" If you don't know the answer, then also you are not off the hook, from this barb, " don't I know what you know?" 

Though you may wonder, ‘when you know, what I know then, why did you ask me!’

Here Imaginch dutifully raised a placard written in red letters - “for your sake don’t dare to voice it.” 

In spite of all these catches and traps, if you are ready to wear protective gears, then go ahead and answer it. If no such gadgets are on hand, then use the time tested and result guaranteed technique - nod your head, keep your counsel under advisement. But don't fret, fume, huff or puff even in private. It has consequences! 

After reviewing his thought lines on the last question, Imaginch decided he had reached the end of the journey. If he pushed forward, a collision is imminent with the thoughtfully provided buffer stop or dead end or buffer block, to stop his thought train at the end of the platform. He was happy that during this mental journey, he could actually identify some of the elements involved in the running of a train.