New Friend

Today the help ("maid" is politically incorrect I'm told) brought her 11-year-old daughter with her. Adiv was ecstatic. He welcomed her with a big grin, called her chechi (didi) and introduced her to all his toys. First the cars, then his Santa, Pooh bear, Elmo, and Lion. And when she sat down with her mother for lunch, Adiv stood by her, watching and talking. He told her about the pigeons outside the balcony, unkoo's picture on the fridge, his scooter, and his Dada (he proudly showed her Ro's picture). Once she was done, he pulled her out of the kitchen. He wanted to show her a video, but she offered to push him on his scooter. He agreed immediately. After kicking his ball for a bit, and playing on his scooter, he then lined up all his stuffed toys on the sofa. He sat beside them, and then waited for her to do the same. She was hesitant, but he urged her to sit.
"Sit Chechi", he said emphatically, pointing to the empty space beside him. When she did, he filled her arms with his toys and gave her his favorite book. She was visibly pleased, and soon they were playing some very interesting games. She was more comfortable by then, and had begun flaunting her english skills. "Sit straight", she told Adiv, while she pushed him on his scooter. Then it was her turn. "Read book", he told her, showing her the monkeys in his book. Then he gave her other little knick knacks to look at.
A very easy, uncomplicated friendship had developed between them.
I began wishing Adiv wouldn't change as he grew up. Like all children, he was oblivious to class distinction and prejudices. He saw the little girl as potential playmate. They'd played some interesting games together, and nothing else mattered. She was very young, but quite aware of the differences between our families. However, once she understood we weren't going to insult her or make her feel like less of a person, she got more comfortable. She sat on the sofa comfortably, and began enjoying herself.
The games continued, till her mother was ready to leave. Adiv wept when she left, and had to be distracted with a candle on some bread pudding. We sang "Happy Birthday" to him, after which he cut us slices and then went to sleep. Just before nodding off, he asked me if chechi would come.
"I'll tell aunty to bring her again", I promised.

Return of the Bearded Giant

It began like any other evening. All of us were busy with mundane activities, when the door bell rang. Mummy who was on the phone, motioned me to open the door. I looked out of the door-eye-viewer and ran into my bedroom immediately. Surprised I hadn't opened the door, Mummy got up and politely let in our guest; the parish priest.
Meanwhile, I was in my room putting on a tshirt for Adiv. Before the priest rang the bell, he'd been lounging around in a pair of shorts, and I didn't want the man to see him like that. I had memories of his previous visit (long time ago), when he'd lectured me on the evils of diapers. He left after he made me promise that I'd stop being lazy and throw out the diaper. I couldn't let the man know that Adiv was still in a diaper.

Excited about all the commotion, Adiv who was now wearing a tshirt that hid all signs of a diaper, ran out to greet the new guest. We imagined he'd be scared, but he seemed happy to see the priest. He merely looked up at the bearded man who towered above him and smiled. The man merely smiled at Adiv, offering no hand in friendship. A serious, strict man with definite views on what was right and wrong, he usually made an appearance only when the church needed money. He didn't mind your absence in church, as long as your money made it on time. So we assumed this visit was about money as well, and not about the people in this household.

If you know Adiv, you know he is a friendly child who loves people. He has little trouble befriending strangers, and is almost offended when they give him no attention. Last week it was the HDFC man who fell prey to his charms. What started as a discourse on the merits of an NRI account, soon became a game. Mummy had just handed around glasses of juice (Adiv also got one), when Adiv ran forward saying, "cheers". Slowly he brought out his toys and gave them to the agent who was by then quite emotional. "As a child I never got such toys", he explained. Soon he was playing with Adiv's cars and action figures. Adiv hoped the priest would be just as willing.

