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.

Brahma with the searching souls: -314-

Before his excursion to the Earth, Brahma had expressed a desire to host a ‘meet-the souls’ event. Rarely, he gets side tracked but the projects Yama and Chitragupta brought up intervened and resulted in a postponement. Now another hick up has risen. He had permitted Chitragupta to go incommunicado to wherever and however long, to an undisclosed location, to think about his project. Yama remained untraceable, probably lecturing the sinful souls in some secret location or must have switched-off the tracking device.

Yama and Chitragupta would have enlivened the proceedings. But he was unwilling to create a doubt in the minds of the souls that he was the one vacillating to face them alone. He decided to go ahead with a ‘come what may, let me get it over with’ mindset. Within the limited space available to them, his heads started to move left and right, indicating agreement. He acknowledged them, ‘very considerate of you, my dear heads’.

On his signal, the waiting souls silently floated in and occupied their allotted hanging space. Brahma surveyed them, looking for such bent upon souls with intent to parley with him. On their part, the souls silently willed one another, to come forward and be the ‘spokes-soul’. 

A slight smile played on Brahma's faces, as he watched them hedging. Maybe this could be to his advantage or it might turn out to be the deceptive act of the souls. Before going incommunicado, Chitragupta had studied the list of attendees and left warning notes about this deceitful behaviour. He noticed some of them getting impatient and beginning to gyrate and soon like leaves in a gentle breeze every one followed suit.  On any other occasion, Bramha would have enjoyed and appreciated this waveform dance. 

At random, he pointed out at a soul and gestured it to come forward and said, “Pose as many questions as you want to, but you have to answer every one of them”. The soul hesitated to float forward. To ease its apprehension, Brahma chose four more souls, indicating that they would be next. 

This settled the hesitant soul and posed this question: “Illusion is not reality yet reality is an illusion, why?” 

Brahma was all ears to hear this scientist’s philosophical explanation. The soul straightened a little and said," Let me tell a story. We, a group of students were listening to our teacher trying to explain the difference between illusion and reality. He used this day-to-day example. We can't see air but it exists. To make it visible, he just threw a fistful of coloured powder and declared, ‘Now, the air reveals its presence but needed a colouring material’. He ended by saying, though air was invisible, it became visible by the movement of the colouring material in it.” 

Continuing the soul said, “Before the class ended, one student asked this doubt. “Sir, you have not explained this. The air existed in reality and yet we needed the movement of the coloured particles to perceive it. In that case, is it not the projected illusion?  The colouring material created a reality and the mind confirmed it?  The student wanted to know, "why to prove an invisible reality by making it visible?  Why, we need to use two other realities namely the powder and movement of air, to prove an existing reality?" 

Brahma understood that being humble, this soul did not claim the credit for posing these questions. Besides, he had indirectly managed to position his thinking - why to prove a reality by looking at an illusion, when that illusion itself was created by using two other realities? The philosophical connotations the student had made was that one’s own perception made it temporary and relative whether it was real or an illusion. 

Immensely pleased, Brahma decided to reserve a slot to have an exhaustive one to one with this spirit, to discuss about holographic universe and maya, at the end of this session. To test the perception of this soul in depth, Brahma readied some typical questions. 

Chitragupta had marked this particular soul, second in line, as a bundle of confusion. To test the level of confusion, Brahma had arranged to have a highly polished object.  He called the second soul and asked, “What do you see?"

The soul replied, "An image of me." 

“Can you feel the image or hold it in your hands?”

“No. How can I, it is not a real?”

“If you move away, then what happens?”

“I, no longer would see the image.”

“Now, what do you think of this image - real or an illusion created by your mind?”

The soul remained silent. Brahma thought, “Probably he was not a bright student in the class. Let me try in another fashion.” 

Brahma asked. “Would you be able to picture yourself in your mind?”

“I tried to many times ,but found it impossible.”

“Which of my examples would answer your question with a better explanation - illusion is not a reality but reality could become an illusion?”

The soul fumbled for an answer and replied, "Oh, Brahma, who else would be a better teacher to clarify my doubts about illusion and reality. What would you command me to do?”

