Oh, Man what a dream! 232

The heavenly abode was becoming a place of boredom for Him. With no soldiers to lead in wars and no bad demons to fight against, Ganesha was increasingly becoming restive. And to add to His woes, the pot belly was weighing down more heavily, hampering His movements. His ride, the Mouse had been voicing complaints about the increasing difficulty in carting around the extra burden. In all temerity, his ride even demanded swift action, though aware of His master’s handicap. 

The Doctors in the multi-specialty hospitals, wearing fancy coats, in Devlok have already lifted their collective hands, in despair. Ganesha dismissed their suggestions that He could visit Earth and consult with Doctors, for the nth opinion. He had grouses and reasons for refusing to do so. On Earth, nowadays only a handful of people cared to pray to Him and break the customary coconuts on the eve of His birthday. Students throng during exams, job hunters before interviews and all of them for any other special appeals. 

He was doubly unhappy that many of His idols were kept carelessly in the open and not housed in good shelter and the rituals of bathing, clothing and garlanding given a pass. This act of wanton neglect of believers left Him simmering with anger which only resulted in severe headache and sleepless nights. The fact that the prescribed medicines did nothing to kill the headache added fuel to His anger. His consorts could not find enough convincing arguments and reasoning to make Him understand that times have changed, and He too need to change. 

Their repeated lectures infuriated Him more and drove Him to direct His exasperation at a single source of know it all – Google search> and >Wikipedia>or> any other search engine. 

To divert His attention away from it all, He searched out the old records of past battlefield experiences to re-live and manage the throbbing, monotonous headache. The narrative had been closely supervised and only His close lieutenants were chosen to provide the source material after thorough vetting. He recalled showering His appreciation on these compilers for their monumental efforts, at that time. So He expected no bomb shells or hidden mines to surprise Him.

As He began reading the write up, His elephantine body started to vibrate and the nose cum trunk began to weave around like a windscreen wiper of an automobile. Such were the graphic details of the military exploits and reading about them now, filled Him with nostalgia and exhilarating thrill. He also remembered that these chosen compilers dared to forget the tradition of propitiating Him before embarking on this project. Though He had twisted their ears hard and made them to do 1008 push ups, He was not satisfied. In view of their efforts, He let them go off lightly.

On hindsight, now, He wondered whether more accomplished authors might have embellished the narrative and presented a better version!  He decided to ask Wikipedia to commission for a superbly written version, with additional inputs directly from Him, and pull down the existing one. After all, as a victor He could use the right/privilege to write or rewrite history, which essentially was His story!

Continuing to browse, He came upon the descriptive part on the ritual of smashing the coconuts to smitherns. He mentally thanked one of the lieutenants for having not omitted to describe to the authors how He ferociously smashed the heads of enemies, in the blink of an eye. Based on this narrative, the weak-hearted mortals had chosen coconuts in place of heads of enemies as their customary offering.  

A wry smile played across His face on thinking about the sincerity or lack of it shown by the current crop of job hunters, students and others who stood in front of Him and vowed to keep up their promises, if He helped them, this one time. Each had a different wish to be fulfilled and within a time frame.  He admired their business acumen in asking Him to grant their wish first and then wait for the promised coconuts offering!  He disliked them for giving Him a schedule, but in good faith, most of the times, granted their wishes.

When it was time to fulfil their commitments, they promptly forgot about the coconuts. He felt cheated when these people started using Google maps, to find alternate routes to avoid coming anywhere near the place, where He sat hoping and waiting. This irked Him more than their other acts. Lucky Me, they did not come back and ask for another favour to help them find the coconuts!

The weather, which was steadily worsening, gathering clouds, broke with flashes of brilliant lightning and an ear-splitting thunder. Jolted awake, the man shook his head in confusion and found himself in a near-dark room. His neck and body felt stiff, and his right hand had gone almost numb. He noticed the only light in the gloom was coming from the monitor screen. Coming to his full senses, he found the wireless mouse tightly held in his right-hand palm. Realisation struck him like a truck- he had snoozed in front of his computer, holding the mouse as though for his dear life. 