He began talking to the priest, to which the man who wasn't particularly amused said in malayalam, "he speaks no malayalam?"
"No. Only English", explained Pappa.
The man gave Adiv a disapproving glance.
"Oh no, that's going to be today's lecture", I feared and hid in the dining room.
Luckily, he seemed intimidated by the english-speaking two-year-old.
"OKay. Come here", he said hesitantly.
Adiv took that as a sign of friendship and told him about the phone he'd broken earlier in the evening.
"Endha?", he asked Pappa.
"Just being friendly", said Pappa, who was quite amused.
Adiv was now telling the priest, "Mimi, very naughty", and that had me in splits. Luckily, the priest still hadn't noticed me in the background.
A very interesting conversation followed.
Adiv: Adi break phone. Mimi fix phone.
Priest: Oh ok. Come on.
Adiv: Adi hand time. (pointing to a watch that had been drawn on his wrist)
Priest: (turns to Pappa to tell him about the Holy land tour)
Adiv: Adi has specs.
Priest: Okay.
Then suddenly Adiv left the room. The priest seemed relieved. However, almost immediately Adiv returned with a little bag filled with his cars. He wanted the priest to see his cars.
"Okay okay", said the priest and got up.
"Let's pray", he said.
We stood up immediately, urging Adiv to close his eyes and fold his hands. He stood up reverentially, and listened to the prayer. Once the prayer was over, the priest sprinted to the door with hurried goodbyes. Adiv who seemed surprised, began insisting on going with him. An embarassing tantrum followed, but the priest was far too nervous to even bother lecturing me. Without waiting for the lift, he hurried down the stairs. We laughed for a while!
An hour later, he called sheepishly. He'd forgotten his cap at our place, and he wanted to come collect it. Adiv who'd just finished his bath, seemed excited about seeing the priest again.
"How come he is friendly with that serious priest", asked Mummy.
"Can I try on his cap before he comes", I asked.
"No. Better not", said Mummy.
"Can I wear it and take a picture", I asked.
"Adi wear cap", urged Adiv from the background.
"Blasphemy", said Mummy and put the cap away.
Nevertheless, the day ended with the cap being returned to the man who'd accompanied the priest, and he forgot (I assume) to ask for money!

Adiv turned 2

On the 19th of Jan, Adiv turned 2. He got two parties, two cakes, numerous presents, and a week long exercise of blowing candles and cutting the same cake over and over again. Rohit was leaving the following week on a 6-week long assignment in the US, so we decided to give Adiv an early party. We didn't want an elaborate party, so we had only some of our family over. Ro's mother, sister, her family, Ro's cousin who was visiting from Hyderabad, and Ro's uncle (and Adiv's favorite grand uncle) and family were the only invitees. The day before the party, Adiv's cousins (4 girls between the ages of 17 and 5) came for a sleepover. So we began Adiv's birthday with a trip to the bowling alley. The kids had fun. While the lil ones rolled their balls and prayed nervously, Adiv merely threw his ball and pranced around excitedly, oblivious to the outcome. After two rounds each, we drove around looking for a place to eat. Mc Donalds had their shutters half open, so Rohit hurried in and came out with burgers for everyone. By the time we got home, it was late. The kids got into their night clothes, and got comfortable. The lil ones played with Adiv who was screaming excitedly. The oldest read quietly, while her sister gave me a fill of the Hyderabad gossip.

We slept late, and woke up only when the maid came in. Still sleepy, I made myself and Rohit some coffee, and milk for the kids. Breakfast was pancakes with pancake syrup, after which the kids were ready for some fun and games. While the oldest continued reading a book, her sister went with Ro pick up some rackets. The 7-yr-old encouraged Adiv to chew his breakfast, and her younger sister dealt with the eternal question that plagues all girls; "What do I wear?".

By the time everyone was fed and ready, it was 11. We went to the badminton court, where we played in pairs. In turns we even ran behind Adiv who was more keen on exploring. Ocassionally we took breaks to drink juice that I'd brought down for everyone. After some very competitive gaming, I got the kids to wash their feet. Then they were allowed to put wet their feet in the pool. Getting them home after that was quite the task. Lunch followed, and then the little ones were all tucked in bed for a nap. The older two experimented in the kitchen and made some delicious cake that we ate later. Ro and I lazed around and ordered the food for the evening. The cuisine was Tibetan, and we ordered generous portions of momos, noodles, rice, and chicken for everyone.

