” So Poseidon went to Aphrodite and said that people had stopped worshiping her and had started adoring the Queen instead! Amma, Aphrodite was flicking through the pages of Vogue. She raised her head…”
I raise my head from the magazine that I was browsing through.The columnist was praising the Hungarian novel, ” The melancholy of resistance,” by Laszlo Krasna Horkal. He had won the ManBooker award of 2015.
” Yup! When she got time from checking her Facebook for the number of likes…”, grins my daughter.
” This is absolutely nothing! So basically Poseidon wants her to make King Minos’s wife fall for the white bull. So he says…should we not get Queen Pasiphae to fall in love with someone totally unsuitable?”
By this time, I am dazed.
” Listen, ma! Just listen to me,” she laughs at my expression.” Like David Hassellhoff?”Aphrodite queries. ” No, someone worse,” suggests Poseidon. ” Oh, I know! How about Charlie Sheen?” Says Aphrodite.
” Maybe as a back up plan,” says Poseidon.
” What are you reading?” I croak feebly.
” Oh amma- the coolest book in the world! How can Greek Heroes be so much fun? Rick Riordan aces it! It is Percy Jackson meeting the Greek Heroes! ”
I forget melancholy. I do not resist. If a writer could capture teenagers’ imagination and make them learn Greek, Egyptian, Roman and Norse mythology with humour and panache, I am all for it.
Hail Rick Riordan!
” You are like Mrs.Hilton. Very strict,” sniffs my little girl.
I search my memory. I used to love Five Find Outers a lot! Actually, I preferred Mrs.Trotteville.
One does not display one’s weakness before an extraordinarily perceptive audience.
I sniff better than her.
” Why? Just because I make sure you do your Maths homework in time?”
After half an hour, when her sister cheerfully breezes in, she suddenly throws her a question.
” Chechy, which mother in Find Outer is like our amma?”
I search in vain for a joint conspiracy. None is evident.
My elder girl laughs.
” Hmmm..let us see. Hey what was the name of Philip’s mother?”
” I told you soooooooo!!!”
That was the little girl. And to think that I mistook her for sweet little Bets at times!
” Wait a second,” I interject forcefully, ” are you sure you did not mean Fatty’s mom?”
” Mrs.Hilton, that’s it. Is that not Bets& Philip’s mom’s name?” Chechy corroborates her sibling, in a rare moment of agreement.
All the evidence pointed out that the conspiracy theory was a figment of my melancholic imagination.
” Am I that much anti fun?”
” Yesssssss,” they speak together happily, ” yessssss!”
” Even Fatty is scared of her! He is not scared of his own mom!” My daughters soothe my low spirits, very nicely.
I contemplate different answers. Then I accept the truth.
” Mrs Hilton is ok, actually,” I conclude, bravely.
” No, she is not! She thinks Goon should be left to do his own thing. No fun, ma!” That is my emperor has no clothes baby.
” What will make me qualified for Mrs.Trotteville?” I ask meekly.
” Oh we are fine with you amma. You will be weird if you try to be someone else,” says the elder one.
My little girl smiles mysteriously.” When you stop watching 1930s songs,” she offers sweetly.
I sniff like Goon himself.
“The mystery of the outdated mother- that is a saga which will echo throughout generations. Just you girls wait! ” I think to myself.
My melancholy lifts suddenly!