Secret of the TV Wall – My first 3WW

I’ve been following the very interesting 3WW at Intrepid Dreamer’s blog for the last couple of weeks. Every week, I manage to miss it… and today, finally, I landed at the page on a Wednesday 🙂 So here’s my entry:

3 words: Engulf, Imminent, Tamper

———–

Daughters. Sons. Grandchildren. They huddled around the hospital bed. She was 90. Frail, weak. ‘Some water, Ma?’ the youngest daughter asked. Ma shook her head. Very slightly. ‘Wi…’ she muttered. Nobody heard. They were far too engulfed in sorrow. Much as they had hated the old hag, the fact was, they had spent a lifetime with her. Living off her ancestral wealth! ‘Wi…’ Ma said again, this time, a little louder.

The eldest daughter heard. ‘Did you want something, Ma?’ A look of exasperation crossed Ma’s wrinkled face. She motioned to the  wall across the huge hall, on which hung a massive TV. The ‘TV wall’ was famous within family circles. It was supposed to have a secret brick, which, when removed, would reveal the ‘Keys’. Keys to what? That nobody knew. Except Ma.

They crowded closer by her bedside, to get a better view. Or to hear better, as the case might have been!

‘Go on Ma, tell us..’ the eldest grandchild coaxed.

‘Wiiiiiii…’ Ma urged, motioning wildly towards the ‘TV Wall’ with both hands.

Murmurs arose within the closed room.

‘Wall? Is she pointing at the wall?’

‘Shush…quiet.. I think she means her Will. That’s what she’s been hiding behind the TV all these years!’

‘Tee hee, Granny wants to wee ;-)’ giggled the youngest of the brigade.

‘Wow.. a Will.. Wow!!’ the older ones whispered in sheer admiration. A real mystery, that too, in their otherwise mundane, insignificant little lives!

The macho men in the room took big strides towards the TV wall, and tried to pry the TV off from its stand.

Ma raised her eyebrows in alarm.

‘Don’t worry Ma, we will give you the Will in a minute..’

Ma shook her head, and lifted both hands towards the heavens above.

The daughters nodded wisely. ‘We know, you’ve waited all these years to share this moment with us…’

Ma clutched her head, and with all her energy, managed to pull out some perfectly silvery hair.

‘What’s wrong, Ma? Are you not happy? We won’t tamper with your Will, don’t you worry! Your wish will be our command! We swear!!’

Ma shook her head, rather vigorously.

‘My end … is imminent!!’ Ma cried.

‘Be brave, Ma, it is us who will be left alone..  Come, let’s atleast read your last wishes in the will now‘, the daughters sobbed. A small, empty bottle of glycerine lay in the dustbin under the bed.

The men were still working hard at removing the TV. ‘Fetch the screwdriver, you fool! We don’t have all day!!’ shouted the elder son to the younger.

There was chaos all around. Men hunting for a Will. Women waiting for the hunt to end! Children whispering animatedly, at what would be in the Will!

Until finally, ‘Crash!’ Ma grabbed the glass of water by her bedside, and threw it on the floor, with all her might.

‘Can you dumb fools stop breaking my new flatscreen TV?’ she managed to scream.

The daughters looked at each other, in disbelief. Sons and grandsons heard it loud and clear. They turned around, confused!

‘But.. but what about your Will?’ the daughters questioned, tears having disappeared rather magically.

‘My Wi…’  Ma whispered again.

‘Your will, dearest Ma?’ the youngest daughter cooed.

‘Shut up, you useless fools. No damn will. And no bloody money. I’ve donated everything before you vultures came to my deathbed. Now give me my damn Wii from the rack beside the TV. I want to play one last game!’

——–

… To read my other pieces of Fiction, please click here…Thanks!!

Kaju Katli in a jiffy

This post is for the sweet-lovers 🙂 And this is seriously simple. If I can make it, then ANYBODY can!!

What to keep ready:

– 1 cup cashews

– 1/2 cup sugar

– 1/4 cup water

(That’s it!! Can you believe it?!! :shock:)

How to make this thingy:

– Grind the sugar (10 secs or so, to turn it into a fine powder)

– Boil the water, add the sugar, let it simmer a while (5 mins or under)

– Grind the cashews (ditto), add to the simmering sugar syrup thing

– Let it thicken, no lumps, until the mixture turns dry 🙄 Don’t let it get burnt though.

How to test if its ready: In about 6 – 8 mins or so, if you take out a drop (don’t you DARE touch it by hand, or you won’t forget me or this blog in a long long time!!) of the mixture and leave it outside, it should ideally become hard. That means your mixture is ready.

