The Angle of Incidence.

27/10/2004 28/10/2004
(Taken from my book No 111).
(Before presenting the following story, I am taking a bail in advance from my wife. Read the story and
you will realize the truth behind it. While going through my old volumes, I happened to discover this
story. I had totally forgotten the episode. My wife also doesnt remember about it. This is still a faint
recollection for me but a total oblivious factor for my wife. Much water has flown across the banks of
life since then).

My wife was working in the kitchen. She was busy with her morning chorus. It was the hour of
breakfast. Her husband would appear at any moment before the dining table. He was busy in the
upstairs room.
- May be reading, writing or whiling away on computer.
She thought. She reflected, and took a deep sigh. It conveyed volumes. It conveyed a clear meaning
to any onlooker who might have seen her at that moment. Her expression revealed it. She considered
me to be a profitless writer in the sense that I produced volumes and volumes without getting them
published. In her eyes, such writings were less profitable than growing a kitchen garden on the backyard! Even after nearly twenty one years of our wedded life, she was unable to read my surges as a
writer and the meaning of the junk of my writings, which were practically lying hidden from the eyes
of various publishers.
She continued her reflection. If I were not at my desk with my writings, then, I would be
meddling with the computer. Computer was a recent purchase and she knew that I loved exploring
the contents. Whether I was with my pen and paper or on the key-board, her firm view was that it
was a waste on my part to do so because she thought I paid less attention to the house-hold chorus or
the overall maintenance of the house. Her conclusions were that I was living in a utopian world,

among the books and manuscripts, with my pen and wandering thoughts, else, sunk in the world of
computer.
This is the preface. Now, follows the real story.
As she continued her work in the kitchen, she heard a distant lamentation. It was like a
rumbling sound, a kind of wail. At first, she did not pay much attention to it. There was no reason
why somebody should be lamenting at that pleasant hour. Nobody in the neighborhood was in death
bed. No family within my radial distance had no revealing problems as to lament in an audible way to
expose their life. The lady in the neighboring house was a terror with her terrible tongue, but, despite
her domestic problems, she never knew how to lament! She only knew the art of gnarling at others!
As my wife continued with her work, the pitch of lamentation grew in volume and reached a
stage as to catch her attention. She could not withdraw her ears. She soon understood that the origin
of source was the front yard of the house. The articulation seemed to suggest that it was my mother
who had landed in some trouble. For a moment, my wife became upset. She had got the idea that my
mother was sitting in the open sit out and lamenting for some reason. She could not reason out
otherwise.
My wife went in search of my mother. She was not in her bed room. The bathroom door was
ajar and she was not inside. She went to the front yard to fetch her but my mother could not be
traced there also. That was a shocking moment. Then, who was lamenting and where was my
mother gone?
By and by, she realized one thing. The lamentation was coming from the upstairs. It was
coming from my corner! It naturally boiled her blood and she ran the flight of steps two at a time and
soon landed before me to see what the matter was. She found me in good condition, rather in a
hilarious mood, listening to something on the computer.
I was experimenting with new software Talk it. It was software which converted any type
written document into voice. Different voices were available within the software. Now, I was
converting one of my poems Upon this grave in the voice of an old lady and this had actually
deceived the ears of my wife! Only the effect reached her ears and she missed the verses. She took it
to be somebodys lamentation! She reasoned out to be my mother.
Now that she was not within the danger zone, she could have laughed heartily at her
foolishness but she did not. She could have joined me. Her level of annoyance was too much. It stole
away the element of humor that was within the entire episode. She could have reconciled with the
situation after the radiator became cool but she did not. She missed the angle of incidence. She really
charged me for making things upset for her whereas I was not at all aware of these happenings!
She was rather tight but I was very light in my approach. After all, I was not playing a
practical joke on her. (The End).