Dieting Tom.

The pet cat, Tom had grown too big in size for its age. The owners, themselves obese, fed him with fat rich food and leftovers whether Tom was hungry or not.

Initially Tom was reluctant to approach the food bowl, at odd hours, but the pampering owners threatened him with words and deeds. In the end he gave up all the pretence of being a disciplined eater and joined the crowd, happily.

This extravagant life style, of eating and sleeping, had two undesirable effects on Tom. He could not easily get up from the floor or sofa on being commanded.

The joy of walking on compound wall or jumping down from it became out of bounds. He could not understand the effect of force of gravity vis a vis his unshapely build. Even the soft padded, paws stared hurting.

Once he even tried to imitate the mistress of the house to get on to a weighing scale. He did not become any wiser on looking at the swinging needle coming to a stop against some number.

The worst insult was heaped on him by a stray mouse in the garden. A manicured garden surrounded all four sides of the house. Before the days of obesity and inertia, he chased flies and butterflies for fun and to keep fit. Occasionally, he nibbled at the blades of grass liking the sweetish taste of the green stalk.

It never crossed his mind that as a cat he was supposed to go after a mouse or mice. Happy days that were!

This bitterness over powered the nostalgia. He could not digest the fact that a simple, skinny looking mouse gave him the slip. The misunderstanding, the mouse had over the chase was even more excruciating. How Tom could have communicated to the mouse that the chase was just for fun and not out of a killer instinct?

Like a tornado, these two incidents sucked away his tranquillity and peace of mind, leaving him a very worried cat.

One day, Tom noticed from his supine position on the floor, that a stranger was engaged in an animated discussion with the mistress. The mistress was vigorously nodding her head and wildly signaling with her arms.

Once or twice both the stranger and the mistress stole a glance at Tom. This electrified Tom with thoughts of dire consequences for him – eviction from the house or admission to a pet clinic.

He miserably failed to grasp the essence that the conversation was about an exercise regime for the mistress to shed excess weight. He had no way knowing that her doctor had already warned her of impending consequences and declared that now itself, it was too late.

Tom spent the next few days, in unbearable suspense, loosing appetite for meals. The plate was left untouched and the very smell of the food or the sight of the plate, made him to retch.

The mistress was very busy in the gym, sweating it out, breathing fire and romping in the garden. The grass blades bore the brunt of her ferocity and humbly withered away.

Tom did not understand any of these frenzied activities and noticed only one thing – his carving for rich food at all times of the day was slowly diminishing.

He tried to get up from the floor at the footfall of the mistress. Though she did not notice it, she had her own weighty problems to ponder about, Tom felt light and happy.

Then the mistress noticed the nearly untouched plate in front of Tom. She called the maid servant and asked her why Tom was not eating?

Had she asked him, Tom would have told her his version for the hunger strike. Also he would have told her that he was feeling fine and light.

Known for taking exparte decisions, the mistress called for a veterinary ambulance, showed a struggling Tom inside and sat with him for the short drive.

Doctors surrounded Tom, investigated and pronounced that but for a little over weight nothing was there to worry about. For that positive pronouncement, the mistress pulled out few currency notes and brought him home by  car( by that time the car had been sent to the clinic by the alert maid servant).

The doctors must have prescribed some restriction and Tom was happy to see the mound of food reduced to a handful. Toned milk replaced cream-rich variety. Feeding hours got regularized.

Feeling elated, he thought to show his appreciation of her caring gestures. He accompanied her on her garden stomping (still she had not shed a kilogram of her weight) and playfully started giving her a chase. These appreciative gestures went unnoticed and Tom decided to do some thing about it.

After a brief siesta, he drew up two plans for action. One to give her the fright of her life by jumping on to her from a height at the least expected moment. Two, he wanted to teach a fitting lesson to that insulting mouse, in the garden, if at all it was still there.

Tom wanted to prepare himself for these tasks on hand. He slowly got on to the compound wall and, holding his heart in the mouth, he made a slow stroll, followed by a gait and ended up with a trot. Except for a little panting, he was pleased with his efforts.

To give the chase of its life, Tom embarked on sprint running, on the carpet in the living room. He braked himself at the appropriate edges and stayed with in the carpet area. His confidence level rose up like a whale surfacing to breath.

