Drenching and indulging in such droplets from the ocean of knowledge, what is the use of my research to humanity? Parents remain oblivious of it, faces of kith and kin remain nonplussed. Conclusions from my research don’t reduce the auto fare of my next city travel. So is the unbudging gasoline fare. Global warming continues unabated. My research doesn’t promise a cooling for the top of the World or me. Such elitist polish my intelligence generates name me a scientist. But feeds only me. World remains hungry. Accomplished loneliness elevates and relegates.
Research that doesn’t scale new peaks of insight, forge new paths, solve a problem yet to be conceived, realize the solution for a grand puzzle; isn’t such research useless tinsel that merely add a diffident gloss to the creative books of Newton, Darwin or Gauss. Staring hard with myopic intensity, with such research one begets peer acknowledgment. A peer reviewed research paper bears my authorship. Enables me to coax a few to accept my competence for a while. Cajole I can, a few more, upon continuance of such authorship. Can even make some belch in jealous indigestion. At most, can grow two inches taller amidst my peer group. A while later, someone else will naturally surface up two more inches and I will belch.
Sometimes a few would jump up even higher; seemingly out of our world. Like fishes in a pond.
A fantastic pond. Enliven with fishes that intently avoid drowning by wagging the tail, bobbing the head above the waves, smelling the enemies and fame around. They won’t close their eyes in sorrow or sleep. Steadfast in pursuit to ensure sustenance. From the banks such dance is alluring. Even the fish would appear blue blooded. From the banks, fantasy is unfathomable.
Children clap as they watch the jumping fish. Tempted, they attempt to mimic the swim and jump. The obvious energy expended in such actions undulate and churn the pond surface. Enthused, fish fly about. And repose in accomplished stillness. They immerse; to feel as azhwars.
In the morning the fish transform to rooster and cackle. The pond would churl until the banks. Jumping fish that reach higher are caught in the nets. Their effort get monetized. Hatched in the commerce, chopped into quarters, they are served as canned food with champagne for businessmen. Some fish despise the commercial can. They time their jump to catch the prize, to become a prized academy catch.
As the town develops, industrialization envelops. Sewer seek the pond in newer ways. Fish sympathize, endure and agonize. They select the glitter in the shining sewer. Nature frowns inexorably, climate change, convection capsizes and leaves the pond with stinking slush. Fish become rats and scamper. The bandicoots begin to eat the rats. The educated yield and run for the shores. They suffocate and vacate. The daunted twaddle and the darned die out.
Anyway, no soul escape the pond as fish.
Fantastic pond. Children grow up and pass by.
Fish into large fish, Magic unto Maya
Blessed be the Immortal Wealth, be Blessed