Returning home late from work, I could hear the racket even before I opened the door. Nischal's mom is quizzing Nischal on Hindi. His assignment is to put words of a jumbled sentence in the proper order.
"Nischal - you've written काला ('kaala' - black) wrong! You've split it up as का and ला ('kaa' and 'laa' )! The phrase should be 'काला गुलाब फूल' (Black rose flower) ! "
Now - that 'black rose' intrigued me. Not that I think Nischal's hindi teacher isn't poetic. But the rare times I 'help' him with homework, I compose hindi sentences and he quakes in fear. Apparently sentences like 'मेरे सर पे बन्दर बैठा है ' ( 'A monkey is sitting on my head' ) deepens his teacher's frown.
Another train of thought is Nischal's mom's hindi skills. She absolutely loves speaking in hindi, but friends firmly ask me to sign a 'No hindi by Anu' clause before they agree to come to our parties. People these days are way too health conscious, if you ask me.
So these two trains were on a collision course in my head and I had to wave the red flag.
"Maybe .." I ventured, but she cut me off with a wave of her long hand. She was already conquering the next sentence and dragging an unwilling Nischal behind her. He had given up already - mindlessly cycling through the 5P5 permutations : "है चाँद रात निकलता में "( 'Moon night comes out in') was his next try. Actually, hindi is such that most permutations would work. But he's a master at navigating through a minefield of proper answers.
But imminent train crashes do demand some persistence. I continued my frantic waving until the hindi professor took a breather.
" It's गुलाब का फूल ला (Get the rose flower) ", I said " the का and ला (kaa and laa) are separate ". Nischal was already dreaming about his post-ordeal plans. I don't think a 'Professor Nischal, Hindi Literature' plaque will ever grace our house. "Oh!", the mom smiled meanwhile. As usual, there was no guilt at murdering Hindi for the Nth time. A phrase from a Megadeath song came to mind
"And when you kill a man you're a murderer
Kill many and you're a conqueror
Kill them all and you're a God"
"Night at Moon comes" (में है रात चाँद निकलता) was Nischal's next attempt.That prompted the conqueror to turn back to her subject and her pursuit of divinity. So, I thought I'll try Nischal instead. "Nischal, what is the subject here in this sentence? "
Nischal looks at me, and after a small sigh he says patronizingly "Hindi"
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Saturday, January 14, 2017
On Ancestors and temples
"Your ancestor can't be a temple, Nischal!" boomed Anant's voice. Anant is Nischal's oldest buddy where we stay. He also has a throat that parade commanders would kill for. He whispers a mile away, we wake up with a start. And he's just 8. Soon, the world will be waking up with a start.
Maybe it was the wonky sentence, or Anant's voice.. I started paying attention. Nischal repeated his argument a couple more times, and then ran up to me. Anant and the other troops also followed.
"Pappa, isn't our ancestor a temple?" - his eyes full of confidence.
"Our ancestor is in a temple," I corrected " there's a small temple built for him inside a big temple, and his statue is in it". Since the keywords existed, that was enough for Nischal. Not so for his cohort. A noisy 'is a temple' vs 'in a temple' argument broke out until I convinced them to go chase a football instead.
Months passed, and it was early October. Dasara dolls had taken over my facebook feeds. My better half wasn't satisfied with draping just herself with silk sarees this time. She wanted to drape one around 'Smashaan Kaali'. The 'Smashaan Kali' or 'Kali of the cremation ground' temple is at Gokarna, our village on the Arabian sea coast. Only our extended family men have been priests here for as long as anybody remembers. Truth be told, my wife has been talking about draping Kali for many years now. So, we made the trip.
Gokarna is a temple town - Shiva, Kali and Ganesha being the main deities. There's also a Vishnu temple tucked in that I've gone to once in my 4 decades of existence. The 'Smashaan Kali' is at the end of the village - almost at the sea shore. The ground around is sandy and you can hear the sea. The sea breeze ruffles your hair as you walk past burning embers of a recently burnt body to see the goddess within. The goddess is surprisingly small in size, but fierce looking with good detail. For reasons I quite don't fathom, my wife finds her 'so cute'. I'm sure Kali would beg to differ, if she could chime in.
The main Kali temple is at the entrance of the village, and is called 'Bhadra Kali' - the guarding deity of the village. In those premises, in a small enclosure, stands a little statue of 'Jatga'(ಜಟಗ ) - pronounced 'JutGaa'. Our ancestral home is a few hundred feet from the Bhadra Kali temple.
As a kid, I spent many summers there, and my granny Kalyanamma had an evening ritual. Freshly bathed and in fresh saree worn traditional style, her eyes looking large & innocent in high-power spectacles, hands shaking and carefully preparing wicks and oil lamps. We kids would sometimes help her - I can still smell the oil and wick, and hear her clinking bangles. We also went with her to the Bhadra Kali temple, and watch her light lamps for Kali and 'Jatga'.
It was only in my teens I learnt that 'Jatga' was our ancestor, and much later I deciphered that to be the proper kannada word - 'Jattiga' ( ಜಟ್ಟಿಗ ) - a word stemming from 'Jatti' (ಜಟ್ಟಿ ) meaning 'Wrestler', 'Strong man' etc.
As a family tradition, 'Jatga' & 'Maasti katte' (more on that later) are remembered in every major festival. Before the ceremonies in the house start, we all visit there, offer flowers, break coconuts, light incense.. the whole pooja ritual. One person takes the role of spokesman, talks about projects/problems any other family members are facing, and asks for blessings. In the family, a visit to the village automatically means a couple of minutes with folded hands and closed eyes in these two places.
The night before our trip back, we decided to visit the Bhadra kali temple. The kids naturally preferred to worship the iPad goddess until I mentioned Mr. Jatga. Soon, the curious cats were walking to the beat of the rain, and the questions started flying.
Nischal: 'Why is Jatga in the temple?'
I : 'Jatga was a strong man who protected the village from attacks. He mostly died protecting the village in a glorious manner'.
Nischal: 'Glorious?'
I : 'I think he killed a lot of attackers, and stopped the attack..'
Nischal: 'How many did he kill?'
I : 'Don't know that, but the point is ... it was a big enough deal that they made a statue of him and put it in the temple'
Nischal was quiet for a while.. probably hearing the sounds of battle. The old rusty sword in the house was probably looking shiny and new in Jatga's hands. After visiting the goddess, we stomped over rainwater puddles to the little temple of Jatga. There was no light inside, and I used the phone's light to show the statue to the kids. They folded their hands and closed their eyes for a couple of minutes before heading back.
'Jatga has a wide nose.. like Ajji (grandma)', said Nischal with a faraway look.
'And a big head - like you' he added after some more observation. I would've given a lot more than a penny to see the movie he was seeing.
'A lot of our relatives have that too..' I remarked .. recalling a linkedin search I'd done a few years ago for the last name and finding many men with big heads and big shoulders. Not a pretty sight by far, but it felt good to feel that Jatga was still part of us. I real
ized I'd never observed the statue much all these years. It took a 7 year old to open my eyes. As kids, we all used to join in the laughter when dad made fun of mom's wide nose. For the first time, I felt a small twinge that I didn't have her wide nose.
Maybe my imagination, but the kids seemed to be walking straighter as we headed out of the temple.
Maybe it was the wonky sentence, or Anant's voice.. I started paying attention. Nischal repeated his argument a couple more times, and then ran up to me. Anant and the other troops also followed.
"Pappa, isn't our ancestor a temple?" - his eyes full of confidence.
"Our ancestor is in a temple," I corrected " there's a small temple built for him inside a big temple, and his statue is in it". Since the keywords existed, that was enough for Nischal. Not so for his cohort. A noisy 'is a temple' vs 'in a temple' argument broke out until I convinced them to go chase a football instead.
Months passed, and it was early October. Dasara dolls had taken over my facebook feeds. My better half wasn't satisfied with draping just herself with silk sarees this time. She wanted to drape one around 'Smashaan Kaali'. The 'Smashaan Kali' or 'Kali of the cremation ground' temple is at Gokarna, our village on the Arabian sea coast. Only our extended family men have been priests here for as long as anybody remembers. Truth be told, my wife has been talking about draping Kali for many years now. So, we made the trip.
Gokarna is a temple town - Shiva, Kali and Ganesha being the main deities. There's also a Vishnu temple tucked in that I've gone to once in my 4 decades of existence. The 'Smashaan Kali' is at the end of the village - almost at the sea shore. The ground around is sandy and you can hear the sea. The sea breeze ruffles your hair as you walk past burning embers of a recently burnt body to see the goddess within. The goddess is surprisingly small in size, but fierce looking with good detail. For reasons I quite don't fathom, my wife finds her 'so cute'. I'm sure Kali would beg to differ, if she could chime in.
The main Kali temple is at the entrance of the village, and is called 'Bhadra Kali' - the guarding deity of the village. In those premises, in a small enclosure, stands a little statue of 'Jatga'(ಜಟಗ ) - pronounced 'JutGaa'. Our ancestral home is a few hundred feet from the Bhadra Kali temple.
As a kid, I spent many summers there, and my granny Kalyanamma had an evening ritual. Freshly bathed and in fresh saree worn traditional style, her eyes looking large & innocent in high-power spectacles, hands shaking and carefully preparing wicks and oil lamps. We kids would sometimes help her - I can still smell the oil and wick, and hear her clinking bangles. We also went with her to the Bhadra Kali temple, and watch her light lamps for Kali and 'Jatga'.
