(I wrote this one a long time back, hence the title)
Poonkuzhali. October, 2011.
I managed to sneak some time with my niece yesterday in between all the noisy mawkish and unbearably excited grandfathers, grandmothers, cousins, maamas, chithis, and the entire clan. I don't understand why old people start to babble incoherently much worse than the new borns in front of them- maybe they play a game with the newborns in who gets to say the most nonsensical words or make the most outrageously stupid noises that our cave dwelling ancestors would have been proud of. I am quite sure in the entire history of human race, no newborn ever won this game. The way the grand parents talk, even shastri or gavaskar would make more sense, and frankly, there have been times when I would have gladly taken up listening to their commentary as opposed to this gibberish. Why do they not acknowledge the baby as a human being and talk normally?
My sister raises her child at a standard temperature and pressure rating of 1 bar and 294 K with the sea level of the house properly maintained, and the angle of inclination of the sun's rays in such a way that most of the UV light bounces off of the house, with a sterilizer that turns any viruses into dust for a diameter of upto 10 microns, and beyond that, we are currently involved in building a miniature Large Hadron Collider to study the impact of high energy particles to kill viruses less than 10 microns. My god, parents who have just had babies are much more painful than the babies themselves. When I was young, I distinctly recall my sister's room which was a colossal mess, and that would have been an understatement. Now, she washes the room with dettol thrice every four minutes, and dips all the other people who live in the house in a solution of Hydrochloric acid with a strong acidic pH. We have been quarantined in our own houses, and there is just no escape. Apparently, when the temperature of the food that is being blended is a little less than 29.845 C, the nutritional value is lost. We have temperature scales and sensors in our house that Lord Kelvin would have loved to get his hands on.
If there is more than one baby, the best time to be in the house is when all of them are asleep. The probability of more than one baby falling asleep is equal to the probability that I will solve the standard model in physics in under three hours. So, it is a good idea to keep off limits when there is more than one baby in the house. My own mother, the grandmother now, has completely abandoned the kitchen in favor of talking to her yet-to-start-talking little doll. How can you switch allegiance from the vendakka saambar to a toddler with such callousness? Travesty of justice, I tell you. The other day, she asked 'avanukku pasikkardha',and I answered that I was not really hungry. As it turns out, that avan was that little brat(my niece is referred to affectionately as a 'he'), and not me. Fuming, I went into the kitchen and ate all by myself. So much for avan.
Poonkuzhali. October, 2011.
I managed to sneak some time with my niece yesterday in between all the noisy mawkish and unbearably excited grandfathers, grandmothers, cousins, maamas, chithis, and the entire clan. I don't understand why old people start to babble incoherently much worse than the new borns in front of them- maybe they play a game with the newborns in who gets to say the most nonsensical words or make the most outrageously stupid noises that our cave dwelling ancestors would have been proud of. I am quite sure in the entire history of human race, no newborn ever won this game. The way the grand parents talk, even shastri or gavaskar would make more sense, and frankly, there have been times when I would have gladly taken up listening to their commentary as opposed to this gibberish. Why do they not acknowledge the baby as a human being and talk normally?
My sister raises her child at a standard temperature and pressure rating of 1 bar and 294 K with the sea level of the house properly maintained, and the angle of inclination of the sun's rays in such a way that most of the UV light bounces off of the house, with a sterilizer that turns any viruses into dust for a diameter of upto 10 microns, and beyond that, we are currently involved in building a miniature Large Hadron Collider to study the impact of high energy particles to kill viruses less than 10 microns. My god, parents who have just had babies are much more painful than the babies themselves. When I was young, I distinctly recall my sister's room which was a colossal mess, and that would have been an understatement. Now, she washes the room with dettol thrice every four minutes, and dips all the other people who live in the house in a solution of Hydrochloric acid with a strong acidic pH. We have been quarantined in our own houses, and there is just no escape. Apparently, when the temperature of the food that is being blended is a little less than 29.845 C, the nutritional value is lost. We have temperature scales and sensors in our house that Lord Kelvin would have loved to get his hands on.
If there is more than one baby, the best time to be in the house is when all of them are asleep. The probability of more than one baby falling asleep is equal to the probability that I will solve the standard model in physics in under three hours. So, it is a good idea to keep off limits when there is more than one baby in the house. My own mother, the grandmother now, has completely abandoned the kitchen in favor of talking to her yet-to-start-talking little doll. How can you switch allegiance from the vendakka saambar to a toddler with such callousness? Travesty of justice, I tell you. The other day, she asked 'avanukku pasikkardha',and I answered that I was not really hungry. As it turns out, that avan was that little brat(my niece is referred to affectionately as a 'he'), and not me. Fuming, I went into the kitchen and ate all by myself. So much for avan.
When you see a little baby crying, you can do three things:
#take chloroform, and faint.
#panic, fuss excessively, kick up a storm equivalent or greater than the noise created by the baby in the hope that it would scare the baby into silence. Fair warning, this never works.
#Genuflect infront of the gods in your poojai room, cry and beg for mercy asking for the divine astra that can put the baby to sleep.
When I see the baby crying, I go to the next room, lock the door, drink benadryl and count to a billion, by which time its over. Before it starts again.
Some common observations on the little one.
#She gets up, eats, cries, goes to sleep. How is that any different from the rest of us?
#She has to get her way, or she starts crying. If she cannot stand when she is trying, and she falls down, she begins to heave and cry. Again, how different are we?
#She becomes very restless when she doesn't have much to do, or when she is asked to do the same thing again and again. Again, the question begs repetition.
Looks like we are genetically hardwired to behave in a specific stereotypical way ever since we are born and start to understand the things we have to understand.
Life is supposed to be interesting with kids. I disagree. Life can be interesting even without them(I suppose a lot of couples are forcibly made to accept this fact). People who don't want to breed do not exactly hate kids. I love my niece; she is probably here by no fault of hers. I sincerely sympathize with new borns. The first time I see a little kid, I cannot stop but look disapprovingly at their parents. I am being told, someday, I will have kids too. If that should ever happen, please come to my house, bring a copy of this blog post just too, frame it using the thickest wooden frame and smack me hard on my head with it.
#I call my niece poonkuzhali, hence the blog title.
No comments:
Post a Comment