Uncle Returns an Intellectual Giant

                                                 

 It had been close to a year since the shutdown of reportage around Uncle’s exploits. While he certainly had  no qualms about the discontinuation of the publication that featured him, the alarming decline of traction surrounding him in the months that followed concerned him. After multiple fits of rage and hysteria at the abrupt close of his blossoming ‘career’ and a meditative isolation that followed, Uncle was finally out and about. He was equipped with a meticulously curated design for his comeback; a template tried and tested worldwide. 

 

It was not merely an attempt at turning heads. He wanted to reclaim his tainted intellectual reputation. Uncle had always been a subject of jocular ridicule. But things took a turn for the worse when the infamous tale about his brief stint as Society English Tutor resurfaced. This was back in the 90s when the regular Mr. Swapnasundaran briefly went to the States to visit his grandchildren. 

Uncle was looking forward to imparting his grand tales of linguistic adventure; like how he formed full sentences at just nine months while fellow infants could barely let out babbles. Seldom did he know that  Mr. Swapnasundaran had docked the class at the pivotal point of Robinson Crusoe’s shipwreck. 

While Uncle did manage to distract the class with his inane asides, the lads would not let him off without revealing if their protagonist had survived the fatal wreck. Uncle could not risk revealing his absolute literary incompetence, for, it had taken himself years to establish himself a scholar without breaching his esteemed record of not having read past the dedication page of a single book. 

Therefore, he amassed courage, trusted his intuition as he proclaimed 

“Robinson Crusoe is dead. If it is any consolation, I must tell you that his death was no less than a hero's.” 

To keep the class from further questions, he had students observe silence for the remaining time, in honour of their dead hero. 

Mr. Swapnasundaran returned, enraged at the damage he had inflicted on his prodigal class. Since then, the tale has haunted him, making him ‘persona non grata’ in academic circles. 

But now, Uncle had it all figured out. Notions on his intellect would now take a quantum leap. 

“It seemed like all I needed was an understanding of the workings of the world” proclaimed Uncle as he hurried to the door to receive a courier. He clearly seemed like a man on a mission.

From the giant box emerged volumes of Plato, Aristotle, Marx, Chomsky and a few other names Uncle himself could hardly discern. Accompanied was a tan Khadi Kurta  double his size, a pair of stringed white trousers and a visibly worn out tote bag. A sly grin spread as he carefully examined these. 

He spent four rigorous weeks growing his beard and staying up late at night at hopes of a few more grey hairs. Finally, the neighbours started staring at him questionably. His senile mother came back to her senses for a good few minutes and asked him to stop looking like a vagabond if he was still serious about finding a suitable match. 

That was when he decided it was time to finally execute his grand plan. He boarded the train, clad in his tan kurta pyjama and the tote bag full of, as he put it “God knows what books; the thickest I could find in the market”. 

Uncle had made note of a few literature festivals happening around and was adamant at making his presence felt there. The sartorial preparations were an attempt to fit in. 

He was gone for a month. He arduously witnessed conversations of acclaimed figures, saw modern art installations and came back intellectually stimulated. 

He certainly does not remember who spoke what, for he could not recognize a single person by name. But that was not the point. What mattered is that he finally found his haven; a space he fit in effortlessly. 

Uncle met like-minded people, mostly college going youth who he guaranteed were just like him;  brilliant minds who had mastered what took him nearly half a century and innumerable embarrassing failings. 

At one point, a bunch of them even swarmed around him for selfies and even video taped his opinion on a few raging national issues. 

Uncle has certainly returned a content man. For those looking for a place to boost your sense of confidence, Uncle recommends a crowded lit fest or a sophisticated art exhibition. A word of advice though: an overwhelming presence of social media, its influencers, pretentious young adults and a panache for appearance is where the magic happens!

 

                                    -Syvian Bugles, better known as Uncle is an omnipresent being who shares much of his thoughts with me and gives opinions whether asked or not. But take it with a pinch of salt!