Afternoon Siesta

It was a practice, and still is, to have a siesta in the afternoon. Children were usually put to bed with a stern warning that any interruption to sleep time would be hazardous to one’s backside. Such a warning would generally pass through unheard, unheeded and unthought of.

One afternoon, after a really tired morning, dad put us all to bed for a siesta. A stern warning was issued. Each of us silently vowed that we would not initiate a fight if the other behaved. The curtains were drawn, the room was dark and none of us could sleep despite the cool air tempting us. After half and hour of tossing and turning and hitting each other with paper planes, I sneak out and decide to turn on the TV at the lowest volume. Within a few minutes…. I was joined by the rest of the gang. All of us huddled together and sat close to the TV to watch the cartoons.

It is not in the nature of brothers and sisters to co-exist peacefully. As soon as the first cartoon was over, the boys wanted to see a robot cartoon and we girls wanted to see our favourite comedy. By then, my younger brother got hold of the remote and decided to watch Sesame Street which was clearly a baby show for the rest of us. A fight was in progress, three against one. Sofa cushions began to fly, chairs were jostled, my mother’s precious collectables became casualties to this Holy War and somewhere in between the running over and under the dinning table we all bump into dad.

Except for the TV….there was pin drop silence. Each of us looked dad and then at each other while thinking of an exit strategy. My dad looked like the rumbling Mount Olympus… someone has got to pay. His eyes were red and it looked like he had tried to pull out his hair. “ WHO?…” he asked …we didn’t wait for him to ask for a name, we began to point at the nearest person. Everyone was blaming the younger one and he was vehemently accusing each of us of provoking him in turn. Dad looked like he would explode. His face took to a darker shade of red. None of us saw it coming. In a second the TV stopped working and the main connecting cable laid in two pieces…. “No more TV. GO…TO…BED”  he roared. We scrammed for our dear life and burrowed ourselves in bed.

The next afternoon, after more tossing and turning I snuck out and turned on the radio. Though it had a bit of static, the station was clear if you turned it on a bit loud. Going off to the further end of the room, I sat down and tuned in to listen. Within a few minutes, the rest of the gang walked in and sat tapping their feet and listening. It was a lovely 15 minutes before the static started to interfere and I began to adjust the dials. Soon enough, battle lines were drawn and a fight broke out. Everyone felt that they personally could sort the static interference issue. After a bit of jostling, a few screams and jumping from sofa to sofa like Tarzan in the jungle, my brothers stopped mid way when they saw Dad. My sister and I were unaware and still busy holding up the cushions against the attack from the boys. The silence got us to cautiously lower our cushion guards. Lo behold! There stood dad with thunder in his face. He looked like a Volcano waiting to erupt. His hair stood up on its own on the top of his head. He had a cane on one hand and an expression that spoke volumes on the punishment yet to come. “What is going ON?”…

Each of us looked at the other. And then all hell broke loose. Each of us spoke louder than the other to explain how it was not our fault and how the other refused to keep quite. While speaking we were still yelling at the nearest person for not being quiet and for telling tales. One can only imagine the effect of the bickering on my dad. After loosing sleep twice in a row, my father was ready to blow and someone was at the receiving end. One moment he was angrily shouting and the next, the radio’s power cable went down the balcony into the crowded bushes below the 10th storey building. Each of us received a hot cane to the rear before he roared “No more RADIO. GO…TO…BED...” We scrammed for our dear life.

The third afternoon, we decide that it was just not in our system to go to sleep on a perfect afternoon. With the TV and Radio out of the picture, the only other thing that we could do was to play Antakshari. Careful to shut the door behind us to control the noise pollution, we began to sing in turns. All was fine until my youngest brother got bored and my sister decided to sing an English song. An argument broke out regarding the rules, a scuffle began, words and blows were exchanged and I was caught in between the cross fire. No amount of Shhhhhhh  helped. The coffee table was overturned, the vase with flowers was spilt and the jungle episode with Tarzan jumping over the pricy sofas continued until a loud roar stopped us to our tracks. Dad had woken up. This time, we were in this for good.

Dad looked utterly defeated with bags under his eyes; unshaved stubbles dotting his jaw and hair sticking out like static electricity had fun with it. Mum stood groggily at his side trying to focus on the issue at hand….US. Something had to be done. We froze. My poor father was utterly exhausted and he literally gave up trying to make us sleep.

Handing over a TV cable he said, “Watch TV…” and went back to bed …this time with some ear plugs on…

The family.  We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another’s desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.  ~Erma Bombeck

Anney Thomas

Born and brought up in Abu Dhabi and roots in India, Anney has a streak of funny genes that could make you forget day’s tension. She has reinvented her writing passion and is here to delight us with her flavour.

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Tags: family, family bond, fun, funny incidents, Life, musings

This entry was posted on April 13, 2010 at 8:00 am and is filed under Anney's Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.