Wednesday, May 02, 2012

Bache Mann Ke Sache

Do you know that in Kyodo, Japan the Kanagawa Police returned a parakeet to the parakeet's owner after the bird told them the address, specifying the block & house number.

Meanwhile in Pindi "Ek bacha jis ne laal rung ki Tshirt pehni hai".

Khair the child growing up in Dilli "with some assistance provided from the Pindi wali "  is doing OK too.

He told me going to the breakfast table MAMA I DONT LIKE CHOICES..

Driver ji has been a patient witness to some of our squabbles too.

Small A: Sharma ji, I want to go to Landmark in Ambience Mall

Big A: Sharam nahi aati three years old and knowing the name of malls

Small A: Sharma ji PLEASE TAKE ME TO THE MALL. MALL.

Why dont you watch this nugget from the past?





Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Hume tumse pyar kitna ye hum nahi jante

Tis the season for love


though 


as I was telling someone the other day 


bahir me birds sing about


Birds Do It Bees Do It






Hamare haan birds do Hamd o Sana
Yes sometimes Oh God! 
is just that 
Ya Khuda
Shariah certified birds. Taking the name of the Lord (but not in vain) every morning 5 to 7. And at nights 630pm.


So yes it is the season of love for us mommies


Aaf is Lost in Translation

HYF nearly got eaten up by a tiger. Or was that a lion?

My little boy has been very clever 
dodging the Who Do You Love More? Mama or Baba?
queries replying either in a diplomatic
I LOVE MAMA AND BABA 
or in  a "get off my back"
I LOVE TOO MANY PEOPLE
(also a standard answer to Who Do You Love? Lala or Sachin?)


But the other day  


the squeaky wheel (me)
finally shut up


For 


to a 


" See Mama loves you because you are funny. And well mannered. And ate your prunes. And such a nice T shirt, what a cute smile. So why do you love Mama?"


he replied with a


 I LOVE YOU ALL THE TIME




Go to Jail
Go Directly to Jail
Do Not Pass Go
Do Not Collect 200

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

CSAAM-2012: Some Thoughts




A year ago I wrote about the importance of raising a rude child. Of not succumbing to the "disease to please", of our children not worrying "What if Mama or Baba get upset that I have called on their  friend/relative/co-worker ". I also wrote about how there is a lot of material out there, (all very necessary  and one can never have enough) on how Caregivers Have to be Aware. And Cautious. And Know How to protect the Children Around U). But I still fail to find enough on how one raises children who do not abuse. Or maybe someone needs to point caregivers towards it?

Something happened the other day. I witnessed an interaction  between Arhaan and some Big Boys. There is a hillock near the Hauz Khas Jheel, where the children gather most evenings to play; with an old structure, I believe it was a sarai  that Arhaan loves darting through. Darting through ruins, yes this something kids who have never watched horror movies can still do (without worrying about the Spirits That Haunt Such Spaces and who will now posess us FOREVER). But this evening there were a group of young men sitting there. They asked Arhaan to come in still. And he just stood there and said no. 

So I am watching the scene unfold, a sense of foreboding settling around us. There is a  boy, my boy, framed in the doorway. I am sitting on the grass watching. 
The young men ask me. "Doesnt he want to play here?".
There is a little girl running in and out of the doorways, shrieking with laughter. And I pause for a minute. And another. Minutes when I had to unlearn all of my "social niceties"( what if woh mind kar jaaye...how I worry still not to upset people), and summon up the guts to say NO. 
"But why isnt your boy coming in?". they ask again.
I falter for a minute. again. and then  say "For he is scared of you". 

"Scared of us", they guffaw.
And I look up and say. "Yes".

The other girl continues to run in and out. Until there is a big laugh from within the building, and the two women who are with the girl, get up and look around. They grab her when she runs out next and make her play near where they are sitting.

I think for a while about the moments when I hesitated to make the call, about how I still lack confidence, 

and our strange , strange relationship with our children.

About how children will continue to be abused. Even though we are Aware. And will be Alert. And keep an Eagle Eye.

But there is something flawed with our world.

We still do not take our children seriously enough (bachey hain bhool jayengay, they are children they will forget)

Our grown up world is complicated. We are still to unravel the skeins of Relationships. Not Rocking the Boat. Confronting The Predator. It is still far, far easy to be paranoid about whoever comes in contact with our children and warn each other about them, but we balk when it comes to the perpetrator. And I think about myself, and the protagonist in Monsoon Wedding who might have kept quiet out of a misplaced sense of responsibility, of not complicating the mother's life further. You understand dont you? That the mother, a single mom at that, had enough on her plate as it was; dependent on the goodwill of the extended family.

