The mysterious code:

Deep in his mind, a sort of cyclone was always brewing. Not sure what it was about and knew not what to do about it? One saving grace was that the cyclone had not decided to climb up in the weatherman's categories - moderate, severe and very severe. 

But his mind did not allow him to be satisfied with these go-to cyclonic classifications. It started to constantly urge and goad him to find out which part of the deep foldings of the brain, the acronym "O.I. I " originated and what it signified?

He decided to allow his subconscious mind to grapple with the puzzle and started doing some of the pending works in the house. Clearing cobwebs, dusting bookcases or changing fused lights never appealed to him and in his mind, he always stamped them as 'not urgent'. As months rolled by, these pending works got downgraded to 'being neglected' category, which promptly came to the notice of everyone in the house.

More than the swirling cyclone in his mind, these long pending works presented a bigger threat to his freedom to pursue creative thinking. He set to work, thinking by chance he might remember in what context he scribbled this "O. I. I ". Coupled with forgetfulness now and then (his people termed it as selective amnesia to avoid helping) and his penchant for writing in secret code always took him to the precipice/ edge of despair.

He stood proof to 'habits die hard' Either he was not allowing the habit to die or the habit refused to die, and it remained as an unsettled issue, in one of the folders in his mind. Instead, he found another scrap of paper bearing "I .I .O". This innocent looking code (assumption till proved otherwise), started his mind to cartwheel on whether "O. I .I " or "I .I .O "that has to be addressed. 

Fearing about finding some more of such coded scrap of papers, he hastily shut the doors of the bookcase. Even in dreams, he had never dreamt of becoming a spy. Beaten and bruised, he browsed through his memory files and folders in search of clues. All of a sudden, a brilliant bulb of an idea lit in a hidden corner of his memory scape. Like crowdfunding, why not crowdhunting!

Talk about his proclivity of getting voluntarily caught into one's own trap, he effortlessly tops the list . The idea of crowd hunting led him to his grandchildren. He has a sort of a forced working relationship - as a donor to crowdfund some of their pocket money emergencies. How can he refuse but to give in as they held his 'secrets' as bargaining chips? 

They demanded upfront payment as crowdfund, before they were even ready to lend their hearing ears. Their ploy was to milk whatever possible amount to top up their pocket money. He grudgingly acknowledged their start-up strategy via crowd funding. He mentally thanked their schools for the short vacation and hoped the break   would help them to decipher break the "O. I. I" and "I. I .O" codes. It was unsettling to think that he might have left these scarps of papers himself and promptly forgot about them. That is not all, he was dying to know what he would have meant when he wrote them?, if at all To him, this cluelessness was more worrisome than the act of forgetfulness.

The grandchildren became super busy, skipping either breakfast or lunch and disappeared from sight. He had to wait till dinner time when the household sat together. In place verbal communication Only furtive glances could be exchanged between them, to keep the lid on the secret investigation. He had noticed curious looks from the other members as if wondering who had gone crazy. Finally, the sun rose on the last day of the holiday. Before he could confer with them, the grandchildren rushed out to enjoy maximum fun out of that day. He managed to stay sane, suffering the agony of suspense, in silence. After dinner, they trooped into his room, with smug smiles hanging from every part of their face. He admired their thespianistic acting skill to command the facial muscles, at will. 

They: It appears to be a mirror image. 

He: What? I didn't do any such imaging, why would I? 

They: We don't know. But the scrap of papers point us in that direction.

 He: Are you grand-kidding me or what! 

They: No sir, we are certain that it was a mirror imaging experiment gone misplaced.

He: Do you mean that this mystery got shrouded in that mystery? 

They: Grandpa, not only you got confused but are trying  to do the same to us. 

He: At least explain now or else...

They immediately sensed the withdrawal symptoms and loss in crowd funding. Collectively they let the mystery cat out of the mystery bag. Grandpa, we were doing that mirror imaging experiment for a science project and the scrap of papers were left by us as lost. Thanks for finding them.

He knew his grandchildren have just come up with a face-saving explanation, as in their collective science books there is no such topic on mirrors or mirror images.  Flabbergasted and furious, he ambled out of the room and decided to pay back to them in the same 'bit coin'. The idea to threaten them with 'bit coin' came to him when he realised that they had played a prank on him, taking advantage of his occasional forgetfulness.  On the day of school reopening, he gave them each a piece of paper, depicting a curious looking drawing. He told them it would be their fee for completing his crowdhunting  work. Consider it as your crowdfunded pocket money till the next holidays. He smiled and mumble to himself, "Children, I too can play the game."

 Along with the schoolbooks, the children carried the scrap of paper also, to try and decipher it. In the long run, they could not sustain without the crowdfunding grandpa. They heard his whisper 'are we not cut from the same cloth?' ,in their heads  all day long. They were unsure whether the same cloth is trying to tell them that he has also played pranks or to warn them not to play tricks on him?

Making sure that the grandchildren were not around, he stood in front of the mirror and tried to imitate their voice and facial expressions to deliver his dialogue - " Buds. I know what "O. I .I" means. It is your code for me 'Over Imposing Individual'. To confuse the issue, you left another scrap of paper and when questioned bluffed it is a mirror image of  "O .I. I " from left to right, for a science project!" 

His brain itched vigorously to find out what could "I .I .O" mean? When he sat in front of laptop, his eureka moment arrived with a bang. He hastily powered it on and started a search for other words starting with I and O. Then he remembered an easier way - scrolled through their search history when they used his laptop. how dare you grandkids, am I "Invidious, Intoner, oblique individual?"

He did not want to douse their enthusiasm by telling them how he had cracked their codes. Though some words fell beyond their vocabulary's boundary, still he admired their ingenuity.   He decided to restrict their freedom, by once again changing the password, knowing fully well that it would be just for the time being. The grandfather fondly mused, "Oh, there are such fun filled, educative moments too in life!"