Mother knows it all.....

I found this piece of article in some dusty box ... remembering it as my own work, that I had written way back in School, when I was in the seventh standard, as a possible entry to the School magazine, and being badly and outrightly rejected, I decided to 'blog' it ... no one can reject my write-ups in my blog, other than myself ... this piece is about the perils a young boy has to undergo after he wets his bed. The article does not indicate that I suffer from a bed-wetting problem, and therefore, should not be used against me. Here it goes...

The night was cold. The blankets were lying on the floor. Its too dark to see anything. Outside, a light mist covers the sky. Inside, everything is motionless, plunged into a deep silence. Occasional sounds of coughs can be heard outside; at times a guard passes by with a shrill whistle. You can sleep no more; there is a sense of urgency, a feeling of pain and frustration, and uneasiness. You are too scared to get up, to walk through the dark corridor. Who knows what’s hiding behind the closed door, what evil force would cast its spell on you, and therefore you lay where you are. Then, there is a moment of relief, and you sleep. Sleep – that’s put you into a state of unconsciousness. Its all over now. The cool breeze has decreased the temperature. Your body can’t withstand any longer. The dam breaks, and you have wet your bed again. It strikes you the first thing in the morning. The night was eerie, the morning would be even worse. Now, mom seems to be scarier than the devil.

Isn’t it really embarrassing, when you wet your bed?? Especially when you are slowly growing and maturing. It ensures a good night’s sleep, but its discovery is the most horrible part. Mom complains the clothes don’t dry fast during winters, but does the poor body understand that? What does she know about the dark world and the devils that lurk behind bathroom doors in the middle of the night? Wouldn’t it be just great if mom never realized that you have soaked your bed?

First, there’s the mark. A distinct wavy pattern, a work of art, a natural masterpiece. Friction causes heat. Heat evaporates liquids. Sorry, Physics cannot be applied here. How much ever you rub your body against it, it just doesn’t evaporate. It makes you wonder how large rivers and lakes go dry during summers. Its power is such that it can penetrate through layers and layers of bed-sheets. Some even try ironing the bed when mom’s busy. Will it work? No – smell doesn’t evaporate so quickly.

Then, there are your clothes. Wet, wet, wet. Hiding them won’t do. Mom knows the colour and design of all your inner-wears. She’ll catch you in a minute.

If these weren’t enough, you carry along with yourself a distinct smell, a smell that is way beyond the fragrance of flowers, a smell that is much stronger than the smell of the first rain, and a smell that reaches your mom’s nose first.

Switch on the fan – full speed – in vain. Spill water on bed purposely – you are only making matters worse. Cover the bed with books and bags – mom is the first person to clean them, and she’ll soon discover her son’s talent. Exchange places with your younger brother or sister – mom will check your clothes, and ground you for 2 misdeeds.

Then what will work? Sorry, this is not an essay to teach you new tricks. This is just an attempt to say – “Nothing will work”. Sorry to disappoint you. Mother knows it all. You can commit a murder and escape law, but you can never escape from mother. So, the next time you sleep, make sure you go the toilet first; because its not the devil that is watching you – its your mother. Your very own mother, because “Mother knows it all”.