To this day, the Gupta Family Curse lives on. We deal with it every time we travel by train. Sometimes, it would follow us to the skies, but it is most comfortable with the railways, because it gets more time to mess with us.
None of us know how it originated. We do not know which witch under which Cyprus tree brewed her malicious potions and who she slipped it to – us Guptas don’t keep historical records very well. My memory only goes as far back as my mother, when my sister and I were still part of this plague. We were squadron leaders on the dark side of the force, yet now we are not the hunters, we are the hunted.
Ah those were the days – the days we were oblivious to the curse. Back then, it wasn’t bothersome. It felt like a fly feels to a mighty lion – a minor annoyance. But ever since I got ahead of myself and recognised it, the curse has borne its fangs wide. Without fail, every train journey we take starts with us carefully and shiftily looking around us, for signs of the dreadful curse and sure enough, there they are – kids.
Fat kids, thin kids, skinny kids, tall kids, short kids, dark-skinned kids, fair-skinned kids, older kids, way-too-young-to-travel kids, kids who are straight up, and sneaky little kids who give you hope that they will be quiet through the journey and then take it away. Rare is that journey that is peaceful. I use train journeys to catch up on sleep to supplement a semester’s worth of abuse to my body, only to be brutally awakened and to look around slowly with groggy eyes and a scrunched-up expression – searching for the source of that rude disturbance – and it is, of course, the kid on the next seat crying either because her mother is not carrying her, or crying because the mother is carrying her, or because she wants or does not want food, or another kid is eating chocolate which is morally wrong for her on so many levels, or something else of the sort.
Before this starts sounding more and more like an angry rant, let me clarify that I’m trying to exaggerate for entertainment, but it is still pretty annoying to be awoken from what I thought would be my well-deserved short-term coma. I do not doubt that my eyes at that point would be bloodshot red, and I’d have bed hair, so I would be looking like a deranged serial killer who hasn’t eaten in days (Hannibal reference, woo!) .
This post is pretty pointless. I started it while I was on the train, and I thought some over-the-top descriptions would be nice. Though, without fail, every train ride I’ve taken in the last 5 years or so has been alongside kids, multiple kids on several occasions. So question of the day is this – Do you have any “family curses” that you deal with in particular situations? Let me know in the comments, and we can discuss it at length.
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