Manic Monday

I am rudely awakened from my sleep , the alarm singing “wake up , wake up, for its  a brand new day...”wishing vehemently that I could shut it and go back to deep slumber but no..not today...it was Monday and we are back to the grind after a well earned day’s sabbatical! To start is difficult but to restart is Herculean...and that was precisely the mode I was in at this moment...
         A bigger task awaited me , the ordeal of waking up two teenage boys ,who had spent three fourths of the previous night chatting, fighting, gaming , listening to music, though not necessarily in this order...Repeated ventures into their bedroom with vocal chords exercise starting from the mild tone “hey boys please get up , its time” to the high octaves finally yields results and they are up and about caring little to make the bed ,suddenly realizing that a mountain of unfinished tasks lay before them – activities, assignments, presentations  which had kissed the weekend goodbye and the Monday deadline stared at their faces!

         I enter the washroom with utmost trepidation, fervently praying to Almighty for the water to flow through the pipes , yes the requests to God  may sound trivial but not in my predicament. God is merciful , the security staff had not forgotten to switch on the motor, I know Iam  at the mercy of his memory!

          Soon , at my own Adda juggling milk satchets on one hand , bread loaves on the other, wish I had half a dozen more which would work in tandem to complete the morning chores, I hand the respective beverages to the boys with a reminder set every couple of minutes to drink it. Suddenly, there is a shrill call from the boy’s domain- “Amma, where on Earth is the scrap book?” Thanking the stars that it not a sledge hammer strike between the two and only a verbal assault, I answer in a tone to boot his “It is in the wooden almirah” . There is a pregnant silence  for the next 60 seconds and the shrill voice gets back , this time accompanied with swear words. Before it exceeded the limit, I rush to their territory and frantically search for the multi hued craft paper and “presto” like a magician pull them out from under a rubble of near nonsense! A sense of David defeating Goliath inundates me and the over wrought situation is brought under control. In a jiffy , Iam back where I more fully belonged- the clock strikes six and it is time to wake up the master , who by now is already out of the bed, thanks to the decibel duel that had preceeded.  Even , my loving neighbours are not spared and are jolted out of their sleep.

    Now, it is the turn of the elder, he cannot find his Math note book #2 , as he vociferously argues that he had labelled #2 the book is there right in front of our eyes albeit without the marking. I gave him a solid glare which said it all ,as there was no time for foul mouthing!

        Meanwhile the chappatis on the tava turned a wee bit more brown  and the lunch boxes were in total disarray but somehow the dextrous hands managed to pack the four boxes of the crew who were heading in different directions-  yes, different strokes for different people ....

         “Oh no!”  I uttered to myself – the uniforms for the brigade were not ironed .... I cursed myself for watching the Sunday evening movie , thereby postponing the inevitable ironing chore to the morrow, now my conscience hurt but of little use, as the kids have their bath, the uniforms are pressed  with the speed that would do a F1 driver proud. One of the blazer buttons is missing “never mind” I tell myself, nobody is going to notice. The shoes are sparkling clean due to the wizard of Oz and thankfully no white shoes on Monday!

    The spouse’s tie and socks are missing and ever so famous dialogue comes out popping “ how many times have I told you to put them where it belonged”but the oft repeated verses have little impact on the ears as my mind is on another plane... the question paper proof is not ready for the next day’s test, I quickly scribble the questions on a sheet to hand them over to the office staff , who I was sure would make a mess of it , thanks to my unbeatable calligraphy! To hell with the printer’s devil, I could always get the corrections done.
       And then comes the final straw that breaks the camel’s back... the younger one has to read the morning news in the assembly- the newspaper vendor is nowhere in sight and he searches his smart phone for the latest updates but the internet lets him down , couple of unfathomable swear words in the offing and is he finally done? God only knows!
      The all too familiar honk of the school bus and the two are off much to the maker’s relief , me and my better half start the ignition of the cold engine of the car, even it feels the blues of the Monday morning, finally we are off munching our sandwiches , I have forgotten to add salt in the coriander chutney in the sandwich, we yell , though for different reasons, one for the saltless diet and the other at the chaos on the roads....

   The famous Bangles song “It’s a manic Monday, Wish it was Sunday”...comes to life on the FM radio and I close my eyes for a fleeting moment and hope against hope that it is indeed Sunday!!!

                      ABSTRACT

Clouds in a hurry traversing the blue canvas

Myriad shapes appear from nature’s brush

Horses, polar bears, elephants and carriages

Transporting our gazes into mystical froths

Shaking our thoughts is the mirage

A blur of heat and trembling images

Leading to an oasis of new horizons

And dreams of life beyond

Mighty waves head with an unknown fury

Shores soothing the splurge to mellow

Taming yellow of the supreme power

Orbiting to dull orange of mellifluous melody

Dew drops pattern on green foliage

Palm trees swaying to rhapsody enriching us

Avenue of firs on Snow capped mountains

Glassy bubbles of prism hues bursting logic

The twisting ringlets and springrolls

The TWISTING RINGLETS and SPRINGROLLS
         
“My experiments with curly locks “had to come out of exile and see the light of the day to liberate the million thoughts of women and girls who swear by their straight hair!
    
        A 3 old holding her mother’s hands tightly , standing on the 12 th floor of Sheraton towers in Bombay,gleefully unaware of the attention that she was grabbing ....couple of European tourists were in total awe at my jet black ringlets and exclaimed “wow what luvly hair”, they ruffled my springs and gave a bear hug....how do you expect me to recall this event had it not been passed down as a legacy like the epic Mahabharat of Vyas albeit with frills and laces!!
            The next few months was a stand off between my prized possession and my mom , a virtual show down between the two challenging each other as to who would be the winner . I vividly remember the round shaped hair brush whose bristles could even wash off the stubborn mud from that of an elephant, used ,to delve deep into my hair and the result would be two nicely braided plaits with ribbons- this is the scene at 8 in the morning but a few hours down the day, as I returned from my kindergarten school, all hell broken loose ,the scene would be chaotic with hair all undone and let loose to flutter in the breeze ,all in tangles and knots with a remark from the class teacher ”what nice curly hair to be hidden in braids” and my mom’s face would be in twitches!
        Even birds, insects and micro organisms had a field day with the black nest! A crow flying high had a bird’s eye view of what it thought to be its partner and swooped down on my curls ,scraping a tuft in the process and left me in agonising pain for a few hours. The lice too made its home in my tuft thinking it to be the dense African jungle where even a ray of light will not penetrate! A feud ensued between the lice and the anti lice potion and I could have easily earned a few bucks for promoting a particular brand!!
           The twisting ringlets and spring rolls became a household name and bagged me a coveted role as the king Mahabali  in a school play much to the envy of wannabe dancers and dramatists. As we grew up listening to Whitney Houston, my friends and cousins saw an uncanny resemblance in me and the name stuck to me forever ,if only my voice had matched to her’s a wee bit !
              The photograph on the driving license said it all , my sons shred it to pieces as they felt “the looks had the license to kill”, a devil incarnate saying it with hair instead of flowers! And I woefully miss uploading that one in a million image of a “hairess”!!!
               As the girls go gaga over their straight hair and look up to Bollywood stars like Kareena and Katrina  for inspiration and run their hands through their ship shaped neatly aligned locks a thousand times per minute like the engine rpm , they simply ‘get into my hair ‘ ....right now I am in contemplation mode whether to use the Sunsilk perfect straight hair shampoo and conditioner and join the straight hair bandwagon  or be different as always and rejoice in nature’s gift of bountiful black springs , well my grandma’s words of wisdom echo in my ears” a girl with curly hair will always have her life bountiful!”