Posted in My life

Slaying Our Personal Dragons

We have just faced the worst fear of parents–children stepping out of their control zone! Our daughter has finally joined school. For 5 hours, she is out of our sight and very much on our minds. I can only wonder how parents send their children to hostels or marry them off. We can’t breath properly if until we see her again. It is like a part of us leaves with her. The house is too quiet and weird without her chatter.

And then, there is the fear for her well being–we know she is in safe hands. (My husband visited the school multiple times to ensure that.) But still the days and nights before the first day at school were filled with instructions.

  • Never keep hands on door threshold or some one might close the door and crush it. (Sure!)
  • Never close the classroom door. (Sure!)
  • Never let others close the classroom door. (Sure!)

Note that there are no doors in the classes of this school to ensure children don’t shut them, but still our daughter indulged us.

  • Never jump from benches. (I never do!)
  • Never run on stairs. (I never do!)
  • Clutch the railing tightly when going up and down the stairs. (I always do!)
  • Don’t stay alone in a classroom. (What if I am the first child in the class?)
  • Don’t leave your classroom unless accompanied by a teacher. (What if I have to use loo?)
  • Don’t play outside classroom. Someone might push. (Okay!)
  • Don’t play inside classroom. You can get hurt with all the benches. (Where will I play then?).
  • Don’t enter a class that is not yours. (Why would I do that?)
  • Don’t leave the school until Papa arrives. (Okay!)
  • Don’t stay alone inside school until Papa arrives. (Where will go then, if I am the last one?)
  • Don’t talk to strangers. (Papa will drop me and pick me up! When will I get a chance?)

And then there was more serious stuff about good touch-bad touch and self-defense heirarchy with increasing severity. If someone corners you or you don’t like their touch:

  1. Say No. Tell them to leave you alone. (What if they don’t?)
  2. Shout (What if they cover my mouth?)
  3. Bite and run (What if I can’t bite?)
  4. Kick (Not tall enough!)
  5. Fingers in the eyes, nose and throat, and run (My fingers are not strong enough!)
  6. Pencil in the eyes, nose and throat, and run (What if I don’t have pencil?)
  7. Anything in the eyes, nose and throat, and run (Fine, I’ll try.)
  8. Never use self defense against children. (What if a big boy at school hurts me?)
  9. Complain to a teacher. (What if there is no teacher?)
  10. Shout…

And so we go again…

In the end I was afraid that I had converted my daughter into a walking landmine, ready to explode at the touch, and I had to calm her down, reminding her that most people are nice and generous. They don’t hurt people and usually take care of children. I am wondering whether I have done a good job.

Even after all these preparations, on the first day, after walking her to school, my husband went back there to check on her after an hour and would have gone again if it wasn’t against the rules. He reached the school half an hour early to bring her back home.

All these years, we had waited for the day to come when our daughter would go to school and we would have some quiet time. Now, all we can do is look at the clock slowly ticking away the time until she returns home and fills our day again with her constant chatter.

Posted in My life, Twisted Tales

The Hare, the Tortise, and the Storysmith’s Daughter

My three-year old daughter demands me stories nearly all day. I try to wave off the requests most of the times, since it means overusing my brain, which is already fried by listening and singing nursery rhymes, and dealing with petty quarrels regarding property rights over various animals, dolls, lego blocks and kitchen set, apart from building the training courses for clients.

My favourite way to wave off the request is to ask my daughter to tell me a story before I tell her one. Usually, she asks me to excuse her to deal with an ‘important matter’ and leaves the vicinity until I had forgotten the request (my daughter through and through). A few days back, though, after multiple requests, she acquised to tell me a story of the Hare and the Tortoise.

As most of you would know, the original story was about a race between a vain but fast Hare and a humble but slow Tortoise. The vain Hare underestimates his competitor and sleeps off half way through the race and wakes up to find that the Tortoise has reached the finish line. I was expecting a retelling of the same tale.

