I was engrossed in some serious brainracking a while ago. Yes, I was playing chess with my 6 year old niece and 10 moves into the game, I had lost one each of my rook, bishop and horse; not to mention, the only way I could save the king was to lose the queen (pointed out again, by the afore-mentioned 6 year old niece). As the game progressed, I salvaged some of my lost pride and set her up to lose her queen. Am biting my fingernails hoping she’ll fall for it when she halts, looks at me, laughs out loud and yells, ‘daddee, look what sathya anna is trying to do…’. Talk about adding insult to injury. In cricket at least, rainfall may raise hopes for the downtrodden but what in chess?? Saved by the dinner call. Sitting in the basement, I notice some cds in western clasical music. Possessing a peremptory knowledge of some Beethoven and Mozart, I try to make a comeback after that despicable chess debacle by citing a few song names and generally showing off. As I am talking, my niece picks up an old violin lying at the side and plays every name that I utter. As I am getting used to constant, consistent thrashing of my mind and spirit, the next activity beckons. A bug’s life. This time, its the turn of the younger one. Yes, my 4 year old nephew. My numerous attempts at playing the damn thing have failed. Not to worry, says the little guy as I swap the remote control for his snickers. And as a final nail in the coffin, I ask for the subtitles to be switched on….
God, the kids of today….
