No, this is not one of those times. Could you tell?
You guys remember our noisy downstairs neighbours? (Of course you do. If I write about them any more they should really get their own tag on this blog.)
The most noise filtering (or echoing) up from them comes through the bathroom. Yes, we often hear them out in their balcony, but if we shut the windows and turn the TV up loud we don't have to listen to every nuance of the conversation. But if one (and usually more, but more about that later) is in the bathroom, and I am too, there is no escape (except for, of course, actually running out of the bathroom, which, let's face it, isn't always possible right away).
Poor little Cheeku seems to spend much of his life getting - or resisting - a bath, or getting - or resisting - his teeth brushed. Most often, of course, it's his mom, whose foghorn voice seems destined for greater things than out-shouting Cheeku on whether he needs to brush his teeth. (One past-time for me is thinking up alternative careers that would actually utilise her talents: so far I've come up with prison warden - for hardcore criminals, construction supervisor, and dominatrix.)
Cheeku's dad also helps him in the bathroom sometimes, and though his voice is quite as magnificent as his wife's, he is much gentler with his son and is almost a pleasure to listen to. (Almost, reader, being the key word.)
Then there's Cheeku's mama, who seems to visit for the primary purpose of helping Cheeku perform his morning ablutions. He is quite as loud as his sister, though his voice is high-pitched, and therefore, arguably less pleasing. He has also been known to sing Love me love me love me in the shower, loudly and off-key (which, for those of you who haven't heard it, was a traumatic experience).
Cheeku's nani is visiting now, and has been taking over the most important duty of the household, and spends her mornings alternating between instructing Cheeku in the bathroom and instructing her daughter out of it (though both these functions are, inexplicably, performed in the bathroom). Hearing her tells you where the NN got her magnificent voice from.
This is all background. The Guy and I were talking about this yesterday, and he said, "Cheeku toh mandir ki ghanti hai. Jo bhi aata hai nahla ke jaata hai."* Which is an absurd and meaningless little statement that made me double over with laughter.
*I'm not going to attempt to translate this. Any kind readers willing to try?
Cheeku's a temple bell. Anyone can walk in and (make him ring/ ring him) bathe him.
A friend of mine had written something similar, but in Marathi. You will need to ask for help in translation. It's hilarious if someone can explain it to you.
hahahhahaha amazing!!!! I just loved the last line
simplypallu: That's pretty accurate, though I'd argue it should read "Everyone walks in and..." rather than "Anyone can..."
Doli: Yeah, I know, the Guy is funnier than me. :(
And you guys, having to listen to all of it!
You're right. This translation was meant to be more inviting ;-)
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