Backseat Conversations

A: "Mom I have a request for when I turn 18."

Me: "Yeah?"

A: "I want to sign a paper that will donate my organs to someone if I die in an accident or something."

Most times I don't know where these thoughts come from. But these are just a few of those moments when he leaves me stumped and speechless. 

The Change Agent in my Family

"I know why people throw their girls on the streets."

"Why?"

"Its because when they have to get married, their parents have to spend a lot of money on them because the man or the groom asks them for very expensive gifts that the family cannot afford. That is why people throw their girls because they think that they will be useless and only money will be spent on their marriage."

"How can you change it?"

"By not asking for anything when I get married. Its good to buy things by yourselves when you're an adult because you feel more responsible that you can do things by yourself."

Last week we visited a NGO that supports underprivileged children and their mothers and A noticed that there were no boys, only girls there.

When I told him that it is because girls need more help, we had the conversation quoted verbatim above.

Proud mommy today!

Lucky man Hugh Jackman!

I wasn't very keen on watching the X-Men movie that was released a few months ago, I recall. I had asked the children to go with their friends and save me the bother of sitting through a couple of hours of watching a movie full of blood and gore (or so I thought).

The children, insistent on showing me the 'glory' of the X-Men, begged and eventually I relented.

As I type this I am so glad that I did.

And not just because I enjoyed the movie. 

It was during the scene where Magneto drives metal rods into Wolverine that the son and I heard sobbing sounds emanating from our left. Through the darkness of the cinema and the rather cumbersome 3D glasses, we saw that it was my daughter, his older sister who was crying as she watched Hugh Jackman cringe in pain and die (of course, not for ever, but for the moment.)

As we stepped out of the cinema, son discussed the movie excitedly (as is the norm - we just HAVE to discuss the details of the films we watch), she started tearing up again. 

I looked at her and said, "C'mon, its just a movie, baby!"

She nodded and wiped her tears, hiding her face away from other passers by.

We descended the three flights of stairs and got into the car and the son I realised by now, had understood that his sister was getting emotional at the mention of the particular scene began thus, "Mom, the scene where Magneto tries to kill Wolverine..."

Before he could complete, she was crying again.

I saw her from the rear view (I was driving and the children were seated behind), I shushed her and almost chided her. "Its just a movie!"

"But I love him!" she said, exasperated, while her rather emboldened brother laughed and started again... "Mom, that scene..."

Sighing I started the car as one continued to sob and the other, giggle.

We were headed to a restaurant for dinner and hours later, we thought the "pain" of watching her idol die (but not really die) would have abated. We were clearly mistaken when we saw tears rolling down her face as son excitedly explained the plot to someone who had joined us for the meal.

Oh Hugh Jackman, dear man... Do you have any clue that there's a fan here in faraway India who can't even bear to see you die even though you emerge alive three scenes later? 

You're one lucky man if my daughter's shedding her precious tears on you! One lucky man!!!!

Backseat Conversation July 2014

Sometimes I think that the son is quick witted. At other times, well, he's just honest.

Daughter: "Mama, you know our neighbour is pregnant and A thought that she's become fat."

A: "Of course mama! You don't know but she eats a lot."

O H K A Y!

Who knows you best? Your child, of course!

Son's new friend comes home for the first time and is surprised that our pet Beagle is quite docile.

"Your dog doesn't bark?" he asks.

"Not really," comes the prompt reply.

"I have a ferocious dog at home," reveals the friend.

"Wow, really? What breed is it?"

"Its called a German Shepherd."

"Oh okay... Any way, he can't come to my home, or else he will have to deal with my mother."

Both nod in agreement.

Just another day...

Son: "I am opening this pack of cereal.."

Me: "Okay. Just put a stopper on the remaining (that cannot fit into the jar) and put it in the cupboard"

Son: "I assign that task to you Mom…"

O K A Y…

Backseat Coversation

We are driving to the sport's day in son's school. We have picked up two friends M and T. Both girls and the lad are seated behind while I drive.

Conversation 1:

Son: "Mom Im feeling very unsafe sitting between two girls."
M: "Why are you feeling unsafe? T is almost your cousin. She won't do anything to you!"
T: "Yeaaaahhh!"

Conversation 2 - as we reach the venue and slow down to park, son sees the girl of his dreams. T sees her too.

T: "Look A! There is her!!"
A: "Yeah, I can see her!"
M: "Thats so gross!"

