Kindly, switch off the genius:

"Political parties have high commands and high commands have a genius being groomed to take charge ...".  This passage, on the state of politics in his country was annoying.  Afraid of saying even the word' fight' ChintaMany decided to do agitate against it peacefully, by pouring out his anguish in his diary.  

Whatever be the party and its ideology, migration from one party to another for accommodation and rehabilitation is common. Instead of having ears on the ground, they rely on foreign media accounts to disrupt proceedings in assemblies and parliament. Ideology be damned!  The saying, “charity begins at home” is their guiding mantra.” As pointed out by the columnist, they all have a genius to be groomed.

This genre belongs to one such party, that claims getting Independence or vigilant in safeguarding the independence or runs with a claim m to be the torch bearer for the poor or relentlessly marching with a cudgel against profiteering industrial establishments, or content with making rhetorical noises quoting out of expired pages of dogmas! 

A typical genius politician deludes himself or herself as a warrior and shows his valour by sniping at the real soldiers. Wanting to be a diplomat par excellence, does not understand silence is a powerful tool of denial than rolling up a half-sleeve. He or she is waiting to inherit gold mines, in the ballot boxes, to become a Midas. He or she has not learnt that whatever Midas touched became a misery for him. Probably, is it the desire of this modern Midas? Highly competitive, he or she practices hide and seek, shoot and scoot relentlessly for an Olympic appearance, on the half chance that these Quixotic games would be included.  

Is oratorial skill the foundation for demagogues to build political careers?  False. Endowed and genius politicians have palatial mansions from which to play their political innings. Swaying the public opinion by dispensing acerbic or acidic comments and sometimes with wrong statistics, are counted as merits. 

No country gives a driving license to a backseat driver. But where this genius has roots, that norm does not apply. Can you imagine a party without a spokesperson? Whenever, this genius opens the mouth, the official spokesperson goes in battle gear, to grab a mike and spin yarns to distance the genius and the party from the printed ‘pearls of wisdom’ as an the off-the-cuff or out of context, misquoted remark. The job of the spokesperson, is to make such delirious utterances to go away, at least from the genius and to label it as paid news with malicious intent. 

Is it not true that the mainstream politicians engage with the public, in the constituencies or within the country?

False. Not applicable to a genius. After tasting foreign food in a foreign land tries to stand tall amid ruined remnant of the party. To prop up his or her political rise, can throw mounds of sludge to insult one’s own sovereign country. Foreign soils offer the best climate. This act of taking the country to his or her fool’s paradise, unsettles even an apolitical bystander. It was getting unbearable and ChintaMany decided to spend his anger by analysing why this type of incorrigible geniuses are getting a free pass always.? 

Why the left, right and wingless political parties, carry along this genre of ‘genius’ politicians? Why the ability to generate nuisance value by stirring controversial brews to garner publicity from foreign soils is tolerated? Is imported articles (print and video) have greater appeal and get easily integrated into that particular party’s national politics.? When the reiterated claims of lineage, assumed popular mandate in the pocket, did not bring the crown to a genius, what are the options open to the party? 

ChintaMany had an answer “Strive to earn a landslide victory or order a personal crown from a famous house like Cartier! With head in the sand, this political party hopes for windfall gains, with the genius running a robust business model of exporting criticisms and importing foreign support. The coterie prefers this misguided missile attacks from foreign soil, instead of being written off as a political spent force.  Like patriarchy or matriarchy, the branding of this genius falls in the niche category - ‘hypocriarchy’. New breed of politician and so a new word to the dictionary (hypocrisy +hierarchy). 

Awake or asleep, abroad or at home, business houses are the sitting ducks in the firing range of this genius. Commerce and Economics does not bother this genius swimming in the eddy current of a mainstream or tributary politics. For building castles, the genius should try for a place in Disney Land or Alice in wonderland, leaving alone the growth engines.  The business houses fuel economic, technical and employment growth. Where the trend leads, businesses will naturally gravitate there. This simple logic never penetrates the depths of this foggy mind, located in the Marianna Trench. 

Having no clear strategy, thinks time spent with these corporates to understand the world of business could well be spent with think-tanks abroad - nativity with a foreign flair. Flies abroad in business class, only to bait them and blame the ruling party.  He has no vision or a blue print to urge academic institutions and industries to dovetail efforts for advancement.  Shunning the thinking work, our genius politician chooses the easy way-out - blame brain drain, unemployment, monopoly and greed of homegrown corporate houses. The scion of the head-in-the sand-party (ChintaMany had branded the party, with great pleasure!), follows the script and fails to notice the rampant corporate monopoly, where he frequents or his think-tanks reside. 

If at all, he would get a chance, ChintaMany had some questions: 

You fly to foreign countries, and the top-ranking minds also do the same. They migrate to prosper. You, to earn a frequent flier badge? Will this badge glory to the country? Back home, you never fail to accuse government- corporate nexus, for brain drain. Why? Whose brain are you worried about? 

Having no other constructive ideas, you the eddy current swimmer try to tighten the nuts and bolts on the corporate houses for ruing economy and facilitating the growth of other nations – assemble and deliver contracts. You pose the great question why not they manufacture here? 

Personally, sitting over a mound of money, you have never even started a cutting-edge razor blade manufacturing unit. Instead, kept growing your stock portfolios of the very same ‘profit mongering’ ‘corporate entities! Where is the logic? 

You are a genius to have many think- tanks, steeped in foreign culture and investment climate, as sparring partners for your political boxing bouts. You forget to think and act like a native, while at home and not even willing to buy locally made readymades. Economy runs on revenue and an opportunity to cash it on, cannot be missed. Yet, you oppose the assemble and deliver streams. Is this your formula for reducing unemployment? 

