Days of our lives
Among the many qualities a writer – budding, budded or otherwise – should possess, the gurus say, is that of observation. I tend to agree, having been titillated by various authors who unleash superior language skills on things / situations / people they observe.
Sitcom producers do it too. Jerry Seinfeld of Seinfeld fame has apparently taken George’s character (played by Jason Alexander) from a real life person he knows.
I long for the day(s) when I can regale folk through my observations, either woven into fiction, in the form of personal essays or any other suitable genre.
At this very point in time, though, my immediate environment has a different plan in place for me.
To the right of me is a bed on which sleeps The Artist Formerly Known As an Eleven Year Old. Yup, its happy birthday time for my first born.
She’s been doing the countdown for the last one month. A whiteboard in the corridor is the platform for her daily declarations, new numbers (in descending order) coming up by the end of each evening. I am the envy of WorldCom as I fudge her figures regularly; my fatherly way of generating confusion.
She sent a mail yesterday in quote big, red, italicized, bold, capital letters unquote to her buddies outside this country reminding them of the day only second to Christmas in its sheer importance and majesty.
Last night, there were fireworks in the area; the local authority was celebrating a festival. We saw it as we were driving around. She thanked them profusely for this, their touching gesture as part of her birthday celebrations. The kid is nuts……….
Am interrupted by a rustling noise. A figure is sitting up in bed now. silhouetted against a curtain through which sunlight is streaming in gently, grinning the grin of a TWELVE year old. Noiselessly, she glides out of bed and rushes over to the whiteboard. I hear whiteboard markers squealing.
Last night, she went to sleep imagining how she would wake up and look at a new day and then, only after a few minutes , realize that it was her birthday. Little joys or cheap thrills? Guess am too cynical for my own good. Can’t remember the last time I looked forward to my birthday. Maybe there is something wrong with me.
She has just crept up and jumped me from behind with a hug of sorts and a little yelp of joy. I suppose its time for me to turn around and give her a hug and say ‘Happy Birthday, baby’. Yes, I still call her baby. Sue me.
Having done that, I think of the day ahead. Yes, its her day. Have to pick her friends up for a little domestic do that she is organizing and sponsor the proceedings too. Later in the day, she might spring up more things for her slave-of-the-day to do, who knows?
I grumble in public but am all soppy on the inside. She does have me around her little finger and milks it for all it is worth. Will end up obeying my master-of-the-day unquestioningly.
I have to. After all, like she says. ‘it IS my birthday’.
Happy birthday, dear. It continues to be fun knowing you.
C.
Beautiful…!
AWESOME DAD!!!!that seems to be the overiding opininon poll right now…Do agree with all y’r thoughts..however i beg to differ on the parent not looking forward to own b’day..nothing wrong about being concerned for the future of our li’l ones…and the less time we’ve something to do about it!!!!U’ve just joined the ever growing anxious parent club….it may affect the poll ratings though!!!:D
You are a cynic to start with but fortunately for all those around you, ends up as a perfect person with all elements of a sentimental human! The girl is twelve and she is celebrating is seen here with a bit of jealousy (thinking of his own young days, maybe) by the blogger, I must say. But overpowers that emotion to join the happiness towards the end.
Anyway its never late for anything and so please pass on our warmest greetings to your little big girl! God bless her.
@Baby, Aw come on, did it sound that bad ?
Am just thrilled with her growth yet, to echo A2, anxiety is kicking in too.
Will pass on your wishes to little Montana.
There is a pattern in most of the blogs here. I agree with Baby on that. The blogger is cynical/critical during the opening lines in most of his blogs, and then goes on to the subject with happy ending..
someone said, if you copy life as it is to art, why you need art? these days most people are penbend on making observations about the life around. but what you see around and how you see it makes the difference. critical observations are for those who think they know everything. but the blogger sees life on his walk to the bus stop, the way his little girl looks upto to the bday,in his frustration with his office auditors,… I like it. And he looks at these from different angles.
But please don’t try to be a successful writer, that will happen in due course if you carry on without expecting the results soon.
I’ve been enjoying these blogs. Please consider him as an ordinary guy trying to tell some events in his everyday life in an interesting way. Don’t you literature critics come in and try to spoil it.
C, this is a spectacular post…sniff…it warms the cockles of the heart, as my Granny wud say
And Happy Birthday B, God Bless you and your blog-writing, Scorpions-loving, Floyd-analysing, friend-to-weird-Canadians, masala-chai drinking Dad: I mean that in the fondest way!
More blogging please…thanks…
Dude, your granny seems to be my kinda lady………hmmm, guess a few years ago I would have balked at the statement, age and all that.
Now its a case of ‘what me worry?’
Will pass on the blessin to the not-so-little one !
every moment has its own uniqueness. as in the song ‘those were the best days of my life..’. Your baby will look back and sing the same and thats what will make you happy becoz you made it happen for her.
Vr Proud of you Mohammed
Very sweet…hope your little one continues to have you doting upon her