Everyday is another day. Hopefully!

'I don't want to go to school!'

This has been a unfailed chant every dawn. She's approaching two months since the day she began Grade I. Things seemed different in the beginning but now school seems revolting. I sometimes tell her it is not going to be the same every day.

Every day is another day. Hopefully.

'You know why I don't want to go to school? '

A tiny implore is diffusing out of her question.

'Because my ears pain when the teacher yells so much!'

Now she's lost it. Broken tears stream her face.

She may be a pep talker to some but she is containing it all inside.

Now how do I talk to this kid? How do I reach out to her?

Maybe talking is pointless. All I've been doing so far is hug and kiss and mutter a "I understand " into her ears.

'Why do they have to yell, Amma? All the time!'
How about your Maths teacher? You like her a lot, don't you? Does she yell sometimes?
'She never yells. She is gentle. But the other teacher, you know the helper teacher, she is always rude. And it is painful.'

She adores her Maths teacher deeply, truly, madly.

'Amma, she is my class teacher, you know? She is MY class teacher !'

If you want to be face to face with pure, unadulterated pride and acceptance, you should have been right there with me that day.
Before my very eyes.
She burned like a thousand splendid suns.

Donkey Angel with a pink bow

Tonight we slept like angels did.

Tonight I claimed indulgence from my little girl as I played Eeyore, the unforgettably (highly suspect ?!) "unmemorable" stuffed toy donkey character from the widely known Winnie the Pooh adventure stories . It all began with me trying to jog her memory of him ( I don't know why we got there) and it did come to her eventually but only to sufficiently end in magic realism diffused from within her.

Some of the things that kids say and imagine, seem to sink its hooks right into our very hearts. We wouldn't have had this enchanting conversation if I were to remain the "Amma me" busying us to be tucked in bed.

She sought the conduit of the "Eeyore me".

It was bedtime so I feigned exhaustion and sleepiness. I switched the lights off, the door wide open to the hallway- the room gently aglow from its light; the rays of which found its slant landings on one of her drawings tacked dutifully on the wall of this room; many moons ago. It was a drawing made out of her glitter pens, done with all the "loverliness" afloat in her heart while I'd been away from her for a few days . When I'd gotten back she presented me with that sublime sparkly piece of art.

A drawing of me and her.

She was recounting to the "Eeyore me" what the "Amma me" thought of her work.

"Do you know what she felt? She loved it so much she wanted to stay there!"
"Stay where?", I checked while not betraying my Eeyore inflection.
"In my picture. In glitter land." She sounded incredulous yet persisted on.
"You know what my mother says? That we have a third eye in our hearts and that helps us see the wings we have. It is using our imagination. That is why we're angels. My mother and I are angels."

There goes the meaning of her life in a single breath. Quite a metaphysical thought for a 6 year old to be tossing at a bedtime conversation. And no, she did not get "the third eye in our hearts" concept from me. It's all a result of the churnings of her mind. Heart? Brain?

I resumed my curiousity.

"So do only children have the third eye in their hearts?"
"Well, not all. It's like Shiva. His left eye is the Sun, right eye the Moon and the third eye the fire."

She ends "fire" with a slip of a revelation to be kept just between the two of us. That was to remain our secret knowledge. (Not quite so now, is it?!)

She goes on, "So only those who believe in the third eye will see glitterland. And so we're angels.
Do you believe in the third eye, Eeyore?"
"I'm beginning to believe in it now." I said,  swearing inside my head that I'd felt my heart grow luminous in a smile.
"Then you will be a donkey angel with a pink bow!"

I cracked up at that declaration. My once blazing heart spilled all over our space. She felt sublimed immediately- mighty pleased to have found a gloom dripping Eeyore guffawing in her face.

