Spider Web.

The Spider manufactures its own fibrous filaments to weave its web! Dress is genetically engineered and during every moulting gets the next size, automatically, though the texture and design remain unchanged. May be the spider is not fashion conscious.

It has a different way of looking at life – food and shelter are inter-related. It is happy if it could manage the food and shelter, even if it is exposed to the elements. One with out the other is not possible in its chosen life style.

The Spider web is almost a 2D shelter without a portico or a roof.  It is adequate – for stay and to gather food. Coming to food, it feasts on what ever insect that comes in to its parlour.  Its philosophy is simple: “yearn for what you can get and earn it for keeps”.

These were not the observations of Robert Bruce. He was preoccupied with a more weighty matter of avenging his defeat and had little time to wonder about the life style of a Spider.

By hindsight, we may probably rue his preoccupation and missing out the honour of being the first person to have chronicled   a Spider’s attempt to build its web.

What all we, the non-arachnophobian's can do now is to hire a time machine and visit the same cave, with out disturbing Robert Bruce’s solitude. Since we may not be as observant, we may have to borrow his visual impressions, on web building.

We must have a lot of patience and plenty of time to take turns and compile notes. We may have to use the time machine to come back to the present now and then – mainly to enrich our notes with relevant modern scientific information on the Spider species. A perfect understanding of the natural instinct of a spider and the techniques of web making may need all this exercise.

Any two planes, separated by a distance of about 10 to 50 Spider strides is a prime locality for the web. May be, the Spider selects such spots either by accident or guided by the scripted DNA information. Extraneous factors such as direction of wind draft and clear approach for insects are probably given equal importance.

The architectural plan is in its mind and readily alters it to suit any prevailing situation, on self approval basis. To bridge the gap between the two planes, it starts weaving a quadrangle (mostly irregular but occasionally includes square, rectangle or trapezoid) shaped stay filaments, for anchoring the web structure that will be completed at a later time.

Initial travel is by a Spider walk, up to the 1st point of the stay line. Here it hangs upside down from the first plane, secreting the chemical for the filament through the spinnerets.

This one journey is beset with many ifs and buts – a gust of wind blowing it off target, failing to apply brake at the right moment or insufficient supply of silky thread through the spinnerets etc;

Doing the free fall, like a sky diver, it prays for a favourable draft or absence of it to reach the end of fall to contact & connect with the second plane. Then travel back, in Army tank fashion, using its own spun dried filament to reach the starting point of the intended irregular, four sided web anchor.

If successful, the Spider starts its acrobatics one more time from a farther distance to play out the second stay wire from the 1st plane to the second. Now two sides for a rough four sided geometrical figure has been drawn with the silky filament.

It is matter of time before the remaining sides are completed. – involves connecting, horizontally, the four anchor points of the two vertical filaments already finished.

By this time the Spider would have spent its day’s energy reserve after making repeated attempts. It might lay-off for the day and go in search of food to replenish its depleted energy.

On paper or in our minds this task looks pretty easy .For the spider it is not so.

It starts the next difficult phase in web building with renewed vigour. Now the Spider’s focus is on connecting the rough geometry with diagonal filaments. Swaying with the wind, aided by gravity, biological secretion and squeeze braking, the Spider painstakingly completes the diagonals one by one. Later from the intersecting point of these diagonals, it builds radial lines with its fiber.  

Many false starts and aborted attempts later, the Spider heaves a sigh of relief after a day’s work of reeling out the thread, with its head and spinnerets spinning, literally.

Imagine for a moment our plight in drawing 2 or 3 dozen diagonals on a paper – where actually we can see the start and end points. Hats off to you spider- for accomplishing this task, almost as planned, without a paper and pencil!

The Spider is now ready to start the most difficult phase of web building. It has to connect the radial/diagonal lines with, ever increasing or decreasing, involute weaving with a single silky thread.

Why this confusion at this stage? Is the Spider getting lost in building web? No. It is only a test for the IQ of the Spider. Some might do it from the top – so the ever decreasing involute is achieved. Some might decide to start from the centre – so the ever increasing involute.

