15thDecember (Saturday) : Jonathan Breedingstone called this morning and bored me for a good 10 minutes 38 seconds talking about his research on the digestive properties of buffalo grass. Now I need to clear my head and get things back into perspective. Sometimes I feel writing the diary is like therapy, giving the world a glimpse into the intricate maze that is my brain.
Ever since I discovered the ogling eyes that went ‘Ooooo’ my constant effort was to stabilize the critters to see whether they would be anything more than just eyes. But after two days of unrelenting creation and destruction, there were eyes all around me, even in a state of somnolence, they’d gleam and stare at me, their mournful stare tugging at my arteries. And this got me thinking. As the little grey cells pondered about the problem, it struck me that there is only one thing that has been constant with life since eternity (as we know it), Aqua or Water, poetically described as ‘the essence of life’.
Never one to wait on an idea I added a drop of water to the eyes of Project Exoskelebellyoculus, and waited. It felt like time had stopped and for once the eyes did not go away. It kept staring back. Trembling with anticipation, I added another drop. This time the eyes started to suck in the water very fast, almost with a sense of purpose and the creature started to inflate in front of my eyes. It lost its greenish tinge to turn blue and four small tentacles popped out from its round body. And there it lay, with a happy contented look in its sparkling eyes, its tentacles blushing a deep purple, yellow and green. It was beautiful. I had done it! After all my years of hard work and countless hurdles, I had found a new life form, a new species. But what can I call it? Staring at those ogling eyes listening to its magical hum, like an a capella singer giving constant harmonies I could think of no other name to call it- The name by which the entire world would know it forever- Oogle.
Within the next day Project X gunned ahead as more and more Oogles were born. One thing I noticed was that though the colors of the tentacles varied between red, yellow, purple and green, the combination of the colors was different for every Oogle. And this was when the problem started. With every addition the Oogles started to get agitated and move around zipping in their container crashing and bumping into each other. Some of them stuck together while others just bounced off each other. I could not figure out what was happening as the Oogles seemed hell bent on moving and crashing. Were they trying to stick together? Were they trying to grow? Or did they just want to destroy each other? I was driven to the edge trying to figure out what to do with these Crazy Oogles. And that was when the telephone rang.
Transcript of Oogle talk from the classified files of Prof. Forrest Greene(Sl. No.PFG/OOg/aud/1572). [Cautionary note: Though they are round in shape Oogles have been known to cut grammatical corners. We however are thankful that they at least try to communicate. All communications have been transcribed phonetically.]
Just Because We’re Crazy Doesn’t Mean We Don’t Have a VOICE:
Mr. Scientist Man don’t know it yet, but we are not the Dumb balls of bloooo. He think we are the crazies but then aren’t we all the little crazy in the headspacessss? Me remember staring at that headshape wondering what to doooooooo. Me the lone little Oogle looking at heap big nose and great white teeth that smile and call my name. Me wiggle my handthings and try to move and he keep on smiling and look at me with puppy dog eyes filling up with the watery, liquidy thingy. Suddenly sound like ‘Pop! Pop! Pop!’ happen everywhere and me not alone no more. Everywhere the Oogles pop up, and we stare at each other with heap big eyes. And this is when I sees her. The big eyes and the long lashes, green and yellow handthingss that draws me to go closer to her. Sound fill my headspace and every other Oogle they freeze. Love me yellow, Love me green, Love me I’m The blue- The Oolvis singing in my head, I blush as purple as my handthing, and she the blush back! I rush to her and she rush to me we hit hit bang bang and fall. How is the we stay closer and not away?? We think and we theenk and we go round and round in the circular fashion and we wonder whether we will ever be together. And like us all other Oogle fly and bump and crash and fall. Everybody want to be together but we don’t know how. Wonderment fills our headspaces and we keep going round the rounds but answer it is elooosive. I try to hold out my yellow handthing to her to tell her everything gonna be the fine and she reaches out her yellow handthing too. And we get closer and closer till suddenly our handthings they stick together!!! We as happy as can be keeping together watching the other stooopids still flying and going round not making contacts and heap big teeth Scientist Man staring at us with puzzlement in the face. We like big happy family, always staying together, but can Mr. Scientist Man make that happen? Can Oogle stick and grow big? Can Oogle get out of Mr. Scientist Man’s room and see other Scientist Mans? Or are Oogles going to be of the past tense soon? Me going crazy thinking this thought, but then…….. aren’t we all the little crazy in the headspacesssss?
