Just got off the phone to Nupur. She sounded... well, off-colour. I, the ever-considerate elder sister, asked her what was wrong.
"Tired," she said. Shoot no wonder. It was eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. "Why're you up so early?" I asked.
"Geeta Mandal," she said.
"Right," sayeth I. It's the local temple, and the family figure greatly in its administration, so they do have to turn up for all the functions.
"I never get to sleep in," she complained.
"Not yesterday?" I asked. "What did you do?"
"Bharat Natayam."
My, oh, my. Indian classical dance, it is. Take the uncoordinated raven out the back and shoot her.
"What did you do yesterday?" she asked, in that sniffly plaintive voice that always spells trouble where she's concerned.
"Well..." I said. "I got up at about half ten. Went into Liverpool with my friends."
"What did you do?"
"Um...." I said, a tad helplessly. What did we do? "We sat on the grass," I said. "We bought beads and made bracelets. We went to Virgin and bought CDs. Um... we went to Subway."
"Oh?" she said. Her family own a Subway franchise.
"And bought sandwiches," I continued doggedly. "And... um... we sat on the grass. Did I already say that?"
"That sounds like so much fun..." she said.
It does?
"It does?"
"I wish I could just do what I want like that."
"I'm three years older than you," I said reasonably. "You'll be able to when you're my age."
She's a smart cookie, my sister. Obviously - it's genetic. "That's not true," she said. "I can't get the train anywhere."
"Because you don't have them. Right," I agreed.
"And you could do what you wanted when you were younger," she went on, piteously.
"And you can't?"
"No! I don't even get to sleep late!"
"Nupur," I said. "You know I'm coming to see you in late June?"
"Yeah...." [Sniff, sniff]
"When I come back, why don't you come with me?"
"Really? You mean it?"
Absolutely.
"Absolutely. You can sit on the grass with me and my friends and learn how to do nothing."
"But..."
"And don't worry," - I was on a roll - "Pedar will talk your mother into it."
I put my thumb on the phone mouthpiece. "Pedar, will you do me a favour?"
"Anything you like, princess."
My mother is now assisting in the talking-her-into-it.
Somewere out there, in Indianapolis, Indiana, there is a very happy thirteen-year-old girl jumping up and down.
And she's the sweetest thing, Nupur is. I love her to tiny little pieces, not that I've ever told her that. She ought to enjoy a summer learning the elusive British-teenager art of doing fuck-all.
I've done my good deed for the day.
"Tired," she said. Shoot no wonder. It was eight o'clock on a Sunday morning. "Why're you up so early?" I asked.
"Geeta Mandal," she said.
"Right," sayeth I. It's the local temple, and the family figure greatly in its administration, so they do have to turn up for all the functions.
"I never get to sleep in," she complained.
"Not yesterday?" I asked. "What did you do?"
"Bharat Natayam."
My, oh, my. Indian classical dance, it is. Take the uncoordinated raven out the back and shoot her.
"What did you do yesterday?" she asked, in that sniffly plaintive voice that always spells trouble where she's concerned.
"Well..." I said. "I got up at about half ten. Went into Liverpool with my friends."
"What did you do?"
"Um...." I said, a tad helplessly. What did we do? "We sat on the grass," I said. "We bought beads and made bracelets. We went to Virgin and bought CDs. Um... we went to Subway."
"Oh?" she said. Her family own a Subway franchise.
"And bought sandwiches," I continued doggedly. "And... um... we sat on the grass. Did I already say that?"
"That sounds like so much fun..." she said.
It does?
"It does?"
"I wish I could just do what I want like that."
"I'm three years older than you," I said reasonably. "You'll be able to when you're my age."
She's a smart cookie, my sister. Obviously - it's genetic. "That's not true," she said. "I can't get the train anywhere."
"Because you don't have them. Right," I agreed.
"And you could do what you wanted when you were younger," she went on, piteously.
"And you can't?"
"No! I don't even get to sleep late!"
"Nupur," I said. "You know I'm coming to see you in late June?"
"Yeah...." [Sniff, sniff]
"When I come back, why don't you come with me?"
"Really? You mean it?"
Absolutely.
"Absolutely. You can sit on the grass with me and my friends and learn how to do nothing."
"But..."
"And don't worry," - I was on a roll - "Pedar will talk your mother into it."
I put my thumb on the phone mouthpiece. "Pedar, will you do me a favour?"
"Anything you like, princess."
My mother is now assisting in the talking-her-into-it.
Somewere out there, in Indianapolis, Indiana, there is a very happy thirteen-year-old girl jumping up and down.
And she's the sweetest thing, Nupur is. I love her to tiny little pieces, not that I've ever told her that. She ought to enjoy a summer learning the elusive British-teenager art of doing fuck-all.
I've done my good deed for the day.
Re:
on 2003-03-23 09:28 am (UTC)I know... I never really understand why she and her friends don't have our kind of freedom.
And you will meet her. Don't worry about that, it's all being... arranged....