The wails of an Automobile

I have plenty of reasons to lament.You are always in a hurry starting late to arrive at the destination early. Wondering how I know this – by the pressure on the accelerator and the racing of TDI or DTI engine. So,if you have a little time, please switch off your sound system and lend me your ears.

My birth place, the automobile industry has come a long way since the contraptions like a horse drawn buggies passed as cars. The new age automakers vie with one another to come up with cars/SUVs that drink less and gobble up on kilometers. To me it looks like a medical condition of an anemic sportsperson bolting along the track.

   The surgeries and implants carried out are done without prior consultation or consent. Metal works gave way to light weight composite.  In this process I lost my soul and gained in ungainly look – some of us looking like aa cargo truck on smaller wheels and some others resembling a train compartment on rubber wheels.

As you people have not being considerate about my aesthetics & ergonomics, I am not unduly worried about your economic power. On this front you lose but I gain another owner through the secondary market, the pre-owned car segment. Surprised! I too can talk about segments and quarters, the business section of newspapers have educated me in this respect.

I forgot to remind you that there are faithful owners, who still care and drive around in earlier editions. I am really proud to witness a vintage car rally, a rare opportunity to breath in the whiff of petrol laden exhaust of my ancestors.

I only hope that the “junkyard” culture will take hold in this country and then further uses will be found for my body organs that are still capable of working, as efficiently before.

I have a few questions needing clarifications:

As built I am a saleable automobile. Why the maker needs a brand ambassador, to stand by my side and get paid for that effort?  

The kilometers per liter is always indicated with an asterisk, with an explanatory conditions apply caution, why?

My limited intelligence tells me that the asterisk might be to refer to the star brand ambassador. It is still grappling with the ‘conditions apply” – whether it means my health, the state of the road or the state of the person behind the wheel.

The last question if only the sound system gives you the pleasure to drive, why not attach wheels to that system and enjoy the ride?

No. It is not necessary to honk the horn to express your discomfort and displeasure. Please keep in mind that I am at your service till you take fancy on another model.

    Let us have a nice ride together, as long as it is possible. 

The reflections of a banyan tree:

                                         

I am a unique tree and do not depend upon a second or third generation for support. I am proud to stand on my own feet and numerous hands – the aerial prop roots. In fact, it is a rare sight to come face to face with me – not many of us are around and an eyeful even if I am the only tree within a radius of few kilometers. My philosophy is simple - “I am the then, now and the future”.

I do not know when my feet,  first, touched the earth, most probably a crack in the wall of an abandoned fortress, or a residential building or a crevice in the trunk of a tree. I am cursed by the host tree when it becomes a ghost – my strangle hold is powerful. 

Sometimes, the sapling gets pulled out from the residential walls, but I fear no such aggression from the derelict fortress. Rather it openly welcomes me to camouflage its wounds with greenery, feeling comfortable in my solid presence – root, trunk, branches and aerial props.

I am in  no hurry to sprout, shoot, spread and wither. Like the tortoise, I live on a slow heart- beat, as far as longevity is concerned, for a few centuries! But it must have been 5 to 10 years before I could get a peek at my immediate surroundings. Subsequently, the appearance of the whiskers of aerial roots heralded my puberty.

Now, you may wonder why I bear innumerable fruits packed with a handful of seeds packed in every one of them. May be in the hope that a healthy seed dispersed, far away from my towering presence, might start its own ‘yesterday, today and tomorrow’! For the sake of that one seed, I have to feed hundreds of birds, who visit my hermitage as guests.

Don’t mistake me for the other type of hermitage where sages live, guide and contemplate on life “now” and the “herein after”. Surely, one of them must have told this story of a weary traveler, who stayed a brief while, to rest under my shade. 

He had this doubt – “why such a small fruit on a big banyan tree?” He got the answer when he woke up with a start from his slumber. The reason - a tiny fruit falling on him causing a sharp pain. Had it been a fruit the size of a coconut, what would have happened to me? So went the story and enlightenment.

The mirthful children hanging onto my aerial roots and swinging to heart’s content gives me pleasure. Any religious rites you perform, don’t you use dry banyan twigs to seek the blessings of god Agni? Don't forget this - dry or green , my tender twigs helped you to keep your teeth & gum in good health. Coming closer to home, my green or dried leaves became the bio-degradable,hygenic plates from which elders and ascetics ate their frugal meals.

Inspite of all my outreach to the humanity, I lead a lonely life amidst other flora. Come and experience the soothing silence and get rejuvenated. The countless birds darting among the leaves and branches will keep you tuned to nature.

Now, I have a request to make. As you admire my majestic appearance, from a distance, will you leave me enough space; say a few acres of land in which I could spend my entire life? 

Switch Bharat to “swach” Bharath:

With so much emphasis being made on the drive for a clean India, Tom wanted to try his hand on essaying his feelings as an article, at least to read by himself.

Human life is inextricably linked with stars – both the heavenly & earthly types, and the influence they exert on them. He chose to group them together for a valid reason – both worlds contain bright blue stars, middle aged yellow stars, about to retire red giants and so on. On second thoughts, being an armchair sports enthusiast, he included sports stars also in the list.

