humour Archives - Page 3 of 4

13/02/201315/04/2017

A revival

Her hands full of soap suds she worked her way through the pile of vessels in the sink. Her mind wandered off to other piles that need attention. The pile of clothes to go in the machine, the pile of ironing to be put away, another pile yet to be ironed, the pile of books that needed sorting, the pile of toys to be cleared up, … Then there were her ‘happy’ piles – the piles of books to be read, the piles of half finished crafts to be completed, the piles of cookery books needing to be explored.

NO, don’t even go there, she told herself, sternly. Don’t think any of it . Not now, Not just yet. It could all wait. It had to.

There was something else, something far more important, that needed attention. Someone was dying and she had to do something, fast. After all it was she who had brought her into this world. Now, it was only she who could save her. She was special. Boy! was she special… a friend.. nope.. not just a friend.. best friend, confidante, counsellor. Just thinking of her made her smile. She hadn’t seen her friend in weeks… it seemed like ages. And now she was dying. She had to rush to her friend. Everything else could wait.. work, kids, Husband.

She put away the last plate, rinsed and dried her hands. Then she walked off to her study, switched on the computer and started typing. She had to save her blog from dying.

28/03/201215/04/2017

The family that sleeps together…

…… doesn’t get much sleep at all
Pic Courtesy Google

In a few months the kids’ll turn 6. That’s a huge landmark considering they’ll ‘graduate’ to primary school. And so I thought it was high time they slept in their own beds. Unfortunately three and three fourths of our family thinks it’s a bad idea.

First, half the family – the kids (TK) are convinced they can happily snuggle up with papa and mama till they’re hundred.

Then, there’s The Husband (TH) who misses the kids sorely at night and doesn’t think much of my plans. Each night he tells me “bring them over to our room”.

Then there’s 3/4 me – the mushy mum (MM). Oh how she loves having the kids sleep near her, their little hands on hers, their gentle breath on her cheek, cuddling warmly, sharing a blanket… sigh she misses them so.

And finally 1/4 me – the sane mum (SM). She’s the only one on whose shoulders rests the responsibility of making it happen.

It really hasn’t been easy for SM with TKs staring at her with tear-filled eyes and TH watching her with a look more suited to Dashrath when Kakeyi banished Ram to the forest while MM has simply been wringing her hands in worry. But SM stands firm in her resolve.

A family conversation on the issue would go somewhat like this…

SM: H, N come, see I’ve put a special bed for you. You’ll be sleeping in your own room from now on.
TK (not quite ready for it, wrapping their tiny arms around my waist): But we’ll be scared mama.
MM: Okay fine we’ll try later.
SM (Quashing MM’s outburst sternly): I’m just across the hall. Call me if you get scared and I’ll be right there with you.
TK (in tears): But we like to cuddle with you when we sleep.
MM (in tears): Baby I like to cuddle you too.
SM : You can cuddle your favourite teddy.
TH (With studied casualness): Think of the extra cost – two ACs and two fans running through the night.
SM: Never mind.
MM (Pretending to be the voice of practicality): Think of the extra work – two covers to be removed each night, two beds to be cleared up and two beds to be made each morning.
SM: I’ll do it.
TK (wailing): We’re still babies, we’re not even six.
TH: They really are too small.
MM (Hating SM and desperately, hoping for a change of heart): Oh yes you’re too small.. my babies.
SM : You’re almost six.. that’s really grown up.

SM prevailed. The kids were bribed with the promise of a bunk bed on their birthday while the voice of The Husband and The Mushy Mum were ruthlessly crushed.

Since Sunday, the kids have been sleeping in their room. While N sleeps like the proverbial baby, H has come to wake up Mama each night with a “Can you please sleep with me”. Each night she has gone to put him back to sleep and have then come back to her bed. That, of course, has wrecked havoc on her schedule heavy with daily chores and the rather tough gym routine.

Four days later… SM is wavering, specially at night when MM takes over. The memory of those tear-filled eyes refuses to leave her alone. She lies awake as she wonders – will they fall out of bed? Will they get scared? Will I hear them if they call? She goes to check on the kids countless times during the night for at heart the SM is an MM. Or maybe SM doesn’t exist at all….. maybe she’s simply ….. a mum.

NO … she’s there, she has to be there, she’s only too real, she’s the voice of reason. She’s the one who will help the kids through tough times, when the MM becomes incapable of clear thought driving herself crazy with worry.

Oh the kids need them both. Love tempered with reason.

And so God bless SM with perseverance. She needs support, desperately. Raise your hands if you’re with her, people.

That’s how the kids spread themselves over three mattresses. Now consider squeezing two adults in there.
Still wondering whether you should raise your hand in SM’s support?

01/08/201015/04/2017

MW critical.. is it murder?

Our over ten year old faithful Microwave was murdered yesterday by an egg. Well actually the blame must be shared. The egg …. the early morning rush.. my ignorance .. the family members who sometimes make just too many demands. However nothing counts now. MW is no more.

It all happened during the morning rush while I was trying to prepare breakfast for the three loves of my life. All wanted eggs but one could eat only boiled, the other wanted French Toast and the third said he’d be happy with an omelet. No problem said I.. it was a Saturday, you see, and I wanted them all pampered and happy. And so while I got going with the onion chopping I thought I’d get MW to boil the egg … and bang.. disaster struck.

Within five minutes the egg was blown to pieces taking poor harmless MW with it. As I dashed to the site of the accident I found egg pieces strewn all over. MW looked deceptively alive.. almost as if it would come on at the flick of a switch and start warming my leftovers with a relish. But appearances, as they say, are deceptive and MW it seems is really dead and gone.

