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Sunday, 11 April 2004 |
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A new Dr. Hector Wackyll story Short story by Upatissa Attygalle
The Director General was better known as 'Pandu' both in Sri Lanka and abroad. He was just as popular as any of the sports starts whose games came within his purview. It must be emphasized that Pandu was not in the habit of climbing on to his window sill. In fact he had not made this ascent ever before. Since he was rather short and corpulent tipping his bathroom scales at a 176 pounds while being only 4ftn 8" tall in his elevator shoes, this task was no mean feat for the likes of Pandu. Panting Today however Pandu of his own volition, subjecting a great strain both on his body and on the cane seat of the chair he had used to assist him in his climb, stood on his wide window sill panting. He then began to wrestle with the latches of the two glass windows which had never been opened since his office was air-conditioned. He finally managed to unlatch them and push the windows wide open. Pandu then stretched out his arms, gripped the window frame on either side of him and began leaning forward dangerously. His centre of gravity was now well over the window sill. He was only held back from hurling outwards by his ten clutching fingers. Pandu was not Clark Kent the alter ego of Superman, so the possibility that he intended to fly out of the window had to be ruled out. Neither was Pandu trying to peer down necklines of the numerous office girls who were passing to and fro on the pavement beneath his window. Though it was no secret that Pandu had a predilection for the pectoral protuberances of the female anatomy, he now saw people moving about like Lilliputrians and the motor vehicles like Dinkie Toys. Pandu after all was perched nineteen storeys above ground level. Gymnastics Though now it taxed one's imagination to visualize Pandu with a trim figure, he did possess one in his college days and had excelled in gymnastics. Over the years he had lost all his prowess in the sport other than his grip developed on the pommel horse, horizontal bars, parallel bars and rings. Pandu was just about to release his grip on the window frame when his peon Simon walked in with a pile of files. On seeing his boss standing on the window sill, Simon dropped the files and cried out, "Buddhu Amme ! 'What are you trying to do Sir ?" Pandu retorted loudly, "Don't try to stop me Simon, I can't take it any more." Simon was a lad who was quick on the uptake, so the next instance he leapt across the room with remarkable agility and hung on to his boss's belt from behind. Unfortunately Simon though wiry was a featherweight compared to his boss who belonged to the heavyweight class. He realized he wasn't strong enough to pull his boss back into the office. He also realized that if he hung on to the belt he too would be pulled over with his boss on a free fall ride till they kissed the pavement nineteen storeys below. From the corner of his eye Simon saw a blue porcelain vase with a Sudu Nelum in it, on the desk. He let go one of his hands from the belt and grasped the flower vase by its neck. Then with a wide swing he brought it crashing down on the back of his boss's bald pate. The blow knocked his boss out for the count and his boss's knees buckled under him. Simon simultaneously let go of the belt, grabbed hold of the back of his boss's shirt collar with both his hands and pulled backwards. The next moment Pandu fell back on to his office floor with Simon under him. Simon was winded like a batsman who had received one of Harold Larwood's bodyline deliveries on his stomach. After he regained his breath, Simon crept out form under his boss's inert body and thought, "Well the movement of this Sudu Nelum really saved a life." When Pandu regained consciousness he saw hazily through his blinking eyes a beautiful young thing in white with a bountiful bosom bending over him, and thought, "I must be in heaven and this must be one of God's ministering angels. How thoughtful of St. Peter to assign me one with such a formidable forefront." Pandu clossed his eyes blissfully and was thinking with a smirk on his face how heavenly heaven was going to be, when he heard different voices asking, "Has he regained consciousness ?", "Can we interview him now?", "Can we get this in our evening issue ?" Pandu opened his eyes and saw clearly now. He was in bed in a hospital with a room full of newspaper and T.V. reporters with their camera crew. Instantly several cameras clicked and their flashbulbs blinded him totally for a moment. When his vision cleared once more, he saw that his ministering angel was a nurse and she was saying, "Sir you're quite all right now except for the bump on the back of your head. That will recede in a couple of days. I shall now leave you with these media personnel." Pandu stretched out his hand towards her and implored, "Nurse don't leave me now, I need you", but she had already stepped out of the room and was closing the door behind her. Pandu sighed and resigned himself to making a statement to the news hounds that surrounded his bed like hungry vultures. Bachelor "Well ladies and gentlemen" began Pandu, "you are aware that I carried out my duties well and was very happy at my job, especially because I love sports. I am a bachelor so I had no occasion ever to contemplate suicide. Then one day Dr. Hector Wackyll entered my life and turned it into purgatory. I presume you all have heard of Dr. Wackyll." "Oh Yes ! said the reporters in unison. "He is always writing the most absurd letters on the most outlandish subjects to my paper. However my editor finds them hilarious. "That's the man !" said Pandu, "He is known as the scientist for all purposes and seasons. He considers himself to be an environmental authority and a one man institution against all types of environmental pollution. He is really nothing but an environmental exasperation. Do you know what he did to my colleague and good friend Mr. Godwin Botalagedera Piyasena the former Director-General of the Department of Environmental