Armchair Walking (expanded) – A Bystander prescription

    

      

Walking is an exercise, in necessity or to maintain physical well being. Those involved in this form of activity would have never imagined the hidden danger – physical harm. Yet somehow they manage to adjust to the realities and continue with their exercise.

Bystander knew Mr.Strider since childhood. This front row observation has resulted in characterizing the man and his walk. Mr Strider developed the habit of walking as a routine, almost five decades ago, and continues with it even today. 

In the initial days and up to his teens, it was to save a few paise to augment his pocket money. Really it was these paise coins which constituted his corpus fund as the practice of giving pocket money, for the day today needs, was not an in-thing, in those times. 

He employed a simple modus operandi, walk part of the distance to be travelled and then board a bus, such that his destination fell between one ticketing stage to another, to save 3 or 5 paise. Wait! In those days even the amount of 3 paise could get you something.

He once told Bystander that in this way, by skipping & stage hopping, he could save money for an occasional cinema or a visit to an eatery. While recounting these experiences, his face glowed, at the thought of having achieved an economical miracle, to enhance his purchasing power.

Obviously a micro-economist in the making!

He has done reasonably well – benefitting health and considerable, well earned money. He often used to say “a paisa saved is a paisa earned”

But Bystander did not fail to detect a small disturbance playing in the mind of Mr Strider. It took him nearly 3 days and 3 or 4 chance meetings in super markets, bank premises and courier offices. Strange - as it may appear, but possible in real life. A breeze of nostalgia did its best to uncork the emotions, between bosom friends trying to make up for those years spent on non-contact.

Bystander surmised that Mr.Strider was worried about something but was sure that it was not regarding wealth. Mr Strider did not attach too much importance on this count as he still maintained his frugal nature. Doesn’t habit die hard?

During the ensuing discussion, Bystander understood that for a compulsive walker like Mr. Strider, the roads are becoming dangerous by the day and may be, the fear for personal safety might be worrying him. 

It has been his experience too and after many narrow misses on the road, had spent sessions on thinking, to formulate a set of safety rules for such a compulsive or a compelled walker. 

Bystander, not in the habit of passing up an opportunity to share his wisdom, decided to proclaim his set of road safety rules, to a willing audience.

“You can wear a helmet with miner’s lamp and this will help you to safely walk during early mornings and after sunset. At least you can switch the head light on to warn mobikes, auto & tempo-walahs. They don’t come with lights blazing”. 

“Better fit turning indicators, on front & back of your shoulders. You can warn the riders & walkers that you intend to turn left or right! Many times, pedestrians themselves would get in to your path, blocking it or colliding with you!

“It would be nice to have a parking light and a red light, in a convenient location on your back. Better make your intention clear for whoever cares to notice and act. 

“Why to forgo the satisfaction of letting others know – you are in parking mood (will stay put for a brief period) or  will be parked ( remain there for a longer time). This will avoid you getting immobilised for a longer period, in a hospital bed!

“As an improvement to the turning indicators, hang a gadget, at chest or abdomen level, having LT, RT arrows and a straight arrow. You will look like a mobile signal post!

“Like cricketers, wear an arm and shim guard to avoid glancing hits from mobile riders, out on the roads to showcase their weaving skills.

“Forget not your feet – wear armoured shoes to avoid getting your toes crushed at zebra crossings by signal jumpers. You will encounter with them at any given signal and at any given time of the day!

Mr.Strider heard through all the suggestions – they appeared logical and at the same time highly impractical. Having known Bystander for long, Strider wondered within himself – has he ever given a practical solution!

Not wishing to hurt Bystander in any way, he politely said, “With all these gadgets on my person, I would either look like a robot or an astronaut.



Where is the pleasure in walking? Simply I can sit at home, is it not?

                               

This was not the last on the matter. Bystander had a ready final say – “Take to armchair walking, by all means. It is very safe!” 

Mr. Strider, after a contemplative silence, blurted out, “If I follow these suggestions, then me and my walk will become history”.

The moment he heard the word history, Bystander seized this opportunity to assuage Mr. Strider, of his philosophical hurt. He launched wholeheartedly into another one of his monologues – this time on his take on history.

"I have analysed the history of the origin of history and came to certain funny conclusions.

