Reality Bites

These are radical days. Tumultuous. Revolutionary. Air waves have changed forever the way we lived our lives and would continue for days to come. Have a look at my weekend routines and you would know.

I wake up at exactly 6.25 AM since that’s the mahurat, that my wife sees appropriate for her morning labors. She says, Anna says that one must go through his/her morning regimen and she would need to practice the latest moves that Yousuf has prescribed. I have started sleeping on a mattress on the floor since my window facing master bed is gone and the space is now being adorned by a monstrous treadmill, gunning hungrily at my pocket and my wife’s waistline. After lot of rationalization I have given up explaining to her that unlike the fact that haar ke jeetne wale ko baazigar kehte hain, biggest loser kabhi jeet ta nahi, wo biggest loser hi rehte hain (look at me for illustration).

At the car park below, my son has rallied support and created a coterie of gyrating teenagers. They have a spark within themselves which has made them believe that they are the next champs for Boogie Woogie. Although, I have tried quite a number of times to make them understand that a proper education would come in handy in future, I have been made to understand that the ambrosia for a hugely successful career would depend upon such extra curricular participation other than regular academia and the popular one is the better. And hence, one must make proper usage of all vacations for such creative pursuits, especially when God himself has put in so much talent in each of them not just to drain it all away in waster. My contribution, a truck load of CDs for all genres, a hi-fi music system, and an arbitrator for irritant neighbors.

My happy family has been made complete with my cherubic ten year old daughter. At the advise of my brother residing in some corny neighborhood in far flung US, and probably inspired by the new found success of Indians at the National Spelling Bee Championships, I asked her if she would mind learning new words from the new Oxford dictionary that I had bought her for her birthday, five everyday. “Where’s the time dad?” which leaves me a bit bewildered. And then she confides that she has been taking three music lessons for the past couple of weeks, one for Hindustani Classical, one for modern and cabaret genres and the other being western classical. Although I agree that her persistence does please me, but three in one day, seven days a week is a bit too much for a ten year old. “Oh no dad,” she clears the confusion, “it’s very simple, next year I would like to participate as little champions for all the music reality shows that are on offer. The opportunity is up for grabs, just for you to take it.” I nod in consent.

So dinner is never before 11 in the night. After we are finished with the Biggest Losers, the Boogie Woogies and all the musical shows. And what more, they have each other for support. So when Team Red has its least weight losing member, a cute little monster of 110 kgs being eliminated after some tactical maneuvers my son hugs and consoles her mother. And his mother returns favors when his steps do not match those on screen by some baldy judge on boogie woogie. Not to mention of the huge talent that our country boasts of in the numerous musical talent hunt shows where all composers and playback singers seem to have nothing more other than guide and judge. How selfless and sacrificial of them.

So as I switch off the All India Radio news and turn to my Businessworld, my angelic son snugs in around me followed by the mother and the sister. (These are dangerous times).
Son: “How reticent and adjusting you are always?”
Me: Grin. Something is cooking.

Mother, Son, Daughter: Agle saal aap Big Boss mein try kyun nahi karte. Aap itne chupchap rehte ho, kahin pe hi adjust karloge... ap ko mote gainde kahenge tab bhi ap awaz nahi uthaoge just like Shilpa... Sure winner... zarur jeetoge. Its the Indian version of the Big Brother.....(Everything seem to pale in the background)

I want to immerse myself in the magazine.