Just another day in the lives of 10 year olds! Just another moment a mother ought to remember for the rest of her life!

'Best Man' dilemma

The other day, son asked: "Mum, do we have the practise of having a Best Man in Indian weddings, like the Americans?"

"If you mean Hindu weddings, we don't. But even in India, Christians do" I said focussing on the traffic of our chaotic city.

"Oh thank God we don't have a Best Man!" he said, as I saw him relax in to the back seat of the car.

"Why?" I was now really curious!

"Because I won't know which of my friends to choose from as my Best Man. I have four best friends you know" he said matter-of-factly telling me the names of his four best friends in order of preference.

Then he quickly added, "Otherwise I would have to marry four times to give them (all) a chance..." chuckling to himself.

What a harrowing dilemma for a ten year old!!!

Farewells

Intermittent giggles. A screech here and there. Gossip - who is 'hooked' with whom; boy friend chatter; who likes whom and who can't stand who. Laughter - full throated, loud and effervescent. Music, Dance, Karaoke. Food. Ice cream. Fun. Happiness.

When a bunch of the daughter's classmates threw her a farewell party (she's moving to another school), along with the sentimental video and the cards they'd made for her, they also spent a major part of the day having unadulterated FUN, the way all young, on-the-threshhold-of-teens should.

They clung together and shed tears, sang songs of friendships, dedications to their classmate of five years who is moving on, reminisced about the just-concluded exams and the idiosyncrasies of teachers...

I watched them my heart filled with an indescribable emotion. Perhaps I was recalling my own school days. Perhaps my friends. Perhaps lamenting the loss of rock solid friends in my here and now. Perhaps rejoicing in the knowledge of friends I know will remain mine forever. Perhaps hoping that my daughter forges such beautiful friendships where she goes next. Perhaps sad that she will be closing this chapter in her life. Perhaps sad also with the knowledge that she'll probably never meet the same bunch of girls again.

Life has a way of helping you cope. We all have a recovery process that kicks into action the minute we are faced with a situation. I know hers kicked in as soon as we closed the door bidding the last of her girlfriends good bye. "Now I am happy mom..." simply meant that she is now ready to move on, having officially bid goodbye to the bunch she'd known since she was 7.

I need to learn to let mine kick in too. Its high time.

Tackling tantrum throwing

Different couples have different reasons for having children. Ours was a bit complicated and some day I will note it down (makes for insightful reading).

Bottom line is we not just had one child, but two. Now there is a very good reason for that too. Read about it here...

However, as any parent in this world will tell you, while parenting has its obvious joys, parenting two kids also has its challenges. Handling both of them, the sibling rivalry and trying to be 'reasonable' and 'fair' to both (even in the midst of a terrible fight), has never been easy. But I have found a via media, a veritable middle path that I use in tackling some of the 'sensitive' issues between them, and I am sharing four of those 'tactics' here. 

When my children hear me mouth the following words they think I am insensitive and impolite. To me, this is the only way to avoid losing my temper, shouting at them and in the bargain, feeling miserable. 

Here's a list of what generally gets my goat and how I deal with it:

1. Crying - Really loud. Most likely in a public place. Or in the midst of a guest/relative/friend. For a vague reason that could range from "You always buy her/him everything and me nothing" or "I REALLY want to play now and you are saying 'study'"....

I shush them quiet and say "I don't want to 'hear' a sound. Cry in your mind."

First few years they'd actually become quiet and calm down and figure out 'how' to cry in their mind. Sometimes I would go a step further and tell them "I don't mind if you cry. I don't want to hear it. Thats all."

Then came a phase when they would irritatingly ask me, "How can I cry in my mind?" 

Now at 12 and 8, they just quieten down. Guess they've also learned that I am deaf as long as they screech and I am also beyond embarrassment with their tantrum throwing.

It works!

2. Fight - They are siblings so they fight. A lot. 

Sometimes I am at my wits' end and then I remember how my mother used to tackle us. She would find it hard to ignore us, if we (like my own tots do) kept tugging at her clothes, chin, hands whatever to grab her attention and get her to "accept" that she would shout at the brother/sister who was hassling us... But finally she would give in and say:

"I will shout at him/her when I find them alone next."

If we protested, she would say in her sweetest voice, "It doesn't look nice to shout at him/her in front of so many people. So I will do it when I find him/her alone."

