Imaginch in hinterland 3 - the su do ku solution

Nobody in the right sense will understand that Imaginch means well but puts across badly. The other day a neighbour brought hot “vadas” and his daughter served it in gravy, all to make him taste the good thing, in style. Imaginch saw the proffered dish in a porcelain cup. As he ladled it up with a spoon, a thought struck him. Thinking that it will sound funny, he blurted out aloud “the vadas look like a pair of buffaloes floating in a pond” . It did not occur to him that this wisecrack might be audible up to the house of the neighbour. Worried about the neighbourly relation, his wife and daughter took cudgels against him with a sermon on etiquette and civil nicety. Secretly he cursed himself for the lack of ‘timing’.

The very next day the daughter came under the scanner of Imaginch’s wife. It happened because of a phone call alerting them to watch an episode on cooking and the daughter dutifully passed on that important information.  In the meanwhile, a burning smell emanated from the kitchen and must have reached her before Imaginch’s blocked nostrils could get to work on identifying the cause for that strange smell. Looking over the laptop and in a hurried voice cautioned her mother that something is cooking on the gas range.

Though, he was a standing joke in the house as a person with perennial cold and selective deafness, this epithet acted a shield from adding any addendum to his daughter’s comment.  At other times the same epithet had landed him in verbal duels with almost all the family members who never failed to exhibit unity to find a fault to a fight.  He had this axe to grind with the wife – “When others come under her scanner why single out me for the hammer and tongs?”  At these times, he nostalgically recalled the many ‘episode’ battles he had fought with his daughter or daughter-in-law to wriggle out of the present he-made-mess. May be one day this nagging question might slip out, as always at the wrong time, inviting further wrath.

Wanting to become a crossword buff, Imaginch spent his spare time (idle time  as per the family) in solving the clues, every day. Never in the habit of allowing others to teach or guide him, he patiently tried to unlock the clues all by himself. At the end of the attempt, the finished grid looked  like a patch on the bald man’s pate – a word here and there and no more. He became to be called sarcastically ‘the Vikramaditya of daily crossword” for his unflinching attempts. Disturbances at these times annoyed him and he usually came out with oblique statements only to get stung, like a person putting his hands in the beehive searching for honey. Only he forgot about the honey bees whose store he was to get at.

As it happens many times he missed the obvious – the number game su do ku appearing alongside the daily crossword. His wife has been using this to ward off afternoon beauty sleeps.  At these times even the usual bickering took the back seat. Slowly, the daughters also picked up this format to spend time in contemplation on which number should come where. The casual manner in which they slipped in to silence and peace suddenly appeared to be the viable solution and strategy to raise one more white flag in the house.  Imaginch plunged headlong, literally, in to the number game not before causing a disturbance in the household – a reason to fight over the newspapers and the su do ku appearing in them. He turned to a star power column to see what the stars are predicting and regretted reading “more of the same in the week to follow”.

Hand drawn squares were used and pencils and erasers had a field day, as three or four of the members vied with one another to complete their su do ku assignment first.  Light hearted banter, which once was the nucleus for starting a small scale battle, found willing persons to be the butt of a joke.  Even Imaginch could get away, after evoking a good laugh, with his witty ‘one liners’, timed to perfection, during these times. It helped to lift the veils on pent-up emotions. The family members started looking at Imaginch in a new light as a humorous person.

But for him it was different – he had to conjure up witty remarks and at the same time compete with them in solving a set of papers. Every day it was the same Vikramaditya story but he was determined to conquer the magic square at least once in his life time without extensively resorting to the “redo” routine.  He found time, while doing his paper work, to offer valuable suggestions on how to solve a particular diagram. More often than not, it ended up in the same number staring at each other from top & bottom and left & right of a column and row respectively. The withering looks of irate members of the family did not deter him in making another attempt on another day!

In this process he even came out with philosophical jottings:

“Thinking on behalf of others, without thinking about the consequences, would be dangerous and liable to attract blame in case of a failure because it needs a scape-goat”.

“The best example for selfless sacrifice is not the candle anymore. It has been replaced by a better candidate, in fact, candidates. The paper, pencil and eraser! By simultaneously sharing the burden of sacrifice are they not hinting at the benefits of spreading the joy of sacrifice? Are they not pointing it out that liberation is a co-operative affair and penance in isolation is intimidating?”

In the end,    he was happy to have found a novel method to keep the flag of peace flying – vive la su do ku. At this stage,  his  imaginative mind  took over and found a simple trick to keep the family members engrossed in su do ku as long as possible in a day – he created new 9 X 9 from already solved puzzles with the help of old newspapers. He added enough twist such that the puzzles were tougher than the toughest. How he did? It is a secret which he never allowed the family’s su do ku lovers to know. He knew he had an ironclad insurance policy as long as the secret remained so!

