The silent spectator:

There is a tribe which strictly adheres to the axiom “Silence is golden” as long as it does not affect them or when it affects them. Ambivalent people, the silent spectators!

The moniker “silent spectator” could mean the attitude to external factors and or toward some of the sensory organs of a person. The objective of a silent spectator is to enjoy the excitement without active participation or remain passive when events of impact unfold in plain view.  The person remains silent due to an automated self-defense mechanism. The sole intent and purpose is to avoid further escalation, though soldiers armed to the teeth will be absent in this conflict zone. This person soon gets labelled as apathetic or a coward.

The list organisers of functions and festivals or impatient motorists honking horns or jet liners screeching overhead or personal audio devices, who let loose noise touching intolerable levels– is long and hurting. The unwanted noise that assails the eardrums deserves no sympathy, not even from those who produce it. Though the eardrums want to shout back at them, they succumb to the doubt whether the protests will be heard over and above the din that is being made.

Getting tired, the eardrums play their trump card – become partially deaf as if to extract a small revenge on the unfortunate end users. Even at this state, the eardrums have to remain a silent spectator while the white coated gentleman conducts sound tests and squarely blames the defective hearing system for a fee. With lesser noise to disturb, the eardrums wonder, “Which is fashionable – hearing aid or headphone or an ear plug?”

Next in line are the eyes. People like to read updates on cell phones, laptops and notepads on the go. In their hurry they tend to ignore or often forget reading glasses or lighting conditions or vibrations or dusty environment. The eyes literally have to jump and dance like sand particles on a percussion instrument, and weep over the updates. Paying scant concern to their eyes, people continue updating as if their very existence depends on these acts. The eyes know that these people are not going to do anything to change things but keep hurting themselves.

Back home, the tired eyes have to entertain the fagged-out minds by staying focused on the T V screens. The strained eyes would like to ask “Ok. This is your relaxation what about mine? Do they have any other option except to close their eyes on this unanswered question? They know even a cataract will not prevent these enthusiasts. The maximum the eyes can do for themselves is to let out a drop or two of tear or become bloodshot.

There are people who like to be in touch with others at any time of the day. They rival the networks in gathering, analysing and disseminating information or to pry in to another person’s life at will. In this day of instant news delivery, they even act as runners in a relay race, unmindful of the inconveniences to recipients including the silent spectator present within earshot. The spectator, with ears full of verbiage, chooses to go silent to preserve the fragile peace (guess who is calling/texting?), at home and also to steal a little peace of mind.

Morning walk and newspaper introduces another kind of a silent spectator. If lucky, this person gets to meet with a motorist driving through a one-way street at breakneck speed or jumping a red signal, inviting danger to self and other users. If unlucky, gets to read news items portraying chilling acts of terrorism, murky public life and equally bizarre global shenanigans, of course in complete silence or otherwise gets silenced by the ire of family members. Not even in a position to tackle stray dog menace in the locality, this person promptly boils over and silently forgets to act as soon as breakfast time ends. In extreme cases, this silent spectator meets with similar minded people - only to listen to their lofty opinions and forget the whole thing by lunch time. 

More often than not, logical discussions are avoided even though the points being readied are valid. Issues larger than logical arguments, forces this person - not to speak. Such people can only wishes to be out of earshot and out of sight, which may or may not be possible always!

There is a unique type of silent spectator – suffering on account of other silent spectators. Unfortunately, this forced silent spectator’s roll comes packaged as functions and obligations scripted by harmonic laws, whatever it means! All the elements of music – tune, pitch, amplitude, and frequency fail to sync with each other and the general hubbub of the background. The ordinary variety of the breed fares better in comparison with this special type.

At the end, the silent spectator starts worrying about these things: 

Why is someone snooping around and with what purpose? Why I get the feeling that this whole narrative or part of it appears familiar? Is it a reprint and if so, should I alert the narrator? Though highly agitated, considering all other factors likely to cause further disturbance decides to remain silent!

Unable to lend a voice to right over wrong, once a silent spectator, in all probability that person remains so till the end - with this additional moniker “teeth gnasher”, perhaps? Little appreciation and sympathy might be over due to the species of Silent spectator- “the stress and strain of being one is enormous, kudos brave heart”.

Dear Silent spectators, ordinary or special, do not feel that you are alone in this world. Think of the surveillance camera silently observing everything in view, on a 24 X 7 routine. For all the hard work, is it not eligible for a fitting and an elegant name? There are giants playing in super leagues – the celestial objects watching all of us from astronomical distances!  Still, anything could be worse?  

Yes. In the international level, established, funded and revered institutions there are special silent spectators. Their silence causes more harm than yours and mine, because none of them can honestly claim, to have not been a silent spectator!

Imaginch's brainstorm

 It is natural to try and unravel a mystery, when that urge takes control of the mind. It is like what antigens do. They fight till the invader is vanquished. So, what is Imaginch’s problem now? If you ask him, brace yourself, he will give you a PowerPoint presentation. His style of doing things is to impress himself as well as the hapless audience with little more fanfare.  His mission in life is to learn something and hammer with it, on unwilling heads.

Imaginch’s family members and very close friends have learnt their lessons and started to travel on bypass routes. Instead of switching off his thinking machine, this only helped to stir up more storms in his mind. Spurned, he looked at many options and ideas to fuel these storms. He willingly stayed the course to precipitate matters.

He had no dearth for inspiration - Scientists, shooting particles, on round trips in a special tunnel at unimaginable speeds to find out what happens after their head-on collisions; astro-dive into stars and nebulae; going to great depths, in hostile regions, to capture a single elusive particle. When these real scientists, living in the real world, are trying to sneak into the atoms and universe, what can an armchair researcher like him do?

He did not pose this question to anybody and so could easily decide to answer it with a "why not?" Furthermore, in his opinion no one has an exclusive right to inquire and enrich our understanding of matter or any other matter. Also, there is no bar in pursuing knowledge on subjects other than atoms and the universe. His “other than” pursuit required no grants or a chair in an academic institution. His research needed no cutting-edge tools or technology. These justifications seeded Imaginch’s current brainstorm and got it upgraded to severe cyclonic status!  

Years ago, his teachers have impressed upon him that the only way to improve the legibility of his handwriting is to keep practicing with a pencil on paper. Known for his tenacity, he still kept following his teachers’ advice. He armed himself with pencils, erasers, sharpeners and of course ruled A4 sheets thinking, “Who knows, at least the handwriting might become better, at the end?”

He discarded the scientific quests so as not to interfere with their progress- made or being made. Time and again, he had failed to understand the possibility that multiple dimensions exist in the Universe. To make the matter worse, the existence of a multiverse doing the rounds did not help any! He chose not to get deeply involved in these potential quagmires. His reason was simple – more dimensions cause more confusion.

Chronic vertigo prevented him from even climbing a ladder; leave alone the trek into deep space! One thing that still troubled him the most was Einstein’s "magic" - curving of space-time. On a practical level, he did not feel the effect of heavy mass bending space-time, when fully loaded cargo trucks rushed by kicking up only a cloud of airborne dust.

