School education in sedate somnambulant Shivajinagar had historically never been a participant in the race for global dominance and aggressive competition. Shivajinagar itself had shunned the prevalent tendency of larger, more glamorous cities to technologize the most trivial aspects of existence, such as keeping one’s pearlies clean or the early morning transacting of nature’s business, that modern society had packaged and barcoded seemingly for consumer convenience, never mind that humankind had been performing them with perfect adequacy and blissful contentment for centuries. Shivajinagar’s tendency was not to over-invent the wheel, but rather to let sleeping dogs lie and not keep kicking the poor wretches every few months in accordance with the ebbs and flows of the economy and stock market. To solve real problems, not to invent solutions and then construct problems around them to prop up first quarter earnings. In short, Shivajinagar was never going to invent an iPhone, but it had an adequate system in place, and one that had been in place for centuries, to contact near and dear ones and remind them that they mattered, which consisted of the simple act of knocking on their doors, and sharing joys and sorrows along with a cup of tea. A tradition that its snazzier and larger counterparts were hellbent on relegating to the dustbin of history. First, through unfettered expansion until it was no longer possible to make the trip across town without sacrificing the better part of a pollution-filled and claustrophobically crowded day. Second, through proliferation of all the latest cool newfangled gadgets along with their sweet promises of infusing meaning into our humdrum lives, that we may surf, text and tweet ourselves into oblivion, whilst safely ensconced in our warm technological cocoons, having long since dispensed with the inconvenience of physical encounters.
It is against this humble backdrop that our enfant terribles, Ramu and Somu, contemplated their strategy for winning the prestigious Annual Chattrapati Shivaji Science Fair (Chattrapati Shivaji, the great 17th century Maratha warrior king after whom Shivajinagar was named, was held in the greatest esteem in the eponymous town, and there was not a street or a structure or an event of distinction that did not benefit through the association with this great and illustrious son of the soil).
Ramu’s deviously intelligent mind had conceived of an uncharacteristically lofty strategy to win first prize. Shivajinagar was an annual beneficiary and victim, like many other cities dotting the western Indian coast, of that great heavenly deluge, that downpour of life-giving and life-snatching waters, that confounding conundrum that was the Indian monsoon. Shivajinagar’s drainage systems, dating back to pre-historic times, were as ill-equipped to handle the rampaging rains as the Indian justice system was equipped to handle the avalanche of cases it found itself perenially buried under. Flooded streets, school and business closures, swimming dogs and cats, and wading instead of walking, were such fixtures of the wet season that the beleaguered town residents had long since given up hope for a solution. However, that did not prevent them from venting their frustrations about the state of affairs at every sodden street corner.
Ramu, chancing to overhear one such particularly vituperative outburst, had ingeniously, even if opportunistically, realized that any solution to this vexing problem, even if only in theory, would grab so much limelight as to virtually assure them of top honors in the Science Fair. Somu had acquiesced without a murmur, as was his wont, eager as he was to share in the victory spoils that such a grandiose scheme would doubtless bring. It must here be said that Somu not possessing of a confrontational nature, and being more a pragmatic than theoretical type, would anyway, have never dreamt of challenging or finding fault with Ramu’s master plan.
This then being their central motivation, and their thought waves vibrating on the same wavelength with regards to the end, the duo set about racking their brains and the dilapidated school library for the means. They spent more time in the library in a week than they had spent in their entire collective lifespans, reading about drainage systems, flood channels, elevated streets, and other ornate solutions requiring more civil engineering expertise than all the Public Works department engineers in Shivajinagar possessed in total, shiny laminated engineering degree certificates notwithstanding. Not to mention Ramu Somu’s scientific skill set, which was as modest as the box office returns of the latest action-packed Salman-Sohail starrer.
As they were poring over engineering treatises with commendable dedication and due diligence, curious onlookers could not but help remark, rather unkindly one must say, that they stood as much chance of making sense of these tomes as toddlers stood of learning trigonometry. After a week of mind numbing, soul crushing, intellectual labour, as foreign to them as a cheeseburger to a South Indian vegetarian Brahmin, Ramu Somu were about as dazed as a broken-nosed Englishman at the receiving end of a West Indian fast bowler. To put it more bluntly, they were clueless.
In this demoralized state, the desperate duo loafed around town, stopping at the neighborhood Haldiram’s to partake of that simple yet profoundly satisfying western Indian delicacy, the venerable vada pav. The plump bald sweaty fellow frying the potato dumplings gave them furtive glances when they placed their order, but was placated when he saw the 10 rupee note in Ramu’s hand. With the delicacies wrapped neatly in yesterday’s Shivajinagar Times, they walked to the nearby maidan, settling down in a shady spot beneath their favorite banyan tree. Just as they were about to savor the mouthwatering snacks, a flash shower chanced to come down with the suddenness and unbridled ferocity of a batsman hitting six consecutive sixes after hours of Dravidesque defiance.
Ramu Somu, since they happened to be sitting away from the banyan’s trunk, were as soaked as fishes in the local pond that had escaped the culinary fate that had befallen their lesser fortunate brethren. Adding insult to injury, their snacks met with the same watery fate, rendering them soggily inedible. Rage mingled with dejection and rose to the top of the mixture. Expletives flowed with Gangetic vigor. The showers subsided as suddenly as they had started, and with them so did the emotions.
Outraged epithets were replaced with vacuous stares at nothing in particular. A few minutes thus elapsed in golden silence. At the end of which a great realization dawned on Ramu, just as a lowly apple’s descent from a tree had sparked Newton towards discovery of the law of gravitation. The tree, in this particular instance, was itself the idea, much sought after. In a serendipitous moment of tranquil serenity, Ramu realized that open areas of the field had logged a lot more water than areas under the protection of sylvan umbrellas, and therefore a possible solution to flooded streets was to plant more trees that they may scatter and absorb moisture.
Somu was given the honor, or so he was given to believe, of performing the experiment with live trees, transported with the help of rusty municipal staff, after their palms were suitably greased for the operation. The next great downpour came. Significantly lesser water logging and faster drainage were observed, and dutifully jotted down in neatly drawn tables by the diligent Somu. Badri, the science whizkid, teacher’s pet, whose experiments had won first prize in the last three science fairs, was enlisted with the help of a savory bribe, for the onerous task of describing the scientific basis of the experiment and analyzing the results. Conveniently, Somu forgot to inform Badri that the writeup was for the science fair, and Badri, poor unsuspecting soul that he was, scarcely suspected that he was scoring a self-goal.
Given the immediate and highly visible municipal benefit of their idea combined with the theoretical foundation provided by Badri’s meticulous analysis and white paper, it was but a formality that Ramu Somu won first prize in the Fair. Lifelong ambitions were fulfilled. Frenzied celebrations ensued. Everybody was generally happy that a solution had been found for the flooding problem (except for a sulking Badri who won second prize for his important but less glamorous idea for a low cost generator powered by torrential drains in the monsoon season). Ramu Somu were kings for a day, the toast of all Shivajinagar.
The following day, there was almighty thunder and blinding lightning, and the rain fell in sheets for much of the night. In the morning, M.G. Road, which should have been submerged in normal circumstances, barely had a foot of water, which too was receding fast, in the aftermath of the tree planting drive.
Ramu Somu, waking up entertaining fond hopes of school closure, were in for a rude shock.