Last weekend, I had the
opportunity to visit my friend along with my wife. He had been calling me for a
while to discuss some topics of common interest and so I found time for this,
keeping aside my other weekend occupations. It was a good feeling to meet his family
and his old parents. My wife had found time to talk to my friend’s wife after a
long time, although they were school mates. I spent some time discussing our
topics, one to one with my friend and then spent the rest talking to his
father. My friend’s sister was there too along with her two sons. They had come
down from Delhi to spend their holidays here. I shook hands with the boys and
gave them warm hugs.
Both my friend and I were talking softly as we would do unless something put us into a tight spot. His father too was a soft spoken soul. I could hear the voices of the women talking. They were certainly much louder than the men but it sounded fine. But a few sounds were not bearable and were almost getting on my nerves more because I often found it difficult to remain calm in a noisy environment. There was a construction in process on the opposite side of the house and the abrasive metal grinding wheel was giving out its own distinct fired up cry. Two black ravens on a tree close to the window where we sat were desperately cawing taking turns as though practicing for a church cantata. A mobile tomato vendor found the tree next to the house window, a nice place to halt and sell his stuff, while his announcing system was dishing out repeatedly “Grab your tomatoes for a good price”. And if all this was not enough, the two little boys, my friend’s nephews, were creating a ruckus while grabbing and chasing each other while running around in the hall, all through spaces between the furniture and between where we sat.
Both my friend and I were talking softly as we would do unless something put us into a tight spot. His father too was a soft spoken soul. I could hear the voices of the women talking. They were certainly much louder than the men but it sounded fine. But a few sounds were not bearable and were almost getting on my nerves more because I often found it difficult to remain calm in a noisy environment. There was a construction in process on the opposite side of the house and the abrasive metal grinding wheel was giving out its own distinct fired up cry. Two black ravens on a tree close to the window where we sat were desperately cawing taking turns as though practicing for a church cantata. A mobile tomato vendor found the tree next to the house window, a nice place to halt and sell his stuff, while his announcing system was dishing out repeatedly “Grab your tomatoes for a good price”. And if all this was not enough, the two little boys, my friend’s nephews, were creating a ruckus while grabbing and chasing each other while running around in the hall, all through spaces between the furniture and between where we sat.
I wanted to tell them to stay quiet as the overall cacophony was getting unbearable. My wife looked at me once a while with a smile, as she knew how I would take this. But the people at home were trying their best I think, although it appeared to me that there was not much they could do. “Hey devils, can u keep quiet?” was what I heard their mother shouting. Every person there took turns to give a rap on the backs of the boys as they ran past them. This was now becoming continuous and to me the family members appeared like a set of IPL cricket batsmen, swinging on all sides trying out different shots. Sometimes the raps were loud, but to me it seemed that all these were just giving them more energy for what they were doing. “It’s ok, children are like that always”, I politely compensated as a guest with a dash of love.
Moments later, I also thought that I should contribute to the chiding. But how could I? So I smiled and waved to one of the boys and he immediately stopped running and froze, possibly because he never thought that I would wave at him while the others were dishing out punishments. I took aim at him with my palm as though it was a pistol and then shook it once as though to communicate that I had shot him. He was quick and played the cricketing cut shot on the invisible bullet that came to him. And where did the bullet go now? Straight on to his grandpa sitting on his right. The boy was smart and after seeing the invisible bullet hit his grandpa, he quickly turned to me and bought up his right palm and covered his mouth in exclamation and looked at me :))
Now that communication was a question to me “Hey, you know what you have done?” :))
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