Brahma thought to himself, “He has chosen the path of surrender!

“Spend time here and find answers about your existence – a reality or an illusion?” 

With a little swagger, showing attitude, the third soul, posed these doubts.

“When assumed, it is there and if searched for, it is not there, why?”

“When something is created from nothing, then the something will create nothing, why?” 

Brahma felt another philosophical talk coming out, this time from a biologist.  

The soul continued, “Life forms encompassing botany, zoology, ecology, and genetics started this long journey, from next to nothing. Evolution proceeded by creating diversity, structure, function, growth, and interactions of one life form with another. So many things have been created, not relying on that initial nothingness anymore. This answers the first question. 

The stock of nothingness having been exhausted, no more newer things are being created. This is my explanation to the poser that if from nothing something has been created then the created something has used up everything and leaves nothing, really nothing! This is the answer for the second question.” 

Brahma had the same exact feeling he used to get, whenever Chitragupta tried to explain something but ends up really not to explain anything! He chuckled to himself, “Pitting this soul against Chitragupta would be fun to watch from the sidelines!” 

Will the fourth soul be any different? Shall I call for a break? Over ruling his own need for a break, Brahma called that spirit to come forward. 

The soul started with, “Assume it is there and search for it, it is not there!” and “why illusion and reality are being treated as separate entities”? 

Brahma wondered why this soul is repeating the question asked and explained earlier? 

Unaware of this, the soul continued. “Assumption is based on certain things learned or heard. Illusion is one such assumption. Human mind does not stop at this point. It tries to device ways to prove the existence of an illusion as real. In this condition, if an argument is made that an assumption is an illusion, then it becomes a knowledge of reality. Now, where is the illusion? How it will be accepted - as an illusion of a fertile mind that has created a reality? 

The second question is, if mind can create both the illusion and the reality, why it is trying to deal with it as separate entities? Is mind trying to seek an escape portal to the safety of illusion, from experiencing the hard realities? If there is an in between state, what it would be called and why it is not being deliberated? There are many questions but few answers for this. 

Brahma sat upright. This soul had posed one question and in answering it, it had posed many other questions begging for answers. It deserves credit for having come here to seek and find the philosophical depths. Brahma decided to take the time to fully go through the points, word by word, not to understand but to frame a response to convince the soul that spoke in questions! This soul competed with the third souls to remind him of Chitragupta and his explanations! 

The fifth and final candidate, fidgeting to spend nervous energy, came forward unbidden. It spoke, “Is there a thing called reality or illusion.? Is it not a delusional shroud, to get away from finding out what they are? 

This line of questions Piqued Brahma and he hurriedly ran a mental check for any alert Chitragupta might have left on this soul. Yes, he found the flag-almost won a Nobel Prize. It confused him a little as his protégé has not added a note about this Nobel thing. He decided to let the ‘almost won Nobel soul’ to continue. 

“Some of the interpretations of quantum mechanics, particularly the entanglement and worm holes have led to the philosophical discussions in popular media about whether "reality is an illusion" or "at least locally not real." The religion can simply allude to it as maya and leave it at that. But science cannot afford to do that, as it strives to offer an explanation or proof on empirical evidences and testable hypotheses. Currently it has come to the view that the universe is objectively real, even if our perception of it is limited or can be described by complex models at best as locally not real! 

The religion can survive without offering a proof but science cannot remain still but has to push the limits to reach a level of understanding, where it no longer under an obligation to provide proof. Religion leaves it to perception. Science tries to demystify by leveraging quantum phenomenon, super positioning and a host of novel theories and hypotheses to say “nothingness exists but inside something that has been created from it!” 

Brahma wondered whether this point on ‘nothingness exists but inside something that has been created from it’ would satisfy the third soul that raised this question or he would get another complex explanation! He also noted that the souls who spoke first, third and fifth, shared one thing in common - thinking and trying to explain what reality is and what is not. 

He broke the silence and asked, “why did you not get the Prize?” 

