About My YO

I am so busy marveling at the similar interests that my EO and I share and going into rapturous ecstasy over his linguistic skills, that at times, I am guilty of over-looking my little one's growing oratory prowess.

Of course, being around the EO and The Nephew has made the YO quite the little chatterbox; he's not afraid to speak his mind, voices his opinions and puts into words just what he's thinking. He tries to copy their manner of talking and likes to use phrases and expressions that the elder boys throw about with such flippant ease. Their play-time together and pretend games have helped his imagination soar and he is also quite a charming and expressive story-teller in his own right. Their company has also accounted for his rather impressive vocabulary...replete with some of the wrong things too, unfortunately, but that is one of the hazards of little siblings hanging around elder ones...sigh...

However, I shall forget for a moment that in a voice loud, proud and clear as mountain water, he spelled out 'a very bad word' to my absolute horror and chagrin. I immediately asked him to spell 'school' and of course the look he gave me was as blank as my Class 9 Maths answer sheet.

But as I said, this is not about that. This is about the time when he was riding his scooty around the house, pretending to be a cool cat stuntman and then came to tell me that he almost banged into the two settees in the living room...

So my YO was riding his scooty around the house, pretending to be a cool cat stuntman when he suddenly charged into my room, full of excitement to tell me about the near and neat miss. "...and you know Mamma, so I wuz riding my scooty so coolly and so fastly when I almosht had an accident and I almost banged so hard into doze two twin brudders sitting over there."

"Huh?", said I, my mind going into stupid mode.

"Doze two twin brudders", he repeated for his poor, old and rather slow mother, pointing in their direction and laughing at his own cleverness.

When realisation dawned, I couldn't help but be awestruck at my little shrimp's imagination.

Sigh...perhaps BOTH my boys will be writers after all!

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The EO is an avid quizzer. Already. GK is one of his favourite subjects and he actually enjoys reading kiddie encyclopaedia and 'Tell Me Why" books. This is another common passion that binds us together.

It was therefore a tremendous thrill for me when the YO, at yesterday's inauguration ceremony of the Apeejay Lit Fest, won a book for a sudden pop quiz that the emcee decided to hold as we waited for the Chief Guest to arrive.

The YO's class had been invited to perform at the opening ceremony of this three-year-old lit fest. They did an adorable dance to this very catchy song on reading. This was after the Chief Guest, tabla maestro Bickram Ghosh -- a musician I just happen to adore -- rapped out a story and a poem, told a few stories using rhythm and tabla bols, played on his cheeks (no, not butt cheeks and yes, really, really hard) and generally enthralled the young audience and charmed the young audience members' mothers as well.

But yes, before dear old Bickram arrived and did his playing and rapping and enthralling and charming, the emcee decided to have a pop quiz. I know, I already said that

Anyhoo, she made it really fun and asked questions like, "All the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put WHO back together again?" and "Where did the old woman with so many children live?"

Now as this was rather impromptu, the emcee sometimes forgot that she was addressing a bunch of four and five year olds, and would begin a question by asking, "How many of you have read Hans Christian Anderson?" Naturally she was met with silence. The same happened when she asked, "Do any of you read Enid Blyton?"

Ooof! Woman! They're just about reading number names and spelling out colours and differentiating between January and July! (however, here's a clever tip to keep a bunch of high-energy, excitable, noisy bunch of kids quiet -- ask them difficult quiz questions!)

So, whenever she was met with these spells of silence and puzzled faces, she'd quickly rephrase the question. So the Hans Christian Anderson one became, "Which pretty girl from a famous story by HCA, had an evil step-mother and two mean step-sisters?" and the Enid Blyton q became, "What was Big Ear's good friend's name?"

Many of you might remember that the YO was, once upon a time, hooked on Noddy and even had a Noddy themed birthday party two years ago. So as soon as he heard the name "Big Ears", my little shrimp just jumped up, threw his hand out in front of him with full force and screamed, "NODDY!" Of course there were a few others who also gave the right answer, but luckily the emcee saw my little boy and called him out to collect his prize.

My son was beaming and so was I. He beamed even harder when his Mamma answered a question correctly which was passed on to us after the children couldn't answer it. And his beaming got even brighter when he noticed from where he was sitting, that Mamma's prize included a couple of packets of his most favourite thing to eat -- biscuits!

We came back home yesterday, a beaming mother-son duo.

Sigh...perhaps BOTH my boys will be quizzers after all!

And of course it was the EO who pounced upon his brother's prize and finished reading it in two minutes, but hey, it was my YO who won it after all, naa?

Wishes for 2012

It's already Day 3 of a brand new year. 2012 is well and truly underway.

I wish you all the serenity of moonlit nights and the joy of chocolate souffle.