However, this is the tale she told me (in Hindi).

There was a Hare 🐰 who was going to market to buy some carrots 🥕(?), because all Hare love carrots 🐰💕🥕.

He met a Tortoise 🐢 on the way who asked him nicely if he could join him–he needed to buy some carrots too 🥕 (??), because all Tortoise love carrots too 🐢💕🥕.

So, off they went merrily 🐇🐢. (Not sure when the race will begin!)

On the way, they met an Elephant 🐘 (???) who asked them not so nicely to carry him to the market because he wanted to buy some carrots too (because, obviously, all elephants love carrots too, 🐘 💕🥕). Or else he will step on them 😡.

So the Hare punched him 👊 (That was one strong Hare!), and then, he pulled the Tortoise on his back and ran to the market. 🐇🐢💨 (AHA!!!)

Then, they, bought carrots🥕, and happily ate them.

Author’s mother’s note: Well, what can I say,  I love carrots too…🤣🤣🤣

Posted in My life

The 3 Dollar Playschool

My daughter turned three this month. Amidst the Corona Virus scare, we were not able to celebrate. We also had to postpone her admission to playschool. Still, I wanted to make the day special for her.

Then my mind drifted to the Playhouse I build last year for 1.5 USD. The flowers were now peeling off and the color yellow had become mellow. My family was planning to discard it. I thought better and gave my child a Playschool and something to occupy her time.

It cost three dollars (around 200 Rs). I pasted 16 pieces of card sheets, glue, and cello tape. Then, wrote English-Hindi alphabets and numbers on the inner sides. Tadaaaaaaaaa! The school was ready.

For decoration, I hired professional help–my daughter. I gave her colors and a free reign. She is still having a gala time ‘decorating’ it!

Here is the result.

I drew the animals, she coloured.

.

She drew the animals, we coloured.

The best part is that within a month, my daughter learnt how to write English alphabets just because of the excitement and the sense of importance. The ‘play-school’ walls are full of animal names my daughter has written and we are progressing to numbers next.

And I have a wonderful artifact that will be auctioned for 1000 dollars someday! (Well, a mother can hope!)

Posted in My life, Random Thoughts

A Tough Assignment

Lately, my nearly-3-year daughter has taken to creating ‘bouquet’ of animals.

Ever so often, she asks me what animals I want. I give her a random list. Then she asks me which color I want them in. After half an hour of hard labor, the bouquet is ready and it looks something like this.

Or this.

Now the daunting task is to label each animal accurately without hurting her feelings. But by now, I have already forgotten the list and color code, not that she follows it anyway.

Since I am a small-town woman and her paintings are on more of the experimental side, I am at a loss most of the time. So, I try to get the information from my only source without showing my confusion. I admit, I rely heavily on flattery and treats.

“Oh! What a pretty animal! Such pretty wings!”

(Flattered and pleased) “Not wings, they are feet.”

This is my first clue that it is not a bird.

“Oh yes, it has a nice long tail. Very beautiful.”

(Even more flattered and pleased) “That’s the trunk.”

Mystery solved. “Such a cute elephant!”

I write its name next to it.

But being a small-town woman, I am bound by the old-fashioned thoughts and, at times, make monumental mistakes. “Let’s add his ears.”

(A little annoyed now) “But it already has ears.”

“Of course! How silly of me! Here, take a Chocolate chip.”

Placated, we begin with the next animal. After a week of labeling these mysterious animals, you would think I’d get the hang of it. But I’m a simple woman from a small town. Modern art eludes me.

Posted in Life and After, Love

Prayers Late at Night

We call him

Over and over again,

Sitting next to the phone,

Waiting

And praying,

And crying,

And praying again;

That he had reached home safe

And fallen deep asleep;

Or switched off his phone

After our fight last night;

Or run away

With the guy

His father is so against.

Anything’s better than

What the Police states…

They’ve found a body

In the bottom of the lake.