Friday, 23 November 2012

Cloud Watching

If I'm a dreamer, then my parents are the only ones to blame - they let me be.

In fact, most of the times they have been proud of my ability to be distracted. I was distracted most of the time in school only interested in extra reading material and my folks never bothered much. They were OK with my average performance in the report cards and never grumbled to shell out extra to pay for the comics, magazines and books and were rather proud of my thick soda glasses.

I was always distracted when walking on the roads or would start a project and leave it mid-way to do something else. They never said a word. Rather they used to point my madness out to their friends as if I was some genius in the making.

Therefore, I'm still easily distracted and lost in my own world most of the time.

My dad too was a very distracted person. He still is and a superb human being that makes him because he can seldom remember if someone had been harsh to him and could never be rude to anyone. He was always the perfect gentleman and yes, very much a ladies man all through his life. He was the best daddy a girl could have because he never said no when I asked for a comic or a book. He used to bring me gifts from far off places where he'd go touring and never said a word if I did not get great marks at the end of the year. I remember once he told a teacher at a PTA even before she could open her mouth that he was proud of me! Needless to say, my teachers used to ask me to get ma whenever they wanted to do some serious cribbing.

My ma is the prototype of a sacrificing mom that often drives me up the walls she is everything a TV mom usually is. But, though she was strict about many things it never did bother me because I was mostly happy sitting in one corner of the house or terrace reading  book or watching the sky. She was a teacher and strictly believed in the adage that all kids are born with equal amount of brains but, need to be guided towards what they enjoy doing. All I loved doing was read and paint or draw. She hardly complained.

I loved watching clouds with my dad. We'd play this game called, "can you see what I see?" One of us would call out describing a cloud shaped a certain way and describe it in one word shouting (for example), "I can see an old man bending over a small boy can you see them?" The others would have to scan the sky and point out the tableaux before it melted away.

We spent many pleasant hours doing this, I my sister, sometimes some visiting cousins and dad. Lying flat on our backs on string beds in the terrace, staring at the sky and looking at floating clouds. Sometimes, especially in winters, we'd go to sleep playing the game and would be woken up and shooed away by ma.

As a dreamer I'm usually happy in most circumstances. If things go really bad I always start imagining how good it would be one day.

It helps me enjoy a life of solitude as much as I enjoy company. I have often seen kids who are 'sensitive' being pushed into the 'mainstream' by their parents and mentors. I am glad that I was not. It gave me a distinct personality and best of all I'm never ever bored.

And yes, I still play Cloud Watching with my daddy.

The wiley fox eyes the pigeon
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