A Bored Story

Of the many additional responsibilities a single mother has to cater to, willingly, and on most times, much unwillingly -- are slippery things as decisions -- which could alter the daughter's lifeline. But we are not going to discuss such somber issues. A single mom is also, most times than not, on the uneven scale of whether to pamper or punish. This too, I shall not elaborate upon. With the onslaught of vacations, perhaps the greatest threat is to counter the daughter's "Momieeeee, I am boreddddd! What to do?" Right, what do mothers do? Maybe send her to the aunt or uncle's, or grandparents'. But with the many baggage that a single mother pushes into the loft, one certainly is an ego, that which came from disowning her decision, of disapproval, and hence sending away the daughter to a family vacation, for now, is out of question. So, I thought, I will write her yet another story, maybe build a structure which asks for her participation for the plot to proceed. I try:


"What are you?" asked a scratched Black Board, to a shining new white one.

"Why" replied the White Board rather sharply, "I am a board!"

"Ya, and I am Jerry!"

The White Board was thinking that the Black was definitely out of its mind. "Well, hi Jerry, but I do not have a name, like yours."

The Black Board was convinced that the White Board was a dull person, who was unable to grab its intelligence. "May I ask the reason why you are here, then?"

This time the White Board was convinced that the Black Board was definitely ageing. "Just the same reason as you, Jerry. To be written upon."

"Really?" chirped Black Board. And with profound gravity, added, "And who are your buddies?" indicating a box full of coloured chalks as its soulmates.

Daintily, the White Board showed off a duster which held two markers, black and blue. It next pointed towards another, with red and green.

It was now time for Black Board to be concerned, very concerned. It thought, ah! so it has come prepared with allies and all! Putting up a brave face, trying to cover the dark feelings, it asked, "Well. Lets see who gets bored first!"

"Why the heck would I get bored?" asked White Board.

Walking up to it, Black Board aimed at its polished finesse and said, observantly, "I see you have no Memories. If you see, I have them in plenty."

White Board was completely puzzled. "Memories?"

"Memories" said Black Board authoritatively. "Look at you shining white, without a trace of anything ever been written on you. You have no history." It paused deliberately, giving chance to the White Board to take a glance at itself. "Look at me carefully. Even when I am dusted, traces of jokes and theorems, geometry and sentences remain." Black Board was almost dancing in his mind. "I am never bored. I play with Memories." And finally, with an adept sweep towards its corner, it asked in a shrill voice, "Where are yours?" It laughed a deep laugh of victory, "Erased, eh?"

Poor White Board was uncertain of what to respond. It still could not decide if Jerry was insane, or was it doing all this purposefully to drive it crazy with boredom. "Fine. I have no Memories. But what's the big deal about creating some now, at this Moment?"

"Well" the Black Board now snapped his fingers and inquired, "and how would you do it?"

"Jerry! You live with Memories, I live in Moments! There is nothing to be bored! Grow up."

Black Board was visibly edged and his scratches no longer shone on him like an ornament. It quite admired the cleanliness of White Board. Thoughtfully, he resigned, "You are correct you know, lets not get bored by creating more Memories in this Moment."

And thus, the Boards became the ultimate instrument of defeating being Bored. Years later, Soft Board joined them too, as did Hard Board. Together, they offer us a treasure of Memories built in the garden of Moments, and the more one indulges, the more one take to their open-armed friendliness. Embrace yours!


I have in store a set of Boards bought in for my daughter today -- Black, White, Hard, Soft. Some to scribble on, some to erase from. Some to stick on, some to pin upon. And, truly speaking, to save me from the embarrassment of being unable to answer her, innovatively, each time she declares, "I am Booored, Momie!" I have the ready answer, "Bored? With the Board?" And trust me you, such a joy it indeed is, such tremendous relief of a joy, to see the bulb in her light up on her face, glow in her eyes, as she takes off with immediate speed towards the Boards. Did anyone say anything about being Bored?