Little Typhoon in the kennel.

The little Typhoon and the new arrival did not go well together – she was afraid of the puppy and in equal measure the puppy reciprocated the same feeling. She maintained a more than an adequate ‘snapping’ distance and it just closed its eyes as if to wish away her presence, after retreating to a safe corner. The whole affair was based on the Little Typhoon’s misunderstanding of the intention of the dog, a she-puppy. The puppy, rudely separated from its mother was only trying to strike a friendship in trying to come over its melancholy and longing to see its mother. It felt abandoned when its mother did not come searching for her and was sad that the members in the household were not cuddling or fondling her with affection. She even tried to call attention by whimpering or whining – the result was same, inaction and apathy.

As the dog days passed, the pup started taking tours of the front porch, the cluttered space beneath the stair case designated as her kennel or when extremely bored, she just climbed one or two steps on the staircase and simply slept there. Having nothing worthwhile to do (lazy to swat  flies, snap at squirrels or cats) nor any body bothering to teach her ‘sit”, ‘stand’ or ‘shake hand’ the puppy started spending more time on the steps, to loll and doze. Occasionally she took great pleasure in playing with the empty food bowl or bowl filled with water.  The only time she enjoyed human nearness.

The step became the lying-in-wait trouble spot for me and the Little Typhoon. She had to use the stairs to meet me and whenever an attempt was made, the puppy eagerly advanced to meet her half-way. Misunderstanding the gesture of friendship as aggressive posturing, Little Typhoon lets out a shriek shaking the very foundation of the building. Hurrying down, I rescue her by pulling away the dog by its scruff. The same drama had to be repeated, in the reverse trip down the steps. Both of us got a little exercise in the bargain – my legs and her vocal cords. Whatever tricks I tried, she chose to retain her canine phobia.

Slowly and ever slowly, shedding innocence she had started asserting her own way with things – animals and objects. Questioning, grasping the phenomenon explained and coming up with ‘out of box logic’ (her version of what she wanted to say). To put it in a nut shell - the sessions were, A to Z of entertainment. Ever looking for an opportunity to teach some thing more or difficult, for her age, I took her through the process of single digit, double digit or three digit additions of numerals. For a kid of about three years, when we met, the learning curve was on a supersonic flight.

Little Typhoon understood the significance of ‘zero’ placed before a number or after a number, - with out realising the trouble I was going to get in to - at a future date. This hind sight of mine is troubling you, is it not? Bear with me for a while; you will come to know the story.

Might be coincidence or not – the puppy, started acting as bridge in developing our friendship – on a build, operate and transfer basis. Who needed the friendship is beside the point and the passing years proved it to be mutually beneficial.

Typhoon climbed a rung in her academic ladder (1st standard) and by this time the puppy had grown into a dog stature. Little Typhoon slowly got used to the hulking doggy and understood that their pet dog does not even care to bark at strangers leave alone biting one. With this new found revelation, she started doing callisthenics (bending and hopping) in around the vicinity of the dog which continued to watch with out taking any active part – needless to say the dog as more inertia now! The dog’s exercise was limited to carrying the weight of the metal leash around her neck and shifting physically from one location to another for resting. She had never enjoyed the joy of catching a fly, snapping at butterflies or chasing a squirrel or a sparrow.

For once the members of the household showed a little concern for the doggy - to find a male suitor for her and allow her to attain motherhood. Word of mouth spread and on one fine day a kennel owner came forward to offer assistance. His condition was that he has to personally visit and assess the worthiness of the she-dog before admitting her in to his kennel. The girth impressed him and he finalised the affair – the fee shall be one male and one female pups.  I still could not understand how he was so sure that there would be enough new born puppies to leave some for the doggy – might be a clairvoyant!  In due course the she-dog gave birth to 3 male and 4 female puppies.

The birth of the puppies itself was accidentally noticed by the maid servant after seeing a mass of puppies lying beside the doggy. Loosing her faith on the members of the household, she had simply gone ahead and delivered with out even a whimper. The kennel owner took over the task of bringing up the puppies in the right way till they opened their eyes and are able to manage themselves. Diet instructions were handed over in writing after each visit as if he was a medical doctor on house calls. He had his investment to take care of and that he did with out any reservation. The instructions remained stuck on the fridge, gathering dust.

