pen.books.and.scalpel

“Come again, Nani. What did you just say?” I asked my Nani, who had already repeated it for us thrice. “That your Mumma has left for laapis already,” she repeated confidently, making me and my cousin roll on the floor, laughing.  “What’s a laapis, Nani? It’s called o-f-f-i-c-e.” My cousin corrected her while I was still holding onto my stomach to stop it from hurting from laughing so much.  “Yes, yes. Same thing.” She said unperturbed. She was definitely amused at how her grandkids were laughing their hearts out. My innocent Nani didn’t mind being the center of the joke at all. And for two twelve-year-brats, intimidating someone her age didn’t feel like an offence at all.  “And…and what’s the place called where you go when you fall sick?” I wanted to show my cousin that there’s more. “Opithal?” She asked, and another uproar of laughter reverberated in the air. “Opithal? Nani, that’s h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l.” I spoke between bouts of laughter.  “Yes, yes. Opitha...