As told by - The Mattress
“It can be stated categorically that a young mind with a scientific inclination, can’t be kept away from a BMS, a ‘bomb making scheme’ for the uninitiated. The young mind and the scheme are soul mate. And if the, above mentioned mind, is that of a seven year old, then the flirtation with the scheme progresses very rapidly. Procuring the raw material for the bomb’s development, though, is a problem. More so for a young boy, repeatedly warned off for interacting with BMS. Possibility of buying from the market is remote due to physical and financial un-viability, and acquiring it from any other source, a fantasy. So, one has to compromise and make do with ready made but inferior stuff available inside the fire- crackers procured by dubious methods from unlisted sources. It cannot be helped. The actual method of bomb making is an example in simplicity, really. Let me explain this. Once you have substantial number of fire- crackers, you rip them and then collect the precious chemical inside as the base raw material for the bomb.”
“I have a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is leading to a disaster”, spluttered the air conditioner, shaking its head. Now a bomb, these were deep waters indeed.
“Touche! All, you new members, should be thankful for your late appearance in his life. He was all grown up by then. Yes! To continue, our Romeo, totally besotted by BMS, collected the chemical inside into a square piece of news- paper cut carefully according to his calculations. Don’t even ask what these calculations were. I have no clue. Well! Then he wrapped it tightly in multiple layers of more news- paper, securing it each time with generous layers of thread, finishing his mother’s new red pool in the process. Finally he packed the whole bundle, in a card- board box, sprinkling a generous supply of his chemical treasure on all sides, then finished it by adding a fuse, a piece of red wool swiped from his mother’s knitting basket. He wanted his bomb to beat all bombs. To give it a more authentic appearance, he then painted the tightly taped card- board box, now a bomb, in bright red color. He thought it prudent to name it too. He thought big. One did not know, when one actually lands up with a path- breaking discovery, the name then, tends to become rather important. He named it the Fatom bomb. It sounded very impressive, ingenious and totally unique, he felt. F stood for fire- cracker, you tube-lights.” Explained the narrator for the benefit of all those with confused, knitted eyebrows. Then it continued, “Since there are no wildernesses or great deserts in the vicinity of most small boys to test the ‘Fatom’ bomb they have invented, under the bed is a best option. Or so Purja thought. Finally, one quite afternoon, our hero lit the fuse of the Fatom bomb on its maiden testing spree, under the bed.” The Mattress looked around. There was a drop- dead silence.
The VCD, always looking for free a footage and a great champion of paparazzi culture, blurted out suddenly, “Oh no! A missed opportunity! Under the bed! What genius for unusual locations and unique footage.” “Yes! And what an unholy mess it made. There was smoke everywhere, with burnt paper scattered all over the room. Sleep drugged household woke up to blatantly smoking surroundings amidst shouts for help. Our inventor was dragged out from under the bed coughing and blackened. The fire was put out, by drenching us in water. I was badly singed and the bed had nightmares for months after that.” This was the last straw. The mattress retired from active life as it developed an ulcer where it was singed. That evening, the cook could not find the match- box for cooking the evening meal and the sweeper cried openly, pulling his hair one by one. That very morning he had cleaned Purja’s ‘pig styish’ room putting in some really back breaking effort. Only Goltu was happy for being born in a family where extreme excitement was a routine. Round eyed, she watched normal Purja coloring that had miraculously turned jet black under the bed, turn variegated and finally red as his mother scrubbed him clean under the tap outside the kitchen where the cloths were washed manually everyday. Goltu loved magic.
“ I know what you mean, Mattress. It was a very difficult time for all of us. We all received a fresh coat of paint as a compensation but the floor, poor chap had to go through a vigorous scrub.” Sympathized the wall while the roof nodded, smiling gleefully. It was spared somewhat because the bed had taken the full impact. “Our friend sat in his usual place facing the usual corner, for once mulling over what went wrong. He was really disappointed with the Fatom bomb’s sonic capabilities. He had expected a loud bang but the stupid Fatom bomb had turned out to be a peeper with lot of smoke, coating his face with soot [pun intended]. And to rub salt into his wounds, his mother took him to task for plugging his ears as she washed him like a rag doll in a public place in his birthday suit. His only consolation was that she had tough time extracting the cotton he had stuffed deep into his ears.”
The washing machine, a great friend of the old bed muttered,” I would have given him a washing of life- time if I had been there. You guys sure were too patient.”
“Yes it was taxing. But do not under estimate him. You see, he was always minding his own business, its just that, the by product of that minding was always a calamity. None of us could thwart the consequences. The Sulfur story proves my point,” the kitchen shelf said, looking at the younger members of H.G.& Co PVT Ltd. They needed to understand the unique Purja phenomenon.
“It can be stated categorically that a young mind with a scientific inclination, can’t be kept away from a BMS, a ‘bomb making scheme’ for the uninitiated. The young mind and the scheme are soul mate. And if the, above mentioned mind, is that of a seven year old, then the flirtation with the scheme progresses very rapidly. Procuring the raw material for the bomb’s development, though, is a problem. More so for a young boy, repeatedly warned off for interacting with BMS. Possibility of buying from the market is remote due to physical and financial un-viability, and acquiring it from any other source, a fantasy. So, one has to compromise and make do with ready made but inferior stuff available inside the fire- crackers procured by dubious methods from unlisted sources. It cannot be helped. The actual method of bomb making is an example in simplicity, really. Let me explain this. Once you have substantial number of fire- crackers, you rip them and then collect the precious chemical inside as the base raw material for the bomb.”
