Coco and Dora move towards their individual corners glaring at each other.
My brother-in-law (pet-parent-in-chief) had just run in shouting and pulled them apart yet again.
The fact that they are currently sharing the same food and water bowls willingly seems to have diminished in the light of their obsession over the same pink kitty toy. Earlier today they had been touching noses and kneeding each other like dough, but it seems silly to remember such cute little things right now.
Coco sits in front of the bedroom door, blocking the entrance, while Dora sits in the money plant, claiming her throne. This is a battle of dominance. Their chests heave as my daughter gives each of them individual pep-talk before the next round.
Mentally, I can hear the gong and can almost see my daughter walk around with a board of round 9.
Suddenly, Dora spurts into a sprint, tags Coco full in face and launches herself in the bedroom behind her.
Coco lunges after her. They dole out punches after punches, kangaroo-style. Dora is only three months against Coco’s five. But she is not ready to back down. The room is completely devoid of any sound, save our breathing as the two cats take turns to jump on eachother from corners, pinning eachother.
One of them let’s out some kind of screech. Pet-parent-in-chief comes running back in, pulling them apart.
And forgets to remove the toy from vicinity. Sigh!
Author’s note: Our previous princess, Coco, had recently come home for a 4-day-and-night foster-visit and there was several battles of dominance in our house with our reigning princess, Dora. I was lucky to witness some, though missed filming them. May be I will get CCTV installed and start something like “Big Brother”.
Author’s note: All incidents in this story are real and told with the least possible artistic liberty as possible.
Why do they have to change the bowl again? The water tastes all wrong! I don’t understand all this craze about different coloured water bowls.
First, it was shiny silver. I hated it. It tasted too sparkly clean.
Then it was white and red. It didn’t taste anything like red, just plain white!
So, I drank from Dadi‘s foot tub. It tasted amazing with a green undertone! But then Dadi stopped leaving water in it. What is wrong with these humans?
That is when I moved to the bathroom floor. It has such an earthy smell, and the roughened tiles tickle my tongue. Initially, the humans tried to keep the doors closed. But I refused to drink anything at all.
Finally, a couple of them started letting me drink from the bathroom floor, throwing fresh water on the floor for me to drink when no one else was looking. The best part was that the water tasted different, based on the soap and shampoo they were using. They tried to scrub out the fragrance but couldn’t do it entirely. I was so happy!
But then, I think I went a bit too far.
You see, mom (my real mom who taught me all things worth knowing) once told us of the time she drank from the toilet–the devine taste, sense of adventure, the rush of adrenaline at having to drink upside down… Well, I thought the toilet was right there for the taking, so I did what any cat worth her mice would do–I tried to drink too.
Honestly, I only managed to get on the rim of the commode. I was peeking in, looking for a way to get to the water without getting soaked, but that dratted Tai Ammi caught me before I could reach the water. Didn’t even get a sip!
Now they have started locking up the bathroom door all the time! They also called me “Bad Kitty” for drinking from the toilet! I don’t call them “Bad Kitty” when they drink all the black and orange sparkly water that makes your tongue go all tingly! (Well, I had to try it, so I licked a couple of drops from the floor. Ugh!)
Well, why can’t they give me the same space!
Sigh! I don’t understand humans. There is water lying around everywhere, fragrant and calling, but they have to drink tasteless stuff from bottles!
Next, they got me a food tray with a large and flat water area (since I was drinking from the floor). As if I care about a bunch stupid cockroach-sized animals waving at me from my food plate! I couldn’t leave any food around, afraid they would steal it behind my back! So, I declined to drink from it too. They forced me but I was resolute.
And then the neighbours gave them a plant. Since they didn’t have a pot and earth for it ready yet, they planted it in the brown mug with water. God! I love this stuff! The plant makes it taste exotic. I couldn’t stop myself and just had to take another sip and another, until I was always going back for more. When the little one spotted me in the act and started giggling and complaining, I thought this was it–the humans would take away my private heaven. But they all just sighed and went back to work.
So, obviously, I thought I got away with it.
Boy, was I mistaken! A couple of hours later, they bought a red earthen pot for me to drink in. Well, it did recreate the earthy smell well, but it didn’t have the wonderful brown flavor to it like the mug–plant water does taste good. I would have turned vegan, had my constitution allowed. So, I continued sipping from the plant mug to make a point.
So today, they moved the plant into my earthen pot and gave me the mug to drink!
Blasted people! When will they ever learn?!
Psst… About the toilet water, may be, it is an age-restriction thing. I inspected the commode again and the bowl seems to be built deeper, so you have to have a longer neck to drink. May be, I will try again next month. If nothing else, I will jump straight in. I’m not afraid to get my feet wet in the face of an adventure!