It was only in my teens I learnt that 'Jatga' was our ancestor, and much later I deciphered that to be the proper kannada word - 'Jattiga' ( ಜಟ್ಟಿಗ ) - a word stemming from 'Jatti' (ಜಟ್ಟಿ ) meaning 'Wrestler', 'Strong man' etc.
As a family tradition, 'Jatga' & 'Maasti katte' (more on that later) are remembered in every major festival. Before the ceremonies in the house start, we all visit there, offer flowers, break coconuts, light incense.. the whole pooja ritual. One person takes the role of spokesman, talks about projects/problems any other family members are facing, and asks for blessings. In the family, a visit to the village automatically means a couple of minutes with folded hands and closed eyes in these two places.
The night before our trip back, we decided to visit the Bhadra kali temple. The kids naturally preferred to worship the iPad goddess until I mentioned Mr. Jatga. Soon, the curious cats were walking to the beat of the rain, and the questions started flying.
Nischal: 'Why is Jatga in the temple?'
I : 'Jatga was a strong man who protected the village from attacks. He mostly died protecting the village in a glorious manner'.
Nischal: 'Glorious?'
I : 'I think he killed a lot of attackers, and stopped the attack..'
Nischal: 'How many did he kill?'
I : 'Don't know that, but the point is ... it was a big enough deal that they made a statue of him and put it in the temple'
Nischal was quiet for a while.. probably hearing the sounds of battle. The old rusty sword in the house was probably looking shiny and new in Jatga's hands. After visiting the goddess, we stomped over rainwater puddles to the little temple of Jatga. There was no light inside, and I used the phone's light to show the statue to the kids. They folded their hands and closed their eyes for a couple of minutes before heading back.
'And a big head - like you' he added after some more observation. I would've given a lot more than a penny to see the movie he was seeing.
'A lot of our relatives have that too..' I remarked .. recalling a linkedin search I'd done a few years ago for the last name and finding many men with big heads and big shoulders. Not a pretty sight by far, but it felt good to feel that Jatga was still part of us. I real
Maybe my imagination, but the kids seemed to be walking straighter as we headed out of the temple.
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Everlasting conversations
Nischal is bored, and unwell - not being allowed to go run around with his buddies. I blurt out without thinking "Do you want to come to the office?". The phrase barely left my mouth, and his mom pounces on it faster than a leopard on a wounded bunny. In a couple of minutes he's walking with me - drawing book, pencils and stuff in hand.
I'm still recovering from a dengue-like virus - my walk is more of a panda's shuffle. After a couple of rounds of running ahead and coming back to me, he decides to walk with the panda. The questions start to fly.
"Pappa, is it true that if you do something very good and die, you will become a God?"
These days, I think teaching religion to young kids is pretty harmful. So, I counter:
"If you do something very, very good to people, they'll treat you like God?"
"Do you need to die to be treated as God? " comes the next rapid-fire question.
"Not really" I say, "but some people take so much effort doing good stuff that they die from it"
A few moments pass.
"Pappa, if you do bad things, you'll go to hell.. right? ..and heaven if you do good?"
" I don't know. People say that, but none have seen heaven or hell ", I say.
"Ajja (grandpa) has seen heaven, I'm sure" he says.
"Maybe, but he's not come back to tell us that, has he?" I reply.
"No.. " comes the reply grudgingly.
I pounce on that pause: "Do you feel good when you do something bad to somebody? Or rather, when you do something good to people, don't you feel good? "
"Yes, I do... and I am very careful. I don't do bad things" he says. My eyeballs nearly slip out through the corners. But I continue
"So, that is enough for you to do good things? Do you need heaven or hell? " I ask. He nods in agreement.
We get to the car by then. The next round of fire starts as we drive out of the gate.
"Why don't we have everlasting life?"
I'm sure that is intended to impress. I don't smile in surprise, or react to the usage. His mom - would stop the car, get on the hood and do a dance number in celebration. Instead, I go ahead with my trap: "Should people keep on being born, and not die?" I ask( he nods ), "then won't the earth get so full of people that there won't be any standing room? "
His eyes widen in realization of the problem. I push further. "What about food? What happens once they eat up all the plants and animals on earth? Will everlasting people live without food?"
He spends a few seconds thinking if everlasting beings can die if they don't eat.
"How about making plants also everlasting?"
"Many a time, we eat the whole plant - like the coriander you love in your daal? Can a plant be everlasting after it's eaten whole?" I ask.
The car is silent for a few seconds. I then break his rumination : "You know, your Ajja is still alive in a way". That perks him up.
"Our bodies have small things called 'genes'. They decide how you look, whether your eyes are like your dad's, how tall you will grow, how smart you'll be.. etc. These genes come inside you from either your dad or your mom."
His face is still blank. I connect the dots some more.. " So, I have genes from Ajja/ Ajji, and you have some of those same genes along with your Amma's. That's why you look like me in some ways, and like Amma in some other ways. So, you're also carrying your Ajja's & Ajji's genes. So, you have some part of your Pappa, Amma, Ajji & Ajja inside you and will have them even after they die."
His eyes widen in amazement at the thought. He takes a second look at himself and smiles.
I push further "So, when you get married & have kids, and although I'll get old and die, I will still be in your kids.." - I stop when I'm faced with his authoritative little palm.
"I'm not planning to get married. I hate girls" he says abruptly and with utmost confidence.
"Yes, that's the way you'll be now .. but .. "
"No, I'm not getting married" he says pulling himself up to his full 7 year old height.
I just nod slowly.. going back to when I used to say such stuff... and see that we've arrived. I start talking about not banging car doors, and watching for traffic.
I'm still recovering from a dengue-like virus - my walk is more of a panda's shuffle. After a couple of rounds of running ahead and coming back to me, he decides to walk with the panda. The questions start to fly.
"Pappa, is it true that if you do something very good and die, you will become a God?"
These days, I think teaching religion to young kids is pretty harmful. So, I counter:
"If you do something very, very good to people, they'll treat you like God?"
"Do you need to die to be treated as God? " comes the next rapid-fire question.
"Not really" I say, "but some people take so much effort doing good stuff that they die from it"
A few moments pass.
"Pappa, if you do bad things, you'll go to hell.. right? ..and heaven if you do good?"
" I don't know. People say that, but none have seen heaven or hell ", I say.
"Ajja (grandpa) has seen heaven, I'm sure" he says.
"Maybe, but he's not come back to tell us that, has he?" I reply.
"No.. " comes the reply grudgingly.
I pounce on that pause: "Do you feel good when you do something bad to somebody? Or rather, when you do something good to people, don't you feel good? "
"Yes, I do... and I am very careful. I don't do bad things" he says. My eyeballs nearly slip out through the corners. But I continue
"So, that is enough for you to do good things? Do you need heaven or hell? " I ask. He nods in agreement.
We get to the car by then. The next round of fire starts as we drive out of the gate.
"Why don't we have everlasting life?"
I'm sure that is intended to impress. I don't smile in surprise, or react to the usage. His mom - would stop the car, get on the hood and do a dance number in celebration. Instead, I go ahead with my trap: "Should people keep on being born, and not die?" I ask( he nods ), "then won't the earth get so full of people that there won't be any standing room? "
His eyes widen in realization of the problem. I push further. "What about food? What happens once they eat up all the plants and animals on earth? Will everlasting people live without food?"
He spends a few seconds thinking if everlasting beings can die if they don't eat.
"How about making plants also everlasting?"
"Many a time, we eat the whole plant - like the coriander you love in your daal? Can a plant be everlasting after it's eaten whole?" I ask.
The car is silent for a few seconds. I then break his rumination : "You know, your Ajja is still alive in a way". That perks him up.
"Our bodies have small things called 'genes'. They decide how you look, whether your eyes are like your dad's, how tall you will grow, how smart you'll be.. etc. These genes come inside you from either your dad or your mom."
His face is still blank. I connect the dots some more.. " So, I have genes from Ajja/ Ajji, and you have some of those same genes along with your Amma's. That's why you look like me in some ways, and like Amma in some other ways. So, you're also carrying your Ajja's & Ajji's genes. So, you have some part of your Pappa, Amma, Ajji & Ajja inside you and will have them even after they die."
His eyes widen in amazement at the thought. He takes a second look at himself and smiles.
I push further "So, when you get married & have kids, and although I'll get old and die, I will still be in your kids.." - I stop when I'm faced with his authoritative little palm.
"I'm not planning to get married. I hate girls" he says abruptly and with utmost confidence.
"Yes, that's the way you'll be now .. but .. "
"No, I'm not getting married" he says pulling himself up to his full 7 year old height.
I just nod slowly.. going back to when I used to say such stuff... and see that we've arrived. I start talking about not banging car doors, and watching for traffic.
Saturday, April 30, 2016
The Dining Table Thespian
Your arm is hurting like hell. The pungent fumes rising up from the volcano don't make it easier. You've been hanging on the cliff edge for what feels like forever now. You're feeling so weak that letting go seems a pleasurable act. The fear of falling down hundreds of feet into molten lava has lost it's dark sheen and seems like a cloudy & fluffy end.
You look up and you see him. Your dad. The man who's responsible for your being here, and is looking at you with empty eyes. Unyielding, unmoving and not reaching out an arm to help.
But still, with the last vestiges of energy, you speak "Pappa, ... I just can't do it. I'm done". Your voice chokes and falters towards the end as more acrid fumes rise up. Your eyes tear up - not sure if it's the burning, or the emotion.