and Scientific Studies?" "No" answered a chorus of voices. "Well Mr. Piyasena too was very good and happy at his job. He was also a bachelor like me. Then into his life came Dr. Wackyll. Today Mr. Piyasena is confined to a padded cell in Angoda. Getting back to my own tragedy, one morning Dr. Wackyll walked into my office. You know through Dr. Wackyll is considered a crackpot by one and all, he has the patronage of the government. If the government doesn't indulge him, he writes letters to all those crazy nitwit 'Save the Environment' organisations in the Western countries accusing the government of committing the most heinous environmental pollution, which could result in cut backs on the quantum of aid received from those countries. I therefore had no choice but to receive him with great respect and listen to him patiently. Shudder Pandu involuntarily gave a little shudder at the recollection of his encounter with Dr. Wackyll. He stopped his narration and reached out for the glass of water by his bedside. After he had drunk a few sips, he continued, "You all won't believe what Dr. Wackyll told me. He actually wanted me to advise my Minister to stop the playing of Cricket both by adults and children forthwith in Sri Lanka !" "Why in heaven did he want a stupid thing like that done?" asked the reporters. "Dr. Wackyll said that scientists abroad were discovering holes in the Ozone layer and recently a hole of enormous proportion had been discovered over the Antarctic. "Does Dr. Wackyll think that by hitting a high ball or sixes, cricketers would make holes in our Ozone layer?" questioned a reporter amidst loud laughter. "No No" said Pandu smiling at the joke, "Apparently due to these holes an increased amount of radiation reaches the earth. This radiation could cause skin cancer, cataract formation and other adverse reactions in man when exposed to the sun for long periods. Dr. Wackyll said that he won't be surprised to find holes in the Ozone layer over Sri Lanka too." "And for sure in his head too" interrupted a reporter angrily. "So Dr. Wackyll advocated that the playing of Cricket be stopped until investigations were made," added Pandu. Lunatic "The man is an absolutely lunatic !" said the same reporter heatedly. "Well I explained to Dr. Wackyll, "continued Pandu, "that today the life of every man, woman and child in Sri Lanka could be snuffed out quite unexpectedly at any moment, on any highway or public place by LTTE terrorists' bombs. So a remote possibility of developing cancer by playing Cricket is not going to cause the slightest apprehension in anyone. Further the Cricket World Cup series is in progress at the moment and cricket has caught the imagination of practically everyone in Sri Lanka, from the remotest little villages to the major cities. It affords citizens precious moments of relief and pleasure in the existing atmosphere of uncertainty and sudden death." "Sir you are quite correct said the reporters, "surely Dr. Wackyll would have then realised that his request was not feasible to implement." Disorder "No he did not. He insisted that I should request my Minister to do so. Dr. Wackyll kept telephoning me twice or thrice a day and also turning up at my office unexpectedly like a bad coin. The usually methodical and smooth running of the affairs connected with my office were now in a state of dire disorder. My health which I always took pride in, was now steadily deteriorating like that of a HIV positive patient. I knew that unless I took Dr. Wackyll's proposal to my Minister, the doctor would start writing letters abroad. I also knew that if I took the proposal to my Minister that he would personally hurl me out of his window. Since my Minister's window is only three storeys high, the chances of my worries coming to an abrupt end were remote. But then the Cricket loving public would have reduced me to a pulp with bats, wickets, bails and balls. So I decided the wisest thing to do was to take a high dive off my window which is nineteen storeys high." Bane Meanwhile down Flora Lane, Dr. Wackyll's nextdoor neighbour and the bane of his life, the buxomy teenager Rohana was gloomily cogitating over her perennial problem. The problem of getting her crotchety nextdoor neighbour Dr. Wackyll out of the vicinity of Flora Lane to enable her to have her birthday dance party next week. Dr. Wackyll had threatened as he did every year that if she played any music louder than the decibels specified by him, he would get her arrested for noise pollution. The trouble was that today what passed for teenage music cannot be played other than at the highest decibels of sound that could be produced by the artistes with the help of electronic equipment. Year before last Rohana had managed to send the Doctor to Vienna with a fossilised bone of an elephant which Dr. Wackyll fondly believed to be that of a Dinosaur (refer short story 'The Old Fossil' in the evening Observer of 14.9.94). Last year Dr. Wackyll had actually wanted Rohana to have loud music to activate a rare Orchid he had discovered which responded to noise (refer short story 'Dr. Wackyll's New Year Resolutions' in the evening Observer of 18.10.95). Rohana's school chum Lotasha, suddenly came bounding in as usual, waving the evening's Observer over her head like a victory flag."Glee up you gloomy gal, your troubles are over. The paper reports that when the big companies which sponsor the cricket matches for advertising their products heard that Dr. Wackyll was trying to get the playing of Cricket banned due to some silly holes in the Ozone layer, they promptly offered to fund him on an expedition to the Antarctic. There, the scientists have discovered the largest hole so far found, and Dr. Wackyll is going to join them to conduct experiments and do research on the subject. He leaves tonight and will be abroad for at least a year. Next year the companies are going to fund Dr. Wackyll on an expedition to outer space. They say the odds that Dr. Wackyll would get swallowed up in one of the many Black Holes of outer space are very high indeed." |
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