The Delightful Doings of Dad

While the title of this post may not go down as my most amazing attempt at alliteration, I do believe it captures the spirit-of-the-thought-that-inspires-this-post most admirably.

It is just one of those things. You know, appreciating things that were, once they've ceased to be. And we had hardly noticed that dad wasn't the laid-back life of the party anymore. There was so much else to think about, worry about, get stressed about... parties and such like seemed to belong to another galaxy. And then we got a wake up call. The kind that really wakes you up.

Like all things in our otherwise humdrum life, we made the most of the big shock, and came to Bombay to fix things. The way things were unfolding seemed to have a pattern, but before we had danced to that tune for a bit, we were thrown by all the new razzle-dazzle that cropped up every so often. Really corny most of it, and yet unexpected, for who would expect bad drama in their own life on a daily basis!?!

Yes, indeed... there was the melodramatic (picture mom doing an Amitabh from Deewar... at the temple, you know) and the psycho-dramatic (mom again, dragging me to a corner of the hospital room, and showing me the glass slat in the window that she was convinced dad had tried to remove). Oh, but this is all about mom! Let us shift to dad already!


Milk!!!

So, Late at night, the night after his biopsy, mom and I were just about falling asleep in the rather depressing hospital room when we were summoned to the ICU where dad was spending the night. Frantic, we ran all the way to the other wing of the hospital, only to find dad sitting up in bed demanding coffee. The little nurse was at a loss. Oh, this is the time for a little dialogue.

Mom: What happened? Is everything ok? Should we call the doctor?
Dad: (cherubic grin) I think i haven't been fed anything. (pout)
Me: Hi dad!
Mom: Ok... you're hungry? Shall we bring you something to drink?
Dad: (imperiously) Yes, I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee.
Me: chuckle
Mom: (coaxing) Where will I get coffee so late? They don't have room service in this hotel, you know! Would you like some milk maybe?
Dad: (condescedingly) Ok, I could have some milk.

Nurse-ling ran around and managed some milk. Dad drank it all up and decided he ought to have a little more. Mom and nurse-ling huddled together frantically to discuss the lack of milk-at-hand. I hung around poking dad companionably.

Finally, it was decided that we should both go down and explore the by-lanes around the hospital to try and discover some milk for a hungry dad. And so we walked, late at night, asking at every shop that wasn't already shut, getting redirected by every shopkeeper, until we finally stumbled upon a dauntingly built man overseeing the boiling of a really large amount of milk in the largest kadhai I'd ever seen. Mom tried unobtrusively to push me behind her (just in case any of them happened to fancy me for their second wife, I suppose). Soon we were hot-footing it back to the ICU with a packet of newly boiled milk, praying that dad hadn't come up with any other demands in the meantime.

We really should have known better. He had snuggled into bed and was sleeping like a baby, barely deigning to open an eye to acknowledge our efforts.

Rooster-man

Some time later, we moved to the brother's little house, which is quite cute, and nicely located right next to a mini-basti. Just under the bedroom window is a little open space flanked by some kind of a shack on one side, and some tin sheets on the other. It is customary for a group of barely clothed kids to spend much of their time inventing games such as climb-the-shack and other such, which all involve much squealing and merriment. Dad rather likes it.

Apart from the kids, the little open space is also used to tether two goats who are rather quiet most of the time. But the star of this little circus is undoubtedly the rooster. When I was younger, I always had the impression that a rooster somehow always managed to cock-a-doodle-doo at sunrise or even at six am, and I always imagined people could set their watches by it. Was I wrong!!!!!! This rooster sings out at whatever hour of day or night it feels like, be it midday or two in the morning. Right under our window. Loudly!

I had managed to ignore it pretty successfully, and assumed the rest of the family did too. And then, one night, dad sat up in bed sometime in the middle of the night, looking concerned.

"I can't hear the rooster... They must've eaten it up!"in such a sad voice that mom and I could not stop laughing... To put his mind at rest, the kind rooster chose that moment to announce its presence.

After that, their affinity became more pronounced every passing day! Mom and dad were doing their little bit of healing, and throughout the rooster kept up a loud accompaniment to their voices. This prolonged the healing time of course, because dad would keep laughing everytime he heard the rooster, which was everytime anyone said anything!

Mom says we may as well adopt the rooster and take it home.