Accordingly, the earlier chroniclers (later day historians) attempted to record the happenings around them, under the title “This Story”. 

It was more or less the glorified daily diary -   some of us have the habit of writing. Both had only personal value.

“This Story” had no place for hero worship and the impact of the story had local limits.

Next time around, the chroniclers, not being comfortable with this free-lance tag, decided to choose the personal deeds of a popular figure, which can exert some influence on the people as well as his own livelihood. 

Thus began the cult of a local hero and hero worship. “This Story” became “his Story” probably the chroniclers felt the remuneration was not commensurate with the toil and simply dropped the letter ‘T’ from the title. 

This is the beginning of ‘paid news’. This nomenclature is often heard doing the rounds during elections, in our time.

In the next stage, by this time power centres have sprung up everywhere and, the desire leave a good record, of achievements, dawned in the minds of the powerful. 

Their eyes fell on the chroniclers to showcase them as shining examples of valour, chivalry, political acumen and kindness , excluding acts of cruelty of course! A beginning in the art of selective reporting or simply a weak version of censorship.

The chroniclers thus became professionals – in the pay of their respective masters. This kind of  briefs brought tremendous pressure on their conscience but the fear of  wrath and the lure of comfort applied a n equal but a lateral force. Their conscience caved in.

This lateral force was also felt by the words in the title “His Story”. They gave up the space separating them ,  and fused into a single word History !”.  A stress relief at the fault line.

As in the exploits of the extolled, someone had to suffer – yes, one “S” dropped dead!

Is it not said that ‘history is written by the victor, of the victor and for the victor’   

Nice cliché to end the musings, don’t you think ?"

The monologue on the story of history came to an end.

At the end, Mr. Strider had nothing to say, partly out of confusion and partly out of fear for Bystanders’ repertoire of monologues.

Teflon Man Arranges.

In life, some occasions need elaborate arrangements. Some individuals are themselves capable of managing every thing - the 'all- in -all' personalities.

Few lack this capacity. These people necessarily, depend on the support of friends & relatives. There are reasons for such a crutch-leaning.

They are afraid of making a mess of it, afraid of criticism or plain lack of self confidence.
Otherwise, these people might be capable of many   feats. They are content to try and manage things within their limitations.

Outwardly, they appear as parasites or imbeciles in the eyes of the family members & relatives- this dependency gets branded as – ‘a floating point’

A friend of mine narrated his experience in arranging the marriage functions of his son and daughter, with in a short time gap.

I know him to be a workaholic yet had been planning for these marriages, in his mind and in his own way. His mind works like a clam, shutting everything in.

His wife started reminding him of the parental responsibility, urging him to look for a suitable bride for their son. My friend became a little frightened at the prospect of managing innumerable tasks for such a celebration.

He remained evasive for a while and mentally called up on his favourite deities, friends & relatives – sending SOS to kindly to lead him through the arrangements.

His favourite deities, in benevolent mood, might have decided to extend a helping hand. The boy broke the news that he was in love. He had already convinced his mother and together they brought the proposal for his approval.

My friend felt elated that he has crossed the halfway mark without any effort. He readily said yes, surprising both mother and son. They were expecting an avalanche to sweep them off or a volcano to explode and erupt.

I looked at him searchingly. Understanding the meaning of my look, he explained the reason for his decision. “All along I have been secretly wishing that at least my son will do so - as I had no such courage, either to fall in love or to announce an affair”.

His wife had many friends and relatives; he had a few colleagues – to organise the rest of the formalities.

My friend still felt apprehensive and I could understand that, knowing the way he works – every thing should follow a pre-determined course and unchanged. His wife was the anti-thesis for this straight-jacketed approach – ready for changes & challenges.

Adhering to such a just in time schedule, that too in a marriage function, is really asking for the impossible. My friend has the habit of becoming boorish and letting others know it- purely an over reaction of reflexes on delays and deviations.

This helped only to rub salt in the wounds of wrong persons- all for nothing and though, really not meaning to.

At every opportunity, his behaviour at the time of this function or that function was recalled with snide. On these occasions, my friend also felt hurt and remorseful but he never talked about his feelings.
He meant well but did not convey it well – this he knew.

After two years, he came to my house again with an invitation card for his daughter’s marriage.
He had not changed much and looked ever so tense. He is such a person who cracks a joke in all seriousness and used to say that a little seriousness was lacking in “seriousness itself”.