– Pour it onto butter paper and wait till it cools a little (5-10 mins). Trust me, you don’t want to even touch it at this temperature!! 🙄

– Knead it well into a ball (for about 2 mins) – roll out into a circle (I kneaded it using butter paper, as the mixture was way too hot for me to handle, and I couldn’t wait that long for it to cool 😉 )

– Once fully cooled, cut into diamonds 🙂 That is my favourite part 🙂 I remember my Paati making Beda (Jeera Para) this way. Its very therapeutic, actually!!

FINITO 🙂

End to end, this should take less than half hour or so. Not bad, huh?

The reticent (flash fiction)

Reticent. That is what best describes me. Probably. My mum would have found the right word. Had she been around. Infact, had she not left, I would probably not be – reticent.

Picasso's 'Mother and Child' (Image courtesy: Google images)

She was wonderful – my mother. I don’t remember her being pretty. Nor attractive. But when she came to collect me from school, my friends would spot her bulky frame, run towards her to greet her. They would tell her about what they did in the classroom that day. She would be all smiles. Crows-feet around her eyes. Yes, that’s what I remember most about her. When she smiled, her eyes would sparkle. And crows-feet would form around the corners. She would laugh heartily at what Gabbi or Maya said. Or at Ben screaming like a Dinosaur! If Sophia hung onto the fence, crying for her Mommy, my mum would promptly tell her ‘Don’t worry darling, I saw your Mommy on the way, she is going to be here very soon!’

And all the time, I would watch – hiding behind a play tent –her eyes would be looking for me. Searching… searching…And when they found me – they would light up, like she had witnessed fireworks in the sky!!

Anyway. The days we spent at the hospital. She would lie limp on the bed. I would chatter. Incessantly. She would smile. Mostly! Sometimes, she would simply ask me to ‘shush‘. I couldn’t. Well, that’s me. Excited, animated, energetic. I think – well, I know – that that spirit is what she loved most about me.

That last day, I went to wake her up. And when she did, I ..I .. cannot explain. Pale, ashen face. Hollow eyes. Dry, cracked lips. Almost, an ugly ghost in the place of my beautiful mother.

I shrank. ‘Go Away!!’ I screamed. I ran out of that room, screaming ‘Just go away!!’. That was the last I saw of her. They didn’t allow me at her funeral. They thought I was too young.

How do I remember – you might ask. You see, some things – events, faces – just get etched – deep, deep down – somewhere.. somewhere beyond even Memory! Just like a photograph. Flash, click. The moment captured – for eternity.

Sometimes, I wake up, looking for her. Wake up right in the middle of a dream – Of me waiting behind my school fence. Hiding behind a play-tent. My eyes, searching. Searching…

Sometimes, I pretend to go back to sleep and continue the dream – and try to imagine that I’ve found her.

Her face is beautiful again. I cannot bring myself to see her ‘other’ face. Even in a pretend dream – it is too difficult.

I simply stand and stare. She waits, with a smile that lights up her face.

And I? I have so much – just so much – to say to her. I have to tell her that Maya hurted my feelings. That Ben invited me to his birthday party. That.. that..I’m so clever that I know all about the continents.

But not a word comes up to my lips. My dry, cracked lips. And suddenly, my mind goes blank. There is only one thing that I want to say. Only one.

But my throat hurts so bad, that I’m unable to bring myself to say it … ‘Mummy, I’m sorry I got afraid’.

You see, I am reticent. I really am. Because none of it matters any more.

A for appal, B for ball

R’s school serves the kids a few pieces of fruit every day, at snack time. Milk too, which R promptly pours out into some other child’s tumbler! Fruit, he eats, I presume!

Every day, I ask him the same question: ‘What did you eat today?’ And every day, he gives me the same answer: ‘Appal‘. Today was slightly different. This is how:-

Me: What did you eat today?

R: Appal. A for Appal.

Me: Wow! (Clearly impressed, that the school is teaching him to relate alphabet to objects)

R: B for Ball.

Me – excited, wanting to hear more!: Well done! And ‘C’ is for…. ?

R: C for Cider!!!

***@@@%%% WTH??!!!!***@@@%%%

Finish and Win Contest by Chatterbox

If you haven’t heard before, you’re missing out on something really interesting 🙂 Please hop over to Chatterbox’s very cool ‘Finish to win’ contest. Vote for whichever entry you liked most!! (Fingers crossed for it to be mine 😉 )

An afternoon with Giri

An afternoon with Handsome Giri, is what this title should actually read.

Yeah, now do not get ideas. ‘Giri-giri Peck’ – the dashing Gregory Peck (as my lovely little sister adorably named him once upon a time, when we – my sister and I – were both children).

Now, this week has been pretty busy, and with school re-opening today, I decided at noon (yesterday, that is) to ‘enjoy’ what was technically the last ‘holiday‘ for the term, by spending some quality ‘me time’.

Lucky for me, this is what we stumbled upon. And I say ‘we‘ because the brat refused to nap, and insisted on watching the movie with me, sitting ‘quietly’ on the other sofa!

