my clone - a grown-up practical joker

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"pappa giant, baby miniature"

this was the oft repeated sentence which my dottie had concocted and would greet me with this off and on, bringing on the urge to squash the little one in a bear hug and smother her with my love...

since many people wanted to see the earlier photographs of my grinning terrorist...i came across this one which was taken with a first generation digital camera i had procured from the then indian e-bay called baazee.c**...

now, as usual, a vivid memory is attached to this picture … i hope my dottie’s stories are not a drag for you talented bloggers...but i need to share this episode, among many many more...

the date: 28th Dec 2003...
the age: 8 years 28days...
stage: rajdhani express heading for new delhi...

dense fog had delayed the train interminently...expected to reach 6-7 hours late, if luck held out. Opening the door and peeking out i saw an opaque white wall few feet away from the train as it crawled at a painfully slow speed. One could have walked and overtaken it :D. Looking left i could see the engine, few bogies (coaches) ahead, cutting through the fog, dissipating it … looked like the titanic slicing through an iceberg, to let it sail through...

the attendants served some dry snacks, oranges, cold drinks and tea to the hungry passengers...mind you, this was an auxiliary meal, cobbled together due to the unprecedented delay...

i had hauled my dottie on the side upper berth, alongwith two other girls she had made friends with...none of them were complaining the extra time spent on the train, while the adults groaned and complained incessantly at the delay...

the three began peeling their oranges, chattering away to glory, reminiscent of a kitty party group indulging in serious gossip :D:D:D ... while i was engrossed in philosophical debates with the other two girl's parents...

now a little background to warn you all...my kid is extra intelligent...somewhat like me :D:D:D...and apart from being a carbon copy of what i looked like as a child her age...she also possesses ((( ufff how many s's here ))) a wicked sense of humour, a - la - shaitaan >;) ...

suddenly, she calls out to me and says: "pappa!!! come here one minute, see i think this orange is spoilt."

i look up and say "huh!" :O:O ... "what?"

i see that only the empty peel is lying by her crossed legs on the berth, all orange meat consumed...i get up go to them, grumbling "baby!!! you are saying it's spoilt after you ate the whole thing?"

she points her finger at the well-peeled peel, i see the whitish inside of the peel is sparkled with black dots all over :O:O ....ewww!!!...

since i never had to scold her ever till that date...i simply admonish her in a low tone that, when she saw the pock-marked inside of the orange peel she should have either called me before eating the orange or at least herself realised the orange was spoilt and not eaten it...

she pouts and preens, saying "sorry pappa." and "what to do, i didn't see..." and making other conciliatory noises...

i called the attendant over, while my child watches me straight-faced as i scolded the man for serving a spoilt fruit to us...

the 5 minutes which elapsed from the time she called me to review the orange peel, till the profusely apologetic attendant squirming at my irritation, this girl goes through the motions holding the right expressions and actions...

as the attendant apologised to her too saying "babba, i bring more for you, i am so so sorry..."

she burst out laffing and rolling on the berth with mirth, resembling the rolling on the floor emoticon on our Yahoo Messengers, as do her two friends...

i am wide-eyed, the attendant confused and the other co-passengers, now gathered around due to the commotion i created, are puzzled...

"i played the foooool...hi hi hi..." she goes...

i go "huh!!!" "what?" ... grrrrr :D:D

she picks up a torn tea bag, demonstrating how she sprinkled a little of it's contents on the inside of the peel...

OMD..OMD..OMD...i burst out laughing, as do all the other onlookers...the attendant, looking relieved, retreated quietly to bring a tray full of chocolate éclairs for the girls as a reward...

OMFD...i was in tears laughing as i mock spanked and rough & tumbled my giggling practical joker...one played so well, it could put an adult to shame at both conjouring such a spontaneous idea and executing it to perfection...


>:) ... >:) ... >:)

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Story of a shabby sweater...