Imaginch in hinterland - part 2 : nOTHING WORKS

That scientific minded friend might have managed to rub some inquisitiveness on to Imaginch’s grey cells. He too started to look at things differently with the eyes of a quick fix mechanic. Eager to get his skills flowing, he raided in to the junk boxes of son, daughter and whatever bits and pieces of broken toys left behind by the grandchildren, after their periodic visits. The specially labelled carton box, actually the one that came along with the new microwave oven, got filled to the brim in no time.

Imaginch categorised them as metal & plastic - toys, curios, sprayers and defunct measuring & musical instruments. To these items, he added plastic & metal wheels, tubes, washers, thin metal strips, screws and other cannibalised parts - out of his own secret cache.  He spent a little time to assess the condition of toys and type of repairs needed.  To set up his one-stop repair shop, he decided that only the adhesives that are capable of bonding anything to everything was the solution. That was when he heard the serious objections from the home front. Objections – yes, he could take them at any time but not the riders - ‘are you good at anything?’, ‘anybody wants these things now?’ etc that came along.

Really he had no answers to the riders but if he had ventured to reply that he was trying to learn the art of mending broken things, his enthusiasm to breathe new life in to these crippled inanimate objects would have died then and there. He opted to remain silent, waiting for the home office to retreat in to her enclave. Like ships finding a safe harbour to ride out a storm, the carton box got pushed under the bed, for the day! For company he shoved his tool kit also along with it.

When the bug bites, Imaginch goes on an overdrive. The next morning, he held a closed door meeting with the items requiring band-aids, splints and surgery. Though averse to anything even remotely connected with the word ‘medicine’, he enjoyed naming levels of his repair programme as 1st, 2nd and 3rd degree – the medical speak to describe the severity of burn injury. He did not hesitate to borrow these medical terms as they did not demand a consulting fee.

Choosing a car with two missing wheels, he laid it on the table to get in to its character. He looked at it from different angles as a painter would inspect the canvas on the easel. The replacement he had in mind was actually discarded caps from a shampoo and hair oil container and that did not deter him at all. They resembled like wheels and that was good enough for him and the substitutes had a very good plus points going in their favour - the cannibalised caps were identical in dimensions to the missing wheels. The catch was that the plastic caps did not have an orifice hole at the center to receive the axle rod.

Though he has heard about computerised wheel alignment process, how to circumvent this technical snag, of non-existing wheel center, raced in his mind for a solution.  He knew the success or failure of repair depended on one ingenious idea. He rummaged in his collections and came up with plastic inserts, which slid inside the inner hollow space of the caps exactly like a cylinder and piston. And each of them had a central hole, solving his problem! Imaginch was overwhelmed by these lucky breaks, in the beginning stages of his maiden attempt.He positioned the car on its side, over the mouth of glass bottles, as wheels to be fixed were on opposite sides and ends of the chassis. As nearly as possible he ensured the axle center coincided with wheel center and completed bonding of the wheel at the top side. Repeating the process he fixed the other wheel at the bottom side of the car. To keep these wheels undisturbed, he built a stable platform by placing a plastic scale atop a bottle, under each wheel.

The manufacturer of the glue had prescribed “24 hours to full bond strength” and he muttered to himself, “Am prepared to wait a little longer too”! And in the same breath, he thanked his hobby for collecting bottles of different sizes and shapes. A wave of pride rose and congratulated him on the homely improvisation - a makeshift hydraulic platform to rest the automobile during its convalescence after repair. He built a barricade around the car to prevent someone from accidentally knocking it down from its lofty perch.

Imaginch felt elated at the thought that his ‘fixing operations’ could be completed without spilling the glue on any of the utility furniture. He was only well aware of the repercussions which would have engulfed him like tsunami waves – initiated by his better half and ably assisted by her sister, who was on a sojourn. With a loving final glance for the day, Imaginch closed the doors and retired to bed hoping to see in his `dreams, the joyous faces of the grand children who were expected to descend on the house any time the next day!

With the morning sun, he rose and went straight away to inspect the repaired toy. After spending a few thoughtful minutes, he gingerly took it in his hands and gently set it on the table. The first check revealed that the bonded wheels had some reservation to roll over the table top. At certain part of the revolution, they appeared to stand on their toes, as if to decide what to do next. Even this ‘goose stepping’ was not done in unison. Each one did it twice in a revolution at different a different interval. He realised his fault in assuming that the caps he had used must be cylindrical in shape. But for some reason the designer had fancied an elliptical shape at the closing end of the caps. Swallowing his disappointment and pride, he proceeded to take the car through its normal routines it had been performing before its imprisonment in the junk box.