It is like wire-rope walking over Niagara Falls from US side to Canadian side, buffeted by strong winds. No doubt the silky thread is stronger than steel and can support 50 to 60 times its own weight.

But how the poor Spider will know all these scientific facts? We will understand the ordeal if only we would get on to a rope strung between two poles of 6-7 meter height and 15-20 meters apart and go for a walk on it!

We wonder how the hell the Spider is able to draw these involutes without a compass or a scriber. Closer watch reveals the modus operandi - it uses the front legs and hind legs to get on with the work. How enterprising!

The construction starts with discrete arc lengths. It swivels its hind legs in a bigger arc while simultaneously moving its front legs (reference point) in a smaller arc. Thus it completes the first involute. Travelling along the perimeter of this, the Spider completes the second involute and so on till the web is completed.

For decreasing or increasing radii of the involute curve, the procedure followed is the same.  It has to carry out all these activities with out any scaffolding, safety belt or a helmet.

The amount of maneuvering the Spider has to carry out, to complete all the involute curves, is mind boggling and fraught with dangers.

Nature has endowed the Spider with an ocean of patience and it goes about its tasks, whatever may be the impediment. This attitude of it must have struck the right cord in Robert Bruce, who shared the same cave space with the spider. Its perseverance lifted his sagging spirits to score a win over his enemies and established peace in Scotland.

We have now become weary and mentally drained to constantly monitor and update our web-log. We pray that the web master should hasten up and finish the job quickly. For the Spider time has no meaning but it understands only hunger.

Having stayed with the Spider during its construction activity and still left with some curiosity and energy, you may count the diagonal lines (30 to 48) and the number of irregular squares, rectangles, trapezoids and triangles, running into hundreds, it has used to spin its web.

The pity, from the Spider’s point of view, is that it cannot even admire its web from a distance where as you and I can.

At the end, we are as confused as the spider was in the beginning – on a mere technicality. The criss-crossing lines connecting the sides of the irregular quadrilateral – whether they are to be considered as diagonals (decreasing involutes) or radials (increasing involutes)?

We can leave the doubt unresolved as the spider has completed its job.

It is now time for us to come back to the present and settle the hire charges for the time machine. Back home we might pay more attention and try to understand the way of life and survival instincts of   these Spiders.

A Spider must be a frequent re-locator, as we don’t find it in the same location for a long time due to web getting destroyed by natural calamity or internecine wars.

The laziest builder is the house Spider. The web looks like a carelessly thrown net, over a fishing boat. May be it is reminding the way, a majority of us lead our lives – trapped in a maze.

Now, with a Spider’s  mindset, if we look around we will find their webs on garden shrubs, between tree branches, between power lines under a street lamp, the nook and corners of houses and even spanning the walls of a drainage gutter!

If Mr. Sherlock Holms is asked to solve the mystery of the web under power lines or between gutter walls he will draw deeply from his pipe and exhale smoke slowly a few times and then exclaim loudly, “Ahaa.. it is elementary my dear Watson. What an ingenious way to welcome an uninvited insect in to its parlour!”

An Ornithologist studies bird. I, a self styled Arachnologist‎ spent some time observing Spiders. Mixing this amateur study with a bit of history, sci-fi and a lot of confused imagination what did I get?

What I got was what you just finished reading!

A Challenge to Mars: ♂

It was Mr. Giovanni Schiaparelli who set fire to the imagination of people about the Red Planet Mars. He was electrified by what he thought as canals by trusting eye-sight and telescope; he kicked up a sand storm here on earth.

Mr. Mars had an ace up his sleeve. For a long time he was yearning to get closer to Miss. Earth, his nearest neighbour. All he was interested was to develop a platonic relationship.

To that end he decided to play upon the prying eyes of the astronomer – he let him to wrongly conclude, an optical illusion, as canal system and wilfully hid his stormy side from the astronomer’s field of vision. He did not want the astronomer to scare Miss. Earth.

