The siesta busters

There's nothing like a post-lunch siesta to revitalise one. Few, however, really get to enjoy it 8212; thanks to a combination of perverse ...

There8217;s nothing like a post-lunch siesta to revitalise one. Few, however, really get to enjoy it 8212; thanks to a combination of perverse circumstances that conspire to ruin it. For me, the bliss of an undisturbed catnap is still an elusive luxury.

One of the easiest ways to wake a baby, I8217;ve learnt, is to go to sleep. As a bachelor, the moment I started nodding off after lunch, the little brat next door 8212; snoozing cherubically till then 8212; would wake up and begin squalling for all he was worth. And then his equally loud-mouthed mother would try to yodel him back to sleep most unmelodiously, banishing my forty winks.

Later it was the banshee wailing of the pig-tailed young hopefuls learning the basics of Carnatic music in the house opposite us that kept me fuming rather than napping. Or the neighbour8217;s dog, a real sleep-killer, barking its head off at a beggar who would then invariably turn up at my door and whine away any remnants of my drowsiness. Or sometimes it was the high-pitched and persistent caterwauling of a neighbourhood cat confronted by an intruder in its territory. Believe me, nothing can be more unsoporific than a screaming feline.

Now in retirement, I8217;m still dogged by similar irritants. Often my neighbour8217;s motley collection of fowls are the bane of my nap. Something scares them, sparking off a chain-reaction of agitated squawking and clucking that rises to a maddening crescendo capable of awakening the dead. Sometimes I wish I could wring their necks then and there.

Or it8217;s one of my neighbours who, for want of anything better to do, rings the door-bell when I8217;m blissfully purring away after lunch. Seeing me bleary-eyed, he unregretfully asks, 8220;Did I disturb you?8221; I8217;m tempted to retort that even an earthquake measuring 10 on the Richter scale couldn8217;t have done better, but refrain from doing so for the sake of good relations.

When it8217;s not the telephone, it8217;s a salesman hell-bent on foisting some knick-knack on me. And, thanks to Murphy8217;s Law, his intrusion usually synchronises with my nap 8212; seldom before or after.

The other day, to ensure an undisturbed siesta, I disconnected the door bell as well as the telephone before hitting the sack. A little later persistent thumping on the door jolted me awake. Muttering an imprecation, I opened the door to find a beaming salesman. 8220;Good afternoon, sir!8221; he greeted me effusively. 8220;Your door bell doesn8217;t appear to be working. Perhaps you8217;ll be interested in a more reliable model like the one I have?8221;

Hereafter, I8217;m going to nap wearing earplugs.