I wish you the peaceful moments of reflection, as quiet as the dawn and a cool calm to face those morning moments of madness.

I wish you beauty, I wish you love.

I wish you creativity.

Be bold. Be brave. Be beautiful. Be true.

Stay happy. Stay healthy. Stay hopeful. Stay you.

Of Cakes and Wise Bites

I baked a cake this evening. For the first time. EVER. I baked a caked today for the first time EVER in my life. Walnut & Cranberry Cake. And I'm thrilled to bits.

I also happened to write a poem on cake this morning. On the Mishti Doi Cheesecake I make. Yes, this one's a frozen cake while the other's a baked goodie, but still, it's got the word 'cake' in it. So there. Coincidence. Prophetic. Or plain, simple can't-get-cake-out-of-my-mind-itis.

Funny time to be baking a cake for the first time, actually. Or rather, the worst possible time. I'm up to my eyeballs in work and am getting by on 3-4 hours of sleep for the past two weeks. I am busy trying to devote every single moment I have to work, but the distractions are many, many, oh-so-many and I'm not the most easily focused of people, so the last place I needed to be was in the kitchen. I should have been working. That guilt is going to eat me up for a good four or maybe even five hours! Sigh...

Well, whatever it was, I baked a cake.

The reason I'm so excited is because I've always wanted to bake. Ever since I discovered the joys of cooking I knew that I would one day bake too. I'd fantasize about baking the best chocolate chip cookies for my boys. I did experiment with a few biscuit and bread recipes and they turned out fine, but for some strange reason, I never got hooked...even though the dream remained. And these past few years, I've been so busy with chicken, prawns, mutton and frozen desserts, that I just never got around to making those chocolate chip cookies.

But now the time has come. Soon enough. For today, I baked a cake.

And I was nervous about it. Very nervous about it.

As usual, whenever I potter about the kitchen, the boys hover about, especially the EO. Bong and foodie that he is, he's always around, asking questions, tasting things, offering to help, offering to help taste things...you know.

Needless to say, the boys and The Niece were very excited about the cake. They kept checking up on it as much as I did.

When it was finally time to take it out, the EO happened to be the only one in the kitchen with me. He was excited. I was nervous. And I said so. Out loud. At least a few times. Out loud.

And that's when I get gobsmacked. My EO, my eight-year-old, little boy said to me soothingly, "Don't be nervous Mamma. There's nothing to be nervous about. Just think that you've done this 200 times before and that's it. Ok?"

When did he grow to be so wise? So mature? My little mash-up of a Jughead Jones and Archie Andrews, was spouting wisdom far beyond his years and it brought tears to my eyes.

And then, when I give him the first bite, he closes his eyes, lets it tease his tastebuds and says, "You've got magic in your hands."

Sigh...some girl is really going to be lucky to get him.

EO-speak

"Mamma, we're aching to watch this movie!"

"Don't worry mamma, I'm not that gullible."

"The birthday party was block-buster! Maha epic, it was!"

"I'm such a clutz, naa mamma?"

"Ok, ok, enough! I said cut it out!"

"I'm trying to control my expressions, but I'm feeling humiliated."

"Oh gross! That is too revolting for words!"

"Mamma, please! I'm exhausted!"

"See, see? He's being so obnoxious!"

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Yes, these are actual phrases said by my son over the past one year. In other words, in the 7 - 8 year-old phase of his life. Out of the mouths of (slightly older) babes and all that jazz.

But seriously, this is what happens when you make a book-worm out of your child. They try and use the words and phrases that they read as part of their normal conversation.

Of course, the flip-side is that they try and use EVERYTHING they read such as "You're such a poo-poo head!" or "Your brain is like mouldy Swiss cheese!", the usual recipients being cousins and younger brothers -- in which case you want to whack him one on the butt (while secretly laughing inside!)

Book Review: Devdutt Pattanaik's "7 Secrets of Vishnu"

When you are asked to review a book by one of your favourite authors, and that too, on a subject that you have been passionate about ever since you have been a little kid, then the task at hand can only be a pleasant one. Well, that is exactly what reviewing Devdutt Pattanaik’s “7 Secrets of Vishnu” was for me. I have been an avid mythology buff ever since I can remember and the passion has only intensified with time.

I have been reading Devdutt Pattanaik’s work for quite a while now. Not just me, in fact, but my eight-year-old son as well, who is a fan of Pattanaik’s “Adventures in Devlok” series.

The Hindu trinity, as we all know, comprises of Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer. The symbols and rituals connected to Each One are markedly different. And why not? It stands to reason as They represent different levels of consciousness. They do not look like Each Other, nor do They behave similarly and They perform different duties. Pattanaik’s “7 Secrets of Vishnu” attempts to help the reader decipher the symbology and unlock the secrets behind the stories and rituals associated with Lord Vishnu.

