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| Astrology
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“Son,
shouldn’t you be leaving? It’s getting late for Office” warns mom. “But
amma, I haven’t even finished the idlis, leave alone the
coffee”, I protest. “Why
don’t you take an idli in your hand and rush out like time
conscious Shah Rukh always seems to be doing at breakfast time in the
movies? “ questions mom. “Mom,
you’re seeing too much television for your good and what’s more
without sufficiently observing the details. Shah Rukh always dashes with a
slice of bread in his hand not an idli. With idlis, things
are more complex. If I dashed out with idlis where do I keep the sambhar,
the chutney? Let go of those dashing heroes and watch me lap up your
smashing idlis. Please one more idli” says me, poetically. Mom
stomps out of the dining hall kitchen-wise, requesting Lord Vinayak to
lend some sense to her
delinquent son. Me, I never knew the guy was a reformer too. Just shows,
how versatile our gods can be! “Hey
mom, what about that idli”, I demand meekly. “Son,
its 8.45 a.m., your office starts at 9.00 a.m. Shouldn’t you at least be
getting tense. Look at Tommy, always on time.” “Mom,
you can flex either your employees or their time. Our company chooses the
latter. By the way, who’s this Tommy character, don’t seem to have met
him?” “So
you don’t even know who Tommy is. Your current affairs knowledge is
demeaning to say the least. Wonder why your company continues to keep you.
Tommy is Twinki’s brother.” Now,
mom’s made the topic intriguing with this Twinki character making her
entry. “Who’s
Twinki?”, I ask mom, trying to sound disinterested,
but wondering @ speed of thought if she’s that cute chick I saw
bargaining with the corner store baaji wala yesterday. Come to
think of it, these baaji guys are damn lucky chaps. They get to
converse for hours together with all the alien (read out of the world)
dames. In fact, I suspect that the devils purposefully raise prices in
order to win more time haggling with the gals. I wistfully wonder if mom
would have kept her side of the bargain when she threatened to make a baaji
wala out of me if I flunked academics. Knowing mom, she wouldn’t
have, or even if she had she would have set up a shop for me in an all
male locality. “Now
that’s unbelievable, “ exclaims mom, cutting across my reverie, “
don’t you know Twinki, daughter of Johnson, main character in the prime
time noon soap opera?” “You
TALKED all this TIME about A SOAP?” I cry hoarsely, offering silent
apologies to the baaji wala species as all my thoughts fall like
the nimblest of nine pins. “What’s
wrong with a soap opera?” demands mom defensively. “Nothing,
except like their namesake chemical preparations, they slip out of your
reach just when you think you’ve caught up with them. By the way, can I
have more coffee? No? Not even on second thoughts? Not even if I take back
that slur of mine on soaps?
No? Very well then”. I walk toward the door wistfully thinking of what
could have been. “Hey,
Ramesh has just scored another fifty,” says dad, looking like a roman
emperor, head reclining on the sofa, breakfast in hand. Coffee
is next on the menu. I believe I could get dad to share some with me. I
settle down to watch a spot of TV. Our guy is setting the screen ablaze
with his delectable shots played with undeletable footwork. The Female
species protest that this is okay, as long as he is delectable, whatever
that means. If you ever get that piece of logic, do let me know. ‘So,
you haven’t still left” says mom resignedly. “Mom
coffee” say I. “Give
the poor boy some”, says dad, who hopes my continuing presence would
stop the inevitable – mom changing the channel to tune into the latest
recipes. Mom
relents and I drink my coffee. And then? I leave, of course. Can’t
negotiate forever. Besides, have got to go, spread some sweetness and
light elsewhere, too, haven’t I?
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