Sunday, October 27, 2013

smile please


Gods and Demons

Who / what is God? And what, exactly, is a demon?  Heavy questions!  I’m not qualified enough to discuss these issues at any length at any level.  Most certainly, I’m not going to.  However, Daivik gave me a lesson today touching upon these areas, a lesson that I will be well served to remember, a lesson that left me pondering. How does a child’s mind perceive these apparently heavy topics? Is there an element of simplification? And in that simplification, can we, the supposedly “grown-ups”, find answers that often elude us?

This is what happened. Daivik got angry when I told him something that he did not particularly like (something like, okay, shall we stop the cartoon now). Now, five year olds are well known for their tantrums, and they can be, well, taxing at times. His anger raised a trigger and I responded to that. Things were getting a bit heated up between us. It was pretty unnecessary. Even as I was realizing that, Daivik stopped his anger show quite abruptly, gave me a lovely smile and said, ”Okay Appa, I will not watch any more cartoon today”. That defused all the tension and we exchanged smiles and pleasantries.
Both the flare up and its defusing were abrupt and left their marks. After the smile, Daivik explained it in the following words. “See Appa, I got angry and the demon in me came out. This invited the demon in you. Then the God in me came out and killed that demon and made me smile. This killed the demon from you and brought out the God in you”. His logic was both simple and astounding. It made for a neat model.  A model where the god and the demon are both within us and neatly partitioned according to a binary scheme of things, each responding to one particular call: good and bad, right and wrong, god and demon. According to Daivik’s logic, the demon comes out more easily and spreads by inviting other demons, but the god has more power. And the god in him can not only kill the demon in him but also influence the demon in me and by virtue invoke the god in me.  How elegant!

This left me wondering. How exactly do children get ideas from? How do the ideas crystallize and evolve? In this case, neither of his parents told Daivik such a concept in so many words. How did he arrive at this? And what gave him the conviction - and confidence - to actually put it to test? It will be the most fascinating thing ever to understand this process! Of course, as he grows older, he is going to realize that at times these divisions are not entirely black or white and could get somewhat fuzzy. How will this model evolve then?


Can’t wait to find out!

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Points of view

The way I saw it :
Daivik has mastered some games in my phone and wanted to show it to his friends in the kindergarten.

The way Daivik saw it :
You know Appa, Joudy saw a thief today. He was climbing the apartment opposite our kita. No, he was not using the stairs, he was climbing on the walls, like a spider. No, he will not fall down, because he has special grip shoes but when he is about to fall he will use his rocket launcher and go up. You know, he is a 'cool' thief, because he has a 'plasma gun' with which he can shoot everybody and they will vaporize instantly. So he is now on the top of the building but you cannot see him because he is hiding. He is looking for people who have important things with them, for example, mobile phones. Quick, quick, Appa, give it to me.
'Will he not steal it from you Daivik'
'Uff, Appa, you don’t understand. I will take your phone and run back into the kita. There I can hide from him'
'Can’t he jump from the building into your kita'
'No, Appa, he cannot. Beause our kita door is locked. So, quick, give me your phone. See, when I’m waiting there, I can also play with my friends. When he sees so many people together he will run away'.

Friday, August 9, 2013

logic

Daivik was nibbling away his food, left elbow stationed on the table, head bent slightly, and unusually silent.  Now, quietness and Daivik usually do not go together.  I could infact sense something going on in his brain. Sure enough,  he started off.

"Mummy"
"Yes Daivik"
"You have a watch that is glittering"
"Yes Daivik"
"The coins that the pirates take from their treasures is also glittering"
"Yes Daivik"
Hmmm, I was wondering what exactly was he arriving at when he made the giant intellectual leap. A glittering watch in real life and the image of a glittering coin in a picture book can be pieced together.

"So Mummy", he asked, "were you pirates before?"

Yes, Daivik. We were. That is exactly how we are financing you.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Murmuration

Daivik was excited about the birthday invitation from his friend Simon. It was a fine summer day, with clear blue skies and happy chirping birds. The park was about the size of a large cricket ground with trees surrounding the periphery and a few scattered around in the middle. It was still early in the day and the park was yet to be invaded by the bare-chested, beer loving, sun worshipers. Which meant the kids, about ten of them, had the whole park to themselves. It was supposed to be a 'football' party.  There were two footballs. But there was also : one cartwheel and one large garbage can with wheels, far more interesting than a little ball with no wheels.  So the footballs were abandoned even before the first kick as the kids flocked the cart wheel : some went in, some stood on the sides and some decided to push it. They went up a little slope and then let the thing go. It was scary for us, the parents, to watch it from a distance, but the sounds coming from that direction  were cries of joy, a.k.a war cries. Me, me, let me in, you push, next time I push, no not that way, yeaaaahhhhh....At this point, one of them discovered the large garbage can. They managed to roll it to the middle of the park. Ah, what fun a graffiti laden trash can hold ! It is beyond the powers of imagination of the adult brain...

Daivik, watching me watching him, came running over to excitedly report what I was seeing. Soon he got more interested in reporting  the events that were happening rather than participating in them. I thought my presence there was getting counter productive and silently retired to a quiet corner of the park and started reading. But the sounds carried and I could watch them from a distance. The cart wheel and the garbage can were soon abandoned and they started running around  all over the park, still in a group. From my spot  I could hear the distinct ebbing and fading of their buzz. It was like a swarm of bees in tandem flight. There was no intent or purpose. There was no search for meaning. There was, if any thing at all, that single moment. That moment of joy, of fun, of laughter, of being.

Quite suddenly, they were right next to the tree where I was leaning on. It was a beautiful tree, with a wide trunk and very low leafy branches. Daivik 'discovered' me and came running over. He sat next to me for two seconds, sharing the joy of the moment and transmitting it to me and started running back to his friends. It is interesting to watch him run, with his distinctive way of bending his elbows and placing his hands . He suddenly slowed as the low branches brushed  against his face. He raised his hands and without stopping grabbed a few leaves, came running back to me, deposited them in my hands saying, 'Appa, here is a gift for you', and before I could respond, ran back to join the swarm.

Thank you Daivik, for the wonderful gift. 

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Doraemon

“Daivik, come for dinner”
“Daivik”
“Daivik”
“Daivik”
“Daivik, how many times should I call, can you come now?”
“You are watching Doraemon again. Let me find out what exactly is there in that Doraemon that you are not even hearing me ”

Nobita wants to impress Shizuka with his non-existent fishing skills and so goes to a bridge to try it out. Much to his discern, Gian and Suneo join in. The river however is small and polluted. Of course, there are no fishes. An elderly gentleman passing by tells that once upon a time, about 70 years ago, the river used to be much cleaner, there used to be a lot of fishes. Nobita and co cannot believe this. They want to check it out themselves. But how to do it? Turns out that Shizuka is researching about the city and has found a map from 70 years before. Doraemon reaches into his infinity pouch to access the fourth dimension. He pulls out the “map transporter gadget”, a device that transports you across time to the spatial co-ordinates of the said map. So Nobita et al jump into the device and are instantly transported to the same spot 70 years ago. How cool is that ! The city is much greener, the river much wider and cleaner. Oh, look, there are fishes around. They take out their fishing gear when a local boy arrives and guides them in fishing. Meanwhile Gian and Suneo discover a raft and start streaming down the river. Doraemon gets alerted. There is a big problem. The “map transporter gadget” works only within the limits of the original map. And Gian and Suneo are reaching its edge. It is a fascinating problem. They are transported back in time to a restricted spot in space, and are fast approaching its confines. Can they cross it? Will they be able to come back? Will they be sucked into a dimensionless void ? What exactly happens now? It is edge of the seat stuff. These are serious scientific problems, the solutions to which are currently accessible only to imagination. Doraemon, however, has a idea. From his infinity pouch he pulls out another gadget (a map edge extractor, or something like that!). It is a rope that traps the people at the edge of this time warp and pulls them back into safety. The friends are safe again and after catching enough fish, return back to the present.

