Boys Will Be Boys

Every now and then, I am struck, rather slapped in the face, by the realisation that the EO is in an ALL BOYS school and there is every chance that he is going to turn into a pig, a monster, an ass or maybe a combination all three. Then there's also the small matter of genetics...I have forbidden the MIM and BIL-ly Boy from telling my sons, their tales of derring-do, asinine idiocy and assitude (my word...meaning 'attitude of an ass'). Now those boys (the MIM and BIL-ly Boy) have stories that would curl your hair and leave your jaw on the floor.

The horror of watching my imaginative, story-telling, rose-cheeked son with sparkly eyes and a voracious appetite for books and stories, turn into a foul-mouthed brat sometimes has me staggering about the house, one hand clutching my poor heart and the other stuck to my forehead, going "Naaahhhhhiiiiiiiiii!"

Think I'm being melodramatic?

Well, here's a fine example of a snippet of a conversation that happened in the car yesterday after I'd picked him, the Nephew and Car-Pool Boy up from school. The three of them are having an animated conversation about this naughty boy and that teacher's pest, when suddenly the EO excitedly turns to me, eyes shining with laughter as he remember's something he wants to share with me, "Mamma, you know, today XYZ was drawing a sexy-sexy girl in his note-book..."

I gasp and interrupt him right there, how does a six-year-old know the existance of 'sexy-sexy'? Does he even know what it means?!?!? So I ask him, "A sexy-sexy girl? What's that?"

The EO explains, "You know, a hawawali girl."

At that instant I laughed in my mind. There was something innocent about the way he said it. I knew he meant "Hawaian" but I still decided to press further, "A hawawali girl? And what's that?"

"An island girl."

Yup, the boy had his concept right and it was oddly sweet too, his understanding of it and ensuing explanations...but yes, I still worry. He knows the word 'sexy'; a boy in his class draws 'hawawali girls'; the boy who draws it also knows that it's inappropriate and that he will get a 'jhapad' from his mothers so he erases it and draws Goku instead. (Goku, for those not in the know, is a character from the boy-testosterone filled cartoon series called "Dragonball Z").

I know they grow-up. I know boys will be boys who will eventually be dogs, pigs and any number of other creatures from the animal kingdom...but can't they be litte boys, baby boys and sweet innocent boys for a while longer?

July 23rd: Griho Prabesh

Over the last one-and-a-half years, the MIM and I have been building a dream, vacation home in the idyllic town of Shanti Niketan. Yes, of Rabindranath Tagore fame.

Two days ago, on Friday, 23rd July, 2010, we finally had our Griho Prabesh. It was a dream come true for many there.
For my mother, who did her MA from Bishwa Bharati University in Shanti Niketan. Even after she and my father were married and had moved to the States, a huge part of her remained behind in Shanti Niketan. She always knew that she was going to come back to India. She had even started making queries about purchasing land and building her dream home there, way back in 1974.
For the MIM's late tamma, or dadi. She was Rabindranath Tagore's student. In fact, he had composed his well-known song, 'Godhuli Logone Meghey' especially for her. She was the first to be conferred the title of 'Geetashree', the female equivalent of 'Pandit' or 'Ustad'; lesser known than it's Hindustani counterpart of 'Vidhushi'. She always wanted her own place in Shanti Niketan. Her daughter and son (my FIL) watched proudly, as the Grande Olde Dames wishes were fulfilled via her grandson (the MIM).
For the MIM and me. He wanted a holiday home. I wanted a place that I had a deeply profound, almost spiritual connection too. And thanks to my intense love of Rabindrasangeet, that place was Shanti Niketan.

However, for me, the ceremony was incomplete.

No, no. Everything took place and the pujo was beautiful. But BIL-ly Boy, SIL, the Nephew and the Niece couldn't be there thanks to the viral. The Bro, because he's busy earning a living in the States.

And most of all, because my DaddyDearest wasn't there.

At least not physically.

But he was there with me in spirit. I felt him traveling with us in the car as we drove down from Calcutta to Shanti Niketan, as I carried his photograph with me. I saw his face in the clouds as I looked out the window, at the sun-dappled tree-tops. I remembered him standing next to me, proudly and happily when we had gone for the Bhoomi Pujo, last year in February.

And I remembered the last pujo I sat for. For him. On 23rd January, 2010. Exactly six months ago.

The man worked his magic with dates once again, just so that he could be with me, somehow.