What it does is calms the situation down for that moment. Kids being kids soon forget the reason why they were squabbling or fighting and the issue is laid to rest without actually screaming/shouting/threatening the child, and thus avoiding another confrontation ("You don't love me..."....)

I use the same tactic. And this one works too.

Of course when the children realise that this is just a way of postponing the crisis or brushing it under the carpet, they DO get mad and shout, "But you never do it!" or "I KNOW you won't shout at him/her..."

But, in my experience, it is a better way of dealing with intense sibling rivalry or tattle telling...

3. Love - When their fights go beyond the usual "I hate you" I stop and remind them how much their sibling loves them. "But she/he loves you so much..." This sentence almost always gets to them to stop mid-way and listen to you through the crying and tears. 

The older one does sometimes say "No he doesn't..." to which I always promptly say "He does. If you stop fighting you'll see the love"...

This works too :-)

4. Hugs - What child hasn't questioned your love for them? As a parent, don't we often hear, "You love her more than me..." or "You love him so much you agree to everything he says"...

I often tackle this by hugging them real tight and telling them that I love them as much as I do their brother/sister... After the initial resistance, that lasts a minute perhaps, I feel their bodies slacken and give in to the hug. Then they hug me back. 

A hug can heal any thing. Believe me... This one works like magic!

Images courtsey: Google Images

Learning

My two precious babies; one 5 feet tall and the other a little over 4 feet, lie in bed, breathing softly, getting ready to frolic among singers like Selena Gomez/Justin Beiber or Iron Man in dream land. I lie beside them in the dark room, still dressed in my work clothes, hoping they fall asleep soon because I need to hit the sack too. When I hear the soft snores and feel that the twitching of limbs has stopped, I know they've slept.

I hug them. Tight. Like my life depends on it. I hug them again and kiss them - and hold them, wanting to hold on to the moment forever. The silence makes me feel 'relaxed' and at ease.

And then I remember.

I remember how the day had begun. Shouting at the daughter for having woken up late, not set her bag for school, unpolished shoes et al....followed by another screaming/threatening session aimed at a pair of sleepy eyes that wouldn't open until too late, and limbs that flayed about as I tried in vain to get them out from under the cosy comfort of the quilt.

Two hours of battle. A short breather...before I resume another battle of another kind.

The day progresses and as the evening draws near, the two brats return to my hearth and the clamour for my time and attention begins.

I put a meal on the table, reprimanding one to put down her book while eating and reminding the other to chew his food, get some home work done and keep an eye on the clock - all the time.

Then I hurry them to bed and lie (almost impatiently) waiting for sleep to knock on their doors, and then hug them trying to make up for the lost time and a lot more.....

The cycle continues. One day after another. We awake, we quarrel, we part, we meet, we argue/quarrel, we sleep...and ....

Sometimes, when I lie in bed, tired in mind and body, I think of what life has become - a quagmire of routine - of things to do, that have to be done at a particular time. All the waking moments are spent glancing anxiously at the clock - ticking away at its pace - making no concessions for over worked, sleep deprived mothers or attention starved, distracted children.

Spontaneity is sacrificed - sometimes for academic achievements and sometimes for achieving academics; to wake up on time, sleep on time, eat on time, play on time... Sometimes the hugs - before going to school, at bed time - also seem orchestrated to fit into the scheme of things. Sometimes, a conversation, a joke, a story become tedious and never ending and sometimes, when the house is quiet, the jokes, the extended drama in stories longed for...

When I have successfully turned life into a series of tasks that have to be achieved with clockwork precision, how will I ever teach my children the value of 'living' in the moment? Of being spontaneous and carefree? Of unadulterated happiness that all of us deserve?

Its past 1am now and I still lie awake wondering if I will be able to unlearn the learning I am rendering to my precious little children; one who is 5 feet tall and the other, a liitle over 4 feet.....

Face Mask

Glad to know that the son will probably not gawk at beauty regimens women follow after I overheard this conversation last weekend.

Friends of the son drop in on a Sunday at about 2 pm.

I open the door and they look funnily at me. Then I realise why. I have a face mask on.

Anyway, I let them in. They start playing cricket in my living room (much to my alarm) and to avoid the mask from cracking my skin, I squeak, "Please boys. No cricket indoors. Go down and play."

This it seems makes them notice the "mask" again.