He chose his time well to execute the jump down. He hopped on to the door at the entrance of the hall and lay in wait for the mistress to make an entry.

She came along with a visitor. Timing it perfect to a millimetre, Tom jumped from the door, emitting a contented purr, aiming to land on her shoulder. The landing was perfect, rivalling the accuracy with which space probes land on chosen sites.

The banshee jump produced the desired effect. The unexpected furry landing sent the mistress in to the fright orbits, dropping the costly cell phone to bounce and split open on the floor. Tom felt as if he had watched a horror movie with a comical ending.

Moments of speechlessness passed and she literally shrank in shame for exhibiting fear in front of a visitor. Shaking with rage, she threw her sandals at Tom. In confusion, he ran in to the garden.

Exactly at that time the errant mouse crossed in front of him. Tom needed no other catalyst. The welling anger pumped more and more adrenalin initiating a formula one race. The mouse was out run and out manoeuvred all around the garden. In fright and fighting for life, the mouse forgot the escape routes. Tom chased the mouse to his heart’s content and finally let it survive the scare for that day.

The achiever Tom majestically walked in to the house, careful not to come across the mistress for the present. The mistress of the house instructed the maid servant to cut down further the quantum of food in Tom’s plate.

Tom enjoyed being fit, a little hungry and getting rid of rich food at odd times. The mouse made it a point not come with in chasing distance of Tom.

Snail in the house.

The snail hails from mullusc lineage and belongs to gastropods clan. If one was an etymologist, will he translate it to mean a “creature shaped like a long narrow container, to safely keep its stomach, bowels and other vital organs”?

This is a pretty long description for non- descript snail!

Till few decades ago, the saying “born with a golden spoon or a silver spoon or a wooden spoon” was used to describe the social status of the affluent, moderate and the miserable. Being self centric, the linguists never thought to add “a born with a shell” tag and attribute it to describe something.

By this thoughtless omission, the species such as Tortoise, Turtle, Scallop, Barnacle, Crab and Snail feel ostracised.

To carry on with the business and pleasure, nature has provided Snail with certain special features - the shell what we see on its back.

The vital organs such as heart, lung, stomach, kidney and reproductive tracts are kept in this safety vault.

It lays  its own road for travel , a smooth path, almost like that of a magnetically levitating mono-rail car or a hover craft skimming over water.

The pedal gland dispenses the needed viscous liquid and the Snail slithers over it – a smooth ride, free of cost! Natural and a novel technique!  Eyes, positioned atop the anterior tentacles, give it a periscopic view of the land lying ahead of it.
Similar, periscopic - view sensor was fitted on the Mars rover- Pathfinder. In this aspect, the snail is a competitor to us – already has an eye on planet Mars!

The creator has given it “patience” as a virtue and a “slow and steady” attitude to achieve its goals. Mr. or Mrs. Snail believes, it to be prudent to work and live at the same place.
Probably this thinking made the snail to carry its own living quarters, while on the move. No worry about lease, rent and utility charges.

If you chance up on a snail and ask this question, “How are you able to manage at this slow pace?”  In all probability the reply will be some thing like this:

“I go about my business and living. I feel, this question must have come to your mind, probably based on the story of a race between a hare & tortoise. To begin with, that story itself might have been an imaginary one.

In my case another person might have repeated the race, mentally, between a tortoise and a snail for the sake variety.

He coined the word snail’s pace and you people bought it. But, I would say this – even this comparative epithet has a touch of truth in it. Yes, I try to win the race of living – at my own pace”

It became little serious and asked, “Why degrade me with the phrases such as – snail’s pace & snail’s mail? You create all your bottle necks yourselves and have a poor mail delivery system.

With all these shortcomings, is it fair to blame me, by referring to my stately gait & non-existent mail delivery system?

Is it not a snailful, from a highly contemplative creature?

The Snail busied itself in searching out garden moss for lunch or supper- unmindful of our presence. Truly an ISO 9000 creature – says what it will do and does what it said – going about its own business!

Little Typhoon Strikes Back. -80-

The young typhoon was just let loose from the school, conveniently camouflaged as study holidays. What struck me odd was why someone like her needs holidays to study? That too this Typhoon will only indulge in various other activities, other than the intended one.

