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The Atticus Diaries
Bibliophile - atheist - reader of religious texts - B-School Grad - math-hater - part-time poet - wannabe bodybuilder - couch-potato - animal lover - non-vegetarian - software engineer - technophobe - day-dreamer - basketballer that never was - cruciverbalist - Indian - SriLankan - neither - marketing grad - financial analyst - another confused clueless speck living it up on good ol' earth!!

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Thursday, September 30, 2004
Your Queendom Come... Your Will Be Done...

For a long long time in my childhood, I was outnumbered two to one by the distaff side of the household. Dad's work often took him out of town, leaving me alone in the defence of the male right to uncouth, unclean, languid existence. The Queen's rule held sway in our domicile. And Her Majesties Mother and Sister took great pains to discipline their one hapless subject with love, threats, taunts, treats and (especially with the latter royal) pinches & raps!

If you are a flabby 'little' boy prone to over-sleeping, day-dreaming, littering, collecting sports-pictures, chewing gum and doing everything else that constitutes the everyday business of the average twelve year old, the last place you want to end up in is a rather cramped two room 'fortress' manned by a couple of short, thin workaholic ladies. But that's exactly where I lived out a good decade and more of my life, alternatively perplexed, irked, sorrowed or devastated in keeping with what was on the puppy ..er...boy training agenda for the day.

Sons and kid-brothers (especially kid-brothers) would agree that the feminine strategy for bringing up a boy is akin to the US foreign policy vis-a-vis Iraq - frequent unexplained raids into sovereign territory leaving destruction and chaos in their wake. And what ghastly raids they were... The attacks would begin with a seemingly innocuous room-cleaning exercise which will quickly metamorphose into a violent shelf-combing operation. And out of my shelf would fall those last remaining symbols of underground masculine resistance - marbles, tops, dilapidated tennis-balls, batteries, bottles and wheels.

But the issue that was the closest to the hearts of both warring factions were sports-posters! From Maradona to Martin Crowe to Martina Navaratilova, pictures of sportspersons in various sizes and shapes were my hobby (alright, obsession). And this resource that could fuel a decent backyard fire often caught the hawk-eye of Her Majesty Sister. When a particularly harsh royal decree declared these masterpieces "useless, dirty and disgusting", I decided to show how, with a little innovation, our bedroom can become a veritable showcase of sporting history. Suffice to say that there indeed was a bonfire in our backyard that night. Magazine cuttings posted on a bedroom wall with Fevicol (some of it amply spilt on the floor as well) is not everyone's idea of interior decor, I guess!

Thus passed my days, in the hope of a revolution just round the corner. I grew up never fully fathoming the intricacies of feminine logic... What if my basketball shoes stink? So does everybody else's!!... Why should I wash myself after cricket, if I only need to catch a quick meal and return?... If music can't be played at max volume, why do music-systems have max volume?... Why can't the six stray pups at the gate become our pets????

The revolution never really came. Yet, the royals slowly relinquished the throne and just around my twelfth standard, democracy began to prevail at home. Guess they realized that there is only that much good sense that can be driven into what was now a 75 kg, 5'9" monster... And I began my transition from big-stubborn-ball-of-dirt-moving-about-the-house to a grudgingly acknowledged man-of-the-house. But, to this day, when I return to my hostel-room all sweaty from the gym, I hear a shrill voice shouting at me - "Leave you shoes at the door! Go write into the bathroom NOW! Not a morsel of food till you are squeaky clean!!"

PS:
Mom, Sis, I didn't mean a single word of it. Please please continue to feed me...

NMaria
August 15, 2006   06:14 PM PDT
 
Good one...
You have written - "Go write into the bathroom now." Shouldn't it be "right" ?

Kanamma
November 24, 2004   03:19 AM PST
 
Good one Atticus... u hv a very nice style of writing...

Hats off to Her Majesties for having put up with u for all those times :D
Aristo
October 6, 2004   01:57 AM PDT
 
Gud
Apple
October 3, 2004   10:31 PM PDT
 
The males of the homosapien species haven't evolved with time... And the bottomline of your post proves it! LOL!
Atticus
October 3, 2004   02:57 PM PDT
 
Rhea, the baby has grown.... From my jpg collection, think I can sustain the growth for a few months ;)

Love and Peace
Atticus
Rhea B
October 3, 2004   01:18 PM PDT
 
ok..so does the baby grow older as u blog more often?:P
Atticus
October 2, 2004   12:06 AM PDT
 
Nistelrooy pix eh, Yoss? Guess we can have a big fight sometime over ManU Vs The Gunners :))

And about the profile-pix Rhea, me still a baby in bloggin... ;) jus started a month back..

Love and Peace,
Atticus
yossarian
October 1, 2004   09:10 PM PDT
 
felt the same way ...now in college i got everythin i want in my room... from van nistelrooy's pics to batman posters to hitlers biography...heil freedom..!!!
Rhea B
October 1, 2004   08:33 PM PDT
 
hey...i just read ur comment..so dropped by to check out this guy with the name of one of my favourite fictional characters:)....
a lot of ur book choices match mine...btw why have u put a baby's picture in ur profile space?...is it u?:P
   

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