Storm in a tea cup

Illustration/Uday Mohite

Papa Toofan unhappily threw down his newspaper, "The Hurricane Herald."

"Katrina," he yelled out to his wife, "Thundering typhoons, wake up our son, we are the laughing stock of the natural disaster world."

"Nisarga is suffering from depression," his wife justified.

"Low or high?" Toofan asked.

"I don't know. Ask him yourself. Though, right now he's asleep," Katrina answered.

Papa Toofan swirled agitatedly around the room. "Do you know how damaging this is for the family name? My condescending bhaiyya is making fun of us on the family Whatsapp group! He's boasting that our nephew, his son Amphan made his solo 'flight' into Kolkata and wreaked havoc!"

"Listen. Our son isn't vicious like Amphan, or his sister Fani. To me, he did well in his maiden journey, even if he never reached Mumbai. Come on. Relax. Even you were not successful when you first tried to landfall over the city."

"What rubbish you talk woman...!"

"How short you memory is, Toofan. In 1976, under the name of Cyclone Gabbar, you weakened before Raigad. In 1986, as Cyclone Mona Darling, you were a damp squib. Give your son a break. Your favourite other son wasn't so successful either in 2018."

"Vayu was depressed last year. Those damn tablets he was on. He assured me 'Dad, I'll do you proud'. How did I know he'd change his mind and unload off the coast of Gujarat?" Toofan said sadly.

Finally, Nisarga opened one eye. Seeing this, his dad was on him like a twister.

"You idiot! Please explain to me your poor performance on Wednesday afternoon!"

"Chill dude, you need to relax," Nisarga told his father.

"Don't you dare tell me to relax. Do you know how much publicity was done for your debut deluge? Our social media team built the whole story up. Mumbaikars were terrified. People were evacuated. The fact that you were to be the first massive cylone in 139 years, and you went and botched it up."

"Whatever! Just because, you never hit it big time, don't try and…," Nisarga began, angrily.

Katrina interrupted a major father-son tornado.

She took her son to the adjoining cloud, offered him a prawn koliwada and said, "Beta this was a launchpad for you. The equivalent of a Bollywood debut, what Rakesh Roshan did for Hrithik in Kaho Na Pyaar Hai. Kya hua?" Katrina asked.

"Mom! I know I can never live up to your expectations, the first Indian to ever landfall in the USA..."

"So, what prompted you not to enter Mumbai city? I know your girlfriend lives in Pali Hill, Bandra. Was it romance that prevented you from landfalling in Mumbai? Apparently, you even marked yourself 'safe' on Facebook."

"No!" said Nisarga, a tad sheepishly.

"Talk to me, son, your secret stays with me."

"COVID-19," he said cryptically.

"What?" his mother asked.

"I'm terrified of getting the virus, mom. Mumbai reported 1,000 cases on Wednesday. There are no hospital beds available, and the lockdown has been extended to June 30. Catch me going into Mumbai, no way!" Nisarga concluded.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com

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