“I have a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is leading to a disaster”, spluttered the air conditioner, shaking its head. Now a bomb, these were deep waters indeed.
“Touche! All, you new members, should be thankful for your late appearance in his life. He was all grown up by then. Yes! To continue, our Romeo, totally besotted by BMS, collected the chemical inside into a square piece of news- paper cut carefully according to his calculations. Don’t even ask what these calculations were. I have no clue. Well! Then he wrapped it tightly in multiple layers of more news- paper, securing it each time with generous layers of thread, finishing his mother’s new red pool in the process. Finally he packed the whole bundle, in a card- board box, sprinkling a generous supply of his chemical treasure on all sides, then finished it by adding a fuse, a piece of red wool swiped from his mother’s knitting basket. He wanted his bomb to beat all bombs. To give it a more authentic appearance, he then painted the tightly taped card- board box, now a bomb, in bright red color. He thought it prudent to name it too. He thought big. One did not know, when one actually lands up with a path- breaking discovery, the name then, tends to become rather important. He named it the Fatom bomb. It sounded very impressive, ingenious and totally unique, he felt. F stood for fire- cracker, you tube-lights.” Explained the narrator for the benefit of all those with confused, knitted eyebrows. Then it continued, “Since there are no wildernesses or great deserts in the vicinity of most small boys to test the ‘Fatom’ bomb they have invented, under the bed is a best option. Or so Purja thought. Finally, one quite afternoon, our hero lit the fuse of the Fatom bomb on its maiden testing spree, under the bed.” The Mattress looked around. There was a drop- dead silence.
The VCD, always looking for free a footage and a great champion of paparazzi culture, blurted out suddenly, “Oh no! A missed opportunity! Under the bed! What genius for unusual locations and unique footage.” “Yes! And what an unholy mess it made. There was smoke everywhere, with burnt paper scattered all over the room. Sleep drugged household woke up to blatantly smoking surroundings amidst shouts for help. Our inventor was dragged out from under the bed coughing and blackened. The fire was put out, by drenching us in water. I was badly singed and the bed had nightmares for months after that.” This was the last straw. The mattress retired from active life as it developed an ulcer where it was singed. That evening, the cook could not find the match- box for cooking the evening meal and the sweeper cried openly, pulling his hair one by one. That very morning he had cleaned Purja’s ‘pig styish’ room putting in some really back breaking effort. Only Goltu was happy for being born in a family where extreme excitement was a routine. Round eyed, she watched normal Purja coloring that had miraculously turned jet black under the bed, turn variegated and finally red as his mother scrubbed him clean under the tap outside the kitchen where the cloths were washed manually everyday. Goltu loved magic.
“ I know what you mean, Mattress. It was a very difficult time for all of us. We all received a fresh coat of paint as a compensation but the floor, poor chap had to go through a vigorous scrub.” Sympathized the wall while the roof nodded, smiling gleefully. It was spared somewhat because the bed had taken the full impact. “Our friend sat in his usual place facing the usual corner, for once mulling over what went wrong. He was really disappointed with the Fatom bomb’s sonic capabilities. He had expected a loud bang but the stupid Fatom bomb had turned out to be a peeper with lot of smoke, coating his face with soot [pun intended]. And to rub salt into his wounds, his mother took him to task for plugging his ears as she washed him like a rag doll in a public place in his birthday suit. His only consolation was that she had tough time extracting the cotton he had stuffed deep into his ears.”
The washing machine, a great friend of the old bed muttered,” I would have given him a washing of life- time if I had been there. You guys sure were too patient.”
“Yes it was taxing. But do not under estimate him. You see, he was always minding his own business, its just that, the by product of that minding was always a calamity. None of us could thwart the consequences. The Sulfur story proves my point,” the kitchen shelf said, looking at the younger members of H.G.& Co PVT Ltd. They needed to understand the unique Purja phenomenon.
This is amazing. BMS - I was wondering at first ifthis was another degree like MBBS or similar. BUT this thing "blew" up in my face!
ReplyDeleteWhat a character this Purja.
Yes Diwali festival always has a strange effect on otherwise normally behaving kids… Most of them suddenly develop an insatiable urge to discover the new-fire power of the season which may have hit the shelves of the shop off-late.. They try to invent or fascinate new methods of blowing fire-crackers. The remotest or the busiest place, under the stairs or even under the chair of a napping guard.. Corners or cemented letter boxes, where it would make weird blasting noise. Unthinkable timings when everyone is busy or trying to retire for a while, on an otherwise knocking day.... With an uncanny spirits to brandish the just bought fire power.. lethal by all standards, they make the empty tins go higher & feel enthused at the BANGING noises it make as it lands back on the floor. After 3-4 such attempts, even the noblest of the flock could only guess about the original face that poor thing carried. Imagine the prey of the events, enchanting strange murmurs seeing you around. Now you know!!
ReplyDeleteBMS episode is a perfect depiction, a well researched write-up on the sequel of activities, as Purja prepared & tested the FATOM bomb.. Saras Posts are very engrossing…. keenly looking forward to the Next one… Warm Wishes !!