The children and grandchildren arrived. Disappointing him, they all trooped in to the kitchen to enquire about the waiting menu. The home front, exuding warmth and smiles all around, started dishing out the delicacies with some homilies. He could not understand - when he dished out such homilies, why all of them fled the scene?  The feast on the taste buds made everyone to forget about Imaginch. The loud discussion about “who was on whatsApp and face book and what recent videos they have shared” interested him in the least. With people having nothing substantive to share around, he thought it would be better to do a vanishing act. He seriously thought about taking a walk in the park or drop in to a friend’s house. Instead, he strode in to the bedroom feeling like a giant bird with sparrow’s wings.

A good three hours elapsed before the grandchildren came to say ‘a hello’ to him. Normally, Imaginch would have ignored them for the indifference they have shown but what came in between them and the wall of anger was his eagerness to present the repaired toy in working condition. Without waiting for a green signal from them, he proceeded with a live demonstration.  At the end of the road show, he expected words of appreciation mixed with a little admiration and awe. He misread their silence as attempts to search for suitable expressions to describe their ‘live’ experience!


The number one said, “Oh, no. You have changed our car in to a reptile. Instead of racing, it is lifting the left front wheel and then the right rear wheel sequentially, like a chameleon!”

The number two was little imaginative and said, “If only you had the front wheels missing, we might have had the pleasure of watching a frog race!”

The numbers three and four were more direct in their approach; they walked out without uttering even a murmur.

Sitting by the side of the orphaned toy, Imaginch concluded: in his land nothing works to his satisfaction or for that matter to anybody’s satisfaction. At this moment he is preoccupied with the thought: “when to roll down the shutters?”

In Imaginch's hinterland - Part1

Something went wrong

Imaginch struck friendships only after a whetting process. He had developed this over the years and included parameters such as likes and dislikes, strength and weakness, phobias and manias. But one category he definitely avoided becoming friends with those belonged to the medical fraternity. This exclusion was not out of hatred but purely because of his morbid fear for medicines, hospitals and of course the doctors.

The friend in question was unique in one respect – views everything with a bit of scientific mind. He has taken it so much to his heart and wears the same glasses even while selecting ingredients for cooking. He has a neatly stocked cupboard in the kitchen stacking varieties of carbs, proteins, fats, vitamins and minerals containing food items. These were kept in seven different coloured containers, for use, day wise.

In addition he has an exclusive setup for mixing his own mineral water. Not to break his allegiance to the periodic table, he tried to use all the minerals except those unfit for human consumption. Even if he does not drink that much water in a day, he never fails to prepare his brand of mineral water at home every day. With 5 liters of purified water he mixes vitamins and minerals potions from drops & syrups prescribed for children. By the way, this spinster happens to be an excellent cook.

The force of curiosity was such; he was pushed to the brink of a war with his exclusion principle to make a onetime exception of entering the fiefdom of medical fraternity. He prepared himself to meet the friend in a multi specialty hospital to get the firsthand information on what went wrong and how. He felt a special friendship deserved that much. the one thing that puzzled him was how a health conscious person could take ill just like that!

The two gentlemen standing at the entrance reminded him of Dwarapalaks guarding the sanctum sanctorum of the main Deity. One gentleman sported an instant smile and welcomed him in to the hubbub of the hospital. The other man, looking a little bit serious, was waving the cabs away from the portico to keep the arrivals area clear.

With lead laden legs, Imaginch approached the reception counter and enquired about the patient to get information on the floor and room number. This act itself took about ten minutes and during the wait time, his mind traveled back and forth in the corridors of the hospital to outguess the information he was likely to be furnished with. This mind game helped him to keep his impatience in check, during such waits. Still he had no clue as to why the friend called him only from the hospital and not before that. After interminable minutes he learned that no such person answering his friend’s name has got admitted in the last few days.

This information unsettled Imaginch. He cursed himself for not remembering to call the friend on mobile instead of knocking at the doors of the reception counter. His mind raced ahead to count the number of possible illness that could have struck the friend without warning and requiring hospitalisation. He looked at the empaneled list of doctors and their specialties to confirm whether his imagined illness of his friend had an able team of doctors to deal with it.

His calls did not reach the friend and the mobile kept on saying ‘the person you have called is speaking to someone else’. Imaginch’s anxiety rose up and he started moving here and there in the corridor , nearly colliding with those entering and exiting the reception area. This made him to stop near the pharmacy where people were standing in Qs with prescription slips and he felt like being part of the mêlée in an ‘advance journey ticket booking counter’. Going by the list of empaneled doctors, he was confident that as many pharma company products would be available at the counter.