Another interesting parallel he drew upon from this list was, all the types have a never-say-die attitude and evolve into series of ‘avtars’ till they fade, ‘shed’ their light and mass  to finally disappear from sight.

But there is this difference – the heavenly ones are put to use by us and the earthly ones make use of us! The bread & butter of a cosmologist come from the stars in the universe. The earthly stars are very clever and their bread, butter, imported luxuries and palatial pent houses are powered by their ready – to die fan following.

Tom after thinking over this weighty matter came to certain conclusions and decided to find ways to turn the table on them. To camouflage his plot, as an innocent scheme, he found ways to rope in big names in industries – National & MNC. He had the gut feeling,  “if a luring bag of oats is hung on the neck of a horse, it will gladly dip its neck into the grains”.

Then he calmly proceeded to list the ‘drives’ needed in the Nation’s interest and drew the type of E-stars who would be perfect, to anchor them.

Rout the drought:

A vast country like ours is under the whims of weather god or an angel or a villain. He wanted to leave the matter at this point as engaging in classifying the “who is who” will not eradicate drought.

His first choice fell upon a never-gave-up hero, who after successfully delivering box office bombs, somehow struck a gold mine and is about to restart his journey  towards the dumps.

Per se, actors deliver dialogues, with punch lines and feelings. A short briefing on the situation and a talented screenplay writer will equip him for a good performance in front of farmers about to commit suicide.

Even if the opening show is a flop, the tempo can be ramped up by ample publicity in all the media. This free publicity elixir will work wonders and the next act will certainly turn out to be an unforgettable one!

Moved to tears after hearing his heart wrenching sufferings and determination to “rise like phoenix from the ashes”, the drought stricken farmers get ready to start sowing  on parched lands!

This campaign will save lives of farmers as well earn the government people’s goodwill on Tactical governance.

Cleanliness:

If the nation has to be made as clean as a manicured nail’s underside, creating a overwhelming appeal is urgently needed. Gathering mass support is not that easy and people with star-power can easily pull that off and help the government in harnessing the much needed motivation.

For this effort, two types of E-stars are required. The mature yellow and hot, young blue types. An immediate list can be drawn in no time – watch TV ads for 15 seconds and you have the names in the bag. If you are in a hurry, the blue to red giant stars can be enrolled, to start with. 

Then a subtle nudge on industries to support this drive either overtly or covertly – to make their future ad clips with hot blue stars (eves in E-stars) wielding a broom or to actively sponsor a segment of the programme on any TV channel. Either way, the industries will get their money’s worth.

Though, no bar exists on a red super giant star sporting a broom with a manly voice (unlike those emotionless DD type announcers), it would be better to choose from the hot blue eE-stars, who stand by products ranging from dishwasher to diamonds. The brooms might look attractive in their hands.

The eve-stars wielding the broom are like the heavenly black holes – generate enormous heat (appeal) and leave a lasting impression (mass following).  

These ads & stars will do wonders for the drive. This preferential treatment might hurt the m –E stars, the yellow and red giants; after all they too are in the limelight – courtesy of shining e-E stars.

These macho stars’ impact might sound like a second string fiddle, yet compared with the noise of the politico band, it will be pleasant on the ears.

We all can join the celebration of ‘responsible social governance’. The government of the day benefits, without spending a rupee and the message reaches every nook and corner of the country.

Here a doubt arose in Tom’s mind – “what if Industries don’t come forward or the stars keep away from shoots”? An alternative emerged like a flash preceding the thunder – the rag pickers. An ad , shot in natural settings and with natural actors!

Visual impact is guaranteed but the ad will be like a Charlie Chaplin type silent version. Now the government can boast that it has brought up the message from grass roots to high rise towers. Who knows, this ad campaign might even end up with an award at Cannes.

Cleaner culture:

Not in the sense of pure air, water and un-adulterated food. The drive is aimed at weeding out criminal activities like smuggling & mugging.

The Captains, Colonels and Generals – not the army type but the filmy type male -E stars ,  can single handedly lend an admirable help in snuffing out  gold, diamond, sandalwood & red sander smugglers and
lodge them in jails. Of course after donning a black gown to get them sentenced as per law, but speedily.

Their qualification – defying gravity, ducking flying bullets and walking through, in shirt sleeves, an inferno – unscathed.
 Is it not ample enough? 

Their only handicap – all these have to be stage managed. Anyways, the law enforcing agencies being under tremendous pressure and short in man power, any idea is worth a try.

If it succeeds, then who will claim the credit? Whoever it is, the government can proudly take the credit – for ‘evolving culture governance’!

Your question is “what happened to the s-E stars”?

From the past to the present, the eve-E stars got attracted and attached to a few of these successful sportsmen, for the s-E star's value. Apart from these tabloid dreams, their competitive spirit is an asset. This spirit can be imparted, en mass, to the population and make the ‘wake up India’ campaign, an unprecedented success.

The government can loudly claim it as ‘society engineering'.

Tom is eagerly waiting for a feedback from the public and a pat from the government for suggesting novel campaigning methods! Anticipatimg a "...Sri", "..Bhushan" or "...vibhushan", has drawn up many more such programmes for implementation!

