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. 

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. 

a little daughter turns one !

Imagine reading an action packed fast paced thoroughly enjoyable page turner, with the twist that the pages cannot be turned at will. It is set to a 24 hour timer. We cannot do anything about it. We cannot go back to a specific page to re-read a particularly pleasing phrase, nor can we sneak up few pages ahead to break a mini-suspense. The book has to be appreciated at its pace, which in a way adds up to its appeal. Now, as this book completes one glorious chapter, impressions from random pages breeze across the memory lanes, in no particular sequence.

***
You are supposed to cry, to gasp in the first burst of oxygen. but your lips are zipped, your eyes are shut tight, your face is squirmed, all reflecting the tremendous journey you have just been through. The doctor has just - this very minute - taken you out of your cozy residence of the past months and brought you out into the world, into the chirping dawn outside. but your remain silent. He wraps you in a towel, takes you to a warmed up table, lays you down gently as i follow him helplessly. He gives a gentle practiced rub on your chest. The fluids in your tiny lungs gush out and there is now space for air. Aha, the oxygen rushes in as you let us hear your voice. No, it is not a piercing splitting cry, nor is it a whimper, somewhere in between..that cry ensures the lungs get their supply and your systems makes the magic switch to your first independence. The doctor smiles, looks at me and says, congratulations.

***
Your have two angles to watch the world. In the most common, most boring one,  you are lying on your bed and looking at the ceiling. Everybody is looking at you from such a great height, everything looks upside down, sort of one dimensional. There is no depth perception. And there is always that roof. Unchanging. Every once in a while, different faces get into the frame, make different sounds, and leave. Then there is that other view, when somebody holds you vertically. You get a better angle of vision, you can see things for what they are, at their right proportions and when they carry you around, at the right pace and distances. This view is definitely better than the other one ! Why then do they leave me down, to that boring ceiling. Today, for the first time, you decide to make this point clear. When they put you down, you protest...you open your mouth and let out a wail. Here they come running, they pick you up. You get back you preferred view. Wow, what a discovery ! You reward them with a smile.

***
They say canyons - as in the Grand Canyon - are formed not by the sheerness of force but by their persistence. This is something we need to learn from babies. The first time I noticed this was when you were trying to turn over by yourself. It was not a sudden thing but a very gradual result of weeks of effort where you were doing nothing else but that. Day in and day out, all your waking hours, you were trying to turn over. First on one side, you lift your one shoulder up as much as you can turn your whole body and try to turn over as much as you can, then you fall back, then you try again, and again, and again. The same process happened when you learnt to sit by yourself. And now when you are trying to take that first free step, it is the same intensity, same persistence...

***
You are playing by yourself and probably getting bored. You look around for some new toy and spot your sleeping brother. Your mind is made, the target is set. You move to him in a  focused crawl. You get over him and let your fingers play over and make little sounds. He does not move. You find his hairs. Hmmm, this looks interesting. You grab it in your little palms, exert a surprising force and pull it towards you. This definitely is funny ! You let out a laugh. Your big brother sits up with a start, rubs his eyes and starts to cry.

***
For a very long time, your singular readout for exploration of your environment is to grab the objects and put them in your mouth. One fine day, as you stand holding a little table you spot something interesting, grab it and  promptly bring it near the mouth. But then you stop and look around with those big brightly lit eyes until you spot me. Then you hold aloft the thing as if showing me and move it slowly to your mouth. I say slowly "no".  Very deliberately you keep it back and look at me with eyes drooling innocence, as if asking "i kept it back. is it okay now?"