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This was written by me on 29th December 2005 on IFF...

staring at the unbecoming muddy green (ewwww) sweater i had on while on cam, the story of it's entry into my life flashed back.

i usually detest and don't wear sweaters unless absolutely necessary, the reason why i only owned one, a smart double sided one.

i was travelling on Rajhdahani Express to drop my dottie (daughter) back after the winter vacations on 31st December 2003. As the train passed towns closer to New Delhi, people commented it was raining outside.

as it is, Delhi winters can chill the bones, and when we stepped out of the temperature controlled airconditioned compartment, we were hit by a chill which shook me the way even malaria chills don't.

we retreated back inside and i fished out her additional warm clothes to truss her up like an eskimo. then when i unzipped my duffel bag.....horrors

in the rush while packing, and the fact that i was returning the very next day, i had only packed 2 shirts and some underwear.

i called Delhi and people told me even horny street dogs have their erections frozen midway due to the chilly rain and strong winds. i panicked, visualising a 25 km ride in an open autorickshaw at speeds only Delhi drivers can pile on.

a young doctor from Defence Colony offered me a jacket, since he had a woolen one and a thick synthetic one for wet weather. i declined because if i took his synthetic one the woolen one would get spoilt in the incessant rains, and similar arguement for me not accepting the woolen one too.

i put on one extra flimsy shirt over the one i was wearing and on stepping out on the platform of the New Delhi railway station, i felt like the destitute homeless people freezing in the driving winds.

my 8 year old dottie in her unimitable style, came up with her bright idea ... said she would sit on my lap and keep pappa warm by sheilding me from the cold winds. we boarded a pre-paid auto with me close to losing sensation in my exposed hands and face, and to top it all my head and my shirt getting drenched in the strong drizzle.

this amazingly intelligent and resilient girl of mine huffs and puffs while sitting on my lap, saying she's trying to enlarge her body so as my large frame would get covered. as it is she was a darn sight larger because of the countless number of winter wear i had made her wear.

she covers my ears with her tiny hands telling me to put my freezing palms inside her sweater, squealing with mock delight for a couple of minutes as my icy palms touched the bare skin of her belly.

i began singing incoherrently & at the top of my voice like a mad-man to ward off the chill (((try it, it works))). the din of the auro-rickshaw engine providing the background music - and more or less drowning my wailing ... she joined in, both of us covering the 40 minute stretch screaming at the top of our voices to forget the north winds.

i will never forget the hilarity of the entire situation where this miniature eskimo even drew out some snacks from the bag feeding me and herself as i kept my senses from passing out.

dropping the luggage at the hotel, borrowing a muffler from the manager, we commandeered another auto to the Sarojini Market. i remember both of us hopping out on reaching the market, running for the heaps of sweaters on tables outside various shops, plucking one, putting it on and heaving a sigh of relief and paying the shopkeeper without even checking what this horrid thing looked like.

well the story is not so much about the sweater as much as it is about my beautiful child and her funny antics during this episode, which i am unable to describe vivdly ... and as usual at one point during the ride i managed to take a couple of self-snapshots at close range of both of us as a memory.

i have to keep a collection box or install a coin-slot on my Yahoo Messenger now to be able to buy a scanner soon, so as i can share the visuals to my memories by putting up these memorable photographs...



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Caught in the Act...

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The little toddler and her curiosity that always got the better of her. I have a passion for photography (((to the point of being snap-happy))) and till one point my ex-wife was the subject of my candid phtotographs. Later on it was my daughter who became the target of pappa paparazzi.

Sifting through the thousands of pix i have, i came across today one photo of her as a two year old in pajamas on her toes reaching up to get hold of the steel glass on the earthen pot holding drinking water, which she was not supposed to touch lest she knock it over and break it.

Well the camera was at hand and unknown to the mischevious little imp, i got a perfect shot of her in that position. I don't know why, but i had hit the red button again, taking a second picture in sequence - the flash having made her jump, giving me a classic shot of her still standing reaching up, BUT now staring at her father with a silly grin at being CAUGHT IN THE ACT.

Her face so much reminds me of the toothy grin smiley (emitcon) ...

...that i use in the chatrooms and the yahoo messenger.

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SELL YOUR SOUL ! ... BE IN LEAGUE WITH THE DEVIL !

Whatever our faiths, whatever our philosophy, whatever our efforts...the pain never goes away and the anarchy in every human's life rules roost.

For some it eases, for some it becomes a part of life and for some it repeats with alarming alarcity.

In the end it is for us to live with it or cope up with it, the creator is a nobody who, if He / She exists, has no right to play with lives.

I could go on with this debate, without making much sense....but i would like every individuals own input here, however ambiguous.