The House, the Queen & the life of Honey Bees

         

Part - 3: The house, the Queen and life Bees:

The taste of honey might lure Little Typhoon to empathise with the life style and survival of this species. The next bee sting may not hurt her that much as was in the earlier occasion. In the course of this narration, some ideas got repeated or presented in reworded form; it was done only to lay emphasis.

To present an interesting picture on the life in a comb, I relied on the help of Mr. Charles Darwin to understand his theory of evolution, as far as the bee is concerned.

The honey bees are at ease in their natural habitat– of trees and caves. They have adopted well to live on high raise buildings, temple towers or in any of the apartments of a gated community or in any secured apiary. This continent of Philosophy must be proud, to have been hosting these honey makers, for the last 35 to 40 million years.

The bee colony comes in to being, with the help of a large contingent of worker bees and the queen bee. Moving en masse to the nest site, selected by worker bees, they start the construction activities. Each bee, eager to kick-start the ‘operation honey comb – brood & butter’ bends its back and strains its   wings to meet the schedule.

Their motto: If we can’t keep to time now, then   where is it to brood? A highly philosophical attitude indeed!

Once the honey comb is completed, the Queen bee starts her brooding season. The slogan at the door of her chamber, might it be catchy like this - “Feast, choose, mate and brood”

The queen bee has nothing to do, besides enjoying her royal comforts, except to start the rituals - a fresh life cycle for a horde of drones, worker bees and a queen bee to perpetuate the lineage in the comb or hive.  She has authority to decide her own schedule for withdrawing sperms from the Bank of Spermatheca -   to fertilize the eggs placed in the cells and to populate the comb/hive with the kind of bees, needed at that season. Just like ordering from a menu card!

The Queen bee flies out in search of suitors having the right DNA typing , being careful to avoid offspring with mixed ‘ her’ & ‘his’ traits. She wants the brood only with ‘her traits’.

Her selection process, to choose a mate is very elaborate and should be faultless, to such an extent as, to avoid dating & courtship with a boyfriend from her own comb.

The reigning Queen has a diagnostic tool, an airborne-chromatographic column, sensitive even to less than a pbm (parts per billion molecules) to deal with such complications. But she is never in a hurry and diligently undertakes several flights to accomplish this task.  She knows perfectly well that from among the laid eggs, the worker bees will raise a Queen Bee.

The Queen bee, in all probability, may parley with one or more drones and on more than one dating flight. The queen and these drones might have at least one identical sex alleles to produce mother-type drone eggs (Motype).

The hand of fate deals the male bees with a cruel blow – they are condemned to death after mating with the queen bee. Queen and worker bees are born from fertilized eggs, with a valid parental stamping.

Only Mr. Charles Darwin might be able to throw some light on this genetic exclusivity & its impact on his theory.

A bee colony has - one queen, a few thousand fertile drones and a large contingent of sterile female workers.  Yet among drones & female workers of the same species (or) between drones & female workers of different species, a subtle difference exists in the chromosome counts: The female of any species has twice the number of chromosome count, compared with their male counter parts - The les miserables.

Bees, in a comb, are politically naive; they select and nurture a Queen and instead of ruling over ‘her’, they queue up in front of ‘her’ as spineless citizens. As well they could have done with out ‘her’.

May be, we the human beings  have ‘apiared’ that model too exactly, electing and regretting our impulsive choices? Both of us have to fight to keep what is ours - Honey Bees its savings and human beings their ethos.

It would be a utopian world, if the honey Combs could send down a part of honey, held in stock once a month and unasked. Then bees can live, in peace, like an honest taxpayer!

In the absence of such a mechanism, the combs are plundered leaving the waxy structure to stand mute testimony to their disillusionment against any ‘kind’ which is not ‘kind’ to them – humans and wild animals.

The bees in the comb are as selfish as the ants, much against the popular belief - that both are social workers. Both live in a colony and for a colony; are ruled by their respective Queens, whom these poor insects themselves, select, foster and crown - only to die, at the end, without even a posthumous honour.

Yes. They are social workers with in their respective colonies.

When the weather becomes too cold for comfort, all the worker bees and drones assume the role of comfort providers, to keep the Queen warm and comfortable.

They start the game of shivering in unison to generate warmth. First, for the comfort of the queen and then for their own sake - like programmed toys or persons afflicted with ‘dengue’ fever, doing the St. Vitus dance.

They strive to maintain the ambience near 25°C, when the queen is observing a winter-pause in raising a fresh brood. The brooding (laying) period of the queen bee is important and demanding - important as another set of workers are needed and demanding because the worker bees  have to carry on with this comb/hive warming  exercises, at a feverish rate to maintain the central heating around  35°C.

It is a pity that they have not learned the art of keeping themselves warm by simply lighting a safety lamp, using a fuel mixture of honey and wax!

The worker bees manage to stay comfortable, with out affecting the routine. They take turns to change duties and share the cold and the warmth - avoiding hypothermia for those exposed to the cold air at the periphery of the comb.

For the worker bees, the winter season is celebration time with sumptuous feast of honey - with out rationing. The combs look lean and compact.
                           

