The Light Bulb

Life can be very irritating at times. Times such as when the stapler misfires while you hold a number of oversized documents in your right hand with no table and paperweight . Or, when your pen refuses to leave a mark over the cheque in spite of repeated sincere attempts from your end. Or, as you press the switch on, the bulb blows out.

All the three incidents keep happening to me, the one mentioned last being as fresh as a week old. It was a Sunday afternoon. As I switched the bathroom light on, I was greeted by a flash of bright light followed by absolute darkness. I mumbled a curse under my breath, but being well familiar with the contours of my body and those of the bathroom, did not abandon the project.

Sometimes seemingly inanimate objects develop superb patterns to harass you. The particular light point was one of such objects. At least four bulbs had blown, forcing Rani to get the fault rectified by an electrician. The electrician had termed it as an ‘earthing fault’; she had later informed me, also adding that she had to shell out Rs.200 towards the visit charges. To think of it, just forty years ago our family doctor used to charge only Rs.60 for home visits, and sometimes even that charge was waived off in consideration for a steaming cup of tea and snacks.

Well, I was in no mood to waste another Rs.200 without at least trying my hand at it. I removed the dead bulb, checking whether the broken filament had any chance of getting reset over the support wires. No chance, a portion of the filament had broken loose! I deposited the bulb in the kitchen trash can, informing Rani that I had taken matters in my hand, and needed her unstinted support to correct the fault.

We divided labour. I placed a stool under the light point; Rani fetched the screwdriver pack. I found my favourite screwdriver succumbing to old age. The handle, which under a sliding head concealed several attachments, lay broken with none of the attachments in sight.

“Will this help” - asked Rani, holding a rather simple and diminutive screwdriver. I accepted it grudgingly.

The bulb holder was mounted on the base through two screws. The screws were rather easy to remove, but as the holder and the wire behind it came loose in my hands, one of the screws flew directly to the comforts of the wash basin. It landed on the rim, slid down, and started descending towards the drain hole while orbiting the interiors at great speed. Some timely action by Rani saved the screw’s passage into the drain, and we were back on the project.

My next demand was for a testing light.

“The new one?” - enquired Rani.

“We have only one testing light” - I grumbled.

“No, we have two. There is the small one, and then we have the one we purchased last”.

Technically speaking, she was right. The “small one” ceased to function a decade ago, but was retained due to its capability to double up as a tiny screwdriver. The one termed as “new” was about ten years old, but then, since we did not procure any other testing light after it, qualified to be called as new. That way, thought I, I could be called Rani’s ‘new’ husband!

I touched the first wire with the contact. No light. Same with the other wire.

I got down from the stool. The testing light showed positive when connected to the bedroom socket point.

“Did the electrician open the entire switchboard for the bathroom?” – I asked.

“No”, Rani informed.

The bathroom switchboard also has a socket point. I used the testing light on it. Negative.

The entire switchboard requires to be removed and checked, I thought. The switch board has a 15 Amp connection and four 5 Amp connections. I played with the screwdriver, but then thought it wise to first check the MCB for the flat.

The MCBs were on, save one. I flicked the offending one to the ‘on’ position.

Back in the bathroom, the testing light showed a positive result. I remounted the holder and attached a new bulb. No problem – the bulb lit up.

Ah! Only if I had checked the MCB first! We could have saved fifteen minutes, I thought.

I looked at Rani. She was busy putting the screwdrivers back. I placed the stool back to its original position, looking forward to face fresh challenges.