Through the stories of Vishnu, complex Hindu ideologies and philosophies have been communicated in an easy to read manner. Issues that we have always wondered about have been addressed beautifully by the author. Like, for example, why are the Devas and Asuras, both the offspring of Brahma, always at war? The saga of the never-ending battles between the Devas and the Asuras bring to light the emotional turmoil faced by both; the Devas also represent insecurity while the Asuras embody ambition and thus the constant state of unrest.

The book takes us through the various avatars assumed by Him on Earth. Divided into seven chapters, each one helps us in understanding key concepts and in delving into the mysteries of the Divine. I learnt so many new things from each of these chapters, which is always very exciting. For example, I learnt about Alakshmi, the Sister of Lakshmi who accompanies her Sister wherever She goes and She represents strife. The entire passage about how Lakshmi arose from amrit and Alakshmi from halahala – brilliant! Also the gem about how Shukracharya, guru to the Asuras, lost an eye when Vishnu descended to Earth as Vamana, the Brahmin dwarf, was a new story for me to imbibe and marvel over. The absolute crowning jewel for me was how Pattanaik beautifully explained that Luv-Kush’s victory over their father showed that dharma rests with Sita and not Ayodhya! Brilliant! As one who has always been furious over the treatment meted out to Sita in the epic, this one statement was a fist-pumping hurrah! moment. Yes, it has been explained time and again that Ram put his kingly duties above his personal needs, but that only serves to make him the Perfect King, not the Perfect Man.

The photographs of ancient artwork and temple sculptures help bring the book alive, especially with their little bubbles of explanation. Colour photography would have been greatly appreciated, of course, but that’s nitpicking. An index would also have been of great use, and I strongly suggest the publishers think of adding one in the next edition.

All in all, a great read and one I would urge all mythology buffs to immediately indulge in!

This review is a part of the http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews Book Reviews Program at http://www.blogadda.com, BlogAdda.com. Participate now to get free books!

The Things They Say

We were at MaaJanoni's a few nights back. The boys were spending the night with her while I was going out for a night on the town. MaaJanoni was busy getting them ready for bed and getting them all powdered and fresh and cosy. Suddenly, the little guy looks up at her and says, "Manuku, tumi aabaar biyey koro naa keno?" (Manuku, why don't you get married again?)

I nearly dropped my eye-liner and turned around flabbergasted. Where did he get that idea from? What would MaaJanoni have to say?

She took a few seconds to recover and said, "Keno shona? Tumi toh aachho aamaar jonnyo." (But why my darling, you're there for me.)
EO: Naa. Tumi aabaar biyey koro. (No. You get married again.)

Maa: Kintu, aami jaakei biyey kori naa keno, shey toh buro hobey. (But no matter who I marry, that person will be an old man, naa.)

EO: Tumi biyey korley, aami okey Daduku boltey paarbo. (If you get married, I can have someone to call Daduku again.)

This exchange broke my heart for a million different reasons. First of all, the mere thought of someone replacing my beloved DaddyDearest was too painful to even contemplate. Secondly, MaaJanoni with someone else...even though I know it wasn't a match made in heaven, but still...someone else? And then, was my little boy afraid of losing whatever precious few memories he had of his grandfather that he thought a replacement would make it better? Was he so replaceable in my young son's mind? Was my father already just a mere thought in his memories?

I was a very sad and lost little girl that night.

And then, a couple of nights later, at a friend's beautiful farm-house in Shanti Niketan, we had gathered for an evening of fun and barbeque. The night sky was plastered with a zillion stars and it really was the most mesmerising, meditative and tranquil sight. Suddenly, breaking my world of calm and silence was my YO's voice, full of happy excitement: "Look, look! See? That brightest star there is my Daduku."

Of course I cried. All was right with my world again.

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The other day, the MIM put on a slide show of the boys' photographs from the time the EO was four-years-old and the YO was a year old. The pictures were a melange of first day at school snaps, fancy dress snaps, picnic snaps and what-have-you. The boys giggled and squealed and recounted certain memories...their eyes shining big and bright. When it was over, my EO sagely remarked, "Oh how I miss those days!"

Oh how I laughed!

The YO then pulled at my sleeve and said he wanted to see the slide show again. I got comfy next to him and kept going 'oooh!' and 'aaaah!' and 'oh so sweet!' I finally said, "Oooof! Just look at my little babies! How sweet they were! Now they've grown sooooo big! Who will be my baby now?"

My adorable little boy just looked at me and said, "Sorry, Mamma."

I think I almost fell off the bed. I looked at him and simply (and stupidly, I might add) asked, "But why, my shona."

And he just simply and sweetly replied, "For growing up and becoming shooooo big. That'sh why."

