questions

                                                   


I read Rekha 's post  Kids and the Difficult Questions they ask and my memory went into a rewind mode to a decade back, when my son was in K.G.

 When we see small kids playing in the park , we see innocence in their little eyes. But wait till they start with a barrage of innocent questions and you as a parent are at wit's end to give a proper and decent solution. The questions posed by them are funny , shocking, absurd  and of course intelligent that your brains could never have imagined. A parent should cultivate the delicate art of lying (Yes, you read it right) laced with the most innovative answers, with a straight face. Any flinching on your part and the umpire will raise its tiny finger to declare you out ,  and the parent will be scurrying to the pavilion.

Son ( to me) : mom , Did you buy chocolates for me?  

Me : The shop is closed. (lying). Shopkeeper Uncle is sick.
                                     Or
        All the chocolates are exhausted. Tomorrow morn I will get them as soon as the             shop re-opens.(tomorrow is another day and will cook up something else)    

                                                     
I had to search for answers to quench the insatiable thirst of a child that Google was/is incapable of throwing up. The answers blurted out to relieve my mind  are/were scanned and scrutinized under a magnifying glass and another uneasy query posed.

My hubby's cousin , from Bangalore, called up one fine morning to share the good news of the birth of his daughter.

Me : (to hubby) Your cousin (say P) has a baby girl. (translated from Kannada).

Son : P kaka (paternal uncle) is a boy. How can he have a baby?

Me : P kaka's wife has given birth to a baby girl. (correcting myself)

Son  : O.K. ( I was relieved, but he was ruminating)

Son : How does the doctor know whether the baby is a boy or a girl?

Me : How does it matter whether its a boy or a girl , a baby is a baby? 

        Countered questioned I , thinking it would be the end of              the embarrassing dialogue. But I was not so lucky to let off the guillotine.

Son : But we have to buy clothes for the baby. Should we buy a frock or a shirt?

Me :  Baby clothes are the same for a boy and a girl.

Before he could pull the trigger of his inquisitive mind , and shoot more questions, I reminded him that he was getting late for school. And he hurried. I breathed a sigh of relief.  Couldn't the arrival of the news of the baby girl be delayed till son had reached school? 

                                                     


A child's mind is like a magician's box, conjuring the most unexpected doubts to raise the parent's anxiety levels. With a wave of the magic wand, when a rabbit is expected to pop up, a dove will flutter out ,  leaving you totally confused. Answering and satisfying a child's query is like adding a  feather in one's cap. 

Patting your back after you have successfully managed to quench his doubts ,  you feel you have achieved a Himalayan task. And before you even start basking in your pride that you are staring at another question.

I had taught my son to offer prayers at our little pooja area which he diligently obeyed. One day he said that his teacher had told him that God is omnipresent , then why is it necessary to pray in the pooja area only?  I had/have no proper answer.

A child 's mind is deep and fathomless like a well . The water in the well is akin to  a large reservoir of doubts and the pulley of the child's mind working its way up and down the walls of the well. The parenting methods act as the bucket which hold the child's curiosity and when quenched , pour out the contents to make space for more , irrigating a child's fertile mind. The harvest reaped will be rich and nutritious and the child , its parents as well as the society will stand to benefits from the fruits of the labour.


                                               

missed calls

                                       

This time your entry must contain, ’38 missed calls in 10 mins! He/She wondered what was going on.’

Wiping the beads of perspiration trickling down her forehead with a cotton napkin placed strategically on the kitchen rack , Shruti continued to move her hand clutching the red lascivious carrot, moving  up and down on the stainless steel grater in perfect rhythmic motion.

                                            

 She glanced at the clock. It was twenty minutes since Abhay had left home. She still had to grate the remaining half kilo. It would take another ten minutes. She had to prepare the ''gajar ka halwa'  by noon for her kitty party. She found it therapeutic to cook and listen to the strains of music in the background. Music is food for soul.Whoever said that music was costly cacophony  was an inartistic person , concluded Shruti.

She set the 'Karhai' ( Indian wok) on the gas burner . She picked up the cordless phone and dialled Abhay's number while from her peripheral vision she managed to oversee the grated carrot being cooked in milk. There was no response from the other side. He must still be driving his two-wheeler, thought Shruti but he should have reached office by now , a worried wife 's woes. 

Aishwarya sauntered in , the aroma permeating their spacious apartment. 'Aish , go and play . Do not disturb me' , scolded Shruti.

The  dessert was almost done and a filament of pure ghee covered the red layer. I will be the envy of the kitty party , thought Shruti , satisfied with her culinary skills.


                                                                                           
Her concentration was disturbed by the incessant ringing tone of 'O ! re piya.........'.

She rushed to the bedroom where her Samsung Galaxy S4 lay snug on the pillow.
She picked it up and her pupils dilated ,' 38 missed calls in 10 min! She wondered what was going on' . She answered  with a barely audible 'hello' , her voice quivering.

'What happened , Abhay?'