" I don't usually live here. Can you see that greyish brown part in the sky?", she asked while pointing at the window. It was dark, overcast with looming rain clouds made aware of its presence by the city lights.
"I live there. I have a castle. You can't see it from here."
This, she confides in me with all her breath put in this belief.
I add on, "It's like those Japanese movies with castles in the sky."
"No. My castle doesn't stay there. It has wings. Large wings. And I sit on them. It floats!" Animation oozed from within her eyes and voice like satin.
"There are swans too. And the huge castle is in the middle of it. It's got a ceiling as high as space!"
"Ah!"

She went on about it through the night, in great length like an artist performing a soliloquy; so intoxicated in the narration of her imaginings that I had to snap the both of us out this other worldly revel.
It was a school night, after all!

 All we can do sometimes is shrug at the choice we've decided to take. 

Today, she took her break from school and forged her solidarity with the whole "school going business" in the night by conferring with the ghosts of her imagination - which included me, the donkey angel with the pink bow. We were both replenished in a strange way. Almost transcendently.

Tonight we slept like angels did.

Fringe benefits of being a pre-schooler

What she lacks for in niceties and sugar-coated talk, she makes up for with liberal splashes of kisses. Yes, its a kiss mania. Umma, umma, ummma!!

Sometimes its expected, other times I'm caught in a hysteria of kisses so unexpected that I'm literally stopped on my tracks. Such enervating emotions, sigh! But I can live with that 😊

With fits of frenzied affection, I'm smothered and spoiled to bits by my only child. And it has also become a sort of public display of affection, not that she knows much ado about public and private emotional plays.

Whenever she sticks out a cheek for a kiss, I go all the way unhesitantly (the typical mother type). But with P, kisses are without provocation and utter disregard for the surrounding which would have bothered the 'old me' a great deal. But she has taught me that there is no harm in spreading the 'Magnificence of love' wherever I go. I call it the 'Stardust effect' rubbing on me 😊.

Not a single day would pass by without her teeming, boisterous energy infecting me in some manner. Her spirit, her opinionated self is so afflicting that its influence cannot be escaped. I'm not on the throes of extolling her the highest honour here. This is merely an account of a mother, a woman unemployed and steeped into the art of parenting. Anything I love, I immerse into it with fiery passion and parenthood is no different. There are possiblities unexplored here, territories to be discovered and potentials to be stumbled upon. Sans job, I can invest a lot of time and energy into raising P in a certain way that I believe is largely beneficial to her.

Who do I go to when I need to wear off my withdrawal symptoms (leaving Bangalore times)? Who do I find sneaking a book of  dinosaurs, horses and elephants (a recent addition) devouring every picture filled page? Who do I sit beside to watch monster doodle or paint with an enthusiasm so infectious that it has stirred up a slight interest for art in me? Who croons along when I sing 'Unni vavavo' or 'Ponnumthinkal'? Who comes to my rescue with an inescapable charm that derides my sometimes moody self? Who do I play 'knock knock' every night just to hear her tiny, honey-sweet voice answer 'Its me, Sumani'? Who do I get to hear remarkably wise observations from? Who do I hear give gasp-inducing talk so that I end up dribbling notes on my phone about it? Who do I see putting up brave, stoic faces (very rare occasions these are) when I had to strike her only because it becomes deviously uncontrollable? Above all, who do I get to snuggle up to every night to read bedtime stories, honing my story telling skills along the way of tantalizing her imaginations, her eyes and jaws wide open in wonder and definitely all ears? 😊Oh, how I cherish that sight!!.

She is a masterpiece of her own being which I believe is universally applied to children.

She helped me form new and interesting impressions of the people around us. Of the people we know of. Of the people we don't know of.

She taught me to go easy on myself sometimes, so that things get easy around us. And I totally subscribe to this philosophy although its easier said than done.

And I'm happy to nourish, enrich and nurture her for as long as I can. It is such a humbling experience and such a GRIND! Not every day will be spectacular with P but at least a spectre of self education creeps in each day. That is real to me.

Who knew this ever blooming girl, once a peanut sized life could bring out such a transformation in me as a person. Her declarations of love is what I seek when I'm in dire need of 'reassurance' and 'renaissance' as a person.

