HP4: Am I smarter than a 5th grader?

Homelandia Part 4

Disclaimer - Homelandia is a series of posts sharing my experiences from my recent trip to India. All the posts are based on true events exaggerated with a bit of masala (spice) in a truly Indian fashion. This includes some immature and naive opinions voiced by yours truly. No offense intended. None taken. Click here to read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6 and Part 7 of the series.

So Am I really smarter than a 5th grader?

Apparently My mom does not think so. During my recent visit to India I was coddled and cajoled so much that I honestly started believing I am 10 again. The following two incidents will demonstrate what I mean

Incident 1:

5:00 pm: I state that I wish to go sketching in Pune university. This is followed by numerous protests from mom. Apparently 3 years ago some one was killed there. Mom insists on accompanying me. I do not want her to come and get bored for 2 hours while I am sketching

7:00 pm: we are still arguing about whether she should go with me. We keep repeating the same arguments like a broken record. She also adds a few emotional blackmailing elements stating that instead of spending time with her, I want to go out alone. 

8:00 pm:I finally convince her to let me go by myself. The plan is to call her if it is very lonely out there and she will come in a rickshaw to rescue me.

9:00 am next morning - my mom feeds me, wraps me in her shawl, walks me to the rickshaw stand, kisses me good bye and waves her hand as my rickshaw takes off. I feel like I am going to school.

12:00 pm - I enjoy 2 hours of blissful sketching. There are lots of sane people (no murderers in sight) walking around me and lots of students are out studying. I wrap up my sketch and head home. I call my mom from autorickshaw and let her know that This baby's day out was succesful 

Incident 2

The day before I leave for Cochin

4:30 pm: Mom pesters me to start packing. I am a perpetual procrastinator and I never pack my bags until a few hours before my flight but I relent and stuff all my things into my bag.

5:30 pm: We weigh the bag and it is 2 kgs over the limit and so begins the packing and re packing. We change bags 2 times, move things around 4 times, weigh the bag 6 times, find more things to be packed 8 times, repack umpteen times. I want to remind my parents of the countless number of times I have travelled alone. Instead I silently watch and reminisce on the very first time I packed my own bags.

7:30 pm: Mom is reciting to me where everything is and telling me to be careful for the 100th time. She repeats this for each valuable I am carrying. I want to remind her that I carried all of these things from the U.S. to India without any issues but instead I just nod my head animatedly. 

9:00 am next day: My parents have arranged a rickshaw to take me to airport. Before I even realize it my dad has taken my bags down and loaded them in the rickshaw. I bid farewell to my parents as they tell me to be careful for the 200th time. 

PS: This post has been exaggerated for humor and is meant to be taken light-heartedly. I am forever indebted to my parents for everything they have done and continue to do for me.