“Appa”
“Appa”, I hear a feeble voice from a great distance. It barely registers.
“Appa”, it comes again, stronger now.
It is Daivik. He jolts me out. “Appa, how many times to call you, I’m hungry now”.
Gosh, the tables have turned! Instead of getting Daivik up for dinner, I got sucked into the Doraemon universe and Daivik had to extricate me.  

“Yes, Daivik, I’m coming”.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

An anniversary (of sorts)

It started off as a mild form of amusement, probably even a little escape. It evolved slightly as a way to share little ‘Daivik moments’ with friends and family (“Daivik moments”, as defined by the “native states” of Daivik, the states that vanish when you pick up the camera to capture them!).  It has now reached its current avatar of this little blog.

 It is unbelievable and almost incredible that it has sustained for a full year now, at a rate of slightly more than one post every week – an incredibly brisk pace by my admittedly lazy standards. Most amazingly, never once did I felt forced to do it, and never once did I have to dig into reserves of memory to hunt for stories. They have come, so to speak, of themselves. Most of them have been real time, some of them a bit lagged.

When I started, I wondered if it was a good thing to do, to put up aspects of his life in the open. There were issues that I had to consider, how will he react when he grows up? (He, of course, is now aware of the blog. “Are you writing about me?”, he once asked when he saw me at the computer. He had had a little bruise at the kindergarten that day. He stretched out his finger, pointed at the bruise and said “Can you tell them that I cut my finger today”). Am I boring people with needless details? How much is too much? But overtime, the responses have been very encouraging and put these apprehensions to rest.  The blog is becoming a sort of, as a friend put it, “diary”. Another friend told me he could “chart the trajectory of Daivik’s growth”. On another note, it has been an amazing discovery that these stories, despite their distinct ‘Daivikness’, have a certain universality about them.

The blog has had some very interesting side-effects too. It has let me reconnect with old friends, it has helped me make new ones, it has given me interesting insights into the personality of kids, it has given me access to new tips on parenting, it has had people asking for updates, it has even served as a conversation starter at parties. The whole process has been utterly charming and I take this opportunity to thank all of you for your encouragement and assuring responses.

Now, as an anniversary special for the blog, here is a little quiz to all the enthusiastic readers :) Please take a moment to respond by email / facebook / comments below. This will not take a long time :)

1) What is your favorite ‘Daivik moment’ ?
2) What is your least favorite thing about the blog?
      3) Anything else (for example, how will you do it differently?)

And, Oh, did I already mention that we like your feedback?

p.s : I’m using “Daivik” as a sort of generic name. Of course, it includes his little sister as well!

p.p.s : I take the liberty to take this liberty until I can no longer take it J

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Feeling happy

Jatila had to cross the forest on his way to school but was scared to cross it all by himself.  He told about his fear to his mother who provided a solution. His big brother Madhusudhan, who lives in the forest, will join him from the next day, but Jatila has to call out for him. The next day Jatila reaches the forest edge and calls out for Madhusudhan, who does not come at first but after seeing Jatila’s persistence comes out and agrees to walk with him across the forest.

At this point in the story, Daivik started laughing. There was no obvious reason to laugh, I did not tell any joke, but there he was, laughing away. It was a splendid laughter, a deep throated one, and it was coming in waves. It was the sort of laughter that is so rare for its spontaneity, for its gaiety, for its merriment, for its sheer joy.  It was a laughter that transcended its source and delved deep into the being of the person. It is the sort of laughter that life has an uncanny way of taking away from you. I basked in the glory of that joyful laughter for a moment. But then, reason raised its head. What exactly is he laughing for? As one wave was subsiding, I asked him softly, “Daivik, what are you laughing for?”. “Jatila found Madhusudhan”, he said simply and continued to laugh. I did not understand. I repeated my question. “I’m happy”, he said, without elaborating further.

When I put the two together, I was stunned. Daivik was happy that Jatila found Madhusudhan, that Jatila does not have to cross the forest alone. And that happiness was coming out in the form of that laughter!  

“I’m happy for you”, we say this sometimes. We say this to people who have gained some form of happiness, a new car, a new home, a new job, a new partner, a promotion. We say this as a way to share that happiness.  We claim to feel the happiness of another person partly because we can identify with their situation, we can put ourselves, so to speak, in their shoes. We may even be genuine about it. Daivik’s identification with Jatila was so complete, so unalloyed by any traces of falsity,  that I doubt if Daivik could have been any happier had he himself been rescued from the situation. I seriously doubt if we, the non-Daivik's (and by Daivik, I include all his peers as well), with all our compulsions and complications, can reach this level of identification with another. And Jatila does not even exist!  Daivik’s case suggests that this state is, however, not entirely unreachable. Perhaps it is another instance of things that are innate in us which we “grow out” of as we “lose” our childhood. 

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

A for Apple

Or, perhaps an Ant. That is how it used to be when I was learning these things.  Apparently, it has changed. When Daivik and me were walking past our park, a supermarket van crossed us. The van had a huge “E”, the logo for the chain Edeka, written on it. Daivik said, “Appa, see, that is the Edeka van.” “How do you know?”, I asked. “There is an E written”, he said, adding, “E is for Edeka”. This sounded somewhat odd to me.  I was taught in school that E is for Elephant. I asked him, “E is for Edeka, Daivik?” “Yes Appa”, he replied with an unnerving conviction. “Like A is for Aldi”. 

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Gods must be crazy

Daivik and me were looking at flashcards of wild animals from the Savannah. We went through the habits and habitats of Zebras, Rhinos, Giraffes, Lions ("Daivik, where does the Giraffe live", "At the Zoo"!). Daivik knew most of the animals, but Hyena was new for him. "What does Hyena do", he asked. The flashcard said it was friends with the Lion. When I told this, he had more questions. "Does it eat humans then?", he asked. I remembered a scene involving a little boy and hyena from the "Gods must be crazy, part II", the scene where the little boy increases his height by holding a piece of wood above his head. "If you are taller than the Hyena, it will not eat you", I said. Right away Daivik stood erect, straightened his spine further, and asked, "Am I taller than Hyena".

It occurred to me that it might be a good moment to actually watch the said movie. He might be interested in the little boy and the hyena. I could, of course, watch it again. I asked if he would like to watch the movie 'Gods must be crazy'. He liked the ring of the words in the title. "Gods. Must. Be. Crazy", he repeated slowly but right away realized the apparent contradiction the title held with the conception he had of "God".  "But appa", he said, "Gods are not crazy".

