Erm...!

So I am singing the Bimbo song and Ri is listening to me. For those you who do not know the Bimbo song , here is a bit of it: 

Bimbo, is a little boy
Who's got a million friends
And every time he passes by
They all invite him in
He'll clap his hands
And sing and dance
And talk his baby talk
With a hole in his pants
And his knees stick out
He's just big enough to walk

Bimbo, Bimbo
Where you going to go e oh
Bimbo, Bimbo
What you going to do e oh
Bimbo, Bimbo
Does your mommy know
That your going down the road
To see a little girly oh!

It is a lovely song. You can click on the hyperlink and listen to it too.

So I am singing the song and suddenly Ri stops me.

Ri: So, ma... This boy, Bimbo, he really like girls doesn't he?

Me: Yep he does

Ri: And he does not tell his mother that he is going to meet this girls.

Me: Uh huh...

Ri: So, ma... That is not really a great thing because he should tell his mother where he is going.

Me: That is right...

Ri: So, it is wrong behaviour.

Me: (Not sure where this is going) Yes. He should have told his mother.

Ri: Hmm... And still he has a million friends!

And yet again I am stunned!

How to become rich!

Ri: Ma, I have a plan!

Me: About what, Ri?

Ri: Ma, I have a super plan to make me rich!

Me: Really? I could do with that too! Tell me?

Ri: So mama, next time my tooth falls, I will plant it.

Me: Okay. How is that going to make you rich?

Ri: Maaaa (Eye roll!) It will grow into a teeth tree.

Me: And then?

Ri: I will pluck out a tooth from the tree every day and keep it under my pillow. Every day I get money from the tooth fairy. Forever.

Me: 😲!!!

Who loves Nutella?

The crazy munchkin.

This morning at the breakfast table, Ri was licking a spoonful of Nutella after having his pancakes.

Me: Hey, Ri, do you know who else loves Nutella the way you do.

Ri: Yup, Nehru.

SSM and I both stared at each other.

Me, again: Erm. Who?

Ri: (with all his focus on the spoon) Nehru, Ma

Now this was getting really weird. So both SSM and I stopped eating stared at him for a moment. This needed further investigation.

Me: Hey, who exactly is Nehru?

Ri:(with a big sigh) Ma, Nehru, that guy in Sholay

And this was a new level of crazy even for me.

Me: What? Sholay? What was Nehru doing in Sholay"

Ri: He was Amitabh Bachchan.

And that is when it struck me. Because weird strikes the weird.

Me: Do you mean Veeru, Ri?

Ri: Ah yes, right, Veeru"

And then SSM and I had a difficult time controlling our ROFL.

SSM: But Amitabh bachhan was Jai, His friend was Veeru.

Ri: Oh. Okay.

Me: And how do you know that Veeru likes Nutella?"

Ri: Uh, Amitabh Bachhan like Nutella.

Well, really, there was no way I was going to ask for any more explanation to that.

So well, we shall just conclude that Amitabh Bachhan loves Nutella. And, maybe, Nehru loved it too. We shall never know. :|

Sigh! The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, right? Crazy runs in the family!

The light of our life

His first word was dight (light) when we drove down to Park Street five years ago on a Christmas eve. His first ever word. No mama, no baba. Dight.

He kept saying dight for then next month or two every-time he saw a light. Tube light, candle light, wedding lights, moon light, sun light... Anything that shone was gleefully pointed at and squealed - dight.  And every time he did that our face shone with light too.

Our face lights up with happiness even today when he mentions with great gusto and enthusiasm what a light year implies, and that the sun is about eight light minutes away from the earth.

May the light travel with him always, wherever he goes. Happy birthday, baby. Love you to a million light years and back. 

Aabol Taabol

Ri: I think their names should be Tinky Winky
Me: Hmmm... How about Twiddledee Twiddledum?
SSM: Maybe Goldi and Locks?
Ri and Me: Baaaaabaaaaaa!
Ri: I think Nemo and Dory
Me: Hey guys, how about Aabol and Taabol
SSM: I like that. Aabol Taabol is good
Ri: Yup, I like it too. Aabol Taabol.

And Aabol Taabol it is. :)

Three Conversations - One topic - Astronomy it is!