“I declined it. They asked me why? I asked them a question, that did sit well with them” 

“What did you ask?” 

“Why to search for answers when universe itself is the answer?”  And they queried, “Where from this question came?” 

I smugly replied, “From the universe itself!” They did not leave it there and persisted, “What about the multiverse?” 

In reply, I asked, “Hold an object in between two mirrors, how many reflected objects you would see? When the object is removed, will the mirrors have anything but themselves to reflect.?  A real object is needed to create virtual objects. First, understand the original and then try to explore the other universes. I would argue and answer that multi and parallel universes are but reflected images of an original, from different angles and perspectives. 

One more candidate getting an entry, Brahma thought he would have a busy time, with three one-to one discussions. It would be tan opportunity to find out how far the human race has advanced to understand about all the created universes under his care! While thinking like this, his heads reverberated with the doubt whether all the above-mentioned universes are really under his care or merely it is an illusion created by his multiple minds?

Before concluding the session, Brahma carefully listed some counter questions and his own explanations to convince any of the souls still hovering over doubts.

Oh! Chitragupta, where are you? We have to mount a spirited defense.

The journey of a puppy dog: -313-

The streets were interconnected by twisting lanes which were lined with bushes, wildflowers and hovering insects, a primary school with a laidback curriculum, an open meadow marking the end of the village, a picture-perfect set up. A conducive village atmosphere which offered plenty of spaces for the children to play and a chance to observe pups in various stages of growth, from as close a quarter as their mothers would permit.

At times, the children would bring peace offerings such as a cup of milk, crumbs of breakfast or a little lunch. Of course, without the knowledge of grownups, otherwise, will there be fun? The children knew that by earning the gratitude and trust they would get the free pass to cuddle, pet and play with her pups.

In the village, only a few households had pet dogs. Being agriculturists, they used them as chaser dogs to drive away straying livestock from the crops, as their security detail during night visits to the fields and as a sentinel during the rest of the time. A curious boy, slightly different from others of his age, loved dogs and especially had a soft corner for newborns or twaddling puppies. Since his house had no pet dog, he spent many hours in watching and befriending the village dogs and pups.

On that morning, the sunrise was beautiful. Though, the puppy had watched many before this, it never failed to thrill him. On cue, the pangs of hunger began to rumble in his stomach and with a yip, he started the search for his mother. With a sweep of his head, he noticed his three siblings were making their way to the source of food (milk). The boy also had watched many of this this never varying characteristic routine and was fun to watch the twaddling of the puppies.

The mother lay sprawled, after feeding their hungry stomachs, to catch a breath and a wink or two. Hunger vanquished, the pups wanted to spend some energy. Their first target, obviously and always was the mother. They cautiously attempted to climb over her back. In a rush to be the first, each one tried to jostle the other out of the way. The mother growled an "enough” in their direction which the pups promptly ignored. Each one of the wannabe mountaineers yet to fully master the art of balancing, resembled an overloaded tractor- trailer, swaying all over the place. 

Their squeals of yips mimicking the noise of the strained engine. The pups out witted and outperformed in this play which was a fun not to be missed. This family entertainment was an out of the world experience for the curious boy and had enjoyed sneak-previews of many such pantomimes.

Though left to the mercy of their environment, the mother’s love for the siblings touched and troubled his heart. She had graciously accepted the hardships and assumed the role of protector and provider, after giving birth to the pups. She had managed to overcome hardships with a harmonious living! 

Many questions puzzled and troubled him. Why has the mother not made any attempt to introduce them to their father? Have they separated to go their own ways, a sort of doggy or dodgy divorce? Or in the world of dogs, is it customary for a mother to live alone with its litter?  Then how to explain what he has witnessed on the streets - dogs congregating, chasing around and some male dogs fiercely trying to protect their female companions? 

Is it the male, in the dog’s fraternity, that is averse to longtime relationship with the mother and the litter of puppies? Why the puppies never evince any interest to meet with their father? With what feelings these pups, awash in affection, would part ways with their mother, when they become adults? Will they recognize each other, when meeting by chance?

