life with Sebastian (part 2)

As Anand rightly pointed out, Sebastian, the 2 year old child who stays in my house, is much like a kitten. 

Let me tell you why. 

Sebastian purrs outside my bedroom door and scratches on it, wanting to be let in. 

If I don't answer, he pushes open the door anyway and peeps in with his tiny head. 

Then he kicks the door open and races in. 

If I have locked the door from inside then he scratches and cries until I let him in. 

When he is in my bedroom, I have no idea what is going to end up where. If I want him to leave, I have to scoop him up and he makes small kitten whiny noises and kicks around wildly. 

Because Sebastian is a human child and not a kitten, he thankfully doesn't have sharp claws. 

life with Sebastian

Sebastian is a 2 year old child who often comes to stay in my house.

Sebastian doesn's speak yet but he knows how to swipe and change pictures on a smartphone.

The whole world, according to Sebastian, is an edible object.

Thus every item that ever enters his line of vision immediately meets his mouth.

Of course, as we all know, the whole world is NOT edible. Most items are not. This is always a surprising discovery for Sebastian. Every time his mouth meets a non-edible object, he clutches it with his tiny hands and  throws it with all his might.

Sebastian is small but his hands are strong. Every thing that he throws lands a million miles away from its original position.

Two year olds can be so volcanic.

I wonder what are the scientific applications of this?

genuinely jealous

My Costume Designer flatmate is in a middle of a fight with her boyfriend. As a revenge tactic, she thinks going out on a date with someone new is befitting. 

She was getting ready and I was watching her, because my life really is that exciting. 

She - "Do you think I should tell my boyfriend that I am going out with someone new?"

Me -  " Why do you think you need to tell him?"

She - "To make him jealous."

Me- "I see."

She - "Actually, no. I'm not going to tell him. He doesn't deserve to know because I don't think he is going to be GENUINELY jealous"

how the maid got fired

My flatmates fired the maid.

This is because they thought the maid was stealing onions and bananas from our kitchen. 

One of them claims she shot a video of this in action. 

************************

The maid wanted a bonus. 

They said - "No. You can't have a bonus because you have been stealing onions and bananas from our kitchen. "

She said - "I have not stolen onions and bananas from your kitchen."

They said - "We have a video."

She said - "Show me the video. I will tell you if these are the onions and bananas from YOUR kitchen."

************ (action) **********

They said "You are fired."

She said - "I'm not leaving this house unless you pay me a bonus."

They said - "Leave now."

She left. She took the broomstick with her. 

We don't have a maid. 

We don't have a broomstick. 

point system

"Here in Kerala, Marx is a household name."
-- NK

"Oh, same in Tamil Nadu as well. Except over there, households spell it as M-A-R-K-S. "

-- KK



 

tales from other people's bedrooms

My friend Romangst and her husband argue about bedcovers.

She says using a bedcover is a way to ensure that the bed doesn't get dusty and so when they are ready to sleep, they can lie on a clean bed.

He says - "So when we remove the bed cover and lie down, we are exposed to dust. So it's ok by you if we get covered in dust but it's not okay for the BED to get dusty?"

*************

My friend KK compulsively buys postcards that he never sends to anyone. On occasion, he tapes a few of them up onto his bedroom walls.

I said - "What happens to the rest?" 

He said - "Most of them never make it up there. They lie in the blackhole of postcards, in a drawer in my bedroom. I buy postcards and banish them to the blackhole." 

memories with my dad

Today I suddenly remembered how one Sunday, more than 2 decades ago, my dad and I drove down to Nirula's for sweet lime soda with ice cream. 

It was a hot summer evening, I was hanging out in the house, not doing anything particular. I think Dad was craving this particular ice cream soda. Because he just came up to me out of the blue and said - "Oof do you want to go out for sweet lime soda with ice cream?"  

I was very young at that time, young enough to NOT know what an ice cream SODA is but young enough to know exactly what ice cream is, hear its name and feel excited. So I said to my Dad, "Yes."

And then he said, "Get ready, let's go."

So I did, and we sat in the car and off we went.

The drive was long. Super long. Because when I was small, Nirula's always seemed like the farthest away place on Earth.

When we reached, it was packed. Sunday crowd. Dad got his own soda, and got me a separate one.

My sharpest memories of this evening are that of sticky green goo. I didn't finish my soda. I loved the ice cream but the soda kind of ruined the fun for me.  I remember Dad teaching me how to just scoop out the ice cream from the glass and eat that alone.

Dad had his soda and I think he finished mine as well. I can't remember. What I do remember is that I have been skeptical of lime ice cream sodas ever since that day.

***

Now that I have written about that evening, I find all my memories of Dad are coming rushing back to me.

How everytime he wanted to fill petrol in his car, he would ask me if I wanted to come along for the drive. I would go, roll down the window at the pump and just smell in the petrol. Bliss.

How we used to always go for night walks together. So many night walks. Silent walks, we never used to say a word to each other. Long, long walks.

How when I slipped down the stairs one morning while carrying a bucket of water, Dad insisted on driving me to college instead of having me take the auto rickshaw.

How when I injured my arm with a golf elbow, Dad used to diligently drive me to the physiotherapist every single day and wait until my session was over and then drive me back home.

Sigh.

****

I don't allow myself to get emotional when I think about my Dad. But today seems to be one of those rare days. My cheeks feel wet now, and I'm too scared to examine my emotions too closely.

So many things have changed between those days and how my life is right now. And so many things have changed for Dad.

I think he's lonely now. I don't know if he's given up on life, may be he has.

I just felt like writing this all down because I wanted to remember the Dad I used to know.