" Aawaz de kahan hai, Duniya meri jawaan hai," The melodious tune, sung a trifle hoarsely, by my grandad, had me wincing. A song i associated with my childhood, my dad hummed it as he bathed, or tinkered with the electrical equipment at home. Mom, of course, would put in her tuppenny bit by smartly reminding him that indeed it was silent, the bell he was repairing. But now, listening to it at high volumes, emanating from the television, i didn't have the heart to intervene. But, i headed inside to get my earmuffs. Only they were already on my long suffering spouse's ears. My daughter, was happily listening to Justin Bieber and lustily joining in the rendition of "Baby, Bayby, oh....Baybeee.. "
Hurriedly, i retreated into the kitchen. It was a sunday, and i guess everybody was 'chilling ' out, as my son put it. Once there, i immersed myself into the recipe for my stew, and didn't look up when my maid trooped in. "Kitchen clean karne ka hai, mum." Young and impressionable, she was into mimicking my teenaged daughter, and made her voice suitably high pitched, blending in the hinglish with ease. All was quiet for some time, until i realised that from near my feet somewhere was blaring "Chikni chameli, chhat pe akeli pauwa chhadane aayee.." Exasperated, i gestured for her to turn down the volume of her cell phone. When i realised that that was not happening, i looked down to see a curvy bottom, the saree tucked in between, maharashtrian style, shaking to the latest bollywood hit song, even as she scrubbed the kitchen floor, on all fours. When i protested, she pointedly yelled that i was obstructing her, and would i please go elsewhere.
Once again i backed out, and decided i'd rest my weary ears, with a spot of meditation on the terrace. Sighing with relief, i sat contorting my protesting legs in the lotus pose(I was new to it, and the years of indulgence weighed heavy,pun intended!) A minute later, i jumped out of my skin, as the loud jangling of a guitar, strummed by my novice teen neighbour, erupted from the adjoining balcony. Seeing my pained expression, the sadist pointed to his bandmates who were preparing to assail the colony with drums and a boy who was much infatuated with opera, but sounded like Bianca Castafiore, of Tintin fame, on a bad day !
Next thing i found myself screaming, "nahi......" almost like a hindi film of heroine of yore, when faced with the villain, as i dashed down to my granmother's room, the one with sound proof windows. As i flopped into her armchair, my eyes closed wearily,I felt a tap on my hand. It was gran And she was holding out her newly acquired i pod and head phones. "You look tired beta, here listen to some bhajans. So relaxing."
I reached out, strapped on the headphones, and leaned back weakly on the chair. Only i forgot to switch it on. If you can't join 'em, lick 'em, i say.
Hurriedly, i retreated into the kitchen. It was a sunday, and i guess everybody was 'chilling ' out, as my son put it. Once there, i immersed myself into the recipe for my stew, and didn't look up when my maid trooped in. "Kitchen clean karne ka hai, mum." Young and impressionable, she was into mimicking my teenaged daughter, and made her voice suitably high pitched, blending in the hinglish with ease. All was quiet for some time, until i realised that from near my feet somewhere was blaring "Chikni chameli, chhat pe akeli pauwa chhadane aayee.." Exasperated, i gestured for her to turn down the volume of her cell phone. When i realised that that was not happening, i looked down to see a curvy bottom, the saree tucked in between, maharashtrian style, shaking to the latest bollywood hit song, even as she scrubbed the kitchen floor, on all fours. When i protested, she pointedly yelled that i was obstructing her, and would i please go elsewhere.
Once again i backed out, and decided i'd rest my weary ears, with a spot of meditation on the terrace. Sighing with relief, i sat contorting my protesting legs in the lotus pose(I was new to it, and the years of indulgence weighed heavy,pun intended!) A minute later, i jumped out of my skin, as the loud jangling of a guitar, strummed by my novice teen neighbour, erupted from the adjoining balcony. Seeing my pained expression, the sadist pointed to his bandmates who were preparing to assail the colony with drums and a boy who was much infatuated with opera, but sounded like Bianca Castafiore, of Tintin fame, on a bad day !
Next thing i found myself screaming, "nahi......" almost like a hindi film of heroine of yore, when faced with the villain, as i dashed down to my granmother's room, the one with sound proof windows. As i flopped into her armchair, my eyes closed wearily,I felt a tap on my hand. It was gran And she was holding out her newly acquired i pod and head phones. "You look tired beta, here listen to some bhajans. So relaxing."
I reached out, strapped on the headphones, and leaned back weakly on the chair. Only i forgot to switch it on. If you can't join 'em, lick 'em, i say.
totally agree! cant join, lick!
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