Little Typhoon understood the business end of the deal only after some time and felt sorry for the pack of dogs. By that time she had started to cuddle and fondle the puppies in her spare time (read morning to evenings on holidays and whenever possible on school days). Becoming more confident, she now took it up on herself to teach them whatever she had learnt in school that day. She had eight confused students to cope up with. Most of her students were teetering and swaggering on the porch floor, yet to open their eyes in full, to get a dog’s eye view of their teacher!

Little Typhoon continued her coaching efforts. Every free hour, she sat in front of her pupils with a slate and chalk piece .She wrote a number, said it aloud a few times and not getting any where, wrote the same on the floor. ‘Bigger letters are easier to recognise’ she might have thought. But her pupils were not that keen to say yes or no (1+7) for the shown numeral ‘7’

The she-dog might have forgotten her motherly instincts- too much of negligence and inertia had made her uncaring for the life in this world, chained to a leash. In sleep she turned her bulk over, on one of the puppies and smothered it to death. No whimper over the child lost! The driver of the household made the discovery and buried the dead. The litter came down to two males and four females. Like their mother, the puppies also did not make a sound at meal time. Little Typhoon’s class strength came down to 7 (just 1+6) and was attempting to teach them ‘6’.

Next week, one more of the puppies bid goodbye- death due to starvation, a she-puppy (1+2 +3).

Seeing their plight, the car driver wanted to at least rear one of them but the request was turned down. Undaunted the class teacher spared no efforts to make them familiar with the numeral ‘5’, written on the floor. Neither the she-dog nor the Little Typhoon could understand how such a count-down thing could happen?

The schooling for kennel population went on for some more time with a steady attendance- the puppies simply refused to attend the call of death. The numeral ‘5’ was found written every where- on the floor, steps and even on the walls.

This part of the story I was not aware of, as the subject of dog or the puppies never came up in our discussions – quite unusual! Not only the pack but I have also misunderstood the significance of the numerals, in the descending order. I have been seeing them but not taking note of them.

The kid with whom I had a reasonable rapport has suddenly started to speak in a foreign tongue. I had been away for nearly two months and a lot of things must have happened, including the frequency difference, along with her thinking process.

Again, I had the same feeling (call it hind sight, once more!) -the doggy and her puppies are going to trouble me one day or the other. Little did I realise that, ‘that’ some day will be one day in the next few days?

In a breathless voice she asked ‘why they are not learning and how many times do I have to teach’. Was this a question or a statement? I was confused. Gently I asked her to tell me the matter. Instead of answering me she again repeated the same thing but added ’I am disappointed and getting irritated. ‘No’ answer is the right answer; unless it is right.’ Still not knowing on whom and over what, I told her unless you tell me the whole story, how can I help.

For the first time, she narrated her teaching experience in the kennel and informed about the subjects troubling her. Then the significance of the descending numerals struck me like a truncheon. What eluded me was the way - she was teaching them the numerals, in the descending order!. She explained,” When 7 puppies were there I wanted them to point out the number 7 on the floor; one puppy died and I wrote number 6 on the wall; then one more died and the number to be recognised was 5. Yesterday, the dog-man had come and took two and when I wrote 3 on the floor they just kept looking at me. Will you not get upset if they do like this?”

That little head had these many numerical problems to workout. How to convince her that dogs don’t count!

Based on a quick head count and subsequent deductions, I found that she had not included the she-dog in her reckoning of numbers. Using this opening, I asked her why she had not included the puppies’ mother in counting. I was quietly bemused as confusing thoughts rushed through her mind.

She told me the story heard from her grandmother of ignorant chela's. ‘The guru and his six chela's were trying to cross a river. To keep them thinking and to test them, the guru asked a question. He wanted to know how many of them are travelling together. Each one of his chela's replied ‘six’. Each had omitted to count himself and came to the wrong conclusion’.

Little Typhoon told me ‘the pack in the kennel might be like the chela's. Not to be surprised, I myself taught them to count one number less than the actual’. She demanded to know “why they are not saying anything?” .A brilliant performance to cover up her failure.

