The obedient rebel

My father was a school teacher. he taught mathematics. now he is retired, sleeps all day and when he is awake he spends time with his new love -Ramdev baba.

my mother has been busy all this while making our home perfect. now that my father is busy with Ramdev, she is putting all her efforts back in my life.

However this is not their story. not this time. this is about me again- 'the obedient rebel'.
back in the early 90's we lived in a small 'Barsati' set in one of delhi's village interiors. 'Barsati' s are single rooms built on terraces. it may or may not have a kitchen and would have the loo built at the strangest corner of the terrace. the concept cannot be mixed with the 'penthouse' concept. here the terrace is a public domain.
and in our case the terrace was more than a common space , it was uncommon- our landlady was a rich 'jat' widow, owned two buffaloes and a part of the terrace was used to dry buffalo dung cakes.

we had one room to live in which had to fit in a double bed, one almirah , my study table,a book case, one dressing table, and a BW television which was then a soothing balm to all our hardships.
the bed had to fit all three of us (for 6 years). the television sat at one corner of the room facing the bed so that one could watch it with comfort.
my father owned a National Panasonic stereo, my father's prized possesion and his only 'happy' entertainment. the Panasonic now lives with me and plays my morning dose of 'Radio Mirchi' everyday.

Those were also the times when there existed a distinct 'parallel cinema' line more commonly called the 'art films'. some days in the week these were featured on late night television. my mother was crazy about Naseerudin Shah, Deepti Naval and Smita Patil and i never questioned why they were so special.( though at one time smita patil became very special to me because people said my mother looked like her.. till date i never havent found any similarity though.) However these films were, according to her, were meant for adults and i was not to see them.
The days they would show these films an arrangement was made. There would be quick dinner, quick homework, and i was to fall asleep quick! quick! quick!.
But i would stay wide awake willfuly on some days. My staying awake would depend on a few factors.
1. If my mother had been rattling about the story since days
2. If my mother was insisting too much about the film having adult scenes
3. My father speaking about the film( he hates films)

these 'film days' i was shoved to the farther end of the bed, towards the wall, to sleep. my mother sat right in front of my face blocking the TV screen and my dad either took a chair or sat beside my mother.then came the challenge, that was to pretend im sleeping, and yet slowly crawl to a position from where i can watch the TV from under the sheets.
trust me i watched many a films like that.
Few of which i remember are- Sharth, Mirch Masala, Devshishu, Mandi, Aarth, Ghairey Baire, Trishagni and an english film called-Escape from Sobibor.i also watched many episodes of Derek-the detective, from under the sheets.
One could say i baptised myself well...

i have watched some of these films again and again after i came to know what they were all about.

but i wonder about the woman who was so crazy about those films. what she bore in her heart when she watched them. probably she wished for a 'rebel', but had no clue that one was growing up obediently in her home.