This up-close empathy inspired him to try and understand their psyche. With patience, he built up his own vocabulary, based on observations and interpretation of various cues given out by the puppies, namely the positioning of body parts, modulation in sound and different styles in wagging of the tail, among other things. As months rolled by, he became aware that he could actually hear them conversing with each other. Initially, this awareness frightened him but as his friends have not detected anything unusual in him, he decided to ignore this worry.

The flow of time brought many changes for all of them. The open spaces became crowded and the canine population started to migrate towards the meadow. The search for food became harder yet with resolute spirit they adopted to this new reality.  For the pups, the meadow became a haven as it offered many hiding places to play their hide and seek games. 

The curious boy was none other than Imaginch! To continue his education, he moved and stayed with his uncle, in a nearby town. His visits to the village, during holidays or festivals were his only chance to renew his acquaintance with his favourite puppy, which was growing to be strapping adult dog. Imaginch and the dog conversed silently under the shade of the trees in the meadow. After every such meeting, he sensed a in his puppy-dog as if to express its desire to leave the village and explore the world beyond. During these silent exchanges, its siblings cast their concerned looks on them. 

But the puppy-dog let him know that permanently losing contact with him would not happen during its lifetime. During his next visit, after a year, Imaginch got the news he had been expecting all along. The puppy-dog had disappeared without a trace and none of his friend knew its whereabouts. 

A few months later, Imaginch had to appear for a competitive examination, in another and more populous town. Two sessions and after attempting tough question papers, he felt mentally and physically drained. He wanted to do nothing but return home and sleep. He was impatiently waiting in the bus depot for his father to return from an errand. Amidst the bustling crowd, honking of horns and buses arriving and departing, he was lost in thoughts.  But a chance meeting on this day with his favourite puppy-dog, from his village was not one of them. 

He sensed an eerie feeling slowly engulfing him.  Goosebumps started to erupt and hairs on his neck and arms came to attention in parade-style. Surely, someone was watching him with a focused intent. Perturbed, he looked around frantically to locate the person sending that intense stare. He could not. Unable to put up with it any longer, he moved to another spot but the eerie feeling kept growing in intensity instead of diminishing. Another fruitless search also failed to locate the source that was disturbing him. 

Then his eyes brought into focus a well filled out dog (unlimited food from nearby eatery?) with an unwashed coat, watching him.  The barely visible, white band at half the length of its tail looked very familiar and it stirred some old memories. Had he seen this dog before, and if so where and when? Questions kept racing in his mind. 

As if sensing his dilemma, the dog tilted its head slightly to the left and with a gentle sweep cum wagging of the tail, signalled its recognition of him.  After establishing its secure connection, the dog becoming  confident stood up and stretched to its full length. Then it started to walk up to him, while vigorously yelping and wagging its tail, again in a characteristic manner. He noticed that the dog holding its tail high on its right side, was giving him a broad and loose wagging of the tail. This tilted circular motion of the tail reminded him of a helicopter changing its flight orientation. 

This tail wagging performance with a similar song and dance routine, instantly reminded him of the pup in the meadow of his village.  This was exactly what the pup did whenever he came to the meadow. For him the crisis in identifying his puppy- dog ended along with the disappearance of the goose bumps and hairs assuming their natural stance. He was overwhelmed by the dog’s clever thinking in putting up this show to settle his doubts. 

Dormant memories came to life, flooding his mind. At that time, he was just seven years old, and it was after three years of intense friendship. Then came the intermittent absent periods due to his schooling, and a disruption when the puppy pulled a Houdini act. It was by pure chance that his father had insisted and brought him here to take an under 12 competitive examinations. He wanted to know why his puppy-doggy pulled that disappearing act? All in good time, but now his worry was how to convince his father to take the puppy-dog with them? A lot to process and it was a daunting task for him. 

On returning from his work, the father saw his son and a dog wrapped up in an affectionate cloak. He immediately understood the depth of the bonding between them, even after a gap. He understood that the obvious step forward should be to keep them united. He took the decision to relax his ‘no pet in the house rule’. As their bus just got in there, he hastened to ask the conductor, whether he could bring this dog along? 