Only the Himalayan honey bees have managed to live in nests, at high altitudes and in frozen landscapes. The largest of the living honey bee nesting in the highest mountain range, with out a winter huddle!

Hone Bee - The architect

Part – 2: The building of a honey comb

             

While reading this account, I hope Little Typhoon would understand the versatile and responsible life of honey bees. Appreciation for this species might rub into her mind, whenever she tastes a spoonful of honey!

In the honey comb, the bees follow a strict hierarchy – Queen, workers and drones. Only the worker bees are endowed with the skill to build the honey comb. They send out teams to scout and select suitable sites. Then, the building activities commence, at the most convenient location.  

To make this narration a little more interesting, I had to avail the help of Mr. Kekule, Sigmund Freud, Sir Isaac Newton, Tom Sawyer and the Spider.

Mr. Kekule was spending sleepless nights, over the vexed question of what would be the most suitable chemical structure for Benzene? Such a chemical structure should satisfy the atomic arrangement of the compound and as well explain all the known reactions it undergoes.

All these while and even millions of years before Mr. Kekule’s birth, honey bees were happily using hexagonal shaped openings in building their combs – unaware of Kekule’s dilemma!

Who gets the credit Miss. Nature or Mr. Kekule?

If at all, he had focused a little more attention on the honey combs in his neighbourhood, perhaps, he could have settled the shape of the of Benzene molecule - in a jiffy and with out waiting for the demons to dance in his dreams. 

Probably, by instinct he might have replicated the moves of bees, hopping from one opening to another. He, he gave the benzene molecule a six-member ring structure or a hexagonal shape with few bachelor electrons doing   ring -a- ring –a- roses. Thus the foundation stone for the edifice of an important branch - Organic chemistry was laid.

The honey bee, being an open air architect has many possible building sites - a branch of a well grown tree, an arching or over hanging rock face, the windowsills of high rise buildings or the underside of a water tank.

May be as an additional advantage, it might choose a site in close proximity of a wooded area, floricultural lands or orchards and fruit gardens - easy to gather nectar; though the bees fly several lakh of kilometers to gather nectar required to produce a kilo of honey. In this aspect the bees might be exhibiting the tendency of human beings, to  yearn for connectivity.

The surface that is chosen, as the foundation of the comb, is plastered with a thick coat of wax. Here is the main difference between the human dwelling and the nests of birds and insects like the honey bee. We anchor our empires at the deepest possible depths and then the super structure rises above the ground level.

Are we trying to communicate to the other living beings, sharing the space with us, that we are not open or that we have deeply buried pasts? This enigma could probably be answered only by a Sigmund Freud.

The birds and honey bees choose a site which happens to be the highest, convenient location, to start their construction. Are they trying to tell us that from the height to the depth, they have only open secrets? Only a bird and insect psychologist can throw light on this conundrum!

Honey bees rival the Spider in construction technique and material.

The honey uses wax wafers and the spider uses a polymerisable liquid secretion. Both share a strong mathematical aptitude for the branch dealing with figures – geometry. The spider is obsessed with spirals, involutes and radii whereas the honey bee is fascinated by the hexagon.

In a honey comb, the most responsible and versatile is the worker bees and they run a factory to produce the quantity of wax needed for a comb. The honey, they consume has to be commensurate with the task on hand - supplying energy for work and as raw material to the eight wax producing glands. The bees process honey in to wax at a specific temperature of 34.5 ± 1.5°C. 

Probably, the worker bees engaged in the wax manufacturing enjoy a little leniency and can get away for demanding an enhanced dietary funding under Food – For –Wax (FFW), just like what Tom Sawyer did for white washing a wall. Till now, this demand of the workers has not been vetoed in the history of honey bees.

The wax layers and comb builders are pretty clever. They have some how hit up on the idea - of identical and miniaturized parts, that will greatly enhance the pace in building of the comb. The produced wax scales measuring in micrometer thicknesses and millimeter widths; glass like and light weight construction material.

From where, these versatile workers have learnt the art of producing transparent, glassy looking waxy scales? Is it a tribute to their wax producing glands and associated metering mechanisms or millions of years of genetic knowledge?

The bees need the comb   urgently to start a new colony and with a swarm of dedicated workers on roster, this time saving technique might not greatly alter the finishing date.

The bees, having come in to being much earlier than humans, have learned to use a single window system - hexagonal cells, of the same size, for every one. Is this not a radically a different approach, if we could recollect the story of Sir Isaac Newton, his pet cat, it’s kitten, a big and a small opening on the door!

If by law the bees have to apply for a comb building permit, no **UDA will touch it with a 10ft barge pole. Though it is full of hexagonal cell holes, the Free Space Index is “0”. In all probability the bees will be shown the Floor plan of a spider to drive home the point that all empty looking cells are not voids!

Unlike the spider, the honey bee need not pray for favourable wind conditions to start with the comb construction. It just needs a plain surface at any vantage location. Then like storm troopers, the swarm, of worker bees, prepares the construction site with a foundation course of a waxy layer.

The honey bees are very flexible in their approach and consider it an accomplished task, even if they manage to put in place only a part of the first hexagonal cell.  Then, as all of us are fond of saying – completing the rest of the comb is history.