As the curtains unfolded, I grabbed a mug of hot chocolate (Sigh! In reality, all I had was a plastic throw-away cup with some plain old water!), and curled up on the sofa. To watch the movie I’d last seen about two decades ago 🙂 with my mum (who had this huge crush on Giri-giri, which – at that time – I found utterly silly!)

Scene 1 – Dainty Audrey Hepburn (I’m sorry I only managed to find this video from Youtube and didn’t get the direct scene from the movie)

As I watch the movie unfolding, grinning stupidly, I am interrupted by this…

Lovely Audrey

‘Is she a Princess?’

I am amused by the brat’s interest. I reply ‘Yes darling’ with a huge smile. Yay! My son and I can actually enjoy a movie together!

‘Why is she removing her shoes? Is she naughty?’

I grin again. My sweet little funny, silly boy.

Wicked Witch??!!!

‘No, she isn’t naughty, her feet are aching, so she wants to take off her shoe for a few minutes’.. I venture to explain.

‘Is she trapped in a palace? Is there a wicked witch? Is that woman there the witch?’

I turn my head away from the TV, squint at the brat, just to check ….

Nah! Can’t be. He’s hasn’t even turned four. He can’t possibly… he can’t actually be doing this on purpose… !

‘No, there is no witch, now let’s keep QUIET and watch the movie’, I mutter.

A few seconds of golden silence. The spell is broken by this:

‘Why is she crying? Why? Why?’

‘Because SHE WANTS TO RUN AWAY from the palace… ‘ I say rather loudly, emphasising the ‘RUN AWAY’.

An innocent: ‘Why?’

‘Because she wants to enjoy life irresponsibly – like you – but cannot’ – I say, scathingly.

A few sober seconds. He watches TV. I watch him.

Next, the scene where Audrey Hepburn actually manages to run away from the palace.

The barrage of questions resumes. Reinforced.

‘Has she run away now?’

I refuse to answer.

‘Please speak! Has she run away?’

I give a cursory nod.

My eyes are now glowering, smouldering.. whatever.. at the little nuisance.

THE GLOWERING LOOK

Now, THIS look is going to keep him quiet. If this doesn’t, I swear I will change my name.. to.. to.. Oh sod it! Let’s just see if he can shut up now!

My brat looks uncertain for a moment. Then, he replies – BOTH to the nod AND the look, by a simple (and unflinching) – ‘Wwwwwwhyyyyyyy?’

And I’m thinking WTFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🙄 😦

The brat didn’t let me reach even this scene… that has been made, and re-made without shame, into every Indian language available.

So, guess what I very wisely did – turned the TV off, and took the brat outside instead!

Sigh! So much for an ‘interesting’ afternoon with a handsome hunk!!

I leave you to watch this: (well, if your children/grandchildren/neighbour’s children.. ANY children allow you to watch!)

Finito! The End!

Love, Lust and Tamizh Cinema

1990: ‘Chennai’ – Old, dull city. Faded tin-like PTC buses plying across dusty roads, passengers hanging out from all doors and windows too, much like grapes spilling out of a basket! Dark-skinned auto-drivers harassing their ‘savaari’ (passenger) for extra money.

Marriage was ‘arranged’ by matching horoscopes and families. And Love signified something forbidden. Passion, lust and seduction – three words used interchangeable, but sadly, all meant something borne out of duty to one’s spouse, or for someone else’s!

Seduction took many forms. Some were naive and delightful, like this:

And marriage meant a mature (beautiful, nevertheless) relationship between two equally serious adults.

Now this song is really old, but still amazes me! http://shankari.wordpress.com/, for putting this on FB 🙂

And one cannot forget this ‘then trendy’ song… (if you can stop laughing at the sensational 🙄 dance moves, that is!)

1992: For a community of people used to Hero Bhagyaraj’s hilarious flirting techniques…

… Perceptions of Love and Lust changed… with the arrival of suave fellow-south-Indian Arvind Swamy!

Suddenly, marriage changed from being a life-threatening-sober-event to something more fun and sexy.

And this innocent young girl’s idea of fun being frolicking about under waterfalls….

took the nation by storm!

Subsequently, ofcourse, we know how Bombay re-defined war, religion and passion among other things.

And suddenly, love was not ‘taboo’ or ‘gross’ any longer!!

This song, from Kalaignan, was as sensational (despite the heroine’s hair-do) as it was melodious. (Thanks, Vimmu & Scorpia, for reminding me).

Over these years, we had a deluge of ‘young’ movies, starring fresh and happy faces. ‘College life’ changed from ‘girls wearing dhavani and oily pig-tails’ to what-was-then-hep outfits 🙂 and Life also meant Fun 🙂

2000: And finally, while one could celebrate Youth and its associated freedom and carelessness, one also realised that beautiful sensual side to love.