28th December (Friday) It’s midnight and I’m sitting in the middle of what used to be my living room. The last 24 hours have been eventful to say the least and I am still running high on adrenaline. Interesting effect it has on the nerves but can’t say I like it much as it blurs objectivity and clarity. Two servings of chlorophyll have not been able to subside it and I fear I might have the beginnings of herbicidal diarrhea if I consumed a third. But my unnatural physiological state should not be the reason to digress from the events of this unexpected albeit momentous day.
After hitting the roadblock in Project Exoskelebellyoculus (X, if the former’s too hard on your tongue) I spent a better part of Saturday poring over the countless figures and equations trying to find out the error in my ways. After a while an African war drum started playing on my medulla oblongata slowly inching towards an unacceptable decibel level (of all the unnecessary bother!). That was when I found it; the tiny error in quantity of nitro-ptychotis that has been sending all my results up in smoke (or down the drain or both). I rushed to the cold storage, a dropper in hand searching frantically for the vial of nitro-ptychotis which I always kept next to the bottle of aqua-glycerin. What I found gave me a kind of convulsion I had not felt since I read ‘The Origin of Species’ in the first grade. Next to the glycerin was a tub of gooey berry sundae treated with hibiscus and cactus juice, my tonic for mental overheating. I must have left the vial in my refrigerator when I allowed myself a spoonful of tonic last week and brought back the tub in a moment of absence of the mind. No wonder my last sample did nothing much but look creamy. In my excitement I took my test sample of Exoskelebellyoculus and went up to my kitchen and instead of 2 drops of nitro-ptychotis I quite generously ensured that a third drop found its way into the sample. All I saw was a flash of white and all I heard was a very loud ‘BOOM!!’ and everything went black.
Chaos, they say leads to creation. Sitting here on the floor of my living room and looking up to see the moon through the hole in my bedroom, I cannot agree more.
Waking up to the smell of burning wood and plastic, my first reaction was to search for my sample and I found it intact in the petridish. But there was something different. Something that made small bubbles, something that seemed to stare back, something…… green. And then it disappeared, and reappeared and disappeared and reappeared again. Two eyes staring back at me only to be replaced by two different eyes and then there were more eyes. All this while the room seemed to buzz with an unnatural sound, something if phonetically interpreted on paper would read like ‘Oooooooo’. The African war drum was back and so was the adrenaline and I felt like I was back in school, a young boy his stomach in knots as he peered into the microscope staring at his first glimpse of amoeba. And this was so much bigger! But they wouldn’t stay. It was as if they were born to perish the next second. What had I created, or had I created anything at all??? Questions flitted in and out and my mind went on overdrive thinking about the possibilities. But then, this is just the beginning. The creature or whatever it is has to exist, has to grow and evolve into the organism it is meant to be. And I shall be the guide it needs to survive and thrive on Earth and maybe it will call me, Pater. I guess it is okay to give in to emotional flights of fancy once in a while. My vision is slowly blurring, but there’s so much work to do, and those eyes, ah the eyes that ogle. I’ll make you stay my creation; you will stare and not disappear. I need to think. I think it’s time for that third glass of chlorophyll.
24th December (Monday): It’s been a while since I proved that human evolution is impossible if we allow ourselves to be held at ransom by the greatest villain ever- Time. We accept it quite willfully and have gone so far as to incorporate it in our regular vocabulary with phrases like- being bound by time. How proud we must feel to declare to one and all that we, the so called superior species of the planet bow to the ticking hands of a clock! The world tries to restrict me with these feeble excuses and wants to encroach upon my space. Maybe that’s way I gathered myself away from the prying senses of society and family and planted myself here, my very own utopia, where there’s me and my true family, the plants, trees, creepers and other herbaceous beings. They talk and chat and communicate with me in a manner that no human can, ever. But tonight I don’t have time for them.
I sit back in my lab and try to ponder over the loose ends which are restricting me to achieve the dream for which it is worth getting etiolated. A time in the night when sapiens would be trying hard to impress the genders of their interest, trying to achieve things which would only make them want more. The meaning of pleasure for people around me changed over the time from the joy of putting the ball in a basket to trying hard to charm others with their dresses and makeup.
This is like all those Saturdays when kids used to go out to play and I sat behind in the house with my dream, my books, my pets (yes, plants can be your pets!), an insane idea and a zeal which was above everything else. A dream to win that coveted prize for being the greatest researcher in the field of botany.
It’s amusing but when other kids were asking their parents for a baseball bat, I was dreaming of a saguaro in my room. Too bad that they didn’t understand what it represents because for them beauty lies in soft petals of a rose and not in a thorny Coryphantha vivipara. But it is good that I can wake up every day and look at this creation and admire the beauty of these spikes. I wonder when the world around me would become so wise and understand what all plants and my research can do for them. According to me, this world can only understand the meaning of research when you can either present them something unique or crazy! I wonder what I would give to this world.