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.