Of times and timings

Its been nice being at home. I wake up to Amma's usual indignation of me sleeping on after the wake-up-deadline of 8am everyday. My father can be seen eating his breakfast at the table, silently oblivious to anything and everyone. Occasionally looking up to check the time on the wall clock. I'd still pretend to be sleeping, though I would have woken up some 2 hours ago, to wake a certain someone up. But I should say that these waking ups do not in any way hamper my sleep. waking up is OK. Its the getting up from bed that is a pain in the 'wrongest' place.

Just when I think Amma has given up on me and that I can steal in another 10-15 mins, I hear Achan thundering my sister's name. My very punctual sister is, as usual late for her classes. Amma and my sister are stalwarts at keeping time. Give them a deadline of 9am in the morning, you can be rest assured that you'll see them out of the house, very punctually, at 10.30 am. I am ready by a quarter to 8, Achan at almost the same time and Ammumma around 5 mins to the said time. Amma meanwhile can be seen humming away a song at the top of her voice, the pitch,rhythm, tune all intact. The lyrics, a mess. This facet never fails me irritate me as am particularly finicky about the lyrics of a song, not much about the other necessary factors. But all said and done, Amma still creates havoc with the lyrics and keeps singing. I bite my tongue and try to convince myself that the lyrics could have been probably written like Amma sings them too.

In between the singing and rushing out of rooms here and there, and the never ending search for safety pins to pin up her Saree, punctuality is lost on Amma. My sister, the boss of my family, and also the youngest member, believes in the motto of going out well-dressed. OK. I get that point. But not the reason why it takes so long. Before going out, my sister changes her hairstyle from a plait to a pony tail, to a french plait and then back to a plait. Her dress changes from jeans and pink top, to a black shirt, to the pink top again and then to her usual favourite white striped shirt. And then, she invariably has to wear the matching earring, slippers and watch. By the time my sister is done with her Queen's dressing and has stepped out of the house, Achan would have already started the car, blared the horn 12 times, and decided to call off the outing 3 times. Amma would have by then realized we are horribly late and begin her woes about how little chores always make her late,and ammumma would have finally finished all her sudoku exercises in our two morning dailies. I would sit next to the window, watch everything happening around me and feign concern over the necessity of punctuality. But honestly am hardly bothered. We invariably make good time anyway-all credit to Achan's brilliant car maneuvering skills.

So to come back to my mornings. I venture out of my bedroom after possibly everyone has stepped out of home. Ammumma would be happily struggling with her Sudoku and would be lost till I voice my need for coffee if she can make it. The coffee is usually the only good thing that happens in the mornings these days. The very thought of dragging myself to the good for nothing internship, at Indian Express, where I see my name printed along with articles, which I would never accept as mine, even when threatend with death, puts me off immensly. But then there are things in life which you've got to do, and counting this as one helps me just a wee little bit. And then there is always a slight twitch of the heart whenever my name appears on paper, and also an opportunity to stun people who think tuppence about you by telling them that you 'work' for the Indian Express...sigh! Probably what they call little pleasures in life.