Sure, she will have plans to study in depth, the capacity and knowledge of others (read me – the Muser) in her own inimitable style.

The activities listed in her mental calendar would have been something like this (compiled with hindsight, of course):

Day 1: Garden plants

I explained to her how plants make their own food – because she always used say that “I made this or that” The discussion started with leaf structure, chlorophyll, sun light, water, co2 and the process of photosynthesis.

Why the leaves appear green, composition of light, VIBGYOR (rainbow) and then I explained to her that the leaf takes in VIBYOR and rejects G, VIBGYOR-G=VIBYOR. The G is now the color of the leaf.

Rapt attention, thinking and then she asked this question: if the sun light has only VIBYOR then what the plants will do?

If we illuminate the garden with VIBYOR light, then how the plants will look like … Green?

For both, I did not know the answer. End of Botanical session and on Day 1, she won!

Day 2: Examples generally, used, in speaking

I was telling her that a particular locality is within 2km ,as the crow flies.

Seizing the chance, she questioned, “How can you say that the distance is within 2 km, as the crow flies?”

I let her know that “The crow flies by shortest distance that is why”

Still, not convinced she said, “The crows as they fly, move to left or right and never in a straight line?”

Becoming a little concerned, I clarified “Exactly that is all I said”

Confused she queried again, “but you just now said they fly in a straight line?”

To which I replied, “Yes, now listen. Can you walk in a straight line on the road? Now and then don’t you step aside to the right or left? Likewise, the crow also tries to maintain a straight line as it flies”.

She stumped me by asking, “Show me one crow that flies straight and then only I will believe that crows fly in a straight line!” Day Two ended in a draw.

Day3: Doubts
She came with a well rehearsed question. She wanted to know why tutoring is required when one is attending school.

Not to introduce other ideas in to her imaginative mind, I explained to her that a farmer prepares the fields, plants saplings, and waters & manures them till harvest time. This way each seed sown gives him many grains.

Similarly, tutoring is nothing but a continuing study and the time invested now will get her good marks in the exams.

After a few moments of silence, a salvo of doubts poured out.
1. Farmer gets more grains from one seed. Likewise, more time on the same subject should get me more time only and not marks.
2. What I will do with more time, re-invest and get some more time?

Do I see a banker, in the making? Stunned I became silent. Should have held my tongue, knowing that girl, but conversationally I slipped and cited the example “What you sow is what you reap”. Yes, in my case it turned out to be 100% right.

Thus ended a close encounter on Day 3, in which she won.

Day 4: Further doubts

Targeting the animal kingdom, she thoughtfully brought an Encyclopedia for reference. You are wondering as to what is her age, is it not?

I don’t because of the above said “what you sow is what you reap” example. We had spent considerable time on turning the pages and even before that she had fed herself with a diet of Jurassic Park animals, Triassic Park ( park added by me for rhyming) animals etc.

Which is the strongest – dinosaurs, brontosaurs, megalosaurus? Where all those animals have gone?  What is meant by strong? – These are her doubts.

After hearing all the soul stirring explanations, on the extinction of these animals by huge asteroid impacts, continental drifts and severe climatic changes etc, she stopped me in my tracks by simply saying “Yesterday, I saw many dinosaurs” (must have been in TV !)

This left me wondering whether she has any further doubts like this! She condescended to say “no further doubts” saving me for the day.

She claimed yet another victory and concluded Day 4.

Day 5:  General Knowledge

She came in, with mischief written large over her face. That look warned me of a tripping session – objective, as always, to catch me sporting a blink. This child can beat Cray-XK6, any day. From previous answers she can deftly frame questions for a later session. This is, probably, her secret of being a perpetual Q-Bank.

Q1: Who found VIBGYOR in the sun light?
A1: A great scientist called Sir Isaac Newton.

Q2; why you are calling him Sir, was he your teacher?
A2: No. He was honoured with a “Sir” title by the Queen of England.

Q3. How am I able to see things?
A3: Light reflected from the things travel in to your eyes and falls on the retina. That is how you see them.

Q4. Who invented the Telephone?
A4. Alexander Bell.

Q5. Was he your teacher?
A5. No. why are you asking me like that?

She explained – Sir Isaac Newton was not your teacher. There is no ‘Sir’ for Alexander Bell; hence, I thought he might have been your teacher. I was left speechless, wondering what a bright idea Typhoon ji!

