Little Girl, Interrupted

Thanks to father's frequent postings, mother and I spent some of my early years at our ancestral home when he was posted to remote locations or on short tenure positions. Whenever father came home, he would take me along while going for his afternoon nap. By the time of four, or even earlier, I had lost the habit of sleeping in the afternoon. Guess young children fear losing out on fun by sleeping-they fall asleep only when they can't help it anymore.

This was one of those times when father was home. I had acquired this huge tin that worked as some sort of drum. Don't remember if it had any resemblance to rhythm or music, but I was fond of playing with it. One day when father took me upstairs for the mandatory siesta, I decided I had enough of this spoilsport. I told him I wanted to pee and sneaked out. Within minutes I was on my drum, wreaking havoc to the ears of everyone around. I missed dad coming downstairs. He arrived noiselessly behind me, gave one nice tight whack and dragged me upstairs.

The surprise hurt more than the spanking. But I was too proud to cry,that too in front of my dad. I tore to shreds all that I could lay my hands on, lying there and fuming. From the corner of my eyes I could see dad watching and smiling.

I didn't go near him for the rest of the afternoon. In the evening father beckoned me, made me sit on his lap and asked "it hurt, huh?"