By sitting by a business class window seat, you gaze at the hurrying mass of clouds and take a dig at the corporates who manufacture and sell aircrafts. Are you against them for catering to the elite? Or planning to start an airline service with a few hundred aircrafts, to make it affordable to the poor?  Why berate someone doing something? Flights of imagination surely will end in a hard landing of reality. Ready to something constructive? 

Not a day passes without you stirring the airwaves with angry outbursts. Is it inability to compete in the swimming pool that is fuelling your fiery speech. You, even after spending decades by swimming in the slip stream of mainstream politics remain difficult to be seasoned. The horde of tutors, in-house or foreign, could not raise their hands, for fear of losing favours from the mainstream politics. They are afraid to quote the saying that “Age is no bar to learn” to this genius who has D N A stuffed with entitlements. 

The mainstream political party is so weak that it cannot jettison this slipstream politician. Bereft of ideas and stamina, the old guards prefer status quo ante and status quo for the party and in addition a quid pro quo for themselves as bonus for being loyal.  The much-expected coronation event slipping by decades, the hope of the genius politician, hops from one foreign country to another either searching for roots, stems, branches or leaves that might have hidden fruits for him. 

Politics is played by get set and go rule and not by get jet and go. Plans. The head of state and head of external affairs are the exception to the rule as their job description is to get the jet and go. The genius, enroute on a sponsored ticket, imagines donning the role of head of state and head of external affairs and makes political speeches to the wrong constituency.

Complimentary tickets and the purse of honorarium come from ‘stink tanks’ operating in foreign soils with the sole aim of dredging up dirt, overlooking progress, in spite of shackles. In his over enthusiasm to project a self-portrait, this genius falls head long in to the laid trap, secure in the knowledge, that his backers at home would dive headlong to spin favourable yarns, alluding to the great insight of this failed politician. In extreme cases, the hecklers may be banished and forced to have sideline meetings to compare notes. 

The disease of spawning genius politicians is endemic.  Each satrap grooms a genius politician - a spouse, son, daughter, son-in-law or daughter-in-law, to hold the family empire intact.  They forget this is country which had seen many empires fall to dust. Bystander understood their mind set in this way- after abolishing Princely states and introducing Privy Purse, who else could fill the vacuum? In the political storm faced by them, this fortification would come in handy, to face raids from enforcement agencies. An elected representative in the family is always a golden insurance. 

This genre of politician provides one admirable service to the elected representatives of his party - keeps them fit.  The trick is to make out of turn statements or hurl ill-intended criticisms and scoot. This forces the party men to necessarily to do hasty ‘walk outs or walk aways’ to distance themselves, from these rants. Those who mount such stout defences, might be earn a cabinet post as defense minister!

The genius politician has a tendency to go off the script, the moment he crosses the border. The undesirable effect is media and think tanks with vested interest stare at us through this tainted lense. The side effect, once again scrambles seasoned politicians of the party to distance themselves staging walkouts or sit-ins in support of the Genious. It does not bother the genius, that many who hurried to support him themselves are iin  need of assistance to move their physical self.

Instead of raising a political storm, the genius manages to float a swarm of mote. Investiture ceremony eluding the grasp, the restless genius targets the foundation of constitutionally established institutions. For the discerning, it is nothing but bravado before standing before the very institutions for relief. 

A nation conducts diplomacy, within accepted norms shaped to be practiced in international arena. Norms and practices do not prevent self-styled spokes persons and the genius, from conducting open air diplomacy, to sing a discordant tune, throwing confusion in to the mix. 

Normally not taken seriously, the country suffers the added dead weight syndrome in the eyes of the world. Placing politics above diplomacy, the considered diplomatic views are for the benefit of constituency which is worried sick about the next sunny day. Even if it is an AI generated clip, politicians will do everything to milk the cow. What else you could expect from the cadre of spokesperson, who is happy to use the " misquoted” as many times it takes to bury the truth.

The genius is confused about his and the nation's future, suffering from "edge of the nose" tunnel vision. Holding a last straw, he prattles that elections are stolen from his party's candidates. With sharpened hindsight he did a backwards time-travel by a decade and announced all those elections where his party lost was due to conspiracy. Adding a new twist, from the one expected to give a new direction to the future of the party and the nation, this wimpy kid introduces another variant to explain future electoral defeats – dumping ‘foreign meddling” in favour of local conspiracy. 

The scion has the uncanny ability not to make political mileage but to create a political mess out of whatever issue is takes up. The genius likes to be the oven without the heating elements and hungry for power, if it comes without resistance. This sums up the dreams of the genius politician!

ChintaMany, after pouring out his anguish, came to the question of how to stop this infestation?

Only the electorate are capable of voting out the party to effectively take out the high command along with the genius under grooming. Perhaps a Toolkit – switch off the genius, might be of help!

The science and art of being a grandmother:

ChintaMany did not expect such a subtle backlash from his friends. The chorus puzzled him. He decided the best course of action would be reasoning it out with a follow up article on the indomitable grandmothers. He thought, is there any other better option to negotiate for peace on more than one front! 

Why this intense lobbying? Is there a hidden agenda behind this move to trap me or to show themselves in favourable light at home? Normally, cautious in their response, after reading a draft, how come they are almost up in arms? 

The best course that came to his mind was to attempt a sequel to the story ‘The art of being a grandfather’ with an account , “The science and art of being a grandmother”. This course had some difficult stretches to travel. He had to prove that he has it in him, as a writer to go ahead. Without postponing it for another time, ChintaMany got to work on the story on the grandmother. 

Why did a grandmother not appear in the episode of the grandfather? He had his own reasons. 

“An autography is better than a biography. The grandma, as the source has invested in those experiences and the writing will not be structured well to capture the emotional bonding. Me as a biographer could imbibe and might structure it to appeal to readers. So, I thought better to leave it to a grandmother to write. 