A brief vision of doctors in their consulting rooms and wards, wearing logos of pharma companies on their clothes, appeared and vanished.Before his mind’s eye could take him in to the sanctum sanctorium, i.e. the operation theaters, the friend called up on the mobile. Relieved of the nightmare of the theaters, Imaginch chided his friend for not keeping him informed and having kept him anxiously waiting in the reception area of the hospital. He launched in to a monologue listing out all the illness he could remember without giving the other person to say anything.

The friend, having invited an avalanche express, remained in mute silence for the break in the flow of words to cease. Coming down the stair, he looked at Imaginch and said, “I am fine and nothing to worry about my health. I had come here to admit one of my friends. He needs some advice regarding a family matter. I called you because I thought you are in a better position to do so. I never imagined that would bring all sorts of anxieties to your mind. I am sorry!”

Imaginch pulled himself to the ground for the speed with which he had come to a wrong conclusion. He was pensively trying to analyse what went wrong, as he exited through the doors without even bothering to acknowledge the presence of two men welcoming and directing cabs.

Blurtings of Bystander

People read newspapers as a force of habit or to pick out topics for friendly discussions or to get annoyed and vent anger at unreachable corporate and individual entrepreneurs. Roughly the last type boils down to an armchair voice in silent protest. In the cacophony of today’s hustle and bustle, the armchair voice happily falls on deaf ears. Yet, the voice continues to howl. Bystander prided himself to fall in this category and kept pouring out his thoughts on subjects he had opinions.

In his opinion the hectic activity to add high rise buildings only increased the density of concrete jungle elbowing out the real ones for space. With every high rise becoming a mini town, ship loads of coal is burnt to feed its hunger for electricity. In one stroke these ventures manage to raise pollution levels in two or more distant places – the auto exhaust of the ‘mini city dwellers’ and the power plants consuming coal along with the linked coal producer.

The automakers entice people to drive away and enjoy the lush green nature in their diesel gulping SUVs. Is this not an invitation to pollute the natural surroundings and in the streets of the city from which these SUV owners leave for outing? The collusion between the Financiers and Automakers to lure customers with EMIs and the apathy of state governments to pay attention to improve public transportation is only helping the faster degeneration of the atmosphere. To keep their conscience clean the builders might even be prepared to point out the long term effect of pollution on the roads compared to the short duration dust storm they are raising. Probably, they feel secure among the big fishes in Auto Industry and go on building sky scrapers, thinking ‘the dust will settle down soon, somewhere else!

Becoming annoyed with no visible action, Bystander took on the high and mighty asking, “Why the green tribunal and the pollution control boards are keeping quiet without raising its own dust storms? Why these entities and individuals are allowed to go on generating particulate pollution, carbon dioxide and other noxious gaseous enrichment? The guardians of environment and forests strangely remain occupied with other weighty causes rather than the assigned responsibilities while under their very noses environmental havoc, including puncturing the ozone layer is taking place? Why this ominous silence did not bother the public?  Are the NGOs, satisfied with the quantum of exposure in the media, diverting their energies to other channels”?

Bystander silently appealed to any fertile mind, in one of the department of the government, to conjure up this fitting countermeasure – ban air- conditioners in all the 4 wheeler. This will have a sobering effect on the owners of automobiles - they have to roll down the windows only to get the taste of their own medicine – polluted air instead of fresh air!

Surge pricing irked certain governments to serve an ultimatum – fall in line or else. But these governments have not even lifted its little finger daring auto-wallahs fleecing the hapless passengers.  Did these governments try to find out the reason for cab aggregators resorting to such trade practices? If they  had done  so the reasons would have become clearer like graffiti on the wall – less competition , poor public transportation network , absence of dynamic planning and atrocious traffic snarls on any lane, by lane or road. The government in its wisdom might have thought it is easier to issue diktats than improving facilities. Bystander wondered why the only the cab aggregators and not the autos that ply with astronomical fares at any time of the day?  Probably the cab aggregators did not have enough street sense in driving by “App” through the corridors of power!

Bystander was piqued by the sky-high fares demanded by auto-wallahs, at any time of the day. He got so irritated hearing their woes for such a demand. This imaginary lot comes up with reasons such as hike in oil or CNG price, another fare may not available, enhanced insurance premiums and so on. They don’t reduce the fare when the prices go down or explain the need to collect the enhanced premium in every single trip! One thing they do not do is to agree for a fare as per the so called calibrated and mandated ‘meter’. They invariably complain that the ‘meter’ fare is not fair and economical for them! Is this not a collective fleece pricing?