The emotion is true, although the scene is marginally different. Replace the volcano with a half-eaten dinner plate, and fumes for that horrible food our cook prepares. Ok, it's not the arm that's hurting.. it's just my butt, from sitting at the table for so long. I was done with these vegetables even before they were planted in the ground, but this cold & heartless Dad seems to not care. For all his fancy degrees, he doesn't seem to have a vocabulary beyond 'No'. How many ways of saying 'No' are there? He 'No's them all.
Actually, I'm mostly done. I've carefully spread out the food so at no individual point is it more than 1 cm high. Then he says he wants the plate cleaned out. So, I created smaller clumps of food so some plate surface shows beneath. But it still fails his 'plate surface area percentage' metric.
I've even 'accidentally' dropped some food. Still, it's not enough. Doing a 'Shawshank Redemption' without raising suspicion requires some freedom of movement, and moving is hard when you're under observation: searchlight beams trained on you, and probably machine guns behind them ready to fire. To add to this, the chair I'm sitting on is rigged - it squeaks & groans when I try moving a little. Thankfully Dr. No doesn't get on the floor and count morsels.
You might have sniggered when I said "search lights & guns". That's only half the picture. There's the vengeful watch dog. He sits almost next to me. He's big, growling, watching, and ever ready to get the aforementioned Captain Negativity's attention. He derives great pleasure from my pains. So, he's ready to get his revenge by calling out 'Pappaaa.. '.
At this point you're either googling 'talking dogs', or have surmised I'm talking about my big brother. His desire for revenge has a grain of validity, although grossly disproportionate. I might have told on him to the aforementioned authorities. I have also been generous in not telling on him for many days. But instead of gratitude, I get called a blackmailer. I called it exchanging favours, but this guy adores Sensei No No - being his son and all. So, the negativity is not at all surprising. I might have done other minor things - breaking his model airplane, irritating him continually, teasing him on everything he's embarrassed about, breaking his painfully constructed lego superstructures, etc. But that's what loving brothers do. He just doesn't get it.
Both of them look through my carefully constructed film of tears, and Father No says: "Finish it! You're a bag of bones already! Soon you'll get shipped to E****ia". Seriously, I've heard that for the past 5 years -and so have my play-buddies. I guess fathers memorize from shared cheat cards- given their rather limited vocabulary.
Just then the doorbell rings. My despair turns to joy. Enters my dear Mother from the gym .. and sees me in my agony. I bring back the cliff and the volcano to my mind, and the tears I shed are enough to douse one. "Let him be!" she says. "The food is cold already. He can't eat this anymore. Torturing him like this .. that food won't even digest". I don't bother to correct her distorted sense of the digestion process, but quietly start to slink away. "But he does this everyday!" retorts Captain Negativity, but he doesn't hold a candle to the brightness of Wonder Woman. That war was lost long before I was even born. These words are like those American Civil war reenactment battles - shooting blanks.
It's only 15 minutes later she yells about the amount of food I've spilled off the table, but I pretend to not hear. This isn't the first time, and she will never connect the dots, though; those cliff-hanger-imagery induced tears have the power to cloud all logic that moms can muster. One hug from me erases all irrelevant data and she's composing poems about me.
Wonder Woman is putty in my hands. Heh Heh Heh.
You look up and you see him. Your dad. The man who's responsible for your being here, and is looking at you with empty eyes. Unyielding, unmoving and not reaching out an arm to help.
But still, with the last vestiges of energy, you speak "Pappa, ... I just can't do it. I'm done". Your voice chokes and falters towards the end as more acrid fumes rise up. Your eyes tear up - not sure if it's the burning, or the emotion.
The emotion is true, although the scene is marginally different. Replace the volcano with a half-eaten dinner plate, and fumes for that horrible food our cook prepares. Ok, it's not the arm that's hurting.. it's just my butt, from sitting at the table for so long. I was done with these vegetables even before they were planted in the ground, but this cold & heartless Dad seems to not care. For all his fancy degrees, he doesn't seem to have a vocabulary beyond 'No'. How many ways of saying 'No' are there? He 'No's them all.
Actually, I'm mostly done. I've carefully spread out the food so at no individual point is it more than 1 cm high. Then he says he wants the plate cleaned out. So, I created smaller clumps of food so some plate surface shows beneath. But it still fails his 'plate surface area percentage' metric.
I've even 'accidentally' dropped some food. Still, it's not enough. Doing a 'Shawshank Redemption' without raising suspicion requires some freedom of movement, and moving is hard when you're under observation: searchlight beams trained on you, and probably machine guns behind them ready to fire. To add to this, the chair I'm sitting on is rigged - it squeaks & groans when I try moving a little. Thankfully Dr. No doesn't get on the floor and count morsels.
You might have sniggered when I said "search lights & guns". That's only half the picture. There's the vengeful watch dog. He sits almost next to me. He's big, growling, watching, and ever ready to get the aforementioned Captain Negativity's attention. He derives great pleasure from my pains. So, he's ready to get his revenge by calling out 'Pappaaa.. '.
At this point you're either googling 'talking dogs', or have surmised I'm talking about my big brother. His desire for revenge has a grain of validity, although grossly disproportionate. I might have told on him to the aforementioned authorities. I have also been generous in not telling on him for many days. But instead of gratitude, I get called a blackmailer. I called it exchanging favours, but this guy adores Sensei No No - being his son and all. So, the negativity is not at all surprising. I might have done other minor things - breaking his model airplane, irritating him continually, teasing him on everything he's embarrassed about, breaking his painfully constructed lego superstructures, etc. But that's what loving brothers do. He just doesn't get it.
Both of them look through my carefully constructed film of tears, and Father No says: "Finish it! You're a bag of bones already! Soon you'll get shipped to E****ia". Seriously, I've heard that for the past 5 years -and so have my play-buddies. I guess fathers memorize from shared cheat cards- given their rather limited vocabulary.
Just then the doorbell rings. My despair turns to joy. Enters my dear Mother from the gym .. and sees me in my agony. I bring back the cliff and the volcano to my mind, and the tears I shed are enough to douse one. "Let him be!" she says. "The food is cold already. He can't eat this anymore. Torturing him like this .. that food won't even digest". I don't bother to correct her distorted sense of the digestion process, but quietly start to slink away. "But he does this everyday!" retorts Captain Negativity, but he doesn't hold a candle to the brightness of Wonder Woman. That war was lost long before I was even born. These words are like those American Civil war reenactment battles - shooting blanks.
It's only 15 minutes later she yells about the amount of food I've spilled off the table, but I pretend to not hear. This isn't the first time, and she will never connect the dots, though; those cliff-hanger-imagery induced tears have the power to cloud all logic that moms can muster. One hug from me erases all irrelevant data and she's composing poems about me.
Wonder Woman is putty in my hands. Heh Heh Heh.
Tuesday, October 27, 2015
What's in a (middle) name?
Nischal's mom has this question as often as there are traffic jams in Bangalore: "Who do you love more? Amma, or Pappa ? "
Nischal mostly tries to be as politically correct as possible. He gives answers like " I love both of you... ", "You both are my parents.." etc. Then his mother presses him repeatedly with threats of kiss storms, and he usually capitulates. This capitulation, however, shouldn't be mistaken for him lying. He's just being moved out of his politically correct stance. Even as a little baby, his eyes would light up when he caught sight of his mother.
Back to the present. Nischal, his mom & I were out to renew our passports. She came up with the same question, and he readily answered 'I love you more, Amma'. Being tortured again - specially within sight of a few other 6-8 year old kids out there was clearly an embarrassment best avoided. But he didn't realize that was just the first step in his wily mom's plot.
"Amma is very sad that none of her boys are carrying her name.. " she continued in a 'poor little me' voice "now that we're getting you a new passport, why don't we change your middle name from 'Natraj' to 'Anupama' ?"
Nischal didn't drop his smile, but remained silent and pretended not to hear. But you could almost hear the gears turning.
I added fuel to the fire "Yes, I think that's not a bad idea! "
Nischal continue to smile, and said "But it will make it difficult at school, no? My work books, class work books .. already have my present name"
FYI: None of his school books have his middle name. They just have his first and last names.
His mom kicked into higher gear "No, that's not a problem. We'll just get fresh labels and fix that problem". She also clapped her hands in glee as if Nischal already agreed " I feel so good Nischal will carry my name. I'll fill up his new name in this form"
I could almost hear the gears shift now.
"No that won't work" he says hurriedly.. buying time.
"Why not? " presses his mom.
"Because ..because... pappa doesn't have his mom's name as his middle name" he blurts.. and he joyfully makes another connection "..and you also. Your middle name is taatha's(grandpa) name - Nagaraj! "
But she wasn't giving up. After all, his mom. "But my mom didn't want me to take her name. So, I didn't take. Now I want you to take my name"
There was even more pretend-glee at display .. she started clapping her hands, and started repeating his name with her name as the middle name. "So, you like 'Nischal Anu' , or 'Nischal Anupama.. ' ? " she asked.
Nischal, still was calm and smiling, but I could see the panic seeping through. He definitely didn't want a 'girl name' stuck to his - notwithstanding the bottomless sea of love he had for his mom.
He repeatedly said 'no ' to all his mom's pleading.
She finally shifted to an oft-repeated song that's usually sung in a crying-baby voice: 'Nobody loves me, everybody hates me..'. There's not much of a tune to it, nor are there any lyrics of note. She's the music composer, lyricist and lead singer of this absurdity, but it has served her well so far with Nischal.
The song begins, and I realize the circus is going downhill now. The elephants are going to fall off their unicycles, and the monkeys will smash their guitars on the heads of hippos. It was time for me to retreat into a book, or a game, or even plead with a kind tortoise with extra room.