The kids were woken up a little later, for a trip to a nearby farm. Excited, they sang on their way to the farm. The most requested song on that trip was "We're on the way..We're on the way..on the way to Granpa's farm" (Raffi). Soon we were welcomed to the farm by its friendly, excitable, bouncy, inhabitant, a gorgeous beauty, an Irish Setter. Ro fell in love! The kids sat huddled in the car, agreeing to come out only when the dog was put in its kennel. *sigh*

Then we explored. We reminded the kids that no teasing would be tolerated. They promised to refrain from any kind of teasing and enjoyed the rabbits, ducks, guinea pigs, goats, and donkeys. The star of the evening was Nimbles, a friendly, jumpy little goat. The kids gathered some courage eventually and began feeding the animals. This outting would have lasted longer, if not for an accident. One of the girls twisted her ankle, and so we decided to head back. We got back in time for Rohit to go pick up dinner. Adiv and one of the girls went with him, while I got the others in front of the TV and began cleaning up. The table was set, the cutlery and crockery spread out, the beds re-made, and towels placed in both bathrooms. The cake had arrived a little earlier.

As the evening progressed, the guests arrived. Ro returned with the food, and Adiv got busy with his presents. The car is what got his attention. So he spent the rest of the evening driving it, while we enjoyed the drinks that Ro passed around with some crisps. Just before dinner, Adiv got to cut his cake, which he did quite happily, enjoying all the singing (and the attention). The cake was promptly removed, and returned to the table only with the dessert. With birthday 1 coming to an end, we went to sleep tired and exhausted. We spent all of Sunday sleeping as well. Adiv's grand aunt, her daughter and family came in the evening with more presents. Adiv had begun thinking life was about presents. Ro who'd developed a bad cold by then, had to postpone his trip by a few days. This meant he'd be around for Adiv's actual birthday.

On 18th night, my parents and brother (who'd just reached that morning from the US) arrived. They came in late at night with more toys for the little one. He played with his cars, wore his helmet proudly (part of a fireman's costume Ash got him), and played till late at night. Rohit was leaving on 19th night, so we decided to let Adiv miss school. He woke up to a lot of singing. He got numerous calls, to which he responded with a well practiced, "thank you"! I got busy with some baking. I made Ro some banana bread to take, and I made Adiv two simple cakes that I put together with three layers of icing. Ro and I had fun experimenting with the icing. Did we want an A or a design? We tried different designs, before settling for one. Though it didn't seem particularly neat, it was delicious. Adiv cut his second cake, and fed us all in turns. He even sang to himself, "Happy to Adi budday"

That evening Ro left, and a week later, we got to Chennai. For now, the party still hasn't ended for Adiv, as he is with grandparents who are always getting him little surprises from time to time. Life sure is good at 2.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

This year we had a quiet Christmas. I didn't bake a cake, and the day didn't begin with appam and stew. Nevertheless, the family got together at night, with everyone bringing something to the table; duck, fish, chicken, salad, bread rolls, flavored rice, and dal followed by a lemon and coconut pudding and a coffee pudding. Before this feast, we sat together, sang a few carols, watched Adiv dance to Jingle Bells, had a Bible reading, and prayed. The kids were all given presents. Adiv was most thrilled.

Adiv's Christmas began the day the stars came up in the building. He was fascinated by them. The excitement doubled, when his grand uncle showed him the picture of a Santa Claus. From then on, he only watched videos of Tantaku (Santa) and spoke about him. He thought Jingle Bells was the "coolest" song ever, and always jumped up to shake to its beat. Then on Christmas eve, we had to get the kids presents, and we landed up in a mall. As soon as we got there, we saw huge crowds gather at the atrium. That middle of the mall had been transformed into the north pole, and on a sleigh sat Santa. He smiled, posed for pictures with the kids, and gave them sweets.