The conductor looked at the driver and asked, “How should I charge for it, as a passenger or as a luggage?” The driver replied, “As a luggage, of course!”  Then, in doubt the conductor asked, “How can it travel on the roof, as a luggages do?”  The driver replied, “Treat it as a hand luggage and ask him to keep it under the seat” 

Imaginch understood that the puppy-doggy would get a ride. The dog did not understand anything that transpired but was ready to travel with them. A disturbing question arose in the minds of the father and son. Are we doing the right thing? 

Back at home, Imaginch bathed and fed the dog and led it to the meadow. The puppy-doggy carefully surveyed its old stomping ground. It subtly conveyed the message that it was not searching for its mother or siblings. Then it lifted its head and moved it right and left and made motions as if it had seen enough and getting ready to go away from there. 

Imaginch stood stock still. It was a jolt for him to finally understand that his puppy-doggy had no attachment either with the mother or the siblings or the meadow. Maybe, nature’s intention was such that a dog can move along on its own way.  Or is it confiding in him, an urge to explore places other than its birthplace?  

He chided himself for failing to find out what had happened to the mother and the rest of the siblings. Now he understood what the puppy-doggy meant when it conveyed “losing contact with him would not happen during its lifetime.”  

Imaginch felt a ray of hope that they may meet again, somewhere else and soon!

Don’t blame the Ostrich! -312-

ChintaMany was taken aback by surprise to know, that memories from the distant past possessed such a force, to travel through layers piled up over time. He had assumed, that memories were stacked up year wise for storage. The memory that came up by itself was the one that he had acquired, some years ago, out of curiosity. 

In those days, the footpaths were really available to the pedestrians.  But here and there, a flower or fruit seller claimed a spot to peddle their wares. Occasionally, a different type of ware-merchant plied his or her trade. A man with caged parrots and another with a picture of human palm crisscrossing with the roads of destiny. The parrots drew ChintaMany’s attention for a closer look. 

The three parrots were held captive in the cage. For living comfort, the cage had separate entrances and grill doors for safety. This arrangement provided light and ventilation. For entertainment, each parrot-room had a stick or a ring hanging from the roof,  to sit or swing around.  A cup of water and some grains to take care of thirst and hunger. 

The parrots looked through the doors, at whoever was passing by on the road. In front of the cage, the card- reader had a small mat and over that he had spread a few open-ended thick covers, printed with the image of his favourite gods, arranged, in domino style.  Later on in the show, ChintaMany would come to know the purpose of these open-ended covers. The parrot show started, when a passerby came to know what tidings, the parrot would reveal through the cards! 

The passerby paid the going rate and the fortune teller, called cute names to entice one of the parrots to come out and pick a cover that held the forecast. To impress upon the inquirer or to show deliberate disinterest, the parrot took its own sweet time and slowly walked up and down the row, to pick and discard some covers. Finally, to get it over with, it picked up a cover, dropped it near its minder and retreated, not before collecting a few grains as reward for its labour. 

Now, ChintaMany understood the purpose of the open-ended covers. The fortune teller, looked at the deity printed on the cover, spent considerable time on the significance.  Then he slid out a printed card and read it aloud and sold his reading as a divine blessing. The inquirer listened to the purported future, in rapt attention. 

Somehow, the pity ChintaMany had felt for the caged parrots, not being allowed to fly, has triggered the memories from the distant past and made him feel empathy for the Ostrich, a bird unable to fly. A false pretense for the parrots, and a false attribute for the Ostriches! 

The misattribute might not have humoured the Ostrich. But it has immense practical value, if the 'mis' is detached to free the attribute. The following case by case demonstration will prove the point.  

Imagine a terror attack occurring on a foreign soil and a terror outfit claiming responsibility from another country. Now many things happen in the ‘host’ country. It weeps and sniffles, as being itself a victim of terrorism. The much-vaunted Ostrich comes out willingly to help the host country to bury its head in sand and feign ignorance of such terror groups staying, staging and being sponsored on its soil. A soil only of sand! 