Amazingly enough, the trick works. He concedes " I'll have both papa's and your name as my middle name".
Not knowing when to quit, the mom switches to aggressive, and pity-raising mode every 2 minutes.
This goes on until Nischal manages to see the form, and his name. He breaks into a grin that pretty much says "So much for your drama.!"
Just then, our number gets called, and we hustle onto the booth. He also does a double check just before the form is submitted.
I for one, am glad we won't be visiting the passport office for a few years.
Edit: You'd think the mom would let it go. But, No. She brought it up again in a couple of days. Nischal - being her own flesh and blood - was prepared: "Actually, Anna(older brother) should change his middle name to yours. His name is Avaneesh, and 'Avaneesh Anupama Gujran' matches well, just like 'Nischal Natraj Gujran' matches.
Not only was the mom left speechless, the older brother had a perfect 'deer in the headlights' look.
Nischal mostly tries to be as politically correct as possible. He gives answers like " I love both of you... ", "You both are my parents.." etc. Then his mother presses him repeatedly with threats of kiss storms, and he usually capitulates. This capitulation, however, shouldn't be mistaken for him lying. He's just being moved out of his politically correct stance. Even as a little baby, his eyes would light up when he caught sight of his mother.
Back to the present. Nischal, his mom & I were out to renew our passports. She came up with the same question, and he readily answered 'I love you more, Amma'. Being tortured again - specially within sight of a few other 6-8 year old kids out there was clearly an embarrassment best avoided. But he didn't realize that was just the first step in his wily mom's plot.
"Amma is very sad that none of her boys are carrying her name.. " she continued in a 'poor little me' voice "now that we're getting you a new passport, why don't we change your middle name from 'Natraj' to 'Anupama' ?"
Nischal didn't drop his smile, but remained silent and pretended not to hear. But you could almost hear the gears turning.
I added fuel to the fire "Yes, I think that's not a bad idea! "
Nischal continue to smile, and said "But it will make it difficult at school, no? My work books, class work books .. already have my present name"
FYI: None of his school books have his middle name. They just have his first and last names.
His mom kicked into higher gear "No, that's not a problem. We'll just get fresh labels and fix that problem". She also clapped her hands in glee as if Nischal already agreed " I feel so good Nischal will carry my name. I'll fill up his new name in this form"
I could almost hear the gears shift now.
"No that won't work" he says hurriedly.. buying time.
"Why not? " presses his mom.
"Because ..because... pappa doesn't have his mom's name as his middle name" he blurts.. and he joyfully makes another connection "..and you also. Your middle name is taatha's(grandpa) name - Nagaraj! "
But she wasn't giving up. After all, his mom. "But my mom didn't want me to take her name. So, I didn't take. Now I want you to take my name"
There was even more pretend-glee at display .. she started clapping her hands, and started repeating his name with her name as the middle name. "So, you like 'Nischal Anu' , or 'Nischal Anupama.. ' ? " she asked.
Nischal, still was calm and smiling, but I could see the panic seeping through. He definitely didn't want a 'girl name' stuck to his - notwithstanding the bottomless sea of love he had for his mom.
He repeatedly said 'no ' to all his mom's pleading.
She finally shifted to an oft-repeated song that's usually sung in a crying-baby voice: 'Nobody loves me, everybody hates me..'. There's not much of a tune to it, nor are there any lyrics of note. She's the music composer, lyricist and lead singer of this absurdity, but it has served her well so far with Nischal.
The song begins, and I realize the circus is going downhill now. The elephants are going to fall off their unicycles, and the monkeys will smash their guitars on the heads of hippos. It was time for me to retreat into a book, or a game, or even plead with a kind tortoise with extra room.
Amazingly enough, the trick works. He concedes " I'll have both papa's and your name as my middle name".
Not knowing when to quit, the mom switches to aggressive, and pity-raising mode every 2 minutes.
This goes on until Nischal manages to see the form, and his name. He breaks into a grin that pretty much says "So much for your drama.!"
Just then, our number gets called, and we hustle onto the booth. He also does a double check just before the form is submitted.
I for one, am glad we won't be visiting the passport office for a few years.
Edit: You'd think the mom would let it go. But, No. She brought it up again in a couple of days. Nischal - being her own flesh and blood - was prepared: "Actually, Anna(older brother) should change his middle name to yours. His name is Avaneesh, and 'Avaneesh Anupama Gujran' matches well, just like 'Nischal Natraj Gujran' matches.
Not only was the mom left speechless, the older brother had a perfect 'deer in the headlights' look.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
The birthday gift
I'd just stepped into the house - from work.
"Papa, today was Sushanth's birthday!"
I nod absently.
"And I had nothing to give him! I gave him a 1 Rupee coin as gift! "
I pay attention and look at him with surprise/confusion.
"I tried calling Amma, but she didn't pick up. I didn't know what to do!" he continued, " so I took money from my box ( pocket money) and gave him"
I nod in appreciation, start walking in, and something strikes me. I turn back to him :
"Tell me this, I've given you more than 1 rupee, for sure. Have you spent that somewhere? "
He smiled ..like he was caught at something, and collected his thoughts quickly.
"No, I had 10 rupees more. But I didn't want to give him everything just because it's his birthday", he smiles " .. so I thought I'll give him 1 rupee ".
I wanted to ask him what would 1 rupee buy, but I also appreciated that he thought about giving his friend something - not wait for his mom to buy a present at some later date.
So, I just smiled at him and walked on.
"Papa, today was Sushanth's birthday!"
I nod absently.
"And I had nothing to give him! I gave him a 1 Rupee coin as gift! "
I pay attention and look at him with surprise/confusion.
"I tried calling Amma, but she didn't pick up. I didn't know what to do!" he continued, " so I took money from my box ( pocket money) and gave him"
I nod in appreciation, start walking in, and something strikes me. I turn back to him :
"Tell me this, I've given you more than 1 rupee, for sure. Have you spent that somewhere? "
He smiled ..like he was caught at something, and collected his thoughts quickly.
"No, I had 10 rupees more. But I didn't want to give him everything just because it's his birthday", he smiles " .. so I thought I'll give him 1 rupee ".
I wanted to ask him what would 1 rupee buy, but I also appreciated that he thought about giving his friend something - not wait for his mom to buy a present at some later date.
So, I just smiled at him and walked on.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
What are you going to do about this girl?
"Papa, where are you going tomorrow? " - Nischal seeing my packing.
"Mumbai" I say.
"Why are you going there? " - comes the next question.
We are sitting in the office.. Anu is sitting in the living room. Nischal is sitting at the computer table.. so his back is facing the other room.
"I'm going to a marriage there" I answer.
A brief silence.
"Then, what are you going to do about this girl? " comes the next question.
I look up to see his palm pointing to the room behind him over his shoulder.
I'm confused - for a moment - before I recover.
"What about her?" I ask.
He thinks for a beat before he says " Oh.. your other girl is going to stay back in Mumbai? "
"She can come here also, you know. If you like" I counter with a smile.
He puts down his pencil casually. "I want to go to Amma "
"Not until you finish writing that 49" I reply - not fooled by the nonchalance.
The page is filled up with number 49 in record time, making me think I should emulate Calvin's dad more. He runs out to his mom. I follow him.
"Amma.. pappa is getting married!" . She gives me a puzzled look, but catches on quick.
"Good for you. You're always complaining about how much I hug you, kiss you and all"
He is now taken aback by this turn of events.
"No.. I'm fine with your kissing. ... I like your kissing. But I want you only, Amma " The panic in his voice does it for her.
She hugs him and says "No my little baby, I'll only be your Amma. Pappa was just joking! " He's not fully convinced. Then she picks him up and the kiss assault starts.
Only when I see his escape attempts start, I know he's convinced .. or dad's bigamy is not a priority item anymore.
"Mumbai" I say.
"Why are you going there? " - comes the next question.
We are sitting in the office.. Anu is sitting in the living room. Nischal is sitting at the computer table.. so his back is facing the other room.
"I'm going to a marriage there" I answer.
A brief silence.
"Then, what are you going to do about this girl? " comes the next question.
I look up to see his palm pointing to the room behind him over his shoulder.
I'm confused - for a moment - before I recover.
"What about her?" I ask.
He thinks for a beat before he says " Oh.. your other girl is going to stay back in Mumbai? "
"She can come here also, you know. If you like" I counter with a smile.
He puts down his pencil casually. "I want to go to Amma "
"Not until you finish writing that 49" I reply - not fooled by the nonchalance.
The page is filled up with number 49 in record time, making me think I should emulate Calvin's dad more. He runs out to his mom. I follow him.
"Amma.. pappa is getting married!" . She gives me a puzzled look, but catches on quick.
"Good for you. You're always complaining about how much I hug you, kiss you and all"
He is now taken aback by this turn of events.
"No.. I'm fine with your kissing. ... I like your kissing. But I want you only, Amma " The panic in his voice does it for her.
She hugs him and says "No my little baby, I'll only be your Amma. Pappa was just joking! " He's not fully convinced. Then she picks him up and the kiss assault starts.
Only when I see his escape attempts start, I know he's convinced .. or dad's bigamy is not a priority item anymore.
Fun with 'Pun'
Nischal's homework today was to write a page full of 'un' words. After losing a long negotiation that he'd do it tomorrow coz 'tomorrow is a holiday!', he finally got his pencil and eraser to the book.
"I can't write! I don't know any 'un' words!" was his declaration, threatening to drop it all and go back to the soccer ball.