Meanwhile, I was scouting the Youtube for videos of the movie. But Google, in its infinite wisdom, was ignoring my requests for 'Gods must be crazy,' instead showing unsolicited suggestions for videos that we might be interested in. While I managed to find the trailer of the movie, Daivik caught a glimpse of Mr. Beans in one of those suggestions. We watched the movie trailer but Daivik's mind was on Mr. Beans. The moment the trailer was over Daivik insisted on Mr. Beans and we ended up watching his antics in the swimming pool.

But the Gods had not disappeared. After the Mr. Beans video, Daivik repeated his earlier assertion, "Appa", he said, "Gods are not crazy".  But it is not enough to just negate something. You need to provide an alternative too. "Appa", he said again, "Gods are not crazy. Mr. Beans is crazy". 

Monday, June 3, 2013

bribe

The teacher was first showing them how to fall. Bend the knees, fall forward and keep the arms on the side. Then he was making them fall down deliberately. Finally he let them to practice the skating. They kept falling down anyway, sometimes correctly, sometimes not. Either way, it was not a pleasant experience.
There were tears and franatic cries, "Mama!". Daivik kept falling down too and not completely comfortable with the situation.

After the class was over, he saw me and came running, with the skates on, and without falling down. "Appa, I kept falling down", he said, teary eyed.  "The teacher asked us to fall down all the time" he said and declared "I don't like the teacher, I don't want to skate". "But you did not fall down now", I said, to encourage him. This only made it worse. "I don't like the teacher, I don't want to skate", he cried again. The teacher was approaching us with a big smile. Daivik was facing me and did not see him coming. He started repeating his mantra "I was falling so many times, I don't like the teacher, I don't want to skate". The teacher, unaware of his current status with Daivik, patted him on the back, said "Daivik, you did very well", gave him some chocolates and walked away. It took about 3 seconds to happen. Daivik could not believe his eyes.  A heavily rationed item lands on its own accord, right into his palm. He is thrilled. Somehow, miraculously, the tears metamorph into a broad smile. "Appa", he declares, "I love my teacher, I love skating".

Monday, May 20, 2013

truly beautiful

Daivik and me were in a park. It was one of those rare moments when he was playing by himself, which allowed me time to do something else. I was in the middle of it when he came and told me that he wanted to show something. I said I was busy. He went away, but came back immediately saying he wanted to show me something "beautiful". I was still busy, he went away but came back again, tugged my hand and said, "Appa, come, I want to show you something truly beautiful". The use of that adjective intrigued me. Whatever I was doing cannot be more important than finding out what my son considered "truly beautiful".  He led me to a little slope that was covered with Dandelions, some of them were still in their blazing yellows but most of them had dried out, forming neat little golf balls that were sitting pretty on their long stems. It was indeed, truly, beautiful.


After admiring this beauty we went back to our respective things. Later on, we were walking back and Daivik was happily chattering away. As I turned to the right,  my eyes fell on a large area, about the size of a  foot ball field, covered with Dandelions. They were  in direct sun, bigger, swaying gently to the rhythms of the breeze and every now and then dislodging  a puff of the dandelion snow. I tapped his shoulders and without a word gently turned his head towards that field.  As his eyes fell on those Dandelions, Daivik stopped his chatter. He stood transfixed. Both me and the Dandelions were eagerly waiting for a word from him. If that little slope was "truly beautiful", what was he going to say for this vastness of Dandelions ? It was one of those moments, whatever he was going to say was bound to be precious. After several moments of a truly beautiful silence, he looked at me, flashed a brilliant smile and said, quite simply, "wow".

Of course, nature made the Dandelion blooms truly beautiful. It has also devised ingenious methods to enable their propagation to ensure a continuation of that beauty. We tend to think that the wind aids in dispersing the seeds. However, that is only partly true. Nature does not rely entirely on such stochastic occurrences. It wants to be absolutely sure that those delicate seeds are efficiently dispersed . What does it do ? It sends little boys, it sends Daivik. So, after this rather intimate admiration of beauty, Daivik stepped into the field and urged me to join him in what he called as 'Pustebloom race'. The objective was simple : to disperse as many florets from the blooms over as large an area as possible. Before the race began, he initiated me into its intricacies. Apparently it is not quite as simple as plucking one of them and blowing into it. I was astounded by my ignorance in this critical area. You have to hold the stem firmly but not too close to the flower (otherwise it will not bend and the flakes cannot go far), the speed and the angle in which you blow is critical (otherwise many flakes will fall down together, and that is not good), if the wind is against you, you have to blow harder (otherwise all the flakes will fall on you)...


So, we began the race. Soon enough, it was obvious who was going to win. The odds were stacked against me. He was clearly more practiced in this art than me. In order to educate myself better, I picked up a flower, sat on my knees and turned towards him with an objective of  observing his methods more closely.  However, I had to stop my education as the scene I encountered  froze me. It is an image that demands being accurately photographed and carefully framed. I have neither the right camera nor the required skills to do justice to that moment, but its memory lingers : Daivik is on the slightly blurred foreground. His lips are pursed in a delightful joy as he is blowing into the bloom.The still soft late spring sun is somewhere behind his head. It causes the moisture on the lips to glisten and casts a mini-halo around the edges of his hairs. The Dandelion bloom, under the force of his carefully calculated blow, is slightly bent away from him. In the process, it dislodges tens of little florets into the blue sky. The florets appear in sharp focus as they gently parachute down in the still air.

Truly beautiful, indeed.

Saturday, May 18, 2013

evolution

Daivik was excited to see the well preserved complete skeleton of the super-large Dinosaurs at the Berlin Natural History Museum. As a souvenir we brought a replica Dino that could open and close its jaws at the pull of a trigger.

And that was how Daivik ended up becoming the all powerful 'Dino-master', who could command the Dino to eat up things or people that did not obey his wishes. Like the tram that did not stop when he signaled for it. Or the Dad that did not turn on the games in the computer.  

When he insisted on having more gummy bears, I  played the Dino game and  told him that there are no more gummy bears in the supermarket because a Dino walked into the shop and ate them all up. It was acceptable to have a Dino under his command, but when I told him about its appetite for gummy bears, he grew skeptical. "But there are no Dinos any more", he said, not very confidently. "Where are they", I asked and he replied,  "they are all gone, they are all dead". What followed was interesting, it would have made Darwin proud. "How did they die?", I asked. He thought for a moment and said, "They got old and died. And there were no more Dinos left". That made sense, but I told him, "But what happened to the baby Dino's then. There are also kinder Dinos. They will grow up and become big again". This idea was new to him. He thought about it seriously. After some intense moments, he declared boldly, "Actually, there are two types of Dinos. One with wings and one without. The one without wings got wings and they became birds. That is why we see many birds now and no Dinos".


Wednesday, May 15, 2013

ten heads, twenty eyes

I was showing Daivik images of Ravana, the demon emperor from the epic Ramayana. Ravana, with his ten heads, was bound to elicit Daivik's curiosity. I was wondering what he might ask. The most obvious question was why does he have ten heads ? Instead, he asked something far more interesting. "What does he do with ten heads?". This question took me off the tangent and I ended up wondering how exactly does Ravana control and co-ordinate all the thoughts that arise and criss-cross across all of his heads. One head is already sometimes a little too much for me...

