As a person who looks out for stories in every nook and corner…. I can’t imagine a childhood without the bed-time stories.
My mom is a working mother, hence I’m sure it would have been a tough task for her to bring up two children — 1.5 years apart, with two different personalities and needs.
My needs were simple – I don’t want anything and everything that my bother wants and bed-time stories!
Usually she would pass this task to my dad, who is a self-proclaimed cool person. But his stories started with oridathu oridathu… (once upon a time) and continued it till either we got annoyed and pushed him out of bed or slept off coz we were too tired to correct him. Anyway, I haven’t heard a single story from my dad.
There are days when my mom had time and tucked us in our bed and narrated stories that were told to her by her mother. Today I thought of sharing one of them with you all. YOU CAN THANK ME LATER
So she started…. “Once upon a time there was a family, father, mother and a child….”. I interrupted, “What’s the name of the child mamma?”
“let’s call him Akash.”
“It was one happy family. The parents were working hence they had a maid to look after the child and her name was Daisy. She loved the child like her own. One day the parents had to leave for somewhere for a few days and for some reason couldn’t take the child with them.”
“Like how you went to Kerala when Grandpa was ill,” my brother interrupted her. My mother continued…. “Yes… Something like that…”
She continued holding us close, “The child was extremely naughty. He used to disturb the maid a lot. One day,out of frustration, the maid raised her hand on the child.” “Oh…..” My brother and I reacted, engrossed in the story.
“The child hit his head on the floor and passed away.”
There was pin-drop silence in the room… The only background music we had was the chaukidar’s stick hitting the floor outside. thk… thk… thk…
You might think it would end there. But no! Wait for the really creepy part.
“So, the maid gets worried and buries the child in their lawn under a rose plant. When the parents used to call she would lie that they kid is playing outside or has gone for tuitions or something.”
The morning the parents were supposed to arrive. Daisy noticed a newly bloomed flower on the rose plant. She went close to it to pluck it but the flower began to swing and sing, “Thodaruth Daisy, Thottu kooda Daisy, Nalu mani neram, Daisy cheytha paapam” (Don’t touch me Daisy, It’s 4 O’clock. The time Daisy committed the crime.)
Daisy got really scared and when the parents arrived she told them everything.
I still don’t know the moral of the story, if at all there was one. But since then I started looking at our Didi, who used to stay at our place, suspiciously and rose plants very differently.
We forced our parents to keep all the tuitions at 4 o clock. It’s always safe to have people around.
This was a story passed on to my mom and she did to me… I would like to stop there.