Mom pitched in "I'll get you started. Ff .. un! "
"Fun?" Nischal said, although he was clearly re-evaluating mom's sanity associating this word to his current situation.
"What else?" mom asked.
"Pp - un. Pun!" he said.
I too nodded in surprise, wondering if he knew what it meant.
"What is 'pun' ? " asked his brother.
Before either of the adults could form their words, Nischal screamed out " I know, I know ! "
As we looked at him expectantly he blurted out "Pun means babies!"
As I slowly shook my head to correct him, he repeated " Yes. Our teacher told us. They do good things to everybody, and they look like babies!"
Looking at our disagreeing faces, he repeated with confidence, and said "yes, they also cover their heads like this" making a motion with both hands starting at the top of his head, down his cheeks and ending at his chin.
Mom realized first and laughed out loud. "No chinna, that's 'nun' ! "
Nischal just gave his mom with a "now who taught you english?" look.
"I can't write! I don't know any 'un' words!" was his declaration, threatening to drop it all and go back to the soccer ball.
Mom pitched in "I'll get you started. Ff .. un! "
"Fun?" Nischal said, although he was clearly re-evaluating mom's sanity associating this word to his current situation.
"What else?" mom asked.
"Pp - un. Pun!" he said.
I too nodded in surprise, wondering if he knew what it meant.
"What is 'pun' ? " asked his brother.
Before either of the adults could form their words, Nischal screamed out " I know, I know ! "
As we looked at him expectantly he blurted out "Pun means babies!"
As I slowly shook my head to correct him, he repeated " Yes. Our teacher told us. They do good things to everybody, and they look like babies!"
Looking at our disagreeing faces, he repeated with confidence, and said "yes, they also cover their heads like this" making a motion with both hands starting at the top of his head, down his cheeks and ending at his chin.
Mom realized first and laughed out loud. "No chinna, that's 'nun' ! "
Nischal just gave his mom with a "now who taught you english?" look.
Friday, February 28, 2014
What do you want to be when you're grown up?
Papa, what do you want to be when you're grown up?
I'm already grown up, Nischal.
But what do you want to be ?
Well, I suppose I'll be an engineer.. like I am now.
I mean when you are even more grown up than now. What do you want to be?
hm...
I'll tell you what I want to be ?
yes..
I want to be a Ninja. Like in Lego Ninjago.
[ He's been watching a lot of this video ]
I'm already grown up, Nischal.
But what do you want to be ?
Well, I suppose I'll be an engineer.. like I am now.
I mean when you are even more grown up than now. What do you want to be?
hm...
I'll tell you what I want to be ?
yes..
I want to be a Ninja. Like in Lego Ninjago.
[ He's been watching a lot of this video ]
We went to malaria today
"We went to Malaria today" Nischal said.
After a couple of fruitless whaats, I moved on to "What did you do there?"
"We had dosas there" he said ".. and then we saw planets"
"We saw Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Uranus, Neptune, Earth .." he said while swinging arms to make a circle each time, and ended with a shake of the head - "..But no Pluto".
"Why didn't you see Pluto?" I asked
He explained, shaking his head, " Pluto is not a planet, Papa. It has been taken away"
Avaneesh jumped in "pluto is a planet.. it's a dwarf planet"
I had to interrupt the 'yes-no' argument that went on for a minute - " What else did you see at the malaria?"
"We saw stars.. and also one girl crashed in the rocket"
Avaneesh explained to my puzzled face "They must have showed him Kalpana Chawla"
"What else happened, Nischal?" I asked.
"They told Mangala (Mangalyaan) is next to that planet.. that Mars" he said. Avaneesh was puzzled at "Mangala" and his mom explained it as the Indian term for Mars.
"They told the Earth is moving, and the sun is in the middle. The Earth is moving around the Sun. And.. we had to sit in the dark.. "
He came up to sit on the sofa next to me and demonstrate " and we had to sit like this (folding his legs) .. it was very difficult"
I nodded with empathy (a physio had recently lost a few kgs trying to fold & flex my legs).
"When the second movie was coming, okay, everyone was laughing laughing laughing."
"Why" I asked
"Because of the God song there," he said " then .. they showed a lot of rocks following the planet"
"It's called the asteroid belt -" explained his brother.
The little guy cut his elder brother short and continued ".. then they showed Earth .. and everybody was jumping around for that. Then they showed a rocket, Kalpana Chawya.. and they were all in the rocket that went up & down again and again"
Then his voice went up a notch "Then, there were two naked girls" .
My eyebrows shot up with alarm - what were they showing at this planetarium ?!?
"..They were doing potty everywhere ..and messing up the plants.." he continued
"Oh .. you had come outside ? " I asked .. relieved this wasn't part of the show.
"yes.. and I got to see their bums also" - apparently it was - as far as he was concerned.
"Then?" I asked.
"Then we all came back in the bus.. and everybody was laughing and shouting.. Kalpana Chawya! Kalpana Chawya!"
After a couple of fruitless whaats, I moved on to "What did you do there?"
"We had dosas there" he said ".. and then we saw planets"
"We saw Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Uranus, Neptune, Earth .." he said while swinging arms to make a circle each time, and ended with a shake of the head - "..But no Pluto".
"Why didn't you see Pluto?" I asked
He explained, shaking his head, " Pluto is not a planet, Papa. It has been taken away"
Avaneesh jumped in "pluto is a planet.. it's a dwarf planet"
I had to interrupt the 'yes-no' argument that went on for a minute - " What else did you see at the malaria?"
"We saw stars.. and also one girl crashed in the rocket"
Avaneesh explained to my puzzled face "They must have showed him Kalpana Chawla"
"What else happened, Nischal?" I asked.
"They told Mangala (Mangalyaan) is next to that planet.. that Mars" he said. Avaneesh was puzzled at "Mangala" and his mom explained it as the Indian term for Mars.
"They told the Earth is moving, and the sun is in the middle. The Earth is moving around the Sun. And.. we had to sit in the dark.. "
He came up to sit on the sofa next to me and demonstrate " and we had to sit like this (folding his legs) .. it was very difficult"
I nodded with empathy (a physio had recently lost a few kgs trying to fold & flex my legs).
"When the second movie was coming, okay, everyone was laughing laughing laughing."
"Why" I asked
"Because of the God song there," he said " then .. they showed a lot of rocks following the planet"
"It's called the asteroid belt -" explained his brother.
The little guy cut his elder brother short and continued ".. then they showed Earth .. and everybody was jumping around for that. Then they showed a rocket, Kalpana Chawya.. and they were all in the rocket that went up & down again and again"
Then his voice went up a notch "Then, there were two naked girls" .
My eyebrows shot up with alarm - what were they showing at this planetarium ?!?
"..They were doing potty everywhere ..and messing up the plants.." he continued
"Oh .. you had come outside ? " I asked .. relieved this wasn't part of the show.
"yes.. and I got to see their bums also" - apparently it was - as far as he was concerned.
"Then?" I asked.
"Then we all came back in the bus.. and everybody was laughing and shouting.. Kalpana Chawya! Kalpana Chawya!"
Thursday, December 12, 2013
A Simple Plan..
We are reading 3 letter words. Nischal is finding it less boring since he gets to draw the words on the iPad. In parallel, the older brother is being quizzed on types of houses, and factors that influence their design.
With Nischal - 'M's sometimes are written as 'W's the first time, but we make some progress.Answers to 'PAT' , 'PAN' , 'RAT', 'RAN' start coming pretty fast. So, I get a little ambitious and have him write 'PLAN'
'Pu' 'Lu' 'A' 'eN' - gets pronounced a few times, but 'PLAN' doesn't get pronounced identifiably because of trailing vowel sounds especially with the consecutive consonants.
No sooner than I give up and blurt out 'PLAN', comes the question; "What does PLAN mean? "
"Plan.. " I stumble " ...means something you decide first before you actually do it"
" like , like .. you decide to scare me each time I come home, get behind there ( I point) and yell 'boo' at me "
(Yes, each evening when I get home, I get 'scared' when the big monkey jumps out. And I get even more surprised and let out a bigger yell when the smaller, louder monkey jumps out a couple of seconds later - Every evening.)
Nischal gives it a moment's thought before he starts with his objections. Before I can hear them, the older brother starts blurting out his Nth wrong answer to "How can one keep snakes & rats out of the house?"
He's already rejected Dad's options of "Sit outside and blow a snake charmer's bean", and "Sing 'snake snake, go away; Come again another day.." with a couple of short derisive laughs.
Nischal finally gets back my attention with his persistent 'but's.
"But we don't decide before" he says, "we hear the sound at the door and just get in here. Is that a plan ? "
"No" I concede quickly. But it turns out to be too quick coz the older guy points out "So what if it was decided just before? It's still a plan, right? "
I deflect that one by "If you 'block' the drainage like you just said, can you imagine what else will get blocked ? "
While the big one is pondering that, Nischal has decided we're done- "We're done now, right ? " to which I nod almost eagerly.
As he tries to leap off my lap, I manage to catch him in a hug. But soon as my precious few hair strands get into trouble, I offer to let him go soon as he counts to 30. I don't bother correcting him when he goes over to 40 after 29, but fervently object whenever he tries to put 30 after 49, 59, 69..etc. I finally take pity and accept it after 109 and loosen my hold.
As he leaps on to the floor, he offers a scholarly nugget that he picked up at the sand pit. "Papa, did you know you were naked when you were born?" And finds it exceedingly funny.
As his laughter dies down, I ask mockingly "So, weren't you also naked when you were born ? "
He smiles, and says with an I-can't-believe-you-don't-know-this voice "No Papa. I was born with a T Shirt." And saunters out without looking back.