From that moment on, for a considerable period of time, people on Earth went in to tizzy, imagining that canal like structures definitely meant flowing water and irrigated fields. The notion of a Martian civilization came to stay - UFOs helped to paint the Martians as a well-advanced and intelligent community. Sci-Fi spin doctors helped with scripts adaptable for a Hollywood, big ticket animation movies.

Scientific investigations – earth based observations, flyby space craft, Lander missions (Viking, Mariner) gathered Mar’s bio-data from all possible angles & distances. Later on, cocooned rovers (Spirit, Opportunity & Curiosity) landed on your soil and emerged like chicks from shells, to peer at the scenery.

Getting down to business, they roamed, dug and analysed to stream a wealth of electronic data, spanning the chasm of about 100 million kilometres. Mr. Mars, you mutely stood exposed – on your platonic nonsense. Miss Earth had ideas of her own!

She did not mind spending billions of dollars to get gigabytes on your extinct volcanoes, plains, valleys, dried water courses, carbon-di-oxide rich, oxygen starved atmosphere and radiation hazards. You failed to grasp the significance – she was eyeing on your real estate and minerals.

Before all these could happen, Mr. Mars had managed a spot in Myths and Astrology. Myths depicted him as an aggressive planet and Astrology as an inimical influence in affairs of matrimony.

Retracing his orbital positions, during the wars waged by Greek, Roman, Mongol empires and in later centuries at the times of WW1, WW2 and other local aggressions - might yield proof, of involvement of Mr. Mars or otherwise.

A similar exercise might be carried out to compile data on matrimonial discords & divorces to confirm, whether Mr. Mars was interfering in the marital bliss of Earthling.

At the end it might turn out to be apparent that mere emotional linking had caused all these unsolicited attention on Mr. Mars and painted him RED. Miss Earth and the majority of her children have begun to see red every where.

Mr. Mars, take heart. The modern scientific community, which does not go by colour alone, is out to rescue you from all these ill attributes. They have painstakingly gathered evidence to point out close similarities - your polar axial tilt is 24ºand Earth’s is 23.4º.

Your day is  24h 37m long and Earth is not far behind at 23 h 56m; you have the largest volcano, Olympus Mon ( see the  help coming over) – 600 km wide & 25 km high – none to  rival in the Solar system!

The highest Himalayan peak is a poor second, that too at a distance, standing humbled at 8800 and meters. How long the second place will be held might be agitating in the snow caps of Himalayas!

Your canyon system, Valles marineris, is 4000 km long and with an average depth of 6 km.  Here you get only a second place , depth wise – The mariana trench  in the pacific ocean is about 11 Km deep. Miss Earth has no competition to boast, on the length front!

Mr. Mars, you have frozen ice caps at N and S poles – carbon-di-oxide, ice water. Earth can only boast of frozen ice.

You have preserved your stock of Iron and we are depleting our stock fast. You see now the ‘you win some and loose some’ situation for both of us are in!

The lure of wealth, lying in wait, has hit the nerve buttons here on Earth. Mr. Mars you must have spent some time in studying our ‘ardh sastra’ for a primer on how to deal with kingdoms and rulers.

Like a humble peasant, you allowed the space giants to send in spacecrafts flying-by and snoop. You remained a mute spectator, blinded by platonic overtones, when Landers touched down. They ferreted out some more of your secrets. Slowly, you were becoming an open book.

Without realizing what was happening, you, like a simpleton, let mini rovers (Spirit & Opportunity) and car sized Curiosity to roam around probing & poking. You, Mr. Mars,, so enchanted  by the charm of Miss Earth - did not bother  to have a  immigration control & passport, visa regime in place to check alien crafts landing at will. Don’t you try to sneak in like this and it will be a bloody murder in our terms.

Beware of the Blue planet and Earthmen. After making the Earth Red, they will come, to Mars. All these scientific missions are with an ulterior motive – the human race wants another earth-like planet, to colonize and flourish for over hundreds of years.

Your loud question is – what happens afterwards? Another nearby planet will get the honor of being colonized, leaving you bleeding red.

Mr. Mars, you are not living up to your reputation of – an aggressor. However hard you tried and we, the scientific community tried, the stigma stuck.

