The Nightdress Brigade & the St. Joseph’s High School Trip
…you may never have heard about this duo of 2 heroic gals before, but after this post, their names will be all over town.
They are…..
…..the Nightdress Brigade.
.....a duo of sisters who are so quick to respond to an emergency (imagined or real)….there’s not enough time to get all fancy in red and blue, silver or black like your favorite big screen or Marvel comics heroes.
They will fly to your rescue in their nightdresses.
Here’s the tale of their first escapade…..
The Nightdress Brigade & the St. Joseph’s High School Trip
It’s a balmy Bangalore night and dusk has just fallen.
Two sisters in their nightdresses are fussing over their little brother (he will always be little to them). The brother is finishing the last of his packing to go on a 10 day trip with his school to Kashmir in the northern most point of India.
“There, all done” says the brother, zipping up his suitcase. “I will go and get the auto.”
(The auto, for those who have never visited India, is a mode of Indian public transport that’s motorized, open sided, 3-wheeled and will put the Indiana Jones Adventure ride at Disneyland to shade for scaring the living daylights out of you. )
Back to our story…
The brother comes back in the auto, loads his luggage and kisses the 2 sisters and his Mum goodbye.
The sisters wave at the auto until it is out of sight.
Back inside the house, Rosie, the older of the sisters, says:
“Oh, let’s read the note”.
“What note?” asks the younger one, Minoo.
“The one he gave to me and said we should read only after he has left”.
“Really?” says the one called Minoo, not without some concern.
Rosie opens the note, goes pale and exclaims “Minoo!”
“What? What? What does it say?” says Minoo.
She grabs the note from Rosie.
On it are these ominous words “Dear Rosie and Minoo, I am going to be gone for a long time – perhaps forever. Bye….your loving brother, David”.
“We have to go after him” declares Rosie, “come on, there’s no time to lose”.
She grabs her purse and they set off from the house, Rosie and Minoo, in their nightdresses and rubber chappals, to get an auto.
“Residency Road – St Joseph’s School – jaldi, jaldi ” they say as they find an auto and jump into it.
Auto-rickshaw drivers are a quirky breed.
When you want them to go fast, they go slow. When you want them to go slow, they go fast…..so there is really no way to control the speed with which the daring duo will arrive at the school.
When the auto pulls up at the school, alas, they discover they are too late. Their dear brother's bus has already left for Cantonment Railway Station.
"We have to go to Cantonment", declares Rosie. The autorickshaw driver is now directed by her to go to Cantonment Railway Station.
“Jaldi, Jaldi, bhaiya” they say along the way to him. All this does is to provoke some sarcastic remarks in Hindi from him when he is not spitting gobs of red paan (the next time you go to an Indian restaurant, ask about paan) from the auto out onto the road.
At Cantonment Railway Station, they jump out and pay the autorickshaw driver. He knows they are in a hurry and claims to not have enough change to give them. There’s no time to be lost, so they allow themselves to be short-changed and rush into the station.
All along the platform where the train their brother is in is minutes away from departing, are elegantly dressed parents (those who drove their kids to the station in their cars) bidding goodbye to their progeny (a Mangalorean cannot resist big words, remember).
They are of course startled by the appearance of the Nightdress Brigade.
But the Nightdress Brigade is undeterred.
They go from window to window of each train compartment, peeking through the bars and saying “Is David Lobo here? Is David Lobo here?”.
The commotion they are causing is transferred down the line and David is alerted that "two chicks in nightdresses" are urgently looking for him.
He comes out on to the platform and shouts to the sisters “hey, what’s up?”
Rosie flashes the note at him “we were worried. It said we won’t see you again”
He laughs “My! It was a joke. I am so sorry”
The train horn sounds.
“I got to go,” he says “see you in 10 days” and jumps back into the train.
A huge wave of relief comes over the Nightdress Brigade.
Emergency over, they wave to him as the train leaves, all the onlookers looking at them in total bewilderment.
Back home, they have a hearty laugh about their escapade.
Would they ever do this again?
You bet!
It’s not for nothing they are called the Nightdress Brigade and I have at least one other story to tell.
But I’ll save that for another day.
P.S. Bet you have your own Nightdress Brigade stories to tell. Do share them for the rest of the readers.
P.S. 2: When I spoke to David about this story the other day, he said the seniors on the trip gave him preferential treatment after spotting us that night – in the hope of getting an “intro” to us. I can hardly believe this – given our granny nightdress attires – but I’ll take the compliment. Thanks David!
P.S. 3: Cantonment Railway station is mentioned in the Oh Bangalore series of posts by Ajay Sachdev, which you can read here, here and here.
P.S. 4: As always, thanks for reading and hope you visit again soon.
Step aside Spiderman, Wonder Woman, Iron Man, Storm, Invisible Girl….
…you may never have heard about this duo of 2 heroic gals before, but after this post, their names will be all over town.
They are…..
…..the Nightdress Brigade.
.....a duo of sisters who are so quick to respond to an emergency (imagined or real)….there’s not enough time to get all fancy in red and blue, silver or black like your favorite big screen or Marvel comics heroes.
