“But it can,” I insisted. “The battery may have run out. The mercury might be misbehaving.”
“No such luck. It is a brand new thermometer. Plus, I don’t even need one—your forehead is hot enough to make luchis on.”
It was a beautiful day outside. February in Delhi is a wonderful time. The bite of winter is gone, and the sun is golden and inviting. It was the ideal weather to go up to the roof, bite into peanuts, play with my ping-pong ball, and race with the kittens. Instead, here I was in bed, wrapped in rugs, facing the prospect of a perfectly glorious day sacrificed to fever.
My little family was busy. Granny prepared her quintessential chicken—to be made lighter with extra pepper and healthy spices to beat the fever. Grandpa gave me a shoulder massage, convinced that my fretful, feverish night had given me a headache. Dad called every so often from work, enquiring about his princess. As for Mom, she didn’t settle down for a second. She did my hair so I wouldn’t feel bedraggled on account of frizzy, sweaty hair. She brought me snacks and ordered new books from the neighbourhood bookstore. She switched off the television and other noisy gadgets, so nothing jarred my aching head.
By the evening, the thermometer showed a reading of 99 degrees. The family rejoiced. Made me hot, fragrant soup. Helped me change into fresh clothes. Assured me that I would now sleep much better. Brought me my pet rabbit and monkey who had been looking woebegone the entire day but were now back to their idiotically grinning selves.
“You look SO much better!” They exclaimed happily as I petted my plush animals and accepted spoonfuls of soup.
“Yes,” I agreed. “The thermometer never lies.”
This morning, many years after that feverish February day, I woke up feeling under the weather. I wished someone would give me a back-rub, bring me breakfast in bed, and know exactly what would lift my spirits. I missed my plush toys, now living in a big trunk in a storeroom back in Delhi. I could almost smell the chicken soup and stew, and wished the winds were sturdy enough to balance a plateful and bring it to me.
But I am now an adult. Adults look after themselves. They measure their temperature using a thermometer without assistance. If it shows a fever, they lie to everyone and go about their day as usual. In adulthood, lying is no longer considered a boo-boo.
* * *
I am taking up the April #AtoZChallenge 2019 and will post every day of the month, except Sundays. I look forward to your company!
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That description made me want to run into your house and ask for some TLC for myself. And I don’t even have fever! 😀
Kittens. Grandpa. Grandma. Mom. TLC. Soup. Love. Sigh…
Adulthood sucks majorly. We should ideally never grow up.
Aww I loved the way you put that! ❤
Seriously – adulthood can be so taxing, no? We must have been fools to want to grow up as fast as we did.
May I go back in time and be ill in your house too? I felt comforted just reading about it ❤
Haha may you never be ill ❤
Thanks so much!
Ha Ha! That would work too! ❤
Haha you got it! ❤
This is so beautifully written. When we were kids, we wanted to grow up but now that we are adults we crave for our own childhood days. Life is an irony I feel.
Absolutely. Life is an irony. Wish they would teach that in school. Thanks a lot, C! 🙂
Oh my, you’ve made me miss my home! Brilliant! 😉
Adulting is super tough! I kinda regret it everyday! 😛
Delighted you liked it! ❤
Adulting sure is tough – and to think we couldn't wait to do it when we were little. 😛
I can totally relate to your post. Childhood days won’t be back though we can cherish the memories ❤️
Absolutely. The memories are a treasure ❤
I loved reading this. Somehow I relate and I don’t relate.
I will explain-
I am definitely and adult but I still live with my parents and this has still given me perks (and cons too) of living with them. And so I DREAD at even a thought of doing all by myself. not to forget, even today there are times when I hide things form them, when I lie, (as you calll adulating) but I know it is different away from parents I have lived alone for more than 5 years to know how it is. And as much as I want to do things on my own, I am still scared. So, I relate and I still don’t relate.
Moushmi, thanks a ton for sharing your thoughts. I really enjoyed finding out your perspective about this – you indeed have several contrasts 😀
Living with the parents and away from them are two such diverse situations that I think our minds and bodies make internal adjustments and tune-ups 😀
Hugs Debo. You are going to be fine. Sometimes I so wish I could go back to being a child. Now that I am a mother, I don’t even know what it means to be taken care of. It is always like I’m taking care of this little boy.
Thank you for the hug, Sonia! ❤ I can imagine how you must feel – giving love is beautiful, but being taken care of is also a supremely blessed feeling 🙂
So true .. we carry on even when the body inside cries
Warm welcome here, Ruchi.
What a lovely lovely post. You put it so well and its so true as well. I loved every bit of your description and the end too.😢😢
Thanks a ton, Sonia. Means a lot to me 🙂🙂