I've begun to believe that I don't need external influences for my writing, when the internal ones are downright amusing. What better topic, really, than my own family! They're hilarious, lovable (once they grow on you) and quite fun to watch. So without further ado, I'm going to start a series of descriptive essays on none other than my family. Fair warning though, this will be in random order, so don't expect any form of continuity from one post to the other. The only continuous thread tacking everything together will be the fact that every member is related to me. Happy Reading and please do share along.
Trotting about with his round head held high, my two year old imp of a baby brother brings a delightfully mischievous aura into every room he steps into. Swinging only his left arm as he walks, he can give you the most charming of smiles, with his chipped upper incisor gleaming brightly, to make your anger not only subside, but completely vanish when he has been up to something destructive. His bright red lips seem to reflect the inner workings of his little mind, sometimes pursing and blowing only air out in his version of a whistle and sometimes opening wide and screaming for no apparent reason. His unnatural fear of ants, no matter what the size, colour or amount of life left in them, has proven to be a blessing to his mother and mine. "Suraj! Don't touch that!" makes no difference to him unless it has the word 'oombu' somewhere in the sentence. So now, for all intents and purposes, if he has to be punished or chastised for being a 'bad paapaa', we threaten him with an ant. However, if he's in a particularly stubborn mood, his podgy, caterpillar-sized fingers will clench into a fist while his peanut sized index finger will point indignantly at you and firmly proclaim "NO!". So much for obedience.
My baby brother can be quite demanding if he's hungry; and persistent at that. Rather than screaming for his milk (shrieking 'NANO' a few times just won't cut it for him), he rather chooses to wail and whimper for his 'Nano', as if we've been starving him, torturously so, for weeks. You would think that despite his maddening mischief; running through a list of things to pull down, urinate on, bite through (he has a preference for human flesh), whack, clang together and so on, all in the span of a mere 4 hours, we'd be a little more stringent with him. Alas, all thoughts of curbing his enthusiasm fly straight out the window when he sends you a kiss flying from cherubic little face, straight through your heart.
Trotting about with his round head held high, my two year old imp of a baby brother brings a delightfully mischievous aura into every room he steps into. Swinging only his left arm as he walks, he can give you the most charming of smiles, with his chipped upper incisor gleaming brightly, to make your anger not only subside, but completely vanish when he has been up to something destructive. His bright red lips seem to reflect the inner workings of his little mind, sometimes pursing and blowing only air out in his version of a whistle and sometimes opening wide and screaming for no apparent reason. His unnatural fear of ants, no matter what the size, colour or amount of life left in them, has proven to be a blessing to his mother and mine. "Suraj! Don't touch that!" makes no difference to him unless it has the word 'oombu' somewhere in the sentence. So now, for all intents and purposes, if he has to be punished or chastised for being a 'bad paapaa', we threaten him with an ant. However, if he's in a particularly stubborn mood, his podgy, caterpillar-sized fingers will clench into a fist while his peanut sized index finger will point indignantly at you and firmly proclaim "NO!". So much for obedience.
My baby brother can be quite demanding if he's hungry; and persistent at that. Rather than screaming for his milk (shrieking 'NANO' a few times just won't cut it for him), he rather chooses to wail and whimper for his 'Nano', as if we've been starving him, torturously so, for weeks. You would think that despite his maddening mischief; running through a list of things to pull down, urinate on, bite through (he has a preference for human flesh), whack, clang together and so on, all in the span of a mere 4 hours, we'd be a little more stringent with him. Alas, all thoughts of curbing his enthusiasm fly straight out the window when he sends you a kiss flying from cherubic little face, straight through your heart.
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