Daivik was waiting for an answer. Without thinking much about it, I asked, "So, if he has ten heads, how many noses does he have". "Ten", replied Daivik promptly. "And how many eyes?", I asked.
Daivik thought for a moment and hesitantly ventured, "ten?".  I asked him to explain it, he could not. Then I told, "Okay, he has ten heads and two eyes in each head. So how many eyes does he have in total?". Instinctively Daivik pulled his fingers out to count. But then, how exactly does one count things when it is not clear what needed to be counted. Fingers frozen mid-air, he asked, "What do you count?". "This is called multiplication", I said and tried to explain the concept to him. However, I stopped soon enough as it was getting a little complicated. Addition, subtraction and the concept of zero were easy. How do you explain multiplication in a fun way ? (and, later on, division, division by zero...)

At school, we were forced to commit the multiplication charts to memory first. (from 1x1 all the way upto 20x20!). Perhaps the assumption behind it was that once you have the facts ingrained, understanding and appreciation of it will follow, or can be thought later. Maybe that is true. But, while forcing that commitment was easy, teaching that appreciation was not. Since people largely tend to do what is easy, the said appreciation never quite followed. For me personally, the intricate beauty of Mathematics (and Physics) remain sadly buried behind those scary formulas. I wonder now if it should be the other way around. First teach the appreciation, facts can follow.

As I was mulling over this, Daivik offered me a way out. "Is it the same as ten plus ten", he asked.

That's right, yes, of course, exactly, that is what it is.

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

The evolution of the Tantyawagh


Tantyawagh (tant - ya - wagh) : The mysterious creature who patrols the streets at 8 pm. But why does he  carry a large sack with him ? Shhh. Perhaps, just perhaps, to fill it up with little children who refuse to go to bed ?

---

Ever since people started having babies and ever since kids started refusing to sleep on time, Tantyawagh has come to the rescue of harried parents. Nobody knows why he carries that sack or what he does with it.  But legend has it that it might be meant for kids refusing to sleep. Of course, it could not be true. But then nobody is sure about it, so why take a chance ?  If it is true, no kid would like to end up inside the sack, right ?

Now, as the Tantyawagh keeps roaming the streets at bed time, kids keep growing up too. And when they grow, they start getting rational. So rational infact that they start doubting the very existence of Tantyawagh  "Where is he ? Why have I not seen him ? Show him to me", they tell you. But you know they exist. Not only do they exist, they evolve too. So, while the kids are growing up, getting rational and all that, the Tantyawagh as cloned himself and made different avatars of himself. Infact, he has entered into a collaboration with Noddy and has became the 'big ears' Tantyawagh who can hear the minutest of whispers of kids who don't sleep), the 'big nose' Tantyawagh who can smell non-sleeping kids from far away, he infact has a particular affinity for freshly bathed kids), 'the big eyes' Tantyawagh (who can see the eyes of kids who are not sleeping)...

Every evening, they have their Tantyawagh conference at the street corner, deciding who goes into which street for their patrol. Sometimes they team up and come in pairs. Somehow, these evenings coincide with I-will-not-sleep-now tantrums. On these evenings, one has  to be extra careful and go to sleep right away.

How long does this surveillance continue ? Do the kids outgrow them ? Will the Tantyawagh top evolving ? These are very pertinent questions. My guess is, if kids go to bed by themselves, on time, every time, and learn to perfection the intricate art of not troubling their parents and listening to them on first call, Tantyawagh and their clones (and their cousins)(yup they exist too) will ease up slowly and possibly, eventually, will go elsewhere, to other streets, to other kids... 

Saturday, May 4, 2013

patterns

"Vaa - pi - ano", chirped Daivik as he was getting out of bed one bright morning. This is becoming a pattern now. When something exciting is going to happen the next day, such as boarding a plane, he goes to bed with that thought in mind, apparently sleeps with it and springs to life the next morning with that excitement. This morning, that exciting thing was Vapiano. It is the name of the restaurant he was going for lunch, along with a bunch of his friends from the kindergarten. The restaurant houses a small pasta manufacturing unit. The kids were touring the factory as a part of their kitchen project. The idea was they will make the pasta themselves and then have it for lunch.

It was a cakewalk to get him ready for the day (why don't they take him to Vapiano everyday !). He was all excitement and was telling for the twenty fifth time about how they were going to make the pasta, with the details varying slightly each time. When we reached the kindergarten, the teachers had laid out a large map of the city. There was an excited buzz around the map. The kids were supposed to figure out the route to Vapiano. Daivik joined in. Here is another pattern. There was so much excitement in the air and Daivik was keen to share it. Only it was taking the form of a real time commentary, an obvious account of an event that you are watching yourself. (Ravi Shastri, anyone?!). "Mom, see, there is a map", "you know, we have to tell the teachers how to go there", "see, Frank, Judie, Kuby, they are all trying to find it out", "see, the teachers are checking if they are correct"...

I could only imagine the rest of his day. Of him identifying a partner, holding his / her hands and walking in rows of two to the bus stop, waiting there, boarding the bus, going to the factory, settling down, listening to the brief, wearing the 'uniform', watching them make the pasta, and then making and messing it themselves, settling down for lunch, returning back...But I knew I will not hear any of this from him.  Here is another emerging pattern, a distinctly adult-like one. By the time I ask him about his day in the evening, the events will be long in the past. An exciting event is over, and along with it, that excitement too. A thing to look forward to losing its magic in the act of being attained.

Sure enough, later in the evening when I asked him about his day he shrugged and gave an impatient reply, "made pasta, ate pasta".

Friday, May 3, 2013

puddles

It had rained a while ago. Daivik and me were walking back home. As we turned a corner, I saw the pavement ahead leading to home. But Daivik saw something else, he saw joy. Simple, pure joy. The pavement was full of puddles of water of varying sizes. He stepped into one spontaneously and looked at me carefully for my reaction. I didn't say anything but waited for him to finish his thing. He jumped into the second, I waited. He jumped into the third, I waited. Fourth, fifth...twentieth. I waited, waited, it ended up being a long and silent walk home, but I wasn't thinking anything in particular. I did however remember this cute video and was smiling at myself.



Daivik is considerably older than the kid in the video. At some point he is going to stop jumping into the puddles. I was hoping to myself that this point does not arrive any time soon. At the end of the road, as we entered home he came up to me and said  "Appa, you are my best friend". "You know why", he continued, "because, you let me jump in the water and waited for me".  

Monday, April 29, 2013

three goats, four dogs and a bus driver


When we were in India last December, we decided to give Daivik a real taste of the place. We took him for a ride on a local bus from our home to the central bus stand, a journey of about 40 minutes.  The bus was not very crowded when we boarded and Daivik, after a few confusing moments to choose from the multiple empty seats on offer, decided to take the seat in the front, near the driver.

The architecture of a typical city bus in India is, well, a little different than a typical European city bus. Daivik noticed it immediately.  Even before sitting down completely, he started off.  “Mom, why is he driving on the other side?” The bus was naturally air conditioned,  the windows were fully open. “Why are the windows open?”, “Why is there no door”, “Who is that man with the whistle?” (the bus conductor, who sells tickets inside the bus and whistles to the driver about the stops)(“I want that whistle too”),”What is this bell for?” (that 'bell' is a rather charming feature of the buses from the region, a real physical metal bell, like a miniature version of a temple bell, positioned near the driver and tied to a rope that passes all the way across the bus, so that passengers can pull it to signal the driver to request a stop) (“I want to pull it”), “why is the driver wearing this uniform”…By now the bus was filling up and the seats were being taken. As people boarded the bus and heard the little boy with all these questions, they were sitting down to a changed mood and a smile.

