Dr Fixit (041 - 050)

 041

'when after his bath, he saw in the mirror 

his beard was spotted with white hairs - what a horror!

Did age creep on him by dusk? He stood and stared

at his transformed image, all aghast and afraid.

He vowed by the next day he would quadruple

the speed of his wagon - indeed he would hurtle

the vehicle along the boulevard to halt Mr Time

and do all he wanted to do before his spine

the weight of aging would bend and force him

to borrow a third leg, the staff, and going dim

042

'might be his sight which would prompt him

to wear glasses - a frail stature with loss of vim

that he once had in excess scared the dude

so much that sleeplessness all night did intrude

his rest and he got up in the morning

with anxiety and his robust frame was aching

in strange points like he had boils deep in

his muscles, they scared him so much he checked in

to a health centre where a nurse examined him

and eventually told him it was rheumatism.

043

'The dude flopped down on a bench and buried his face

in his palms. Having such in his tissue wasn't a phase

he thought he'd confront in half a century

from then - the diagnosis left him in misery.

He returned with his medicine to the wagon;

his thoughts now were really wanton.

What troubled him most was not knowing

the exact spot he should ride to and start coaxing

the vagrant Mr Time to step into his wagon 

where he'd ride him home and prove he was a baron

044

'as he'd cage him in his vast estate

and go about rearranging his life and fate.

Then he'd go gloating at his uncle

whose thinking was still way back in the angle

of the primitives. Anyhow, the fellow

pressed on, horses' hooves and wagon's wheels bellowed

along the boulevard which seemed to elongate

it's length. The food for man and animals ate

into the chequebook after the gold coin 

had long been exhausted: deflated was the baron.

045

'It's laudable to be consistent but waste not

that quality on a foolish project. And let not

foolish pride egg you on the path of disaster

when you could just make a U-turn and muster 

enough courage and for your mistakes apologize

and move in the right direction to realize

your every sensible goal. But I also agree,

you must forge on, even when broke, as we're all free

to hang to our dreams if we're convinced about them

as only the dreamer their dream alone would redeem.

046

'Food for animals and man exhausted the balance 

in the bank. He sold them and grabbed with both hands

a large chunk of cash. He forged on on foot

his trek to accost Mr Time till his skin turned soot.

Gradually, peeling off were the soles of his boots.

His hair became more whitish and the endless toots

along the boulevard hardened his hearing.

His pairs of trousers frayed to boxers.

He gestured and uttered things like one going bonkers.

047

'Mr Time was adamant on eluding him.

The two army ants returned a united team

to Antburg but wearied was the elder

carried gallantly on the shoulder

of the younger ant to spread this timely tale

which now can be heard in every dale and vale,'

my grandma ended her folktale and I wrung

my hands pleasingly and clicked my tongue

like one who had savoured a good meal.

'What lessons in the tale was veiled?

048

'What have you learned?' my grandma asked.

I replied: 'I should be mindful in every task

to use time prudently as any portion

of it I waste can be an impossible mission

to regain.' My grandma was pleased with my answer

and asked me to clap for myself. The things that bothered

my mind for long I quickly put across to her.

'These humans. Have you seen them before, Big Mama?'

'I'd come close but not really. I saw a footprint

of what I was told was human's which did sink

049

'in the sand of a bank of a brook

during the famine and we'd gone to garner food 

far deep into a human enclave, I was told.

From the print, a picture of them would unfold

when their stories someone would narrate.

Things done here or over there, one another we imitate.'

'Things done in human enclave imitate ours?'

I sincerely asked. My grandma laughed. 'Nothing bars

anyone from imitating interesting things -

food, transport or even architecture - from other beings.

050

'Who built the high-rise first, humans or termites?

Every act is copied - from drumming to riding bikes.

Humans don't call us army ants for nothing.

Their military from bravery to drills and something

like paratrooping copied us and as a mark

of great honour is the "army ants" tag.

And that reminds me. Do you know why

the termites had a house that scraped the sky

and the army ants didn't?' My reply

came with a drawl. 'No!' My grandma did ply