Not one to give up on a loved one we called Just Dial for MW doctors and got quite a list. The first one on the list was summoned home. The operation began under our watchful eyes. MW sat there in all its vulnerability with its innards exposed while the ‘doctor’ worked diligently.

“How on earth did so much water get inside?” was his puzzled query as he dried up MW.

‘So that’s where all the water went,’ I thought silently, while my gentleman husband kept quiet about my hand in the murder. Well come to think of it.. it was a mistake — a sad one one but certainly not murder in cold blood.

In any case the doctor hemmed and hawed and tchhed for a long time before pronouncing MW dead. We gave up hope and with tear laden eyes readied to bid adieu when “Wait” said the ‘doctor’ dramatically, “Maybe, just maybe we can do something.” A glimmer of hope. “I’ll have to take him to the hospital and see whether I can revive him,” he said.

And so we wait with baited breath for some good news. Meanwhile it’s cold leftovers and plenty of pan-washing for us.

Come back MW.. we miss you.

30/07/201015/04/2017

Sick bed chronicles

The virus has now has one half of the family in its clutches, one quarter just managed to vanquish it and the last quarter .. is struggling to keep it at bay.

I thought with Hrit Naisha down it couldn’t get worse.. but apparently it could and it did with Sunil going down too and badly. What’s even worse is that Hrit is well and in complete form. He can’t stand being at number three on my list of priorities.

For the past two days he has been running around the house pushing the computer revolving chair (which he insists on calling the ‘wheel chair’), dragging foot mats, toys, dustbins and whatever else it can gather along.. in and out of the balcony and all the rooms. He took great umbrage when I barred him from the ‘sick bay’. Sunil was in such a bad temper I thought he’d get the smacking of his life.

Talking of bad tempers.. Sunil was as grouchy as a bear with a sore head… (except he had a sore head all his own) I felt awful dragging him to the doctors for Naisha’s checkup but it was pouring and I needed chauffering. I reached a minute late carrying a protesting Hrit staright from the school bus stop. Apparently he didn’t want to go to the doctor’s in his school dress.. ” You don’t go anywhere in your school dress. Everyone will see me like this,” he howled, as if that was the end of the world.

By the time we reached the doctor Sunil was already calling me and complaining. “Our appointment was for 1pm, it’s already 1.10, why isn’t the doc seeing us,” he cribbed. In his defence I must add that he was running a high fever himself so it must have been quite an effort getting out. Also he has very little experience with doctors. And so my dear ignorant husband had no idea how long the wait can be.

While I was trying to decide who to pacify between a hugely irritated husband and a howling son, Naisha lay down in the waiting room out of sheer weakness and that set my priorities right. I left the father-son duo to their own devices and headed over to her. Meanwhile Sunil got a phone call and was lost to the world and Hrit seeing that no one was appreciating his tantrum was so wild he proceeded to systematically throw all the shoes and sandals outside the doctor’s waiting room.

Finally I got Naisha’s prescription and sent her off with Sunil while I got her med cert with a howling Hrit refusing to budge from my side. The looks I got from the other patients could have killed a normal human being.. but that I’m not.. I’m a mother to twins.

After we got home and the three sick and/or sulking people were given three kinds of lunches which they didn’t finish (no I’m not complaining even though I slogged over all those special farmaishes.. they are sick.. it’s okay).

I asked the local medical shop to send across medicine and in the melee forgot to ask him to get a bill. The surly husband gave the completely clueless delivery boy a huge lecture on getting medicines without bills. (Haven’t you seen on TV.. govt ads say selling without a bill is stealing… and on and on). I’m sure he’ll disconnect the line next time I ask him for a home delivery.

Then it was the turn of a telemarketing lady to get it from Sunil. All she offered was a loan at low interest rates. Sunil pretty much bit her head off.. What exactly is ‘low’? Do you know simple mathematics? That is not ‘low’ at all. Then she suggested if he could refer friends who needed loans and got a very curt, “Why would my friends come to me with their loan problems? Am I a bank?”

After that there was relative peace with Naisha and Sunil falling asleep and Hrit playing with his ‘wheel chair’ which he ‘drove around’ mercifully quietly.

Another day went by.

Naisha seems better today, should be in school on Monday after one long week at home. Sunil too seems better. Touch wood. I so want the family on it’s feet and out of my way.

27/07/201015/04/2017

Perish the virus

Recovering from two viral attacks is tough.. not one after the other but simultaneously. I have always maintained that Hrit and Naisha never trouble me together, if one is giving me a hard time the other is a model of goodness. This time they decided to make an exception, perhaps just to prove the rule. Trying to handle two four-year-olds is a challenge but trying to handle two sick four-year-olds is total insanity.
The thing about viral is that medicines don’t count. With the dependable Crocin rendered useless I resorted to sponging.
Hrit went first with his fever touching a high at 2 in the morning. When the sponging starts Hrit just gets more verbose.
With Naisha it’s me who needs to do the talking to keep her distracted. She gets quite pathetic with cries of ‘Mama do something’ and her age old ‘bahar chalo’. However, once the fever went down, the water being that Naisha is, she started to enjoy it all and proceeded to sponge herself with gusto.

The challenges that come with the virus…

To remember who has to be given which medicine and who is due for the next six-hourly dose.
To get both kids, who are now not babies by any means, on my lap without one murdering the other.
To cater to food fusses with one turning into a parantha freak and the other getting hung up on khichdi.
To sort TV fights which, though always there, took on a vicious ferocity. (I WON’T watch Ben 10, I NEVER get to watch Ben 10).
To let one of them wear a yellow tee with yellow shorts while the other one chooses a party dress to wear at home.
To get the housework done with the two kids wanting me ‘alone’ with each of them all the time.

Fun huh?

PS: Now I know what made Babar pray to God to give him Humayun’s illness.