Now, you don’t curse Mr. Giovanni Schiaparelli for having set his eyes upon first and then introducing you to us.

We mean business. All those freebie ads you got in our media are being cashed in now. The writing is on the wall. If you don’t co-operate with us, we will de-orbit –Phobos & Diemos, and make them to keep company with our Moon as a starter.

Our tycoons are waiting for a bright guy to come up with a patented process to convert the red dust to gold. May be a biologist here on Earth is already ready with a bacteria that thrives on red dust- a bacterial colony is all we want to establish first and then make Mars our holiday resort.
The competition is hotting up with India also sending a probe to say hello to you.

We, the Earthling do believe in preparing the ground well in advance. We have plans to speed up your axial rotation to bring the length of Martian day   on par with ours. In the bargain you will make a little profit on your gravitational account.

We will let loose sub-zero thriving bacterium at the Poles. They will happily consume carbon dioxide and release oxygen..Plants from our Arctic tundra and Antarctica will sprout and aid releasing more oxygen and help in green cover.

We will send you a bucket of water – drink it to swallow your indignation.

Cheer up Mr. Mars- after all we are close neighbors in the solar system, is it not?

A Day of the Dog.

A stray dog is a common sight in any street of any locality in our country. The stray dogs are orphans of the town or city and are socially worst placed - in comparison with the pet dogs. Pet dogs enjoy the best of life – food, shelter, health, security and affection.

Pet dogs have personalized names. The stray dog has none and can only envy and convey its displeasure by yelping and barking at the sight of a pet dog.

The pet dog might be one of an Alsatian Bull dog, a Dachshund, a Greyhound, a Labrador, a poodle, a Pekingese, a Pomeranian, a Spaniel, a Dalmatian, a Scotch terrier or a native cross-bred depending on, the affluence of the neighbourhood. Nobody bothers to maintain a genetic account for a mongrel.

As we walk out of our houses, we are bound to meet at least one stray dog on the street. It will be, either lazing on the road or playing the game of “catch my tail if I can” or sport a doleful look, at the world. Pays scant respect as we pass by.

Down the street we may see three or four dogs engaged in “I chase, you run” physical fitness regime. They don’t bother with your presence and simply skirt around to continue the drill, as long as there is no threat perception.

Sometimes, during the drill, they pause now and then to sniff, jostle and lick each other to exchange interesting titbits about the neighbourhood.

A street dog knows its precincts well – the garbage bins, a house hold offering morsels of leftovers or a tea-shop where crumbs of biscuits are shared by the customers.

The stray dog is street smart, knows the art of survival and if required rises to the occasion to defend its territorial sovereignty. A stranger in the street or a stray dog from another ‘stray dogdom’ is not looked upon kindly.

The moment a trespass is noticed, one of the dogs raises the alarm and other street dogs rush in to the conflict zone - from nearby lanes and streets. That single dog’s call is like the sounding of a conch shell to signal the start of war, in ancient times.

They gang up, growl, snarl and bark menacingly at the intruder to the locality – growl and snarl as accompaniments to the bark. The facial expression of barred teeth, salivating mouth, stance and sparring reveals the degree of frenzy.  The pitch rises to feverish levels depending on the mood of the pack and the attitude of the intruder.

The intruding stray dog, if weak, stands its ground for a few barks, changes vocal gears to emit growls and the while withdrawing slowly from the scene of conflict and the local pack. Accepting de facto defeat, it runs away into another lane or by-lane.

If little stronger, the barking and growling match goes on for some time. Running out of steam, then it does a volte face in one of these ways – (1) beware of a possible chase up to the end of the street, it gradually lowers pitch, shifts ground and keeping its tail tucked in between the legs crosses over to the neutral territory. (2) To end the dispute quickly, turns turtle on the ground, raises its legs skyward, in abject surrender. (3) Puts up with some sporadic barking from the defenders and waits for them to loose interest in further discussions.