'I should ask this question to you , Shruti. '38 missed calls in 10 min! He wondered what was going on' 

'But , I called you only once , Abhay'

'Shruti , you called me 38 times from our landline' , Abhay's voice pitching high.

Shruti ran to the living room. She sat down on the sofa , the soft foam sinking down under her body weight and the confusion slowly sank into her brain.

She had dialled Abhay on his cell-phone. As he was driving his two-wheeler , he didn't answer the call. Aish entered the kitchen and picked the cordless , unnoticed by Shruti and  pressed the 'redial' button 37 times. Abhay on reaching the reception lobby , of his office ,  saw the number of missed calls. He panicked and tried calling the landline but Aish kept the buttons busy. He dialled Shruti's cell-phone but the cell-phone being in the bedroom combined with music and Shruti's gastronomical concentration ,the accumulation of missed calls on her cell-phone was but natural.

Shruti patiently explained the chain of events  to Abhay. Both of them had a hearty laugh  at the morning drama.

Shruti picked up Aish and kissed the 24 month old bundle of joy who  had created panic and confusion a little while ago and was blissfully unaware of the happenings.

                                             

Suddenly , she remembered the 'Gajar ka halwa' . 'Oh ! my God ' , and ran to the kitchen fearing the worst.

Today , her kitty party will be a success. Shruti had put off the gas stove. 


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


P.S. : My son was two years old and we were watching  a reality programme on television and my son sitting by our side handed the cordless to me. There was a man at the other end of the phone , worried and confused at the number of calls made to his phone. I apologized to him explaining to him that it is my 2 year old son fiddling with the phone. My son had dialed a random number and kept on pressing the alternate buttons of redial , talk and end. I realized that the phone could be a dangerous tool in the hands of a child and parents have to be very attentive to a child's movements.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

We give out creative writing prompts each weekend for Indian bloggers.

list of WOW winners.

School of thought(s)

                                                 

                                           

The stone on which she was resting  was cool and her dangling legs lay immersed in the pond. The aqua-blue serene waters of the pond was disturbed by the gentle ripples caused by the frolicking of the orange , white and silvery colored aquatic species .
The fishes are lucky to have good friends, thought Anjali , as salty tears flowed down her cheeks  till they reached the end of her jawline to fall abruptly on her lap. Her school uniform pinafore was moist pool due to the collection shed by her two little brown eyes.

Her classmates had tugged her pigtails and teased her and her teacher blamed her for not gelling with her group.

 'That's so unfair', she thought. How she hated school! Wish she could sprout fins and dive in with the fishes and play gleefully among them and with them.

 Anjali stared at the shallow waters. Suddenly , the big white fish kissed her big toe and  said , 
                      "That's not fair , O fair maiden!
                       with sorrow filled heart laden
                       Weep not, thy salty tears
                       pollutes the pond , sears.                   
                       Go back, to your school,
                       swim not against the pool.  
                       Learn , play , laugh 
                       shared joys double, sorrows half.
                       Enjoy, for life's a minute long.
                       Smile, whistle and hum a song."

And the fish kissed her big toe again and amalgamated with its school. Anjali was brought back from her reverie and she rubbed her eyes. Was it an illusion or a fantasy? She questioned herself. Whatever it was , she had learnt her lesson. She turned and looked back. She could hear the laughter emanating from the school playground. Slowly she got up and wiped her tears. The close encounter with the aquatic kind had to be under wraps but had left an indelible impression on her tender mind. She had to go back to her school.

This prompt is written for FRIDAY FICTIONEERS PHOTO PROMPT-NOV 1 where the post had to be inspired by the picture below.

                                                     
                                                        Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy



P.S. : - School life is an integral part of childhood but some children find it difficult to settle down to school life and resent school  that they find every reason to evade going to the temple of learning. Parents and teachers, alike , have to be catalysts in this process. Here the fish in a school takes her on the right path.

Q's and A's

Questions for which I don't really have answers.. Can you answer?

I have tried to find some answers to questions posed by Nischala Murthy. Have a look.


PARENTING

* How  women (who is largely consider the 'weaker sex') find the physical / mental and emotional strength to endure child-birth?

A women is a storehouse of latent energy. She is wrongly judged as the 'weaker sex'.
Childbirth is considered to be a second birth for the lady but she endures it all , for she releases a part of her, after nine months of nurturing in her womb.

                                             
* How mothers can be *UNCONDITIONALLY SELFLESS* and *UNIMAGINABLY SELFISH* for their children? It makes you wonder if it is the same person at all?

A mother's love is unconditional and selfless. How can a mother discriminate and  be selfish to a product of her own creation?.




* Why do children take on the father's surname, and not the mothers name; when really how most children turn out is HUGELY DEPENDENT on their MOTHER?


Children are largely dependent on their mothers. Blame the patriarchal societal norms that the child belongs to the father. In matriarchal society (of Nair and Bunt communities) the child takes the mother's 'gotra'.
Laws are changing. A child can now take the mother's name. Bollywood director, Sanjay Leela Bhansali has taken his mom's name as his middle name. A long way to go to change and accept mindsets.