The combination of this confusing "magic" coupled with his failure to comprehend the “trick “started to agitate his brain cells with Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. Not out of the urge to help him, but due to the painful fact that they will be blamed for not comprehending Einstein! When they could not do mind-bending, how would they grasp space-time curving?! Unmindful of his brain cell’s reluctance, he decided to take a tentative step, in his spare time of almost 18 hours in a day - give or take a few minutes.

Letting things go by or not getting ridiculed are not in his DNA. Taking a philosophical outlook, he pacified his misgivings - his attempts would definitely help others to keep their eyes open. Armed with this determination and writing materials, he sat down to contemplate on the proposal: Lifetime -Space-Time. By a master stroke he avoided adding any new dimension (what is fear of dimension called? Can anybody clarify?). He did not forget to invoke and obtain a tacit permission from Einstein to travel in the relativistic train, which he vaguely remembered to have heard about it.

Riding piggyback, he expected the fallout to be of lesser ridicule – at least Einstein had acceptance. He became so obsessed; a collection of neurons and mathematical equations started a St. Vitus’s dance in his mind. Unfortunately, he could not capture these dance moves on paper and his agitated mind added some more neurons and equations to test his perseverance.

Everyone experiences feelings such as sympathetic, apathetic and neutral but with differing perceptions. Maybe by oversight, Einstein might have slipped down here. Precisely that is why Imaginch wanted to delve into it!  Right or wrong, he believed - so far no one has produced a scientific work on these perspectives. He decided an ideal concept for his path breaking work would be to combine the states of minds’ interactions with space-time. After all, the states of mind are also part of this universe- including Einstein’s! If anyone points out, it is all relative - he was ready with the reckoner. Einstein who had already travelled that path using "relativity"!

Imaginch n laid the foundation, on which to build upon his work, starting with a theory and explanation of it from a hypothetical perspective (too early to go personal here). He titled the proposed research paper “Lifetime-Space-Time” and liked the nice ring it had.

Still not out of the woods, doubts arose in his mind like dry leaves taking flight in gusts of wind. Imaginch worried about the ridicule he would have to face. Which Scientist's ideas and concepts have not been ridiculed prematurely, in the past? This thought had the calming effect and decided to bide his time to take them head-on at an opportune moment.

He decided to look for convincing arguments to build the structure of his soon to-become-famous theory. To prove his theory or to disagree with it is somebody else’s headache. This reasoning helped to weaken his inner resistance and to obey his will. Now, he had the example for active perception and passive perceptions. This combined force propelled him onward. This threatened to overrun and smother the remnant resistances- in -hiding and catalysed the mind’s survival instinct, to capitulate and surrender – the neutral perception.

These real-life experiences invigorated and electrified his body and mind. At this stage, what any other scientist would have done – solitary walks in the park? He decided to give it a try hoping a long walk would flood his mind with inspiration to further embellish the discovered “raw diamond” – to help it to sparkle!

On and off, a stray thought also entered his thinking. His brown matter, becoming tired of getting flexed, squeezed and battered, decided to go on the offensive. It triggered the biological clock to go to deep sleep-exactly when he had a fleeting glimpse of a brilliant idea. However he toiled, he could not ignite a spark or a fire to enlighten him.

At times, he slipped into a semi-sleep state, voluntarily. Perplexed family members chose not to disturb him, fearing the nuisance value. Imaginch realised what was happening and decided to use this ruse to gather family-talks, which always ended up blaming him for this or that, whether relevant or irrelevant to the subject matter discussed.

Unwittingly, they have given him an insight – emotional stress. This stress was as important as gravitational stress on the fabric of space-time. Stretching the parallel, he could visualise the effect of emotional stress on “Lifetime”!

Statements and arguments flowed. He put them on paper, carefully clothed in confusing sentences. If a theory could be understood by a casual reading, then it is not worth the paper it is written or printed on. What dismayed and gladdened him, at the same time, was the sight of a growing stack of papers. He was confident that from a bigger stack of draft papers, he would be able to dig out his gem - like a diamond inside a diamond! He took careful measures to safeguard the stack under a heavy paper weight and still refraining from switching on the ceiling fan!

When will he finish the final draft? 

Ten minutes and change....

The Earth rotates on its axis, nearly by 278 km; goes around the sun by 17,833 km.  A human being could cover about 680m. This is what happens in 10 minutes. Imaginch could have cited many more examples but did not want the reader to get distracted and spend more than ten minutes here. 

In this agitated frame of mind, he skipped to mention the reason, leaving the task of decoding to someone else. Imaginch has a hotwired and mercurial temper. And with his dog - finds – the- rag cloth approach, he takes an issue with anything and everything. When this occurred, words liberally dripping with sarcasm search for targets. He did not realise that relationships are built on delicate feelings balanced on knife edges and are damaged by his outbursts. Unmindful, he pilots his train on the chosen single track. 

The “someone else” who had the key to decode this nature happened to be an elder of the house. He had this to say, "trying to do many things; does not know how to go about it; demands acceptance and loses control”. The elder further elaborated with an example: Imaginch’s hotwired brain is primed to go on an instant thought travel. The moment he starts a journey, he would like to reach the destination and list what all he should do there. As an added insurance, he would plan his return trip too! Except fretting, fuming and nail-biting nothing like that happens other than a travel at a traffic-choked pace. At this state, the button to let out the mercurial temper needs only an accidental push. 

Yet, something more was missing to paint the full picture. Armed with the insight provided by the elder, the next “someone else” decided to continue with the process of decoding. - one of Imaginch’s preferred project assistants. This assistant hoped to succeed based on – (1) being unhappy about being drafted forcefully to assist and (2) an interesting exercise in place of the tasked projects which got nowhere. The assistant resorted to secretly observe the subject, sidelining assigned tasks. Others too did the same. Many minds focused on one subject inevitably threw up many conclusions.  

Reviewing them together they were shocked into disbelief – how so many sublevels could hide behind this persona? Given the complexity, they 'tearfully' decided that, like peeling the onion, they would have to probe layer by layer or split their hairs one by one! As it happens in life, Imaginch was unaware of these clandestine attempts to decode him! One of the slightly bright minded assistants convinced the others to go for a further consultation with the elder. He pointed out that they got only the synopsis from him but should get to read the full text!  

The elder was happy to oblige and said, “Imaginch is afflicted with DIY, IMO, IMHO and FOMO syndromes”. Even the slightly bright minded assistant looked lost in the woods. The elder’s cryptic answer was worse than a nightmare - the assistants resembled the confused deer caught in the headlight of an automobile. Having come thus far, they hoped a thorough explanation would follow and decided to sit through it, however bizarre it might sound. 

Why Imaginch has a hotwired mind and mercurial temper? The elder pulled out the “IMO & DIY” markers to explain the hotwired mind. For their benefit, he explained “IMO” means “in my opinion” and “DIY” is “do it yourself”. Imaginch believes in “do it yourself “and to back up his decision he comes out with “in my opinion” arguments. Confusion written all over their faces, the assistants scrambled their brains to help them understand. 

The squirming assistants braced themselves for the next twister, which they expected to come anytime soon. Once started speaking, the elder never paused until he came to the end of his explanation. The elder exhorted them to remember about “IMHO” & “FOMO” and explained it as “in my humble opinion” and “fear of missing out” respectively. When facing a roadblock, Imaginch defends himself with “in my humble opinion” arguments to hide his "fear of missing out” on the help of others. In all, he acts like an inexperienced driver pressing the accelerator instead of hitting the brakes. The elder intoned in a dry voice that could have easily put an insomniac to sleep. The assistants now had to fight against more confusion and drowsiness. 

Unknown to these assistants, Imaginch suspected some shenanigan going on behind his back. He tightened his vigil and prowled like a predator looking for the next meal. When he met with his assistants, their dazed look was more revealing than an open book. He knew who was behind this and yet he would not dare to confront him- the elder could read him like a psychic. Was the talk show they were attending more important than reviewing the projects and discussing additional inputs?

He was about to lose his cool but instead, took deep breaths to calm down. Then he asked them, “Do you believe in whatever the elder said? My personality is more complex than that. I make do with whatever I have, and you all should learn to cope up with what you get". Before leaving, he asked them to go to the top of this page, spend ten minutes and read the opening paragraph. He left them to wonder now what - "back to the elder for guidance or tag along with Imaginch"?

Sorry, Sir we will take care..

During his college days, his class suffered the misfortune of a typical lecturer for a difficult subject. The lecturer exhibited the perfect exhibition of ambidextrous skill - using chalk by the right-hand and duster by the left-hand to wipe away without a pause. This virtuoso act managed to keep the students in perpetual confusion. The students did not get to see a word of the written matter. In place of the students, the blackboard enjoyed free education and a facelift! 

To lessen the impact of these ‘write-erase’ lectures, the students opted to spend their time productively, to combat the resulting boredom. They researched and brought out a seminal work, “Types, classification and genetic determination of posterior craniums”.  Left with little or no energy, they did not attempt to look for a more grandiose looking title -based on Latin, Greek or any other exotic language! Final year exams looming large, some of the students even suggested leaving this avenue open for further exploration to the next batch. In their view, such lecturers neither will retire soon nor change their method of teaching. This left a burning desire in Imaginch’s mind, that if at all, he would become a better teacher. 

This experience was an eye opener.  Imaginch did not want to take it in his stride. He thought, "Why not I do something to smoothen the pitfalls in getting an education".  He chuckled to himself and thought about it as a noble idea! He methodically honed his skills, crammed his mind with information on many subjects, to become a teacher. To deal with difficult concepts, he wanted to use scale models as visual aids. In his opinion it brought fun and clarity to the subject matter. Slowly and steadily, he was inching towards his goal – to become a practical teacher. 

Eagerly he waited for an opportunity. As it often happens in life, his dream gave way to reality, and it swept him away into a different career stream. Years rolled by. His son and daughter were climbing up the education ladder. Though explicitly they did not seek his help, Imaginch unilaterally volunteered, as he could not keep his ambition bottled up forever. Literally he snatched the chance to wear the mantle of a teacher. 

The “recap” classes began whenever he and his children were free. Impromptu improvisations, frivolous points from their textbooks and novel examples chosen were way beyond their requirement and comprehension. Confused looks invited even more elaborate explanations. After enduring the ordeal for some days, the children coolly developed an evasive manoeuvre  to end the session as soon as possible. They simply put upon a bright face and an all-knowing smile. Holidays were not any different. They could only envy the other children who enjoyed holidays with fun and games. 

The ‘all study and no fun’ policy of their father made them unhappy and sore.  Growing tired of the constant barrage in the guise of parental help, they even thought of appealing to the school administration, not to schedule holidays.  On the sidelines the brother and sister decided to-do something that could permanently close down the home-tuition center. Approaching classmates for ideas was discussed and discarded as a bad move. Direct approach promised an uncertain outcome – more of the classes or much more of the classes. It was trouble in capital letters. Out of their dilemma, a gem of an idea emerged. By running the idea under various scanners, they concluded – yeah, let us give it a try. 

Children started interacting with doubts and sought more and more clarifications. Imaginch was not blind to these subtle changes, his children started showing. He felt proud that his practical teaching methods has started yielding dividends.  Though once in a while, the inkling that something else was at play rose and fell in his mind. With term exams round the corner, he shifted his entire focus on it. He impressed on them, “It is important to be able to explain clearly whatever you have understood and don’t hesitate to bring it out” A few days later, two stacks of corrected answer papers greeted him, standing testimony for the children’s grasp and his teaching skill. 

With a triumphant smile, he started to go through them. He was surprised to not that papers relating to subjects he revised exhaustively were missing, in both the stacks. He knew- his son and daughter would not deliberately withhold them. Then what was the issue-this nagging unease started to worry him. The children did not say anything on their own, waiting for him to make the first move. Imaginch broke the ice at dinner time. The children dropped the bombshell - informed him that the teachers wanted to meet with him. The rest of dinner time passed in impregnable silence. Wearing a worried look, Imaginch  called it a day. Having unloaded their burden, the children too quietly withdrew from the scene. 

The next day at school, Imaginch endured an agonising wait. The teachers had classes to attend to. Finally, when they made their appearance, he felt nervous. The silently slid two stacks of withheld test papers in front of him. Growing anxiety and confusion replacing the earlier agony, he glanced through them.  Not to prolong the suspense, one of the teachers said, “Do you know why no marks have been awarded? The kids have been doing well and suddenly why this sort of elaborate and out of syllabus answers? Would you please enlighten us? Another teacher added, “Test papers help us to assess the comprehension of the student and it is important to fine tune outreaching. Sorry sir, we will   take care of them, if you don’t mind”. Then the teachers took time to award and total the marks scored without any further conversation. Imaginch understood the unspoken, subtle hint- “hands off”.

He returned home realizing his role in parenting – not to inject himself into the teaching profession. He admired his children for not having openly blamed him and the ingenious way they chose to send a silent message. Though he felt like coming out of storm clouds wondering, “Was there a need for my teaching?” 

Mr. 1% Scientist

For some reason, his grandchildren have started calling him Mr. 1% Scientist. He was dumbfounded and confused in equal measures. Because it was a brand-new moniker and they never used the prefix "Mr", ever before, while addressing him with one of their many “pet” names.

Exuding innocence and dripping with satire, they lobbed this verbal grenade in his direction, “Grandpa do you know, a car mechanic either bends over the engine block or slides under the chassis to locate and rectify the problem!” It was saddening to realise that as a mechanic in the example, he did not even deserve a hydraulic platform for the work!

To teach them the value of perseverance, he had been constantly narrating stories on the failures and struggles of scientists, inventors and pathfinders who then went on to achieve greater things. His current state of affair was due to this over enthusiasm and must have been in the making in their mind, for some time. Imaginch  had only himself to blame. The deeply buried guilt - nothing good had come out of his education or professional experience, surfaced to torment him with a derisive smirk- which he only could feel.

To further electrify their imaginative minds, he chose to dwell upon the trials and tribulations that Edison endured, to finally light up an electric bulb. He rued his failure to highlight the other life-changing inventions, leaving an impression in their minds that Edison did not do anything beyond the bulb. What worried Imaginch the most was “these anecdotes meant to guide them in the future did not make much of an impression on them”.

So, the children conveniently concluded that whoever attempted and failed many times, chasing a one in a hundred chance type success qualified for a moniker. To distinguish from Edison, they came up with the moniker “Mr.1% Scientist”, as a private joke. In one fell swoop, they put him on an express lift shooting up to the hundredth floor and placed him on a pedestal near Mr. Edison. Maybe for a friendly chat or as a means to knock him down. He understood the bitter truth, rather belatedly.

Imaginch was exasperated and at his wits end. This moniker became a nightmare and brought up unpleasant memories of his own failings. “I will have to think of something or otherwise, I will lose everything”. This is not about a business venture going red and south, but his locus standi as a know-all and do-all. With no control to switch off or postpone, he frantically searched for ways to tackle this monster head-on.

One thing became crystal clear from these taunts – a new invention or   writing an original research paper would do for a starter. But his sanity prevailed by pointing out “You never had that drive when in prime, so why talk about some patents and steady flow of ideas now; not a winner but what about a place in the also ran category?” Imaginch understood the implications of this reality check and accepted the painful verdict - like a prey coming face to face with a skilled hunter.

At this juncture, his grandchildren, sweet and mischievous kids, offered an opening and dumped a heap of unserviceable toy collections onto his lap, literally! Their body language silently challenged him to succeed at least in this endeavour. Not to be intimidated by this approach, he hastily assembled the tools and started to marshal the required working knowledge in structural, mechanical and electronic principles. Of course, behind their back and prying eyes.                                                   

This proved frustrating to the aged grey cells of his brain. Their summer vacation and constant presence added heat to the straining neuron bundles. He burnt electric bulbs instead of the proverbial midnight oil- in memory of the Father of electric bulb. Yet the silver lining was a little alone time - from time to time the children were busy giving company to the family TV!

The condensed version of his attempts, failures and despair read like this:

The innovative glues and materials he selected to heal the structural damages resulted in additional broken pieces. Mechanical toys exhibited their own dislike to his handling and refused to get repaired. Improvised repairs carried out on Remote Control toys ended up in a wisp of smoke or run amuck at crazy angles only to crash and break, announcing yet another bunch of failures. His hindsight did not fail to strike the nail squarely on its head - could you have not resisted the temptation of using the express lift and a seat on the pedestal, alongside Edison? Imaginch could only fumble and failed to come up with an answer.

On the day of reckoning, with a sad face he told them, “Yes. It looks like I have failed”. With confidence level nose diving, he was blindsided and did not see the sucker punch coming his way!   The children, eyes twinkling with spark of mischief said, "You are a genius at conjuring up failures. Better luck next time". They silently left the room, not bothering to look at the heap of unrepaired toys.

 He belatedly understood, after the grandchildren left home, that they knew the toys were unserviceable and their grandpa would not be able to make them work. Moniker or not, it was a devastating experience, worse than the accumulating guilt for not having done anything useful.

Yamadharmaraj survives.

This time around, with odds heavily stacked against him will he be able to wiggle out? Only time or Brahma can tell! These two sentences haunted Yamadharmaraj like ghosts in graveyards. He was well aware; no amount of self-incrimination would melt the ice-cold heart of his Boss.

Brahma kept ignoring him and his best friend Chitragupta avoided him, preferring Brahma’s company in extended meditation sessions. He rued his fault in relieving Chitragupta from official work and now, he cannot take action against him for deserting his workstation. He had further complicated the matter by intimating Brahma about the flagrant absenteeism.  He wanted to keep Brahma in the loop as Chitragupta did. It had backfired. The chasm of distrust kept widening, and the threat of isolation loomed large. He cussed himself.

The never-ending threat posed by the blackmailing nerds popped up often. The nerds granted with a new lease on life, started hanging around and once in a while floated across his path, mischievously.  This game of cloak and dagger was slowly becoming unbearable. Becoming paranoid, he thought the nerds had switched sides to stalk and spy on him.

Becoming desperate and desolate, he vigorously raked his brain to find a quick exit. Would he be forced to serve under Chitragupta? How to get back into Brahma’s good books? Will Chitragupta bury the hatchet for old time’s sake? Can he call in some favours from nerds? Taking stock of everything, he decided on carpet-bombing all the three. Who knows, from which tree the fruit will fall?

With emerging clarity, a rarity from his currently befuddled mind, he sat down to draft a plan of action. Now and then he looked around to check that none of the nerds were hanging around. Already a sub plan was poking its head to take care of these nosey nerds, but for later - after extracting some useful work from them.  He mused, “Why to show your hand even before the play commences?”

He chose, remembering in time that Brahma has four heads, to appeal to each one of them, separately. He fancied his chance of evoking sympathetic feelings, if only to confuse and yet strike a conciliatory chord in one of them. A small victory was better than a zero outcome. Brahma occupying a higher plane of consciousness might not be vindictive. With hope, he prepared his batch appeals in four formats- innocence, ignorance, ineptitude and guilt.

Unsure about what appeal to be submitted to which head, he invited the nerds to play a random game, to match - innocence, ignorance, ineptitude and guilt with the right receptive head. To help them along, he dumped a heap of notes he had laboriously compiled “journals” on Brahma’s heads. He did not give them any identifying clues. Feeling relieved of their hanging presence, at least for the time being, he left them alone.

The moment Yamadharmaraj started his “journals”, Brahma initiated protective measures, to defeat and confuse the compiler. He chose an asynchronous random switch mechanism to generate thoughts in one head and acted upon them from another head.  Brahma was eagerly waiting for the day to match his wit with the skill of any hacker!  

The nerds collated, manipulated and redacted data to get an overall picture. They had this nagging inkling - the thought threads running through the extracted document clearly pointed to a single identity. It did not take them long to make an educated guess.  Beyond this point, their analytical tools simply raised their bits and bytes in defeat. Taking an easy way out, they presented arbitrarily matched profiles to mask their failure. To lend weight to their conclusion, they decided to demand some more waivers – at least another fifty years of life extension. With nothing more to lose or gain, they decided not to milk the cow beyond its udder capacity.

Yamadharmaraj felt an accidental meeting - side by side or face to face, with Chitragupta might rekindle empathy in his long-time friend and associate. Somehow, the wall of meditation had to be breached. He preferred to catch up with Chitragupta and surprise him, near Brahma’s residence. Searching for a suitable tool, he chanced upon the nerds and asked them to hang around there and alert him when Chitragupta came out. He waited anxiously for the message and kept cursing the Time for standing still.

Lying in wait, he saw Chitragupta’s side profile and then moved out of hiding to stand in front of him. His long-time friend looked straight and right through his soul, making him wonder, “Oh, what a great fall I have had”. He decided to give his prepared speech, whether Chitragupta heard it or not. “Friend, I need your help”.

Chitragupta, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in his friend’s ‘august’ company, curtly asked him, “What do you want?” Yamadharmaraj blurted out, “I have four exquisitely crafted metal capsules. I want your help in ranking them in the order of your preference. Will you come to my residence now?” He did not tell Chitragupta that the capsules have engraved appeals to Brahma.

To get it over with as soon as possible, Chitragupta agreed to play along. He declined the offered food and beverages and wanted to get straight to work. He saw the capsules kept on a table supported by bones of animal legs. Cured leather tags with numbers 1 to 4 were placed near the capsules to be ranked. Showing scorn and disinterest, Chitragupta briefly gazed at the capsules, just picked up tags and placed them in front of them, without rhyme or reason. He did not want to waste any more of his energy, unnecessarily.

Yamadharmaraj thanked his friend profusely, tried to pat him on the back which was promptly rejected by Chitragupta. Though taken aback by this reaction, he did not want to linger on the insult, to see his friend off. Then taking a deep breath, he transmitted the appeals to Brahma to the respective heads, as chosen by nerds and in sequence selected by his friend. There was no way for him to know that Brahma and the nerds have already played their tricks on him.

Brahma finally decided to restore “status quo ante” much against his wisdom. He had sufficiently briefed Chitragupta about the pecking order Vis a Vis unbreakable divine rules. Appreciating his conscious integrity in not exposing the buried secret plans of Yamadharmaraj, advised Chitragupta to attend official works.

Though a brief ray of disappointment flashed across his face, he agreed to do so. Why not give it a spin? He knew that his constant presence in the workstation would drive Yamadharmaraj’s guilt deeper and deeper. Maybe this could be his chance to change Yama into a better Boss! 

Yam Lok revisited

Acts of anger has consequences. In his agitated frame of mind, Yamadharmaraj did not pause to think about it. He kept goading his ride to go faster and faster. The poor beast bearing the brunt of his anger, stumbled and regained its balance, all the while galloping. But this minor change made its hefty master to dangerously sway from side to side and in the process.... He did not even get an inkling that somebody might be watching.

Chitragupta found himself beyond the boundaries of frustration. He fumed at anything and everything around him, including his tormentor-boss, Yamadharmaraj. He had detected massive data loss and corrupted data in the latest B & D diary delivered to him. The projected birth rate went deep below South while death count shot up beyond celestial North. The displayed graph on his monitor mesmerised and scared him at the same time. He painstakingly verified the data sets and sent a red alert to his Boss, detailing possible unknown factors at play. If only he had listened to his early warnings and acted upon them.... Chitragupta released a long sigh.

He decided to keep Brahma also in the loop. He did not believe in "the buck stops here" and dutifully passed the buck upstairs to Yamadharmaraj Raj and Brahma. When the maelstrom starts to churn, the corridors will be flooded with litters of bruised egos - Chitragupta mused and paced. This wholesome mess resembled a stock market crash due to induced short-seller activity.

The red alert had its desired effect and set many events in motion. 

Brahma took to twiddling with his beard and simultaneously scratching his head in search of a plausible explanation. He cursed himself for the nanosecond inattention which might have lead to this fiasco. Falling hairs, bruised cranium and red eyes did not help. From the depths of deep meditation, he mentally reviewed the data to spot the errors. Every now and then he sent reassuring messages to Chitragupta, hoping to keep him on his side till such time the errors get corrected. He had the confidence that if any short cut existed, Chitragupta would certainly find and take advantage of it.

In spite of Brahma’s misplaced confidence, tallying the ledger at Yam Lok took a hit and all the blames were laid on Chitragupta's head. The traditional book-keeping process didn't measure up to the task dumped on him. Chitragupta was well aware that the Ledger entries cannot be made unless the missing data get updated - a faux pas! This prevented surreptitious entries and deletions –to guarantee transparency and tamper-proof. His problem was to circumvent this SOP which prevented employing any shortcuts. His boss simply lifted his hands and allowed Chitragupta a freefall into discredit and disgrace. 

Not the one to be intimidated easily, Chitragupta hit upon a brilliant idea. The more he thought about the idea, more and more he liked it. The beauty lay in its simplicity, and he knew where the needed resources hung -the ABED (Arrived Before Expiry date) cyber nerds! Rounding up and briefing them took tact and skillful handling. The speed with which this happened even surprised him, but little did he know that the nerds agreed to work expecting a "reprieve". 

Chitragupta prided himself for beating the system with modern technology to create a parallel electronic ledger, omitting the missing data of the old ledger. When completed he could convince his boss and Brahma on the merits of the new compilation, after painting a frightening bleak picture for their respective careers. He felt lightheaded and elated at the furious pace with which the nerds gobbled up data and set the ledger pages filling like piling of debt of nations on Earth. He even grudgingly appreciated Brahma for the vote of confidence in his abilities, which he had vetoed earlier as wishful thinking! 

Along with the red alert, the clandestine activities in and around Chitragupta’s workspace pinged, tingled and almost singed Yamadharmaraj’s survival antenna. Like an enraged bull he strode in, surveying, stunned and gasping for breath (lack of exercise!). He went on hyper-ventilation when he caught sight of an army of nerds, literally hanging over terminals, busily creating electronic records. A wistful smile started playing around the corners of his mouth. 

Chitragupta, who was disturbed by this dramatic entry, knew the reason for the smile. It made him to hate his boss even more. Why would he not? This ABED idea was his brainchild but owing to the superior position Yamadharmaraj would unabashedly adopt it as “his own”. Ever the optimist, Chitragupta counted his blessings too: Now Yamadharmaraj will fight tooth and nail for acceptance of the parallel ledger. The problem is getting solved without putting his head on the chopping block. A soothing bandage is all that is now required to heal his wounded pride. This is livable and better than loss of position. 

Yamadharmaraj decided to enhance his odds, to bask alone in the glory of success, was hunting for an idea to send-off Chitragupta for a while from the scene. A million-watt glow blinked in his mind like a pulsar. Even for his enormous brain, the wattage of the pulsating glow appeared to be on the higher side. He sidled up to Chitragupta and engaged him in small talk and gave him two options. "Use my office for a few days and I will take care of the Ledger work" or you tour the nooks and corners of our domain, of course with heavenly entitlements during travel". Chitragupta knew to spot a snake even when it is not hissing. He opted to use this second choice to further his own elevation, without seriously plotting his boss's downfall. 

Yamadharmaraj did not realise that he had happily walked into a field where mines are primed-and ready to explode. 

During one of his deep meditation, Brahma could dig out the root cause for the current turmoil. Yamadharmaraj, in a fit of anger goaded and urged his ride to go faster and faster. The heavily laden beast tried to comply with his master's bidding, though foam and froth started streaming from the nostrils like a comet tail. In an instant of inattention, Yama let loose some pages of the B&D diary. Unwittingly and inadvertently the hind legs of the beast trod over, rendering them useless. Updating of the main ledger came to a standstill due to the anti-tamper protocol. He decided to put Yamadharmaraj on the mat at the appropriate time!

Chitragupta, though upset, immediately sensed a positive outcome. Getting a free pass to roam at will - a chance to dig around buried secrets, with which he could twist Yamadharmaraj for future favours. In addition, letting his tyrant boss to sit through the tedious updating process would be ample   compensation for his ruffled feathers. He mused, "Who knows, I might even get a shot at his exalted post as and when an opportunity arises". In this frame of mind, he left his office without even bothering to take leave from his boss. Chitragupta gleefully, counted his lucky stars. 

Without much effort, he stumbled upon a rich cache’. A half-heartedly buried capsule beckoned him to take a peek. With a wry smile he mumbled to himself- what else did I expect from the lazy bones of my boss! Only he is capable of such an ill-thought-out scheme, which not even a newborn baby would think off, to usurp powers from Brahma! Now things became clear to him as to why the current mess has been created in the first place. 

During the extensive briefing by nerds, Yamadharmaraj let his mind wander among various forms of limelight that will bathe him in glory after submitting his project completion report. He failed to understand the significance and the intelligent trap laid by the nerds when they said,” You as the chief would be the only System administrator and one of us would have to log in to the ledger software”. Yamadharmaraj was totally blinded by his own imagined ‘basking in multiple’ lime lights. What all that mattered to him was the fact that Chitragupta had been sidelined. He envisioned the grudging smile playing on all the four faces of Brahma! Little did he realise that this self-glory picture he is busy painting would be hung in his memory to haunt him forever!

At this same instant, behind his back, the nerds too smiled for a different reason. They managed to form a caucus and hatched a scheme to avenge and benefit from the monumental error committed by Yamadharmaraj. They left a backdoor programme which automatically pops up with a randomly selected name from among the ABED nerds. Unless that nerd also signs in, the system will not respond and open the ledger. Till sign-in is completed, a warning message "do not attempt to alter the popup menu - the system will crash and go up in smoke" will keep flashing on the screen. 

After sufficiently softening him, they planned to make their demands - 

1. They get back to human forms till the day of the final judgement.

2. They get the right to decide the nature of punishment on that day!

3. Nobody would boss over them except the good natured Chitragupta! 

The nerds on second thoughts added one more point:

As an exemplary punishment, they should be given immunity from ageing and death for another hundred years.

Now they have found a taser gun and bullet points. They would fire at Yamadharmaraj to give him the shock of his “life-taking” life! 

In the past, Yamadharmaraj had managed to ward off the mounted attacks with deft handling – meaning doing lot of wriggle manoeuvres. This time around, with odds heavily stacked against him will he be able to wiggle out? Only time or Brahma can tell!

Nostrils flaring and eyeballs popping out of their sockets, Yamadharmaraj surfaced into the present from a deep meditation. Frantically he searched for and found Chitragupta diligently working on the familiar B&D ledger. Still, holding his breath he cast his eyes from the floor to the ceiling searching for the nerds. He found no one floating or hanging down.

He silently cursed himself for his foolishness to emulate Brahma's meditation techniques which nearly took the life out of him. He sensed Chitragupta's inquiring eyes on him which again gave him a fright. Gathering courage, he simply smiled apologetically at Chitragupta!

The word speaks!

Since the first cry of human beings occurred a very long time ago, there are certain logical boxes that need inspection. Who let out the first cry - newborn, toddler, child, adult and which gender?  Who tutored it- nature, animals or birds? Did the cry was pre-recorded in the building blocks of the human being? In the absence of a definite clue, the un-ticked logic boxes point to unknown origins and baffle today’s perspective.

Countless millennia ago, the first human cry split the air on this planet earth. It became an audio-word. Like "doctors sans frontiers" it was a word without alphabets. With focus only on survival – hunting and gathering food or defending against enemies, the early inhabitants stopped with what today we call as phonics!  Guided by evolutionary pressure, they jumped the alphabet queue to invent verbal-verbs, combining sound and hand signals. In this fashion, human beings and their rudimentary vocabulary of audio-words evolved. Many millennia later, they tried their hands in pictorial representations.  With no pressure to explicitly bring out their socio-cultural leanings, the seeds to grow a nascent crop of alphabets took some time to plant.

The labour of countless minds, hands and assorted writing mediums- from granite to papyrus, resulted in crude forms of alphabets.  Probably, thinking that a group might stand a good chance of survival, with bargaining power, they devised a clever scheme - vowels and consonants. This grouping gave them a choice to choose an article as a friend to (usher) lead them.

Still afraid of the unknown, the alphabets decided to combine in as many random ways as possible to live in safety. This cocktail of alphabets, in any language, gave birth to words. Then, its life got a little complicated as dictated by etymology, spelling and phonics. Sensing the danger of having limited utility as a verb or noun or number, the stand-alone words decided to admit pronouns, adjectives, adverbs into their fold. Imaginatively, they added many hyphenated words and even bent their backs to get contracted, abbreviated as acronyms and initials or ‘clipping’ to increase their utility value.  Acquiescing to be governed by syntax, grammar; they opted for a group defense strategy!

At this point, there was no other choice except walking through the gates marked – 1st, 2nd and 3rd person, and degrees of comparison and gender indicators, idioms and phrases, punctuation marks and so on to become a sentence- simple, complex and compound! What could they do? These rules governing the formation of sentences infringed upon their freedom, but did they not find safety now!

The newly minted sentences marveled at the transformation and happy to have punctuation marks for company, which are powerful enough to stop them in their stride. After stocking and packing these essentials, the journey of sentences began with -beginners and masters, toddlers and teachers, poets and professionals. The words are proud to be associated with the works of professionals – everyday they come out with acronyms!Looking back, from the first cry to this day, the growth of their vocabulary has taken phenomenal. They are eagerly waiting with hope for someone to coin a new word to express their light-year wide smile! The word had no way to guess that foreign words might have infiltrated or some of its own might have done the same!

Though shackled with many constraints, they have found a way to put the gag order on the user. There are etiquettes governing their usage. It is the ingenious tale of twisting the tail and taming the tiger! The written or spoken words are ticking bombs primed to go. The word power gets unleashed, limited only by the imaginative way they are used. The once powerless words now could wield power; emotionless words describing bravery and cowardice, joy and sadness, hope and despair, compassion and cruelty and go histrionic to leave a reader in tears. If used without weighing the consequences - differences become conflicts; a glib talk to deceive in deceit; a war cry leading to destruction and despair. A Container gives shape to liquids; thoughts and language are shaped by the user.

Unwittingly, the early humans might have anticipated this potential hazard and happily conducted their survival business with only the phonics! It seems that the first cry has fallen into deaf ears!

Everyone is the hero in his/her story. The word is a hero in everyone's story.  The first words came from wilderness and today we will be in wilderness without words!

The shelter

What would you have done, if one telephone call can cause a lot of confusion; and on top of it , if the caller declined to identify himself and as a teaser promised to call you up in person, by noon that very day? Imaginch did exactly what you would have done. He dropped his jaws, newspaper and in the process spilled some hot coffee on the newspaper. Usually, he ended such calls from unknown numbers without second guessing. But this time he did not do so, as the voice on the other end sounded friendlier and familiar. Everything happened before he could decide to end the call as per his usual practice. 

He looked at the clock and it was not even seven in the morning. Letting his mind do its homework, of identifying the face from the voice of the caller. Albums gathering dust got a chance to breath some fresh air. He went about his routines regretting that a photographic memory was never his strong point. During the identification parade his mind tripped on its overload relay and dark for a considerable time. This worried Imaginch furthermore, as noon was fast approaching. 

Oblivious to the master's frustration, the wall-clock dutifully chimed in sync with the buzzer fixed on the opposite wall. Imaginch's mind stopped the photo identification process as though it was eagerly waiting for the buzzer to ring to end its misery! For all his frustrations and wasted efforts, he came face to face with the person who stood at the doorstep - a total stranger. Seeing the questioning look, the visitor said, “Can I come in and explain?” 

Feeling a little relief, Imaginch nodded his head and said,” Sorry, I had trouble in identifying you, when you called in the morning. Come on in and have a seat”. Before explaining the purpose of your visit, can you tell me how you got my number?  Why did he not call me directly instead of making you do it? How and where did you meet him? 

Who else could have? I got it from your childhood friend! To avoid embarrassment, he thought this would be a better way! I have been visiting old age homes to engage with the inmates. And in one such place I met him. 

“OK, did my friend tell you why the need for seeing me? Though bothered to know the whereabouts of his friend, Imaginch could not refrain from asking the visitor, “In what capacity did you meet him? Are you a trained counsellor?” 

The visitor held up his hands with a smile indicating a brief summary is on the way. “No, sir. I do it on my own as sort of a social responsibility. I am a professional who travels a lot. During these trips I get to meet many people. Some share a bit of their broken life. Over months I had collected a lot of bits and pieces of information. I started to assemble them to make sense out of it all. From the collected information, the inmates fell into (1) some found it inconvenient to adjust (2) some were looked upon as burdens and (3) some had none to take care. Hope this answers your first question on my capacity!

Without sounding like a lecturer, he explained that in everyday life, all of us have to make a little compromise. Sometimes, looking at things with a different perspective might solve many adjustment problems. When near and dear feel that you have become a burden, then think of ways to lessen their worries. Set priorities and preferences are two ends of a twine that always falls short to meet. On a narrow bridge, giving the other person a choice to traverse first will invariably get you the green signal to cross over first. If you consider the pressure factor of today’s working atmosphere, you will readily agree to revisit and compromise. There is nothing called permanent, everything is dynamic, including mutual likes and dislikes. This is how I ended up doing these rounds. Hope you are satisfied on the counseling part?

This absorbing narrative took Imaginch by total surprise. He never thought about the issues of old and young, in a family to this day. No need to - because he himself has declared time and again about his selfishness. With genuine admiration, he decided to at least inquire with the visitor – “did anything positive happen because of your efforts?”  Imaginch felt tht this question sounded more like first aid medication to appease his bruised conscience. 

The visitor again smiled and said,” Initially all were skeptical. As my visits became periodical, the inmates hesitantly asked for assistance. We carefully planned the approach with family members of senior citizens. This took some doing, to overcome resistance and guilt. In good time, some of the inmates went back into their family fold. Those who had none got assurance that they will have regular visitors from their former inmates". With admiration overflowing in his eyes, Imaginch looked at the visitor in awe! As usual he grappled with the twin horns of dilemma – to ask or not! 

Sensing this, the visitor came to the point- why had he come to him? Your friend wants to meet with you in person, and would consider it as a favour, if a visit is planned. Again, Imaginch had to jostle with the horns of dilemma. But on this occasion, he came to a decisive conclusion. Imaginch looked at the clock and it stood still at 30 minutes past noon. Maybe it too had been deeply affected by the narration or run out of power. Imaginch changed the battery cells and his dress to go and visit with his friend. 

The good-natured visitor volunteered to drop him off at the old age home. The visitor and the visited went silent with their own thoughts: How will the meeting go? Will it bring happiness or bring up sad feelings? If help is needed, how could it be extended? Or will it be something totally unexpected? Why did not I keep in touch with him, all these days? What happened to his family? what circumstance forced him to move into a home? How did he manage to get hold of my contact number, since I had not given it to him? Only the hum of the tyres, on the road to the old age home, kept company with their thoughts! 

Utopia

The apartment has a wide strip of free space all around. This compound wall-bound lane has no other entrance /exit gate for the other high-rise buildings.  We with “no–wheelers”, have the only exit/ entrance gate in the short by- lane. With children living abroad, the property owner’s family practically live there to be with them. This held two benefits for us - as a preferred tenant and to be chosen as their family friends. To keep us in peace of mind, his children have decided not to go for redevelopment. By this act, their entire family became our permanent guardian angels.

The annual migration literally starts from the four corners of the country. Within a few hours' gap, sons, daughters, sons-in-law, daughters-in-law, and of course a clutch of grandchildren descend with bags and gift packs. The joy of homecoming has successfully erased the weariness out of their travel. This annual homecoming never fails to bring the tide of happiness and wash over our tired aged bones. Ignoring the aching bones, we had started our preparations for this summer vacation, well in advance. This task was getting complicated, every year, to the next level as the kids changed with age and so did their preferences. Within minutes the cackles of joy let loose by the children had such an impact on the atmosphere, prompting the house to try and shudder from its foundation.

 The only unchanging preference they have, on arrival, is to play a game of musical chairs to opt for the favourite grandparent, for that vacation. They deliberately change sides to keep us on tenterhooks to know who is with whom, till the last minute. The sweet kids do let us know, at the end, that it was for fun and they love both of us in equal measures. Probably they did this to keep us eagerly expecting their next visit. 

Ever think of upsetting an apple cart? The children do it without batting an eyelid. We spent hours drawing up lists for gifts, foods and entertainment. A serious work out on mathematical and economical permutation and combinations had gone into this exercise. Finally, we nailed it and prepared two sets for each category - one from grandma's view and the other from grandpa's perspective. Even at this stage we were in the dark about which horse would run on which track!

When all hands are on deck, the kitchen reverberates to the sound of mixers, grinders and exasperated cookers blowing their tops. Strange aroma wafts from agitated solids, gooey pastes and liquids trying to leap out of pans. What else could be expected when four different cooking styles clash in the small space of the kitchen? Will it be a gourmet’s delight or nightmare?

Everyone needed a comfortable space to unwind, and we managed to create just that by consensus. Shopping fell exclusively on women folk as they know and enjoy unhurried browsing, bargaining and walking away from the shop, only to repeat this exercise in another place. Equitable value for the time and money spent.

 The men folk engaged in delving into past occurrences, searching for viable new options and talking shop, as workspace is not the place to air opinions or frustrations. I merely listened and made guarded comments as my experience stood off by a generation.

In the meanwhile, children managed to vanish into neighbours' houses and appeared beaming with smiles after hectic activities. Compound walls are no barrier for them. The considerate kids - they planned it in such a way to let the adults the freedom to unwind.

Taking their turn to unwind and unnerve us, the children plan outdoor visits to parks, beaches, multiplexes, malls and other places of their interest with unabated enthusiasm. All of us are swept and carried away by this swift current. They unfold hidden plans to add twists to these escapades. Anyone of us forgetting to bring cash is given a special concession – bear the total expenditure of the day and settle it on reaching home. As is their wont, the kids get away with whatever they want; using all the trump cards they have in the pack. The grandparents are given preference, being the most amenable and valuable trump card in the pack. They surely knew how to silence dissent! 