Q6. Who invented Idly?  On this question, I lost Day 5

I silently cursed the School Authorities, for declaring study holidays for this kid. She sure must be kept there for special classes - very comfortable and at a safe distance from me.

The Ashy Aurum 79.

It was a strange sight- Muser & bystander going in to a huddle, as we have seen umpteen numbers of times during 50-50 or T20 matches. In the cricket field, it helped the teams to focus to win or at least to give a stiff fight. But to what purpose this Muser-Bystander huddle was being held - is an Arthur Conan Doyle mystery.

Insider information is that, such a one-to-one is held only in extreme distressed condition. The insider conveniently remained silent on who could be the stressed party? Usually the deliberations on one-to one basis come to the open, if one of them speaks out. In this case who that will be and on what it will be?

Not to intrude in to their privacy, the Onlooker, the neighbourhood spook, moved out of earshot. However he was not sure whether the 1000 ton gold lying buried could be the topic of discussion, as Muser is known to get worked up on any thing and everything.

To pass time, the Onlooker decided to participate with them in an imaginary panel discussion. He mentally paraphrased the essence of their animated discussion like this:

If you are a godman, know the rich historical fact from the past, have worriless nights to spend in dreamland, have gullible following –public or otherwise- wake up! You have a one (ton) in a bullion chance to get in to the media of a different kind -print and electronic.

Now, what all you have to do is this- stare at the lenses and mouth your words in to the mikes. To soup up the affair a bit, read out (extempore will be befitting the occasion) a prepared statement like “…the digging must be completed by such and such a day or otherwise the gold treasure will turn in to a heap of ash..” for the golden moment.

Dear godman you have packed enough ominous punch and rest assured, the rest will be taken care of by your legion of gullible followers. Some time back, somebody said that “The gullibility in the population is proportional to their predilection to the sayings of the ‘past-seers and dream merchants”.

Later this population will be joined by or headed by the semi-sane ‘…….dom’ and start digging vigorously. The purposes might be devious – the gullible population trying to bury their frustrations and the semi-sane ‘…….dom’ to bury their credibility in a deeper niche. Thus, when science mixed with ‘spirit’ is a dangerous and heady cocktail, spinning the world of the gullible out of control.

At the end of the digging, if the godman’s idea was to create a big reservoir for storing rain water- he has succeeded rather admirably in his ambition. Alternatively, if he was aiming for a cut in the treasure – he ends up with a bleeding nose and bruised reputation.

Coming to the gullible public diggers, if physical fitness was their objective, after this exercise they will walk like Tarzans. As far as the semi-sane ‘…….dom’ is concerned, if their aim was to test out gadgets and machinery's, their objectives would have been met.

The third party to the effort, the rulers – if their ruse was to divert the attention of the subjects, they succeeded the most and got enough breathing space to take the stream & steam out of detractors – Callgate, Coalgate and Tollgate, spending public money to entertain the public.

At the end, the Onlooker had a doubt whether his summary of the discussion, in absentia, was factual.  With this great agitating in his mind, he decided to wait for the official briefing from one of them.

When Muser & bystander concluded their huddle, they came out with the following joint communiqué:

“We hope not that a nuclear sadhu next comes out with a vision that “such and such a place has so many tons of buried uranium and plutonium in ready to use condition. It has to be dug out with in a specific time frame or else volcanoes will erupt, rivers will dry up and earth/sea/moon-quakes will gobble up our country…

We do hope that the gullible public and the semi-sane ‘…….dom’ remember the earlier golden ash story and do nothing about this nuclear sadhu’s latest revelations. We are not asking too much, any way all of us do remember the adage ‘once bitten twice shy’ very well.

The only saddened lot could be the financial wizards – if the earlier dream would have come true the gold could have immensely benefited the economy in near and short terms. If the second dream also had become fruitful, the nuclear & power sector might have got such a fillip – near, short, medium, long and very long terms. In a joint statement the nuclear lobby and the Power lobby might be tempted to point out to the fact that the half-life of these radio active materials out run generations. It would have been prudent to start dig…. with out ignoring the “active” revelation”

The Onlooker felt happy that his wait was worth, in tons of gold or plutonium, after hearing the furious details of the huddled conversation which matched more or less with his surmise.