A daydream, but an interesting one, as long as it lasted – courtesy, the wireless mouse!

Beware of Inscrutable Instructors: 231

The task everyone takes seriously is to instruct someone else, necessary or not. Since birth, Hennu had endured the instructions from parents, relatives, and friends, each relying on their own personalised handbook. He decided to bring out a compendium, including personal experience and gathered intelligence. His lofty aim was to leave a ready reckoner to guide the hapless victims of present and future. This daunting task took him months of research and another two months to draft, redraft and finalise this work. After all, he felt that he owed this much – to give back what he had received.

Fearing a misstep in their efforts to orient the child in the right direction, parents draft and implement a list of ‘dos, “don’ts”. They cleverly insert some friendly advice about making good choices leaving out specifics which have troubled them as a child. It is a revised edition, from their respective childhood days. At that age, the child takes it in good spirit or merely endures it. Few rebellious children resent such instructions, considering them motivated and resist them by initiating counter measures.

When children reach the teenage mark, the parents encounter mild to outright rejections to instructions - even from children, who were earlier happy to go along. The parents working on the assumption that this duty is a lifelong commitment fail to notice these early warning signals. They persist with their instructions and keep waving the big red flag. Little they realise that, like an enraged bull, the children are being goaded by them to breach and trample over parental controls. 

Reaching the teenage barrier, these children come out in the open and declare independence. New recruits strengthen the existing rebellious army. Skirmishes across the parental line of control are constantly staged, leaving the parents emotionally pounded and shaken.  Only a few years from now, the possibility for a truce might emerge.

Next in-line instructors are the self-appointed relatives. They presume to have more leverage, due to an acceptance factor, with the instructed. The exchange rate for this ‘leverage’ varies depending on which relative is instructing - maternal or paternal, grandparents or uncles or aunts! Keeping this acceptance factor in mind, they open handbook of instructions and stream them in the gap between the tutorials given buy the parents. For the receiver, it is like the boring ads shown in between an equally boring movie. 

Another category of well-wisher is the dial-a-friend type instructor. Sometimes, driven to despair by the continued resistance encountered, the parents themselves seek this help. This is a parental ploy, in the guise of back-channel diplomacy. Parents still want to pass on their instructions through this backdoor. Like the camel and tent story, this invited help continues the exhortations – ‘join this course’, ‘apply for that job’, and “ask the Neighbour’s son for help”. This friendly instructor does not let go without selling an appropriate marriage proposal. How would they leave a golden chance to recite instructions from their own handbooks?

The ‘child’, even though now in twenties, does not have any shield to duck under these friendly fires from the rank and file of instructors, lobbed like grenades. These instructors leave nothing to chance or to personal choice from - study, profession, love affair, marriage, luxuries in life and even after-life.

After marriage, a new instructor gladly, along with the old set, takes over – the better half. All those harrowing experiences of parental and relatives’ instructions will be of no avail to face the barrage of instructions that assails the ‘child’, after marriage. This continues unabated even after retirement. No compendium worth the paper it is written on will contain solutions for the victim. 

The last straw on the camel’s back is loaded by sons and daughters. This set of exhaustive and exasperating instructors take complete command of everyday life of the “child” - unrelentingly and unabashedly. When they operate as a team, not even the UNSC will dare to call for a truce to save the ‘child’ from the barrage of instructions.

Hennu was not sure. Who will wear the hat and start instructing if the ‘aged child’ is in a home for the elderly!  Hennu knew very well that at the end of the day, individuals will have to work out their own strategy and best approach, of course depending on the freedom they have!

Footnote: Hennu completed this compendium in secrecy for fear of repercussions from his family members.

The silent spectator: 230

There is a tribe which strictly adheres to the axiom “Silence is golden” as long as it does not affect them or when it affects them. Ambivalent people, the silent spectators!