Ri and I are sitting at the dinner table, talking.

Ri: Mama, Mucky mucky is brown and seres is white, right?

Me: Umm, Who are these guys, some characters in a cartoon you have been watching?

Ri: (pause) (hard stare) Mama, they are the other planets in the Solar System!

Me: No, baby. Remember the Sun and the eight planets are what makes the solar system.

Ri: Na, Ma. There are five dorf planets in the solar system, Muckymucky, Seres, Eris, Pluto and Hameya. Also, Mama, It was because of Muckymucky that Pluto had to go out of the solar system.

And also there asteroids between Mars and Jupiter.

He had my attention now. This was new. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Me: Okay, let’s google it. (yeah, kick me hard for not believing him)

I googled for five dorf (turned out to be dwarf) planets, and there they were – Eris, Pluto, Haumea, Makemake, Ceres. And a proud mama I was!

That boy sure makes a wonderful teacher J <3 o:p="">

***

Another time... another conversation...

Ri: Mama, I can't wait to be an astronaut

Me: Well, That is great. Remember, you will have to study a lot to become an astronaut.

Ri: A lot of science?

Me: Yep, a whole lot of science.

Ri: As much as what Baba studies?

Me: Umm... Much more than what Baba studies.

(Pause)

Ri: As much as what Robi Dadu (Rabindranath Tagore) studied.

Me: (smiling) I guess so.

That boy sure has some parameters. :D

SSM was happy when he heard this - He said he feels 'arrived' in life if his son is placing him just below Robi Dadu. (rolls eyes)


***

And yet another time and another conversation.

Ri: Mama, I know what I want to be in life...

Me: And what is it?

Ri: A phuchka wala.

Me: That is lovely, Ri. You can be whatever you want. But I thought you wanted to be an Astronaut.

Ri: Yes.

Me: Then?

Ri: I will be an astronaut. I will go and find Pluto. I will get Pluto back into the Solar System. And then I will sell phuchkas on Pluto.

And that boy sure does have his priorities set right!

Goodnight, buttercup.

As I was putting Ri to bed tonight, after the two favorite bed time stories (Julia and buttercup, and golpoland (made up stories by me)), he said he had a few questions. And these were his questions. (No, I am not getting into the answers. This post is just about the questions.)

When you  grow up will you become an astronaut too because I would want to take you with me in my rocket to Pluto?

Why do astronauts wear helmets on the moon?

How do we breathe?

Why do we have food pipe and wind pipe?

Oxygen and carbon dioxide is funny na... What are lungs?

What is heart?

Why do we have bones?

Why do we have private parts?

Why do women have breast?

When I am 100 years and then a baby again, will I eat breast food from your tummy?

Why do we give my old clothes and half my birthday toys to other children?

Where does money come from?

And then...

Mama do you know who is my favorite best ma’am? More favourite than my school ma'am, it's you!
Love you. Goodnight.

Good night, baby.

Music

We are in the car and the music is on

Ri: Baba, play that Kali song

SSM: Which song?

Ri: Kali song.

SSM: Kali song!?

Me: (to SSM) I did not know that you had Shyama Sangeet (a genre of Bengali devotional songs dedicated to the Hindu goddess Kali) uploaded on the stereo. When did that happen?

SSM: I do not have Shyama Sangeet on the memory stick.

Me: Which Kali song Ri?

Ri: Umm, that Kali song which is on no. 30 (Yeah, he usually remembers the numbers to his favourite songs)

SSM tunes in to no. 30

And the ‘Kali’ song begins…

Masakali Masakali... Udd matakali matakali

K

***

We, as parents are pretty happy with Ri's choice in music. His current favourites are Goonja sa hai koi iktara, Babuji dheere chalna, Meet namila re mann ka and of course Masakali.

The other day he insisted on carrying the memory stick to his grandmas place so that he could listen to the songs there.

J

Some days are happy and some days are not...

 

That is how I want to remember him always-blowing happy bubbles.

Nick died. 

I reached home on Friday and saw him lying peacefully at the bottom of his jar. He had been with us for almost nine months and, while many would say that he was just a fish, I couldn’t help but cry. I will miss him. He was a good fish, a good friend. I did not want to flush him off but wanted a proper burial for him.