If pressed for proof, this country brings out another Ostrich, to proclaim that neither domicile or postal addresses could be found to incarcerate terrorists nor have details of bank accounts to freeze and break their financial spines. This host country is thus a large-scale user of Ostriches. For their head in the sand efforts, this Ostrich rich country gets rewarded by other Ostriches, as the focal point to eradicate terrorism in any form around the world! Begging a pardon from Ostriches and other avians to say, “It pays to be among the flock of the same feather!” 

ChintaMany thought if these pseudo-Ostriches don’t qualify for a Nobel for Peace, who else could be worthier than them? 

The job of the Romanic Ostrich is not yet finished. In fact, it has given birth to a new species- pseudo-ostrich!

Pseudo-ostriches sit in terror fund monitoring task forces, to trace and trap the funding or fund transfer facilitators. The task force picks up courage to threaten and show the red card. Lo and behold, another Ostrich, with financial clout comes forward to extend massive loans to the same nation which does not know the terrorists operating from its soil, weep and bring out a pack of victim cards to play. 

Like the real Ostrich fleeing from danger, the task force flees from the scene. Likewise, this Ostrich with financial clout does not know where the leaked funds would go! With a desert and more to spare, the operator and sponsor nation takes along two more Ostrich heads to collectively bury in the sand. 

The Ostriches that strut around in politics are quite special and can easily fit anywhere and in any venture. They do not bury their heads in sand but in loads of money, earned out of sand. If it appears like a legitimate enterprise, think again. It is by illegal mining. On this la affair sand loot, the other Ostriches involved are the parties that get to share the loot and the people who vote them to power. 

The pseudo-Ostriches managing political parties are unique and try to keep the heads of voters buried in sand forever. Like wild animals migrating en mass in search of food and water, the voters trek to polling stations and elect representatives believing in their promises and honesty. These voting Ostriches at least know, that they have to keep their heads buried in the sand only for a maximum of five years!

The breed of Ostriches managing a party doesn’t bury their heads in introspection. Before and after an election, they let out caged parrots to read the printed cards. Unlike the caged parrot, these pseudo-parrots could read the cards from anywhere in the country. Having done these enough times, these parrots recite the cards by rote. Predictably the parrot readings would be - No level playing field, voters removed from voter rolls, pre-loaded EVM’s, voters ditched them, election was biased and unfair and so on. The party’s representatives were part and parcel of the election process and yet burying their heads, the loser whining foul is a ploy not to read the writing on the wall. 

The real parrot does not know what it tells and these political parrots do not know any other thing to tell! One is caged, the other is bound by loyalty! 

Closer at home, one may be surprised to find pseudo - Ostriches. These bias driven Ostriches strut around blindly, siding with a preferred one, not counting the missteps and not condemning aberrations and condoling indiscretions in loved ones.  They emulate Einstein by inventing different frames of references -one for the family and rest for the others. Preferring a different type of sand to bury their heads, these Ostriches only end in harming the loved ones! 

There is a litigant Ostrich, hanging on to an advocate’s black gown. Buffeted by adjournments, squeezed by the expenses and court appearances, the litigant still believes in winning the case. How long will he keep his head buried in sand? As long as the advocate wants? Only the real Ostrich would know! 

The real Ostrich would not be satisfied if the story about this idiom, in which it has suffered a mis-attribute, is not retold. Burdened with this task, ChintaMany set to work and came up with the following write up. 

The myth of an Ostrich burying its head in the sand, originated in ancient Rome about 2,000 years ago. The Roman naturalist Pliny, the Elder is the likely author. He might have seen the act of Ostriches bending down to tend to their eggs laid in the shallow ground(nest). Seeing it from a distance, he might have erroneously concluded that the ostriches are trying to bury their heads in the sand. Or did he suffer an illusion, there? 

Another possible explanation could be, the "disappearing act among the landscape” performed by an Ostrich. when threatened. It lies on the ground with neck and head stretched out flat, when being stalked by predators, it bends down its heads. From an onlooker’s perspective, the Ostrich appears to be burying its head. The misrepresentation in the idiom comes to light later in this write up, to vindicate Pliny the Elder. 