Having understood that two of the puppies will soon find themselves in a new kennel, I said,    ”May be the she-dog and the puppies know this. They appeared to be more intelligent than the chela's, in not rushing in with a wrong answer.”

To soften the effect of her failed attempts, I asked, “Why bother so much? Her matter of fact reply revealed her current state of mind – “I am still bothered because she cannot count”

Somehow she got convinced by my counselling and left saying “I will start the classes afresh, when everything has settled down”

Poor dog and the left over puppies! They didn't know what was in store for them.

The Tree Stumps.

Introduction: The talk of animal and bird being understood by humans is a well known fact. Unable to come to terms with its pathetic living condition, the tree stump opened up its heart and oozed out its anguish and anger to me, as I just happened to stand by its side for a while. By the end the tree stump itself aired its anger to me.


A lone stump of a tree went begging for attention of the passer-by. It did not understand the hurry with which men and machines moved around, from somewhere to nowhere. Even its constant companions-the footpath and the black top, preferred to ignore the tapas it was performing for a long, long time.

Long long ago this stump was a majestic tree, spreading its branches thick and wide. It had willingly allowed many birds and creatures to roost and rule, all the while enjoying their company like   permissible grandparents.

The tapas started when a batch of men came armed with saws, axes and sickles – not to rest under its shade but to gnaw, chip and dismember it, limb by limb, till only a stump of the trunk was left above the ground. Agony apart, it could not understand the heartless attitude of the humans in leaving a mutilated stump and rendering the birds and creatures as victims of their whims. This was an exhibition of cruelty in its crudest form.

Once up on a time, it had witnessed a similar tree trunk being used as a butcher’s block. By that, it was saddened as customers who came in for a choice cut of meat showed no sympathy either for the slaughtered animal or at the tree stump.

Today, in comparison, it felt a little happier at the thought of still standing on its own rooted-feet! Misplaced loyalty of roots to its master?

The shimmering heat wave above the black top brought back a flood of memories of its bygone era. Over hanging branches with dark green leaves providing shade to anyone wanting it, playing host to a variety of birds, squirrels and insects. It extended the cover of shade over the footpath and part of the road, unselfishly. It followed seasonal changes –shedding leaves, sprouting new ones, flowering and bearing fruits. What a fulfilling experience! Its present status was that of a prince becoming a pauper.

It paid the penalty for its luxuriant growth– the men with axes came with an infrastructure development initiative. The tree was left standing as a stump on the footpath.

Overcome with the enormity of the misfortune it had endured, the tree started saying, “standing or sitting, I have never encroached upon any one’ land. I served to keep the life in living beings by pumping out oxygen and sponging in carbon-di-oxide, in day time.”

“Did I ever ask for any favour? No. Not even a bucket of water or a handful of nutrients even when I was short on nutrition”

“Then why this cruel punishment is inflicted on me and why am I left standing-still to do the penance for a sin not committed?

After this outburst, the stump appeared a little upset and withdrew into aloofness. My heart filled up with sorrow. The lazy walk, on that Sunday evening, turned out to be a revelation.

The stump had seen a progression of special days – ocean day, climate day, mother’s day etc.. Its only disappointment was that along with the earth day why nobody thought of celebrating a tree stump day. I did not have any answer (for its anguish) except feeling shame of my child hood days when playfully I had broken branches, uprooted saplings or trampled up on green grass. My guilt now, will it pacify its anguish?

The stump only has to answer this!

The Speaker strikes back.

There is a limit, even to the boundary of the Universe. To keep a life line open, the wise men qualify the above statement with a rider – the visible Universe. This allows one to postulate the existence of an invisible and inaudible Universe. Such an oasis in the Universe will be welcome to two classes of people on earth: the scammer's opting for invisibility and the decibel haters shutting themselves in inaudibility.

Who are the decibel haters?

In a country where freedom is enjoyed with out responsibility, a portion of the public or the so called common man will be a likely candidate for membership in the decibel haters club. Why?