The next morning was spent explaining death to Ri. And when he finally did and realised that Nick will not come back, even if we show him to a doctor like he suggested, he burst into tears saying he loved Nick and he wants him back. I was happy that the kid has his heart in place.

I wrapped Nick in a newspaper and asked SSM to go am bury him. (It is nice of SSM to oblige in spite of not really wanting to) Both Ri and I bid goodbye to him and prayed for him to be happy in fishy heaven. We watched from the veranda as SSM buried him. I shouted out to SSM to put some flowers there. He looked up and did a major eye roll (He was on an eye roll spree that day. I will come to more eye roll bit later) but he is a nice man so he did offer some flowers.

I told Ri that tonight when we all sleep, Nick will become a star and be happy up in the sky. We were fine then.

We decided to spend rest of the day crafting. So I made a kandil (lantern), SSM made a phanush (sky lantern) and Ri helped us with it. He also made a sort of a cardboard man. Cute.

And I did some sewing.

So I made this.

Tell me it looks lovely.

SSM: What is it?

Me: It is a book quilt? Isn’t it nice?

SSM: Erm, yes. Nice. But what exactly is it again?

Me: Sigh! Winters are coming, the books feel cold. They need a quilt too.

SSM: *Eye roll* (See, second time in the day) You got to be kidding me, right?

A warm and happy book

Me: No, I am serious. See, doesn’t the book look warm and cosy?

SSM: *Deep breath* Will you ever stop being crazy?

Me: What? This is an awesome creation, okay? And beside keeping the book warm, it has many other advantages.

SSM: Like?

Me: Like when I want to hide from people the book that I am reading.

SSM: Okaaaay. And why would you want to do that?

Me: Because people might want to steal it

SSM: *raised eyebrows* Yes?

Me: Or because I might be reading porn or worse, Durjoy Dutta. I wouldn’t want people to know that, right?

SSM: You know you are never going to use that thing, right?

Me: YOU ARE WRONG. I am going to read every book in that quilt for the rest of my life.

SSM: *Eye roll. Again.*

Because everyone needs a quilt

Please someone tell him that EVERYONE needs a quilt!

***

I miss Nick. :(

No more bad dreams

Ri's Mama

Last night as I was getting Ri to bed, I saw him wipe his eyes… silently.

Me: What happened, baby? Are you crying?

Ri: (In a teary voice) I don’t want to sleep, Mama.

Me: Why? What’s wrong?

Ri: If I close my eyes and sleep, I will get bad dreams. I don’t like bad dreams. (He started crying)

Me: (holding him close to me, I start talking to him softly) You won’t get bad dreams babu, you have had a happy day today, right? We had so much fun and you watched you favourite movie (Wreck it Ralph)... And dreams are not real. And mama is sleeping right here, next to you. Just cuddle up to me if you feel scared. Okay.

Ri: (Not convinced) I don’t like bad dreams, Mama.

Me: Okay. Let me kiss you on your eyes now and take away all your bad dreams from you. (I kissed his eyes) and now I will give you all my happy dreams. Okay? You won’t get any more bad dreams.

Ri nodded his head and went off to sleep… within seconds.

***

But the conversation had me disturbed all night.

***

This morning when he woke up, the first thing I asked –

Me: Did you sleep well, Ri? No bad dreams right?

He grinned, shook his head and hugged me.

Ri: You really took away the bad dreams from my eyes na, Mama?

Me: I did, baby.

Ri: I will not get bad dreams again.

Me: I don’t think so. J

Ri: But, Mama, what if you get my bad dreams now?

Me: That’s okay.

Ri: (after thinking for a while) Mama, If you get my bad dreams and you feel scared, you can give them back to me.

I hugged him tight and told him that I never want him to have bad dreams again.

***

I cried a lot in the bathroom later. Here was a little boy of four who cared so much for me, loved me so much that he was willing to face something he really feared, to keep me safe.

I realised that I have spent the last few months worrying, fretting and feeling low because of people who do not give two hoots about how I feel. I have harmed myself and in turn, SSM and Ri, for people and issues that really do not matter. I have been irate and snapped at those who do wish me well.

