The claustrophobia was turning unbearable! Severing all strings in the box society, The Jack in the Box popped out of it to see the world in his light.

Open mouthed, he saw everything around and swiftly learnt up all the trades. He became Jack of all trades but could not master any within such a short time; running errands, giving quick solutions to problems and what not! Jack was highly in demand and he made numerous friends in the process.

But as we know, friends do come in all plumes and color .Many come with an intention to squeeze something out of you. Likewise, friends gravitated around Jack whole day to snatch all the tricks and tips and earn all credit at his expense. This proved to be exasperating to Jack in the long run. Hence the ‘Jackpot’ gets its name, wherein poor Jack went into a hiding.

Now those friends of Jack earned all name and fame and became specialists, Jack specialists. Only a handful of them did really go their way and qualify to lovingly hit the Jackpot, a gesture to let him know that some true friends still exist.

 Helpless as we are, we now have to make do with any of the Jacks available.

‘A’ went to visit Jack the urologist in a renowned hospital, because of some urinary discomfort. Sitting on the chair was a grumpy Jack, who carried an air of finality, and never answered queries. He did not specialize in answering.

This was followed by the customary jaunting from Jack the pathologist to Jack the radiologist and all the Jacks with a delirious hum;

‘From Jack to Jack you go

Wit reports swelling in your portfolio.’

 And all this did rightly call for a pompous conclusion—the need for an immediate biopsy.

But ‘A’, became skeptical and contemplated another try. This required him to travel to another state to consult another big Jack the urologist for advice. Bag and baggage, he went there, a two night journey by train. There ‘A’ contacted him with the reports to which the doctor closed his eyes to everything and angrily sang out;

‘Que Sara Sara

Whatever will be will be

Those fake reports, not for me to see’

So it is to be assumed he was Jack the Rival. Then, after another round of formalities,’ A’ was summoned the following month after a handout of some precautionary medicines.

The second visit spelt everything normal. This confirmed it was only a minor urinary infection, not the usual prostrate problem; a biopsy being a far cry. Thus running about this fashion is the only solution if one can afford..

 Lastly, I beseech Jack of all trades with a big Hello, to continue to feel the pulse and say it all.   Or perhaps come out with a curriculum to specialize on ‘wisdom o logy’ lest all turn from skeptics to cynics.