Because I'm nice! :)

Penny for my 3.6 year old 'peach' girl's thoughts? Yes, I will have to sometimes. Other times she lets me know for free. The trajectory of her thoughts, I  must admit, has baffled me on quite a few occasions. 'Did she actually notice that about me?' 'How long has she been wanting or thinking like that?' Questions in puffy clouds hovering over my head.

But in this post, which I type at the risk of my daughter waking up any minute all ready to demand things from me, I intend to pour down flashes of her amusing thoughts for posterity's sake. C'mon, I do fancy her reading all this someday if my husband manages to get a printout 😊

The other day while we were watching our-obsessively-favourite-animated film-of-now (Fyi, it keeps changing every month or so) , 'Despicable me'; we got to a scene where Margo (one of the adorable adopted girls by Gru) was pecking away to glory on her phone , while Gru, in a mask of overwhelming anxiety, tries to make sure she isn't texting a boy. The point is that at this moment of the film, my little girl presses the pause button, looks up from the screen and tells me, 'She's just like you, reading and writing on the phone' Gasp!

Above the din of all that clacking noise on the keyboard (as a result of penning down some gibberish) I made one day, we were trying to have a semblance of a 'not so distracted ' conversation. And the topic was our likelihood of visiting my hometown in Kerala for my sister's marriage. And then with girlish enthusiasm my daughter tests me, 'Will I get married?' How in the world did she get the idea of 'her' marriage? This one was a recent gasp! 😊

We were having one of our sporadic idle Saturday talk. One of those talks where I try to understand my daughter's sensibilities and feelings through the art of subtlety. Sometimes I believe these talks have been long overdue but once they are done, I feel a lot closer to her, as if I'd just unlocked some secret door inside of her and trust me, on those days my face is definitely beaming 😊 as if I were bestowed the crown of parenthood😁. Cutting to the chase, we were making some small talk when li'l P suddenly exclaimed, ' I'm a peach girl. My skin is peach colour!' To this remark, I was flabbergasted alright but then I ventured on 'What colour is my skin?'. She paused to think and then said, ' peach colour!' with her trademark grin. I was obviously flattered 😁 but did I get an understanding of how her brain unspools? Darn it! I didn't need to then. She will probably say everyone around her is peach in colour for all that matters. All she does is see things with her own eyes, unraveling herself, questioning me and nudging me to look at the other side of things. And believe me, no matter what the colour, my li'l P will accept the good things and wonder about the bad ones at this point in her life. Will she be my quintessential teacher or vice-versa?( Kids are most of the times eye-openers to their parents)? It is highly likely. But as of now, the only skin colour she has a  minuscule of interest in is hers. Should I be concerned? Not if she is. But I do plan to keep it 'no bother' if the topic ever comes to that again.

And the creme de la creme of her thoughts was discovered today. I'd just given her a bath and after her mandatory soaking in a bucket of water (she calls herself a hippo then!), she hauls herself out of it and walks to her room dripping wet. I dry her and then ask her to go wear her underwear. She is big enough to do that but she ignores me and instead chooses to dally about with her toys on the bed. And I go like, ' Aren't you ashamed?' To which she stunned me saying, 'No, because I'm nice!' And I intend to keep it that way. I intend for her to not unlearn this simple ability to love and respect one's body.

Being a (default) parent,for many reasons, does come with a price but it definitely does add spark to my life 😅

