Bring it on Grandfather

                                                                                         A broom is as good as the hand holding it!

                                                                                                             From: “Settled dust”

The grinding stone, the steppingstone, the door mat and other inanimate objects  are more useful than a grandfather. He mumbled to himself, as he walked along on the footpath to nowhere. This might look like a sweeping statement, but a closer attention to incidents that have happened or happening or would happen in the future will be the proof for the pudding.

 The first salvo gets fired at him, when a grandkid doesn't respond immediately. Grandmother trains the gun to fire " like grandfather, he is hard of hearing or does not want to hear hard words." This leaves both, the grandfather and the kid perplexed. The grandson who was deeply engrossed in reading did not know what this is all about. The grandfather trying to recall the times, when and why he didn't respond, in the past! No way he could retort, “You are always saying something, whether it has anything to do with me or not. Truth be told, I do feign of not hearing to avoid a disagreement."

 The second salvo was fired when the grandson brings home a report card. Now, on this occasion, the son is quick to join issue with his father," You are too much for him and see what he has brought home now. Anything I ask, he replies, grandpa only said not to worry and strain too much and follow the clues I have given. If only I could have remembered them." 

 The grandpa feels like a potato being skinned alive (scrapped). He wanted to give a hot reply, " Is he Old Macdonald from the nursery rhyme?" But chose to remain silent as his grandson had used his words out of context and his son easily fell into that trap and jumped to a wrong conclusion.  Yet, as a grandfather he could only swallow the bitter pill administered by the grandkid. Affection needs a thick skin out of necessity, he mused!

With the grandmother, always in hand, to clue in the likely trajectory of the tracer bullets, the clan simply aimed at the painted target and fired away with telling accuracy. In effect, the grandfather had become a bullet ridden veteran, without being awarded a chakra of any kind. Seriously thinking about the needless potshots being taken at him, gave an idea. He allowed it to germinate in his mind for two reasons - collect some more of such 'wounds' and decide on the structure, with all embellishments, which would anyways creep in, as he planned a narrative. 

Once finished to his satisfaction, he decided to share it to all, in his Blog, which was tired of waiting for so long. He did not want to miss this golden opportunity, for dropping two fruits with a single stone throw.  As usual, he needed additional time for selecting the fruit and the tree.

Never a believer in coincidences, since none had worked in his favour so far, he was pleasantly surprised when his daughter asked him to come over. She had added, without forgetting, a sweetener " You know, kids love you!" He, then literally pinched his skin (on thick and thinner regions) to make sure that he has been invited (commanded). The dampener was hiding in the next sentence - have booked two tickets and check your inbox. A one act Shakespearian tragedy.

The practice of off- loading tasks, on to spare hands seems to be the norm from hi-tech companies to common households. He unsuccessfully tried to find out which stream came on-line first. In the household, older the helping hands the better it would be and only thing to be done is to brand them as "seasoned hands". The rest, as they say, is a misery with twists and turns, in his case.

Attachment has a way of getting a fault line to open as a crack. Stronger the attachment, the wider it opens. It all started with a no value number zero. At that time, it was a beautiful tool to explain a mathematical concept to my granddaughter. Lo and behold! He, never expected it to assume a significant value, after some time. Like long-term deposits growing with interest.

 A person who could not determine his place value in life, had the onerous task of teaching the place value a number assumes, written in different ...ok, you get the drift. He took pains to explain what happens to the value of a number, when shifted to different places like ones, tens, hundreds and so on.

In his over enthusiasm, the granddaughter is a willing and absorbing student, he tried to trick her with zero as often as possible in ones, tens and hundreds positions.  It is difficult for a child to grasp the meaning of zero. Adults, too, are not entirely out of the woods because our mind has to create something out of nothing. How a child can understand this contradiction - on the number line it looks easy, but it does not exist.

To make matters easier, he hit upon the idea of this one-liner – a zero is zero and it will not become a hero under any circumstance! He drilled the concept into her mind that zero is nothing and whatever position it occupies, it shows no appreciation in value. This he did not realise as an over kill. This comedy ended as a tragedy, a few days later. But, what his granddaughter did in the class resulted in a call for the parents to meet with the teacher. When told of this, the naughty girl quipped ‘with or without the hero’, sheepishly pointing at  her grandfather. 

This was enough for my daughter to call the riot army to march all over me. She had an axe to grind- I had not discovered this noble property of zero, while tutoring her decades ago! 

Like a school student standing in front of the principal, I fidgeted, twirled my thumbs and remained mute. Pity or impatience took over the reins and the stand-off fizzled out, when all of us retired to our safe corners. 

 I know, this rumbling volcano of my daughter, will spew out gentle wisps, for a day or two, after all it is her father. For my part, I gently twisted my granddaughter's ear and asked her why did she do what she did? I got a one-word response, " What?" in an AI generated voice and vanished like a switched off hologram.

Not to be left behind, my grandson inadvertently laid a trap, into which I happily stepped in. As he stepped down from the school bus, I was shocked to see him, with palm closed over his left eye. Usually, he runs toward me, hugs and immediately hands over his school bag and lunch bag. 

His sister came down next, with a serious face. I sensed that something has gone wrong. Posing like Moshe Dayan, he blurted out that someone has hurt his eye and he is barely able to see. I was taken by his facial expression and accompanying tear-jerking dialogue - an Oscar worthy performance, His sister, still remained serious without uttering a word. The three of us made the trip to the doctor. I came out with a litre of black paint on my face (grandson’s hoax call) and incurring additional expenditure for two cups of ice cream, as penalty. 

At home, mother and daughter joined the chorus of tirade against me, for spoiling them with ice cream when specifically, been told not to so.  Their breathless monologue left me speechless, as the frantic signals from the kids forbade me from explaining the background. He mused, once you have given in, it is nothing but all the way, on the highway, of course with a toll!