"Tantakooooo, come", yelled a very excited Adiv. We immediately got him a ticket and waited his turn. When his turn came, he smilled happily and settled down on Santa's lap. When Santa brought out his sac of sweets, he put both hands in and took as many as he could. Then I took a few pictures, ignoring the Forum photographer who suggested that I pose with Santa as well. After the pictures, we picked out goodie bag from Nilgiris, and got to Landmark. We snaked our way in to find books and toys, before we suddenly spotted a dancing Santa. He danced towards kids in the store, posing for pictures and giving out presents. A few excited parents threw their frightened children towards this famished, tamil speaking Santa, just so they could get a picture. Santa obliged by smiling and holding on to the writhing child. Then Adiv ran forward, pushed away a frightened child and danced to the tunes of Jingle bells. Both Santa and Adiv danced, and Adiv got his present. Saying bye, we moved to another section in the store. Finally when the bill was being paid, we saw Santa again. Adiv ran to him blowing kisses. Santa smiled, obliged with another jig, and gave him ANOTHER present. The day had gone well. It was perfected by a pair of shades from Liliput that Adiv begged for (and got). He now zooms across rooms on his cycle, wearing these shades.

*

New Year, was more tiring. We were in Cochin for an engagement, and quite anxious about trying out the Cochin specials. Unfortunately, Ro ended up with a tummy upset, but that didn't deter little Adiv. He danced to the tunes of some popular mallu songs and the Vengaboys (remember, "I'm going to Ibiza?") and welcomed in the New year. Otherwise we pretty much spent our time with visits to family members in the city.

Now that the excitement has this holiday season as ended, Adiv is now preparing for the next big event; his 2nd birthday. So he spends a lot of time strumming his version of the Happy Birthday song on Ro's guitar, singing, "Happy to you...Adi"! Life sure is exciting when you are two!:)

The family that wasn't us

They got my attention, when the unusually tall and skinny mother with a saree draped around her sinewy frame rummaged through the contents of her bag and brought out an aging sippy cup. What was possibly handed down generations, the sippy cup bore tell tale signs of an earlier era. She placed it on the food tray, where it made futile attempts at balancing, before dropping to the ground. The father picked it up immediately and placed it firmly on the tray again. This time, the sippy cup slid to the side, and nestled itself between the tray and back of the chair in front. It was then picked up the next minute, and given to their 1-year-old who drank from it.
I was shocked, amused even. It couldn't be clean enough for a toddler. I wrapped a protective arm around my bag, that carried two clean tupperware bottles with Adiv's sterilized water. The bag also had some fruit and biscuits. I didn't want him trying out train food.
Making sure I had everything for the journey, I turned my attention to the family again. The man had just bought his young family cups of coffee. The sippy cup was emptied, and train coffee was poured into it, for the toddler to drink.
"They've given their baby coffee", I whispered into Ro's ears.
He smiled
The little one took a few joyous sips, before diverting her attention to her older brother. He was fighting with his father over a packet of Lays chips. Just then, an attender walked by with bottles of fizzy drinks. The father picked a bottle of fanta that his son pounced on. The baby began whining for it, when the sippy cup was emptied again and filled with some fanta. Adiv who is never allowed any fizzy drinks began asking for juice. Luckily I'd come armed with orange juice, and he was temperorily satisfied.
The next few hours went by peacefully. Adiv befriended a group of young boys, and they began some amusing games. The family next to us, settled down for a nap. From time to time they bought their kids samosas and vadas soaked in oil. After each snack, the toddler's face was carefully wiped with the curtain. They seemed fine, but I was sceptical. I was careful about Adiv's food. And his face cloth was always washed and ironed. However, these kids who were taking in all the train food and water that wasn't sterilized seemed hardy and well. They were even talking on their father's mobiles, something that Adiv isn't allowed, for fear of all the damage it can cause.
Just then it hit me....contrary to all the illusions I had about what a cool, easy going mom I was, I was just a very paranoid one! Anyway, till Adiv gets older, that's how it is going to be.

