Ever heard of a camerawoman getting hit on the head by a helicopter while she is shooting? Just because I pan to the squealing in delight kid, while papa flies the chopper without a license. The kids eyes widen in the camera's window, as the object bangs my head.
And then the helicopter's wings get entangled in my hair. I am left holding the camera, the helicopter dangling from my hair, while both father and son double up laughing.
'Help me to untangle my hair!' I yell.
'I cant. We will have to cut it. Pavan, get the scissors!' he says.
'You dare not cut my hair!'
'Its only a few strands, Mango. The helicopters wings have wound up the hair badly. Its impossible to untangle!'
'How, Papa? Because the wings went round and round?'
'Because your father doesn't know how to fly a plane without banging in someone's head!'
'Here, I found the scissors. Shall I cut ?' He asks me without a trace of guilt. Or shame. In fact, he is trying not to sound gleeful.
'If you can shut up for a minute, all it requires is a little patience.' I struggle with my hair, pulling the helicopter, entangling it further.
'Ok, you cut.' says my loving husband.
'Yes, Ai, you only cut your hair.' Boys! They will never understand what hair means to a woman.
'I shall cut off these wings of your precious chopper!' I threaten.
'Aai! Please No! I have been waiting for this helicopter since so many years. Your hair will grow.'
'Yes, Mummy, your hair will grow.'
In face of this wisdom, the great sacrifice is made. Father and son untangle my hair from their precious helicopter, and I am left alone to moan the damage.
Now when I pass a mirror, and see the small tuft of hair sprouting out, I growl, 'Grow!'