The moniker “silent spectator” could mean the attitude to external factors and or toward some of the sensory organs of a person. The objective of a silent spectator is to enjoy the excitement without active participation or remain passive when events of impact unfold in plain view.  The person remains silent due to an automated self-defense mechanism. The sole intent and purpose is to avoid further escalation, though soldiers armed to the teeth will be absent in this conflict zone. This person soon gets labelled as apathetic or a coward.

The list organisers of functions and festivals or impatient motorists honking horns or jet liners screeching overhead or personal audio devices, who let loose noise touching intolerable levels– is long and hurting. The unwanted noise that assails the eardrums deserves no sympathy, not even from those who produce it. Though the eardrums want to shout back at them, they succumb to the doubt whether the protests will be heard over and above the din that is being made.

Getting tired, the eardrums play their trump card – become partially deaf as if to extract a small revenge on the unfortunate end users. Even at this state, the eardrums have to remain a silent spectator while the white coated gentleman conducts sound tests and squarely blames the defective hearing system for a fee. With lesser noise to disturb, the eardrums wonder, “Which is fashionable – hearing aid or headphone or an ear plug?”

Next in line are the eyes. People like to read updates on cell phones, laptops and notepads on the go. In their hurry they tend to ignore or often forget reading glasses or lighting conditions or vibrations or dusty environment. The eyes literally have to jump and dance like sand particles on a percussion instrument, and weep over the updates. Paying scant concern to their eyes, people continue updating as if their very existence depends on these acts. The eyes know that these people are not going to do anything to change things but keep hurting themselves.

Back home, the tired eyes have to entertain the fagged-out minds by staying focused on the T V screens. The strained eyes would like to ask “Ok. This is your relaxation what about mine? Do they have any other option except to close their eyes on this unanswered question? They know even a cataract will not prevent these enthusiasts. The maximum the eyes can do for themselves is to let out a drop or two of tear or become bloodshot.

There are people who like to be in touch with others at any time of the day. They rival the networks in gathering, analysing and disseminating information or to pry in to another person’s life at will. In this day of instant news delivery, they even act as runners in a relay race, unmindful of the inconveniences to recipients including the silent spectator present within earshot. The spectator, with ears full of verbiage, chooses to go silent to preserve the fragile peace (guess who is calling/texting?), at home and also to steal a little peace of mind.

Morning walk and newspaper introduces another kind of a silent spectator. If lucky, this person gets to meet with a motorist driving through a one-way street at breakneck speed or jumping a red signal, inviting danger to self and other users. If unlucky, gets to read news items portraying chilling acts of terrorism, murky public life and equally bizarre global shenanigans, of course in complete silence or otherwise gets silenced by the ire of family members. Not even in a position to tackle stray dog menace in the locality, this person promptly boils over and silently forgets to act as soon as breakfast time ends. In extreme cases, this silent spectator meets with similar minded people - only to listen to their lofty opinions and forget the whole thing by lunch time. 

More often than not, logical discussions are avoided even though the points being readied are valid. Issues larger than logical arguments, forces this person - not to speak. Such people can only wishes to be out of earshot and out of sight, which may or may not be possible always!

There is a unique type of silent spectator – suffering on account of other silent spectators. Unfortunately, this forced silent spectator’s roll comes packaged as functions and obligations scripted by harmonic laws, whatever it means! All the elements of music – tune, pitch, amplitude, and frequency fail to sync with each other and the general hubbub of the background. The ordinary variety of the breed fares better in comparison with this special type.

At the end, the silent spectator starts worrying about these things: 

Why is someone snooping around and with what purpose? Why I get the feeling that this whole narrative or part of it appears familiar? Is it a reprint and if so, should I alert the narrator? Though highly agitated, considering all other factors likely to cause further disturbance decides to remain silent!

Unable to lend a voice to right over wrong, once a silent spectator, in all probability that person remains so till the end - with this additional moniker “teeth gnasher”, perhaps? Little appreciation and sympathy might be over due to the species of Silent spectator- “the stress and strain of being one is enormous, kudos brave heart”.

Dear Silent spectators, ordinary or special, do not feel that you are alone in this world. Think of the surveillance camera silently observing everything in view, on a 24 X 7 routine. For all the hard work, is it not eligible for a fitting and an elegant name? There are giants playing in super leagues – the celestial objects watching all of us from astronomical distances!  Still, anything could be worse?  

