Gone Are The Days Of Innocence!

October 14, 2010
Being Cynical

This piece is for all those infants who would be enjoying their feeding bottles now

I am searching for the person who said – kids are blessings of God. I don’t know what crime I might have committed in my previous incarnations, I always find myself on the receiving end of these kids. The last time I counted, my elder nephew has already peed on me 52 times. I am sure I can’t be an exception and there could be millions of helpless individuals like me who must have suffered a lot for a species called kids.

You are just back from a long and tiring trans-Atlantic flight travelling inside that cylinder. Taking your much needed sleep to get over your jet-lag and barely showing enough signs to stop your lawyers from reading out your will. ‘Yawwww..Yeiiii..WoW..WoW’, there goes that siren which would make the train whistle sound like a Lata Mangeshkar melody in comparison. You get up from your slumber as if you were thrown right into the middle of a battle zone only to find the mother consoling the inconsolable kid who in turn only seems to be interested in beating the living daylights out of your sleep. I think kids go along a very funny equation – the more sorry you are the happier the kid becomes. I am sure Alok Nath must have the happiest kids in the world. For better results you can take them in your lap and stand in one leg (more like a Nataraj pose) atop broken glass pieces.

You are in the verge of missing your important morning meeting – thanks to that extra large peg Vodka last night. You are in the middle of the hurriedness of your life and commit that cardinal mistake – Slide down the nappy, just to verify if things are fine at the ground level. Mr. Murphy comes handy and from nowhere a projectile of pee lands on you – half on your face and the rest on your ironed Shirt. As you are left with little or no time, you just wonder for a fraction of a second – was he waiting for your face with his cannon ready. Forget the meeting and prepare for your boss’s red eyes. Most frustrating would be the nonchalant attitude of the kid towards your precarious condition, same as those Bangladeshi refugees. Rather than being sorry for his water work he would be delighted at the view of a half drenched idiot in front of him and make all sorts of joyful noises. You can’t shout with joy for that flamboyant cover drive of Sachin as the kid would be sleeping and if you do so then the mother of the creature would run around the room cursing half at you and the rest at Sachin. Not to mention – you have to listen much of the juicy debates on TV with your TV almost in mute position.

I have this unfortunate coincidence of traveling with a screeching kid whenever I pack my bags. I am sure there would be thousands of flights taking off around the globe without a nappy or feeding bottle in sight but the moment I book a ticket, destiny makes sure to attach a howling infant as the flight's payload. The irony is the infant has to be positioned either just in front or behind me and most of the times in the same row. When the lady asks – which seat you would prefer, I politely reply – doesn’t matter as long as I have a howling infant close by. To amuse me, most of the time they comply with my request. In synchronous with the shrilling sound of the jet engine for take-off, the infant makes his voice shriller. ‘Yeeeeeeeeee……Wuuuuuuuuuu…’   and by the time the flight is completely airborne you are half deaf and praying more for the kid to get silent than the flight not crashing into some paddy field. Can’t the mothers of all such creatures take a fistful of those ear buds and stuff it right down the vocal cord of their infants?Like the Jaat community who thinks the solution to every problem is nothing but a couple of tractors full of villagers each with a lathi in hand, these kids think the solution to everything is – cry and screech at the top of your voice. After getting tortured in the hands of these kids for years, I finally decided to fight back. The best solution in my mind is to pay them back in their own coin and let them taste their own medicine. When my nephew once did twist his lips to make that unbearable sound of crying in front of me, I beat him to the punch line. Before he could start crying I howled at him like I never did and made some out of the world noise. Trust me – he not only stopped in his preparation for that cry at once but also went numb for the rest of the day. It is 3 year since I haven’t seen my nephew crying in front of me at least. That’s how you should catch the bull by the horn. Tit-for-Tat pays of at times and more so if the Tat is aimed against a Tit of a infant or toddler. 

It is about time you kids mold yourself and stop torturing innocent souls like us. The world is changing and for heaven’s sake change yourself for good as it would look bizarre if we get to hear fathers howling more than their infants to implement that Tit-for-Tat method of mine. I hope some civic sense would prevail with you guys and help make this world a slightly less noisy place to live in. Now enough and get back to your feeding bottles!!

Fun is the next essential ingredient after Oxygen for this author. This chap is writing humor for quite some time without realizing that no one is reading. An IT coolie by profession he took to writing as he found Mayawati is not doing enough to balance out the daily dose of Humor needed by the human race. He could be found in all suspicious looking cyber spaces - From Orkut to Facebook, From Linkedin to Desibaba. The author can be reached via his Email which he invariably checks every 5 minutes (as he has nothing better to do). So if you are deprived of a big useless mail for sometime then just drop a test mail to this chap. You won't be disappointed. If you want a reply in double quick time then don't forget to add 'HOT PARTY GIRLS' or something like that somewhere in the subject line. Though he titled his blog as 'Being Cynical', regular readers feel, it should have been 'Occasionally Cynical, Mostly Mental'. P.S :- Befriending this human being is at the sole responsibility of the individual. It could bring unimaginable mental agony.
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