Thus, the Ostrich burying its head in the sand is from our perspective and the Ostrich does not have anything to do with it, except bending our perspective! Probably, Albert Einstein might have got inspired by this bending of ‘perspective’ to befuddle our minds with space-time curvature! In a sense the Ostrich is unique - no competition and has the exclusive right over this myth, and holding on to it for over 2000 years. 

What is the connection to the real Ostrich? The real Ostriches could come and learn a few more tricks from these pseudo-ostriches, before deciding to bury their heads in sand or bush. 

The afore mentioned human efforts, pales into insignificance compared to the telling, seismic effects this myth has left on generations to come and counting.  The present generation, who bury their heads in sand outstrip, outwit and outrun the Ostrich, with wings that are merely an appendage to this flightless bird! Though humans lack wings, they use imagination as their flight instrument. 

Now, ChintaMany had to undertake some historical tour, to vindicate the Roman naturalist. He might have travelled a lot away from Rome.  He might have seen African, Asia Minor, Somali and other native birds, of the same flightless feathers. He might have come face to face or at least seen them in action, over and again under different settings. 

Then probably, as every writer does, included his observations colloquially, in Latin of course, to describe the foolish act of a person who wishes to bury some things under the rug. Actually, his idiom was “...cum caput et collum in fruticem condidere, totum corpus existimant latentum.”  to mean when they have hidden their head and neck in a bush, and they think the whole body is concealed. He did not mention about sand. Like the Ostrich, Pliny also had suffered a mis-attribute! 

There are flightless birds such as emus, cassowaries, rheas, kiwis, penguins and the Inaccessible Island rails. Why Pliny had singled out the Ostrich? Excluding the smallest Inaccessible Island rail is logical but not the penguin, the next heavy weight in the list. Was Pliny biased to cold-shoulder the penguin by not authoring a suitable idiom? Probably, he thought the Ostrich being the heaviest could shoulder the weight of his idiom. 

This anglicised idiom, depicting the Ostrich burying its head in sand, has an ancient Roman root. Naturalist Pliny, wrote about Ostriches burying their heads in bushes. The myth and the associated idiom, settled in the English language by the 17th century. For some inexplicable reasons, the ‘bush’ got replaced with ‘sand’.  A stupendous feat for this Roman Ostrich to travel nearly 1800 kilometers, to bury its head afresh in the English sand. Left to itself, the Ostrich would have come to England sooner, running at 40 to 70 kmph speed on its long legs! 

Or, did it come all the way by sea and landed on a beach and ashamed of this foolish act, decided to bury its head in the sand that was readily available under its legs? To further vindicate Pliny and help the Ostrich, ChintaMany came up with this explanation for the English version of the idiom! 

ChintaMany wondered, “what made the species of Ostrich to put up with this head in the bush or sand routine?” The answer rang like a bell – out of respect and reverence for Pliny the Elder? 

He had an appeal to make. “Don't single out the Ostrich. The rooster and family have three idioms to their credit. The ducks trail with two idioms. It is a tie between the hapless dead dodo and the nameless flightless bird with a single idiom each.” 

The caged parrot does have a few idioms, verb, phrases or whatever to its credit. "Sick as a parrot” to express extreme disappointment about something. The verb "To parrot” describes the action of repeating exactly what someone else has said, often without understanding the meaning. "Parrot fashion" to describe the art of repeating verbatim, mechanically like a parrot mimicking sound. The metaphor "Parrot on someone's shoulder” describes a person who constantly remind like a nagging conscience. 

All of above can be construed as an “encomium to a parrot” to salute its ability to mimic sounds and words.  A caged parrot does it all, probably directed at the fortune teller, in a live performance! 

At the end, ChintaMany had a brilliant idea for a Nobel Prize in medicine - the scientific research on “breathing and living with head buried in the sand, repeatedly and even on daily basis”. He sardonically thought this could be the honour-citation for the much-maligned Ostriches!