Yes. In the international level, established, funded and revered institutions there are special silent spectators. Their silence causes more harm than yours and mine, because none of them can honestly claim, to have not been a silent spectator!

Imaginch's brainstorm 229

 It is natural to try and unravel a mystery, when that urge takes control of the mind. It is like what antigens do. They fight till the invader is vanquished. So, what is Imaginch’s problem now? If you ask him, brace yourself, he will give you a PowerPoint presentation. His style of doing things is to impress himself as well as the hapless audience with little more fanfare.  His mission in life is to learn something and hammer with it, on unwilling heads.

Imaginch’s family members and very close friends have learnt their lessons and started to travel on bypass routes. Instead of switching off his thinking machine, this only helped to stir up more storms in his mind. Spurned, he looked at many options and ideas to fuel these storms. He willingly stayed the course to precipitate matters.

He had no dearth for inspiration - Scientists, shooting particles, on round trips in a special tunnel at unimaginable speeds to find out what happens after their head-on collisions; astro-dive into stars and nebulae; going to great depths, in hostile regions, to capture a single elusive particle. When these real scientists, living in the real world, are trying to sneak into the atoms and universe, what can an armchair researcher like him do?

He did not pose this question to anybody and so could easily decide to answer it with a "why not?" Furthermore, in his opinion no one has an exclusive right to inquire and enrich our understanding of matter or any other matter. Also, there is no bar in pursuing knowledge on subjects other than atoms and the universe. His “other than” pursuit required no grants or a chair in an academic institution. His research needed no cutting-edge tools or technology. These justifications seeded Imaginch’s current brainstorm and got it upgraded to severe cyclonic status!  

Years ago, his teachers have impressed upon him that the only way to improve the legibility of his handwriting is to keep practicing with a pencil on paper. Known for his tenacity, he still kept following his teachers’ advice. He armed himself with pencils, erasers, sharpeners and of course ruled A4 sheets thinking, “Who knows, at least the handwriting might become better, at the end?”

He discarded the scientific quests so as not to interfere with their progress- made or being made. Time and again, he had failed to understand the possibility that multiple dimensions exist in the Universe. To make the matter worse, the existence of a multiverse doing the rounds did not help any! He chose not to get deeply involved in these potential quagmires. His reason was simple – more dimensions cause more confusion.

Chronic vertigo prevented him from even climbing a ladder; leave alone the trek into deep space! One thing that still troubled him the most was Einstein’s "magic" - curving of space-time. On a practical level, he did not feel the effect of heavy mass bending space-time, when fully loaded cargo trucks rushed by kicking up only a cloud of airborne dust.

The combination of this confusing "magic" coupled with his failure to comprehend the “trick “started to agitate his brain cells with Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. Not out of the urge to help him, but due to the painful fact that they will be blamed for not comprehending Einstein! When they could not do mind-bending, how would they grasp space-time curving?! Unmindful of his brain cell’s reluctance, he decided to take a tentative step, in his spare time of almost 18 hours in a day - give or take a few minutes.

Letting things go by or not getting ridiculed are not in his DNA. Taking a philosophical outlook, he pacified his misgivings - his attempts would definitely help others to keep their eyes open. Armed with this determination and writing materials, he sat down to contemplate on the proposal: Lifetime -Space-Time. By a master stroke he avoided adding any new dimension (what is fear of dimension called? Can anybody clarify?). He did not forget to invoke and obtain a tacit permission from Einstein to travel in the relativistic train, which he vaguely remembered to have heard about it.

Riding piggyback, he expected the fallout to be of lesser ridicule – at least Einstein had acceptance. He became so obsessed; a collection of neurons and mathematical equations started a St. Vitus’s dance in his mind. Unfortunately, he could not capture these dance moves on paper and his agitated mind added some more neurons and equations to test his perseverance.

