A Question of Questions

“Sir, your question is on nuclear bomb. I would appreciate if you could restrict your question to my talk on Nuclear Family?”

The Speaker’s concluded his speech.

The person-in-charge-of-keeping-things-moving turns to the audience with the winning, yet anxious, smile of a loving mother unsure of her brood’s possible behaviour, and declares the ‘floor open for questions’.

Which immediately leads to that initial ghastly silence, followed by more proof that people usually fit into categories.

Like: The Question-ers, and, in sharp contrast, the Shrinking Violets.

The former are indefatigable.

Any topic, any time.

Even a talk on the philosophy of toothpicks won’t defeat them.

And you admire their participative spirit ... yes.

But ...

Some Question-ers sometimes get words like ‘Question’, ‘Speech’, and ‘Oratory’ a tad mixed up.

Certain misguided souls dare to settle cosily into one-on-one dialogues with the Speaker, while some lengthy questions suggest that this Question-er was probably one of those brooding, pimply wall flowers in high school everyone ignored.

Understandable then, this present-day garrulousness, but, hey, cleansing old trauma at the cost of a blameless, current audience?

Little unfair, perhaps?

Still, it’s great for the Speaker to see the Question-ers. The alternative – a sea of sullen, silent faces glowering unblinkingly at you – is too horrid.

So if the question is: To ask or not to ask, do choose ‘ask’... but exercise caution.