Next thing I hear son updating his mis-informed and unaware buddies in his matter-of-fact tone, "Hey, its not yuck thing ya. Its called a face mask. My mother applies it all the time."

My reaction: I laughed and the almost-dry face mask cracked and started to crumble...

Song of birds

These days, I wake up to the sweet song of a cuckoo bird.... Some days the notes of its song are sweet and melodious and some days, relentlessly sharp and strained. Yet, I enjoy it tremendously because the song of a bird is an alien auditory treat for me.

Even as a child, I don't ever remember paying attention to the song of birds. Perhaps because I grew up in a land that is famous for one type of bird alone...the crow.... Everywhere you go in Kerala, you will hear them "caw".

As a child, I distinctly remember a crow snatching a sandwich from my hands as I stood munching in the balcony. The feel of its claws on my fingers is a sensation I remember to this day. I guess thats where my fear for birds started. I also remember my mom lamenting the assaults wreaked by crows on her drying mango slices (for that mmmmm pickle).

I am reminded of an incident from school, when I was in class VIII or IX; an incident that makes me smile to this day!

One afternoon I returned from my lunch break to find my wallet missing from my desk. Yep, at that age, I was very careless with my belongings and often misplaced my things in school. (I hope my daughter who recently joined FB is NOT reading this!)

My wallet contained the pocket money for the week. I was panic stricken and upon my friends' suggestion, decided to seek permission from the English teacher due to take her class during that period, to launch a search for my missing wallet.

The English teacher, Ms Dolores was not the most popular in the school. She was infamous for her temper and tantrums and the inconsiderate manner in which she dealt with the students.

As soon as I began the story of my missing wallet, Ms Dolores gave me that omnipresent irritated look.

"What's happened?"
"Miss, I have lost my wallet. I want to look for it. Can you excuse me from the class please?"
"Wallet? Who took your wallet?"
"I don't know Miss."
"Why don't you know?" (I could almost hear the grrrrrrrrr in her mind!)

Addressing the class, she asked, "Does anyone here know who took her wallet?"

One hand went up. In all seriousness, Satya, who always strived to live up to her name 'truth', stood up and said,"I know Miss. I saw a crow taking her wallet."

"A crow?"
"Yes Miss. A crow."
"Which crow?"

At this point, the entire classroom broke into laughter. Next thing I remember hearing voices from here n' there shouting,
"A black crow Miss."
"A crow with feathers."
"Martin Crowe."

Needless to say, Ms Dolores quickly gave me permission to look for my wallet within the school premises. Not before she made the naughty girls stand outside the class for the rest of the period!!!!!

(June 2007)

Origin of Species - Darwin...watch out!!!!

Unwittingly, my four year old son has been getting lessons about the ‘ORIGIN of Species’.

Conversation 1, verbatim, about 6 months ago:

Dad: “Oorja, do you remember when Abhir was born in the hospital? You were the first one to hold him.”

Oorja: “Yes. He was in Mama’s tummy, right?”

Abhir: (In wonder) “I was inside Mama’s tummy?”

Conversation 2, verbatim, about 3 months ago:

Oorja: “Abhir, you were not there for my 2nd Birthday party. You were in mama’s tummy.”

Abhir: (Shocked) “I WAS IN MAMA’S TUMMY?????”

Oorja: (Matter-of-fact)”Yes.”

Abhir: “How did I come out?”

Oorja: “Hmmm… I think the doctor cut open mama’s tummy. Hai na, maa?”

Abhir: (Surprised. STUNNED.)

Conversation 3, verbatim, a few weeks ago:

Abhir: “How did I come in to your tummy, Mama?”

Mama: “God put you there.”

Abhir: “Okay. Was I a big baby or was I a small baby inside your tummy?”

Mama: “You were a small baby and you grew.”

Abhir: “But, HOW did I come in to your tummy, Mama?”

Mama: “One day I thought I wanted to have a darling little baby boy named Abhir. So I prayed to God and asked him to put ABHIR inside my tummy.”

Abhir: (Eyes popping out of his sockets) “Really? You asked God to put Abhir inside your tummy?”

Mama: “Yes darling. I did.”

Abhir: “And God gave you?”

Mama: “Yes. He did.”

Abhir: “Was it Krishna?” (the God you prayed to…?)

Mama: (Immensely relieved that the topic was changing) “Yes.”

