The struggle of two three-year-olds against the injustice of being packed off to school to become scholars.
Morning Meanderings is a musings column by Dr Santosh Bakaya. Enjoy her jottings with a hot cup of tea. 🙂
After the intermittent rains, the temperature had again plummeted, and a waft of breeze welcomed me as I stepped out of the house, so did a troika of pups. They greeted me with excited yelps, a bulbul went into a string of happy tweets and the telephone wires started shaking with their exuberance. I was face to face with the teeming, shouting, swirling, whirling world which I love so much, unfurling outside.
A motorcycle rattled past, with a familiar looking person riding it. Yes, you have guessed it right. It was the obstinate milkman, with his nose high up in the air. He raced past me, honking away like a soul in torment, in the bargain, barely an inch past a couple of kids going to school.
“I am not going to school,” screamed one three-year-old glaring at his mother.
“Me too,” screeched his twin hurling away his satchel.
Then both threw themselves at their mother with more squeals and screams, each clinging to his share of the mother’s ample waist, to show their twin discomfort.
“Let go off me, will you?” she said through clenched teeth, casting disconcerted looks around.
“No, I will not,” said one, and tried to bite off a big chunk of her left hand.
Not to be left behind, the other twin tried to bite off a bigger chunk from her right hand.
They were fighting against injustice, with a revolutionary fervor. It was sheer injustice to send three-year-olds to school. The skies would not come crashing down if they metamorphosed into scholars a year later, was their unuttered argument.
The terrific twosome now danced around their mother, while she tried hard to keep an I-don’t-know-you-guys look on her face, despite being pulled in all directions.
Then came the father on the scene, and now the twins cannoned towards him, and all but threw him on the ground with little yelps and yells.
“I want a chocolate,” said one, trying his best to make it sound like a wail.
“Me too,” chirped the second.
“Chocolate, chocolate,” now became the rallying cry as the terrific twosome relentlessly blackmailed the parents, faces suffused with a cherubic innocence.
A sheepish looking father ran into the house, came back with two huge bars of chocolate. With two triumphant hoops of joy, the boys snatched the chocolates, flung themselves on the father’s shoulders and were happily led towards the honking school bus, chocolates in hands. The other kids in the bus clapped, the driver smiled an expansive smile, and the parents waved happily as the bus moved forward with its load of chattering kids on the road to becoming scholars.
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