The experience and skill, she brings into the grandchild-grandmother relationship is oceanic in dimensions. I would express my dilemma, with this saying that goes like this " You cannot fathom the depth by standing on the shores of an ocean." Got my point on the reluctance to include the grandmother in that episode! 

Personal experience in dealing with children through all the teething troubles ranks better than the acquired skills of a grandfather managing to run the show till it reaches a climax. A very valuable reason to play the limited assigned role. 

Intuitive wisdom gets better traction than extracted wisdom. By nature, a grandmother is endowed to be intuitive. When lacking it, I thought it prudent to give it a wide berth, I meant the wisdom part! 

Extra sensory perception or paranormal messaging or whatever other name you call it by, a look is more than a M R I, C T, E C G, E E G or any other future gadget for the grandmother, to give a master health check up to the grandchildren, free of cost. A grandmother can write a home remedy prescriptions or line up a specialist to follow through with her diagnosis.  These faculties the grandfather lacks and can only add to the tension by asking or suggesting irrelevant questions or ideas. Now are we getting some more doubts cleared as to why, I did not include grandmother the in that write up! 

Many grandfathers do not venture even to cook a pot of rice. Reason is a dozen sequential steps are involved. -  like taking a measure of rice, wash, add needed water, soak, close the lid, light the stove, take out the cooker after switching of the gas. The gasket and relief weight are not mentioned. A majority of GF will miss the gasket it the weight or after doing all the things in the right order (not in right measure), the cooked rice would be a solid mass or in the form of a porridge. 

He gets ready with a failure analysis chart blaming the quantity of rice taken or the quantity of water added or both. For missing out on the precise instructions, the gasket or the weight will become the standby villains with a “Oh! I forgot”. Not only the rice gets cooked. Now you know why a grandmother in the kitchen is preferred by the grandchildren? I had deliberately glossed over this clumsiness in a grandfather, in a lighter vein, to avoid this trump card finding its way  in to the hands of his detractors. 

The most difficult part was getting the mood of the grandchildren and the grandmother to cooperate in my attempt. To be on the safer side, I positioned some caveats, before writing the first sentence to start the story of a grandmother.  The next step is to visualise, how the grandchildren would have enjoyed their relationship with the grandmother. 

Instead of the twisters the grandfather faced, what else they would conjure up for use now? How would the grandmother handle them?

Instead of Physics, chemistry and mathematics, what sort of problems they would bring to corner her? How would she cope up with the wise cracks made? 

For all of above questions, I could only imagine something like this would have transpired. Now that you have got the write up, enjoy it. Friends, remember that you people brought the pressure on   me to respond! 

The grandmother often admonishes them with 'unless you try how would you succeed?'

Unable to come up with a witty or sarcastic answer on the spot, the grandchildren remained quiet. One time, too many, they decided not to let it go, without a counter. 

One day, they tried it. Grandmother, you steam idlies but not the dosas, why?

In a matter of fact tone she replied, that is the only process or procedure.

The grandchildren exclaimed, "Oh! Grandmother, unless you try it on the dosa, how could you decide this is the only process or procedure!" 

The grandmother always used to remind them, "Don't walk inside the house, wearing school shoes."

The pranksters innocently asked "Can we carry them and come inside the house?"

Annoyed the grandmother snapped, "why would you want to do that?"

"To prove that we did not walk inside the house, with shoes on!" 

On a fine day, the grandchildren took their grandmother to a restaurant and a sked, " would like  to have a silent dish or sound bites?"

The grandmother got floored with choices to choose from. She sat contemplating.

One of the grandchildren quipped, "Ok, I will order one of each."

She sat in suspense and worried what in the name of the menu she will be forced to eat.

When steamed idlies sat in a plate, and a folded paper roast (dosa) came to her, she understood, the hoodwinking.

Not giving her a chance, one kid apologetically murmured, “The restaurant has no printing press!" 

Another time, colloquially they asked her “What is cooking?"

She replied, " It is a combination of various ingredients like carbos, proteins, starches, sugar, mixtures and compounds, oils and colouring, anti-bacterial and anti-ageing agents, operations such as washing, soaking, cutting, boiling or steaming, frying, mixing, grinding, casting, extrusion, acid -base reactions, and much more like fermentation, extraction, decantation, filtration, wetting and spreading. Then she calmly asked, you want to know some physics involved in cooking?" 

They meant to ask what they will get to eat. Instead, they got an earful of grandmother 's wisdom. She had her chance and utilised it to prove that she too can play their game. The out-smarted children, bolted out of the kitchen, literally with their tails tucked in and tongues held in cheek! 

This debacle called for an emergency meeting. Views, counter views and comments, for and against were freely exchanged. Before coming to a conclusion, they considered these points for voting:

It is difficult to put up with a grandmother - a closed-circuit echo whereas the grandfather is only an echo!

GF is a subject wise torture and grandmother s is universal. 

They wondered with what strategy the grandfather, his son and daughter have managed themselves so far?

Their consensus vote – the grandfather is a soft target. Grandmother is a martinet, in comparison.  

After reading the draft on the grandfather, they wanted to know why I did not include the grandmother? The grandfather version nearly complete, I did not want to distract the focus away from that topic. I found a way to bring in the role of a. grandmother.” 

This account is the answer to my friends. Now, my friends will understand why I was reluctant to include a grandmother in the earlier narrative. She would have simply overshadowed the 'achievements' of a grandfather, who rarely gets an opportunity. She reciting chemicals and industrial processes to a colloquially framed, simple question, “what is cooking?". And taken together with the grandfather’s cameo-tragic attempt to cook rice, would have stolen the thunder from under him.

Friends, give me feedback whether my fear, that this account would eclipse the shine out of the poor grandfather. Hope, the grandfathers, as a lot, don’t feel let down. 

Satisfied with the way the narration has come out, ChintaMany, let out a long sigh and cracked his knuckles. His pet puppy sleeping happily on the warm rug woke up with a start and looked at him as if to question,” all for this?”