Be it a public meeting or a temple festival, the flexi boards (temporary hoarding) and room sized audio systems make the first appearance. If it is a public meeting, the flexi boards display a group photo of the present to the past (with out a halo of course!) leaders. These boards erected at the behest of the state strong man to perpetuate his own dynastic-al intentions and part of the funding is met by him. For contributing towards the rest of the expenditure, the local strong man includes his family version, if possible. The flexi boards made for a temple festival is all together from a different genre. The Deity will be surrounded by a collage of donors making HER or HIM claustrophobic. These flexi boards will welcome, stare at or even threaten with dire consequences (by the look of it) any one stepping out of his /her house.

 The much needed temporary dais is usually constructed, with permission or impunity, right on the middle of the road, causing traffic jam and forced diversion. Power cut or not, the audio system is given the privilege, to draw electricity from the nearest pole and play devotional, emotional or political cult songs for at least for 16 hrs.

Why the decibel hater’s club hates these functions? In a flexi board and audio system culture what she or he gets is – eyesore and bleeding eardrums.

The hapless victim starts cursing the bygone era inventors of recording and playback systems, particularly the amplifiers, bass, treble and hoofer type noise makers. The power of these noise makers is so strong that even burying the ears under a tightly held pillow gives no relief to the aggrieved. He or She can only curse silently (no use in shouting to be heard over the din) and pray that for some heavenly deliverance. The doubt in their mind is with the Deities putting up with all these noises whether THEY will come to their rescue?

They are not alone in the battle with the din – the vibrating elements of the audio systems have had enough of it. Being inanimate they are still waiting for a miracle to deliver them - a speaker less sound system. These inanimate objects also sense that no body will be giving them a hearing, amidst all these revelries. There is no known Inanimate God to appeal.

The stressed citizens got together and drafted a representation to the concerned authorities for relief. Sensing religious and political overtones, the concerned authorities went incommunicado plugging their ear drums with wads of cotton. In a heated meeting one of them even went to the extent of saying that at least now the speaker should act. The gathering sat silently for a moment not understanding the context of the outburst, as the ‘speaker’ was a sympathizer of the other camp- politically. The meeting broke up in confusion.

In a parallel get together, the inanimate objects also exchanged views in repair shops- a la A Night in the Museum. The animals and the historical figures coming to life, in the museum made the movie wonderful to watch and who might have passed on this juicy piece of information to these speakers in the repair shop? May be the discarded sound system with speakers must have to the shop from a theatre where the movie was screened.

They are not alone. The ghosts of Thomas Alva Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, and Emile Berliner et al are turning in their graves for having left a legacy in sound. Hind sight can never be a substitute foresight .This realization had come to them very late and long after damaging millions of ear drums of the living.

You can't touch the Speaker.

Mr. Thomas Alva Edison invented the rudimentary gramophone. It reproduced the music recorded on a wax cylinder.

Alexander Graham Bell modified the recording device to a wax coated cardboard cylinder. Later Emilie Berliner modified this further, using vulcanized rubber & shellac as the recording medium. The plastic age brought in polymerized plastic records.

The early gadget had a mechanical winder, primitive recording system and horn. The mesmerizing rotation of the record; short meandering arc of the stylus; and a shining brass horn was a thrill and joy.

The horn, as the speaker gently vibrated the air waves around the listener’s ears -the horn acting like the vocal cords for the audio system.

It was a sight to admire, from a distance as only the elite could own and maintain such a contraption. Truly an owner’s pride!

This contraption, meta-morphing, became portable. A pioneering company even had this logo- a ‘player with horn’ and a doggie, sitting in rapt attention, facing the player.

Were they paying a tribute to the acute sense of hearing and fidelity of the canines? A hiss master’s voice!

The player became popular and business prospects improved all around. Motion picture producers and Music groups cashed in -riding piggy-back. The audio player and record manufacturers too benefitted from the windfall.

Electrical drive replaced the mechanical winding system to keep the player turning. Modern versions used plastic discs for storing music.

The records/discs such as EP and LP were well received by the music lovers. The audio technologists added new dimensions to sound reproduction.

Engineered speakers were introduced – bass, treble, hoofer & wafer et al. The heart of the speaker, the vibrating metallic membrane was replaced with a paper cone.

The quality of the treated paper- isotropic thickness and texture played an important role in sound reproduction & fidelity that reached the human ears.

