
The Olympics are over. We can now focus on more important things like Mamata Banerjee. However as the Olympics came to a grinding halt with India covered in the glory of three medals and plenty of shopping (apparently Indian goods in China are far cheaper and durable), my son had to face an Olympic obstacle of his own, an injection.
It wasn’t an ordinary injection (although I could never tell what an ordinary injection is because I normally pass out well before the actual injection is administered).
This time it was a large cannon disguised as an injection. How did I know it was a cannon? Well, primarily because it needed 17 people to operate it. Needless to say that the injection was administered in the upper right thigh. When I was revived, I found that my son had been exchanged. In his place stood the great Chagatay Tatar King Timur-Hung known to history as Temur the lame or Aamir Temur or simply Tem-Tem as his mom like to call him — after watching Temur limp all over the place clutching his wounded thigh, the wife ordered me to cheer him up with the right kind of diversion.
This I normally did by wearing one of his wife’s sarees and dancing to my version of the can-can. On this occasion, I was told to take the young conqueror to a place called the bowling company! This turned out to be a paradox in terms.
You see bowling is only fun if you have no company. Otherwise wizened teenagers, veterans at holding balls, can laugh themselves silly, watching you try to disassociate yourself from the ball, at the time of actually bowling.
Poor Temur also had a couple of problems for one, the ball wasbigger than him and secondly, his father had become one with a ball and it took 45 minutes and 14 pairs of hands to separate the father from the ball. Finally, unable to get ball make contact with the pins, Temur and I walked upto the pins and dropped them off the old-fashioned way that is manually.
The result? We are not considered the right company by the management and so it’s back to the saree and the can can.