The Calculator gets it wrong-II:

The Calculator, not a seasoned politician, has learnt his lessons from the fiasco. Sidelining the ‘frame the expulsion letter’ advice given by his conscience, he stepped in to the office of an upbeat political party. This party, short of a few seats, has been steadily marching towards claiming power.

 He had no baggage of claims - saviour of the nation, sole be voice of the poor or dead against industrial establishments. He had no firm ideology except foisting his son and daughter upon the electorate. The party bigwigs saw no immediate threat and decided to take a calculated risk.

The party knew that his dream projects had got him expelled. The party currently was unable to win those seats where the Calculator’s family had built up considerable rapport among voters, contesting. Wins there, the party gains. If not, not a setback to the party. So, with a caveat, that the Calculator will continue to come up with novel schemes, the party admitted his family without any delay.

These developments caught the attention of the local tabloid, some in favour of and some in the negative perspective. His son and daughter, miffed by this sort of oblique coverage, wanted to send a strong rebuttal message. Calmy, the Calculator explained, “It is politics. Positive or negative publicity, both serves the purpose of making you known far and wide. Moreover, it is free publicity.”

The local Toolkit, “Stop the nepo-kids”, sponsored by the rusticated neta did its best to castigate this party that had admitted the tainted trio. The neta hoped for a reprieve and that party which expelled the trio, relented. Unknown to this neta, an urgent kitchen meeting was held to approve his readmission thinking if he wins, a seat is gained and if not, it would be a good riddance for the party.

During the campaigns, the family avoided high-pitch sales and merely pointed out that their ideas, which could have transformed life of the voters, had been hijacked by the party that had expelled them and are now shamelessly using the stolen ideas in constituencies, where his family is contesting. The Calculator’s family, showing street smartness had managed to turn the tables on the opposition party. The voters who were desperate for something new, felt cheated by this underhanded tactic. With beginners’ luck, baked by the apathy of voters, they won the three assembly seats. The enraged voters pushed the 'idea grabber' party’s candidates to the last place, forfeiting their security deposits. 

For lack of clear reasoning, the poll analysts safely attributed these victories to their frequent visits and the brilliant idea of hosting a birthday bash for the unheard of 99-year-old! The new party celebrated this achievement of winning these seats for the first time.  Instead of accepting a ministerial berth, The Calculator requested permission and funds to start at least one new project, in each assembly segment. 

The fund starved state convinced him to use a tract of waste land, for whatever good purpose he could put it for use. The Calculator quickly did a mental math and the offer of nearly 200 acres, though lying waste had immense potential for exploitation. Inadvertently, this offer had handed him a loophole – ‘whatever good purpose he could use it for’, without specifically excluding personal use! 

He deliberately remained noncommittal. The party brasses blinked first and the government decided to gift the land in order to complete the government’s full term. Few discordant voices were raised from the party and the opposition cried hoarse “land chor’. But nothing changed. 

Puzzled, his son and daughter asked why he had taken 200 acres of barren land. Not even grass grows there. "Have you gone out of your mind?" 

The Calculator simply said, “I have a plan. Wait and watch." 

The next day, he called on the minister for animal husbandry and environment (a peculiar combination) and convinced him it would be a good idea to develop a grass land for supplying cattle feed. It would be of great help, if he could also get the small pond and the three standalone ‘butte’. The minister obviously has never heard of a ‘butte’ and what it means. To dispose of his ignorance, he ordered the free transfer of the pond and the three ‘butte’ to the Calculator. Predictably, environmentalists searching for a cause raised some more slogans, organised protest marches and after generating sufficient media frenzy, disappeared without a trace. The Calculator’s son and daughter came running with a concern, “will this environmental thing not affect our political future?” 

He calmly explained, “In politics, as I have explained earlier, publicity of the negative kind is better suited for us and the projects. The environmentalists thought, that they would get the advantage, but managed to handed it to us, unwittingly!” The C M did not think so and called for an urgent meeting to douse the imminent and ready to rage fire. The Calculator came prepared to weather the storm. He had snapshots of the site, displaying “Green Graas Foundation” written in the party colours and lone cow with mouthful of lush green grass. The C M could almost detect a twinkle in the cow’s eyes. The picture had the intended effect - touched his heart and changed his mind, in a matter of seconds.  He ended the meeting with a “Well done, put the land to whatever good use you want to.” 

The Calculator, to make him happy at that moment, after the double endorsement on the end use, , enquired about his family. The C M, in a terse tone rued, “My son and daughter are incapable of making a wave even in the local pond.” The CM, for all his political acumen, could not digest the ineptitude of his kids, to grab power and cling to it. The Calculator made note of this 'chip in the armour' and pocketed it for future use. Mission accomplished, he took leave after a decent interval. After all, he has not earned his nickname for nothing!

To sail smoothly along, he had decided not to burden his conscience with a simple motto - “charity begins and ends at home” over “charity begins at home”. In the course of the next 12 - 15 years, his successful run in politics gathered steam, pushing detractors and Toolkits aside like a tsunami wave. The off-the-hat projects he unleashed through media blitz, kept his detractors and Toolkits in check. The party though wary of his rise, had to put up with it , as it helped in winning more popularity and seats. 

This meteoric rise did not last long and the decisive moment, that was waiting patiently, came to play its hand. The politics in the state took a turn and turned the tide against him, to interrupt his dream-show like an intermission. It was once again the popcorn time for the detractors, Toolkits and investigative journalists. And they happily started munching on the crunchies.

The tabloids led the fall with “His dreams cost us everything”, “if you loot the pot, you lose the plot” captions and the Toolkit groups came up with “confiscate the counterfeit”, “rise and fall, away you sail” protests. This severe onslaught and the negative publicity, shook the very foundation of the party. To save itself from sinking into oblivion, the party promptly expelled the C M, tainted colleagues and the Calculator.