The Corporations can, at least now swing in to action and declare auto stands illegal and seize the offending vehicles. This will have beneficial effects: More autos will be on the roads, instead of idling in the stand, competing to get a trip. Fares will automatically come down to legal limits as the auto meters will come out of their ornamental hibernation to the rescue of anxious passengers. To give teeth to this initiative, respective state governments can enact suitable legislation that bars vehicles used for public transportation from sporting party symbols or colours or icons of choice. If this happens, the traffic cops who have to turn their collective Nelson's eye away from the autos, that do not ply by the meter, need not fear the impact of the party flags painted on them.

He was bamboozled by another news item from a different genre - Kumbhmelas. Gurus with international following, enticing their devotees to follow suit and congregate on the banks of rivers. If their purpose would have been purification of souls at least they could have refrained from polluting the ‘holy’ rivers by avoiding ‘holy dips’ of thousands of devotees. The devotees on their part at least should have realised that ‘holy dips’ and purification of souls happen not necessarily at these melas. They endure unwarranted hardships and in the midst of it all, the Guru says “I am here and will take care take care” and deem it as a divine deliverance.

If only they had recollected their ordeals and survivals prior or during the averment of the Guru, they would have understood ‘I will take care’ may simply mean ‘have a good day’, which most of us say with or without really meaning it, or like the doctors assuring ‘we will take care’! These congregations reminded him of the story of the Pied Piper!

The devotees having experienced ‘the miracle’ do not want to let go and keep busy for days to share the miracle-facet of their Gurus to believers and skeptics alike. Perhaps this gives them a chance to develop detachment from this earthly life without even thinking about the attachment they are developing to this or that jet-set Guru. They don’t even pause to ask why the target audiences belong to different faiths and cultural backgrounds. Or about the obvious – the ‘disenchantment with their establishments and disillusionment with their ways of life’ might be the reasons rather than the thirst to master the tenets of a religion foreign to them’ do not occur to these devotees anyways. The pontiffs’ discourses on T V even give rise to doubts whether the pontiffs themselves have understood this ‘foreign angle’. Do they realise that they are initiating a subtle form of domestic violence in many households?

Bystander spent considerable time in finding out an answer to these questions: “If mass spiritual cleaning is required why not adopt garbage choked lakes and save their souls from destruction. Why these jet-set Gurus and their million of followers do not embark on ‘swasth melas’ in the unhygienic wards of Public hospitals or in the slums alongside the railway tracks? Whether such an act can be deemed as a process to purify the souls and to liberate them from the cycle of karma”?

Patiently, waiting for an oracle Bystander started gazing at the passing summer clouds. May be the miracle Gurus are teaming up to bless the snow white clouds to start raining!

Mosquitoes don't fly high & other episodes

When Imaginch came back after visiting his daughter, the family members were all eager to know about the trip. He liked to dramatise simple happenings and assumed the role of an inspired story teller, to test their staying power with his narration. His wife, son and the second daughter put up with his theatrical performance partly to admire his imaginative presentation and for another important reason. They had their own set of reservations about this daughter in question – she had a mind of her own and never refrained from an argument worrying about the fall outs. They had even stopped calling her by childhood nicknames and advised close relatives to do the same.  Such was her character and what made them wonder was how her husband and in-laws were standing up to her!

This indirectly gave Imaginch a handle on the family member’s patience to go about narrating events of interest in his own sweet pace. He was actually taking a revenge of sorts on them, for not paying due attention to whatever he had to say, during any other time. During the return journey he had  ample  time to plan this narration which helped him to avoid the boredom of a long journey.

Torn apart:

On the first day, we went out for the dinner reluctantly. I, my son-in-law and his parents did not like the idea of travel and wait at a crowded restaurant. I sensed an air of discomfort blowing among them but had no clue to the possible reason. The daughter sat at the wheel thus forcing us to get in to the car silently. Not being familiar with the geography I could not understand why my son-in-law was huffing and puffing at periodic intervals. To make the matter worse, a sudden down pour decided to greet us at the steps of the overcrowded restaurant – some had come to eat and many had come in to take shelter. The feared long wait and my distaste for such kind of food made me to make a tongue-out of-cheek comment “I cook better than this junk of a meal”.

As I had made this statement in a tone that left the listeners confused - whether to take it as a joke or a sarcastic comment, but it must have hurt my daughter's sensibilities deeply. This only served to remind her ‘how my culinary offerings had offended her taste buds and the frank manner in which she used to criticise my skills’. She said in matter of fact voice, “Events have a funny way of catching up with debris standing in the way of a maelstrom. The debris gets a free ride and relocation, without its consent but after a battering. Debris feels nothing and has no voice to protest. A sympathetic mind only can empathise with it but gives no solace to the debris. The dumb debris lies in wait for another maelstrom! In comparison the debris is better than the waves in the ocean; it is perennial battering for the waves and once in a while rough treatment for the debris”.