Working in unison, the bees fix the possible number of sides of the first row hexagons, at the foundation level. .  Making use of these available sides of the first row of hexagons, the subsequent rows of hexagons are added along the length and breadth of the plot.

The bees at this stage probably know that with team effort they can create such a honey comb which will pass the scrutiny of the human eyes as perfect.

The task of building the honey comb, k is very unique and complex.  The sides of the hexagons must be equal in length and any two sides must have an included angle of 120°. Further more, this geometry must be constructed using wafer thin and short wax bricks, with out using heat to melt and join the adjacent sides. As being laid, the wax bricks will have to be adjusted for length, angle and instantly set in position.

They have this technique of deception, under their wings, to let loose – crowding and buzzing around the comb, incessantly and without giving a window of an opportunity for a closer look. Obviously, by this time some thing must have started buzzing in our minds. Shall we acknowledge the complexity and technicality, the bees employ – whenever the building of a honey comb comes to our mind?

Can we resolve to deem the honey combs as an architecturally designed construction?

The near white, opaque wax used in honeycomb building, slowly turns yellowish or brownish due to the incorporation of oily substances from pollen. They don’t bother about exterior appearances – simply there is no free time!

The Spider and the honey bees deserve our kudos! Both accomplish their tasks with utmost precision and with out any external referrals.

Mr. Kekule, being a scientist would have been delighted to ask the honey bees a couple questions. Why they prefer only the wax secreted by them and not any another chemical substance, to build, bind and water proof the honey comb?

Mr. Kekule being aware of the “lac” structure built by Duryodhana to burn down the Pandavas might have been apprehensive on the safety aspects of their honey combs.

Honey bee - the social entrepreuner

Introduction:

I availed a brief sabbatical holiday (meaning escape from Little Typhoon’s barrage of inquisitive questions) and used it to get in to the subject matter of our last encounter – the Bee, honey and the beehive. Is this not rhyming with the famous Bollywood film Roti, kapda aur machhan?

I resolved not to entertain oral exchanges but to make her read the narration, without questioning my grasp on the subject. Here I am on a safe wicket – LT has to wait a few years, at least, to go through the printed matter, provided the memory of the sting still remains fresh in her mind.

Notwithstanding this, I owe her a “thank you” note – for making me to gather these informations from various publicized accounts.

Part – 1: The honey

The continent, which introduced the concept of ‘zero’ to mathematics, also has this distinction - according to fossil logs, the first of honey bees might have operated their mithai shops, here in Asia several million years ago.

Honey is a sweet and natural product, combining the flora and insecta origins. Plants and the sterile female worker bees are JV partners in converting plant secretions, honeydew and nectar through the refining laboratories of the bees – a quid pro quo of a sweeter kind.

Nectar and flavour by any other name means the same anywhere in the world. But honey, by taste and flavour, may not be the same everywhere in the world. This depends on the source accreditation of the product- wild or domestic; hot or a cold climate and a host of other conditions that lend the flavour and taste to this produce.

                           

The taste, flavour and composition of the honey vary as in the case of vines.  The connoisseur/expert/authority can put his fingers, in this case his nose and taste buds, unerringly on factors such as soil, location, climate, plant source, season, processing methods and storage conditions to appraise the quality.

The bee plays its part – seeking the juicy nectar sporting a prescription UV glasses for reading the blueprint. They never got tired of playing this game for over several million of years, give or take a few years spent in devising the game. 

   

Though they are JV partners, the flowers do not give open access to the raw material- nectar. Like booting of a computer system, series of regulatory checks are to be completed. The flower plays a little game by hiding nectar, anther and stamen in the darkest, central park.

The honey bee steps in to the house of nectar and as soon as its legs land on a “honey trap” mat- literally the honey bee swipes a biological admit card. After verification, the mat bends down triggering the mature anthers also to bend forward and sprinkle ‘pollen grains’ in a traditional welcoming style. Then as a seasoned hostess, the flower serves a dish of sweet nectar, as quid pro quo, to the guest of honour.

Production of pollen, pollination and propagation is the life cycle of a plant. The flower does not mind the revisits by the same honey bee a million times and every time plays the part of a perfect hostess. Collection of nectar, converting it to honey and proliferation is a life cycle for the honey bee. This inter & intra relationships, with out courtships are selfish and benefitting mutually.

Otherwise, will the flower welcome the bee or will the bee visit the flower again and again?

Honey bees are fond of dancing and perform it with out the help of a choreographer, practice sessions or rehearsals. They use different types of ‘bee natyams’ and ‘mudras’- waggle, tremble and round dance to GPS with each other- according to the nature of information such as availability of nectar, quality, distance and direction to the Garden of Flowers. 

They don’t look for a stage to perform but do it right in the air and while in flight. The worker’s special –tremble dance is performed solely for the purpose of calling in volunteers to collect the nectar brought by the foragers.

‘Nectar in the mouth is not the same as the honey in the comb’. What a poignant statement from the house of the industrious insects!  They use digestive and regurgitation techniques to promptly convert the gathered nectar in to honey, using inversion enzymes.

The bees store the processed honey in a viscous liquid form, as absorbate in the numerous cells cum passages cum living holes – the unique hexagonal shapes.