The party held a press briefing, inviting a few international journalists, with pre-paid air tickets and accommodation, along with local journos. The international angle was suggested by a renowned political advisor after charging a hefty fee. Whatever stones the party needed to upended, it did  it, to bury and seal their political career, once and for all.

When the dust settled, the Calculator took stock of his career. He had in possession scores of intimations for court appearances, messages from banks freezing his local and off-shore accounts. The last straw on the proverbial camel’s back was the revoking of his passport. Waiting to rub rock salt into his wounds, some mischievous person from one of the Toolkits, has forwarded a list of high-power attorneys along with their usual fee range.

Like the hot iron getting hammered on the same spot, his silenced conscience broke free and started to have a go at him. It had a list to tick off and it deliberately chose his sleep time, for maximum effect.

“There is a kilometre long allegation against you. Details, you would come to know in the court. The newspapers will splash your face and T V stations will do their best to drown you in panel discussions. Now, would you stand by your earlier statement that your "in politics negative publicity is more beneficial and powerful than positive publicity! Is this your way of painting yourself in glory? 

Continuing it said, “For the Green Grass Foundation, you promised to grow and feed fresh green grass to castles in the constituency, did you keep do it?  Why did you trick the ministerial colleagues to get freehold on 200 acres of land along with some other things? Not stopping there, you involved C M’s son as a front and hurriedly added a subsidiary "Grow Tall" under the Green Grass Foundation? Whom were you trying to play fool with?” 

Is that all? Asked the Calculator. 

No, not at all. You knew, well in advance, where the six-lane highway would be routed and then floated that housing project, am I correct? 

The Calculator meekly replied, "All along, were you not aware of my plan to become a builder of high-rise apartments, and why did not you voice your grumbles earlier?" 

Ignoring him, it continued,” Did not you think about the adverse effect, this project would have on the Green Grass Foundation?" 

Give me some credit here. I had selected the name of the Foundation with foresight! Now the Foundation will continue to function, growing grass around the apartment buildings! 

Irritated, with this casual approach, it retorted, “Only because of this sort of Chanakya dialogues, you got yourself into this stinking mess!” 

“What is this? Your pitch is climbing the scale with every accusation you are making.  Why are you doing this to me now, when I am being hounded from all the sides? You have been with me for decades and am I not worth a bit of sympathy on that account?” 

“Your mention of it, reminds me of the frozen bank accounts, including those offshore ones, with minimum balances that are enjoying sea breeze!” The conscience said in a sarcastic tone. 

“Why you kept quiet, for so long?” 

Truly miffed, it retorted, “How ungrateful of you to talk to me in that tone? I warned you about floating the Green Graas Foundation and Grow Tall venture. I raised my concern about your son and daughter contesting in elections. When you purchased a fleet of buses, did I not warn you, that it will cost you a political fortune? Wherever possible I had raised red flags, lit red signal lamps and fired tracer bullets. You chose to ignore them and after some time I started ignoring you.” 

“Let me explain. I bought a fleet of buses now, for running a free service to the families of the downtrodden, after the next elections and if I become a minister.  Little forward planning was all in my mind at that time. How I could have guessed that the wheels would turn around and hurt me now? What else?” 

“In less than 12 - 15 years of political life, you had docked two expulsions. Are you not ashamed of this dubious world record you have created?" 

“The Calculator asked, “Are you not aware that firing with mortars when the warrior is down and wounded is not an act of “Yudh Dharm”?” 

“You should have factored in all the grandstanding, before committing a truck load of follies. Now, that you have the World records to speak for you, will you answer my one and only question? 

“What is it?” 

“You did not have a seasoned political advisor or a mentor to guide you through the shark infected pool called politics.  Notwithstanding this stupidity of yours, every night did I not raise my concerns, sound warnings and plead for change of course. Due to your own obduracy, all my warnings and concerns went into a recycle bin. Now is your turn, to realise that even in politics, there is no prize for being ignoble." 

“Will you stop the lecture and ask your question?” 

“What made you to think that you would get away from it all, scot-free?" 

The Calculator had no answer but to maintain the age-old, golden silence! Dejected, his conscience joined him for company.

The art of being a grandfather:

ChintaMany decided to honour the grandfathers, who have dedicated themselves in the service of their grandchildren. He had them classified as active, vacillating and undecided, but deserving a place in the life of grandchildren.

When the age meets the 50-mark on the life-timescale, the prospect of becoming a grandfather rises in the horizon. The initial teething troubles, plenty in store, sort of prepares the person to be a graceful a grandparent. Hitherto, this word implied 'you are ageing' and was vehemently disputed. This radically changes when a grandchild is born in the house. He does not mind hinted references to that tag when he had objected to be introduced to other kids.

When this happens at the age of retirement, the joy and responsibilities raise exponentially. Joy in being with the grandchild whenever one desires or when one is called over for any contingency. The grandfather is ever ready with packed bags. Only purchasing few dresses, toys or things prescribed by grandma (if she is with another grandchild) need to be completed.  The responsibility part (changing nappy, singing lullabies, staging some entertaining acts for child to stop crying etc) might be taxing for the novice. Those who, as an youngster, have clocked experience in taking care of siblings, excel in baby care A - Z. An envious achievement in the eyes of freshers promoted as grandfathers.

To be a genuine grandfather, only on the job training is the solution. Sickness and periodic inoculation related issues is a fertile ground to gather grains of experience. This is made doubly taxing when bombarded with neighbourly wisdom on how to handle the situation. All the time a compromise is worked out the baby might spend weak energy in crying and simply take the next best route- sleep.  

There is one qualifying criterion - should be willing to be the go-to-handyman for the baby's mother! She might be tired or busy with house management. A typical workload could be, in case of a preterm baby, operator of a sterilisation appliance, be an assistant environment controller, a laundromat for sterilised and dried napkins, tie- up apparels and so on.