This song from Alaipayuthey in particular was both naughty, and sensual. It showed that ‘marriage’ need not mean an always-behave-serious-relationship-of-two-mature-adults. Marriage could also mean ‘friendship’, ‘fun’ and spontaneity :-)

2001 onwards: Now, strangely, my mind goes blank when asked about songs that tingle the romance buds over the last ten years.

What songs redefined love and lust over the last ten years? Do fill in!

And on that happy note, hope you have a very good weekend, filled with sunshine, laughter and romance 😉

EDITED TO ADD:

Current faavvvvvvvvvvouurriiiiiiiiiiitttttttteeeeeeeeee:

Little Boys and Littler Girls

Once upon a time (to be more specific, this evening!), a little boy and a slightly littler girl were waiting for their respective parents to finish their work at photo studio.

The two kids started trying to communicate with each other. This is how.

Boy: Leans back on wall, hands tucked into pockets, stares at girl

Girl: Fiddles with her little Dupatta, smiles shyly at the boy

.

In a few minutes, Boy becomes bolder, walks upto Girl. Girl smiles, touches him on cheek. Boy did not expect this, hurries to hide behind his Mommy.

.

Boy asks (booming voice): ‘Why is she touching me?’

Mummy (embarassed): ‘No she isn’t touching you!’

.

Boy: ‘Oh yes, she IS. Why is she doing it?‘

Mummy (exasperated): ‘Er, because she thinks you are her friend’

.

Boy (does not look very convinced): ‘Is it because I am a Handsome Boy?’

Mummy: (Searches for place to hide her face)

.

A few minutes later, Girl prepares to leave with her dad. Turns back to give that final look, before she walks out through that door!

.

Boy (looking sad) – Turns to Mummy and asks: ‘Where is she going?’

Mummy (with a sigh of relief): ‘She’s going home’

.

Boy (looking perplexed): ‘But, Is she not going to marry me????’

Mummy: Aaaaaarrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

.

………And to think the Boy is not even 4 years old !!!! Sigh!!!!!!!! ………

.

.

.

EDITED TO ADD (2-Sep-10):

.

This morning….

.

Mummy (asks teasingly): The girl didn’t marry you, huh?

Boy (rewinds to last night): Hmmm, no, she didn’t!

.

Mummy (being mean): Why???

Boy (unflinching): She changed her mind! She thought I was a rose-bush!!!

.

Mummy (explains patiently): ‘You can marry ONLY when you are 30 and not 4, GOT IT?????’

Blushing Boy: Nods, smiles, and casually mentions Princess Jasmine!!!

??!!!!*****@@///!!!!%%%@@@??!!!!!!!!!!!

The rose, the Boy and the Tree

Caferati holds an annual GPF or Godawful Poetry Fortnight. To read more about this writing exercise, please click here.

Now, this particular godawful poem caught my attention, so I decided to write a sequel for it, assuming the original poet/author would not mind 🙂

So, here is the original poem by Aasif Shah:

An old tree craves for a company.
A boy comes and waters him.
He feels good.
‘Wish I could help you,’ says he to the boy.
‘No worries,’ replies the boy.

The tree dies.
The boy becomes lonely.
He decides to grow up.

The boy falls in love. But he can’t tell her.
He is too shy, you see.

One day, the girl gives him a red rose.

‘Hi, this is my rebirth as a rose!’ says the rose,
‘I am the old tree you once helped.’

And this is my response, rather, a sequel to his poem:-

‘Now isn’t that romantic?’ sighed the Boy
‘It certainly is’, Rose replied, coy
The boy picked up the rose, admired her beauty
‘You are, by far, most charming and pretty!’

‘Thank you’, said Rose, smiling bright
‘I came back for you, now Hug me tight!’
The boy turned red, like he was blushing…
Rose turned red too, as if petals crushing.

‘Rose, O, Rose’, Boy cried from his heart
‘Just tell me one thing, since we went apart
You made me mourn your death, and wait…
Until eternity, now let’s get this straight’

‘What is it you want so much, to know,
Proof of my love perhaps, you want me to show?’
‘No no’, replied Boy, ‘I will not put you to task’
‘But one niggling doubt, I sure want to ask!’

‘Tell me, tell me’ your heart’s desire
What is troubling your mind, O Sire!

‘Tree, O Tree, if all you wanted was Return to Me’
‘Why the hell didn’t you come back, as that girl saxy???????’

=============

And on this (ahem..) romantic note, I dedicate this poem to my Knight in shining armour 🙂 – my dream come true – on the occasion of our Wedding Anniversary!!!

(P.S: Uma, Deeps and some other well-meaning friends have been trying to bully me into writing something Mushy 😉 for the hubby, so I decided to publish the above poem instead 😉 Thank u girls, love you all 🙂 )