* What goes on in the mind and heart of a new born baby? What does he / she think? What does he / she feel?

My mom and grandmom have told me that the first 3 months of the child belong to its previous birth  (I really do not know how) .  When the infant smiles , the fairies play with them. 


* "For Better or For Worse" - How do parents get the strength to endure every thing that a child puts you through?

The children are the 'shaan' and  'guroor' of the parents.  Parents , specially a mother, endures everything that a child puts through as they know that these are the testing times and are always hopeful of the best. This flicker of hope warms their heart even in the biting cold of adversities and hence they endure for their kids.


Readers , do you have any different answers? Please feel free to share and many brains on parenting make the broth more tasty.

Happiness

My teen's English teacher asked the class to write a few lines of the topic : We are the architect of our own happiness.

Some of the lines which he wrote and I reproduce :  a person is responsible for his own deeds and actions which in the long run decide the person's own destiny.

 A restless mind is like a rocking chair : it keeps a person busy but will not lead him/her anywhere. His teacher liked and praised him for the apt comparison . He was adjudged as second best.
                                                           

His classmate compared people with different mentalities and outlook to an egg , a carrot and coffee beans .

                                                    



 All the three are put into different bowls containing boiling water. She compared the boiling water to adversities of life. When faced with unseen calamities,  people react in different ways and manner. The carrot turned pulpy  indicating some people crumble and fade away. The outer shell of the egg remained firm while the yolk gets cooked well indicating that some people adorn themselves with fake tough masks to conceal their internal shimmering feelings. The coffee beans do not change their physical shape but release an aroma making us inhale the pleasant fragrance , tickling our sensory organs indicating that some people stand the test of time and spread positive vibes around. The residue, the coffee concoction  is potable and is an energizer. The teacher singled out her writing as the best and I do agree.

                                               
                                             
My teen praised his classmate and I as a parent , puff with pride for his trait to recognise and accept the good in others which is shrinking alarmingly to become extinct.

I was amazed at the  veracity and out of box thinking capacity of the young minds to compare and conflict the unthinkable.

In hindsight , my grey cells began to wrestle in the arena of the heart , can we really be the architect of our happiness?

The ability to understand , grasp , accept and then change for the better is entirely in our hands. We can fine tune ourselves to leave our negatives thoughts outside the fence before walking into the sacred temple of our mind. A sound mind and sound body co-exist paving a path to happiness and/or contentment.

But the external forces of greed , lust , jealousy , bad influence, vices threaten to break the barrier of fence to gate-crash and defile the sacred precincts of or mind. Can anyone person face and stand tall like the rock of Gibraltar, the contaminated onslaught without succumbing to the monsters? 

I conclude that it is the combination of the external and internal forces that have to be balanced to attaining happiness and contentment.

                 


Readers , may I know your views?

sounds

WOW – Sound Expressions!

“Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.” ― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

This weekend your post must contain at least five sound words!

For e.g. splash, crash, vroom, poof, etc.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                                  

"What is a sound?" I asked Ananya. She looked at me innocently , blinked her eyes and curled the lower lip out  and shrugged her shoulders.

Taking the hint , said I, "Vibrations that travel through the air and can be heard when they reach the other person's ear."

"Did you understand , Ananya?"

Ananya looked bored and found the lesson on sound uninteresting. Tomorrow Micheal teacher would teach the class about sounds and I wanted her to be well prepared and 'earn' a golden star in the notebook. Ananya snatched the pictorial book on 'SO MANY SOUNDS' and tossed it on the sofa.

                                                         

"SSshhhhhhhhh" said Ananya making a slight whistling sound. My eyes brightened up.

"ssshhhhhhhhhh, Ma, (lowering her voice) listen to the tick-tock-tick-tock

of the grandpa's clock."

                                       

"Ananya, listen to the pitter-patter of the raindrops." Two heads popped out of the window to hear the sound of the falling rain from the window roof.

                                           

Our outstretched hands made an effort to collect the rain-water in the cupped palms. Ananya rubbed her wet hands to her cheeks and giggled.

Just then a small green frog hopped , 'croak croak croak' into  a puddle.

                                                   

"Ma , look papa's come. His bike is coming  vrrrrroooommmmm and splash into the puddle."

A passer-by had muddy water splashed on his pants akin to freehand drawing pattern and the frog made a jump and landed at his feet.

He yelled , 'ahoy'. I was a bit worried. But Ananya 's biker papa had already steered it safely into the building garage.

The next moment we heard ,'tring trrrring' and Ananya ran to open the door, with me trailing behind her.

                                          

Ananya leapt into her papa's arms and his cell-phone rang ,' tip-tip barsa paani' , the new-caller tune set by Ananya.

                                             

 And the room echoed with the sound of laughter. The book, SO MANY SOUNDS' lay on the sofa its pages making a fluttering sound.

                                               

P.S. :- the bookish knowledge imparted to little children does not appeal to their curious and enthusiastic brain. Hearing and experiencing actual sounds made little Ananya enjoy the learning process. Did you enjoy , readers, with Ananya?

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda