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!