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Humour Incidents MommySpeak

Two minutes more…

When I was younger…I mean, way younger..like when I was a child, my Mum used to wake me up every morning for school. And my standard response would be ‘Five minutes more’. After the allotted Five Minutes, I would plead for ‘Just Two minutes more..’. Sometimes she used to oblige, but considering the fact that there were two of us lazy girls around to pack to school, you could say, she was not very happy about it!

Fast-forward two and a half decades, to this weekend.

He: Wayke up, its morning!

Me: Mmmmm…(rolling under the duvet to hide)

He: Look! Its morning! Wakey..wakey!

Me: Oh please…I’m sleepy.

He: Tries pulling my duvet off, and nuzzling his nose into my ear.

Me: Hey! Hmm… 🙂 (enjoying the warmth!)…let’s sleep a little longer, please!

He: No way! Time to go!

Me: (Half the sleep has vanished by now 🙄 wondering where we HAVE to GO on a cold Sunday morning): Where the hell do we have to go?

He: Its time to play! Look, there’s the clay and building blocks!

Me: Awww…Ok fine… (He flashes a huge grin 🙂 )… Just Two Minutes More…. 😯

He: Sigh! (Thinks: Such a lazy Amma I have! 😦  )

Categories
Humour Incidents

My dead grandPaa (part-fiction, part-rant)

Every time I see the Promos for the film ‘Paa‘, I think of how strange it would be if my Grandfather were alive. For some unknown reason, Auro reminds me of the GrandPaa I never had. He died before I was even born.

[Pic courtesy Sulekha dot com]

My only memory of him are fragments of a story I’d heard somewhere, sometime (from my Grandmother, perhaps). That he was on the battlefield, and was severely hurt, along with a friend. And whilst they lay there to die, he felt thirsty, and managed somehow, to find a bottle of water. Just as he was about to take a sip, his friend motioned for some. And this gentleman thought for a second, and then selflessly gave away his water to the friend. And that was the final self-sacrificial of Mr.Raman. (Mr.Raman was my grandfather, as you might have smartly guessed by now).

So that was my impression of this stately looking gentleman.  Talking of looks, he was dashing! One look at his wedding photographs, and I had this huge crush. ‘Handsome’ would be an understatement.

A few years ago, on a visit to our ancestral village (called Poondi), we had an unforgettable taste of life in the early century (this century, ofcourse. Don’t ask me if it is the 20th or 21st or 22nd century.. am always confused about this logic – apart from many other things, that is).

The entire village was made up of just a few streets. Rows and rows of neatly built houses. Each with a frontyard, cool bench along the wall (to sit and chew paan, perhaps), thatched roof, tiny skylit hall inside, and even tinier bedrooms and bathroom.

At that impressionable age, this only proved to etch my dead GrandPaa’s image deeper in my heart.

So the last time I had a fight with my Mummy, and she said ‘How did you turn out like this? Look at your dad…such a gentleman. And you?!!”, I replied with a quick ‘And you like this? Your Daddy was so noble and you are so immature even at this age!’.

Ofcourse she didn’t take it well. I had to all but hide under the sheets like a trembling coward.

‘Whadya mean NOBLE?’, she thundered.

‘Um…(gasp)…I mean…he ..he..fought in the war!’

‘Which war?’ she boomed.

‘…Uh.. the world war? I dunno! You should know, you were his daughter!’

To my utter surprise, she did not get furious at me at all. Instead she burst out laughing!

I gaped in silence, and in a short while she had tears in her eyes, and her face was red.

‘Mummy…are you Ok?’

‘Do you know how your Grandfather died?’ she answered with a question.

‘Y..ye.yes… in war?’ (I didn’t want her to know that I knew the touching story of his sacrifice).

She again burst out laughing. Her whole body was shaking now, and tears were still streaming down her eyes.

‘He died of heart attack!’, she replied when she could control her laughter for a moment.

‘Heart attack?’, I ventured. ‘Not thirst – on the battle field?’

‘Thirst?!! The only thirst he knew was Whiskey! And what battle field are you obsessed with? He was in merchant navy! Didn’t ever see a battle. Took early retirement, couldn’t control his drinking habit. And one day, he just died of a heart attack, leaving us to fend for ourselves.’

I had just lost a battle of belief. I retreated, hurt.

Never again will I talk of my dead grandPaa. May his soul RIP.

[Edited title from ‘Fictional rant’ to ‘Part fiction part rant’]

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55-er MommySpeak Short story

Un-forgiven (55-er)

‘Why do you hate her, Sumi?’

My new bride kept silent.

‘Did she abuse you in any way?’

She looked down.

‘What IS the problem with your mum?’

A tear drop rolled off her beautiful kohl-lined eyes.

‘Problem is…

Same spirit, same zest, same frustrations…

I see myself in her.

And I cannot stand it!’

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55-er Short story

The silence of the noise (55-er)

I desisted breaking my siesta. Loud TV Soaps…Louder jazz!

But, it was ‘kaapi’ time.

Entered the hall…

Silence.

I stared, incoherent.

The photograph beamed at me.

The wife was long gone! My little ones, migrated.

It was Just me. An entire evening lay ahead!

I slumped onto the sofa. Grabbed the remote. Turned the volume to 50.

 

====

(Please excuse the silly title).

Categories
55-er Short story

The outsider (55-er)

‘Take her on our vacation?? You crazy?’, she exploded.

He remained silent.

That night. He was stretched carelessly on the mat. Near her. Sometimes talking. Sometimes laughing. Watching their favourite show.

She swallowed hard.

Realising, that mother and son shared a bond so deep, that she herself was yet to fathom, in her year-old marriage!