The benefits of a Powercut

This happened around the time when I had just started to work in the late 90's. I came home one Monday evening to find a distant cousin and his family from somewhere far away who had come visiting. I didn't remember having met them previously.
The cousin was working in a Gulf country and had the typical look of the men working there. Dark complexioned from working hard in the unforgiving desert sun, with a golden wrist watch, a thick golden chain around his neck, Gold ring, and a golden bracelet with his name written in golden letters-all of which stood out against his sun burnt skin, a bald head, a cream coloured silk shirt and trousers that were almost bell bottomed. His wife was dressed in the colourful soft saree material that used to be called American Georgette, again dripping with gold jewellery. Their only son about 5 years old, was dressed in a miniature version of what is called the Safari suit, of course with the golden bracelet and his name on it.
While apart from their dressing sense, the parents were decent enough themselves, their only son was a spoilt brat, spewing abuse at whoever stopped him from whatever mischief he wanted to do. Mischief was a mild word, the more apt one was destructive. He tried to climb on the glass topped coffee table, and when stopped, sat on it, threw stuff at the glass table and the glass shelves to hear the sound of objects hitting glass. His parents looked on indulgently all the while, without stopping him or saying a word. The evening passed off without too much damage with both my brother and I painfully fielding while the little monster's threw hard objects, Whatever he could lay his hands on, he threw. Since he was a guest to our home, we bore it with clenched teeth grins. Afterall it was just one evening, wasn't it?
Though we couldn't follow the discussions , the parting gave us a shocker."So, after you shift on Saturday, join us for dinner. You would be very tired". They were shifting home from wherever they were to cochin, and this may not be the last time we would have to put up with this monster!
The pain of the encounter subsided slightly the next day when our application to our parents to have a fish tank in the house was approved after many months of persuasion. We bought the fish tank on Wednesday, but couldn't find a table or any such convenient place to keep it. So, we placed an order with the neighborhood metal workshop chap who agreed to give us a proper stand for the fish tank by Monday. The fish tank was kept in a room near the rear of the house. Remembering on Saturday morning that the Monster was coming for dinner, as a precaution, we latched the door to the room where the fish tank was kept. Saturday evening the Monster came with his parents, had dinner and then all of us sat in the front hall listening to the wonders in the Arab country where my cousin worked. His tales were very exciting to us untravelled country bumpkins. From the time the family landed when it was starting to turn dark, till this point, my brother and I, were keeping an eagle eye on the little monster. Wherever he walked, one of us was with him the whole time. The parents must have thought we loved the little creep so much that we were not leaving him alone even for a moment.
In the hall the tales from the Gulf were told one by one, to us the thrilled audience. In a pause between 2 tales, my radar came on. The little monster was missing from the hall. My brother and I looked at each other and without a word he was off with me following quietly , without drawing attention to us.
We went room by room, but couldn't find him. In the last room where the fish tank was kept, the latch was open.. When we opened the door, we saw the little monster seated inside the dry fish tank trying to kick out the glass walls and break the asbestos floor of the tank. Though furious enough to smack him, we didn't say or do anything drastic to him , simply grabbed him on either side and carried him to the hall, kicking and screaming, throwing a tantrum. Once left loose in the hall, his tantrum switched off like magic. His mother asked him, what happened and he had the gall to say they won't let me play. My brother sat on the sofa next to our cousin- his father and our own father. My mother was sitting on the opposite side of the hall, on the sofa with his mother. The glass coffee table was in between. He grabbed the glass ash tray from the coffee table and stood eyeing me ready for his next adventure, ready to smash it on the glass coffee table. I stood legs crossed,leaning against the door frame about 4 Feet away from him in the doorway to the inner passage. He looked at me expectantly for a reaction while holding the ash tray over the table. I stood with a forced smile hoping he would be dissuaded if I appeared not concerned. My hope was misplaced. He dropped the glass ash tray onto the glass table, where it hit with a loud crack and bounced off. His mother made a slight clucking disapproving sound, and went back to the conversation. For a moment my fury flashed across my face, before I managed to hide it behind a forced smile. At that moment the power went off, and the house went completely black. The conversations carried on.
For about 10 or 15 seconds there was complete darkness. Then the power came back on. In that gap of complete darkness something happened to the little monster, perhaps a Drone strike, perhaps there were bolts of dark lightning. The power equation changed. When the lights came on, all of us were in the exact same positions as we were before the darkness. Mouth half open, ready to scream, he looked at my brother who was busy talking to his father. One by one he looked at each person, trying to gauge who was the cause behind the lightning strike. As his eyes regarded me, measuring the possibility of me being responsible, I ignored him completely and I could feel his eyes turning away. I was still 4 feet away, legs crossed, casually leaning against the door frame. As he started turning away, I looked at him. Our eyes met, and he knew I was somehow responsible, but the time to raise an alarm was past. I smiled at him. He didn't smile back.
Very quietly, he walked gingerly to his mother's side and stood there leaning on her leg. For the next one hour, he didn't sit or move from that position. Nor did he say a word. When they were leaving, though I said bye, he didn't say a word just a blank look, mouth half open.
After that night, his parents visited us many times, but he never did.

P. S: When my wife sometimes shares her frustration when some of her students turn destructive, and the teachers find it difficult to control them, 'cos they are not allowed to raise their voice or touch them, I suggest what she needs is me and a brief powercut.