If the intruding dog is a daredevil, it matches bark for bark, growl for growl all the while aping the facial expressions of the defending pack. In this way it presents its view on the territorial dispute, justifying its right to trespass.

The din - they are not trained or expert singers, raised by male and female barkers continue to reverberate for some time. Unable to bear with the noise, a passer-by takes matters in to his hands, throws a stick or a stone at the howling pack.

Like an anchor of a 24 X 7 TV news channel announcing a short commercial break, the lead singer cum conductor of the orchestra, freezes the baton in mid-air and the barking stops.

Accustomed to stereo music, the human beings might find the chorus of the dogs - a little harsh on the ear drums. But these dogs care a wag for this human discomfort as they have an axe to grind- they are not cared for and why they should do so. Besides this apathy, these human beings made use of every available opportunity to shoo them out of vicinity.

The stray dogs have a feeling that they are a misunderstood lot. Whenever they get close to a human being, it is only as a ‘dogwill’ gesture to extend a paw in friendship. Sniffing or licking is the mode of communicating their desire, to the humans. They are anguished when the humans give the cold shoulder, due to fear of dog bites and rabies.

If they only could speak, they might have conveyed as much, to any one afraid of their friendly approaches. They wonder why the human beings do not put faith by their own adages “barking dogs don’t bite”.

Probably, in every assembly they might be discussing this matter of mistrust agitatedly. They might feel let down by the Creator - for not willing to reach the last mile and endow them with   the faculty of speech.

Then it might have been easier for them, like politicians, to counter the adage “barking dogs don’t bite”, in case one of their clan violates the saying and actually approaches with an intent to cause harm, by simply saying “I misunderstood it” or “I misinterpreted it” or “I  was misunderstood”

Alas! No one interviews them and they doubt, even if, any body gives a damn to a dog’s view. They are resigned to the fate of ‘dog days’ and ‘dog wars’.

The human beings in turn have an appeal to make to the Creator – provide us with a means to communicate with the stray dog that its bite is painful and needs visits to a doctor, not the veterinary kind.

At the end of the day, the street dog lies down in its favourite corner.  It pauses briefly to take pity on the well cared for pet dogs, who are kept chained almost for 24 x 7,let free inside the compound walls during nights and taken out for fresh air & to take care of the nature’s calls. In comparison it is placed in a better position – unlimited independence.

As the night wears on, the out look changes –about the shooing humanity and the pet dogs. It starts to bark loudly to announce and alert the sleeping house holds that a stranger has just entered the street – self appointed security patrol. It does it for its own safety or out of love for the uncaring humanity is a mute point amidst the cacophony that is sure to follow soon.

Here a word about the loyalty of the canines, pet or otherwise, has to be mentioned – not even a single bark goes unanswered. They raise their collective barks in unison while performing the duties of a sentry.

To show that they have nothing personal against the street dog, the pet dogs also join the chorus, echoing the warning sounded by the street dog. This symphony orchestra plays on till such time some one comes out and investigates the cause of the commotion.

When everything is back to normal, the street dog and the pet dogs resume their interrupted slumbers to get ready for another of those dog days.

Dogg the walk.

The pet dog is clever to fully utilize the opportunities presented. Pavlov used lab animals to condition their responses to a set of induced stimuli. Disagreeing with this biased approach, the pet dog decided to present the other side of the coin (Rouble?). It managed to prove the same results on human beings (owners and their children) – with great effects!

The proud owners of a pet dog like to impress the invited or unexpected visitors with the tricks their pet is capable of performing. Both the owners and the pet have really sweated it out – owners trying to teach the dog and the pet trying to condition them.

The conditioning exercise starts like this. The pet, sensing the importance, chooses such occasions to be defiant, eyeing the tray full of cookies and savouries.

Under the Canine pressure, the owner feeds the eatables expecting a better compliance – as a face saving measure in the presence of a visitor.

In this Satyagraha, the tenacity with which the dog had tried, and failed in many such attempts, to condition the reflex of its master or Mistress deserves kudos.

It does this easily with the children as they are easy subjects to condition.  Any way they don’t like what the parents give to them as snacks, most of the times. As far as the dog is concerned, that is a rich feasting ground.Net result – slowly and steadily the pet dog begins to put on weight.