The operator job will be a little strenuous - spare feeding bottles, stainless steel tumblers, spoons, and another item added to the list, are to be ready for instant use. Bottles have to be lined up like soldiers in battle dress. You don't know when the baby will sound the alarm of hunger or after wetting the napkin.  

Another responsibility, not explicitly given but assumed to have been given, is to maintain a mental stock register and raise timely reminders on low stocks - baby food and medicines. A job to keep you on your toes! Why did grandfathers rush headlong into these hectic activities, of a baby-sitter, when the option was open to be a bystander?

There are two reasons that could answer this. One - the bond of blood between the baby and the grandfather is stronger than the pull exerted by the tendency to stand aloof. The nature of the bond is such, a toothless baby grin will sweep away all the interferences coming in the way of bonding. The overwhelming majority will do it for sheer joy of getting upgraded to the status of a grandfather.

Two - Human life often falls prey to comparison. Maybe, a few grandfathers are driven by the urge to be better by comparison, of course! Comparison, if taken as a pointer to deficiency, the corrective action is to become a baby-sitter. So, the decision on either scenario ends in the same result - be a true grandfather after becoming a grandfather. The time comes for outdoor forays. The child is yet to start uttering words. The grandfather had to engage the child's attention and teach at the same time. The child sitting on the folded arm of the grandfather, a bony saddle, the tutoring continues.

The grandfather imagining the child as Isaac Newton (who famously stated that he stood on the shoulders of giants to see the world or something to that effect), starts to point out and identifies with names for - two, three, four and multi-wheelers, cows, dogs, cats, squirrels, plants, flowers, fruits, birds, jet planes, clouds, moon and stars. The exclusive Science and vocabulary building courses are conducted simultaneously during convenient day or evening times.

Little did he realises at that time the cats and dogs introduced to the child will bark and meow at him, years later when at the school going age the grandchild might bring home a stray pup or kitten in the school bag -  a fait accompli! At that time, the mother would not waste any time to withdraw all the previous citations and replace them with a tongue lashing.

The mother (daughter or daughter-in-law) is happy and proudly makes special mentions, about the care given by the grandfather. A typical grandfather’s heart might swell with pride, if the oral mentions are made in his presence. He might wonder whether this is a tactics employed to get some free time from baby care!  Yet, he feels upset because these citations are read out to friends, on long distance calls, and they might not have seen this grandfather even once, in action.

By this time the child is upgraded to solid food. The child now has to migrate to a different technique - from effortless drinking to ingesting of solids. The child goes on a hunger strike (few minutes variety) and the grandfather is called upon, to try his magic (shoving the job on to willing hands to test the bond strength!)

The grandfather relies on a simple technique - go outdoors, feed a dog or a cat (pretend only) and do mimicry to produce peculiar sounds (ignoring the stares of onlookers) make the child laugh and expertly feed a spoonful in to the opened mouth, with surgical precision. The child in confusion swallows, looks at him and flashes a smirk (which the grandfather mistakes it for a thank you smile).

A Grandfather who does not insulate well against the effect of the blood-bond showing signs of weakening, suffers emotional trauma. New school friends, play mates and interests getting aligned with other goals are the catalysts that gnaw at and weaken the bond. The crafty(experienced) grandfather, who anticipates what to expect, does a politician’s   act - gradually distances himself from the party!

Grandfather grabs the chance to pamper the grandchild, partly to correct past missed opportunities, while bringing up his children, and partly thinking that up bringing of the grand child is now its parent's responsibility.

If the grandfather fails to realise that one day this act of pampering will become a trump card in the hands of the child, to play it whenever needed. The grandfather will be forced to stand mute, in front of the accusing gunsight of one of the exasperated parents, without a Kevlar vest!

During the course, of giving childcare, the grandfather might get assessed in one of the following ways: The mother (daughter or daughter-in-law, it will be the same) might assume that she is entitled to call in this service provider.  Or she might come out with criticisms, on quality of service extended. Or she might opt to stay neutral, to keep the grandparent guessing.

Many old hands, in grandparenting, might have come across this sort of stand offs over and again and in different formats. Each grandfather has faced or faces a different kind, as no team of grandchildren is comparable to another and also the same for the generation of grandfathers.

This being the case, instead of making a broad-brush stroke on the canvas, better counsel shall prevail to use only a pencil to draw the pictures. Some of those pencil sketches of grandfather-grandchildren might look like this, on the canvas: 

A difficult exercise in mathematics and the grandfather hits a roadblock. Throwing in the towel, he blurts out- "What shall we do now?"

The grandson, patiently waiting for a chance boldly declares- "Let us try and change the tutor!" 

Another day, it was the turn of the granddaughter. The grandfather was taking her along for a shopping trip. He asks, “why should don’t we do this way? He meant by walk. The granddaughter, remembering the round abouts and cul de sacs they had surveyed the last time, wasted no time and asked, "Do you have a good road map in your head or at least a Google map?” 

"Why don’t we attempt this once again?" Asked the grandfather, wanting to somehow help in finishing a project work.

The grand kid busily ran a hand through a mat of hairs and pulled some faces. Then the kid asked, "Grandpa, are you trying to be a Robert Bruce, again!" 

This clincher came out of a physics lesson.  It was a three-body problem being solved. And it literally turned out to be a three buddies’ problem! The grandfather finds ghosts of confusion walking all over the grandkids' faces. Exasperated, he boiled over, "The explanations I have been giving, appear to have flown over your heads!" He did not expect this strong come back. 

The grandson and granddaughter (twins by the way) tartly replied, "Let us check on the floor. What goes up should have come down somewhere here! Continuing, they added, "Is this not what gravity does to a mass?" The grandfather had to be satisfied, that at least they have understood what gravity does to a mass. 