He appeared to relax a bit and filled me in with the details, thus far. He said he was relieved when his daughter took him in to confidence to announce her love affair.

Probably from her perceptions, she might have expected a big bang. Feeling happy, he had offered to standby her - if at all a need arose.

The daughter might have anticipated a showdown and was perplexed why daddy readily waved the green flag?

There was this interplay – a quid pro quo. Daughter agreed to let him insert a pull out with his blog address along with the marriage invitation!

This might appear to anyone as a cheap bargain. To me it was his way expressing a desire to write. I knew him better than you, girl!

I and My friend used to discuss about the way the girl child is caged in tradition. He wanted them to enjoy more freedom and hated that they only had to shore up the prestige & tradition of the khandaan.

The vehemence, in his arguments used to unsettle me at times but that was his passion speaking. He never showed these feelings, openly.

He visited me, whenever he felt irritant - new issues, changes in settled plan or even a small request which was normally accepted.

He would talk about it, expecting no advice. He himself will inform, after some time, that the issues have been amicably resolved and only he had been foolish.

With me, he tried to be honest in accepting a little of his flaws. To make such statements, a lot of courage is required and he had that.

What, he did not have was finesse!

I had it and so did not point out his short comings.

He stood by his word and married off his daughter in style, as she wished. Now he had a new circle of friends from the boy’s family too  and was quite happy about that.

This is the complexity of his mind. He is affectionate but will not to show it. He is friendly, yet unwilling, to cooperate. He cares but appears unconcerned.

A paradox and puzzle, rolled in to one.

I know him very well. We are childhood friends; hail from the same native, lived in the same street and in adjacent houses.

Though we don’t run into each other often, clairvoyance existed between us, to sense each others feelings.

His family background or positional stresses might be the underlying reason for his out of sync attitude.

As a friend I never advised him nor tried to pry loose his secrets.

I once asked him, “Why don’t you open up and express your thoughts?”

His reply was revealing. “If I go on telling my views, people let go of their past feelings/opinions, latch on to my words and turn them around like in a grappling hook. It has neither helped me nor them”

I understood why he appears to remain aloof.

He is a Teflon man – it sticks to the base and does not allow other things to stick to it.

If not for 'One Legged Crow' - 1.

Muser had two other special friends, who were his colleagues. They were quite different from his other friends – composed, pragmatic and jovial. They were Mr.BV, a hostel mate like muser, and SK, who stayed with his parents near by the Company.

Due to the insistence of the duo, the muser reluctantly agreed to apply for a post in a government organization, along with them. The Government Organization was then looking for candidates with industrial experience.
The trio initially shared staying accommodation with an Administrative Officer, on pro-rata rent basis. After a year or so each one of them became eligible for individual quarters.

When the Muser became eligible for the individual quarters, he took in two of his acquaintances-Ravi & Iyer. They were working for an Electrical Engineering Company based out of Madras. Their company was carrying out erecting & commissioning of electrical switch gears and other equipments. Soon the 30’ X 12’ hall became their living quarters.

Wherever the Muser was, strains of musical notes would fill the air. Drawing from his previous experience (earthen pots & speaker elements) he came up with an idea, making his favorite singer’s voice to travel, literally, along the walls of their 30’ x 12’ hall.

Using a rotary switch (with multiple terminals), a spare tape-recorder drive motor and sets of radio speakers he designed a change-over system, which functioned flawlessly, from the 1st switch contact to the last without missing even a single musical note.

In a rare exhilarated mood, Muser invited his best friends and over cups of steaming black coffee (java-juice) he declared his home made audio system operational.

The gathering was speechless when, 30 odd speakers, sequentially played the musical notes from the tape. The song kept racing like a cyclist in a velodrome. The sight of several speaker units hanging from the wall was like bats hanging from tree branches.

Every one appreciated the ingenuity and took leave. BV, SK, Ravi & Iyer stayed back as all of them had to go for dinner together. Out of the blue sky a sudden bolt of a question struck the Muser. He was asked, by BV & SK, “What would have happened if you had not been inspired by the Lame Crow?”

Muser never expected them to remember that incident after that many years. Muser fell silent for a moment as his friends had asked that question then after 5 odd years.

