The calling from Stuart Little!
The phone rang & startled me from the report I had been concentrating on. The quarterly managers meet was around the corner & my reports were yet to culminate into a productive chart for the presentation.
My seven year old daughter was at the other end. In a small quivering voice she reminded that I had forgotten my promise.
Oh shoot! That puny guinea pig…Little Stuart was the cause of grief for all the parents’ n children in town. He beckoned invitingly to every kid from every TV channel & Sonia being a reasonably normal child was eating, sleeping, breathing, talking, and dreaming Little Stuart.
She counted days, hours, minutes & seconds to meet her buddy & pleaded her mum with all kinds of false promises of literary progress.
So here I was…my presentation was looming threateningly on my horizon & my conscience was riding high on a guilt trip.
With Sonia’s arrival, I had quit work & opted to stay home. Four years of being away from the rat race had brought my mental abilities into a cardiac arrest.
My friends had traveled a long way up the corporate ladder which had left me struggling like the tortoise from the famous “mother of all races”. And then it was also my Bihari blood’s honour that was at stake.
Back to Stuart…my immediate atom of grief. He kept making silent entries at the top-right corner of my computer screen at regular intervals waving friendly reminding me of my duties as a female parent.
When the saccrined dose of extra niceness was too much to handle...I decided to down the shutters at work. The mind was in any case, floating dangerously in the area where the multiplex was situated. Every harried parent was getting sucked into the theatre’s orbit creating a massive traffic occlude.
The plan was to head home, get Sonia organized into a respectable kid of an estimably respectable mother & hurry to catch the evening show of Little Stuart.
So I get out of the lift…hollering to make my presence felt & get Sonia to fall in line from her hiding place in the remotest corner of the house where our regular roaches’ n spiders resided. Incidentally, the lizards didn’t give them company coz it was hibernation time for them at that time of the year.
Once Sonia is wiped clean n powdered, we gallop to catch the first rickshaw that could transport us to the movie hall at break neck speed.
The traffic is plugged from all sides & by the time we reach the hall…the booking counter has shut shop. My pleading eyes do not move the meanie at the counter as he announces that it’s a house full show & with a wave of his hand unceremoniously dismisses us.
Sonia is crestfallen & her lips shape into a pouty crescent, eyes threatening to spill the sorrow that was bleeding her heart. Her gait pulled at the cockles of my heart & I fervently prayed for a miracle that would bring a smile back to my child’s face.
The meanie, in the mean time was absorbing all this & something pulled at his shriveled heart strings. So he beckoned to me & said…how many tickets did you say you wanted? I have two kept aside for a customer that I can give you.
MIRACLE! GOD…where are you? Ahem! Are you staring at me through this meanie’s face?
I could have kissed the gravelly stubble of this sweaty…swarthy man for being such an angel. Sonia shrieked in rejoice breaking into the latest foxtrot that she had been practicing at home.
Holding hands we run up the stairs like steroid administered athletes. Hearts pounding & a triumphant grin in tow, we enter the already dark theatre. Our seats are approximately nine feet away from the screen. Sonia’s delight knows no bounds as she points out that she’s the closest to Stuart Little.
As we settle into the story & get transported into a different world, I’m startled by a touch. Someone’s probing in the dark! And then I feel a squeeze n a wet kiss on the back of my hand from this little devil that had brought her mum down on her knees to meet her sassy friend…this Little Stuart!
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006
My seven year old daughter was at the other end. In a small quivering voice she reminded that I had forgotten my promise.
Oh shoot! That puny guinea pig…Little Stuart was the cause of grief for all the parents’ n children in town. He beckoned invitingly to every kid from every TV channel & Sonia being a reasonably normal child was eating, sleeping, breathing, talking, and dreaming Little Stuart.
She counted days, hours, minutes & seconds to meet her buddy & pleaded her mum with all kinds of false promises of literary progress.
So here I was…my presentation was looming threateningly on my horizon & my conscience was riding high on a guilt trip.
With Sonia’s arrival, I had quit work & opted to stay home. Four years of being away from the rat race had brought my mental abilities into a cardiac arrest.
My friends had traveled a long way up the corporate ladder which had left me struggling like the tortoise from the famous “mother of all races”. And then it was also my Bihari blood’s honour that was at stake.
Back to Stuart…my immediate atom of grief. He kept making silent entries at the top-right corner of my computer screen at regular intervals waving friendly reminding me of my duties as a female parent.
When the saccrined dose of extra niceness was too much to handle...I decided to down the shutters at work. The mind was in any case, floating dangerously in the area where the multiplex was situated. Every harried parent was getting sucked into the theatre’s orbit creating a massive traffic occlude.
The plan was to head home, get Sonia organized into a respectable kid of an estimably respectable mother & hurry to catch the evening show of Little Stuart.
So I get out of the lift…hollering to make my presence felt & get Sonia to fall in line from her hiding place in the remotest corner of the house where our regular roaches’ n spiders resided. Incidentally, the lizards didn’t give them company coz it was hibernation time for them at that time of the year.
Once Sonia is wiped clean n powdered, we gallop to catch the first rickshaw that could transport us to the movie hall at break neck speed.
The traffic is plugged from all sides & by the time we reach the hall…the booking counter has shut shop. My pleading eyes do not move the meanie at the counter as he announces that it’s a house full show & with a wave of his hand unceremoniously dismisses us.
Sonia is crestfallen & her lips shape into a pouty crescent, eyes threatening to spill the sorrow that was bleeding her heart. Her gait pulled at the cockles of my heart & I fervently prayed for a miracle that would bring a smile back to my child’s face.
The meanie, in the mean time was absorbing all this & something pulled at his shriveled heart strings. So he beckoned to me & said…how many tickets did you say you wanted? I have two kept aside for a customer that I can give you.
MIRACLE! GOD…where are you? Ahem! Are you staring at me through this meanie’s face?
I could have kissed the gravelly stubble of this sweaty…swarthy man for being such an angel. Sonia shrieked in rejoice breaking into the latest foxtrot that she had been practicing at home.
Holding hands we run up the stairs like steroid administered athletes. Hearts pounding & a triumphant grin in tow, we enter the already dark theatre. Our seats are approximately nine feet away from the screen. Sonia’s delight knows no bounds as she points out that she’s the closest to Stuart Little.
As we settle into the story & get transported into a different world, I’m startled by a touch. Someone’s probing in the dark! And then I feel a squeeze n a wet kiss on the back of my hand from this little devil that had brought her mum down on her knees to meet her sassy friend…this Little Stuart!
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006
posted by Bunty's Banter at 10:24 AM
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