Author’s note: There is no greater happiness than seeing your children happy. I asked my daughter–now 9- years old and a fast reader–to be my first audience. The way she guffawed while reading was worth all the effort.
My daughter started telling stories when she was three.
Most of it was reused, recycled and repurposed from the stories I had told her or what she saw on You Tube (Link to the proof: Plagiarism with Brains: Reuse, Recycle, Repurpose). She would add or changes animals in my animal stories and replaced mango with pumpkin in fairytales.
Yesterday, she wrote her first piece of poetry–on the fly and in 60-seconds flat. I actually had to ask her if she had taken ‘inspiration’ from someone. She claims she hadn’t.
Here is the piece. Before you ask, I have taken Your Highness’s permission.
Touch the sky,
Touch the sun,
Just go on and have fun.
You don’t know how long it will stay,
Or rather it will just go away.
I haven’t correct anything there. I had just asked her why she wanted to write game score on the diary I had given her to write poetry and stories in. So, she just took a pen and jotted these lines on the first page (rather the cardboard) of blank diary.
Now that she has a foot in the door, I can hope. I know, there is no guarantee that she would want to continue at all. But that’s life of a parent.
A month back, I and my 8-year-old daughter had a drawing competition. The challenge was paint a dog without looking at it. I asked her to allow me to look at a picture since I am not good at animal drawing.
At first, she was unwilling to bend rules since the whole point was painting by memory.
But after some negotiation (“I will not play with you anymore!”), I was allowed a brief look (“Okay, fine! But only 10 seconds!”).
I quickly pulled out a doggy pic from Google and concentrated at it for 10 second. My daughter counted seconds in the background, declining the offer to look at it herself (“I don’t cheat like you!”). Then the picture was closed.
It took me 10 minutes to draw the picture directly with sketch colours (since I was too busy to use pencil first. Here it is.
If you think it was cheap of me to force an 8-year-old girl to allow me to cheat during a competition, you should look at what she drew using just her memory.
There was no competition–She is a pro, I am still learning!
My daughter has done it again. She has surprised me and given me chance to showcase her creativity 😊. Sometimes I wonder if I am taking advantage of her creativity…that doesn’t stop me though 😁.
This time it is a doll dress👗. Lately my daughter has acquired three new dolls 🎎 and is facing a sudden dearth of dresses. She has recruited both me and her new aunt for dress designing and got 10 new dresses 💃👘👗 from her father but you know how a woman can never have too many clothes?!
And we have 6 dolls 💃💃💃💃💃💃here.
So, she has started helping herself. She created this one out of a shiny plastic balloon–the kind that doesn’t stretch–and cello tape. Can you believe it?
I love how she has created the complete diva look by sticking three pieces together. It would have taken me hours to create a body hugging dress. Add to it the accessories her father has got her!
I wonder if I should retire and let her take up dress designing for dolls🥰
I have a bone to pick with Leonardo da Vinci–why did he chose to present Monalisa in such a way: all black, pulled back hair, receding hairline, black veil?
Every time I see that portrait in a photo (I don’t have the money to go to France to see the painting in person.), I think of a new widow. The mysterious smile makes me wonder if she murdered her husband 🔪 and got away with it. The roaming eyes 👀 just add to the story, like she is watching everyone wondering when someone 🕵️♂️will figure it out.
Why couldn’t he have made her laughing like a real person. And he could have given her more hair! He knew enough art to pull that off without causing offence! My little maestro managed to create it in 5 seconds!
Of you wondering about mistaken identity, my daughter has assured me the this is The Monalisa (see hands). 😂
This painting is currently hanging in the bathroom of her newest little doll house, this time made of paper. Why bathroom? Because that was the only room with enough wall space. The little paper doll looks extremely comfortable showing us around all the rooms.
The house is 3D with a door 🚪that opens into the curtained room, with the bedroom on the other side. The doll can get inside the bed🛌, and the two-door almirah opens to show various dresses 👗👘💃which the doll can wear (my contribution is the kimono she is wearing).
The doll can slide inside the bath tub 🛀 and toilet 🚽 has a door for privacy 😁The dining room fridge is stacked with cakes 🎂 and icecreams 🍦and the wall cabinets 🗄️can be opened to put in stuff (I don’t think the doll has learnt cooking yet, so they are still empty.). She eats at the dining table after sliding comfortably in the chair🪑. She has also created a supermarket but it is not sufficiently stacked so retraining from sharing. So far, a satisfactory arrangement for a two-inch doll.