Awwww!

Happy 5th Birthday YO!

My babyyyyyyyy!

You're now five-years-old! FIVE!! That's a big boy!

You're truly a big boy now. Over the weekend we picked up admission forms for your brother's school. Yes, this birthday also marks the end of your time at pre-school. You my baby, are now ready for big school. Early next year, I shall have two children in Big School; my days as a nursery school mommy will be over. I haven't stopped weeping since the thought first struck me!

But look at you! Look how you've grown! My sun-shiney boy, so full of love, laughter and jumping beans! And so full of naughtiness! Your pictures just shine with mirth, merriment and mischief! (thoo-thoo-thoo!)

You're an imp all right, and your most favourite thing to do in the world is somersaults. You don't know how to sit still, you don't know how to walk; you're always running, skipping, tumbling, jumping and rolling about. It is really, really tough to keep up with you! Your father is constantly on hyper mode when you're up and about, but given your penchant for climbing things and for gymnastics, it really isn't difficult to sympathise with him.

You still have that adorably charming and childish way of speaking. Your l's still have a hint of an r in them and most of your s's are sh's. Sho you shound like thish when you talk. And adorable thought it is, I have been trying to correct it for a while now since, yes, Big School is around the corner and the last thing I would want is for you to be teased. Oh, but the things you say! You want to sleep with your 'weapons' so that they can protect you; you asked your Manuku (grandmother) to get married again so that you can have another Daduku and at your brother's birthday party you sat down with a glass full of Pepsi (after clinking it with your father's friend's glass complete with a "Cheers!", mind you) and asked that you not be disturbed! The other day, you took my face in your hands and kissed me first on my cheeks, then my forehead and finally my chin. I melted at this display of tenderness and you went and added, "That's a diamond for you." If I hadn't frozen in awe, I would have probably fainted. And then of course, you love to ask me, "I am looking handsome? I am looking like a hero?" Arrey, just the other day, you were getting ready for a birthday party, you ayah dressed you up in the clothes that I had laid out and you ran in to my room, all scrubbed and ready, saying, "Mamma! Thank you for this hero-ness!" I think my jaw dropped, because I didn't say anything, so you went on and asked me, "Am I looking hero on my face?" Ooof! Too much!

I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you can actually read! It took a while coming and I have to admit, I was beginning to despair of it ever happening, but it is, it is happening and it thrills me no end! Yes, you still fumble and hesitate, but considering the struggle we had at the beginning of the year, where you are now is pretty much near the top of Mt. Everest. You may not be a bookworm like your brother yet, but there's time enough for that. You love being read to and it's a must at bedtime and that's good enough for me.

And speaking of your brother, you really are his little tail. Your personalities are so different from each others as are your looks, builds, hobbies and interests and yet you two are devoted to each other -- touch wood! Seeing the relationship you share has stirred my pot of mamta many a time, filling me with warmth and love. You are each other's biggest fans, biggest protectors and of course biggest tattle-tales -- as if that could be avoided! You repeat everything he says, often with comical results. One of the virtues of having an older sibling is that you get to see, say and do things sooner than s/he was allowed to. So while the EO was fed on a steady diet of Dora and Diego for the longest time possible, you graduated far too quickly to Transformers, Ben 10 and Beyblades. So while I am totally used to the EO and the Nephew talking about 'killing' each other when they're in the throes of an inter-galactic war (a la Star Wars), coming from you, the death-destruction-and-annihilation phrases are still quite the shocker! And when the shock wears off, yes, hilarious, because of the way you say it! Of course your biggest hero is Chhota Bheem and frequent viewings of Noddy or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse ensure that your innocence hasn't been bludgeoned to pulp by the Decepticons, so I have wearily accepted your all too enthusiastic participation in your brothers' games of mayhem and chaos.

But then again, you do have a set of manners about you, and that's wonderful. You say please, sorry, thank you and excuse me when the occasion demands and I hope this is a trait that you keep with you now and always.

Our battles with food continue; you refuse to eat it and I refuse to let you starve. Look at you my boy! You're a thin little waif! People look at us together and wonder if I starve you just to eat your share! And that's why your nicknames of Tadpole, Chingri Maach and Haar Gilley endure. Please eat, my son! And no, I'm not talking about just sweets and biscuits!

What was it you said to me after you came back from school recently? "I love you outside of the Earth and biggest than that!" Of course I added, "I love you to the sun and moon and back!" Of course you wouldn't let me have the last say; your addition was "And I love you to the entire space including the dwarf planets!"

Of course my jaw dropped.

But then with you, what else is new?

I love you my big-eyed, heart-breaker. To the sun, moon and way, waaaaaayyyyyy beyond!

Happy birthday, my little love, happy 5th birthday!

Yours,

Mamma