English at home

This time we had to write a story based on the 5 gibberish words:

Florple,Draemol,Grimble,Strawp,Plarft

English at home

“Mum… Mum… Mum… Help me finish my English assignment”, Josh, hopped in front of me (actually between me and my beloved TV) and said.

“What help do you need?”

“I have to invent 5 new words and provide meanings to them tomorrow in class. I can’t let Ryan score again, please help”, couldn’t help smiling for that. But seriously, inventing words...

“Just put some letters together. Why do you need my help for that? I asked.

“Mum… the words have to be authentic”, he said excitedly.

I smiled at him, tilted my head leftwards to catch a little of TV. He blocked my view. I tilted right, blocked again. Why does he have to be so stubborn? Well, I’m his mother.

“I can’t. I’m busy”.

“Florple”, he mumbled.

“What”?

“Florple. Thinks only about oneself, even if someone near needs their help”, he explained.

“Excuse me!!!.... I… Let me guess, you thought of me, while inventing that word.”

“Not excused and yes, I thought of you. You form the best example!! You are watching TV instead of helping me”. I tried to defend.

“Fine!” I snapped. “We’ll make a deal. We work together to find these words and their meaning. Whoever gets to the 5^th word first, will get their wish granted. Deal?” I asked.

He thought for a while. It had no “visible” loopholes, so he agreed.

 “So, your first word is… “

“florple”

“Right. And, your next word will be….. Grimble. It means… multitasking. Like, I’ll make coffee and still assist you in your homework”.

He gave a wide smile and said, “Nice……..”

I rolled my eyes and went to the kitchen to get some coffee. Josh would come up with few jumbled letters. 

Few he would reject, the rest I.I grabbed a tray, put few snacks on it, placed the two coffee cups and carried them to the hall. But it wasn’t our hall anymore. Josh had spread books, laptop... papers all over the floor.

“What are you doing?... draemolling this place???”

He looked up, confused. I signaled towards the scattered mess.

“These are just for reference... Mum… I need to invent words, not write them. And what did you call this?”

“Draemol… litter a place.” I replied.

He tried few more words. I rejected all of them. He creased his eyebrows, and said” Strawp”.

“And what does that mean?”

“It means modifying your opponent’s thoughts to make them loose.” he explained. How was he able to catch that? I put a poker face and tried to defend, but he cut in.

“Yes. I’m taking you as example”. I had to shut after that. He invented a few more, but rejected them instantly.

“Apart from Strawpping, can you do anything?” I asked.

“What?” Again, I showed the mess.

“Mum... I’ll clean it after I’ve finished my homework, and by the way, its draemol not Strawp”.

“Grimble!!... I’m missing my show” I murmured.

“Mum… you are supposed to help, not confuse. And for your information, its florple”, he said in an irritated voice.

“I’m not!! See, florple – cheater, grimble- multitasking, draemol- selfish, and …Ah!yes, Strawp –litterring”.

Josh screamed, “Mum….

Florple – Selfish

Grimble- Multitasking

Draemol – Litter

Strawp – Manipulating your opponents mind!”

There!!! My work was done. My son had invented five new words and also remembered their meaning!! Else it would be T.A. Edison inventing the light bulb, but not knowing where to plug it in.

“Plarft”, I said proudly. “Plarft - We have a winner”. Feeling proud, he noted down the last word.

Well, we did have a winner. I invented the last word…

On the other side of the Glass

On the other side of the Glass

Traffic jams in urban cities are the most dreadful things, especially when you are running late. But, these jams narrate their own story, and this is one such story.

On a very normal day, sitting in the passenger seat of a very ordinary cab, reading a historical novel, I was waiting for the hideous traffic to get cleared up. Finished a page... finished 2 pages... Finished 5 pages… I had barely moved 5 inches!!

Frustrated I looked out. Cars, honking two-wheelers, trucks… there was no end. I sighed. Disapproving, I went back to my reading. Soon afterwards, I heard a soft tap on my window. A woman was standing outside my taxi asking for money. But I saw, a woman not asking for money, but a helpless person, humbled down by the cruelness of fate, scarce of hope. I took few notes from my purse and gave it to her. It put a smile to her face.

Next day, I got stuck in the same traffic. I opened my book and started reading. A rap woke me up from my reverie. The same woman was standing outside. I pulled a little money from my purse and gave it to her. But she returned it and left. Confused, I called her. She obediently came.

“Why did you return the money?” I asked.

“I had taken the money from you yesterday also, Madam. I can’t take it today too”, was her reply.

“Why not?”

“Yesterday you lent me money, because I had asked you to. But today, you are lending because, you are feeling pity”

My first thought was of disapproval. But then, what did I feel for her? Why was I giving her money? If it wasn’t pity, then what else? I was left without words.

Every few days, when we met, she would wave a soft “hello”. On one such day, when she passed by, I called her and gave her a few loaves of bread. She hesitated, but I insisted. She took with the big expression of gratitude on her face.

At the beginning of this story, I said traffic jams were dreadful. I take it back. It’s unbearable, especially when the skies decide to give you a shower. I wanted to reach office early, but now, I was running late and the icing on the cake formed the heavy downpour and my umbrella, safely resting in my house. I decided to call my supervisor, when, I heard a sharp rap on the window. I looked up, to see the excited face of my new friend. She was carrying a child.

“This is my baby son. I wanted him to see you”, she said in ecstatic voice.

The little boy was peering through the foggy window, trying to locate my face.

I rolled down the window and waved. He turned and hugged his mom. She laughed.

”Where are your friends? How come you are not with them?” I teased him.

The mother answered. “He doesn't have any friend’s madam. He will be with me most of the time, while I roam asking people for money”.

“But in this weather?”

‘It’s fine madam. We never have the privilege of having an umbrella over our heads”, she said.

The signal turned green and my taxi started to move. Both the mother and her boy waved goodbye.

Life is really not the same as read in historical novels.

It is strange though, all this time, when she wanted money, I had them. But today, she was in need of an umbrella and I didn't have.