Optical illusions

Optical illusions
Teja Shrikant Lele

Look at this, the five-year-old urges me. This being a twisted-looking cube, which looks like it could keel over any moment. Good going, I mumble, as the child so obviously seeks appreciation. What exactly is it supposed to be,the question pops out, unbidden. ``An airplane,'' he mutters.

Of all the answers that I could have expected, this was definitely not one.A house, fine. A toy box, finer. Rubik's cube, best. Now that I looked atthe drawing critically, it seemed more and more like some kind of a house. But I failed to see what the child saw. The airplane. Doesn't look like any plane I ever saw, I tell him. He looks up at me and his eyebrows begin their steep climb over his forehead. Interpreting my continuing questioning look, he says, ``It's parked in the garage. That's why you can't see it.''

Needless to say, words failed me at that. Conversation came to an end and mydisappointed nephew went off to sketch some more. Outlines that might meanthe world to him, but were simply lines criss-crossed to me. A ``flying''plane that could be on the ground because ``petrol had finished.''

For a while all I could think of was the òf40óLittle Prince, that wonderful parable of the prince who came down to earth from planet B612. The planet which has three volcanoes. Where a naughty rose has made its home. And -- best of all -- where the sun sets 43 times a day, so watching a sunset is something that you can do several times a day. The ``parked airplane'' is so reminiscent of the ``protected sheep'' the Prince demands. Be it an airplane or be it sheep, they all need to be ``protected.''

Perhaps it is this ability to think differently that lets this kid be sohappy with what is apparently not an airplane. To me (and other``grown-up'' types), that is. To him it is the ``bestest'' plane. All kids are in some way the Little Prince. That is why the rose -- the one that he waters and which sneezes when it is cold -- is most beautiful to him. Forget about when reality hits -- and he realises there are many such roses on B612. His rose, however, stays the most beautiful of them all.

All because he sees differently. That is why when a huge, black dot on apristine sheet looks just that -- a dot -- to me; to this guy, it could beanything: from a squashed bug to his mother's bindi. From his point, I must seem a poor creature, what with my limited vision and all. After all, even Exupery elaborated on how odd grown-ups were. Unable to see the unseen at all times, they created a fuss about things that hardly mattered. The king who thought he was all powerful and yet could not command the sun to set. The conceited man who could only think that everyone admired him. Thedrunkard who turned to the bottle for solace -- to forget that he is ashamedof drinking. Truly, from a child's angle, grown-ups are very, very odd.

Wouldn't it be nice to be able to think that way, I sometimes wonder. Whatyou make of things is how you see them. Only that matters. The rest isunimportant. Getting wet in the rain spontaneously matters. The battle between the sheep and the rose, and wondering why flowers have thorns. Wishing upon a star matters, as does waiting for the wish to come true.

The next time I took my nephew for a walk I observed his reaction -- toeverything. Not only did he pluck a flower, he took time to smell it. It wastime to stop thinking about everything so logically, I thought. ``Isn't therose beautiful?'' he asked, pushing a red-coloured flower into my hand.Clamping down on the ``that's not a rose'' rebuttal that came to my lips, I nodded. Smiling, he clasped my hand and we continued walking. Happiness does not always depend on the hows and whys, after all.