I cried this morning because I don’t want to cry ever again for those who do not care.

I want to be happy because that is what will keep Ri happy. I want to be happy because he really wants me to be happy. I want to be happy because I want to eliminate all the bad dreams from both our lives… forever.

***

Introducing Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington aka Nearly Finless Nick

Ri and I had gone shopping together last weekend. SSM was going to pick us up on his way back from the hospital where my Mother - in - law was admitted. (She is fine now, thanks for asking)

This meant that Ri and I had ample time to shop without being hurried up. So all the shopping from the grocery list was done and more and then we went to the alley where they sell fish and meat. Apparently they also sell live fishes and there, in one of the tanks, floating in a plastic pouch with water just enough to cover him, was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington in a tiny pouch

I immediately felt sorry for him and Ri fell in love with him. So we had no option but to adopt him. After all he deserved better than that tiny pouch. See how sad he looks in there. He also seemed to have a rip in his fin. (Though the guy at the store did not agree to that bit about the rip and insisted that the fin is perfect and this is how it look, I refused to believe them.)

When SSM came to pick us up and saw Nick in the pouch his immediate reaction was - that fish is not going to live till we get home. And I said, do not call him that fish. He has got a name - call him Sir Nicolas or Nick. Though I do not think that you deserve to call him Nick. You are not on first name basis with him yet. As a reaction, SSM rolled his eyes, which Ri and I were only happy to ignore.

We also had a conversation that reminded me of this post.

At home, in the jar - Nick is as happy as he can be. He loves it there. He loves playing around the roots of the money plant there. He also goes and sits on a root that forms a loop in there. And goes around it.

See how he get into the root loop and comes out from the other side. That is his favourite play.

SSM said that fighter fishes react violently when they see their own reflection in a mirror. I told him that Nick is no usual fighter. He is a calm happy fish and that SSM should not even try to agitate him with a mirror.

But SSM being SSM, he did get a mirror and kept showing it to Nick. And. Nick. Did. Not. React. Ha!

See how happy he is and how lovely his colour is.

SSM then said that Nick is either blind or loony. And I told SSM that if there is anyone loony in this house, it is him... so he better not say a word against Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

Dreams 2015

Ri woke up crying this morning.

Me: What happened, baby? What did you dream of?

Ri: (sobbing) ekta pokkhiraj chilo school e... (There was a Pegasus in school)

Me: That's awesome. Then why are you crying?

Ri: Ma'am was showing us the pokkhiraj and then it took me and started flyingflying away.

Me: Wow. Where was it taking you?

Ri: It was bringing me home.

Me: That's nice. Why were you crying then?

Ri: Because it was flying in through the window and I got stuck while getting in.

He deserved a tight hug after that. Being stuck in the window while getting in the house with a pokkhiraj is a horrible thing after all. :(

***

So here is wishing you all a year filled with lovely dreams of pokkhirajs and unicorns, of zombies and vampires, and a whole lot of magic.

I have new guppies and they love Salman Khan.

I was at Shantiniketan last weekend.

No, that is not a big deal, because Santiniketan is the place where I lived in my past life and had a romantic encounter with a snake charmer who later strangled me with silk cord because his snakes refused to strangle me… 

Yeah, that was crap.

But I keep going to Shantiniketan because I love the place. So that really is not the big deal.

This time we also visited Lipi Di. (Now, that is a big deal.) Now, if you have visited Shantiniken and not visited Lipi Biswas, you have really missed something. So the next paragraph, I shall write a bit about her because she is a bundle of awesomeness.

Lipi Biswas's Pottery Studio (Picture taken from the internet)

Lipi Biswas is a potter who lives amongst nature. Her home is ecologically built by her and her husband, Bidyut Roy who is an artist. Lipi Di has her studio in Shantiniketan and she makes beautiful ceramic pottery. You can know more about her here and here. And next time that you are in Shantiniketan, do visit her.

So while we were at Lipi Di’s place enjoying some lovely coffee, She asked Ri if he wanted some guppies. (Guppies are tiny colourful fishes.) Before Ri could say a thing, I jumped and said, “of course he wants some guppies.” 