Sometimes role reversal occurs, to even the scores. The grandkids target the grandfather and bombard him with twisters: 

"Where will the lawyers go to eat?"

If the grandfather innocently says a restaurant or a hotel, with a smirk the given answer will be - in the food court! 

To further tease the confused grandfather, the next one will be. "Where a clumsy person will get his food?

The grandfather worries whether the grandkids have tagged him as a clumsy person or expecting from him an answer like what he had given to the previous one. The grandfather hesitates. 

With glee in the eyes, the grandkids give the answer, “In a mess, of course!" 

Now is time to wind up this travel through times of joy and unpleasant moments in a grandfather's life, sponsored by the indomitable and mischievous pranksters. The seasoned ones will not hesitate to take the plunge once more.  The fence-sitters would like to take the jump, after due diligence, and those standing beside the fence would like to gather some courage to vault over! 

The world of grandkids and a grandfather is unique and utopian. The relationship grows like a banyan tree, under which everyday enlightenment and lessons on life are given for free! Sample and savour this: 

“The aftermath is always painful!

The past always has a price tag and in settling that debt, don’t mortgage your future.

You get to see your face twice - when someone (read grandkids) holds up a mirror to you and when you walk into your own dream.

When in deep mess (with the grandkids), you cannot leap-frog with faith alone.

Behind every apparition, there is a hidden logical explanation!” 

Consider these as “Desert-dry humour or arctic snow-drift repartee” , it never fails!

On a happy note, ChintaMany ended the story. His pet puppy ,lifted an eye lid to peer at him and then went back to contemplate its life, on the rug.

The Calculator gets it wrong -I:

He had clear visions -It costs nothing to dream. Daydreams cost next to nothing. His motto - Self-serving is the best serve.”   Of the many vistas open before his eyes, he decided to focus on politics. Every party has a high command and a progeny or two waiting in the wings to take flight. Even during daydreams, he silently acknowledged this construct of these high commands - regional or national. As many dreams there are, that many eligible progenies are there will be. Politics sans progenies are like the Sahara Desert without sand and camels.

He understood that a party does not grow from the top but from ground up because of grassroot level workers, local leaders (with muscles or money or both) netas in different tires to support the apex of the pyramidal power structure. Decades spent there lets in a sense of entitlement to share the spoils of power. With top slots kept perpetually reserved and limited, manoeuvring and positioning starts for the secondary and tertiary spots in offer - a dream chance for a few more aspirants.

He then analysed the future stock of various political parties, while toying with the idea of wetting his feet in political waters. After calculating the percentages, permutations and combinations and probabilities, he chose the party which had been out of power and presently placed above NOTA in the elections, as his bets bet. He had his reasons – deadwoods would have been sidelined or expelled, lack of fresh blood rushing in to fill that void and the ease with which he hoped to worm his way in to the coterie centric set up. Also, he had a son and daughter ready to follow in his footsteps.

His family stood at the middle, neither illiterate nor erudite, thus posing no threat to the elite in the Party. This factor, he could use to milk an advantage out of the educational status. He did include the possibility that the Party and the coterie might have preferred candidates to be accommodated, if at all the party snatches an unbelievable victory. Not a surprise why he is well known in the locality as The Calculator.

He started a long political journey with mini posters and flexi-boards depicting faces of The Party and coterie and in a calculated move he had positioned a flexi-boards obstructing a traffic signal. As expected, anger of public spilled into social media getting him a free publicity. The boards were removed after the outcry did not matter at all. But this did not escape the disgruntled eye of a sidelined politico and the act of this upstart reached the Party as a complaint. He received a curt message to leave out the coterie, in the next round of posters and flexi-boards! A few days later he received a primary membership card. The Calculator was surprised at the easy turn of events.

With renewed vigour, he set his sight on three safe seats - for panchayat ward to parliament vis assembly elections. His calculating mind then decided to drum up support for himself, son and daughter by going public with novel ideas and projects and hoped to post landslide victories, in selected wards/constituencies. His first miscalculations occurred here in thinking that the Party will approve and allot to him the wards/constituencies of his choice. He expected appreciation for the novel ideas/projects, which the Party may seize with all hands in deck, to improve its dismal tally in the electoral game. He had erred , again, in thinking that the coterie also has the same vision for the party’s prospects.

The political trajectory of this upstart worried the coterie and went into a battle mode. They had the advantage of gauging the mood and the thought currents of the Chair in the Party. A whisper campaign started to assail the eardrums of the Chair. The Calculator did not coin in this factor that the Chair could be a de facto Party in itself!

Unaware of the whisper campaign, he soon started his own campaign to bring the spot light on to his son and daughter. The two other safe seats going to someone else worried him. Believing in a big bang in place of a splash, he came up with novel ideas/projects for all the three of them and decided to take the chosen wards/constituencies by storm. Surely, the political star-dust this blitzkrieg would kick up, cannot be brushed aside like a mote!

He did not want to wait for an election to be announced to stake claim for tickets. In his view, preparation ahead of time always has more probability of acceptance than a late start. Not wasting time, he called a council meeting and assigned each one a role and explained his Chanakya style battle plan. His son and daughter were taken aback by the audacity but acceded to put forward their best.

Not giving time for the political eggs to hatch, he organised a birthday bash for a 99-year-old, in all the three wards/constituencies. Cajoling the shy old man, he managed a photo shoot. The old man could barely keep his mouth closed. Overwhelmed by joy, he managed to offer a toothless grin. The photo went beyond the print to endear itself to potential voters. Flexi boards sprang up with stamp sized faces of his patron in the Party, dwarfed by this toothless wonder. Being a novel celebration, T V and Print coverage came at no cost.

Another emissary from the Party came with a reprimand and an olive branch - primary membership for his son and daughter. The Calculator thought that the decks are being cleared for the family to contest the first of the polls getting announced- ward/assembly/parliament. He swung into action to devise hitherto unthought of projects to be grounded in his chosen wards/constituencies, whichever goes to the polls first.