They will fly to your rescue in their nightdresses.
Here’s the tale of their first escapade…..
The Nightdress Brigade & the St. Joseph’s High School Trip
It’s a balmy Bangalore night and dusk has just fallen.
Two sisters in their nightdresses are fussing over their little brother (he will always be little to them). The brother is finishing the last of his packing to go on a 10 day trip with his school to Kashmir in the northern most point of India.
“There, all done” says the brother, zipping up his suitcase. “I will go and get the auto.”
(The auto, for those who have never visited India, is a mode of Indian public transport that’s motorized, open sided, 3-wheeled and will put the Indiana Jones Adventure ride at Disneyland to shade for scaring the living daylights out of you. )
Back to our story…
The brother comes back in the auto, loads his luggage and kisses the 2 sisters and his Mum goodbye.
The sisters wave at the auto until it is out of sight.
Back inside the house, Rosie, the older of the sisters, says:
“Oh, let’s read the note”.
“What note?” asks the younger one, Minoo.
“The one he gave to me and said we should read only after he has left”.
“Really?” says the one called Minoo, not without some concern.
Rosie opens the note, goes pale and exclaims “Minoo!”
“What? What? What does it say?” says Minoo.
She grabs the note from Rosie.
On it are these ominous words “Dear Rosie and Minoo, I am going to be gone for a long time – perhaps forever. Bye….your loving brother, David”.
“We have to go after him” declares Rosie, “come on, there’s no time to lose”.
She grabs her purse and they set off from the house, Rosie and Minoo, in their nightdresses and rubber chappals, to get an auto.
“Residency Road – St Joseph’s School – jaldi, jaldi ” they say as they find an auto and jump into it.
Auto-rickshaw drivers are a quirky breed.
When you want them to go fast, they go slow. When you want them to go slow, they go fast…..so there is really no way to control the speed with which the daring duo will arrive at the school.
When the auto pulls up at the school, alas, they discover they are too late. Their dear brother's bus has already left for Cantonment Railway Station.
"We have to go to Cantonment", declares Rosie. The autorickshaw driver is now directed by her to go to Cantonment Railway Station.
“Jaldi, Jaldi, bhaiya” they say along the way to him. All this does is to provoke some sarcastic remarks in Hindi from him when he is not spitting gobs of red paan (the next time you go to an Indian restaurant, ask about paan) from the auto out onto the road.
At Cantonment Railway Station, they jump out and pay the autorickshaw driver. He knows they are in a hurry and claims to not have enough change to give them. There’s no time to be lost, so they allow themselves to be short-changed and rush into the station.
All along the platform where the train their brother is in is minutes away from departing, are elegantly dressed parents (those who drove their kids to the station in their cars) bidding goodbye to their progeny (a Mangalorean cannot resist big words, remember).
They are of course startled by the appearance of the Nightdress Brigade.
But the Nightdress Brigade is undeterred.
They go from window to window of each train compartment, peeking through the bars and saying “Is David Lobo here? Is David Lobo here?”.
The commotion they are causing is transferred down the line and David is alerted that "two chicks in nightdresses" are urgently looking for him.
He comes out on to the platform and shouts to the sisters “hey, what’s up?”
Rosie flashes the note at him “we were worried. It said we won’t see you again”
He laughs “My! It was a joke. I am so sorry”
The train horn sounds.
“I got to go,” he says “see you in 10 days” and jumps back into the train.
A huge wave of relief comes over the Nightdress Brigade.
Emergency over, they wave to him as the train leaves, all the onlookers looking at them in total bewilderment.
Back home, they have a hearty laugh about their escapade.
Would they ever do this again?
You bet!
It’s not for nothing they are called the Nightdress Brigade and I have at least one other story to tell.
But I’ll save that for another day.
P.S. Bet you have your own Nightdress Brigade stories to tell. Do share them for the rest of the readers.
P.S. 2: When I spoke to David about this story the other day, he said the seniors on the trip gave him preferential treatment after spotting us that night – in the hope of getting an “intro” to us. I can hardly believe this – given our granny nightdress attires – but I’ll take the compliment. Thanks David!
P.S. 3: Cantonment Railway station is mentioned in the Oh Bangalore series of posts by Ajay Sachdev, which you can read here, here and here.
P.S. 4: As always, thanks for reading and hope you visit again soon.
3 comments:
Hilarious, Minoo! But I'm wondering if you ever devised a plan to get back at David?
If not, its never too late to start...remember, the female of the species.....
Lol!
May I know the pattern of the nightdress?
More than the chase,the dress you wore has made me break my head..
Bengalooru has seen mothers drop their kids to school in their nighties.Women shopping in neighbourhood in their nighties.
Was it a pair of pyjamas and short tunics/
Long sarong /satin long skirt with a satin shrug/Long or short camisole set/ night gown/ kaftan?
Now a days salwar kurtha without a duppata or any dress I wear at home other than a saree is referred to as a night dress by my kith and kin ( foreign citizens).They ask me "why have you posed in your night dress?" So,dear Minoo tell me the model of your night dress...
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