Everyone experiences feelings such as sympathetic, apathetic and neutral but with differing perceptions. Maybe by oversight, Einstein might have slipped down here. Precisely that is why Imaginch wanted to delve into it!  Right or wrong, he believed - so far no one has produced a scientific work on these perspectives. He decided an ideal concept for his path breaking work would be to combine the states of minds’ interactions with space-time. After all, the states of mind are also part of this universe- including Einstein’s! If anyone points out, it is all relative - he was ready with the reckoner. Einstein who had already travelled that path using "relativity"!

Imaginch n laid the foundation, on which to build upon his work, starting with a theory and explanation of it from a hypothetical perspective (too early to go personal here). He titled the proposed research paper “Lifetime-Space-Time” and liked the nice ring it had.

Still not out of the woods, doubts arose in his mind like dry leaves taking flight in gusts of wind. Imaginch worried about the ridicule he would have to face. Which Scientist's ideas and concepts have not been ridiculed prematurely, in the past? This thought had the calming effect and decided to bide his time to take them head-on at an opportune moment.

He decided to look for convincing arguments to build the structure of his soon to-become-famous theory. To prove his theory or to disagree with it is somebody else’s headache. This reasoning helped to weaken his inner resistance and to obey his will. Now, he had the example for active perception and passive perceptions. This combined force propelled him onward. This threatened to overrun and smother the remnant resistances- in -hiding and catalysed the mind’s survival instinct, to capitulate and surrender – the neutral perception.

These real-life experiences invigorated and electrified his body and mind. At this stage, what any other scientist would have done – solitary walks in the park? He decided to give it a try hoping a long walk would flood his mind with inspiration to further embellish the discovered “raw diamond” – to help it to sparkle!

On and off, a stray thought also entered his thinking. His brown matter, becoming tired of getting flexed, squeezed and battered, decided to go on the offensive. It triggered the biological clock to go to deep sleep-exactly when he had a fleeting glimpse of a brilliant idea. However he toiled, he could not ignite a spark or a fire to enlighten him.

At times, he slipped into a semi-sleep state, voluntarily. Perplexed family members chose not to disturb him, fearing the nuisance value. Imaginch realised what was happening and decided to use this ruse to gather family-talks, which always ended up blaming him for this or that, whether relevant or irrelevant to the subject matter discussed.

Unwittingly, they have given him an insight – emotional stress. This stress was as important as gravitational stress on the fabric of space-time. Stretching the parallel, he could visualise the effect of emotional stress on “Lifetime”!

Statements and arguments flowed. He put them on paper, carefully clothed in confusing sentences. If a theory could be understood by a casual reading, then it is not worth the paper it is written or printed on. What dismayed and gladdened him, at the same time, was the sight of a growing stack of papers. He was confident that from a bigger stack of draft papers, he would be able to dig out his gem - like a diamond inside a diamond! He took careful measures to safeguard the stack under a heavy paper weight and still refraining from switching on the ceiling fan!

When will he finish the final draft? 

Ten minutes and change.... 228

The Earth rotates on its axis, nearly by 278 km; goes around the sun by 17,833 km.  A human being could cover about 680m. This is what happens in 10 minutes. Imaginch could have cited many more examples but did not want the reader to get distracted and spend more than ten minutes here. 

In this agitated frame of mind, he skipped to mention the reason, leaving the task of decoding to someone else. Imaginch has a hotwired and mercurial temper. And with his dog - finds – the- rag cloth approach, he takes an issue with anything and everything. When this occurred, words liberally dripping with sarcasm search for targets. He did not realise that relationships are built on delicate feelings balanced on knife edges and are damaged by his outbursts. Unmindful, he pilots his train on the chosen single track. 

The “someone else” who had the key to decode this nature happened to be an elder of the house. He had this to say, "trying to do many things; does not know how to go about it; demands acceptance and loses control”. The elder further elaborated with an example: Imaginch’s hotwired brain is primed to go on an instant thought travel. The moment he starts a journey, he would like to reach the destination and list what all he should do there. As an added insurance, he would plan his return trip too! Except fretting, fuming and nail-biting nothing like that happens other than a travel at a traffic-choked pace. At this state, the button to let out the mercurial temper needs only an accidental push. 