To please the Party, he put up dozens of flexi banner, on behalf of his son and daughter, to celebrate a wonder kid’s (Chair’s nephew) nth birthday. With so many contributors to be pleased, the birthday boy and his family managed to get a postage size accommodation apiece.

The ‘Stop the nepo-kids’ a locally assembled toolkit, by a sidelined senior leader, made its rounds in the wards/constituencies. The leader’s grouse - when my kids did not get the lift, why should his kids? The toolkit had the desired effect. The caucus assembled, deliberated and looked up to the Chair. The Chair felt it as an affront to the party (as an insult aimed at the family) and promptly dispatched the fixer.

“The postage sized faces on the flex boards is viewed as a serious insult. Similar antics by a senior neta met with a midnight surgical strike. This neta was only aspiring for a post in government with or without power. Along with the wasted waiting years, he got dumped in the recycle bin. Remember this.

The Party is miffed with you. You have promised to start a de-salination plant in each ward/constituency.  An aggrieved competitor had exposed your personal venture "pipe well” to distribute that drinking water.  The matter did not end there. An investigative journalist had exposed your secret plan to start a bottling plant in the guise offering employment to local youth. If you don’t win, then what will happen to these promises? If you win, where will you get the funds?”

“With foresight I had selected these projects, to bolster the prospects of the party. Am I not taking a risk here, based on the funding and commissioning of the de-salination plant? If successful who would get the credit, me or the party? Why single out my family and our aspirations?”

“This sort of thinking will only dump you in to deep waters, without a safety jacket!”

“Why are you giving me jolts, in instalments? Am I not trying my best to ensure victory in at least three seats for the party?”

“Actually, the issue of overreaching is beyond winning three paltry seats. In fact, the Party was waiting for such bright ideas to spring from the minds of children belonging to the caucus. The party wanted to make a nationwide impact and to project them as saviours, to mitigate the thirst of people and cattle, and at the same time extending a pipeline to tap into the rural vote banks and to make the middle-class voters garden-hose happy.”

Stop wearing that garland, made with bus tickets, train tickets, parking lot tickets and flight tickets, while visiting these wards/constituencies. Where from you got the idea that only two railway tracks are needed to run a train to that constituency? Is it sufficient if you have the red and green flags ready?  How can you promise to bring an airport to a constituency which is no hurry to get connected to somewhere? These half-boiled ideas and promises are not sitting well with the coterie and the chairperson of the Party.”

“Why? I was only trying to draw attention to the fact that I will make these travels accessible to all and thereby endear the voters and deliver three seats in panchayat ward to parliamentary elections!”

“This violates the right of the Party to choose and we are unhappy. This is urgent and important. Stop your daughter from shouting the slogan "if you have the pencil, I am the sharpener". Stop your son carrying a notebook and asking for a pen to write on “How can he guarantee,” if you are ready, you will have a university and a teaching hospital here at your door steps?”

“Oh! they are only trying to make the crowd feel enthusiastic that we are with them and they too could do the same.”

“But the Party feels you are letting loose your kids to outshine some of the dormant youngsters, being groomed to enter the political arena. This transgression is tantamount to cross border conspiracy, akin to collusion with foreign hands to derail the party’s bid to come to power. We take a dim view. Looking at your potential, the Party orders you to have a political advisor. An advisor might have guided to avoid these sorts of pitfalls and prevented you from laying landmines in your own political path.”

The fixer left, leaving the Calculator no option but to redouble his efforts to win over the confidence of the party. Ignoring the suggestion of the fixer, he decided to do it himself. He had generated some newsworthy interest in the local tabloids. Though limited in reach, he would make use of it. This time, instead of projecting it as his brainchild, he would pass it on as the inner thinking of the Party, which always dreamt of helping the poor, downtrodden and the thirsty.

He reappropriated his project/scheme as a grand scheme being planned by the party – piped water to each cattle, hut and houses from the proposed de-salination plant. To maximise the impact of this scheme, he readied a punch line to his rhetoric - “There is no party that dares the twin devils of thirst and hunger?” On retrospection, he discarded the ‘hunger’, to avoid the anger of a dieting (starving) population, he ended up thundering – vote us to quench your thirst.

The active, local toolkit, wired this breaking news and the Party took action at lightning speed. Another heavy weight emissary knocked at the door, at midnight. No preamble. The emissary started right away, “Your egghead, has managed to commit a political suicide. Could you not keep your ideas buried in a pit? The power that be and the waiting for the power that will be are hopping mad at your Himalayan blunder. The Party is seriously annoyed with you.

Now, you have forced our hands to start a de-salination plant in each ward/constituency, where you and family want to contest. Becoming furious, the emissary said,” Do you know how far away is the sea from the wards/constituencies? You did not stop there. You promised to supply drinking water to the neighbouring constituencies too!”

“Perplexed the Calculator asked, “Why this bothers the Party instead of appreciating it?”

“One - you are trying to nurture that constituencies for your family. Two – Instead of going public, you should have handed over this golden idea to the ‘waiting in the wings progenies’ to climb up the ladder. Three - as advised, you have not appointed a political advisor.”

The emissary handed over three covers, expelling them from the party for six years. Later the Calculator came to know that his prepared constituencies will be allotted to trusted lieutenants, who will use his campaign plans. He regretted the decision not to have a political advisor.

The political fiasco and the expulsions left him with shattered dreams. He was in for another shock. His dormant conscience woke up with a vengeance and shouted at him like drill sergeant – “Oh, what a naive fool you had become?”

He asked, “What sort of a sermon is this?

His tormentor replied,” That you are not clever enough to understand how the election wheel turns in the party. Better frame the expulsion notices and probably you can use them as a certificate to reach out to another party! The moral is “climb the political ladder only when told to do so.”