And now that I've let it out into the virtual void, I'm at peace 😊

A Mama's Story

When I first saw the 1948 film ‘I remember Mama’, I felt proud and happy at the end of it. Normally, after viewing a film belonging to the genre of motherhood, particularly the ones that ooze the very essence of motherhood marvellously with their unflinching devotion and tender ways, I tend to get reminded of my own mother. I get transported to those days, which I still yearn for, where father is the head of the family but you are nevertheless taken under the loving shelter of your mother, the problem solver, the ultimate controller of the happenings. But today I’m bubbling with pride because I not only relate the central character to my mother, but I saw shades of myself in her. There were several moments in the movie that has beautifully struck a sharp chord on me. I shall write on one such moment. There was this particular point in the film where the mother, played by Irene Dunne, promises her fourth daughter that she would be near her once her surgery is done. But due to the rules laid out by the hospital, the mother is refused to visit her daughter for 24 hrs. Because she doesn’t want to go back on her promise and because she was dying to see her child well, she plans on visiting her child that very night in the guises of a floor cleaner. For most of us, this act only would suffice to prove the concerns of a doting and caring mother. But to me it was the scene that followed that that was almost magical. She enters her daughter’s ward and finds her little angel lying on bed, trying to go to sleep. She sings her a lullaby in her angelic voice that puts the rest of children to sleep as well. But the whole beauty of the scene comes after that when Dunne walks out of the room as soon as the duty nurse returns. The nurse observes the room and notices that there is a change, that there is a wonderfully soothing, almost berceuse silence emanating from the room, that for a minute she wondered if that was the very same room she had left a couple of minutes ago. For me, that was the icing of this delicious cake. Not because of the effort she took to see her daughter and keep her word but because of the ethereal effect her song had on the entire ward. It was a wonderfully treated scene by director George Stevens. The movie definitely sums up the everlasting magical effect a mother can provide her family. And to me, it was a gentle reminder of the mother within me that it kindles my heart to even think of it. This film wasn’t just about a mother but a tale of a woman of solid substance. She is a wife, daughter, niece and a sister too. Her responsibilities stretches beyond her family. And she doesn’t waver in her love towards anyone, although we know for certain that it is not easy to care for everyone with the same wavelength. To put down my higher innermost thoughts on the movie, I should say it was a self-introspection in several ways for me, even from the rare and rather unusual scenes. Everyone ought to watch this film at least once in their lifetime to witness the unquestionable splendour of motherhood as well as womanhood, played perfectly by Irene Dunne.

Manjadikuru...A peek into my past

There has been no movie that has moved me to such a great dimension as this one and that too on an intimate personal level. I too was born and grew up in Dubai during the early 90's but I can still connect to the film so well. How can I forget those times when we visited our ancestral home for every single summer holiday, when myself and my sister would eagerly count the days and tell each other that we will touchdown Kerala, our native soil at this time tomorrow. There were moments we would remain shocked when we discovered the time we could buy bread from the nearby grocery store  or when TV came into existence with a bang at my father's place. It, being a small village,we had a large crowd in the veranda that faced the bedroom in which this magical entertaining box  was kept for direct viewing by our village audience in the evening.

When I saw the movie, it made me realize how so very similar I was to Vicky. Telling the story from this protagonist child's view point was so refreshing. It made me wonder at myself as to what happened to that me who was often curious and surprised about the various ways things around me. When I asked amma to watch the movie, she did and she too agreed that I wasn't any different from Vicky. In fact,she could relate to the movie just as well as I could. I too had buddies long lost. There was this girl, who was older than me by a year or two. I was in my 5th grade when we came down for a vacation and I was wondering why she too was in fifth grade. My visit the very next year kept me thinking even more as to why she wasn't studying anymore. I also had other wonderful memories like playing around with calf. I would stroke it at literally every waking minute of my vacation. And just as in the movie, I too had very very rare vacations were we had all our aunts and uncles together. My father's brothers were all based in Dubai and we were the only folks who happened to and were lucky to visit our place every year. There are some things in the movie I haven't done. I'm so sorry to say that I haven't picked Manjadikurus, which was the fountainhead of this remarkable movie. But this was the only film where I watched a protagonist playing myself in the movie :). It rang so true to my life and with such resonance that I believe will never be seen again. I'm now based in Bangalore and will be visiting Kerala this week, after a couple of months break. Hope to get a glimpse of my roots this time!

20-24 months- the parrot girl!