Our daughter went through the motions after we conceived him; watching my tummy grow in size, feeling his kicks, and finally seeing HIM on an ultrasound before he was born. Somehow, we did not have to EXPLAIN it.

Even though the birds and bees conversation is a few years away, explaining to my son how he came in to our lives was serious stuff.

I only hope that we handled it well.

Kids say the darnest things! 2

S chatting with our son A:

S: "My grandfather died."

A: "My father's father, thatha got heart attack and went to hospital but didn't die."

They continue playing....

Aware at 11

From shampoo....

Mom (after having given her an anti-dandruff shampoo): "Did you wash your hair with H & S?"

Daughter: "Yes!"

Mom: "So...Is there a difference?"

Daughter: "Mom! If shampoos worked in one wash, these companies would be selling only 1 Re sachets, not big big bottles!"

Mom: "!!!!"

...to...errr.....other items

Daughter notices cigarette packet in the car. Picks up. Has never seen one at such close quarters (thanks to the No Smoking rule in my house)

Says: "Mom, yeh cigarette company walle bhi kitne pagal hain na (Aren't these cigarette company guys crazy?) They've put a dirty photo on the packet and written 'Cigarette smoking is injurious to health'. After seeing this, why will anyone buy the packet??!!! They are ruining their own business..."

Mom: "!!!"

As you may have noticed, as I witness my 11 year old blossom into a person with her own thought process I almost always react the same way - !!!

Quandary

Lately we have been inundated with questions from the lad.

"What is gay?"

"If we kiss lip to lip we are gay?"

And offering us his pearls of wisdom.

"You can't be gay if you 'like' each other. You have to 'love'."

"Mama, we call this thing (pointing to his penis) center point"

"I don't have boobies. You have boobies. I have seeds"

Most of his statements are very matter of fact and though we maintain a very straight face and answer his queries best we can, we are still reeling under this sudden onslaught of information he is getting from his peers.....

At 7, is he growing up too fast or are we growing old?

A Childhood Memory frozen in Time!

I don't recall how old I am. But I do remember that I always loved playing on that terrace. A major part of my childhood memories revolve around the red tiled terrace that witnessed a lot of growing up too.

I run up the stairs, two at a time. I am trying to take three, but I can't. On my way down though I jump off four at a time and land on my feet. It is an achievement for me!

It is not hot today. The sun is not out. The sky is overcast as if its going to rain. I look up. Oh yes! The sky is crowded with pale clouds, not black yet that look laden with rain. I hope it rains. I love getting wet in the rain. I love it when the rain soaks my clothes, down to my undies.

Mom has placed a huge transparent jar of carrot kanji on the ledge of the terrace that overlooks Alkesh uncle's factory. It looks mouth watering. I try to shake it and watch the yellow specks of crushed mustard rise from the bottom and colour the water. I hope its ready to eat today. I know mom will send the servant to pick it up and take it home since it looks like its going to rain.

I want to play a make believe game. But I am alone. Both my brothers are downstairs at home. I have no idea what they're up to. I look up at the other side of the terrace, the elevated side that belongs to Mama. I want him, Mami and Didi to come upstairs to feel the wonderful breeze and see my new frock. I want them to call out to me so we can watch ships in the distance.

I decide to jump down to the lower level of the terrace and land on my feet again! Ha ha! I am so pleased!

I want to go under the ledge and peep into my house from the glass ventilator, but the fear of lizards is quite real. I am a little scared. But I also want to see if I can catch my mom's attention from there.

I go down and gingerly peep into our drawing room. My youngest brother is lounging on the sofa. He has just woken up from his nap. I call out for mom and he looks up and smiles. I ask him to call mom. But he doesn't speak yet so he won't be able to call her.

I crawl backwards out from the area watching my head and run to the window that opens in to Mami's house. Their dining table has morsels of food on it. They must have just had tiffin.

The thought of a crisp dosa, idli, korakattai or upma makes me hungry and I turn around, put my feet on the drain pipe to climb back on to 'our side' of the terrace. I run to Mama's terrace, reach their staircase and wade through a curtain of their washing - Mama's white veshti, Mami's green petticoat - all damp. I run down the stairs all the way and jump five steps landing with a THUD.

Mama is calling out to me, "Is that you Kukku?"

He is sitting on his lounging cane chair. "Yes Mama," I am saying.

"Come inside and have a dosai..."

Ah! Just the words I've been waiting to hear!!!!!