12th February, 2007
Much as I hate getting nostalgic about childhood like a doddering 80 year old, there are times when I just can't resist it. Today was just such a day, a day which wouldn't have been out of sync with my life 12 years ago. I bunked office today on a very flimsy premise of being slightly ill, and as if "rest" as prescribed by the doctor was the only thing that stood between me and death due to common cold.
Cycle back in time to a point when I am still in primary school and huddled under a mountain of blankets on a bright winter morning. It's Monday, as blue a time for me then, as it remains today. The exertions of a hectic weekend spent in video-gaming, terrace cricket and lots of purposeless running around had taken the mildest of tolls in the form of a lukewarm forehead. I complain in the most innocent, pure-as-driven-snow kind of voice that I am not feeling too well, and that's enough for Mom's piety to spill over. One or two quiet admonitions by Dad, on how one should take care of one's health, and how going to school is so very important later, the matter is settled. There was never any doubt over who was going to win in this emotional see-saw battle. The court always ruled in favour of "He's so ill. How can he go to school" side of things.
Covering myself with the blankets, I smile the most secret of happy smiles, one which no one would ever witness. All this while, I sense my sister's eyes drilling through the blanket, seeing through my sham, as she grudgingly got ready for school. Nowadays when I read articles about how kids are becoming more and more manipulative, I laugh! Tell me about it, you would be hard pressed to find a kid half as scheming as me!
Mom and sis off to school, while Dad leaves for office at 9'o'clock. So what does the sick boy do? He's off his bed in a flash like a wound-up spring, dividing his time between those rarely watched weekday morning cartoons and that video game monster that was crying to be vanquished. Come afternoon, and it's back into bed at about 1'o'clock, 'coz its time for Mom to return, and an appropriately saintly look on my face. In the evening, amidst a storm of protests and rebukes, I pop out of the house cricket bat on my shoulders, grinning in glee. The scam now stands exposed for all to see, but the bird has flown the coop!
Much as I hate getting nostalgic about childhood like a doddering 80 year old, there are times when I just can't resist it. Today was just such a day, a day which wouldn't have been out of sync with my life 12 years ago. I bunked office today on a very flimsy premise of being slightly ill, and as if "rest" as prescribed by the doctor was the only thing that stood between me and death due to common cold.
Cycle back in time to a point when I am still in primary school and huddled under a mountain of blankets on a bright winter morning. It's Monday, as blue a time for me then, as it remains today. The exertions of a hectic weekend spent in video-gaming, terrace cricket and lots of purposeless running around had taken the mildest of tolls in the form of a lukewarm forehead. I complain in the most innocent, pure-as-driven-snow kind of voice that I am not feeling too well, and that's enough for Mom's piety to spill over. One or two quiet admonitions by Dad, on how one should take care of one's health, and how going to school is so very important later, the matter is settled. There was never any doubt over who was going to win in this emotional see-saw battle. The court always ruled in favour of "He's so ill. How can he go to school" side of things.
Covering myself with the blankets, I smile the most secret of happy smiles, one which no one would ever witness. All this while, I sense my sister's eyes drilling through the blanket, seeing through my sham, as she grudgingly got ready for school. Nowadays when I read articles about how kids are becoming more and more manipulative, I laugh! Tell me about it, you would be hard pressed to find a kid half as scheming as me!
Mom and sis off to school, while Dad leaves for office at 9'o'clock. So what does the sick boy do? He's off his bed in a flash like a wound-up spring, dividing his time between those rarely watched weekday morning cartoons and that video game monster that was crying to be vanquished. Come afternoon, and it's back into bed at about 1'o'clock, 'coz its time for Mom to return, and an appropriately saintly look on my face. In the evening, amidst a storm of protests and rebukes, I pop out of the house cricket bat on my shoulders, grinning in glee. The scam now stands exposed for all to see, but the bird has flown the coop!
2 comments:
hey Roy..!! Good job..!! dis wasn't though much expected from a lazy bum like u..!! reminded me of good ol' school day n dos nostalgic college days..!!
keep up d good work..!!
Cheers..!!
:P reallyyyy ??!!
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