My little sunshine will turn 2 in a week's time and one of the most amazing incidents happened last saturday (2/3/2013). Since her joining the play home in Jan, she had already attended to the sports day. But the annual day that took place the day before led me to a shocking revelation of my own daughter. I do not know if it will change with time or is it just a glimpse of her slowly evolving personality. Let me directly jump into the details. When we arrived at the preschool premises, I realized that they have organized a small performance by the play home kids. Since I wasn't aware of this, panic started to build in me in a slow way. I didn't want to go through that drama of her crying when she faces a crowd. Soon enough they asked the 12 kids to assemble and take seats that were arranged on the side of the stage. Each child was called upon where he/she will go to her teacher sitting on stage and sing rhymes. That was when her favourite helper came over to take her, which she happily did. When they had called upon Nakshatra, I was pleasantly surprised and I would lie if I did not tell you that my chest was swelling with pride to watch ponutti get up from her seat and walk over to the teacher with an inordinate sense of confidence. She took the mic from her and began to sing the way she does to us, except that she saw me while singing the third song and called out 'Amma' to which everyone laughed and turned over to look at me. I was embarrassingly happy. She did not complete the last rhyme and when the whole activity was over her class teacher told me she sings even better in class. But to me all this was blinded by what I'd just witnessed. Like the principal quoted her composure and body language on stage as 'fearless', I guess I should term it as 'monumental'. This is one of those incidents that you safely want to place on the rack of your memory but when ponutti reads this post one day, there will always be the proof the CD that we'll receive soon.

The four months can be rightfully described as the months of pure unadulterated talking like forming 2-4 word sentences. But the funny thing is that she would repeat even the most insignificant comment we make. It's very much like having a parrot around at home.
Ponutti joined her playhome on Jan 2nd and it was since then that she loved doing actions to any rhyme she is familiar with. I have seen a tremendous change in her with respect to knowing things. She still does not mingle with anyone and everyone. She even took time to mingle with her classmates. But apart from that, she is really happy and having fun with her teacher and two helpers. She also sings simple rhymes like baba black shep. humpty dumpty(her favourite), twinkle twinkle little star. Her knowledge in using words has had a towering influence in her talking. It may not always be a clarified way of pronounciation but yes, I do believe people will be able to figure it out.
When my mother visited for a period of three days in the month of Jan, I was genuinely shocked but happy that ponutti not just recognized her but also went up tosit on her lap. That is a huge complement in Ponuttis way. She never does that with anyone. She is still dependent and clingy for a lot of things on me. But in school, she has also begun to adore her Ruth aunty very much. Her class teacher was telling me the other day that she always comes first for race competitions in class. This I had seen when I used to sit with her in the beginning. I was pleasantly surprised, I should say that she was actually winning against kids way bigger, maybe even 4-5 months apart. Actually speaking, she is the youngest girl(1 year and 91/2 months) who joined in a  class of toddlers between 2-3 years. But during sports day which happened in February, it was nothing like the enthusiasm she used to show in class. I guess part of it was because of the onset of cold and another part due to the intimidation she felt when she saw other parents around. But the good part was as soon as the teacher came to her,the vestigial excitement she used to have for these kind of events came rushing back and she did her jumping race well enough. She has now found a friend in our next door neighbor Sanju. And other thing I'm very much proud of, is that she is grasping concepts with such ease. I was telling her one day that her ammama in Dubai has come down to Kerala. And now whenever I ask her about her grandma, she would say 'ammama kerala'. She has also corrected words that she would wrongly pronounce like balloon, chetta . She loves saying ABC'S, 123's and particularly the days of the week that ends with a melodious Saturday  There was a time when she would say MNOPQ even when she cries or fusses about for anything. There was another time when she touch our feet with respect after visiting Nikhil's Kalari class. I was even named her 'spider girl' because she would climb window grills to extend where she would reach the tubelight.

The word I've begun to hate in the process is 'paale'. She wouldn't stop asking till she gets milk from me. These four months were unbelievably fast and she kept learning huge concepts every week! We are bound to become spellbound when we notice our child's prodigious streak :)