Is Singh King?

The brat didnt think so. It had been a tiring day for him. We'd just returned from a half day shopping escapade at the Oberoi Mall in Goregaon East, which had worn him out to bits, making him cranky and feverish. No not Mamma, this time it was the sister in law who'd come down to Mumbai for Raksha Bandhan and was skipping at the thought of entire malls on sale. And as it happens when his body temperature goes even one micro-degree above 98.6, Mamma goes into red alert panic zone, becoming like an army sargeant, barking orders left right and centre, expecting lifts zooming up and down to her convenience, and hopping from foot to foot if delayed for a millisecond. In this brilliant mood, Mamma spots Parul with a very content and sated Adi, standing near the food court, debating no doubt, what to eat. As Parul would unhesitatingly admit herself. I like this girl. She loves her food. I have a soft corner for women who unabashedly confess to enjoying a good meal. Gluttony loves company. But I digress. Pleasantries were exchanged, but the brat kept whining in Mamma's ear like an irritant mosquito, "Ghar chalo, ghar chalo." He was really feeling unwell, Mamma concluded, to not want to be social.
So we had fled home, smashed anticonvulsant with car tool box screwdriver and pummelled it to powder in car in the folded parking ticket and made the brat down it with water. And picked up a Crocin syrup from a chemist and force fed him the requisite dosage. And Mamma being Mamma, took out all the handkerchiefs and napkins from sundry bags and doused them in water and began application to extremities.
A very wet and irate brat reached home full of bitter complaints about his mistreatment at the hands of frantic mamma. Pappa, who was home, this being Saturday, listened patiently. The biggest whine of all, in the frenzy to get home, we'd left behind his Joker. Not any ordinary joker. The Joker action figure from the Batman movie. Pappa placated him and promised him another joker. Brat threw me glances that could kill. Glances that if they could be translated appropriately, would be on the lines of the stuff Western movies have when they get to the point of guns at dawn. Pappa being Pappa, got into mega pampering mode as he always does when brat gets down with a fever.
But we had tickets. To Singh is King. And we'd paid through our nose for them. Come on. I mean. Six people on those tickets could feed a family on the street for a week. Ugghhhh. Mamma feels around two feet tall thinking that, so did we want to skip the movie. Mamma was all for staying back at home, seeing as to fever and possible scariness of eventualities with fever when it comes to the brat. But the brat had other plans. The moment he was feeling half way better he trotted to the cupboard and took out his clothes du jour. Ben 10 tshirt and Spiderman bermudas. "Mamma, lesh get ready fer d muvee."
Indulgent Pappa brought forth brilliant arguing skills that have hitherto always been hidden, and put forth the sensible points. "I am going for the movie. I drive. You dont. So if anything does happen, he'd be better off with me around. And take along the medicine and water and napkins if he does get feverish again. And the theatre is next door. Better he stays entertained than stay put at home making himself and everyone else miserable."
Mamma has no arguing skills, so she picked up brat and stood in line. Yup we were a huge group.
The movie? Lets just say, we walked out before the interval, and didnt regret it one bit. Only regretted the waste of money. Could have taken the kid for Kungfu Panda which he would have enjoyed better or even The Dark Knight, which Mamma would have enjoyed better. If you are keen on an unwashed, grubby, unkempt Akshay Kumar, an inane script, and lots of stupid blathery dialogue, go ahead and watch it. The only saving grace? Katrina. The husband had a silly smile that lingered long after her scene of running in slow motion with a deep cut sphagetti top was dispensed with. No, no, she's not winning any awards for acting here too.
As for Mamma, being an Akshay fan, (nah, not acting of course. Purely hormone driven fan) she walked out too. The grubby, unwashed look and the suspicion of a head crawling with lice was too much to stomach.
And so we did. The three of us, Mamma, Pappa and brat, leaving the rest of the family behind to enjoy the show. And brat seized the moment. You have to hand it to him, he knows to grab opportunity. He didnt get it from his mother for sure. "Pappa, lesh go get d Joker from Shopperzshop."
Indulgent Pappa took him there. And brat knowing it was Pappa with him, and not Get-Down-To-His-Eye-Level-And-Say-No Mamma, went on toy gathering overdrive. Batman action figure so huge, that if it looms next to the bed in the dark, myopic Mamma will surely pass away with a heart attack brought on by fear. Batmobile. Bruce Wayne and Batman small action figures. Alas, no Joker. We hunted high and low. But couldnt find the Joker in any stores. Nor Lifestyle. Nor Shoppers Stop. "Sold out Maam," said the polite and helpful sales staff at both places. "In fact, the Jokers move faster than Batman," said the chappie manning the toy section at Shoppers Stop.
Totally understandable. He'd swallowed Batman whole in the movie too.
Sunday was spent in absolute laziness, rolling around the muck at home, and occasionally grunting at the piglet. And no, the brat didnt get feverish after that. Not yet, at least. Fingers crossed.
And how was your weekend?