While the world was working up a frenzy about vaccinations, I was dreaming. About haircuts. Almost obsessively. I hate hair in my eyes. And this was Month 5 of Lockdown 2.

My dream was shattered. By the son. Who else? ‘We have to get Amma and Appa vaccinated.’ His tone was urgent, almost shrill. Unnaturally so. For this is a child who let the sea in Goa take away his spectacles with utmost equanimity. And spent the next two days half-blind.

The husband jumped into the conversation. Also urgent, shrill. Nothing new there. They traversed the route of online registration, which hospital was best, should Amma and Appa take it in turns in case one of them had any side-effects, etc., etc. Don’t get me wrong. I am a fairly filial, if bossy, daughter. I knew my turn would come. No point wasting my breath right away.

And how right I was. For all these plans had to be revealed to Amma. Appa is cool that way, he will just follow instructions on most things. Amma is a different kettle of fish. I could hear her voice dwindling in fear as instructions poured over her head in a conference call. There was just enough voice left by the end of it to wail, ‘Injection?’

Amma is phobic about injections. This is a Jain family fun fact. Also, the phobia is mostly psychological in nature. So every injection is prefaced with some moans, some hand-wringing, some OMGs. Of the old-fashioned ‘why is this happening to me’ kind. And then she gets on with it.

My role in the family is that of bossy woman whom no one can abide. So I stepped up to the plate. ‘Don’t be silly!’ I said briskly. ‘It’s just an injection, nothing to carry on about.’

‘But an injection!’

‘You know it has to be done.’ From the husband, the eternal pacifier. ‘It’ll be okay.’ From the son. The paternal genes are strong there.

‘But the needle?! Will it be a very big needle?’

Time for intervention. ‘Stop moaning, Amma,’ I said impatiently. ‘It’s got to be done, so get it done.’

A few days later, the vaccination appointments had been booked. Online by the son. We huddled together once again on how to break the news to Amma, what precautions, order in food or cook in advance in case she had side-effects, etc., etc.

And the next day we made another conference call. It was the day after the Harry-Meghan interview, so the husband was half an eye off course.

Amma sounded unnaturally bright and chirpy. ‘How did you know?’ she demanded almost immediately.

‘We called to tell you we’ve booked your vaccination appointments…’ the son had already begun on our rehearsed route. ‘Wait… what? What do we know?’

‘That I got my vaccination today? The neighbour said EC Hospital was offering it. So I went with Ajoy and got it done.’ Ajoy being a very helpful – and very long-suffering – family friend who’s made it his mission in life to rescue Amma from disasters.

Gobsmacked silence ensued. It was a record for the Jain family.

Did I tell you Amma was also good at throwing googlies?