Tongue In Chick

It was 9 am and one could hearing roaring from Mishraji’s house. Knowing that Mishraji is rather anti-anything-that-growls (read animals, particularly pets), one wondered what was the cause and who was growling.
The scene was unfolding on the verandah, which was funny because Mishraji has always believed, “Dirty linen is for private washing madame, else you will write about it.” Well, he sure thinks HE has an interesting life!
Anyway… so the scene was such that Mishraji was bellowing at his youngest son (not the one who recently got married). Apparently Mishraji wanted his son to “get out” of Orkut, Facebook, Hi5, Linked.In and every other possible social networking site. The son was roaring because while he had agreed to pull out his profile from Orkut, he wasn’t ready to give up on the others.

“But Daddyji, it’s my social life!” he roared.
“Nonsense. You are always sitting on the Internet. What social?” bellowed Mishraji.
“That’s how you meet people in this world!” son roared.
“All those people who will kidnap you and ask me for Rs 2 crore,” supplied Mishraji and for a minute one panicked, wondering if he perhaps reads ibnlive.com…
“Arre Daddyji, no one will kidnap me. They know you don’t have so much money,” countered son.
“Yes but if we mortgage the house…?” replied Mishraji at which the son looked at him incredulously.
Then pointing at yours truly said, “Even She uses social networking sites. It has not harmed her. Ask HER!”

“Madame,” asked Mishraji and his tone told one that unfortunately his earlier-target-for-the-day has just shifted from son to me. “Do you do social networking?”

One would have launched into the benefits of social networking when Mishraji added, “I know, I know. You work in the Internet, sitting, typing all day. You would want everyone to become like you. But hamare zamane main bhi dosti hoti thi, and we didn’t need Internet and our friends lasted for years and did not kill.” Before we could argue, gentle Mrs Mishraji steppedout of the house with chai for Mishraji. “Have you checked your computer-letter? Didi has written anything?” she asked of the Youngest Son. He pointed to Mishraji and said, “I will read if Daddyji will let me log on without standing behind my back, staring into my monitor… He thinks I am going to be kidnapped!”

“Uff, kya bolte hain aap!” she scolded Mishraji rather sweetly and in the hato-ji sort of way that had both Mishraji and me blushing. While it was a romantic blush for Mishraji (one was shocked to see it), yours truly was blushing because tenderness in an aged couple is very heart-warming… and a very private interaction to observe. The older generation is not the “likes public displays of affection” sort, you see.

And as one still-grappled with the idea of a romantic Mishraji – the US of A had done something to him – Mrs Mishraji continued, “Arre, you worry just like that. Children today can decide for themselves. Yes, some of them… I wish, understood more and were more careful; but they are a thinking generation. And then, we are there to tell them right and wrong...” At that the son winked at me, smiled at his mother and without so much as a glance at his father, ran inside. His mother followed, smiling.

Mishraji stood there with his chai, looking thoughtful. “But batate kahan hain… They don’t talk to us. If we knew the problems, we could help. But they don’t talk to us anymore… They social network and make killing friends. The Internet took our kids,” he said and shaking his head walked away.

Original appears here

Labels: cheeky tongue, ibnlive.com, jhoomur bose, Mishraji, tongue in chick