The ending punch lines are :  The elated Onlooker coined a catchy slogan and said it aloud a few times , for the feel of it. The slogan ran like this - "Lure and lode sure make a hole .. jolly or holy"

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.

Rattled by a rat !

Going to a temple was not in my regular time table. This gets altered only at the time of important events - like tough exams and when expecting a cat on the wall result.

But my mom had other ideas for Fridays and Saturdays. Come what may, she would insist, prevail and force us – me and my brother- to visit the sanctum sanctorum of Gods & Goddesses. She was trying to keep us in their good books.

We trudged along unwillingly, listening to interesting anecdotes- not necessarily about Gods & Goddesses, on the way to the temple. She used to teach hymns and keep us busy and interested.

Slowly, like water flow eroding solid rocks, I began to like these trips and eagerly looked forward to the arrival of Fridays & Saturdays in the calendar. Bakthi and fun – an amalgamating force, binding us, closely.

At that time of this incident, we were living in a rented house and I happened to overhear Mrs. House Owner (HO) talking to my mom about the “Snake God” in a temple at a distant place.

I became interested when Mrs. HO described the “Snake God” as powerful and had blessed some of the devotees with a “Darshan” – if they were lucky. Curiosity and intrigue got the better of me.

Slowly a role reversal took place and I started pestering my mother to take us to that temple. Fridays & Saturdays visits were confined to the Temples in our locality and the chance to travel some distance (to visit the new temple) appealed to my brother too.

He lent his voice in support. What else could my Mom have done? She relented with attached conditions, a fine print, of dos & don’ts.

When we agreed, she decided to visit with her friend residing nearby the temple and then have the Darshan of “Snake God”

My mom’s friend was an actress and I presumed they must have become acquainted through a mutual friend. When I told this to my brother, (of course out of ear shot of my mother), he asked me how that mutual friend might have become a friend of that actress.

She welcomed us and with a devout face and said, “Hope all of you would be blessed to day”.  I had my own reservations about that statement – might be she was exhibiting her acting skills.

Soon we started our expectant march towards the temple of Nagamma, as the snake God was called in the local dialect.

It is customary for a regular devotee, to pay his respect to Lord Ganesha – the deity with an elephant head and trunk. He is held dear by the devotees for the simplicity and amenability to worship.

A lump of turmeric paste or wet clay was all that was needed, in place of sculpted idols, to worship Him. As far as garlands and flowers are concerned He left the choice to the devotee themselves. Accepted them if so desired by them. A piece of jaggery, coconut and steamed pulse was a luxurious offering  He was immensely pleased with.

He did not mind to bless the devotees from the shade of a tree or a temple. That simplicity and approachability might have made me an ardent devotee of Him.  Now and then I used to wonder, “How many thousands of coconuts that have broken at the altar. Where He would keep an account of the figure?”

But that day, over come by eagerness, I dragged my mom to the abode of Nagamma, with out paying respects to Him.

The abode of Nagamma was located in a room which housed a huge earthen mound. To me at that age it looked like a Lilliputian volcano with multiple vents.

May be it was an anthill which Nagamma had simply taken over! Her abode was decorated with vermillion, turmeric, flowers, lemon and what not!  At that point, when I was imbibing in the atmosphere, my mom said “Nagamma resides here”. To me Nagamma appeared as a trench woman - a voracious eater. Not to make her feel the pangs of hunger, the devotees offered a variety fare – milk and eggs.

Slowly but steadily I rose on my toes: to get a better view of her abode and to peep for a glimpse of her. So engrossed I was in my attempt, I could not respond to my brains message that some thing, cold and furry was crawling over my foot. The ever alert sensory nerves have processed and sent that message in a few milliseconds. To make the matter worse, my frightened mind stared seeing Giga pixels of pythons,the chance to travel some distance (to visit the new temple) appealed to my brother also.

So engrossed I was in my attempt, I could not respond to my brain's message that some thing, cold and furry was crawling over my foot. The ever alert sensory nerves have processed and sent that message in a few milliseconds. To make the matter worse, my frightened mind stared seeing Giga pixels of pythons, cobras, anacondas and a host of other snake families.

