The Case Of The Missing Newspaper
Every once in a while I get bouts of insomnia; they are fairly consistent though not very frequent. The pattern is typical; I will get up about an hour or so after sleeping and then will not be able to sleep again.
Once my sleep is gone I stay awake whole night wondering what to do. As I am a creature of habits it becomes very difficult for me to go to the next task once something starts haunting me.
One of my favourite time pass on Sunday is to read the complete newspaper specially the editorial section. Now, the unspoken rule in our home is that, the Sunday newspaper is discarded only once I have read it, till then it continues to adorn a place of honour in our living room. My weekend is not complete till I have read the editorial and given my opinion to myself on it, so any time this routine is disturbed my sleep goes for a toss, something very similar to a jet lag.
Last weekend, I had gone for a jaunt, and returned late Sunday evening, but I was too tired to read newspaper and crashed in bed after dinner. But after about one hour I was wide awake wondering what to do. The action item on top of the list was to read my Sunday newspaper, so I sneaked in to the living room, trying my best to not disturb Sasha.
Once in the living room I walked slowly to the center table only to find its rack as barren as Thar desert, there was no newspaper in the rack. Now, during day time I would have instinctively called “Sasha, where is my newspaper” and she would have instinctively replied “Exactly where you left it last time.”
But since it was middle of the night, I did not want to wake her up. ‘Think Think’, I told myself trying to be a cocktail of 007 and Agent Vinod and reaching the conclusion that the newspaper must be in the shelf in store where old papers are kept before the Kabadiwalla comes to buy them. (You see we are a family that believes in recycling)
Slowly I entered the kitchen, closing the door behind me, the door made a thud as I pushed it with more than the requisite force. Once the thud of the door slowly vanished into the moonlit night, I had the courage to switch on the light. I started searching the shelf with old papers, and on top was the Saturday newspaper but no Sunday paper. I started looking below and “voila!”, below Friday was the magazine supplement of Sunday.
The magazine supplement gave me hope and I started checking the newspapers vigorously. As I was looking through the papers there was a loud crash and all the newspapers along with some cans of pulses, and rice from the shelf above came crashing on my leg. My scream joined the sound of the crash and pierced the kitchen door continuing its travel towards the bedroom of girls and finally reaching our bedroom jolting Sasha out of her slumber.
In less than a second the mom and the girls were standing at the kitchen door, with Sasha even holding the racquet used to kill mosquitoes like a light saber in her hand to make even Master Yoda proud.
“What are you doing in Kitchen in the middle of night crashing all my pots and pans?”, asked Sasha.
“ Are you Ok papa?” queried my elder one, always concerned about her dear dad.
“Papa are you making breakfast?”, was the hope that the younger one had in form or a question on seeing me in kitchen.
I meekly said, “nothing, let us all go to bed”. Too tired to further investigate, the girls started going back to their rooms. I followed them just to say ‘good night’, while Sasha was examining the damage caused. When I tucked the young one in bed I felt dampness on her bed and some rustling sound.
“What is the matter with your bed?”, I asked.
“Oh, it is newspaper papa under my bed-sheet.”
“ ???”
“Oh the cap on my water bottle was very tight so when I was opening it I spilled a lot of water on my bed, so I went to living room and brought the newspaper to keep under bed.”
“ Why you did not wake up any one of us?”
“You all were sleeping so I did not want to wake up any of you.”
Oh. Ok, smart girl let me check the newspaper”, and there under damp bed-sheet was even damper newspaper.
I slyly hid the sparkle in my eyes and take an offensive pose as Sasha entered the room.
“Are you sure it is water, you have not done susssoo?”
“No Papa you can smell the paper if you don’t trust me”, beamed the kiddo with the innocence that only a 4-year-old can have.
Satisfied I changed colours that would make a Chamaeleon blush, and suddenly was all honey and sugar.
“Cutie pie, since your bed is wet why don’t you go and sleep with your Mama while I will sleep in the drawing-room?”
Sasha was looking puzzled at all this, and the elder one put her bed-sheet on her head mumbling ‘now please switch off the light’.
I thwarted all attempts of resistance by mother and daughter and waited for the lights to go off in our bedroom. Once I could not hear any movement, I slowly opened the newspaper and straight went to the editorial section. Ah! Bliss.
Next day, Sasha tried her best to find out why I was sabotaging her kitchen but I maintained my silence, leading to many conspiracy theories. She still believes I was in kitchen to sneak some snacks from the fridge.
I just smile without accepting or denying, you see ignorance is bliss.
Sasha and Prasad Np are proud parents of 2 girls whom they fondly call Princess and Pinkette. He wears many hats after taking a break from being corner office critter for a long time. He is now an entrepreneur, blogger, photographer, traveler and a potential investor in start-ups with unique concepts especially if they are in travel related business. He blogs at Desi Traveler, and can be reached at Facebook and Twitter.