With Nischal - 'M's sometimes are written as 'W's the first time, but we make some progress.Answers to 'PAT' , 'PAN' , 'RAT', 'RAN' start coming pretty fast. So, I get a little ambitious and have him write 'PLAN'
'Pu' 'Lu' 'A' 'eN' - gets pronounced a few times, but 'PLAN' doesn't get pronounced identifiably because of trailing vowel sounds especially with the consecutive consonants.
No sooner than I give up and blurt out 'PLAN', comes the question; "What does PLAN mean? "
"Plan.. " I stumble " ...means something you decide first before you actually do it"
" like , like .. you decide to scare me each time I come home, get behind there ( I point) and yell 'boo' at me "
(Yes, each evening when I get home, I get 'scared' when the big monkey jumps out. And I get even more surprised and let out a bigger yell when the smaller, louder monkey jumps out a couple of seconds later - Every evening.)
Nischal gives it a moment's thought before he starts with his objections. Before I can hear them, the older brother starts blurting out his Nth wrong answer to "How can one keep snakes & rats out of the house?"
He's already rejected Dad's options of "Sit outside and blow a snake charmer's bean", and "Sing 'snake snake, go away; Come again another day.." with a couple of short derisive laughs.
Nischal finally gets back my attention with his persistent 'but's.
"But we don't decide before" he says, "we hear the sound at the door and just get in here. Is that a plan ? "
"No" I concede quickly. But it turns out to be too quick coz the older guy points out "So what if it was decided just before? It's still a plan, right? "
I deflect that one by "If you 'block' the drainage like you just said, can you imagine what else will get blocked ? "
While the big one is pondering that, Nischal has decided we're done- "We're done now, right ? " to which I nod almost eagerly.
As he tries to leap off my lap, I manage to catch him in a hug. But soon as my precious few hair strands get into trouble, I offer to let him go soon as he counts to 30. I don't bother correcting him when he goes over to 40 after 29, but fervently object whenever he tries to put 30 after 49, 59, 69..etc. I finally take pity and accept it after 109 and loosen my hold.
As he leaps on to the floor, he offers a scholarly nugget that he picked up at the sand pit. "Papa, did you know you were naked when you were born?" And finds it exceedingly funny.
As his laughter dies down, I ask mockingly "So, weren't you also naked when you were born ? "
He smiles, and says with an I-can't-believe-you-don't-know-this voice "No Papa. I was born with a T Shirt." And saunters out without looking back.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
The case of the white mud
"Papa" he starts, while still looking down at the toy in his hands.
"Yes" I reply, barely looking at him - I'm driving. But I do put the stereo on mute.
"On a sunny day, when I get a holiday, we should go on a ship " he looks up at me, while his face breaks into a smile. I guess he's picturing it in his head.
Nischal still doesn't get the concept of days too well. But he gets time of day. So, events are described as on a 'dark day', a 'sunny day', etc. 'Yesterday' and 'Tomorrow' are used, but they are just like 'sunday' or 'monday' - their purpose is to count the days to the coming saturday (holiday).
Once, he found out in March (thanks to a YouTube trailer) about an Iron Man movie.He bugged me literally every day if 'May' was tomorrow, and if we could go see the movie. No thanks to the malls that put up posters well in advance, but I digress.
"Where do you want to go, on the ship?" I ask - wondering if this is one more plea for me to go to the US. I often get woken up from my saturday afternoon naps to go 'right now' to the US to buy some toy he saw on YouTube or Amazon.
"If you go on the ship, you will get to Penguins. I want to go there " he says. There's this disney website called 'Club Penguin' where he & his brother spend a good bit of time playing games. Yes, every player there is a penguin, with a custom set of accessories.
Seeing that 'penguins' doesn't get me jumping in glee, he adds " You also get white mud there".
It takes a couple of moments for me to realize what he's talking about, but I manage to hold back the corrections I have to offer.
I ask instead "White mud? Really ? That sounds interesting!"
His smile widens. "Yes, white mud. But you need to wear caps when you go there"
"Why is that ? " I ask as I realize scenes on a monitor don't convey the weather.
He pauses a beat before coming up with " Because, the white mud will get into your hair"
"So what if it gets into your hair?", I counter.
He assumes a professorial pose, and takes a deep breath. " Papa, if you get white mud in your hair, you will fall sick. Ok? "
"Oh", I nod vigorously like a light bulb went on in my head. He's pleased with himself.
The next couple of weeks, I'd bored all my polite friends with the 'white mud' story. Then, I hear him point at the TV and say "Papa, that snow looks awesome, no ? "
I barely hide my anguish while I look at his older brother.
"Yes, I taught him. He was going around calling it 'white mud' with my friends too" he says, with a 'I saved the idiot' smile.
My little guy is growing up too fast.
"Yes" I reply, barely looking at him - I'm driving. But I do put the stereo on mute.
"On a sunny day, when I get a holiday, we should go on a ship " he looks up at me, while his face breaks into a smile. I guess he's picturing it in his head.
Nischal still doesn't get the concept of days too well. But he gets time of day. So, events are described as on a 'dark day', a 'sunny day', etc. 'Yesterday' and 'Tomorrow' are used, but they are just like 'sunday' or 'monday' - their purpose is to count the days to the coming saturday (holiday).
Once, he found out in March (thanks to a YouTube trailer) about an Iron Man movie.He bugged me literally every day if 'May' was tomorrow, and if we could go see the movie. No thanks to the malls that put up posters well in advance, but I digress.
"Where do you want to go, on the ship?" I ask - wondering if this is one more plea for me to go to the US. I often get woken up from my saturday afternoon naps to go 'right now' to the US to buy some toy he saw on YouTube or Amazon.
"If you go on the ship, you will get to Penguins. I want to go there " he says. There's this disney website called 'Club Penguin' where he & his brother spend a good bit of time playing games. Yes, every player there is a penguin, with a custom set of accessories.
Seeing that 'penguins' doesn't get me jumping in glee, he adds " You also get white mud there".
It takes a couple of moments for me to realize what he's talking about, but I manage to hold back the corrections I have to offer.
I ask instead "White mud? Really ? That sounds interesting!"
His smile widens. "Yes, white mud. But you need to wear caps when you go there"
"Why is that ? " I ask as I realize scenes on a monitor don't convey the weather.
He pauses a beat before coming up with " Because, the white mud will get into your hair"
"So what if it gets into your hair?", I counter.
He assumes a professorial pose, and takes a deep breath. " Papa, if you get white mud in your hair, you will fall sick. Ok? "
"Oh", I nod vigorously like a light bulb went on in my head. He's pleased with himself.
The next couple of weeks, I'd bored all my polite friends with the 'white mud' story. Then, I hear him point at the TV and say "Papa, that snow looks awesome, no ? "
I barely hide my anguish while I look at his older brother.
"Yes, I taught him. He was going around calling it 'white mud' with my friends too" he says, with a 'I saved the idiot' smile.
My little guy is growing up too fast.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Present Tense talks to Past Tense
Nischal's older brother used to only speak Kannada while he was a child. But that became a problem once he joined day care. The teachers there ended up learning some kannada words so they could understand him. To help him, we parents started speaking more in english. That made him pick up english, but he forgot kannada completely. Even now at the age of 10 he is not able to speak Kannada.
So, with Nischal - we decided we'd just stick to Kannada, and english would come to him on it's own once he joined school.
That was not to be.
He started speaking in english on his own - just listening to us - and now has us also automatically replying to him in english. The english needs work, but we don't correct him. I enjoy listening to the mistakes too - knowing that they are short lived. I know some of my present & old colleagues will find that hard to believe about me, but it's true. :)
Coming from a more streamlined language like kannada, he doesn't even consider the fact that present-past tense patterns vary for different words.
So, I broke from tradition one day when I corrected him after "Papa, this Bhaagya (maid) is a bad guy! She waked me up so early in the morning today! "
"Nischal, she 'woke' you up this morning" I said, "-not 'waked' "
He looked at me, and smiled.
I couldn't help offering a couple more corrections over the next couple of days, and I was quite getting into the roll of things ( my friends are nodding their heads now).
Then one day, as I was taking off my shoes and putting them away, came another complaint " Papa! This Anna (his elder brother)! In the birthday party, he drinked all the soda by himself! "
"Nischal, it's 'drank' - not 'drinked' " I corrected automatically.
He then walked up to me, and put his hand on my shoulder. I turned to looked at him. Since I was already bent down, we were eye to eye.
"Papa " he says, his face all seriousness, " It's not 'drank'. 'Carry - carried' , 'wait - waited' , 'wake - waked' and 'drink - drinked' , Ok ?"
As I scrambled for words; he broke into a slight smile, turned and walked away with a slight spring in his step.
Enough was Enough, I suppose.
And yes, those of you(my friends??) that are smiling ear to ear? You can stop now.
So, with Nischal - we decided we'd just stick to Kannada, and english would come to him on it's own once he joined school.
That was not to be.
He started speaking in english on his own - just listening to us - and now has us also automatically replying to him in english. The english needs work, but we don't correct him. I enjoy listening to the mistakes too - knowing that they are short lived. I know some of my present & old colleagues will find that hard to believe about me, but it's true. :) Coming from a more streamlined language like kannada, he doesn't even consider the fact that present-past tense patterns vary for different words.
So, I broke from tradition one day when I corrected him after "Papa, this Bhaagya (maid) is a bad guy! She waked me up so early in the morning today! "
"Nischal, she 'woke' you up this morning" I said, "-not 'waked' "
He looked at me, and smiled.
