The Boy who didn't like to Bathe

Gandhu Bandhu never liked to bathe.

Every time his mother yelled “It’s time for your bath Gandhu”

Gandhu ran.

And when Gandhu ran, his mother chased after him.

He ran over the bed and under tables, around chairs and in between lamps.

At first, his mother would be close behind his heels, she would stretch her hands and almost catch a bit of his shirt or a clump of his hair, then Gandhu ran faster and Amma got slower, till finally Gandhu escaped with a triumphant cry of victory.

Sometimes Amma tried something new, like lying in wait for Gandhu and pouncing on him when he least expected it.

At other times she tried to offer him sweets or bribes to make him have a bath.

If all failed, she scolded him or warned him about the wrath of his father to see him unbathed.

Mostly nothing worked. Gandhu merrily evaded all his mother’s ingenious efforts to entrap him.

Finally on the 23^rd of March it had been 12 days since Gandhu had his last bath.

A ripe odour clung to Gandhu, announcing his arrival wherever he went. Gandhu, fortunately or unfortunately, had a blocked nose so he couldn’t smell a thing and if anyone complained he went to Amma’s dressing table and sprayed on a liberal puff of her perfume.

But what Gandhu hadn’t realised is that along with the sharp odour, slowly this skin was disappearing under a thick layer of dirt. There was the mud from after playing football, a bit of the curry that had spilled from many lunches and dinners, some paint from that picture he had so beautifully painted.

So on the twelfth day of not bathing when he went to his Amma and asked her for lunch all she said was “Go home boy and ask your mother for food”. “Amma, YOU are my mother” said Gandhu but Amma just gave him a puzzled look, crinkled up her nose and walked off.

Then he went to his Grandpa in the garden and said, “Appu can you push me in the swing” and Appu said, “Who are you? This swing is only for residents of this building”. Appu was a retired Naval Officer and very strict about order and discipline so Gandhu didn’t want to risk asking him to peel off the dirt to reveal himself.

Gandhu was feeling sad now so he turned to the one person he know could cheer him up “Ammuma please tell me a story” he said to his grandmother. To his utter dismay she replied, “Little child who are you? Are you lost?”

Now in total despair Gandhu went running to his Dad who was just walking in from office, “Dad you recognize me don’t you, this is your son Gandhu.” Dad too crinkled up his nose and gave him a quizzical look. Gandhu? Is that you? Well it sounds like you but it doesn’t look like you. I can barely see your nose, or your eyes or your ears or anything at all actually.

“Dad what should I do? No one recognizes me, not even Ammuma.”

Dad thought for a while “Well there is one solution”

“Tell me, tell me” said Gandhu as he jumped up and down in a mixture of fear and excitement.

“We could try giving you a bath, but an ordinary bath just won’t work anymore. We will have to soak you for a bit in hot water and soap and then scrub you with a really big brush and end it with five minutes under the shower until we are absolutely sure that all the dirt is washed away”

“I only hope the skin doesn’t get washed away too” mumbled Dad as an afterthought

What followed was a lot of soaking, scrubbing, polishing and drying. Let me tell you it wasn’t the most enjoyable experience and a lot worse than if he had just had 12 baths in 12 days.

So the next time Amma said “It’s time for your bath Gandhu”

Gandhu said “Ok, Amma but I want my water pistols along” but that’s another story.