The cone paper innovator might have been an inspired spider-lover. He imitated the vibration of the spider web in the cone paper. In this process, he effectively threw a challenge and made the Creator to pause and think on the possibility of re-engineering the human ears!

The player did not mind the decision of the in-built speaker to strike a partnership deal with an amplifier.  Players & Speakers moved to different quarters. Any how its purpose of reaching the human ears was being heard!

Slowly, both players and discs gave way to tape-recorders and magnetic tapes. Both reconciled to the writing on the wall and gracefully gave in to next-gen versions.

Yet, it mutely looked on with a tinge of envy and wondered whether Mr. Edison had been little too conservative in his original thinking at that time – entrusting only mono-task to it!

It felt happy that the speaker only suffered up gradation and not being side lined. The player did not forget to show its fidelity to its erstwhile mate - the Speaker.

The electronic age, catalysed by World War II, ushered in an era of miniaturization. It shrank, with a single minded devotion, the size of radio and the tape-recorder, elevating the performance levels .

Innovative and mass production techniques resulted in “palm size” products. Quality at throw away prices ensured a huge consumer base.

The magnetic tape wala’s did not sit idle. The Spool type tapes became history. Cassette type & multiple track recording magnetic tapes were introduced.

Stereo music filled the tracks and flooded listener’s ears with trills and shrills of music – an altogether different kind of musical experience.

None of these had any impact on this Honourable speaker but it lent itself willingly to performance enhancement. Beyond tinkering with size the speaker, per-se, was left untouched!

Even the new avatars (2-in-1 & 3-in-1) had to have the speaker to be heard. The gramophone had finally become an antique and collector’s item. The only consolation it got, in the bargain, was a place of pride – in a well maintained show case.

Home theatre versions with surround sound – imagine that without the speakers! Here player & speakers grew in size defying the logic “small is beautiful” and showing us “grander the better for quality “sound of music”

During all these cataclysmic events, who weathered the storm better? You guessed it right – the SPEAKER!

Be it Graham Bell’s telephone or  Edison’s gramophone or present day Cell phone or any other  sound reproducing gadget - the speaker had been left untouched.

Whoever had thought up this sound reproduction system, had surely paid back his gratitude to the Almighty, for endowing human and non human beings with a pair of genetically crafted ears.

What for? To simply receive and appreciate the melodies of music, from the speaker!

Will any body dare to touch and replace the speaker now, the DNA and RNA of sound reproduction system? 

The Golden Handshake

There are varieties of handshakes. The first time introduction results in a typical sliding handshake. Between business promoters it will be a firm handshake. Business acquaintances do a crab hold handshake. Among friends it takes the form of a bonhomie handshake-little patting and holding hands longer. The passionate handshake takes the cake - a python’s grip almost crushing the bones. This special is reserved between friends, who are fast and furious, in a literal sense, to take friendship to unimaginable levels of understanding. Better not to wear a ring on the finger at these handshakes!

There exists a separate kind of greeting - the golden handshake reserved for a resourceful or a retiring colleague or an ousted employee. The former handshake is an emotional flattery – an award, citation, a medallion or for the latter part it will be encomiums with retirement benefits, a sort of hand washing affair. For the ousted employee the handshake is an indication of his emotional disaster. 

In the former category of Golden handshake (for serious efforts while doing nothing useful and along with the less meritorious than me) the department chose to present me with two gold coins. I felt elated and inflated on noting that they were procured from a Swiss bank. After many nights of golden dreams, I managed to send it to the safe custody of our family locker. I started praying secretly, that my wife or daughter should not dream of converting the coins in to an ornament.

One are two such occasions arose like a monster’s head but I battled it out by offering a cash for new ornament scheme which my wife and daughter declined respectfully saying, “we will see at some other time”. Their plan was to lay hands on the coins and my counter offer failed to enthuse them. One more, close encounter with the locker occurred and luckily the bank remained close for two days on account of strike. The coins remained in the locker and I parted with some money to buy a trinket for a birth day gift.

Like a volcano lying dormant for many years, the coins remained in the cold confines of the locker. Being insignificant (in terms of needed cost of jewelries), my coins survived a decade of solitary confinement. Taking pity on them I decided to free them and present them to two of the family members of my choice.