I couldn't help offering a couple more corrections over the next couple of days, and I was quite getting into the roll of things ( my friends are nodding their heads now).
Then one day, as I was taking off my shoes and putting them away, came another complaint " Papa! This Anna (his elder brother)! In the birthday party, he drinked all the soda by himself! "
"Nischal, it's 'drank' - not 'drinked' " I corrected automatically.
He then walked up to me, and put his hand on my shoulder. I turned to looked at him. Since I was already bent down, we were eye to eye.
"Papa " he says, his face all seriousness, " It's not 'drank'. 'Carry - carried' , 'wait - waited' , 'wake - waked' and 'drink - drinked' , Ok ?"
As I scrambled for words; he broke into a slight smile, turned and walked away with a slight spring in his step.
Enough was Enough, I suppose.
And yes, those of you(my friends??) that are smiling ear to ear? You can stop now.
Friday, July 12, 2013
One Chapati Dinner
The cook had quit; She wanted to take care of her daughter whose child was due anytime.
For a few days - before we found another cook - Anu would cook. One of the nights, she insisted the kids & their dad sit down on the kitchen floor, and eat fresh chapatis right there as she made them. For those going 'aaaww, sho shweet..', our house chapatis tend to crack teeth if left out for too long. Yea.. a different kind of 'aaww'.
So, here we were eating the fresh chapatis & curry; even Nischal was eating eagerly - a very unexpected, but welcome change - when he talks about what happened in class.
"Teacher was asking us all about families"
We adults make encouraging noises, and the older brother continues to eat while in his own zone.
"I told her about Annaa (older brother), pappa, amma ." Nischal continues.
"You didn't tell her about Ajji (grandmother) ? " asks his brother.
"No, Ajji is not with us here. That's a joint fa-ma-lee" says Nischal.
Now our appropriate noises become more authentic - glad to hear something he'd learnt, and also glad to hear that he'd learnt something.
"But Ajji also is our family, isn't she ? " continued his brother, " she ... "
Nischal interrupted him " No, Anna. We are a new-clear fa-ma-lee!"
Now, both of us adults are smiling and realizing that we aren't totally throwing away our money when we pay his school fees.
The older brother also nodded in grudging appreciation "Nuclear. I didn't know that word until last year (when he pored over wikipedia to sate his fascination for nuclear bombs)".
Nischal goes back to munching on those chapatis - they probably have gotten slightly colder.
For a few days - before we found another cook - Anu would cook. One of the nights, she insisted the kids & their dad sit down on the kitchen floor, and eat fresh chapatis right there as she made them. For those going 'aaaww, sho shweet..', our house chapatis tend to crack teeth if left out for too long. Yea.. a different kind of 'aaww'.
So, here we were eating the fresh chapatis & curry; even Nischal was eating eagerly - a very unexpected, but welcome change - when he talks about what happened in class.
"Teacher was asking us all about families"
We adults make encouraging noises, and the older brother continues to eat while in his own zone.
"I told her about Annaa (older brother), pappa, amma ." Nischal continues.
"You didn't tell her about Ajji (grandmother) ? " asks his brother.
"No, Ajji is not with us here. That's a joint fa-ma-lee" says Nischal.
Now our appropriate noises become more authentic - glad to hear something he'd learnt, and also glad to hear that he'd learnt something.
"But Ajji also is our family, isn't she ? " continued his brother, " she ... "
Nischal interrupted him " No, Anna. We are a new-clear fa-ma-lee!"
Now, both of us adults are smiling and realizing that we aren't totally throwing away our money when we pay his school fees.
The older brother also nodded in grudging appreciation "Nuclear. I didn't know that word until last year (when he pored over wikipedia to sate his fascination for nuclear bombs)".
Nischal goes back to munching on those chapatis - they probably have gotten slightly colder.
Monday, June 17, 2013
One of the sundays..
The wife was out shopping for my niece's birthday present, and I was left with the boys. It was 4 pm, and the little guy said "Papa take me down to play with Anant".
So, we get ready and go down, but Anant isn't around.
"Let's go to his house" he says. I say "you can't just go to somebody's house.. we need to call and find out"
"I know his number" he replies and proceeds to dial the extension. He's promptly greeted by a lady on the other side who tells him there's no Anant there.
I have a million questions on how he came up with that number (he's 4 years old ), but those are interrupted by his next command. "Let's go to his place, and I want to climb the stairs"
Anant's apartment is on the 10th floor, but I agree - my phone has this step counter app, and I never get close to 1000 steps daily let alone the 10,000 steps goal it thinks we need to get everyday. And my 1000 steps include not pausing the step counting while in the car too.
Anant's dad greets us, and promises to send Anant down with his grandpa in a few minutes. Barely hearing him, Nischal starts taking off his shoes to go in.
Before I too can voice my objection (coz I'll have to put them back on him), he's vaults in .. calling his name.
Anant's mom also promises that she'll send him down after she packs his water, etc. - they're clearly uncomfortable with us standing at their door. Nischal is unfazed. "No problem, we'll wait right here for him" .
They give up.
"Okay, he'll come with you.." says Anant's dad " .. and his grandpa will be down shortly with his water bottle ."
"You're ok with minding them? " asks Anant's mom .. rightly concerned. I nod nonchalantly.. " sure, no problem"
I have the elevator door open for them before Nischal thinks of skipping down 10 floors.
So, we get ready and go down, but Anant isn't around.
"Let's go to his house" he says. I say "you can't just go to somebody's house.. we need to call and find out"
"I know his number" he replies and proceeds to dial the extension. He's promptly greeted by a lady on the other side who tells him there's no Anant there.
I have a million questions on how he came up with that number (he's 4 years old ), but those are interrupted by his next command. "Let's go to his place, and I want to climb the stairs"
Anant's apartment is on the 10th floor, but I agree - my phone has this step counter app, and I never get close to 1000 steps daily let alone the 10,000 steps goal it thinks we need to get everyday. And my 1000 steps include not pausing the step counting while in the car too.
Anant's dad greets us, and promises to send Anant down with his grandpa in a few minutes. Barely hearing him, Nischal starts taking off his shoes to go in.
Before I too can voice my objection (coz I'll have to put them back on him), he's vaults in .. calling his name.
Anant's mom also promises that she'll send him down after she packs his water, etc. - they're clearly uncomfortable with us standing at their door. Nischal is unfazed. "No problem, we'll wait right here for him" .
They give up.
"Okay, he'll come with you.." says Anant's dad " .. and his grandpa will be down shortly with his water bottle ."
"You're ok with minding them? " asks Anant's mom .. rightly concerned. I nod nonchalantly.. " sure, no problem"
I have the elevator door open for them before Nischal thinks of skipping down 10 floors.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Living amongst lions, tigers, elephants & snakes
"Here are the lions, and the elephants are that side" said Nischal. I laughed, half at the statement, and half at the baby-talk. Snakes were elsewhere and monkeys owned their own corner too.
No.. this wasn't a visit to the zoo.
This was our apartment complex where we lived: The landscaping is pretty decent, and there are plenty of trees and bushes, but the jungles of Congo - it definitely wasn't.
Let me back up a bit, now that I've confused you just a little bit.
Nischal was around 18 months old then.
The little always-drunk walker had one problem ( still has). He preferred being carried and would insist upon it with Gowri - his then nanny. Their evening walks would all be in the apartment complex.
She spun wild stories to get him to walk more.
Initially, it was "let's run & catch that butterfly up theere". Sadly, our area have primarily these light yellow colored butterflies.
So, you catch one guy, he's identical to his mother, brother, father and even his distant cousin.
Luckily for her, our visit to the Bannerghatta zoo/safari likely got her more fired up than Nischal.
Soon, Nischal was pointing out to me animals in specific areas in our apartment landscape where an lived.
The darker corners where she didn't want him going, lived the snakes with big teeth.
The bushes near our building lobby - where it was hard to lure him back home after playing - hid the lions.
Pretty much any animal on his iPad zoo that she could pronounce was there somewhere in our apartment complex.
Each time he mentioned this, I smiled indulgently and nodded in faked appreciation until one day it hit me.
All I saw were manicured bushes, while he every time just missed seeing a jumping lion or a trumpeting tusker.
It must be as wondrous to be in his shoes as it was boring to be in mine!
No.. this wasn't a visit to the zoo.
This was our apartment complex where we lived: The landscaping is pretty decent, and there are plenty of trees and bushes, but the jungles of Congo - it definitely wasn't.
Let me back up a bit, now that I've confused you just a little bit.
Nischal was around 18 months old then.
The little always-drunk walker had one problem ( still has). He preferred being carried and would insist upon it with Gowri - his then nanny. Their evening walks would all be in the apartment complex.
She spun wild stories to get him to walk more.
Initially, it was "let's run & catch that butterfly up theere". Sadly, our area have primarily these light yellow colored butterflies.
So, you catch one guy, he's identical to his mother, brother, father and even his distant cousin.
Luckily for her, our visit to the Bannerghatta zoo/safari likely got her more fired up than Nischal.
Soon, Nischal was pointing out to me animals in specific areas in our apartment landscape where an lived.
The darker corners where she didn't want him going, lived the snakes with big teeth.
The bushes near our building lobby - where it was hard to lure him back home after playing - hid the lions.
Pretty much any animal on his iPad zoo that she could pronounce was there somewhere in our apartment complex.
Each time he mentioned this, I smiled indulgently and nodded in faked appreciation until one day it hit me.