Cheeeese!

In Remembrance

After a very brief stint in hospital, Dada (Ro's father) passed away last week, leaving family and friends in a state of shock. He wasn't sick or bedridden. An active 68-year-old who loved to read, explore, and listen to Englebert Humperdink, he was rushed into hospital with severe chest congestion. As soon as he got to the hospital, his heart went into cardiac arrest, and he was shifted to the ICU. What followed were a series of very trying days. His heart had stopped for three minutes, and the doctors warned the family about possible brain damage. The kidneys weren't functioning properly either. Nevertheless, the family held on to every ray of hope. Prayers were said allover, and we were optimistic about his recovery. Then when he was conscious, he strengthed our faith by recognizing his family and proving the doctors wrong. He communicated with gestures, and seemed positive. Doctors were amazed at his recovery, and soon they were talking about how he'd be discharged very soon. We continued to pray. We made promises of having a huge celebration when he recovered.
Last Tuesday night, Ro called me at 3 in the morning to say that his BP dropped to 50/30. We prayed! We couldn't give up just yet. Contrary to what the doctors had feared, his brain was still alert. Now God would heal him completely. We believed He would. On Wednesday morning, the situation continued to be grim. His BP dropped further, and finally the dreaded call came. Dada was no more.
Adiv and I (with my parents) were in Bangalore then, and we took the next flight to Hyderabad. The next few days went in a daze. The funeral was the toughest, but the family pulled through. Their faith kept them going. They believed that maybe God had wanted this, though there seemed to be no logical explanation for why he'd gone so soon. They merely took solace in the fact that he hadn't suffered for too long.
His absence hit us the most in the days that followed. We wondered about how life would never be the same for his immediate family. Christmas would never be the same without his perfect lining of the cake tin with butter paper. Presents would never be the same without his skill at wrapping them. The crossword in the paper would never be filled by him again. A walker that Ro had ordered for him, would never be used by him. Ro and his sister would forever miss his quiet, strong presence.
I knew him the least, but I knew his passing would be a loss to Adiv. Adiv would never know of his intellect and simplicity. He would only hear tales of a grandfather who had all the answers, and barely remember the numerous outtings he took with him. During the funeral, I reminiced about the times I'd spent with Dada. He was a very quiet man, but we'd had a few fun conversations in the past. He didn't say a lot, but he was always very sensitive and considerate; like cheering me up with chocolates when I was the new bride, upset about leaving family to go to London.
*
A few days after the funeral, we had a beautiful memorial service for Dada. Family and friends gathered to talk about the man they all admired and loved. I got to know him so much more after this service. I wished I'd known him better. However, he'd gone, teaching us one of life's biggest lessons ; we had to appreciate every minute of what life had to offer. We could never be sure of tomorrow, so we had to live today and appreciate all those who were in our lives.
The family said their goodbyes with this very appropriate hymn..
Ever remembered
Fading away like the stars of the morning,
Losing their light in the glorious sun;
So let me steal away, gently and lovingly,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Refrain
Ever remembered, forever remembered,
Ever remembered while the years are rolling on,
Ever remembered, forever remembered,
Only remembered by what I have done.

So let my name and my place be forgotten,
Only my life-race be patiently run;
So let me pass away, peacefully, silently,
Only remembered by what I have done. Refrain

So, in the harvest, if others may gather,
Sheaves from the fields that in spring I have sown,
Who plowed or sowed matters not to the reaper -
I'm only remembered by what I have done. Refrain

Fading away like the stars of the morning,
So let my name be unhonored, unknown,
Here, or up yonder, I must be remembered,
Only remembered by what I have done. Refrain