The lure of gold slowly took a foot hold in my mind. Till then I was satisfied with a lone ring on the ring finger of my left hand. Not to propitiate any deity or as a shield from evil glances. I am a passionate person and have friends of the same category and ready to exchange a python grip handshake with me. This is the reason for the ring on the left hand. Indirectly this acted as a deterrent to my desire to adore my ring finger on the right hand with a ring!

Hard won trophies are cherished possessions and my dream was to hold the gold coins also in such esteem. Though I wished to give a coin each to two of my deserving family members, I had confidence to pass on the coins as well as the dream behind it to the winners. Once I was seriously thinking about drawing up a will expressing this fond wish of mine.

A few years rolled by a son in law and daughter in law increased the tally of contenders to six. I thought I could retain one of the coins as a trophy. Getting serious I drew up various plans to spot the two winners but all remained in a fluid stage due to my Shakespearian dilemma – to give or not to give. 

Another reason for the lack of progress might have been the reduced threat perception I anticipated for my dear coins – both the children are married now! The safety of the coins must have sent the neurons in my scheming mind in to a deep slumber.

Feeling ashamed at myself in not able to make up my mind straight away and complete the gifting ceremony, even after many years and innumerable excuses - I decided to act. This was the wakeup call my mind was waiting for. It started racing ahead preparing scenarios and assessment plans for the imminent contest. At this point it took over the planning and action with a vengeance.

First, it wanted me to bow out of the contest before the preliminaries itself –an awarder cannot be an awardee, shook the eligibility ground from under me. Oh. What a forceful logic! In a single move it reduced the number to five candidates. It might have sensed that the lure of gold slowly taking hold in my mind too – at least to retain one of the two coins. Next, it set sight on my wife’s credentials. Here it found the going tough as she presented two options – an eligible awardee, even without the ‘virtual’ based on stellar qualities. Ineligible on the ground that she is a “pro” and as such not eligible to contest amongst amateurs! I was confused with its political talk for a little while but it came up with another stunning logic – the noble metal in the periodic table is no match for this noble person. Now it wanted to run a ‘virtual contest’ - actually a qualifying heat, among the remaining competitors.

The brown matter inside my head yet again proved, that it is worth its weight in gold. Oh, no in platinum!(Or should it be Plutonium?). Even before the real contest could start, the number has come down to four. Here I was really annoyed at the way it started behaving and started fearing that it may eliminate the remaining contestants to lay claims on the gold coins – for itself! I decided to force my way in into its thinking process and keep a check on this unilateralism. During that day’s sleep I spoke to it and with some effort managed to convince the need for a co-chair. The carrot I dangled – that it was overburdened and my wife would be an excellent choice, not being a contender. Both of us slept peacefully, like pleased fairies.

The new award committee got down to business. Me and my wife started listing our ‘soft corners’ with respect to each of the contenders. As usual a bickering match started between us and started picking holes in the ‘soft corners’ to bring out the weakness in the reasoning. Amidst this emerging stalemate, she uttered a sentence - “All are now our children now and among them why make such a distinction?” Bowing to this astute reasoning, I dropped the ‘soft corner’ issue like hot potatoes.

Next we discussed the positives and negatives of each one of them. My forceful but slightly weak on points, did not wash with the co-chair. She put to rest my speculations simply with this point – “All suffer these traits and better to move forward with the positives and fundamentals” – a synopsis on her survey of human resources! I gave in meekly. But as a last ditch effort, I tried to bring in a new eligibility criteria – achievements. This motion was defeated as I could not give convincing replies to her queries – “On which scale, tangible or intangible, your standard or international standard?”

The brown matter- in my head, which was troubling me on and off till a few days ago, renounced me and took sanyas. I did the best thing under these circumstances – kept my mouth shut. Taking full control, she announced the winners – our grand children. Marvelling at her diplomacy, I agreed readily. I now have one positive feeling and one doubt. The positive feeling was that my legacy will live on. The doubt was whether I could plan for another ‘virtual’ heat at that time?

“Whom shall I ask?” is yet another doubt.