Just then a street dog tucked under the bus. The nonplussed driver ignored it and continued. Daivik was all exclamation, “Mummy, mummy, look, look, the dog went under the bus”.  People nearby started laughing. The bus was continuing smoothly. Daivik insisted , “What happened to the dog?”. “It must have run away”, said his mother. “But I saw it getting under the bus”, said Daivik. “Dogs can run away quite fast”, replied his mother. Daivik had one of his moments of inspiration. He first asked, “Mummy, what will happen if a goat comes?”. “It will also run away”, said his mother. Now, this has become a pattern. The question he asked was not his real question. The real real question was more complicated, and came next. “Okay, what will happen if one goat, one dog, one more goat, one more dog, another goat and another dog stand in a line on the road”. I started imagining that row of alternative goats and dogs, standing across the length of the road and waiting for the incoming bus. The bus driver apparently saw that vision too. Inwardly shuddering at that nightmare, he took his eyes off the road, turned to Daivik and aksed, “Thambi, what’s your name?”.

Daivik got suddenly shy and buried his head in his mother’s knees. Suddenly there were comments all over. “What an intelligent boy”, “So many questions”, “What an imagination” (!) and compliments to his mother as well, “How do you keep answering them so patiently”.

We reached the central bus stand. Everybody was in big smiles and started patting Daivik on the shoulders, pinching his cheeks and waving on his hairs as they got down.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Brotherhood


"Mummy, can I break the bathroom tap?"
"No, Daivik"
"Can I break the kitchen tap?"
"No, Daivik"
"Can I atleast leave it open?"
"No, Daivik"
"Why can I not do anything?"




Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Daughters are gentle

While sons are brats. Or so goes the conventional wisdom (applicable to daughters and sons in the age groups 0 to 10. Or is it 15 ? 20? 40?). Anyway, let me explain what happened today. But before that I’ll take a detour and introduce you to the most important problem in life. Which is, of course, finding the glasses in the morning. Now, if you, like me, are not a particularly morning person, you will understand when I define morning as that time lag between the eyes opening up and the brain opening up (never mind that on some days the latter never quite happens). So, getting up to a dazed vision and ploughing through the maze of thoughts before realizing that the daze of the vision is actually due to lack of glasses and from there for the next thought to dawn that the solution for this is to get the glasses on and from there to figure out where it was kept last and from there to actually get down to the task of finding the glasses (without the glasses on, of course)…uff, tough life. Fortunately for me, Daivik, the darling he is, has stepped in. He has taken upon himself the onerous task of finding the glasses and has bestowed upon himself the honorific title of ‘glass finder’ (he is also, by the way, my ‘coffee maker’, a privileged task that involves pushing a button)(he knows that privilege part). Since then, my life has become infinitely easier, and the mornings pleasantly bright and startlingly, well, clear.

Now cut to today. As usual the battle between the eyes opening and brains opening was on. Akshara, the gentle daughter, the early riser, had made sure that whatever little pleasure that exists in those extra five minutes in bed remains firmly in the realms of stuff that dreams are made of. I was stumbling my way out of the bed when I saw her walking in. Daivik came running past her with an excited tone. “Appa, appa, look, Akshara, look, she..”. He was choked, he could not complete the sentence. I thought something had happened to her. But through my glassless perspective, she seemed fine, she was approaching me with a typical toddler gait and as she came closer the brightness of her smile came into focus and indeed it started brightening up all the things around her. I smiled too, but Daivik tried again. “Appa, look, Akshara, look, she…”. She was still walking in, still smiling and as she closed in, she raised both her hands as if offering me something. That is when I saw what Daivik wanted me to see.  On each of her raised hands were my glasses, ex-glasses rather, neatly split into two pieces. With a full smile on, she was urging me to take the glasses.

Daivik found the words. “Appa, see, she broke your glasses”. I wanted to laugh, but this was serious matter. I looked at Akshara and told with a stern voice (I think), “Why did you break the glass?”. Perhaps she realized something was amiss and that she was in the center of it. She  lowered her gaze and very carefully placed the glasses on the edge of the bed and with the head down and eyes averted, waited. After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes up without moving the head and finding me still waiting for an answer immediately averted her eyes and very slowly, very purposefully, walked away. Daivik was still dumbfolded. A glass that was never broken in his lifetime was suddenly broken. “Appa, see, she broke your glasses”, he said again. And suddenly overwhelmed with an enormous amount of care, added “oh, how will you see again”.

Friday, April 5, 2013

what's for lunch

"Daivik, what did you have for lunch in the kita today?"
"I don't know"
"Have you already forgotten?"
"No, I remember. But I will not tell you"
"Why will you not tell me?"
"I don't want to tell you"
"Shall I tell you one story?"
"Yes, yes, yes, tell me"
"There was a kita with lot of kids. They were having lunch..."
"Is it my kita ?"
"The children had Dosa for lunch"
"But we had Pasta"
"and they had Chutney with their dosa"
"But we had Cheese Sauce".

Monday, April 1, 2013

counter balance

Daivik wanted to have another bubble gum. I did not want him to gorge on them. I had the packet of gums with me, so I could say no. But he is getting smarter these days. He said, "Can you give me that packet, but I will not eat it". Getting a little logical, I asked, "If you will not eat it, why do you need the packet ?". He ignored my logic and said, "I promise, I will not eat. Can you give me the packet please?". "Okay, if you promise so". I gave him the packet and decided to check out on the fate of the packet. But he was prepared for that.  He demanded, "You should promise to not check me". "Okay, I promise", I said.

I realised that something very interesting was happening. Our objectives were clear, that he wanted to eat it and that I did not want it to happen (again).  I had lost control on the packet but now had his word. He in turn had my word that I will respect his trust. So we had locked ourselves with a series of trusts and balances.  How will this pan out ? How long can it last ? To dramatize it a bit, in the battle between temptation and honor which was going to win ?

At that point, we were on a boat and not in a particular hurry to go anywhere.  There was a glass wall  in front of us and through that wall I glimpsed the battle.  He was pretending to open the packet, pretending to put it in his mouth and pretending to chew on it, hoping that I will 'catch' him in the act. But I paid no attention. So he called me out and with a hidden smile, pointed his chewing mouth. I acted surprised and said, "But that is not allowed, you have given me a promise to not eat it". So he opened his mouth and showed me that it was empty, taking great pleasure in fooling me into believing that he had broken the promise.

With more time passing, I thought he might forget about it. But the packet was still in his hand, he was actively massaging it, feeling it, smelling it, but not opening it. Apparently, having the object of temptation close to you is an effective way of resisting it ! After one full  hour of this, he asked if he could break the promise (he used the German word kaputt). I explained to him that 'promise' and 'break' do not go very well together. But we needed a solution as well, so we decided to "conditionally relieve the promise". The conditions were, a) he gives back the packet to me, b) this is the last bubble gum of the day, c) he has to share it with me. He agreed to them readily and the package exchanged hands. I gave him one piece that he was supposed to split up, I had assumed a split of 50:50, but he decided that a better ratio was 95:5, in his favour, of course. My protests were in vain, "But you did not specify it should be 50 : 50". Finally we agreed on 70 : 30.