The dinner tasted acerbic even after drinking a liter of mineral water. In one go she had me turning in circles and wondering what bug has bitten her! The others had no clue what so ever!

Needle of suspicion:

On the second day, the maid servant, who usually came at 7 AM, did not turn up for work without prior intimation. The annoyance showed in the way my daughter was moving about in the kitchen. We had breakfast in stony silence. My son-in-law found out an excuse to go out of sight leaving the elders to choose our own escape routes! His father decided to go and buy some vegetables which were not immediately required. I did not know what to do and her mother-in-law started sorting out laundry clothes. The maid showed up around 10 A.M. She neither asked for the reason nor offered the customary snacks and tea to the maid. The maid understood the situation and hurriedly finished the works to be off from the scene as early as possible. All of us were wondering why such a fuss about a maid coming late for work.

Around noon, some animated conversation started doing its round. I was reading news papers and did not pay much attention to their family discussion. Taking turns, the four of them were making points and counterpoints on some serious matter. A while later, my daughter came out saying, “Suspicion is an interpretation of one’s lack of trust. The thinking that ‘I knew it all along ' or ‘you failed to notice it' might sound strange and fails to avoid arguments, unpleasantness and hurt”.

Later I came to know this sermon was in defense of the servant maid’s honesty and the cause was a missing wallet. Even if I had been a party to the discussions, I would not have pointed my needle of suspicion at the maid. I had enough reasons to be wary. Getting and retaining a dependable domestic help has been bothering her now and then! Once, when I complained about the services being rendered, she challenged me to find a better person. She had said, “The maid is honest and that is it”.

The next day, the wallet was found intact with the vegetable vendor, where her forgetful father-in-law had left it!

Mosquitoes don’t fly high:

On the third day, we attended a birthday function in the apartment building. The gift bearing friends trooped in one by one at the scheduled time. In spite of hectic activity, the Madam of the house was on hand, at the door, to receive the guests with a smile and close the door soon after. This act was a little perplexing to all of us and the Master of the house, in an undertone asked her, “why”? The Madam scaling octaves said “I have not invited these mosquitoes for the party”. The snide remark must have hurt many in the gathering and the hubbub became a whisper.

When situation demanded something, it did not bother my daughter to be forthright. “The fact that you are in 7th floor should mean something to the starved mosquitoes; they are not eagles to soar in the air, fly high and land on your shoulders. Try fumigating the lift instead of shutting the door after the guests”.  The stunned silence and uneasy calm that hung in the air must have made the party a memorable one, at least for the uninvited mosquitoes who have piggybacked in to the flat with guests. None of us wanted to question her whether the mosquitoes can fly high or not of fumigation would be effective.

Mark of respect:

This happened on the fourth day of my stay. Just before dinner time, my son-in-law was showing me their family treasure - an album plus a collection of faded photo-prints kept separately in covers. His parents obviously enjoyed this routine as it rekindled their old memories. The non-stop chatter and my ‘disinterested’ interest in the proceedings must have made my daughter to fly off the handle. “Indifference is an emotional bankruptcy and in the absence of etiquette it squirts out at the wrong place”. None of us, especially me, could understand the reason for this one liner. Like flicking a speck of dirt, she directed at me a high voltage glare as if to drive home the point.

I looked at her with my annoying, confused smile which invited her to have a go at me. She said, “Try to fill a bottle, by straight away immersing it, the water resists getting into the bottle as long as it wants to. But can it refuse. During this struggle the water learns to respect and waits patiently at the mouth to give way for the entrapped air to escape. If such a harmonious adjustment could be managed by water and air why not we show respect!

Chastened by her mark of respect speech, I started to highlight the hidden features in all the photos on view. The alarming look in my son-in-law’s face only encouraged me to go on and on. After a decent interval he called for a break to safely put them away, till next time!

The gift horse:

The fifth day of my stay coincided with their weekly holidays. My daughter and son-in-law wanted to go on a pleasure trip and wanted me to accompany them. A satisfying bath in the water falls, leisurely stroll in a verdant park and visit to a hill for a panoramic view filled the days with pleasant experiences. On the way back, my son-in-law suddenly remembered a friend’s request for a gift article. The friend, it appeared had given detailed instructions for selecting the gift item. A mall offered the opportunity and we grabbed it.