The energy we derive or the honey gives out is based on the saccharides or sugars – fructose, glucose and sucrose. Their chemical structure might be complicated but the sweeter taste is simple. To add ‘zing’ to the taste, smaller constituents such as acids, proteins, oxidase enzymes, minerals and moisture are present rendering honey slightly acidic and to go well with our alkaline taste buds.

The produce of the honey bees and the anatomy of a particular type of ants have been put to important usages, by the Ayurvedic surgeons, in operations to treat general and war wounds. The surgeons applied honey, as a lure, on the incisions that are to be stitched and placed a specially reared species of ants on to them.

 The ants, in their eagerness to taste the sweetish offering, dug in their cutters on either side of the open lesion. The moment the ant starts feasting, the waiting surgeon applied a guillotine at its neck, expertly severing the rest of its body. The surgeon repeated this exercise till the wound was closed against internal infection. The ‘cutters’ of those ants were a cutting edge tool in the operative care of patients!

On the part of the ant, it was an act of supreme sacrifice to save a human life.

Apart from this important use in surgical procedures, the honey was a preferred vehicle to deliver medicines. A household without a bottle of honey and a grandmother was the rarest of a rare case, in those days and in those villages where Gandhiji’s young India lived. Be it a potion for fever, aches, de-worming or a laxative or a bitter pill – honey had a hand in all of them.

It also found use in the cosmetic formulations - mixed along with herbal and aromatic pastes as beauty aides, for the fair and lovelies of ancient kingdoms.

Even among this society of insects- which produce “honey”, fake actors are present. They also produce honey, but could not capture a share of the consumer market or get settled in apiaries, like honey bees. Only the genuine process and product qualifies for certification.       

 If the honey bees apply for it, they will gladly be given an ISO certification, in no time, for their traditional, systematic way of production and storage.

      

Any one serving the society at large, even with selfish motives can be considered as a social worker.  In this respect, this species of honey bees have been exemplary: ‘if a flower needs a visit, we will be there; if a drop of honey is to be made we will gladly do it;’

These tireless workers have been immortalized with a place in the Heavens. Astronomers have named a nebula (honey bee) and a star cluster (beehive cluster) to commemorate their dedication, for many more millions of years to come.

Armchair Walking (expanded) – A Bystander prescription

    

      

Walking is an exercise, in necessity or to maintain physical well being. Those involved in this form of activity would have never imagined the hidden danger – physical harm. Yet somehow they manage to adjust to the realities and continue with their exercise.

Bystander knew Mr.Strider since childhood. This front row observation has resulted in characterizing the man and his walk. Mr Strider developed the habit of walking as a routine, almost five decades ago, and continues with it even today. 

In the initial days and up to his teens, it was to save a few paise to augment his pocket money. Really it was these paise coins which constituted his corpus fund as the practice of giving pocket money, for the day today needs, was not an in-thing, in those times. 

He employed a simple modus operandi, walk part of the distance to be travelled and then board a bus, such that his destination fell between one ticketing stage to another, to save 3 or 5 paise. Wait! In those days even the amount of 3 paise could get you something.

He once told Bystander that in this way, by skipping & stage hopping, he could save money for an occasional cinema or a visit to an eatery. While recounting these experiences, his face glowed, at the thought of having achieved an economical miracle, to enhance his purchasing power.

Obviously a micro-economist in the making!

He has done reasonably well – benefitting health and considerable, well earned money. He often used to say “a paisa saved is a paisa earned”

But Bystander did not fail to detect a small disturbance playing in the mind of Mr Strider. It took him nearly 3 days and 3 or 4 chance meetings in super markets, bank premises and courier offices. Strange - as it may appear, but possible in real life. A breeze of nostalgia did its best to uncork the emotions, between bosom friends trying to make up for those years spent on non-contact.

Bystander surmised that Mr.Strider was worried about something but was sure that it was not regarding wealth. Mr Strider did not attach too much importance on this count as he still maintained his frugal nature. Doesn’t habit die hard?

During the ensuing discussion, Bystander understood that for a compulsive walker like Mr. Strider, the roads are becoming dangerous by the day and may be, the fear for personal safety might be worrying him. 

It has been his experience too and after many narrow misses on the road, had spent sessions on thinking, to formulate a set of safety rules for such a compulsive or a compelled walker. 

Bystander, not in the habit of passing up an opportunity to share his wisdom, decided to proclaim his set of road safety rules, to a willing audience.

“You can wear a helmet with miner’s lamp and this will help you to safely walk during early mornings and after sunset. At least you can switch the head light on to warn mobikes, auto & tempo-walahs. They don’t come with lights blazing”. 

“Better fit turning indicators, on front & back of your shoulders. You can warn the riders & walkers that you intend to turn left or right! Many times, pedestrians themselves would get in to your path, blocking it or colliding with you!

“It would be nice to have a parking light and a red light, in a convenient location on your back. Better make your intention clear for whoever cares to notice and act. 

“Why to forgo the satisfaction of letting others know – you are in parking mood (will stay put for a brief period) or  will be parked ( remain there for a longer time). This will avoid you getting immobilised for a longer period, in a hospital bed!