He was very pleased with the whole episode. As the boat was gently rocking by, he put the 0.7 gum in his mouth, gave me a satisfied smile, cuddled into my arms and said, "You are my best friend".

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Five Springs

Today is Daivik's birthday !

He went to bed last night with this thought in mind and got up very early in the morning. "Appa, amma, wake up, today is my birthday. Yahooo, I'm the first to get up". So, we got up too and wished him.

The cliche - how fast time flies - cannot be more true. Five years is a long time, but it can also warp us and appear to whiz past in a few seconds, sometimes selectively, sometimes excruciatingly slowly. How can time fly past slowly ?! It seems almost outside of the grasp of perception. Of course there are changes. How dramatic, yet how subtle !  Viewed on an everyday timescale, we hardly notice any difference in kids growing up. They don't change a lot from one day to another. But when somebody who meets them after awhile says (invariably!), "oh, how much you've grown", it never fails to surprise (or amuse !).

Five years is long enough for a 1.6 kg premature infant to cross the wonderlands of infanthood and mature into a  ever-smiling charming young boy, but seems like yesterday when we were celebrating every single gram of weight he was gaining. It is long enough for sounds to acquire meanings, morph into words and resolve into distinct languages. It is long enough to acquire proficiency in communicating effectively in four of them, but, it is also long enough for us to wonder : what, exactly, were his first words, and in which of the those languages ? But the single most important aspect of the five year mark is the list of the firsts. No other five year period in life is going to beat that in numbers, or rapidity, or abruptness, or the charms and innocence associated. That first poop (!), that first cry,that first smile (we were so thrilled when he smiled at us directly...until he was also smiling equally charmingly at that stupid toy), that first step (in Daivik's case, it was propelled by a desire to reach out to his dad :)), that first word (what was that again, Dad?)...

There is another first too. It is also the birthday where he was very much aware of its coming, and participated actively in its organization ("I want a pirate cake") and decided which of his friends gets a share (and who not!). (An aside : Right now, he now has three 'levels' of friendships, indicated by the thumbs of an outstretched hand : if the thumb is down, you are a not-friend, if it is level, you are a half-friend, if it is up, you are a best-friend. So, whoever is lucky to be thumbs-up today gets a share of that cake ! For the record, I keep shuttling between the three levels depending on the context and circumstance ('appa, can I have another chocolate', 'no', thumbs down)).

It is still charming, there is still no demand ("I want a two night stay in Disneyland as my birthday 'gift' "), but these might probably be the first firsts of the next five year program !

Happy birthday Daivik. 

Friday, March 22, 2013

a midnight walk


I remember a toy that I once saw in a design shop. It is a squirrel that has a ball attached to its mouth. The ball keeps rolling forwards and side wards while the squirrel follows it in a jumpy motion, in a futile attempt to catch something that is already there.

Akshara was like that little squirrel, trying to grab an invisible ball. One moment she was lying flat, the next she moved sidewards, the next moment she turned over, all the while her head remaining where it was. She was actually trying to find a suitable position to fall back to sleep. She had just woken up at midnight and was perhaps not comprehending the environment completely. I had the perfectly good intention of wanting to help her back to sleep but she mistook my approach as an invitation to play. All the associated genes got activated immediately as she sat up with a broad smile and sparkling eyes. No, no, no...NO, that's not what I mean, what I mean is this : go back to sleep. But those genes were already on.  I exhausted all my tricks to put her back to bed, but those genes stayed firmly on. She was showing no sign of sleeping, what to do ? Now, past midnight is not a particularly good time for patience to flow in abundance. In exasperation I said, okay, do what you want, and pretended to sleep. All the lights were off, everybody were asleep and Akshara suddenly had all the home to herself. All the freedom to herself. No one to tell her where to not go or what to not take (or break). But there was a conundrum. What to do with all this freedom ? She stood for a minute, looking around, as if considering her options. Then she decided to take a walk ! With the middle and ring fingers firmly in the mouth, looking all around the familiar scenes in the unfamiliar setting of perfect stillness and darkness, she wandered from room to room, back and forth...

After sometime I decided to join her in the walk and softly treaded behind her. She felt my presence, turned back and looked up. I gave my fingers and she grabbed them. We walked to her bed and I let her gently in. The next moment she was asleep !

Thursday, March 14, 2013

cola and cigarette

"Mummy, can I have a cola"
"No, Daivik. It is not good for your health"
"why"
"Because it is junk food"
"why"
"Because it has no nutrition. It has no Vitamins, no minerals"
"Then why do they sell it in super market"
"You don't have to buy everything they sell"
"Then why do people buy it?"
"May be they don't know it is bad for health"
"Like cigarette?"
"What?"
"Cigarette is bad for health, but some people smoke"
"Hmmm, you could say that"

Several minutes of silence later,

"Mummy, I want to have a cola"
"But Daivik, it is a junk food"
"But I want to have it"
"Why?"
"Because I love it".

We use neither cola nor cigarette at home, wonder where this "love" comes from !

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

altruism

I had taken a bar of chocolate as an evening snack for Daivik when I went to pick him up from the kindergarten. He opened it right away and it was about to disappear down his throat when Julia came running by. Daivik rescued the chocolate from its near death and wanted to offer half to her. But how do you offer half a bar of chocolate without breaking it ? He ended up placing the chocolate on air, close to her mouth. His intention was perhaps that she takes a (hopefully small) bite and he can carry on with the rest. Julia had another interpretation. What if Daivik was offering the whole chocolate ?  She felt an immediate joy and grabbed the bar with both the hands. Daivik did not let it go. So the bar was choco-witched between the four arms even as Daivik was trying to convey to her that she was supposed to just take a bite and Julia was trying to convince him that he was not supposed to take back what he had offered.  The wrestling continued for a while and Julia finally managed to grab the chocolate and make a dash. They were in the first floor of the kindergarten which has an open rectangular space in the middle overlooking the atrium below and a long corridor running around. They started running  along the corridor chasing each other with a raised bar of chocolate changing hands frequently, accompanied by raised voices and tears. Antagonism, apparently, is just a step behind altruism ! The teacher intervened and, having figured out what happened, gave the bar to Daivik and took Julia gently away.

Daivik, still teary eyed, came to me and demanded to know "Why did you not bring two chocolates ? See, Julia is crying".  

Sunday, March 10, 2013

some more pages

Some of you asked me why I'm not writing enough about Daivik's little sister, Akshara (18 months). No real reason, so here we go :

Continuing the theme of one day in the life equals one page of this mysterious book, here is a look-back on few more random pages, in no particular order.


***
It has been your favorite game  for a while now, lying on the floor, face-up and looking at things from a hundred and eighty degrees. Upside down lateral inversion is apparently funny. So you position yourself on the floor when I'm having dinner and call me out. I look down at you and smile. You flash your magic smile, now filled with five pearls, three in the top row and two below. You realize that I'm eating something and you want it too. You signify your intent by raising your arms. I offer you a rice waffle, admittedly not one of your favorite snack. I have no idea how a  rice waffle looks when viewed  upside down and turned 180 degree. But evidently you understand what it is. Without moving an inch from your position, you turn your head sideways firmly to tell no, this is not what I want and start protesting that you want something else.