Yet, something more was missing to paint the full picture. Armed with the insight provided by the elder, the next “someone else” decided to continue with the process of decoding. - one of Imaginch’s preferred project assistants. This assistant hoped to succeed based on – (1) being unhappy about being drafted forcefully to assist and (2) an interesting exercise in place of the tasked projects which got nowhere. The assistant resorted to secretly observe the subject, sidelining assigned tasks. Others too did the same. Many minds focused on one subject inevitably threw up many conclusions.  

Reviewing them together they were shocked into disbelief – how so many sublevels could hide behind this persona? Given the complexity, they 'tearfully' decided that, like peeling the onion, they would have to probe layer by layer or split their hairs one by one! As it happens in life, Imaginch was unaware of these clandestine attempts to decode him! One of the slightly bright minded assistants convinced the others to go for a further consultation with the elder. He pointed out that they got only the synopsis from him but should get to read the full text!  

The elder was happy to oblige and said, “Imaginch is afflicted with DIY, IMO, IMHO and FOMO syndromes”. Even the slightly bright minded assistant looked lost in the woods. The elder’s cryptic answer was worse than a nightmare - the assistants resembled the confused deer caught in the headlight of an automobile. Having come thus far, they hoped a thorough explanation would follow and decided to sit through it, however bizarre it might sound. 

Why Imaginch has a hotwired mind and mercurial temper? The elder pulled out the “IMO & DIY” markers to explain the hotwired mind. For their benefit, he explained “IMO” means “in my opinion” and “DIY” is “do it yourself”. Imaginch believes in “do it yourself “and to back up his decision he comes out with “in my opinion” arguments. Confusion written all over their faces, the assistants scrambled their brains to help them understand. 

The squirming assistants braced themselves for the next twister, which they expected to come anytime soon. Once started speaking, the elder never paused until he came to the end of his explanation. The elder exhorted them to remember about “IMHO” & “FOMO” and explained it as “in my humble opinion” and “fear of missing out” respectively. When facing a roadblock, Imaginch defends himself with “in my humble opinion” arguments to hide his "fear of missing out” on the help of others. In all, he acts like an inexperienced driver pressing the accelerator instead of hitting the brakes. The elder intoned in a dry voice that could have easily put an insomniac to sleep. The assistants now had to fight against more confusion and drowsiness. 

Unknown to these assistants, Imaginch suspected some shenanigan going on behind his back. He tightened his vigil and prowled like a predator looking for the next meal. When he met with his assistants, their dazed look was more revealing than an open book. He knew who was behind this and yet he would not dare to confront him- the elder could read him like a psychic. Was the talk show they were attending more important than reviewing the projects and discussing additional inputs?

He was about to lose his cool but instead, took deep breaths to calm down. Then he asked them, “Do you believe in whatever the elder said? My personality is more complex than that. I make do with whatever I have, and you all should learn to cope up with what you get". Before leaving, he asked them to go to the top of this page, spend ten minutes and read the opening paragraph. He left them to wonder now what - "back to the elder for guidance or tag along with Imaginch"?

Sorry, Sir we will take care.. 227

During his college days, his class suffered the misfortune of a typical lecturer for a difficult subject. The lecturer exhibited the perfect exhibition of ambidextrous skill - using chalk by the right-hand and duster by the left-hand to wipe away without a pause. This virtuoso act managed to keep the students in perpetual confusion. The students did not get to see a word of the written matter. In place of the students, the blackboard enjoyed free education and a facelift! 

To lessen the impact of these ‘write-erase’ lectures, the students opted to spend their time productively, to combat the resulting boredom. They researched and brought out a seminal work, “Types, classification and genetic determination of posterior craniums”.  Left with little or no energy, they did not attempt to look for a more grandiose looking title -based on Latin, Greek or any other exotic language! Final year exams looming large, some of the students even suggested leaving this avenue open for further exploration to the next batch. In their view, such lecturers neither will retire soon nor change their method of teaching. This left a burning desire in Imaginch’s mind, that if at all, he would become a better teacher. 

