Friday, November 17, 2006


G wants wings so she can fly. Green wings (Environmentalist, that she already is), to be precise. This emanated from a conversation that went something like this:

“Mumma, see mermaid" (pointing to its picture on her fancy glass).

I smile and give a pseudo-excited look with a ‘Hmm’ while trying to shove a spoonful into her mouth.

“Mermaids fly in the water?” (never imagined, but worth a thought now)

“No, Baby, they swim under water.”

“Then, only birds fly?”

With a ear-to-ear grin, I say “Yeesss”. (Hoping I had sealed the Q&A session and could get on with the never-ending dinner.)

“Why do they fly?” (Oh no!)

“Because they have wings.” Then a quick quiz, “What else can fly? Tell me, tell me.”

“Plane (With a very distinct Duh, Mumma! look). You can also fly, Mumma?”

“No, I don’t have wings.”

“Why don’t you have wings?”

(Err ummm…) "Because God didn’t give me." (Ok, P, gerrout of the Standard mode and get a wee bit more creative now, willya?) I need to be very careful what I tell G, because, the Resident Lawyer decides to catch us off-guard and cross check every once in a while on certain circumstantial arguments provided to her. And the midget has an elephantine memory. So God help you if you retract or tweak your arguments.

G, very authoritatively, “Tell God to give you wings and me also(sic). OK? I want green wings. You get blue and Puppa will take red! OK?" (shaking the index finger at me)

"OK, Dahlin'!"

Wings in myriad hues to take us all where we want to go. How I wish, such wishes were granted. Philosophy was never my cuppa, so instead of indulging in it, I’ve been wondering how to grant G her wish, indulgent Mom that I am. The first thought was to call the Fleeting Fairy for a solution. But she has exams and papers to deal with. Then I considered my very own, 911, the Lilting Lark. But she, I thought would be busy making pasta or solving her anagrams. So wracked my utterly non-creative, useless brain for a change. But alas! I don’t have a green dupatta to make-do with. (Digression: In fact, my wardrobe is devoid of green. I hate the colour as much as I hate the smell of a rose.) So for now, I settle on the wings of poesy (the oft-recited nursery rhymes) and take her on flights of fancy either on Alladin’s magic carpet or on the Prince’s pristine white horseback.

Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax are waiting in the wings with the broomsticks.

(P.S.: I just realised, our blogs are becoming very incestuous)


Lalita Mukherjea said...

I used to have this huge Dungeons and Dragons kind of adventure/quest/heroic fantasy tale I used to feed to my son along with his dinner. Each mouthful a cliffhanger and all that. He'd say, and then? I'd say I'll tell you tomorrow. That was a marvellous story I told him, I tell you. I wish I wrote it down. Quests and stricken princesses and scheming generals of army and a grieving king, not to mention a brave commoner who saves the day.

But tell G that God gave us wings of thought and intellect. That is a precious enough gift.

Anonymous said...

I kind of like the idea of blue & green wings, soft color & glowing...not the red wing though
get her a fairy outfit ...

Anonymous said...

Don't know if this will help, but last time I was in boiled bean land, I saw a shop on Brigade road which sold wings (strapped on like a parachute). I asked the shopkeeper who bought such things, but the guy was too busy selling pokemon stuff to a plump lady and ignored me (I was obviously window shopping).
Don't remember if it was green though. And don't forget the No-Fly Zone

Rimi said...

I love the incestuous bit but :-) And your daughter sounds like a total doll!

But you hate green? Ki kando. I love green. I'm currently trying to update my wardrobe with less pinks and peaches and more green. You're right about roses though. Especially red ones. Hate 'em.