Having had a bitter experience and exactly for the same reason, I said, “Buying a gift on behalf of another person, under specific instructions, can turn out to be an unforgettable experience. The set of instructions given does not come to your mind at that precise moment of purchase or you foolishly try to interpret those instructions according to the situation or presume that your choice will be agreeable to both the ‘giver’ and ‘receiver’. You find yourself in a super mess – made in a mall!”

Not to be left behind, my daughter spared some of her erudite thoughts, “If the story of Adam & Eve and the temptation for the forbidden fruit is familiar to you, with whom you will sympathise – Adam or Eve? More often than not will it not be Mr. Adam? If this is agreeable then by the same logic will you not be the sucker!

After hearing what we had said, my son-in-law dropped the idea of buying a gift article on behalf of someone who might look in to the mouth of a gifted horse.

After narrating these episodes, Imaginch reminisced: Sometimes an innocuous action of buying a gift article, suspecting an honest person, and going out for dinner, looking at family photographs or sharing space with mosquitoes in a birthday party could turn out to be an unforgettable experience.

Muser adjudicates - Point, silly point and run out

A point made in a conversation reveals the background of knowledge and experience. A counter point presents another view. An argument arises if the presenters on both sides stick to their respective point without looking at the merit in the other view.  When arguments become more vocal, points made in frustration look like silly points to defend one’s original point.  At this point in the argument even silly points extend a helping hand and the stranded argument runs out of steam to walk back in defeat.

On hearing this preamble, Tom and Bystander sat like puzzled stones. They were not able to get in to  thought process of Muser. In this perplexed state, another matter that worried them was ‘why the invitation from Muser'?, which always meant one more dose of indictment.

Muser asked Bystander, “Why you got irritated when Tom presented his views and were you not thinking it was easy to argue with a person unsure of his ability to counter another person"? Bystander had to keep quiet sensing the accuracy of the remarks, amounting to a verbal denouncement. Turning to Tom who was also becoming uncomfortable, Muser said “Have you not yet come out of the thrill of finding a reason to annoy Bystander, now and then. Did it not occur, to both of you,that squabbling like children had in no way added value to the art of babysitting"?

Bystander did not want to contradict Muser  but said, “If Tom knew of certain things, I knew a little more about them. I only used the same points raised by Tom to set things in right perspective which was all that happened”. “So, you thought you were better informed than the other and it did not strike you a little farfetched thinking”?  Muser did not fail to pint out the feeling of “know all” attitude of Bystander.

“Why did you provoke Bystander by asking whether he agreed with the points you made? I hope it was not done to get your friend’s appreciation! On hearing this comment from Muser, it was Tom’s turn to fall silent.  He did not spare Bystander and asked, “Why you rushed to take the bait and made a show of strength"?

Muser demanded to know, “How to pacify a crying child is for the parents to decide.  For that moment parents are the child specialists. Analysing and imputing non-existent meanings is definitely out of your purview. In the same manner only parents can decide about how the child develops physically and mentally. No doubt parents will welcome a known person keeping the child engaged and kindling its curiosity but can we take it beyond a point"?

“The quote from Newton was interesting and it applied only up to our times in the past. Now the children get to train with many audio-visual aids thoughtfully provided by parents and playschools.  In this context, the views expressed by both of you, for and against, have become redundant, yet it was good that both of you touched up on that skill development in a child - protégé or not. Who can deny the fact that watching a child on show is a pleasure"!

Tom and Bystander felt relieved to hear these down-to earth views of Muser and realised that in any vocation, enthusiasm is different from practicality. This feeling of relief was short lived as Muser started to question their standing as child Psychologists in talking about dos and donts for a babysitter.

Looking at both, he asked, “Will it not be equally right to say that the child is also the facilitator in the art of babysitting? Is it in good taste to look for only the negative approach in a babysitter for whom his/her ward is unique? How one can presume only prejudices, notions and traits of the babysitter will be imparted to the child"?

Continuing on the same theme, Muser said, “The well being of a child, discipline and preparing it to manage expectations and disappointments are really out of bounds of a babysitter. If the rapport between the babysitter and the child is excellent, then it is a plus point that is all. Consider pampering of a child as a two-way traffic; letting the ‘pamperer’ and the pampered feel happy!  In such a context excessive, moderate or meager are relative terms and reads like a weather bulletin"!

“No doubt, the child may not need the babysitter as a backseat driver later on, but this should not be an excuse to forgo the chance to take the child to get a driver’s license! Unless the parents have confidence, no one can become a babysitter. Probably they believe the bonding of the young and old also is important. I have a feeling that this gesture is a delayed reaction mechanism allowing the previous two generations in tallying their accounts of commissions and omissions, benefiting the third generation children. They only can encash an unsigned check using innocent smile as facsimile signature"!

