Mama barir moja **

We were visiting Bangalore where my brother stays. For Arno, it was heaven..lot of rules were allowed to be broken and the grandparents made most of the decisions rather than the "strict" mom. The best part was ...."you ask for something and you get it". I was offcourse struggling with my inner self trying to appear "cool", feel "chill", react "normal" and sound like a "good mother". Several instances, the urge to box the ears was so strong...............anyway....coming back to the point ;
One of the days when Arno had gradually built up his confidence level to a point where he thought that he can basically get anything and everything , he asked my brother if he can PLAY with the "Chairmans trophy --best employee award" . It is a wonderful glass trophy kept with other such awards in a nice glass cabinet. For Arno , it was very simliar to the "Piston Cup" from the movie Cars ,hence the urge to PLAY!!!!
I said NO. Fullstop.
NO WAY!
He asked again.......NO.....again.....NO.....then I thought it might be wise to try to EXPLAIN PROPERLY (most of the time a proper explanation works much better than a blunt NO).
So I started to "explain" to him how important the trophy was to my brother.
I said (temper totally under control), "Arno, these are not piston cups from movies, these are REAL rewards which my brother got...these are trophies that people get for good work after they are 30".
He said, "Mama, you are WAY MORE THAT 30, how come you dont have these??"
........... A minute of silence.................................

ps: O God Almighty, please give me the wisdom to stop a sentence at the right moment. [Why , why , why did I not stop my last sentence after "good work" ? ]

**(english translation : fun at maternal uncles place)"

Signed "with love"

I am a piece of paper
Light pink with a tiny rose at the corner,
Waiting to be written on.

The wait is long now, it was different before.
These days, I know I am not needed any more..................

Before,
When she picked me gently up,
Her excited heart beat I could hear,
As she sat with a pen in her hand,
Excitement and anticipation, hard to bear
I could see her flushed face,
Trying to weave her thoughts in line,
A slight tremble of hand as the pen touched me ,
Flowing emotions, the pleasure was all mine.
The occasional breaks, as the pen paused,
Fond memories made her smile,
The hug, the kiss, the endearments,
I could share the intimacies, all the while.
A drop of tear, a smudge on the ink,
As she wrote "yours and yours only"
Blurred vision with more drops to come,
If only I could hug her tight, she was sad and lonely.
It was signed "with love", and then a small hesitation before she let me go,
Sealed with a kiss one last time, I was carrying her heart, you know.

Today,
There is a keyboard and you just have to "type"
Life has options, you can "chat" or you can "skype".
"Friends" are "added" with a "request" all the while;
"Smileys" are "entered" to show that you smile,
The "mouse" these days is stronger than the pen;

I lay unhappy in the dark store room waiting,
Till someone picks up the pen again...................



Good Old Days....

Days of pure fun, days of innocent existence,
The period of time is frozen in my mind.

A time of life when life is so beautiful,
Struggling as mad, yet each moment a pleasure;
Silly pranks, stupid jokes, meaningless banter,
Forever to treasure!

Each day a new day to live,
No tomorrow to care for,
The Profs face is the only source of stress,
Some tests, a few classes, low decibel giggles,
Paper rockets flying behind his back,
A sort of “cool” carelessness!!

Each friend – a lifetime friend,
Hot gossip, funny emotions, infinite support,
A bond stronger than blood,
Promises independent of consequences,
Some kept, some broken,
All based on love, pure love unspoken.

Each moment a Kodak moment,
Some happily coloured, few fading grey,
Nicely album-ized, if there is such a verb.
There is no going back.
Turning the pages from time to time and letting my mind wander…………

Focus! Focus! Focus!

7:45 a.m

I firmly suspect that the hands of the clock move faster at this time of the day than they do the rest of the day. Otherwise why would I see 7:00 only a few minutes back ? I just don’t know..All I know is that I have to hurry …leave home by 8:05 in order not to be terribly late for school.

I put the milk in the microwave, the bread in the toaster , the cornflakes in the bowl and shout at the top of my voice ( maybe the 29^th time)….”Arno, where are you? Breakfast is served” . The past tense is used purposely otherwise the little master adds the time of the microwave to his “lazily-finishing-his playing-and-coming-down-the-stairs” routine! I Go back to kitchen, take the milk out, take the bread out……

The cornflakes are now indeed on the table, the son is nicely seated in front, the mother is busy instructing him on the speed with which he should finish the bowl. At the same time , with her back to the table she is also spreading butter on her toast (multitasking and all that!!). The little one fiddles with his spoon, fiddles with the dry cornflakes, fiddles with whatever is on the table. The eating process is extremely slow, not because of the hunger, but because of the lack of focus! That’s what the mother thinks!

The instructions start very nicely…” please Arno, eat quickly , we will be late for school”. Child begins to eat at a speed much much lower than the speed stated minutes before by the focused mother.

Gradually the tone goes an octave higher, words like ‘Please’ just drop off.

“Arno, Quick! We don’t have all the time in the world..EAT!”. Child continues eating but still at a very very slow speed.