This is self defeating as the original intent of the owners was to take the dog out for a stroll – to fight their own weighty issues. They needed the dog as an excuse.

But the dog, probably, not wanting to appear as the odd man out, has also succeeded in the competition by putting on extra weight. Now it is not shy to walk out either with the Master, with a solid pot belly, or with the Mistress saddled with avoidable fatty layers.

The duo or the trio (on rare occasions), walking down the lane, presents an eyeful – the man pushing the air waves away with his pot belly and the woman creating a sonic wave of huffs & puffs.

This scene becomes more comical – when the man and the woman, suffering spondylitis choose to wear the collar band and are accompanied by the pet with its own dog collar!

The pet dog enjoys unlimited affection and a rationed freedom, as a matter fact a prisoner in its own doghouse. A parole in the morning and possibly one in the evening is all what it gets, provided the owners are not out of station or it is not a rainy day. Like a lathi wielding policeman, they carry a stick to keep street dogs at bay.

The morning parole is spent in walking a few hundred meters, leading or trailing the Master – the Master to complete his exercise and the pet to attend to it's nature’s call.

The predicament of the Master at this time - standing guard, seeing and unseeing is a sight in itself or is he becoming self conscious to turn out in knickers, pushing sixties or seventies? A comedy of sorts for the onlooker.

The pet dog gets to walk a few meters during evening parole, leading or trailing the Mistress. It gets to hear plenty of neighbourhood gossip and little exercise.

One thing that is impressive about the pet dog is its name – Caesar, Tommy, Jimmy, Jackie, Tuffy, Lucy and the like.

Most often a pet dog, furious and all business, as a pup, grows into a timid creature, even afraid of its own shadow. Instead of being a protector more often it needs protection. How many of us had to pacify our pet during a rainy night filled with thunders and lightening?

The following might appear to be exaggerated a bit, but this is a true incident.

This happened during a morning walk. The master and the pet embarked on a walk, with a poor dead stick in the master’s hand.

The dog was leading for some time, then trotted alongside for some time and was trailing behind for some time, with the Master holding the reins.

This positioning depended on the presence of stray dogs in the street. May be it did not have such faith in its Master’s ability to shoo away the stray dogs, which always show an unusual interest in their procession.

A push cart loaded with vegetables was parked on one side of the road. Just about a meter from it, an overgrown bandicoot decided to scoot up to the middle of the road and planned to take a rest from the exertion.

With its canine sense, the pet smelt the presence and started taking evasive measures. Slowly it reduced pace, moved near the persona of the Master deciding to avoid a close encounter, with the stalled bandicoot. Finally it trailed behind its master.

Finally, it dug in its paws and applied the break. The Master did not even sense the tension on the dog’s chain or the resting bandicoot on the road.

The bandicoot held its further moves close to its rasping chest. That was enough of a morning walk and the pet decided to take matters in its own hand. It simply squat its bulk on the road forcing the Master to stop.

The Master then saw the object of his pet’s mortal fear. He looked around to see if anybody else will try to do something about the traffic jam. Vainly he tapped the stick on the road a few times.

The bandicoot cared a hoot and continued its squatting. Loosing patience and looking at his watch, the Master decided it was enough and getting late for the office.

He gave the signal for a U turn and the pet dog happily led him back home, all the way, sniping at a kitten and feigning at a scurrying squirrel. The Master, in his anxiety to get home for the ritual cup of coffee, failed to notice the lightning speed with which the dog obeyed his command with out whimpering.

This makes us wonder ‘Who got the best of whom’.

Chow chow 12062103

China announced the launch of SHENZHOU -10, with a mixed crew of three. This was a technology forerunner for future Lunar Missions and the news item held me riveted to the paper.

Absorbing the essential details, I moved to the second paragraph. It was then; I heard a heavy crash of falling objects. I was sitting in the garden (or so I would like to call define our flower potted plants) and without the aid of radar or sonar, was able to pin point the epicentre of the din – our kitchen.