All I saw were manicured bushes, while he every time just missed seeing a jumping lion or a trumpeting tusker.
It must be as wondrous to be in his shoes as it was boring to be in mine!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
All for a gun
It was 9pm - time for the older brother to sleep. But he and little guy were fighting over the iPad for the Nth time. And this was after fighting N times over M other items.
Mom had been screaming at the older brother to go to bed. But neither was listening.
So, Dad found the need to finally step in.
"Nishu, go to bed!"
"But papa ..he .. " he started
"I won't tell you again. I want you to go to bed right now and stay there" Dad said and turned away - not wanting to squabble about more life-and-death issues between a 9 year old and a 3 year old.
So, the older brother walks into the bedroom and gets onto his bed. He then realizes a crucial fact. His toy gun - the one which makes crazy noises and lights up like a christmas tree - was out there in the living room. He realizes that in his little brother's hands those fresh batteries would go dead before the little head hit the pillow for the night.
He calls out - not wanting to violate his dad's orders by coming out - "Nischal! Can you bring my gun here?"
Nischal notices the gun. And picks it up with a smile.
'Nischal! Can you bring me my gun? Pleeease' goes the brother.
"What did you say?" asks Nischal innocently.
"I said, can you bring my gun here?" says Nishu even more loudly.
Now - everybody in the apartment - in the far rooms were hearing this conversation. Only Nischal - practically standing outside his brother's room - was apparently not.
"Sorry annaa ( older brother), I can't hear you" continues Nischal.
This continued for a couple more times before Nishu realized he was being played.
Mom had been screaming at the older brother to go to bed. But neither was listening.
So, Dad found the need to finally step in.
"Nishu, go to bed!"
"But papa ..he .. " he started
"I won't tell you again. I want you to go to bed right now and stay there" Dad said and turned away - not wanting to squabble about more life-and-death issues between a 9 year old and a 3 year old.
So, the older brother walks into the bedroom and gets onto his bed. He then realizes a crucial fact. His toy gun - the one which makes crazy noises and lights up like a christmas tree - was out there in the living room. He realizes that in his little brother's hands those fresh batteries would go dead before the little head hit the pillow for the night.
He calls out - not wanting to violate his dad's orders by coming out - "Nischal! Can you bring my gun here?"
Nischal notices the gun. And picks it up with a smile.
'Nischal! Can you bring me my gun? Pleeease' goes the brother.
"What did you say?" asks Nischal innocently.
"I said, can you bring my gun here?" says Nishu even more loudly.
Now - everybody in the apartment - in the far rooms were hearing this conversation. Only Nischal - practically standing outside his brother's room - was apparently not.
"Sorry annaa ( older brother), I can't hear you" continues Nischal.
This continued for a couple more times before Nishu realized he was being played.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The forbidden drink in the fridge
Like his brother, Nischal also has asthma or asthma-like problems.He also gets colds easily which turn into wheezing bouts requiring inhalers, nebulizers, etc.
So, his mom keeps a tight control on the cold stuff he eats. Ice creams are a rarity, sodas from the fridge border on extinction.
So, when pizza orders come with the complimentary pepsi bottles, or the occasional kiddie party where we ply his buddies with chips & colas - the left over bottle usually lands up in the fridge, and stays there.
Dad and Mom who are hitting their 40s in both age and hip-size - stay away from them.
So, that makes the fridge an awe-inspiring trove of the forbidden cold-soda for Nischal. He revels in watching the little fizz in his glass, and is immensely tickled by the little sprays on his lips when he gets the occasional sip.
The joy isn't limited to sodas.. but even juices and drinks like gatorade - anything chilled.
Now, mom recently got some gatorade powder that she uses to whip up bottles for his brother's tennis sessions. He's been watching with fascination, but didn't get much further.
So, yesterday night after mom went to bed started the project on dad.
He got hold of a powder sachet and started the be(u)gging. Dad tried ignoring him, but as usual, this one doesn't easily get distracted like the brother. Finally at 11 pm, dad was forced to make the drink, and give him a cup.
But the joy turned to anger when he saw that he could get only a small cup, and the rest was going to the fridge. Dad held steadfast - he had previous bed-wetting adventures to bolster him.
Morning came, and a new strategy was put into action.
First, there was 'I love you, Papa!', and the hug. Dad was pleased with this rare preference.
And then came 'Papa, see!' followed by deep breathing.
Last came the pronouncement - 'Papa, I have no cough, and no cold!'
Dad, glancing victoriously at Mom, widened his grin and made all the appreciatory noises. 'Great, Raja! You're a strong boy!'
With the trap now set, Nischal turns around and runs into the kitchen. The fridge door slams, and out he came with the gatorade bottle and a glass.
Also comes out a sugary sweet smile and sweeter words laced with milk & honey - 'Papa, can I have some? '
As Dad is digging deep in his brain for words,
Mom lets out a sly smile that says 'He knew the idiot to target, didn't he? '
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Is this juice?
Now Nischal is tall enough that he can almost pee standing up at the commode.
So, dad got creative: He started making Nischal stand on his feet - so he could reach the proper height.
But dad didn't count on the fact that Nischal could now see things in quite a different light.
So, the first day Nischal pops the question pointing in the commode.
- "ಪಪ್ಪಾ , ಇದು ಆರೆಂಜ್ ಜೂಸ್ ಆ ? " ( " Papa - is this orange juice? " )
Dad - having visions of Nischal dipping a straw - quickly, and emphatically said "NO!"
Nischal had a day to mull over it.
Next day comes another question:
- "ಪಪ್ಪಾ, ಇದು ಬೇರೆ ಜೂಸ್ ಆ? " ( " Pappa - is this some other juice? " )
The hapless dad again went "ಅಲ್ಲಾ, ಅದು ಯಾವ ತರಹದ ಜೂಸ್ ಅಲ್ಲ!" ( "NO! .. thats not any kind of juice!" )
He stopped short of mentioning straws - realizing just in time that his horrific vision might get implemented if he did.
Now, he just makes sure straws from the restaurant never come home.
So, dad got creative: He started making Nischal stand on his feet - so he could reach the proper height.
But dad didn't count on the fact that Nischal could now see things in quite a different light.
So, the first day Nischal pops the question pointing in the commode.
- "ಪಪ್ಪಾ , ಇದು ಆರೆಂಜ್ ಜೂಸ್ ಆ ? " ( " Papa - is this orange juice? " )
Dad - having visions of Nischal dipping a straw - quickly, and emphatically said "NO!"
Nischal had a day to mull over it.
Next day comes another question:
- "ಪಪ್ಪಾ, ಇದು ಬೇರೆ ಜೂಸ್ ಆ? " ( " Pappa - is this some other juice? " )
The hapless dad again went "ಅಲ್ಲಾ, ಅದು ಯಾವ ತರಹದ ಜೂಸ್ ಅಲ್ಲ!" ( "NO! .. thats not any kind of juice!" )
He stopped short of mentioning straws - realizing just in time that his horrific vision might get implemented if he did.
Now, he just makes sure straws from the restaurant never come home.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Naptime with grandma
1 Jan 2012. Nischal is 3.
He was spending time with his sushi ajji( grandma).. and dad/mom weren't around. Automatically he insisted with grandma that he wanted the TV on.
Ajji - willing to sell her soul for a hug & a kiss - readily turned it on.
Thankfully, while Chota bheem pranced on onscreen, nap time also hit. Our man's little eyelids were drooping. He would still hit surface occasionally to make sure nobody turned his precious TV off.
Unlike the all surrendering ajji, our visiting aunt Usha - a teacher - still had her conscience switch in the 'ON' position. She took the opportunity and cleverly turned off the fan, and then the TV.
The drooping eyes snapped open - " Who.. What .. Why ..? "
Usha aunty was clever - " No beta, the power has gone".
The little guy looked around to verify, and gave up. He went around the rooms for a little stroll, and then decided to join his already semi-napping ajji in the bedroom.
Ajji - unaware of Usha aunty's subterfuge - had her little stereo turned on with her bhajans singing her a lullaby.
Pat came the question: "How come the power is on here? The stereo is playing?"
While ajji scrambled for an answer, came Usha aunty to the rescue again " No beta, we've put batteries in it. Thats how its playing"
Satisfied, and after testing the bed thoroughly for its springiness, the little master fell asleep after 10-15 minutes.
He was spending time with his sushi ajji( grandma).. and dad/mom weren't around. Automatically he insisted with grandma that he wanted the TV on.
Ajji - willing to sell her soul for a hug & a kiss - readily turned it on.
Thankfully, while Chota bheem pranced on onscreen, nap time also hit. Our man's little eyelids were drooping. He would still hit surface occasionally to make sure nobody turned his precious TV off.
Unlike the all surrendering ajji, our visiting aunt Usha - a teacher - still had her conscience switch in the 'ON' position. She took the opportunity and cleverly turned off the fan, and then the TV.
The drooping eyes snapped open - " Who.. What .. Why ..? "
Usha aunty was clever - " No beta, the power has gone".
The little guy looked around to verify, and gave up. He went around the rooms for a little stroll, and then decided to join his already semi-napping ajji in the bedroom.
Ajji - unaware of Usha aunty's subterfuge - had her little stereo turned on with her bhajans singing her a lullaby.
Pat came the question: "How come the power is on here? The stereo is playing?"
While ajji scrambled for an answer, came Usha aunty to the rescue again " No beta, we've put batteries in it. Thats how its playing"
Satisfied, and after testing the bed thoroughly for its springiness, the little master fell asleep after 10-15 minutes.
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