When Muser finished, Tom and Bystander understood how they should have viewed the role of a babysitter. Tom cursed his eagerness and Bystander his ego in dealing with the matter. They started to appreciate the way in which Muser had made them feel sorry for the rivalry they had exhibited. They agreed with his intent and purpose: thunder and lightning cannot exist without the cloud and on trivial issues friends should not become strangers on the street.

Taming the time - part1

Muser felt annoyed by the attitude shown by some of his friends, especially Bystander's sons and Tom's daughters. Time and again he has been hearing their complaints about time, rather the lack of it! He was hard put to understand how this universal quantity could vary from person to person. Falling outside the realm of Einstein’s relativity, he himself had felt time running out when in joy or walking dead slow during periods of sadness.

This paradox has another parallel, for quite opposite reasons – when days run out on students feeling the tension, during preparation for exams, and days taking unduly long time in the case of young hearts looking forward to their wedding. But what reasons Bystander and Tom had?

Muser decided to dig to the bottom of the matter and see what came up? There was a personal angle too in this quest which made him redouble his efforts to find and bell the cat. The catalysts for this timely reaction had come from two of his friends and he, a writer with jumbo sized imaginative ego, became the reactant. In the recent past, the stagnating throughput from his desk started to diminish the returns on his efforts.

Frustrated, he became his own devil’s advocate but was dissatisfied with the received advises that lacked conviction. It only helped in doubling his annoyance at his close friends.

He set to work to make them to realise what a excuse they were making as a cover up. Armed with a calculator he figured out that there are 86400 seconds or 1440 minutes in a day. The mathematics was not reassuring and he decided to ‘spend the minutes’ as his friends would be doing in a day. This approach looked better, at least to his mind, and stared the process of checking out where every minute of the day was going. Striving to be a perfectionist, if a need arose to argue with someone, Muser meticulously timed their expenditure to find out why they are not free to spare him a little help.

The fact that his friends lived in different parts of the country did not deter him in carrying out this census but the task was time consuming. His inner mind comforted him by pointing out that he need not even step out of the continent for this work. Anyhow he wanted to enjoy their company and rile them a bit!

In all, Muser spent about three weeks for staying with his friends, on invitation of course, to complete his time-study and another three days to prepare a draft copy of his findings:

Muser was aware that certain activities in a person’s life are considered essential and demand a major chunk of time in a day. Work and travel in the city traffic having become an integral part of professional life, it accounted for ten hours or 600 minutes. To provide support for the day to day requirements of the family another four hours or 240 minutes are spent in shopping, socialising and other household works to be carried out. To keep up going through this grinding routine day after day, rest and recuperation in the form of sleep needs eight hours or 480 minutes. Here he paused to count the remaining time in a day which came to just 2 hours or 120 minutes.

Appreciating the value of these minutes, he went over his notes to pinpoint activities that are essential, productive and unproductive yet jostling for a pie from this remainder. He felt compelled, at this point of time, to empathise with finance ministers who split hairs and juggle the numbers to present annual budgets.

Under essential category he put an hour of T V time as this can turn productive for planning next day’s agenda or to relieve stresses brought from workplace. If reading and exercise could be dovetailed with the TV programmes, this one hour could be turned in to most productive phase of the day.  He did not want to get in to an argument on this as anyway the time is spent in front of the T V. Even under the guise of exchange of information unproductive complaints and gossips cannot be ruled out from taking its due share of 30 minutes in a day. Muser wondered ‘What could not be done in the remaining 30 minutes of time, every day and why these habitual multi-taskers could not take up my papers , at least on the sidelines?'

These most valuable minutes of the day can be spent to get in touch with relatives and friends. Pending correspondences can be completed. Personal hobbies and development activities can be pursued. The specialty about this golden 30 minutes is this: it can fit in to any of the time slot in a day! In the case of a studious person, the entire 30 minutes can be earmarked to complete a specific task by careful planning. He estimated that about 30 to 40 minutes are essential to read his article and send comments by e-mail, unless extensive interactions are required. So far they have not complained about lack of clarity in the subject matter or cogent presentation of thoughts.

Muser wanted to ask them, “When the two of you never fail to boast about your planning acumen, why not come together to share, review and send comments?  Do I have friends who cannot spare this little time every week to help reading a draft? Don’t they know that when somebody asking for a favour is actually showing you a favour? Don’t they know that to read someone’s draft is a privilege extended to a worthy person?”

All these homework did not help him to find an answer to his question “Why his friends kept on complaining about lack of time?” He decided to confront them with his compiled data and see how they would react to it. If serious objections were raised, he was prepared to carry out another elaborate time-study on them since he had been a little liberal on the first count!