With trepidation, I ventured in to the war field. The kitchen floor was littered with vegetables, jars, utensils, plates and a gluey looking syrupy material.

The field commander was a sight to behold. Face covered with the same gluey syrup, seemed like a facial. To add colour to it, some bits of “sliced”   vegetables were stuck in the glue.

Suppressing my laughter, I gingerly stepped inside our home. Ours was a small flat and the size of the kitchen was a fraction of the common area, which we failed to note earlier in the blue print. A Himalayan blunder.

The kitchen was as cramped as the command module of Mercury, Gemini and Apollo missions. To walk in and come out needed the navigating skills of those astronauts.

This did not deter my wife, from stocking the kitchen shelves and unutilized floor space with kitchen wares, gadgets and provisions rivalling a Mall.

In this constrained capsule, she moved around like a pirouetting ballerina. I never stopped wondering how my wife could do it time and again with an accuracy of a few millimetres to avoid collision.

I recall with shame the only time when I hurriedly entered the kitchen and came running out, at the sound of falling objects. It was like an asteroid shower, sans the light.

Grinding, mixing, washing and cutting vegetables, draining and sieving, frying and boiling goes on parallely.

In between the milliseconds, she would rinse a cup, dry a plate. If time permits, even make a cup of coffee or a phone call – this is multi-tasking of the highest order.

All these jugglery's must have emboldened her to cut a corner or two with her kitchen mates – provided it was nothing to do with electricity. She obeys the laws of electricity in Toto.

To her, the gadgets/machines are animate and affectionately named. Grinder is vortexer, mixie is tornado, washing machine is whirligig, ceiling fan is whirly blade and the air-conditioner is thermion .How and why ‘a mystery remains’.

I have even doubted if she actually converses with them in a special machine language?

Each kitchen mate had a weekly off and the planned menu involved no overtime for any. The only exception she applied was, on off duty day such a kitchen mate should serve in non-active capacities. Yup, she ruled the kitchen - military style.

She must have some scientific streak running in her genes; liked to challenge, particularly the laws of gravitation, in her domain.

Idly is traditionally made from a batter-mix of rice and urad dal. I am an anti-traditionalist. I take the actual batter and mix it with vegetables, noodle, vermicelli, flour or any other thing I could lay my hands on. I relish and to whoever happens to be nearby, serve it as a petite dish.

This trait of mine must have appealed to her or gave her a chance to get even with me. Secretly she had planned a new and unheard variety of sweet. She knows pretty well that I crave for sweets at around midnight when everybody is asleep.

She decided to try out a new sweet dish, may be to surprise me on my birth day. What she did not know was that our daughter had already spilled the beans to me.

Our daughter had guessed the intention and the intended guinea pig, from the unusual quantities of certain vegetables disliked by both of us.

I was unaware at that time that I would indirectly contribute to the mess in the kitchen. My wife chose the day on which the grinder enjoyed a weekly holiday and this laid the foundation for the unfolding story.

That day was the weekly off for the grinder and the mixer jar had no suitable lid .It was broken and the shop wallah told me to replace the jar itself. It was still under my active consideration.

She decided to go ahead anyway. She seated the mixer on the grinder top, at an angle, wedged it with a table spoon.

The grinder itself was not on terra firma but on top of bag of rice packed in a polythene sack. She found a one side closed cylindrical, shallow vessel to use as the lid for the jar – just for that one time.

Starting the mixer, she moved over to the gas range to turn the burner to “sim”, she was multitasking as usual; this time it was using the mixer and cooking vegetables, all in the mill-metric free space.

She then held the makeshift lid tightly for some time and turned over to the vegetables that were being fried. After checking the lid position on the jar, did some draining of boiled vegetables. Once again, conscious of the temporary lid on the jar, she spent a little time near the mixer.

Satisfied that the jar-lid combo was doing fine, she turned the burner to full and completed frying of vegetables. As she was about to switch off the burner, all hell broke loose and of course the sound effect brought me scurrying in to the house.