And I think of the families. Do the perps know of our lihaz, our concern to keep appearances, of telling the child "We Told You Na Not to Go Anywhere When Mama and Baba Are Not With You. Now Dont Talk About This and Stay Close ". And we push and push our children to live in corners. Fearful of the world. For we are scared to take people on. 

A long time ago. Yes three years and some months is a long time ago! So a long time ago when I got pregnant, other than worrying about Will the Child Be Healthy. Will There Be Space in The House; I fretted about our world , our cruel cruel world and raising a kid in it. And Oprah was on. Where she speaks with Child Molesters. I made it a point that Baba and me stopped all that we were doing, and worrying about, and watch it . I hope you and your partner watch it too and perhaps it leads to all of you starting some new conversations. Rather than shushing up kids, sheltering them from this world. For that is no life too, of being constantly fearful. Of keeping quiet and stepping aside rather than rock the boat. 

Tuesday, April 03, 2012

Chandni Chowk to China

Chandni Chowk tou nahi Chawri Bazaar; which is one stop before Chandni on the Metro. I am on my way to the Urdu Bazaar to get some books for a friend. Aap bhi aaye? I have to warn you that I was only carrying my phone so the photo quality is not that great.

Chawri Bazaar. And it is very clear why God keeps on extolling the virtues of cleanliness. Of it being  half our faith, sifai nisf imaan. Allah knows everything, especially how filthy our community can be. Why? Why? Why? If the state has given up on them, what is stopping them from picking up a jhadoo and resisting the urge to spit paan 
Growing up, and especially in Urdu Class Grade Ten; I wished Urdu a million  deaths.  But never . Never.  A fate  so cruel. To be sandwiched between hardware shops and butchers. Waise ,dear Ahle Zaban. What Is It With All the Zakir Naik. And in the store I argued with the book store owner for not stocking any of contemporary Urdu literature and too much of Naik (I refrained from my Naik Nahi Yeh KhalNayek Hai line). 
...and amongst all the angst and chaos and filth, the Jamia Masjid rose regal.  Much like Tabu in a very bad film.  In the pic you can catch a little bit of the moon. Tabu is surrounded by her own luminous aura.
...and I paid my obeisance to Karim's and admired the beautiful entrance.  The one  in Nizamuddin  is Dastarkhwan-e-Karim. The others are just pretenders to the crown.
..and walking in the alleys I admired some beautiful  balustrades , and doorways , and windows to another world. And  after a while I could imagine what the place would have looked like even a decade ago. And like many before me was lost in the dream of what was and what was yet to come.








So in conclusion. Will I go again? Maybe. But I think for now I am Team Yash Raichand. Dear Mr. Bachchan in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham , I understand your pain man. And two daughter-in-laws from the Chowk, Nandini? Wow.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

o mummy mummy, o daddy daddy o mummy daddy ho jao ready

Thank you all of you for all the love and prayers. Arhaan and his parents are very blessed to have so many of you rooting for the little guy!


He is as they say "none the worse for wear". What he makes of all things Maseehi Biradri this Lent not so much. I think someone tried to teach him Hot Cross Buns. They should have not. For he is going around the house singing.


Hot Cross Buns
If you have daughters
Please Let Me Know.


Oh my Dear Lord, no no no. 


I also think when it comes to Arhaan and Art Appreciationthe Uffizi outing from a while ago, was not  full paisa vasool , 


Earlier this morning I pointed to our print of Annunciation 






So What Is That Arhaan?
This is an angel
Good Good. And her?
Oh That is the Mother Dairy.


Gulp!


Happy Easter all of you!

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Yeh Jeevan Hai Is Jeevan Ka ...


yahi hai rangroop..
indeed.
There are days when I wake up with so much good cheer. Feeling so incredibly blessed --which is very unusual for me come March. If I am not sneezing my innards out, there is this feeling of dread Kal Exam Hai that spring flowers bring to my life, though it HAS been over two decades since ink pots and test boards (do kids still carry test boards?) bloomed in the flower beds for me, come daffodil season.  Delhi is a beautiful , beautiful city to be come spring, and for someone who has been craving for some "culture" I am spoiled for choice. though I dont know how keen Delhi is on my inner Aunty ji (I was the one tut tutting  when Sharmila Tagore lit the welcome lamp for Abida Parveen " haw hai abhi tou Nawab sahib ki qabr bhi thandhi nahi hogi")

But all this haha hee hee haw hai has been marred (or perhaps marred is too strong a term? angst, fear too, being a colour of life) by Arhaan's ill health. And Dear Reader, this brings me to why I have returned to blogging after such a long hiatus. I repeat RETURNING to blogging. Not staying away. Happiness, and being smug about my Delhi life kept me away. Acknowledging the haven that this world of words has been, and how it provided me with that spark /the light bulb moment I needed that scary Monday morning, brings me back to you.

