Laptop Gee

Imaginch sat like a statue in front of his laptop. The screen, perhaps to tease him, stared back without straining any photons. Some of the keys have already announced their reluctance to respond to his touch. Even in this stalemated condition, Imaginch could not help but to recall the stand-off of top-notch gun fighters from the old wild west films. In the background, he even could hear snatches of the lilting music score of Ennio Morricone! He chided himself for, losing track thus in, daydreaming. 

Refocusing on his objective, he scrolled through streams of sent and responded messages, dating back to about six months. To ensure delivery to the recipients, he had used from e-mails to simple messaging services available and familiar to him. In addition, Imaginch had included crisp 'teasers' (on the sly, of course) such as (1)” Going down the memory lane is like rushing through the downward loop or struggling through the upward loop of a roller-coaster. A nauseating and frightening experience.  (2)  Better ask the horse whether it is thirsty before taking it to a trough of water. Or otherwise, the horse might ask you why you didn't check up before dragging it to the trough?” After each ‘send’ command he had expectantly awaited replies from among positive, negative or N I (Not Interested) options. 

His alter ego stepped in to point out that like a ripple, at the center of a pond, reaching the shore, the waves of Imaginch’s communication had reached relatives and their relatives and friends, his friends, their relatives and their friends. Even though both of them are rarely on the same page, it vehemently agreed with him that six months was unreasonably a long period of time to respond. The alter ago did not miss the opportunity to point out and criticize Imaginch for his failed sales pitch.

It was quite a disappointment to Imaginch, that none of the recipients had the time or inclination to send a reply. All he wanted was a confirmation that they had read, at least one of his texts. His alter ego ran an interference with him, urging to confront each one of them, by his usual communication mode. Pleaded with him to become aggressive and remind them of his attentive participation, whenever anyone of them needed him as a “sounding board.” It vociferously drew his attention that his hearing started to diminish from that “kind-gesture-time onwards.” The alter ego had this axe to grind - being constantly ignored. 

Like a liquid seeping through a tiny crack, the reality percolated downwards and collected as self-doubt. Imaginch’s alter ego readily absorbed this feeling, as any dehydrated sponge would do, and started scripting screenplays fueling the growth of self-doubt into helplessness.

Imaginch did not notice the sudden gathering of ominous black clouds and was startled by a whip lash of thunder after a blinding flash of lightning. The hesitant rain drops, falling sporadically, produced discordant notes. Soon, a heavy downpour, with gusting winds, commenced and the sound of pelting rain drops produced a mesmerizing effect, to say the least. He wondered at the way the branches and leaves of plants managed the fury of rain drops by simply bending without resisting. What struck him the most was the sight of a tall, lone tree, swaying and acknowledging the wind and rain. Branches, mostly bald without leaves, did not matter to it. Imaginch wondered whether the tree also agonised with communication gap!

As if waiting for a chance, the alter ego wagged its index finger and said, "Did you get the message? What if no one responds? Is it the reason you allowed self-doubt and helplessness to swamp you? Now that you have collected a laundry list of persons who could be taken off from your communication spectrum and is it not a positive outcome? You have no talent to be a salesman and still why did you try to sell your work product?" His alter ego had the last laugh – “Did I not watch your struggles and then struggled to understand your output? Believe me I had no choice.”

Imaginch had no answer to these admonishments and remembered his sly teaser about the horse. He understood if the work product is good, no salesmanship is required. He decided not to allow the horse to gallop on its own free will, anymore. With a long-drawn-out sigh, Imaginch closed down the laptop. He understood that it would be better if nobody knew about his ‘much ado about nothing’ and decided on " No more ripples in a pond brimming with water or bone dry." 

 Imaginch thanked the laptop, for not taking sides with his alter ego and not passing snide remarks. On a happier note, switched it off, for now.