The surprise sweet recipe (diced chow chow, snake gourd, mint leaves, a sprinkling of flour and fried semolina) must have literally jumped the jar, dislodging the cover plate on the mixer. It must have looked a volcano spewing molten lava.

The series of vibrations, linear and lateral motions that caused the mess must have reminded her of a Tom & Jerry caper.

The grinder slid from the rice sack (holiday or no holiday) and took the mixer and the power cable along for company.

Together, gathering strength, they took a passing shot at the plastic tub holding washed kitchen utensils. Empty vessels make more noise, you know, and they just did that.

It is needless to say that the floor of the kitchen looked like a battle field. The casualty was the new never heard/never tasted variety sweet. The making of the surprise sweet turned out to be a surprise of a different kind.

I woke up with a start, when my wife nudged me with a cup of hot herbal tea. Realisation, then struck me – I had dozed off, after reading about the woman astronauts in space.

This must have launched my imagination, simultaneously, putting my wife in to a capsule like our kitchen, and narrating to myself those fictitious happenings.

When I recounted the dream, she had only this to say: “Finish your tea and then have your bath. You have started to dream in the mornings too”.

She hurried in to the house and I followed suit wondering whether my imagination will come true one day!

The Doubting Tom.

When you meet somebody, you get to talk about things of interest. It might be yours or his. Many will calmly listen to your view point and will not show agreement or disagreement.

Some vehemently, counter the points made by you. The odd ones demand substantiating proof for every word you use. This is a difficult person to handle and satisfy with your arguments. He is Mr. Doubting Tom.

If you happen to stand behind him in a railway ticket booking counter, the conversation with the ticketer might go like this:

The ticket states 'I am wait-listed' and you say it will surely get confirmed. How sure you are?

The ticketer replies, “Normally, up to this number tickets get confirmed. You need not worry sir”

Mr. Tom has questions. He wants to know what will happen if I am not lucky?

Exasperated the ticketer says, “You can cancel your un-confirmed ticket, sir”

Next time, you chance upon him in an electronics goods shop- the conversation between him and the salesman will be most likely, like this:

Here the guarantee card says that the defective components will be replaced. Now my question is whether the replacement will be with a newer component or with a used component from another device?

The salesman mumbles that the replacement will be with a newer component.

Not satisfied with the answer, Mr. Tom asks, how are you so sure, you will not be personally present at that time of replacing the component in my device?

The tongue tied salesman quietly withdraws to serve another customer.

Another unplanned encounter happens in a fruit market. As usual Mr. Tom has probing questions and remembering your earlier encounters, you instantly decide to side with the vendor on whatever questions Mr. Tom might pose.

The vendor says, this basket of fruit is fresh and tastes superb. Tom jumps into the fray, asking how the vendor can certify the taste. Did he actually taste one from the basket shown to him?

Vendor’s meek reply did not satisfy him. Changing his choice Mr. Tom wanted to know the cost of another variety of fruit. Bitten shy by the earlier sting, the vendor says, “Sir this fruit is supposed to taste equally good”

Mr. Tom asked, why the vendor did not say that this basket of fruit also is from a fresh supply. The vendor cursed himself for not having added that statement to this basket of fruit also.

For an unknown reason, Mr. Tom decided to buy a different kind of fruit at the asking rate itself, without haggling. This surprised the vendor as well as you.

The anger in “you” has been waiting to vent out on Mr. Tom. The moment the cash was exchanged and the fruit basket changed hands, the volcano of anger burst out.

You stopped the vendor from pocketing the money and asked him,” How do you know that this currency notes are genuine?”

You asked Mr. Tom, “Why are buying this basket of fruit without tasting one and how do you know this is a fresh stock?”

The vendor afraid of loosing business stares at you.  Mr. Tom, taken aback by well directed questions thought he has met his match.

Mr. Doubting Tom walks away; the vendor readies himself to attend on another, yet-to-come customer. You simply go about visiting other stalls in search of the kind of fruits you came to buy.

A fleeting thought occurs and you wonder “Why did I not do it earlier at the ticket counter or in the electronics goods shop itself?”