LOC (Lines of Control)

I placed my hand in front of my face and stared at those funny lines that crisscrossed my palm. Are they really the ones which decide how your future will be? If so, which one of them got me into this current mess?

I stared and stared till all of it seemed to blur into confusion. Oh great!! Now even those lines are giving up. I mean, someone is responsible for all this mess. Its definitely not me.

So its either the lines on my palm or the letters in my name or my date of birth or the way the furniture is arranged in my room. Come to think of it, I don't have any furniture in my room. Its just me and the mattress on the floor where I sleep. So that could not be the cause. I love my date of birth. Really. I love the numbers in it and I am hundred percent positive that none of those numbers would do anything to hurt me. I am skeptical about my name. Its not one of my favorites. But it was the name given by my parents and I have faith that it wouldn't hurt me.

So the only plausible reason would be these lines. They don't have palmistry experts for no reason. I should get one of those guide books, with those catchy titles like 'Your future lies in your hands'. Then maybe these teeny weeny, criss-crossy, randomy lines would make sense.

A raised voice from the other end of the phone, ended my perusal of the lines. I tried to catch up with the conversation. My mother was trying to convince me that something was wrong with my sister.

I agree she is a little headstrong and something of a rebel. But she never does anything that can be termed as criminal offense.

For the past hour, I had been switching between calls to my sister and mother. Mom accuses and my sister denies. My sister would say something and Mom would find it unacceptable.

I thought of putting them in conference. But then that could lead to a disaster, so I refrained from that thought.

I knew my Mom was a little dramatic. And this time she was definitely going overboard.

Is it wrong to blow air? Literally just blowing air, is not sinful. Yeah I agree, my sister had rounded her lips and curled her tongue while blowing air. Due to some unknown law of physics, the end result was a whistle. My, my, isn't mother touchy about those shrill sounds.

In spite of repeated warnings my sister dared to whistle in front of my mother, hence the frantic calls. For my mother it was now or never. If she didn't take corrective action immediately, my sister may fall into the depths of doom. I tried to be level headed. But it was tough not to lose patience. My sister doesn't listen, nor does my mother. Why do they drag me into these arguments?

I drifted back to those lines. Please, please, please, cant one of you save me from this; I begged to my lined palms.

The drone of my mother's voice was being interrupted by the familiar beep-beep. I didn't check who the caller was. I knew it would be my sister. So why bother.

After few hours of slow and painful progress, I convinced Mom that my sister can still be saved. Not entirely satisfied, but tired of all the badgering she decided to take a break. I used those few moments to call my sister and give her the verdict. She was in trouble, but yes she could be saved. Call up Mom and apologize. She agreed reluctantly.

Few minutes later the phone rang again. The melodious ring-tone, specially meant for my family, sounded like a warning of imminent torture. I summoned patience; a lot of it and answered the call. "Darling", said my Mom. I couldn't believe it. Her voice sounded different. The reconciliation had happened. They were back to being Mom and favorite daughter.

Phew!!! I couldn't believe it. I looked at my palms and kissed those lines. I was saved. They had actually saved me.

My cubicle-mate gave me a strange look. I suppose kissing your own palms in a wild frenzy are not symptoms of sanity.

I smiled at him with sympathy. Poor fellow. What would he know about mothers, daughters and whistles? What would he know about palms, the innocent lines marking it and the story of how they saved me?