This experience was an eye opener.  Imaginch did not want to take it in his stride. He thought, "Why not I do something to smoothen the pitfalls in getting an education".  He chuckled to himself and thought about it as a noble idea! He methodically honed his skills, crammed his mind with information on many subjects, to become a teacher. To deal with difficult concepts, he wanted to use scale models as visual aids. In his opinion it brought fun and clarity to the subject matter. Slowly and steadily, he was inching towards his goal – to become a practical teacher. 

Eagerly he waited for an opportunity. As it often happens in life, his dream gave way to reality, and it swept him away into a different career stream. Years rolled by. His son and daughter were climbing up the education ladder. Though explicitly they did not seek his help, Imaginch unilaterally volunteered, as he could not keep his ambition bottled up forever. Literally he snatched the chance to wear the mantle of a teacher. 

The “recap” classes began whenever he and his children were free. Impromptu improvisations, frivolous points from their textbooks and novel examples chosen were way beyond their requirement and comprehension. Confused looks invited even more elaborate explanations. After enduring the ordeal for some days, the children coolly developed an evasive manoeuvre  to end the session as soon as possible. They simply put upon a bright face and an all-knowing smile. Holidays were not any different. They could only envy the other children who enjoyed holidays with fun and games. 

The ‘all study and no fun’ policy of their father made them unhappy and sore.  Growing tired of the constant barrage in the guise of parental help, they even thought of appealing to the school administration, not to schedule holidays.  On the sidelines the brother and sister decided to-do something that could permanently close down the home-tuition center. Approaching classmates for ideas was discussed and discarded as a bad move. Direct approach promised an uncertain outcome – more of the classes or much more of the classes. It was trouble in capital letters. Out of their dilemma, a gem of an idea emerged. By running the idea under various scanners, they concluded – yeah, let us give it a try. 

Children started interacting with doubts and sought more and more clarifications. Imaginch was not blind to these subtle changes, his children started showing. He felt proud that his practical teaching methods has started yielding dividends.  Though once in a while, the inkling that something else was at play rose and fell in his mind. With term exams round the corner, he shifted his entire focus on it. He impressed on them, “It is important to be able to explain clearly whatever you have understood and don’t hesitate to bring it out” A few days later, two stacks of corrected answer papers greeted him, standing testimony for the children’s grasp and his teaching skill. 

With a triumphant smile, he started to go through them. He was surprised to not that papers relating to subjects he revised exhaustively were missing, in both the stacks. He knew- his son and daughter would not deliberately withhold them. Then what was the issue-this nagging unease started to worry him. The children did not say anything on their own, waiting for him to make the first move. Imaginch broke the ice at dinner time. The children dropped the bombshell - informed him that the teachers wanted to meet with him. The rest of dinner time passed in impregnable silence. Wearing a worried look, Imaginch  called it a day. Having unloaded their burden, the children too quietly withdrew from the scene. 

The next day at school, Imaginch endured an agonising wait. The teachers had classes to attend to. Finally, when they made their appearance, he felt nervous. The silently slid two stacks of withheld test papers in front of him. Growing anxiety and confusion replacing the earlier agony, he glanced through them.  Not to prolong the suspense, one of the teachers said, “Do you know why no marks have been awarded? The kids have been doing well and suddenly why this sort of elaborate and out of syllabus answers? Would you please enlighten us? Another teacher added, “Test papers help us to assess the comprehension of the student and it is important to fine tune outreaching. Sorry sir, we will   take care of them, if you don’t mind”. Then the teachers took time to award and total the marks scored without any further conversation. Imaginch understood the unspoken, subtle hint- “hands off”.

He returned home realizing his role in parenting – not to inject himself into the teaching profession. He admired his children for not having openly blamed him and the ingenious way they chose to send a silent message. Though he felt like coming out of storm clouds wondering, “Was there a need for my teaching?” 

