A baby's eyes are riveted on a flower or a butterfly. It keeps looking at the object with unwinking eyes, eyes full of wonder, for minutes together.
A mother calls her teenage daughter to go and have lunch, but there is no response.
The call is repeated twice, thrice; still there is no response.
The girl just does not hear, though her ears are very much open.
Nor is she deaf.
What could be the reason, then, for her not hearing?
Her mind is immersed in a Sherlock Holmes or a Harold Robbins; her eyes are glued to the lines; her face is buried in the book.
To be continued ...