I was watching a song on YouTube, “Ooh la” by The Kooks. I have heard this song many times, and each time, this song has enthralled me due to its conventional Indie style, black and white video, and its post-punk revival beats.

As customary to listening to music, I was lost in thoughts. I was keenly recollecting its lyrics, because, a couple of days back I had sung that song.

It sang, ‘And Ooh la, she was such a good girl to me’.

Hearing that, I missed a beat; not just one or two, but in fact at most parts, where the missed beats progressed throughout the entire length of the song, as though my thoughts swung rhythmically like a pendulum of a retro wall clock, back and forth, between the song and my thoughts.

No, it was not the song, but, off-late, I had been a bit harsh on my little girl. I had just remembered that she’s been a good and an obedient girl, playing alone mostly.

Because of the isolation the Covid-19 situation had caused, I had been writing, drawing and even singing. Singing is not in my caliber of skills, and lately I had been trying to sing with unpromising results. It is a hard fact when you realize that talents are born, and it becomes harder when you know you were not in that list.

So for a change, I decided to play with my little one.

I do play with her, and at most times I’am choosy enough to play simpler games. But, allowing her to select the game of her choice is as ridiculous as letting oneself walk into a lion’s den, unarmed. Something, which I realized later.

Post my work-from-home shift, I normally indulge in reading news and savor tea. But, the child had other plans. She demanded to postpone my break.

‘Dad, you play first and then do the rest!’ was her stern response. Kids are mean when the juice is upon them, and that left you with two choices, either surrender or die convincing them.

It was one such occasion. I chose the latter.

My kid was excited at the prospect that I decided to play with her. She invited me to play ‘The School’. I agreed.

Our hall was the school, and a neatly arranged corner was the class room. The door leading to the class room was marked ‘Grade 3’.

What fascinated me was the imagination of my child. It reminded me of Calvin and Hobbes, the famous cartoon strip that they print in newspapers, in which Calvin, the kid who would imagine his tiger (Hobbes) to be alive and the stories that revolved around them.

I was to play a role of her imagination.

As I entered the class, there were two students seated, and I was the third. My classmates were her favorite toys namely, Dora and Rosie. Both were dumb.

Three boxes of different sizes were arranged as desks, upon which notebooks and pencils were placed.

I was asked to speak with the toys until the teacher arrived. It was a funny feeling. How often do you find yourself speaking with toys when you are middle aged?

I looked at the smiling Dora. She was a star, so, there was this interest in befriending her. ‘Hi, my name is Sam’, partly unsure about what I was doing. No answer.

So, I looked at both the toys and said, ‘I’am new to this class. Would you guys stop staring and be nice to me?’. No response.

‘I say, we should be friends, let’s shake hands’, I said shaking their hands, which, for a toy, were as big as mine. More stillness.

It followed with I’am from Bangalore, and I like Pizzas and all that stuff, which kids would include in their communication. By now the toys, if it had an element of life in them, would have been my pals. For a third person it would look like a case of mental disorder.

The teacher came with a wooden cane in her hand and I forgot to wish the teacher.

She said ‘Dad, you are supposed to wish the teacher’. It’s been a while I had been in a real class, so, perhaps my memory was a bit hazy. So, I wished her.

She looked at the dumb students. Probably, they need to wish her too. She asked me to imitate for the other students. So, I had to wish her thrice, mimicking in three different voices for each student.

Even before I could overcome the aftermath of the mimicking exercise, I was asked to repeat the same process for the attendance.

The first, was the English period and I thought, well, that should be easy. She asked me antonyms and synonyms and I gave the wrong answers. This was what the teacher wanted and she used the cane and beat me into a pulp. Kids with cane is like a monkey with a gun.

The next period was the break. I was asked to run away from the class, which I gladly agreed. But, she caught hold of my tee-shirt and dragged me back into another room. That, she said was the

Principal’s chamber. Hitler’s gas chambers would have been a much safer place, I wondered.

What made things more worse was that the principal was my kid herself. I last remembered, I was in the Principal’s room in my Grade 6, because our bench had broke. Five rowdy kids, including me, had sat on a shaky old bench and had did some terrible jigs on it that it crashed and fell over. The teacher came into the class at the last-minute to see us fall and roll and laugh. We walked to the Principal’s room as it was the class rules then, and we had walked as if we were walking the gallows. All were eventually punished.

However, the double role daughter was kind and asked me to go back to the classroom.

When I went to the class I found a new enrolled student. My wife, was seated on another table. The fourth student.

She had volunteered to join in and I had to laugh. “How naive of her”, I’d thought.

My daughter wanted us to fight. So we fought. It was a boy vs a girl situation, and being the only boy, I was to face the brunt. I was brought in front of the class to be caned. At times she would not be convinced that I was hurt enough or beaten enough. Perhaps, she had her set standards on caning. She would then, cane me harder in the end. Once tired, she asked me to get out.

Was God merciful. I felt it was the case. But, it was not. I was dragged to the class room again.

More classes followed. At this point, I was being crucified. I had to recollect the time when I was young, when me and my cousins buried a dead ant on wet earth, and crucified it with a cross made of sticks.

When we think about it now, it looks strange and funny. But don’t we miss those younger days, and we cannot find a reason to opine why such things ever occurred in the first place. It was as if the powers wanted us to enjoy every childhood moment, without a thought.

Then came the PE period. I was asked to do a march past. First, it was just the imitation of the march past. Then, she thought for a while with a finger on her cheek. She asked me to wear a cap and ordered like an army commander, ‘Now walk!’.

Probably she felt that I looked good walking with the cap, and she paraded me the entire hall and other rooms. My wife followed suite.

We were asked to walk-in order, and off we went with our hands on each other’s shoulders singing the Andaz Apna Apna song ‘Do mastane chale’.

I was beaten for breaking the order.

In the end, I was asked to cry as though I had to go home. So I cried, which cheered her. The idea was to make me look like a ragged student, but, I ended up looking more like a worn out toothbrush.

I was handed a paper, which was, according to her, a complaint letter asking me to bring my parents.

The day ends here.

But honestly, the above was just for the laughs. I did enjoy every moment I played with her and it gave me the opportunity to enjoy my kid’s creative abilities and to amaze how seriously she would portray each roles.

It also gave me fond memories of my own childhood.

Indeed, it is a time that we spent with each other. This isolation has taught us to spend quality time with our family and I’am sure there would be a millions of stories from a lot many of them to share.

So, stay at home, enjoy every moment with your family and importantly, stay safe.