“As an improvement to the turning indicators, hang a gadget, at chest or abdomen level, having LT, RT arrows and a straight arrow. You will look like a mobile signal post!

“Like cricketers, wear an arm and shim guard to avoid glancing hits from mobile riders, out on the roads to showcase their weaving skills.

“Forget not your feet – wear armoured shoes to avoid getting your toes crushed at zebra crossings by signal jumpers. You will encounter with them at any given signal and at any given time of the day!

Mr.Strider heard through all the suggestions – they appeared logical and at the same time highly impractical. Having known Bystander for long, Strider wondered within himself – has he ever given a practical solution!

Not wishing to hurt Bystander in any way, he politely said, “With all these gadgets on my person, I would either look like a robot or an astronaut.



Where is the pleasure in walking? Simply I can sit at home, is it not?

                               

This was not the last on the matter. Bystander had a ready final say – “Take to armchair walking, by all means. It is very safe!” 

Mr. Strider, after a contemplative silence, blurted out, “If I follow these suggestions, then me and my walk will become history”.

The moment he heard the word history, Bystander seized this opportunity to assuage Mr. Strider, of his philosophical hurt. He launched wholeheartedly into another one of his monologues – this time on his take on history.

"I have analysed the history of the origin of history and came to certain funny conclusions.

Accordingly, the earlier chroniclers (later day historians) attempted to record the happenings around them, under the title “This Story”. 

It was more or less the glorified daily diary -   some of us have the habit of writing. Both had only personal value.

“This Story” had no place for hero worship and the impact of the story had local limits.

Next time around, the chroniclers, not being comfortable with this free-lance tag, decided to choose the personal deeds of a popular figure, which can exert some influence on the people as well as his own livelihood. 

Thus began the cult of a local hero and hero worship. “This Story” became “his Story” probably the chroniclers felt the remuneration was not commensurate with the toil and simply dropped the letter ‘T’ from the title. 

This is the beginning of ‘paid news’. This nomenclature is often heard doing the rounds during elections, in our time.

In the next stage, by this time power centres have sprung up everywhere and, the desire leave a good record, of achievements, dawned in the minds of the powerful. 

Their eyes fell on the chroniclers to showcase them as shining examples of valour, chivalry, political acumen and kindness , excluding acts of cruelty of course! A beginning in the art of selective reporting or simply a weak version of censorship.

The chroniclers thus became professionals – in the pay of their respective masters. This kind of  briefs brought tremendous pressure on their conscience but the fear of  wrath and the lure of comfort applied a n equal but a lateral force. Their conscience caved in.

This lateral force was also felt by the words in the title “His Story”. They gave up the space separating them ,  and fused into a single word History !”.  A stress relief at the fault line.

As in the exploits of the extolled, someone had to suffer – yes, one “S” dropped dead!

Is it not said that ‘history is written by the victor, of the victor and for the victor’   

Nice cliché to end the musings, don’t you think ?"

The monologue on the story of history came to an end.

At the end, Mr. Strider had nothing to say, partly out of confusion and partly out of fear for Bystanders’ repertoire of monologues.

The Flower vendor

For the past few months, a vendor on motor cycle was getting my curiosity aroused. Almost on all the days, I happened to see him, during my morning walks. On otherwise a dull routine, following him, as he delivered flowers at each door step - a shop, a hotel or an apartment building , made the walking more  enjoyable.

At a particular time, each morning, we happened to be in the same place. Both carried on with this routine, irrespective of the weather .Not on speaking terms yet, I simply named him as the flower man.

Why the interest in a flower vendor?

He rode his motor cycle, like a man riding a horse strung with saddle bags. But his saddle bags were filled with flowers packed in sachets for easy distribution. Is that all that held my curiosity, No!

At some of the stops, he added a few or a handful of flowers into the sachet before delivery. To make this observation I had to spend many morning walks or otherwise it would have sent a wrong signal to him that I am following him every day. Is he showing partiality to selected customers? Thus my walking turned into a guessing exercise too.

This led to some funny and near miss incidents –like trying to go through a fence mistaking it for a pathway; the rear view mirror of a speeding motorcyclist almost succeeding to dislocate my elbow joint; getting ankle deep in a puddle of dirty water, which left me feeling foolish and my pants and shoes annoyed.

With hindsight, I felt happy that none of my escapades were noticed by the flower man as he had disappeared into an apartment or was climbing the steps of a shuttered shop.

Days rolled by increasing the number ‘sighting’ of each other and slowly matured into a nodding acquaintance. Even at this point of time no verbal exchange took place. The ice was broken one day when both of us came face to face, instead of the usual passing –by-each other.

On that day both of us had changed sides, on the road, for some inexplicable reason. We managed to exchange a ‘hello’ and a brief smile.

After a few days of this “wagha gate” ceremony, he stopped me one day to introduce himself. Being a bit shy I had not ventured to do the same, much earlier than this occasion.

Now, the routine was not any more a routine and few more words travelled between us. This was set to change on a particular day, when all of sudden an unannounced downpour caught both of us scurrying for shelter. The nearest hotel, where he delivers a flower sachet, offered us refuge from the rain.

