The men of the house got into a scuffle today – the father and the son. Who was at fault? Read on and decide.
The son was in high spirits what with Nanu and Nani ma spoiling him silly and was showing off his skill with his favourite toy, the gada. Enter the daddy.. a tad sleepy considering he got home at 3 am and hence not in the best of humours. One swipe of the brave gada and daddy’s specs came flying down.. the lenses and the frames sailed to two different corners of the room. The eyes, spared mercifully.
|Happy to help|
Predictably the daddy lost it. The erring gada was promptly confiscated and consigned to the loft. That was of course sacrilege. If you have been a brave and patient reader of this blog you’ll know what the gada means to the son. It’s his weakness and his strength. He has it by his side when he’s eating, sleeping or watching television. Each time we go visiting we have a tussle because he wants to carry it with him. A few days back he wanted to take it down when he went to play the dandiya.
All hell broke lose. I sprinted to the spot to mediate, which I did quite well. Within ten minutes the son was persuaded to tender an apology. The father accepted (after 20 minutes because he was at his phone, as usual).
The daughter, who has perhaps been the worst hit by her brother, literally and figuratively, then persuaded the daddy to return the gada to her heartbroken sibling. She sure can twist the big man round her little finger. Up she went on daddy's head and got down the precious gada. Some wars are easier won by love than anger. Hrit that's a lesson for you from your sister.
Labels: Daddy, Hrit