SSM gave me a glare almost instantly. It is amazing how instantly his reflexes work some times. It is even more amazing how I choose to ignore them. The only reaction that Ri had was – Do the guppies eat ants – which meant that he totally wanted the guppies as well.

But SSM started being difficult just then. Statements such as these started flowing out of his mouth: We have no place to keep guppies… They are in natural environment here – let them be… We already have birds… The guppies will die by the time we reach Kolkata…

Lipi di was sweet enough to say that the guppies do not need much space and they can stay easily in a jar. That was all I wanted.

I had decided by then that I may leave SSM behind but the guppies go with me. (SSM drives the car so I couldn’t possibly leave him behind as much as it was tempting at that moment)

When Lipi di left us for a moment, SSM glared back.

“Are you mad?” he asked. I wonder why he keeps asking me that all the time.

“We take the guppies or I take a billy goat from one of the villagers back home. You decide” I hissed. (I half hoped that he would agree on the billy goat)

“Are you mad?” he asked AGAIN. It is like his mantra.

“Listen, no one says no to free guppies… or free anything” I hissed again. (Wow, I have been hissing quite a bit. I am now starting to believe in the snake charmer crap I wrote in the beginning.)

“The fishes will die. How on earth do you think they will survive all the way to Kolkata?” SSM asked.

“They will be fine. I will take them to Kolkata alive.” I replied

“They need oxygen and vitamins and blue and you need to change their water regularly. It is a hassle. I know; I have had fishes.” SSM argued. (It was a one sided argument because nothing that he said in that statement made any sense to me.)

“Look, a billy goat!” I pointed out.

He replied with something that sounded like a groan confused with a grunt.

So, finally, Lipi di gave us thirteen guppies; in a tiny bottle; and they looked super happy.

Guppies in a desi daaru bottle

Ri was super happy too. We made a plan to build an ant farm in a jar to feed the fishes.

I was super happy because the guppies and Ri were happy.

SSM was the only one super upset. He should have just agreed to the billy goat offer.

SSM made a final feeble attempt. He said, “Imagine how disturbing it will be when we eat fishes as we watch the fishes”

“I agree”, I said “We should have a code word every time we mention that we want to eat fishes so that we do not cause trauma to the guppies”

SSM gave up.

The guppies enjoyed journey back to Kolkata. They seemed extra happy every time a Salman Khan song played on the car stereo. They swam like crazy then, and THAT moment created the special bond between me and the guppies.

Guppies in the car enjoying the ride and dancing to Salman Khan songs

They reached Kolkata, alive. Ha! To SSM.

I placed them in two glass jugs. I then added some money plant twig to the jar and shouted aloud loud – the plant is to give you oxygen and food, my little ones – loud enough for SSM to hear.

SSM shouted back – two more days and they will be dead. (They are still alive and kicking swimming.)

Look at them - playing 'let's strangle each other with the roots' (Okay, Now I totally believe that snake charmer strangling me, crap)

In the jar

The same evening at dinner,

Me: The dead swimmer

SSM: What?

Me: The dead swimmer – that is the code

SSM: Code for what?

Me: Code for whenever we want to eat fish, so that the guppies don’t know that we are eating fish.

SSM just walked off from the table then. I have a feeling he did not enjoy his dinner much.

***

PS: The guppies love ants.

*** Since SSM has jinxed the life of my guppies so much, I am going to use this post as one of those spam campaigns that run on social media these days. So all you need to do is leave a comment on this post to give life to the guppies. Each comment on this post will give an extended life of two months to each guppy.

I wish I could keep him in my pocket forever

‘Oh, he knows it all’ moment

SSM is sitting with the computer in front of him

Ri: Baba, are you working?

SSM: hmm.

Ri: Baba, are you emailing?

SSM: hmm.

Ri: Baba, will you email the work to me?

SSM looks up at Ri: Sure, but do you have an email id?

Ri: Yes, I do.