A hot coffee had the effect of loosening my tongue and with a rare camaraderie, I blurted out the question, doing merry-go-rounds in my mind – “why only to some people you deliver additional flowers and that too from a separate bag?”

From his animated talk, I gathered that he owned a flower garden and after his work in the city, goes back to tend the plants. In addition, he has cultivated a nursery and keeps it open in the afternoons for prospective customers.

As the combined sales proceeds helped him to lead a peaceful life, work was the only worship he could manage.

Coming to my question, he answered, “Some get a few more flowers and some a handful of it. The few more flowers are my offerings to the prayers or poojas. The handful goes to senior citizens living in the apartments - a gesture to reassure them, as I bring flowers to their prayers, the prayers will bring them health and happiness.In fact I even don’t know why they are living alone. I am simply following my gut feelings. That is all”

The rain and the words ceased abruptly. In the ensuing silence, his words  hung heavily on my conscience.

The Reader's Newspaper

         

From the paper mills to the hands of a reader, the tabloid travels a lot – a journey starting from the forests and ending up in concrete jungles of a city.  Villages and small towns are a rare exception dotted with tress and a stream or pond lending it a more comfortable environment.

But its last meter journey is a physical torture – the delivery boys practice javelin & discus throws with tightly rolled newspaper. At least they can choose soft targets instead of concrete parapets or iron grills.

The eight column printed papyrus object, folded back to back, holds riveting attention in the morning, noon or evening, depending on the edition. The newspaper also suffers from the menace of window shopping – people gaze at the posters displayed at the vending stalls and move away – a circulation manager’s nightmare.

From the primordial era, to the present day modern setting and printing techniques, it had seen them all. It had high readership value when the collection of news was by wire services, and news travelled faster than those of the fastest means of travel at that time. 

The tag Foreign correspondent, Special correspondent & War correspondent enhanced the standing of these reporters in the society. The war correspondent was held in high esteem – his out put came from the very noses of flying bullets, arcing grenades, crashing bombs and ,of course ,from the teeth of landmines. It had space for all of them.

The newspaper enjoyed an uncontested reign for many decades and during the time of instant transmission of happenings around the world, going truly international but printed at home. These all were set to change – the climate changes came in the form of cost and competition in the form of Television News Channels.

The arrival of non-stop news channels tolled the bell louder on those newspapers that were not part of an electronic media houses. The channel owned news papers shared information available with the master and slowly entered the slave market.

The newspaper is neither intelligent nor enterprising to go “live” preferring to keep aloof to watch the TV channels scrolling and crawling with the ‘breaking news’, even though it remains the same throughout the day. It has no such freedom, once printed the news is history.

It still remains content to publish ‘panel discussions’ – substance without vocals and visuals, after walking the tight rope of editing process and calling it an excerpt. In this aspect it has failed miserably to understand that vocals and visuals add depth and dimensions to the discussion, even on a trivia. The ‘live’ news comes literally alive with sparks and charged up emotional display perilously edging towards a free-for-all, nationwide!

Some of the print houses put up a stiff fight and at the end threw in the towel. Some survived by metamorphing – changing hands or diversifying in to other activities of publishing by willingly letting The Newspaper o also to run.

Gazette and election result notifications, international, national and regional coverage, business, politics, matrimony and of course the obituary column. These are the spheres where the newspaper has some  influence, so far!

Do we have one TV channel with an obituary hour every day? The TV channels might make an exception to carry an obituary of a high & mighty or a celebrity – all in public interest!

Will it dare to broadcast that such and such persons are likely to be forced to forego   their ancestral lands in the name of nation building or a local satrap trying to hoist his image by bringing in a JV with a foreign company, claiming to unleash the non-existent employment potential in his constituency. Will they resist from ‘running campaigns’ if they cannot get any free mileage out of the whole show?

Yes, newspaper is very naïve!

In its heydays, the newspaper had multiple roles to play – as wrapper for school books, as kite material and as an important element in packing. The old newspaper found its way in to grocery shops.

The way it got neatly torn and folded in to cone shapes in packing kilograms of rice, wheat, sugar and other house- hold items or the compact packet version used in packaging of dry grapes and condiments , left the onlooker mesmerized by  the exponent of origami –though working  for a pittance.

Slowly, brown paper bags started to fight for a market share, leaving the old newspaper bewildered. Then, the plastic carry bags appeared in the market, in appealing designs. Whatever was its pristine worth, the old newspaper could not compete, sporting a villainy look, with printing scars. Pitted against attraction & reusability, it lost yet another battle in its survival.

At the end of its life time, it is unceremoniously bundled out to a vendor for cash, onions or plastic articles - it has failed to ask its beloved reader - “why”! Yet the satisfaction, that it could still play a role in these barter deals softened the fall from its perceived exalted position.

Battle weary, it is still making the rounds, in the hands of ardent fans – the habitual subscribers and vendor s alike. The newspaper continues to bring headlines to horrors, editorials to engineering feats, sports & science, discoveries and dissidence, opportunities to obituaries.

Will it survive another day to carry its own obituary??

What will be the use; it can’t even read what is printed on it!

Yes, newspaper continues to be naïve!