Arhaan had a febrile seizure and if this blogger turned soul sister had not blogged about her experience with her boy's seizure a while ago, I am pretty sure I might not have recognized it for what it was and perhaps made things worse.

I understand why some of you may have decided to step back, and save your words for That Volcano Moment ...you know the bit when the lava cools down and you have shiny gems and fertile earth (see how I am still trying to attempt Geography Question Number 7: Write about the benefits of volcanoes), yes yes the first time I read about "silence within the soul" I said What Sentimental New Age Crap.  I am though coming around to understanding what you felt when you wrote those words, Shazaf. But perhaps you live in a world where there is a lot of background noise and you need to withdraw, mull over your own words, and then have your Writer's Moment. 

I dont.

My blog started out as having those conversations with Arhaan which I thought I would never have (go back to the first ten minutes of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai) ...but in turn I ended up having these exchanges with the League of Super Moms and there was this whole village that ended up raising my kid. For I realise I live in a world where most of my significant relationships are now conducted in cyber space. Where the dad tucks the kid into bed over skype, and thats how the grandmother made sure I was feeding her grandson OK. So I just cannot retreat within myself and take a sabbatical from the broadband. I have bid adieu to the TV (horror!) but it would be mommy hara kiri if I bid goodbye to the blog. I confess that I have not been able to find any of My People the way my mom's generation would have. Most of my close friends are people I might have befriended through the "social networks". Yes , yes how silly flipping the equation around. But that is the way it is. 

And in the end it comes down to this. None of my "real people" shared their children's horror stories regards seizures with me. Yes, once I discussed Arhaan's episode there have been so many of them crawling out of the woodwork telling me about their Incidents. Arey! So yes I will be forever grateful for what this blog has brought to my life. For frankly it kept me sane during that scary minute.

My blog doesnt have much readership. But if there is that One Person out there needing succor , needing some laughs as we traipse the world of Raising Kid, well I will keep plodding along. 

And I know I was supposed to write about life in Delhi. And the flowers. And the music. And the new friends . REAL FRIENDS. Like the kind of friends who come over and play with your kid, and you can stay up late night with. And all courtesy my "online life" I must confess. And friends who know Pushto! Yeah.  And I  can dream of having a fortnightly salon where we all sit in my living room and WE HAVE IMPORTANT GROWNUP DISCUSSIONS (interspersed with Arhaan giving us his poop updates, and the many many kind of poop. Also very important!)

And also how there are two Chambas in India. And neither hosts two friends, a tonga walli, a dacoit who wants to do a head count, and a man with no arms.

But that too has to wait.

for now

Kids get febrile seizures. Give them sponge baths, give them ibuprofen, welcome antibiotics into your life. Toto, we are are not in Kansas any more, these are desi bugs and they need industrial strength medicines. 
Kids also get over it. And memories of hospital stays fade over time, and you start making holiday  plans.
THIS IS LIFE.

...and now as Anand Bakshi put it.
Yeh jeevan hai, iss jeevan ka / Yehi hai, yehi hai, yehi hai rang-roop / Thode ghum hain, thodi khushiyan / Thode ghum hain, thodi khushiyan 

Chalo go listen!



Tuesday, February 21, 2012

...ho Oooo Mere Sajana Lo Main Aa Gayi

 
logon Ne Toh Diye Honge Bade Bade Nazaraane 
layi Hoon Main Tere Liye Dil Mera 
dil Yahi Maange Dua Hum Kabhi Ho Na Judaa 
mera Hai Mera Hi Rahe Dil Tera 
yeh Meri Zindagi Hai Teri 



Ok enough of Jaya P in a spangled dress.
I am back.
And it is Delhi for the year.
There was a weekend at the Jaipur Lit Fest. Mommy Got A Weekend Off  where she gossiped with octogenarians about The Bhutto Only Indians Like, and met the lovely, lovely Mohammad Hanif. I think everyone needs a Mohammad Hanif in their life.  
I have maids who need a nazar suraksha kavach of their own. There is the Sweet One, the Saucy One, and the Sour Puss.
And there is the resident poltergeist who is imaginary friend for The Boy and imaginary servant for The Mum. 
Yes many many stories. 
all in good time.
You watch the rest of the song until I am ready.