***
It is dinner time. You are perched on top of your high chair. It is the only occasion when you can communicate with us at an equal height, without having to strain your neck. Your brother is, as usual, making a fuss with his plate. We trying to alternatively  cajole, convince, threat him to get the food down his throat. He is obviously not too keen  and out-of-the-blue says something very funny without quite intending it to be. Your mother and I burst into a spontaneous laughter and your brother, not quite understanding why we are laughing, nevertheless joins in. You are busy with your food, smudging and smearing it on your face, on the hairs, on your chair, on the table, everywhere. You are distracted by the sounds of the laughter, look up and look at each of us individually with questioning eyes. Then you pause, let out a smile and start laughing too.

***
Ever since you took your first steps, there has been no looking back to the days when your primary mode of transport was by using all four limbs. The switch was both abrupt and dramatic. Another lesson to learn from little children : how to effectively leave the past behind ! Now, one big advantage of walking on two legs instead of crawling on all four is that it leaves your hands free. So you can, for example, carry things.

You bring the spider-man mask of your brother and insist that I wear it. Do you even know what it is ?
I wear it and your father is transformed into something you don't recognize. Right away you take a step back. Instantaneously, your lips purse, your chin trembles and your eyes swell as you start to cry. I remove the mask, and as if by a switch, the cry transforms to a laugh. But then you want me to wear the mask again. I wear it and you step back and start crying again !

Friday, March 8, 2013

on the plane

Daivik knew the route to India : first take a taxi to the train station, then take a train to the airport and finally take the plane to India. The day before we were supposed to fly he had told all his friends in kindergarten how he will go to India (taxi-train-plane). The evening before the travel, there was still some packing to be done. We were hoping to complete it after he sleeps. But Daivik refused to go to bed on time ("otherwise we will miss the taxi"), on top of which he insisted that he will "help" us.

Early the next morning he was deep in sleep but it was time to leave. How to wake him up ? He had not slept enough and there was a long journey ahead...I went close to his ears and whispered very, very gently "t...a...x...i". Perhaps it was a magic word I had tapped into inadvertently. One moment he was in deep sleep, next moment he sat bolt upright and the next he jumped out of the bed and was urging me ("appa, let's go let's go"). It was an incredible thing for him to watch the taxi arrive. A long awaited event was actually happening, right in front of his eyes !

I thought he might sleep on the plane, but he wanted to play, he wanted to watch tv, he wanted to take a walk, he wanted to drink juice (again), he wanted to not eat (when they got  him the food), he wanted to eat (when they took away the  trays). We changed planes midway and he lost himself in the glitter of the middle east, in the shine of the airport floors, in the dazzling brightness all around...the final plane to India was very much to his liking. There were 4-5 kids his age (!) in the plane all of whom got over their unfamiliarity with an amazing rapidity, synchronized right away and started running the aisles and tugging and pulling and hiding and laughing and crying...It was THE most amazing crew I have flown with. They were ever smiling and seemingly not bothered at the kindergarten like atmosphere.

Incredibly, after almost 16 hours of non-sleep, one taxi, one train and two planes, Daivik was a still a bundle of energy (from where does it come??) when they announced landing and the smiling air hostess cajoled the kids to their seats and put on their belts. Perhaps it was the gentleness of the descent, perhaps it was the dimming of the lights, perhaps it was the magic of the air hostess, Daivik fell into sleep right away. But there was one comical moment. As the plane started descending, he literally flowed under his seat belt, like in the Tom and Jerry cartoons, and hit the floor below, immediately finding an alternate position to continue his sleep. I put him back on the seat and he continued to sleep. He continued his sleep as the plane touched down, as we collected our bags, as we walked out of the plane, as we waited in the immigration lines, as we collected our luggage, as we went out of the airport into the crowd and bustle, into the pouring rain, as we arranged the luggage in the car, as we drove home, as we removed back all the luggage....

It was 4 AM and the end of a long trip. We were all looking forward to hit the bed. Daivik was in deep sleep now, so I laid him gently on the bed and was about the get into it myself when he asked in half-sleep, "Appa, have we reached India". "Yes, Daivik", I said. He sat upright again, rubbed his eyes, said, "Yahooooo" and jumped out of the bed. "Appa, come with me" he said, dragging me by hand as he right away started exploring "India".

  

Thursday, March 7, 2013

why


First you have to watch this video :)




A friend had posted it on facebook and I was watching this when Daivik joined me. He apparently enjoyed it, laughing each time there was a background laughter. I was not sure how much he understood. But at the end of it he asked if I can play it again. I did, and he started laughing all over again. By the time it ended, I was pretty sure he was going to react, but what was he going to say...

Immediately after the video ended he asked me, "Appa, what is the time now?". What ? I was expecting something related to this video and he is asking me the time. "Eight", I replied, falling into his trap. He flashed a smile mixing it generously with a giggle and in exactly the same tone as the little girl in the video asked, "WHY?".

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Quantification

Daivik and me were trying to work together, in this case it was supposed to be some learning exercises. He was obviously getting bored and partly to cover it up and partly to divert me he said in a distracted voice,
"Appa, I love you". Having learnt the lesson from him earlier, I responded - correctly I thought - "I love you, too". He giggled, and said "I love you, three", making a pun on the word 'too'. I played along, saying "I love you, four". This went on for a while and  at one point he made a big jump and said, "I love you thousand".

Until not too long ago, his numerical skills ended at ten, matching with the number of fingers he could count. It had recently expanded several folds to hundred, and I thought was currently saturating at thousand. So I asked, "Is there something larger than thousand". He surprised me by saying, "Yes I know, it is called million". Okay, time for some lessons now ! So, I told him there are numbers bigger than million and introduced him to billion and trillion and was trying to tell him the concept of so many zeros after the one. He got bored again but asked me, "Appa, what is bigger than trillion". "Trillion and one", I said, trying to hide my ignorance of numbers higher on the log scale. He seemed okay with that answer and started to look around for his mother. He spotted her, ran to her and said excitedly, "Mom, I love you trillion and one".

There you go, it is "thousand" for dad and "trillion plus one" for mom :)

Thursday, February 28, 2013

assistant

One fine evening, Daivik declared, "I have made Tina my assistant". Rashi and me were startled and asked him simultaneously :
"How, exactly, did you make her your assistant?"
"What, exactly, does she assist you with?"

He answered us one by one.
"I asked her if she will be my assistant and she said okay".

The second one requires some explanation. Now, kids and order (as in keeping things in order) are mutually exclusive. Proper maintenance of the book shelf  is therefore a perennial issue in the kindergarten. The way the teachers deal with strewn books is to call for a "meeting" with the kids and "encourage" them to keep the books back. So Daivik had recruited Tina to do it for him !

Couple of days later we asked him about Tina. "She is not my assistant anymore". And why ? "She refused to keep my books back". I should have been there to witness this scene - Daivik asking Tina to keep the books back, she refusing, and his reaction to that refusal ! He made a sad face and said
"Now I have to keep all the books back myself". He contemplated on this for a moment and added,
"bechara main re" (Oh, poor me).

