Bridging the generation gap... ho ho!

The G gap. Its the chasm, amorphously situated in time and space that separates those who have grown and those who will one day fill their shoes (or at least their socks, as the former may hope). I have heard, and spoken of this chasm whenever I have run out of words during some sort of debate between me and the pater and mater, or a debate which concerned paters and maters from the world over. On most occasions these minor 'chirkut' debates go in the directions of how the generation gap has expanded and expanded, with no effort being made from either side to bridge it in any way. But heck, I'm now looking back at whatever little past I have to look back on, and I realize that my dad is one of the sweetest and most sporting men of his kind alive on the planet today... :) Of course, he isn't one of those dads who has 'never ever let the generation gap bother his relationship with his children' or the type of dad Fardeen Khan's is. (Who went on air and told everyone that he even talks sex with him.. (really, why would anyone want to know that?))

Till a few years back, one of my major disappointments in life was that dad hardly ever spoke to me about anything, apart from how my studies were going. "Koto duur egolo oi onko ta?" or "porikkha kemon holo?" and other such similar hair raising questions used to be the order of the day. Mom and I, on the other hand would talk about perhaps sixty percent of all things under the sun. Among this sixty percent, was the issue I refer to above. And apparently, the news reached the good ears of Dasgupta Senior. That, precisely forms the basic reason why I ever got the chance to sit and write this piece of blog.

Now, put yourself in the shoes of a good man like my dad. Being full of love and concern for the way you bring up your two brats, you don't want to be too forthcoming... but lay in front of him the evidence of these same brats not being too happy about choice of conversation topics, and the hour will come!!

Which is to say, cometh the hour, cometh the man!

The particular day I refer to is a day on which both ma and I had the day off from school and college respectively, and the dad was across the table finishing his breakfast, and behind his glasses was the slight twinkle which said that there was something twinkling in his mind and was about to shine forth in all brightness...

"Let me tell you about an experience I had when I was in Canada in the seventies", he started. I started too, but that was because I was enganed in chewing a pensive idli, and generally concentrating on nothing at all.

"Eh? Oh, sure.."

"We had a group of Indian friends while I was in Canada. I was supposed to visit a friend's family for christmas and we had hired a cab to go the distance. There naturally was a fair bit of luggage, and we were wondering how to manage the whole lot in the car. Thats when one of my friends said 'Lets carry a few bags with us inside the car, the rest can go in the dicky!'. This seemed to be a fair enough idea to us.

"But not to our driver. The blessed man clutched his sides and started laughing like a madman! He kept pointing at the guy who offered the suggestion and kept laughing his head off. Can you guess why?"

"Why?" (By this time the mater was in audience too, listening with rapt attention; apparently she hadn't heard this before either)

"In US slang, dicky is the word they use for penis".

It is a known fact that people respond differently to same stimuli, and though the audience was restricted to the wife and son, there was some variety in response.

"Cheee!", went the mater and sailed off into the kitchen.

I started again. My eyes probably started from their spheres too, but it didn't matter, thanks to my sturdy spectacles.

I looked carefully at the man sitting in front of me. This couldn't be dad. No, he couldn't bring himself to say something like that in the house, at least not in front of me.

"Heh?", I grinned inqiusitively.

There followed what Shakespeare would have called a *pregnant silence*. What this pregnancy would cause, I didn't know. I could sense a little red about to enter the face from all sides... :) Finally the labour was over. We both burst out into the loudest guffaws I have ever heard in the house! More so because my dad realized by now that I always know what the slang for the word in question was!

"You knew?" he asked, wiping a tear from below his specs.

"Of course I knew!" I announced.

"But still".

"You bet!!"

And there we went guffawing again...

Then in his face I saw, that this wasn't just a random conversation. You could say taht I realized that my old mand didn't have tomato juice in his veins! He probably knew that I already knew what 'dicky' meant, but all the same the laugh we shared sure broke a few slabs of ice :)

This wasn't the only time the generation bridge appeared in the haze. Here, I recount another incident. About a three years ago we had an aunt visiting us for a couple of weeks. The normal drill with visitors is to take them around to the places Kerala is most famous for. The beaches, the backwaters the greenery and other such and of course, the much famed cape(though not quite in Kerala heh).

This time, an inspiration dawned on dad, and he announced 'Ernakulam!'.

"What? Why?"

"Its a beautiful place. We're going there tomororw. I'm going to arrange a taxi."

"But how come we've never gone there before?"

"But we're going now!", he answered, with the air of one who has set all doubts to rest.

That was my dad. A goner for sudden inspirations :) Morning came, and the taxi arrived on the dot. It was a spotless white ambassador. The kind Kerala is famous for! The driver looked a little sour though, perhaps not unlike a pissed off slab of gorgonzola. It didn't matter, though. We all stuffed ourselves in the car. Mom, Aunt and Gran in the spacious back seat, dad and I on the driver's sofa up front.

We're bongs, by the way. And one thing bongs are famous for, besides the craving for fish and baying for Sourav Ganguly, is loud laughter. That too at shield shattering levels! We proudly observed that characteristic, the gorgonzola was probably getting pissed off even more. My guess is he never ever saw or heard women laughing their hearts out at something which sounded greek to him anyway!

Ernakulam is about 5 hours north of Tvm, and about three hours into the journey, my dad answered a call on his cellphone, and replaced it in his shirt pocket.
I am a jet age kid. At least jet age enough to have read all sorts of emails that tell you what cellphone radiation can do to the human body, and hence I said instantly.

"Dad!"

"Hmm?"

"You should't put your phone in your shirt pocket"

"Why not?"

"It affects the heart and all"

"Oh I see", said he, without argument and proceeded to take it out of shirt and place it in his trouser pocket.

The moment of reckoning came.

"Err... Dad! "

"Hmmm?"

"You shouldn't keep it there either."

"Eh?"

"You shouldn't. "

"Why so?"

"It reduces... errr ah... "(How the dickens could I explain, with all the ladies sitting right behind?! Complete with Gran and Aunt and all!!! )

I waited tactfully for the next peal of laughter to ring out from the back, carpe'd the opportune, and muttered in his ear, "They say it recudes sperm count if you keep your phone in your trousers!"

Then erupted the loudest spate of laughter I have ever heard dad emit. "Ho ho ho!!", he went; and that was loud enough to make the ladies at the back sit up and take notice.

"Why would I need any more of them?! I don't need any more of them!!", he laughed helplessly. "Two.. ho! ho! ... two are more than what I can handle!!!". I saw the funny side now, and joined in with him!

"What? What happened? Why are you two laughing?" said the back seat.

"Nothing. Nothing at all", dad grinned at them. (He's rather cool, heh)
To this day, my mom wonders why we broke into such helpless laughter, and why we kept chuckling the rest of the two hours of car ride to Ernakulam! *guffaw*..

Ah well, it was nothing, really!! :D