Muser did not miss a beat and said “I would have joined a Pain Balm company (or) a small scale fertilizer industry (or) a pharmaceutical company”.

His confidence was due to the fact that the then Managing Director of a Balm company was his Chemistry Professor and had been renewing a job offer for the muser in his Lab. Also, his maternal uncle had influence in many Fertilizer & Pharmaceutical companies.

The Muser further said that he probably would have become a self made inventor.

He assured his friends that he would have made something of his life rather than languishing.

What the Muser did not know then was that such sound systems were going to be marketed by International Audio system manufacturers.

Complex of sentences.

The all powerful was a short statured and short tempered man. Anybody entering the sanctum sanctorum did so on his/her own peril. But he was a little considerate toward the she-gender. The only difference was that the papers put up for approval did not take the aerial route to reach the applicant.

The maverick cum novice was an avid reader novels! Believing strongly that these authors’ style was good enough, he always prepared written technical communications using many colons, semi-colons and other punctuation marks except the full stop.

He took pride in drafting a paragraph, of running matter, literally driving the words replete with adjectives, conjunctions, adverbs and what nots.

His labour produced a three page technical note and as the it s important, he personally took it up to The Boss for perusal and approval.

Muted arguments could be heard, as he waited in the ante-chamber room to gain entry in to the sanctum sanctorum. A colleague, with a sheaf of papers, rushed out wiping his face with a hk.

Cursing his bad luck, maverick-novice entered the inner chamber and placed the  note on the table with trepidation. Seconds became minutes and the minutes became half-an-hour.

Finally, the Boss said “can you not write in simple sentences (or) is it that you have a complex that allows you to write only in this manner?”. Then he scrawled an “I agree” on the note and said “See how simple this is?”

Later on the novice came to know that The Boss did not like to read complex sentences. The novice cursed himself as to “why he did not think of reading the whole note and got it approved in seconds?”

12 “2” watch and 2 to do.

A dim-wit started wondering why a task carried out by two or three individuals is always mentioned as team work.

He wanted to investigate and undertook visiting other work places on one pretext or other. He became very observant on these visits and maintained a detailed account for a few months.

At the end he summarized his perception of team work like this: If a job is watched by twelve or more persons when the actual job is being carried out by two or three persons it is called “team work”.

[The narrative though set in a specific environment , could have taken place in any private / government organization. This setting helps the reader spin their own yarn :) ]

Shake well before use.

The new entrant was given the job of mixing liquid ingredients with a catalyst for use in a painting application. The new entrant was little assuming in nature and prided himself in doing things without being told.

He proceeded to mix the composition and started the application. After a time gap, his senior came to inspect the completed job. When he touched the surface his fingers became wet with the paint. The senior man understood the situation and calmly said “It is advisable to shake the bottle before use” and left the scene without another word. When the reality struck him, the new entrant understood very clearly the wisdom of shaking the bottle before use.

The senior man and the new entrant then started a guru-shishya relationship which later blossomed in to a family friendship!

[The narrative though set in a specific environment , could have taken place in a paint manufacturer's test lab. This setting helps the reader spin their own yarn :) ]

The case of too much and not that much.

 

On a particular morning, a quality inspector was called to obtain a stage clearance. With difficulty (so he said) he reached the work spot after a half-an-hour delay. This guy liked to fish in troubled waters hence looked for opportunity to put others in trouble. Simply stated he liked to hear his own voice with or without echo.

He gave lot of instructions and directed a lot of people to measure an object of 2753mm length. The measurement came to 2754 mm. When everybody had made up their mind that this is a good job, our friend thought otherwise. He insisted that the error be rectified and pontified, as even 0.1mm difference will not be tolerated,under his nose. He further made a statement that '1mm variation in 2753mmlength was too much'. To dispense away with his presence, the facility reworked and got the measurement right when he was avidly engaged in conversation and momentarily distracted from the activity.

For the final inspection in the evening, the same quality inspector was called. This time there was an excess of 2mm noticed in the finished dimension of 347 mm. remembering the morning episode, the facility offered to correct it.

To the surprise of all, the quality inspector said “2mm variation is not that much and can be left as it is”

[The narrative though set in a specific environment , could have taken place in a metal pipe manufacturing industry. This setting helps the reader spin their own yarn :) ]