Amusing babies

Recently I discovered how much I am inept in handling babies. My nephew was born a few months back, so I paid him a surprise visit. Much to my surprise I was struck by the reality that babies are pretty annoying. They can be unpredictable. They can be noisy. Apart from the heart warming smile there is nothing in a baby that excites me.

A trend that is emerging amongst today’s parents is – naming the baby with some really innovative names. My nephew is named Krevi. It took me 4 repetitions to get the pronunciation right. Obviously my brother and his wife were giving me tough looks by this time. The baby was calmly resting on my brother’s lap. And to smoothen the air around, my brother got up to hand the baby over to me. BAD MOVE !! My head started ringing with sirens saying “Mission abort. I repeat. Please return. I repeat”. Alas!

Now a beautiful thing about babies is that they need entertainment of the most weird sorts. They will keep staring you until they are fulfilled else they will rain their eyes out. The irony is that when they cry, their isn’t a single drop of tear. Krevi is now on my lap. I thought the best way to keep him quite would be to lay him flat. The baby in anyone else’s lap would have laid like a gentlemen from Mannersland. Though in my lap he thought of being creative. I am deep into an awkward uneasy zone where everyone wants to check by baby handling prowess. Only to see me fail.

Babies look good in Television, Movies or in some one else’s lap. Its like babies should be printed with a signal KEEP DISTANCE. Not everyone might agree with me. Especially my mother who has some divine powers that could silence any crying and make him/her smile too. No wonder, she tamed me now she can do anything. I would not go as far as saying that I hate babies. Its just that I am too conscious that they might cry or worse wet their undies.

One thing is very clear that children evoke great emotions in everyone. Something which I could relate with two incidents which shook the world across. One was much talked about where the images of Aylan Kurdi, a 3 year old kid trying to escape from refugee camps to safer areas lying dead on a secluded Mediterranean Sea. The image floated all over the Internet and instantly humanity started pouring into people. Countries who were reluctant to attend to refugees now opened their arms to welcome them. The second one is a news much closer to our nation – from Kashmir. The story of Burhan Bashir Bhat, another 3 year old shot dead along with his father an alleged militant. The flipside is that this news never brought the furore it should have brought. Kashmir was crying its heart out at the brutality of men donning the cloak of bringing peace. But everyone else untouched. Media too carefully sidelines itself from news from the valley. And subsequently the news along with the wailing shrieks died. Unlike Europe, India still is unaffected and chooses to play this event down. Even if there are any active steps taken they are not showing positive results.

I might be a little late in bringing out this article. Yet I thought to myself a pressing question of why shouldn’t this baby get the much needed attention ?

Hopefully he does. RIP Aylan and Burhan.

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Worst Heart Break

So I am no love guru. And if you thought this post is all about my experience on break ups I’d be happy to disappoint you. This piece is something more serious and dreadful than a break up. I happen to encounter this incident a few days ago in Metro and I had an instant heartache.

It was a usual morning. Sunny day, children with their bags, grown ups with their suitcases readying up for the day. As a child, this moment used to be the hardest for me to leave my beloved home for the atrocious school. Later college changed this mindset, of late office seemed to have revived that vibe again (Hi Boss I know you are reading this).  Meanwhile I am standing at one of the Metro Stations to board a Metro to my office. I see hordes of corporate junkies around me. These people know the exact time when a Metro arrives , even when the metro is running late (they seem to have an organized network i suppose). And then there are the pretty ladies straight out from a fresh bath queuing up with their wet hair . Everything seems so clockwork. The metro arrives and the amazing race to snatch a seat begins as if it is the throne of the seven kingdoms (Game of thrones fans might relate). I have over the course of time left it to Gods above to find me a seat. But there are many who know that “Bhagwan ke bharose mat baitho kya pata bhagwan aapke bharose baitha ho” (read as Atheism rules).

Now the deadly sin is about to take place. One such lady packed with all sizes of bags trips and spills the food packed in one of those millions bags on to the floor. There you go !! I see 2 hearts instantly broken. One who got up while the alarms clock thought its still night and put in all sweat to cook the food in time. And the second is obviously the one who would have had the privilege to eat it. The misery does not end there because now she does not have anything to eat. Along with that she has to see the spilled food like a funeral of a close one. To add to that the knowledgeable crowd now has all sorts of advice, judgment ready as if they were waiting for anything like this to happen. Sympathy is pouring in from all heavens. The whole coach feels obligated to the wretched who packed the food and wants to mourn this unfortunate incident. I am reading my newspaper and feeling sorry for the food. Cause food surpasses any love story and any break up. It needs no affection it needs a good connoisseur.It satisfies your needs as well as makes you forget all misdeeds.

The lady gets down on the next station. The people are back to their business. And I am recovering from the heartache trying to console myself its the food and not the feeling that office is here.