My daughter has done it again. She has amazed me with her idea and I couldn’t help but join her scheme. She has built a doll house for herself out of waste cardboard.
This one specially struck me because it looks so much like the wooden dollhouse I had loved so much. It is several stories high and, yet, it doesn’t take much space. She can simply put the lid on and slide it in a narrow space.
Note the kitchen at the bottom with open stove top and fridge. The bedroom has a 3D bed (my idea), a soft pillow and blanket. The 3D step ladder leads to a large bathroom with a toilet, bathtub and a 3D shower.
Another step ladder leads to working room with laptop and a playroom with a teddy bear and coconut tree (not sure why). The 3D stairs on the left is going up to the roof garden with miniature plants–which is my favourite place. The cardboard doll is happily sitting there among the plants.
Next to the stairs is the 3D almirah that holds dresses for the cardboard doll (my doll insisted on having a cardboard doll and cardboard detachable dresses).
So far, it is one of her best creations because it has a lot of 3D elements and because it has the potential to add so much more–door, windows, curtains, better toys, more cardboard dolls and their dresses.
The best part is that it makes my daughter proud. She lead this whole initiative. I did only bare minimum, doing as I was told. She has been bragging about it non-stop and it will push her to be even more resourceful in the future.
I found this torn cake recipe in the storeroom with my 8-year-old daughter’s stuff. Ever since she started “baking” cakes 🎂in her “oven” with paper ingredients , I have been wondering if she knew the actual recipe. 😁 Because I don’t!
Now I know that she does–in essence the recipe is correct, even if the quantities are rising by each element. 😁
I love the pictorial reference to each element, making the recipe universal. You don’t need to know English to read it. If you can decode it, you would know how to make a cake too…sort of… 😁
I was bad at Maths. It didn’t excite me as English and Hindi stories would. My parents tried to coach me, sent me to tution class and even got a private tutor at an exorbitant cost. I barely made it through Highschool Maths exam.
So, when my daughter was born, I decided to instill a love for Maths in her so that she wouldn’t face problems like I did. She loves stories. So I started telling her stories that required her solving Math problems. Say, if she is studying Addition and Subtraction, I tell her stories that have such problems. Recently, I told her stories involving money, time and metric measurement. And she must answer the problems before we can move ahead.
For example:
“Once there was a banana seller who was walking through the forest, he sat down beneath a tree to rest for a bit. But there were monkeys in that tree who started stealing his bananas.
When he woke up, he saw 9 monkeys 🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒 (not 10 so that it is difficult to count), each with 3 bananas 🍌🍌🍌 in hand and one 🍌 in their mouth. How many bananas did he lose?
3+1=4*9=36 😤
Poor man was aghast. Each banana was worth 7 rupees 💰 each. He would lose so much money. How money would he lose?
36*7=252 😱
So he decided to do a trick. He started monkey dancing, 🕺so monkeys 🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒would copy him.
Then, he picked up a banana 🍌 and threw it on the ground. All the monkeys threw bananas 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 🍌 in their hands on the ground. How many bananas are on the ground?
3*9=27+1=28 😄
He picked them up. But they were squished from falling on the ground, so they were useless to him 🥴. So how much money 💰 did he lose?
28*7? No ❓
36*7=252? No ❓
252 + 7 (his own banana)= 259! 🤓
So he picked up his remaining bananas and walked to the market. He had learnt his lesson and brought a wooden stick to ward off monkeys the next time.” 😂😂😂
By the time I am done, my daughter is happily exhausted and ready to sleep.
I always pick the chapter she is currently on and pull in as many calculations and logic as a story can hold without being overwhelming. It instills a deep love for calculations within her and inspite her creative streak, she excels in Maths, which is a logical subject.
For a change, even I am falling in love with Maths a little bit now.
Though I wonder how I am going to insert Sin-Cos into monkey, giraffe stories… 🤣🤣🤣
Lately, I have been working as a jewellery- and dress-designer for probably the richest doll on the Earth. She is the Barbie I gifted to my daughter last summer, she is named as Elsa (after the Disney princess, of course). Ever since then, I have been hard at making dresses suitable for her station in life.
Lately, my daughter requested my help for making jewellery for Lady Elsa based on her original designs.
Within a couple of hours, we had seven new sets of necklaces and earrings, along with a tiara, made out of buttons, fake pearls from my junk jewellery and metal wire, held together with a lot of love (because love is a magic and only magic can hold these fragile things together). That, of course, excludes the four previous jewellery sets that had been lost in the previous month.
My payment was ten-kisses-a-piece, which I consider quite generous.
It is rather nice working for those rich in love. :D
Short Stories 