Thursday, February 21, 2013

at the hairdresser

Daivik's hairs had grown wild, like an unkept lawn. I, like a lazy gardener, was letting nature take its course until intervention came in the form of his mother. So, we marched to the neighbourhood hairdresser. Where a surprise awaited me. Turned out that Daivik has a favourite hairdresser there, Jenny, and he actually insisted on having her services. He settled into his chair and as Jenny covered him with a multi-color sheet having cats, spiders and cows, he started  a conversation. Jenny responded, and what followed was fun to watch. She was expertly balancing speed and precision on a target that refused to be still and he was filling her up with important details of his life. "Actually, I don't drink coffee. Because I'm a small boy". "You know, my best friend is Kuby. He is from Czech republic. But I'm not from Czech republic, because you know I'm from India". "But I don't like Jimmy"...

They started an intense negotiation on whether he should get a gummi-bear or a loli-pop after the haircut is over  ("both") and he started giving her wise counsel on how to eat a loli-pop ("slowly, but you must not but you must not bite it"). The place was filled mostly with elderly women on their monthly rendezvous. As Daivik kept up his banter, they stopped their gossip and were listening in, discretely at first but soon started laughing politely and pretty soon helplessly heartily. Daivik even attracted new customers. An elderly gentleman who was passing by peeped in to see what the gaiety was all about and ended up getting an appointment !

Somehow, in between unnecessary facts, unsolicited advice and eighty seven why's, Jenny managed to hold the conversation, suppress her laughter and cut his hairs. What a feat ! The whole place became noticeably cheerful as we were leaving. Everybody waved us enthusiastic good-byes !

Sunday, February 17, 2013

good boy

There is still about 200 meters to reach home. I'm balancing a bicycle with a flat tyre on one hand and a shopping bag on the other. Daivik is running ahead of me in a zig-zag random manner but in the general direction of home. Walking towards us is an elderly couple, arms locked, taking slow measured steps. About a hundred meters ahead is a small - usually empty - road crossing, which Daivik is fast approaching. The lady points at the road and the little boy to her husband. A wild boy, unleashed, rushing headlong into the bad roads, oh my God, perhaps it is too much for her. They stop on their tracks. The lady looks at me, looks at Daivik and looks at the road. She clenches her fingers and leans forward to get a better look at what-happens-next. I'm reasonably sure that Daivik will stop at the crossing. But then who can ever predict how anybody - Daivik, or non-Daivik - will behave at a given moment ?

Daivik, oblivious to this intense scrutiny rushes towards the road crossing, showing no signs of even noticing it. I contemplate calling him when he reaches the edge of the pavement. One more step, he is on the road. This might have been a good moment to check the pulse of the lady ! Suddenly, like a truck power braking at 120 kmph, Daivik grinds to an abrupt halt. The couple relax and breathe  as Daivik turns back to look at me. I tell him to wait there for me and he begins his impatient 'wait', hands on hips and legs shuffling laterally.

By now I cross the couple. They smile, the gentleman nods and says, "Good boy".

Indeed :) 

Saturday, February 16, 2013

mosquito man

We went to visit a relative in India. They had two large mango trees outside their home. Several large green unripe mangoes were dangling down, hanging in there like tear drops just about to fall.  Of course, Daivik wanted them out of the tree. Right away. Now, plucking mangoes - ripe or not - direct from the tree  is one of the unquantifiable pleasures of life. And of course, unripe mangoes, with a generous sprinkling of chilli powder tastes exactly like heaven. Whether Daivik finds it hot or not. Plus, you can mix it with plenty of mint and lemon to make a fantastic chutney. Whether Daivik prefers it or not. So, we had plenty of incentives to relieve those mangoes from the strain of gravity.

Question was how. The trees were massive and the mangoes were quite high up. There was nothing to climb on, except the tree itself. But it was evening, the light was fading fast. And there were mosquitoes  Plenty of them : huge, buzzing, menacing.  It was an epic battle against the elements. We took a long pole, attached a hook to one end and did monkey jumps with it, hoping to dislodge some mangoes. Boy, did Daivik miss his trampoline !

Eventually we got our mangoes. Yahoo. But the mosquitoes had their revenge too. The next morning, Daivik woke up with prominent bite marks, some of which had swelled up a bit. He was quite fascinated and observed them closely. Then he grew serious and in a voice that did not betray his emotions asked me,  "Appa, will I now become a mosquito man ?".  It was still that phase of the morning when reality is not  readily distinguishable from dream. He explained to me. "See, spiderman was bitten by a spider and he became a spiderman. Now, I'm bitten by mosquito, so I will become a mosquito man". Hmmm.

Spiderman, superman, batman...move aside, we have a new super hero !! Wonder how he will look, though.

(Can cartoonist friends figure it out. Sujeet?)


what else

Daivik was very excited about "going to India". We were preparing him for the trip for a while and when we actually landed in India, he was all wide-eyed, curious and shy all at once. I was wondering how a four year old would comprehend the concept of a country, much less a culture. I thought, rather simplistically, that for Daivik, India was simply a place where his grandparents lived. Once we slept off the jet-lag, I took Daivik for a walk around the neighbourhood. He was asking questions about  the houses around ("why we don't see this flower in Germany") and generally about India when we reached the end of the road. I told him we need to turn back. He thought for a moment and asked "Have we reached the end of India". I took a while to understand it and said "No, Daivik, this is only one street". "Are there other streets in India", he asked. "Yes, Daivik, There are many such streets in India". He took a moment to accept this and with a curiosity peppered with innocence, asked "well, what else does India contain".

Hmm, what else does India contain ? Where do we start ? On the other hand, perhaps, we can explore it together !

Monday, January 21, 2013

snow, snow, snow

Daivik and me were trudging our way to the kindergarten on a cold, damp, gray January morning. All around us was enveloped in a white desolateness. To cheer up things, Daivik asked if he can sing a song. Please, I said. He then sang, in English :

Snow, snow, snow
Go where you came from
I don't like
Because it's so cold

I pointed out the fun he usually has with the snow in his kindergarten, he immediately changed the lyrics.

Snow, snow, snow
Come in the kita
Snow, snow, snow
Don't come in the road

I asked him, how can it snow only on the kita and not in the main road, usually it cannot be so localized. He changed the song again.

BIG BIG snow 
come in the kita
small small snow 
come in the main road
(emphasis his).

I couldn't say anything more.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

your money

I found a one euro coin on the grass and pocketed it. Somehow I did not spend it but left it on my desk at work and forgot about it. One day I was toying with it as a kind of mini distraction and ended up resting it  on its sides. In a few minutes I noticed that it had fallen down and was flat again. I had not realized how or when it had fallen down. Over the next several weeks it became a sort of test, I will put the coin on its side and try to be attentive about when it falls down. Finally, I managed to let the coin rest on its sides without toppling it. I left it like that on my table.

Daivik came one day to meet me at work and saw the strange positioning of the coin and promptly toppled it before asking if he can take it. I said no. With a conviction that baffles logic he said, "but your money is my money"(!) and took the coin. I tried a feeble protest but it was too late. He started playing around with it, alternating it between his fingers, coat and pant pockets. On our way back home, he lost it somewhere.

Well, as they say, what goes round comes around.