Mornings in Delhi:
Mj: *looks at the clock* Shoot! I’m gonna be late…
Me: *drag myself out of bed* Don’t worry. You won’t. What do you want for breakfast?
Mj: Whatever is quickest…
Me: *serve breakfast* There…
Mj: Yaar…I’m going to be late!
Meanwhile, our son Meer wakes up. Comes and hugs his father.
Meer: Baba offy (office) no na!
Mj: *reluctantly tears away from the hug* I know betu…But, Baba is going to be late…
Me: Don’t worry. You’ll make it.
Mj: *looks hatefully at the overcast sky outside* Not if it starts to rain. Damn!
Meer: *yells* Baba offy noooo naaaa!
Mj is already outside the door, punching the elevator call button anxiously. Too far to hear Meer’s plea.
Cut to over a few months later.
Mornings in Unchahar:
I step on to the balcony, to find that the guava tree shadowing it, is proudly showcasing three new fruits that have ripened since the last evening.
Me: *yell out to Mj* Mujtaba, three more…..
Meer: *runs out ahead of Mj* Baba…Gaaba (guava)
Mj plucks out a small one and hands it to Meer who gobbles it down(I kid you not!) in less than ten seconds.
Meer: Baba…mummore gaaba (one more guava)
Mj plucks one more.
Meer: *after finishing that one off, too* Baba….mummore….
Mj: Golu, those two are a little far off. Maybe, if I jump onto that *points on the tin roof of the parking shed below*
Me: Ummm… no!
Mj: Come on… it will hold.
Me: No it won’t. It’s so old and rusty…
Meer: *yells* Baabaaa….mummooore!!
Mj: See he really wants it….
Me: I know…then try something else!
Mj: Kya yaar!… Beta, your mumma isn’t as adventurous as Baba. *frowns*
Me: I am… but I like to reserve my adventurous streak, usually for things that are worth more than 20 bucks a kilo *grin to underline sarcasm*
Mj: *already deep in thought, on how to get to those guavas and hence completely misses my jab*
Mj: Hmmm….Roof! Now! *runs out*
Meer: *tails him like he knows what the plan is* (Quite a Batman and Robin moment, I must add)
Up on the roof…
Mj: *leans over the ledge* Golu, grab my shirt!
Me: Have you lost it completely!!
Meer: *tugs at Mj’s pajamas* Baaabaa…mummore gaaabaaa!!
Mj: Not my pajama!!! My shirt! My shirt!!!
Me: That’s not me! That’s Meer!! Step away from the ledge!
Mj: Yaar… It’s right here. Just hold my shirt!!
Total chaos ensues, for the next five minutes at the end of which I find Mj holding a long iron rod, twisting its end to suit his purpose; and Meer is jumping with joy, like he knows what’s going to happen next
Mj: Grab my shirt!!
I grab the shirt, and decide to play along because, frankly I don’t want to be the only one not enjoying this.
A neighbour walks out in his courtyard…
Me: Mujtaba… People are looking… And judging, I’m sure.
Mj: Shut up and keep holding… I’m almost there…
Me: It’s gonna rain…
Mj: Cool… Keep holding…
Me: It’s too far… You’ll fall…
Mj: I can get to that… I’m an Allahabadi… Plucking guavas and mangoes is in my blood.
Me: Oh puhleeeesee!
Mj: Run downstairs and catch them…
Me: Arre… The neighbours (who own the courtyard) will mind
Mj: No they won’t..
Me: I would!
Mj: Just go!
Ten super chaotic action packed minutes, one act of trespassing on someone’s property and a bounty of a half a dozen guavas later…we’re in our room, Meer is enjoying the loot.
Me and Mj (almost in unison): Let’s do this again tomorrow 🙂 🙂 🙂
NB- This reconstruction of this morning’s episode, is primarily for “those people” who have been asking me over the last few months ‘But WHY are you moving from Delhi to Unchahar?!!’; with their wide eyes highlighting their bewilderment, which to be honest wasn’t required, because their tone and the extra stress on the word WHY already had it covered.
If you don’t find your answer in there, I have nothing more to say to you 😀