Slowly but steadily I rose on my toes: to get a better view of her abode and to peep for a glimpse of her. So engrossed I was in my attempt, I could not respond to my brains message that some thing, cold and furry was crawling over my foot. The ever alert sensory nerves have processed and sent that message in a few milliseconds. To make the matter worse, my frightened mind stared seeing Giga pixels of pythons, cobras, anacondas and a host of other snake families.
I stood paralyzed but as the adrenalin raced by, I started running a 100m dash as if to break all the world records set by men and women athletes. I was mouthing my fear in incoherent dialect, which even my mom could not understand. In between the gibberish, I was shouting from the top of my lungs as if the day light had been scared out of me.

After few minutes, I stood rooted and cursed and questioned myself “what have I done? In my panic, I had totally forgotten that I have left my brother and mom still standing near the abode of Nagamma.

The very thought, that I had run away leaving them, made me blush. Though I was about to break the barrier and cry, I saw them approaching me with a big grin plastered all over their faces.

To soothe my frightened nerves, my mom explained that it was only a rat that slid over my foot. She even joked that Lord Ganesha must have sent his aide to teach me a lesson, for not paying my respect to Him first!

Believe it or not, even to this day, I get goose bumps when visiting Nagamma in her abode, so I pay my respects from a distance. Lord Ganesha gets the first attendance – exams or not!

P.S.:I had a helping hand from Muser in re-drafting this episode.For a change he became my editor!

Dhomalu Sings

The credit goes to Dr. Ronald Ross, working in India, for doggedly focusing his blood smeared glass slides under the microscope. The effort started slowly to yield fruits – the moment of reckoning, the “eureka” of Archimedes lit his tired eyes like a bolt of lightning.

At last he had nailed the culprit who was spreading malarial fever at will. A typical strain of mosquitoes, anopheles, was acting as a carrier in dispensing this fever to any one, it was able to approach, with disdain. The clinching proof on the misdeeds of this species came during his work in Hyderabad. 

This effort resulted in being honoured with a Nobel Prize, the question of which Hyderabad can now be debated, once again, with passion – over plates of hyderabadi (or) Karachi biryani.

The anopheles mosquito has strongly entrenched itself, in the hot and humid climes of the earth, more preferentially in the Southern hemisphere. Probably it had been stamped a mosquito non grata in the regions near the poles - too cold for its comfort.

Quinines came to the rescue to mitigate the sufferings of those contracted with malarial fever. Even then it eked out its dues by way of body pains and weakness and left the patient with a sour distaste in 

the mouth.

Following the Quinines, sprays, coils, mats and oils made their appearance one by one. The mosquito retaliated; mutating & becoming drug-resistant. They gripped the mankind with another type of fever – the ‘dengue’. What a never say die attitude!

The mosquitoes woke the mankind from slumber and to act – fanned the fires of scientific innovation. Mankind produced the sidewinder missile – borrowing heat seeking technology from the mosquitoes. 

The humming noise, of the mosquito inspired Gnats and the name for the pilot-less drones.  These implements of war amply served the plans of aggrandizement and superiority complex of leaders professing world peace.

Apart from the science of destruction, the mosquito galvanized medical & pharmaceutical researches; brought branches of mathematics and physics in – vector and vector control. Malarial fever was classified as a vector borne disease! Simply stated mosquitoes carry and spread the infection from a host – a sort of blood to blood delivery system. This tiny insect has really nudged the humanity with its droning and biting.

The response of the humanity smacked of selfishness and as usual – the affluent with well laid out drainage system (of course government funded) became recluse and gave no audience to the dear mosquito.

The sandwich strata – the middle class, protected themselves with coils, mats, nets and oils, to mange and keep the drones away from biting distance.

The slum dwellers and the electorates in Panchayat Raj elections are the ones who are left to cringe under the attack of mosquitoes, in waves and in all seasons. 

The reason: the netas & babus who live in ivory towers have neither time (busy promoting their own causes) nor the money (already well spent in their neighbourhood).

The remedy: uprooting all the Panchayat Raj electorates – house, cattle and hay, and sandwich them in the posh lay-outs. Carry out, a similar exercise with the slum dwellers - tin       sheds, goats and tools of their trades. This way the society becomes all inclusive and the malarial fever and the mosquito bites are equitably shared.

**Dhomalu means Mosquitoe in Telugu.