 Expenses and exhaustion apart, we would never wish to miss these opportunities brought home into our lives. The calendar of activities is mostly the same every year. But with each passing year here and there modifications are made by children to suit their likes and dislikes.

They have an exclusive schedule for taking on grandparents. From past experiences, we know this will be testing time – not for our patience but the ability to field their questions. This phase is probably their version of work from home! 

The hapless grandma gets all the children crowding around and running interference. What is traditional cooking and what is medicinal cooking? How do you know the proportion is right when the ingredients might differ in quality from time to time? How do you adjust the prepared dishes to last for more plates than planned? How do you remember the addition sequence as no subtraction is possible? Veteran of many cooking battles, she calmly tells them “Scoot or go without food”. The children beat a hasty retreat - having had their fill of fun and worrying about her threat. Not to let her off the hook easily, they dumped a bag of disassembled parts of toys and sheepishly requested her help in assembling them. They knew that she knew that these are parts of the very same toys she had been giving them. Poor lady had no other choice but to work with them!

The children took the story-times to a different level. Usually, I spin stories and they listen till sleep overflows out of their drooping eyelids. This time around they wanted to take the role, with a co-operative production. Mixing innocence with devilish cheekiness, they took epic characters, tutored them in the latest cutting-edge technologies; gave them 'out of this world spacecrafts' to roam the far reaches of this universe. My head started to spin and orbit like electrons (I picked it up from them as it sounded appropriate). To add more confusion, they used code words from which I could understand nothing. They left when I simply shut my eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

When the holidays came to a close, the families left, leaving an emotional vacuum. A few days will take care of this desolate feeling and life for all of us will revert to normal routine. The children have outgrown the tearful send offs – there is always the next trip.

After reading, Imaginch had serious doubts about the logic in the narrative. He tried to dig out the missing logic. The author has freedom to imagine but is it permissible at this scale? 

The property, its location and layout appear right out of fairytales and does it really exist? Where in the world can one find such a property owner?

Where can one find such playful yet responsible, teasing and loving grandchildren? What happened to the gift packs? Did they exchange or forgot to?

He felt let down, due to lack of mathematical /statistical skills to work out the number of grandparents the kids share and how they manage to split their vacation?

All of a sudden, it hit him like a ton of bricks. It is his own narrative that he is trying to find fault with. He sat up on the seat of the dilemma for a while to wonder - whether to rework or let it be as it is. At the end, placing more confidence on the readers to edit and read, he kept the narrative without any change. 

The Professor

The man was furiously pacing, to and fro, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. The click-clack of his footwear breaking the silence that clung in the air. With the hands tightly clasped behind the back, his grim face telegraphed the weight of the matter zipping around in his mind, seeking clarity.

The visitor watched this metronomical event and soon his neck and eyes started ringing alarm bells of pain. The visitor chided himself for sitting in an awkward position and trying to closely follow the movements, in rapt attention. Unable to bear the silence any longer, he interrupted and asked, "What is the matter with you and why are you so agitated?"

Stopping at mid stride, the professor looked at the visitor for a few seconds and then came over to sit beside him. A temporary and welcome relief washed over the neck and eyes of the visitor. Both spent a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, waiting for the other person to speak first.

With a sigh, the professor explained the reason - three chance interactions with children, attending academic streams, has deeply affected him.

The visitor nodded his head half-heartedly, not knowing what his response should be on this topic and wondering why is this about children? Sensing the imminent loss of a pair of ears to drown with his woes, Professor immediately started elaborating on his screenplay.

Generally, it is our belief that childhood appears to be the happiest phase in human life. But it might be wrong. The visitor mouthed an enthusiastic "Why so?"

"Ask the school going children and they will tell you a different story" replied the Professor. The visitor refrained from asking "which children?" The visitor's face started exhibiting crease lines of confusion.

Professor, attempting a firefight explained, "After all, they endure the peer pressure from parents, grandparents, relatives and friends & relatives of all the above-mentioned stakeholders. What is left for the child to call its own - imagination and unfulfilled dreams!"

Interest welled up and some of the crease lines took leave from the visitor's face. Still, he could not shake the foreboding that some more serious confusion was about to engulf him. With trepidation he asked, " who parted with these pearls of wisdom and why?" 

Instead of responding to the questions, the professor's lips parted to deliver a second narrative - Parents have limited time to observe the child. For them a child is a product to be packaged and future delivered. No doubt they spend the best part of the day, every day, to earn for ensuring the package is future groomed. The child fully understands this and appreciates it. But prefers to get there with some modifications to the parent's plans. In effect, the child is happy to have the guide without moral preaching, 24×7 on all channels.

The confusion quotient in the visitor's mind was raising, as a child's viewpoint was being repeatedly mentioned. His reasoning was quite simple - the points made were definitely not sitting well with a child's utterings! The visitor felt like a person caught in quicksand - chose to stay calm in the chair. Hoping for an abrupt end to the narrative, he was afraid to seek an explanation at this point. Left with no other alternative, the visitor laced his fingers tightly and kept them behind his neck to stem his welling up anger. This was to safeguard himself from being accused of manslaughter. The professor did not deserve this.

The professor had other ideas - he wanted to cap it all with one more instance. A child bemoans the timings - when elders choose to ask questions, give out suggestions and handout admonishments. Why a child should not engage with two or more interesting activities, simultaneously. Why should this be called a waste of time? The elders demand to be left undisturbed while carrying out simultaneous tasks. The child never terms it a waste of time. Where is the logic in this? The child too wishes to be shown the same consideration. 

What is wrong if minimum effort could lead to maximum returns, what is wrong in exploring this advantage? Why should parents always harp on the lack of wholehearted effort? Why do they conveniently forget the fact that they might have heard the same complaint from their parents? Sometimes, a child might boldly say these thoughts and many times just murmur and walk away.

The visitor wondered whether the professor has had such a lasting impact - personal childhood experience as well as from his purported interactions with yet to be identified children! Is it because of this the professor was speaking in a child's voice! Multiple alarm bells started ringing in his ears.

Finally, the emotional outburst of yet another narrative came to an end, without even a customary popcorn intermission. The visitor could no longer remain a mute listener. He demanded of the professor to lift the veil and reveal the "when, where and who?"  Deep space silence hung in the air. The visitor braced himself for a renewed pacing -the-floor performance. 

To his surprise, the professor stood up sporting a smirk occupying a large space on his face. This set the visitor's anger on boil. Sensing an outpouring, the professor hastily uttered - in here, in my mind and just now! To add some flavour to the suspense, he declined to reveal " the who?" mentioned in the narratives.

The number of interrogatory marks thrown around the room must be enough to fill a pushcart! The visitor cursed himself for having chosen this day to call on the professor. Belatedly, the visitor remembered that he had endured this sort of "seance" awhile back, in the past! Yet like a lamb, he had walked into the slaughterhouse.

To set things right, he decided to seek a remedy for his forgetfulness, as soon as possible!