Kishore Singh: Accommodating the extras

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Ours isn't a large apartment by any measure, but most times we get by. The children have a bedroom each, and though the live-in cook is incapacitated in not having an attached servant's quarter, she's accommodated in a neighbouring flat that belongs to a cousin who doesn't stay in Delhi.

However, summer imposes special pressures, since everyone thinks the heat is a good reason to leave their homes and escape to Delhi, quite forgetting how hot the capital can get. And, given that we've entered peak summer, the exodus to Delhi too seems to have begun.

The first to arrive were my parents (for a moment it was a toss-up between them and my in-laws, but in the end my wife's parents decided to plumb for their son and Mumbai instead of their son-in-law and Delhi, which was fine by me), and the first to be evicted from her bedroom was my daughter. The next to come calling was my sister and her boys (out went my son from his room).

We now had a situation where all three bedrooms in our apartment were occupied, but we still had a surplus of people to be accommodated. These included a son (ours), a daughter (also ours), two more sons (my sister's), in addition, of course, to the cook.

Ideally, it should not have been a problem, since we did have another three bedrooms in the neighbouring block, but since the cook already occupied one, we were reduced to a strength of two. In most circumstances, this would have been ideal, for the three boys could camp in one room, the girl in another.

But that was before our son decided that he would have a small dance party for his friends in that apartment, for which he took "possession" of the apartment for a few days.

Since "small" for him was "70 close friends", we found that of the two remaining bedrooms, one was turned into a sitting room ("You don't expect us to dance in a room full of furniture," he'd protested, when removing the sofas from the living room.) The remaining bedroom was turned into storage space (spare furniture, beds, mattresses, artworks).

Which left us with where we'd started: four children with no rooms to spare. And since the party was expected to go on till early morning, or at least till irate residents used legal means at their disposal to order the music shut, the issue of where everyone would sleep took on alarming proportions.

Nor was this the end of our troubles, for coming all the way from Bangalore on his annual summer vacation with us was our cook's son. And while we could afford to annoy our guests (they were here temporarily), there was nothing we could do to annoy the cook (hopefully, a more permanent feature in our lives). Therefore, the cook wasn't to be evicted from the bedroom under occupation by her.

Logically, the sleeping space could be rearranged after the party, but since it was likely to continue till quite late, it would have meant staying awake, then sweeping the floors, then dragging heavy furniture and mattresses around before laying the beds "" which no was ready to volunteer for. With no choice left to us, we've decided to offer the kids our bedroom, as long as they can all squeeze in.

Since my wife and I are loath (and are too old) to consider sleeping on the sofas (we could have asked the kids, but then my sister might crib that her sister-in-law was parsimonious with her hospitality), we'll either be up all night, or else knocking on the doors of our neighbours to be allowed in for the night. Someone's bound to let us in.