Kishore Singh: Body clock blues

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At some time last night - or maybe it was early this morning "" when my daughter got up to solve a math problem, I had to remind her that the math paper was over. "I know," she said sadly, "but I knew the solution to problem number 12 that I got wrong, so I was just proving to myself that I did really know how to solve it." "It's all right," I said to her, "you must no longer fret over something that's done with, so go back to sleep." "I'm feeling hungry," she said instead, "maybe I'll get myself a snack." "I don't think you should," said my wife automatically, even though we thought she had been sleeping, "you're putting on weight with all that eating."

Just then, my son floated in like a zombie from his room. "Well, hello," I said, "good morning." "I think that," he said, "should be good night." "But it's," I peered at the clock, "4 o'clock in the morning." "Right," he said, "and I've been studying all night, and I think I'll go to sleep now." "Not before you've had dinner, or breakfast, or something to eat," said my wife from the bed, "you've been losing weight, and all because you've stopped eating."

I offered to make my son a snack, which he declined (but which my daughter offered to eat quite happily), because all he wanted to do was sleep. "But I have a tuition class in the morning, so may be you can wake me up at seven," he said.

Since my daughter was already up (and chomping on a burger), she decided she might as well start studying for her next paper, and because I was up too, I decided to keep her company with a book I was hoping to finish, and so we sat and read companionably till it was time to wake up her brother, who asked for another half-hour's snooze, and then the cook was getting breakfast organised for the children, but they didn't want any.

Not breakfast, at any rate.

"Maybe I should have a little dinner," said my son "" clearly, his internal clock was not keeping pace with GMT + 5 1/2 hours "" so the cook set to heating up the previous day's mutton curry and rice. But one look at it, and my son decided he didn't want it, and would eat on return from his class. "But you must get something to eat," said my wife, yawning from the bed. "It's all right, I'll have it," said my daughter, "since I'm feeling like lunch anyway."

Having polished off a substantial plate of curry and rice early in the morning, my daughter decided she needed a nap, and by the time I left for office, she was still asleep, though my son, returning from tuition, decided he'd have something to eat after all, provided it wasn't either fattening, or heavy, or contained calories.

Later, at lunchtime, calling from work, I was told my daughter was now up and having "dinner", but my son was asleep, but had asked to be woken up at teatime with a glass of juice. "I wish he'd eat," my wife sighed over the phone, "and she wouldn't."

By curious coincidence, both children were awake when I got home in the evening, and inclined to share a meal. "But I have a friend coming over for a drink," I told them, "so dinner might be a little late." "Dinner," they chorused, "that's so weird. At this time of night, if you don't mind, we'd rather have breakfast." And so, a couple of drinks later and the clock pointing to 11, we sat down over porridge and fried eggs. Oh well, I'll probably have dinner in the morning too!