Mr. 1% Scientist 226

For some reason, his grandchildren have started calling him Mr. 1% Scientist. He was dumbfounded and confused in equal measures. Because it was a brand-new moniker and they never used the prefix "Mr", ever before, while addressing him with one of their many “pet” names.

Exuding innocence and dripping with satire, they lobbed this verbal grenade in his direction, “Grandpa do you know, a car mechanic either bends over the engine block or slides under the chassis to locate and rectify the problem!” It was saddening to realise that as a mechanic in the example, he did not even deserve a hydraulic platform for the work!

To teach them the value of perseverance, he had been constantly narrating stories on the failures and struggles of scientists, inventors and pathfinders who then went on to achieve greater things. His current state of affair was due to this over enthusiasm and must have been in the making in their mind, for some time. Imaginch  had only himself to blame. The deeply buried guilt - nothing good had come out of his education or professional experience, surfaced to torment him with a derisive smirk- which he only could feel.

To further electrify their imaginative minds, he chose to dwell upon the trials and tribulations that Edison endured, to finally light up an electric bulb. He rued his failure to highlight the other life-changing inventions, leaving an impression in their minds that Edison did not do anything beyond the bulb. What worried Imaginch the most was “these anecdotes meant to guide them in the future did not make much of an impression on them”.

So, the children conveniently concluded that whoever attempted and failed many times, chasing a one in a hundred chance type success qualified for a moniker. To distinguish from Edison, they came up with the moniker “Mr.1% Scientist”, as a private joke. In one fell swoop, they put him on an express lift shooting up to the hundredth floor and placed him on a pedestal near Mr. Edison. Maybe for a friendly chat or as a means to knock him down. He understood the bitter truth, rather belatedly.

Imaginch was exasperated and at his wits end. This moniker became a nightmare and brought up unpleasant memories of his own failings. “I will have to think of something or otherwise, I will lose everything”. This is not about a business venture going red and south, but his locus standi as a know-all and do-all. With no control to switch off or postpone, he frantically searched for ways to tackle this monster head-on.

One thing became crystal clear from these taunts – a new invention or   writing an original research paper would do for a starter. But his sanity prevailed by pointing out “You never had that drive when in prime, so why talk about some patents and steady flow of ideas now; not a winner but what about a place in the also ran category?” Imaginch understood the implications of this reality check and accepted the painful verdict - like a prey coming face to face with a skilled hunter.

At this juncture, his grandchildren, sweet and mischievous kids, offered an opening and dumped a heap of unserviceable toy collections onto his lap, literally! Their body language silently challenged him to succeed at least in this endeavour. Not to be intimidated by this approach, he hastily assembled the tools and started to marshal the required working knowledge in structural, mechanical and electronic principles. Of course, behind their back and prying eyes.                                                   

This proved frustrating to the aged grey cells of his brain. Their summer vacation and constant presence added heat to the straining neuron bundles. He burnt electric bulbs instead of the proverbial midnight oil- in memory of the Father of electric bulb. Yet the silver lining was a little alone time - from time to time the children were busy giving company to the family TV!

The condensed version of his attempts, failures and despair read like this:

The innovative glues and materials he selected to heal the structural damages resulted in additional broken pieces. Mechanical toys exhibited their own dislike to his handling and refused to get repaired. Improvised repairs carried out on Remote Control toys ended up in a wisp of smoke or run amuck at crazy angles only to crash and break, announcing yet another bunch of failures. His hindsight did not fail to strike the nail squarely on its head - could you have not resisted the temptation of using the express lift and a seat on the pedestal, alongside Edison? Imaginch could only fumble and failed to come up with an answer.

On the day of reckoning, with a sad face he told them, “Yes. It looks like I have failed”. With confidence level nose diving, he was blindsided and did not see the sucker punch coming his way!   The children, eyes twinkling with spark of mischief said, "You are a genius at conjuring up failures. Better luck next time". They silently left the room, not bothering to look at the heap of unrepaired toys.

 He belatedly understood, after the grandchildren left home, that they knew the toys were unserviceable and their grandpa would not be able to make them work. Moniker or not, it was a devastating experience, worse than the accumulating guilt for not having done anything useful.