I proceed to make myself a good cup of tea. That eats away my 3.5 mins. I turn around only to see the little one holding a cornflake in his hand , looking at the ceiling and even SMILING, mouth empty! One flickering moment of anger sparks..all this while did I not make myself clear? Clear about the speed ? clear about the need to focus on food? So I shout, “Arno! FOCUS! FOCUS FOCUS……..”

He looks down from the ceiling as if waking up from a bad dream (in this case that of a witch screaming at him) and looks at me patiently , smiles and says…” You know what Mama, yesterday when Tom was eating cornflakes, Jerry walked up behind him and………………..”

I had to smile.

Thank you God for creating small five year olds who don’t focus!! What an uninteresting world that would have been if EVERYONE focused……………

The launch of the son

Yes , now I know EXACTLY how Mithun da felt when Mimoh was launched!This comparison goes ONLY to the extent of how a parent feels when for the first time your little one walks on the stage, grabs the mike and starts to perform! The comparison ends here, please!

;-)

17th April, 2010. As the day dawned, I woke up with a sinking feeling in my stomach, its the day when A-junior is going to perform. Its a Bengali assosiation program to celebrate the New Years, Poyla Boishakh as we call it..

Sukumar Ray is a household name for any Bengali kid (do not know about the current generation, though). Atleast when we grew up , Sukumar Rays ABOL TABOL adorned the bookshelf of almost every bengali kid. This is a collection of poems, stories, articles, dramas etc which is EVERGREEN..the pleasure of reading it has absolutely no relation to the readers age! you enjoy it at 5, at 25 ,at 55 and so on....
I needed to give this introduction to make the reader understand why "Bhalo re bhalo" was chosen for A-junior to be launched.
It all started with grabbing the book ( which by the way was inherited by A junior from the senior), trying to explain what we are about to do, trying to judge by his reaction if at all this is feasible, trying to explain some more the meaning of the poem, getting him hooked on to it, memorizing it (first myselfand then junior), getting some actions planned and so on...This all fits in 3 lines dear friends, but the real task was tedious, long and at some points totally "give it up" situation.
Step 1:I made a copy of the poem and put it up on the refrigerator with A-s favourite magnet!
Step 2: Started reading the poem whenever we are in the kitchen
Step 3: Making the little one laugh and enjoy centain lines by explaining the meaning ..for eg: Tiki-o bhalo, taak -o bhalo..
Step 4:Ask him to say after me...in other words get it memorized.
Step 5:
Step 6:......
After innumberable such steps, the kid was ready.(almost). However, the night before the program he said NO! I WLL NOT SAY THIS....Can you imagine my face?
I bribed him, cajoled him, scolded him.........nothing worked. ..I gave up.
But then, BINGO, 5 mins before the program started he wanted to do it.......
My pulse starts racing, my heart skips a number of beats, am thinking about the lines on which he might be stuck..etc etc...
So up he goes on stage. After that nothing else mattered any more.....good or bad...I did not care...

The little one just performed, the crowd clapped, I really did not hear anything.....

It was a pleasure.

It was such a pleasure to see the "little" one grow up........

To watch your small kid up on the stage.....its a pleasure.

To see him enjoy doing it...its a pleasure.

To hear the applause..its a pleasure.

It was one of the most enjoyable moments of my life.

The "why-s" of life.

The "why" has started .....
Mama, WHY?
Never in my life was I so scared about the WHY thing.
The main reason is that the answer to most of the WHYS could be found.....somewhere...

For eg: WHY did Muhammad bin Tughlaq change his state capital from Delh to Daulatabad?
The question , though sounds difficult has the answer on page 187 of my history text book. See?

But the WHYS that I have to face now sometimes have no answer......

After spending 4 long weeks in India, A-junior is absolutely horrified by the fact that here at home his freedom level is soooooooo less compared to that in India. For a four-year-old, this transition from a world where whatever he did was all glory to the world where his mother is in full control can be so shocking!!

Anyway, last Sunday (he was still suffering from the why-do-I-have-to-do-stuff-and-not-be-free-as-in-India syndrome), he was getting ready for his swimming classes.

A-junior: Mama , WHY do I have to go for swimming?
mama (nice smile, soft tone): You see, swimming will make you strong..will give you lots of energy.....(bla..bla..bla)
A-junior: WHY do I need to learn to swim? [the WHY stays]
Mama (less smile, tone one pitch higher): You have to grow up, be a big man etc etc..
A-junior: But mama, I am growing up ANYWAY!!

For a few seconds I just did not have an answer.......................

The new models are smarter....

The other day, I was trying to clean the floor of my living room which like always was strewn with A-juniors toys. He was busy drawing.
Me: A, can you please clean up your toys?
No response.
Me[slightly higher tone]: A, Did you not hear? Please clean up your toys...
No response.
Me[trying to keep cool]: A, please put away your toys, and if you do it neatly enough I shall put on a NICE movie for you.
No response, slight tilt of head.
Me: A, I REALLY want you to put away your toys neatly. I will switch on a NICE movie for you...

Looks up, thinks something, says, "Mama, can you put on a BAD movie for me now?"

New models are definitely smarter....