SSM: Aaand where would that be (looking at Ri with raised eyebrows)

Ri: on quickr.com

‘Wish we did not know him’ moment

Ri was handed a box of chocolates by our friend, Rajib on Ri’s birthday. Ri’s grandmother (Thammi) while having conversations with Ri would give him a chocolate and have one herself. This continued for a couple of days till the box was devoid of the chocolates

Ri a week later was playing downstairs when he noticed Rajib. He ran towards Rajib and immediately said, “Rajib uncle, remember the box of chocolates that you gave me, Thammi ate them all.”

Rajib and Thammi haven’t looked each other in the eye since then.

‘Hold on to that thought’ moment

I am sewing while Ri is sitting near me working on his jigsaw puzzles. Both of us are busy doing our thing.

Suddenly,

Ri: Mama, where is the car?

Mama: what car, Ri?

Ri: the car piece from this puzzle.

Mama (without looking up from the sewing): Check in the box, it must be there.

Ri: I checked. It isn’t there?

Mama (still engrossed in her sewing): check properly Ri, 'will be there.

Ri: MAMA, GAADI KOTHAY? (WHERE IS THE CAR?)

Mama (happy with the way the sewing has turned up decided to be a little filmy): Khojo, Theek kore khojo. Khujle toh khudaa o pavaa jaay. (Khojne se toh khuda bhi mil jaata hai. If you search properly you may even find God.)

Ri (after a moment): Mama.

Mama: hmm

Ri: Gaadi toh khuda noy. (Car is not God)

The ‘this kid melts my heart’ moment

I am playing monster with Ri. This game is basically where I chase Ri saying ”I am a monster. I am going to eat you up” and Ri runs away screaming. Then I catch him cuddle him up and pretend to eat him up while he giggles away to glory.

Mama: I AM A MONSTER. I AM GONNA EAT YOU UP.

Ri runs away screaming: noooooo

Mama catches him and starts pretend nibbling: NOW I EAT YOUR LEGS

Ri giggles

Mama: NOW YOUR TUMMY

Ri is hysterical now

Mama: NOW I EAT YOUR EARS

Ri is screaming and laughing

Mama: AND I EAT YOUR MOUTH

Ri suddenly stops laughing and looks at me seriously: Mama, you've eaten my mouth? How will I kiss you now?

Melts my heart!

To yell is hell!

Ri likes to sleep with his head on my breast. (I am unable to get him out of this habit and have given up for the time being.) One night when I was really tired and wanted to sleep, Ri decided on that particular night to get on with his fight with sleep and hence kept turning around on me, punching me and keeping me awake. Exasperated, I finally yelled at him pushed him off me turned my back towards him and went off to sleep. (Usually I am very patient with him but I kind of lost it that night) I have no idea when he slept; he lay on the bed silently.

Middle of the night he woke me up with an overflowed diaper. I was up and got a change of diapers and pajamas. After I changed him he hugged me tight and said, “Mama, ar bokbe na toh, amar peeche hoye ghumobe na toh?” (Mama, you won’t yell at me again, right?  You won’t turn around and sleep again?)

That statement hit me like nothing ever had. I couldn’t sleep anymore that night. I held him close to me and wept all night. I kept whispering ‘sorry’ to him as I watched him sleep peacefully.

I have been stern with Ri before for disciplining him. I have probably shouted at him a couple of times when he has been extremely stubborn, but that has been rare. But this, this was without a reason; this was out of my selfishness and this had hurt him.

I have promised myself never to yell at him unnecessarily ever again.

I am actually a very short tempered person. And when I am angry I do yell crazy. I thought I had managed to get over this but a few days back I yelled again, at SSM. He managed to ruin something which was very close to my heart. Very very close. I was livid when I saw it ruined. Furious, hurt, sad everything rolled in one I couldn’t contain my emotions and I yelled the hell out of SSM. I yelled and cried and yelled again.

I again cried all night.

Next morning I was still hurt and sad but not angry anymore. It was an accident after all. SSM didn’t mean it. It wasn’t fair. I had hurt him. I felt bad and got back to vowing to myself again that I won’t yell unnecessarily again.

Why did I write this post. Because today I got yelled at. By someone very close to me. Unnecessarily. And that hurt. Bad.

That’s all. End of post.

A little bit of Ri...

Ri – The fan

Ri on his toy telephone: Hello, How are you? I am fine?

Mama: Kar shonge kotha bolcho, Ri? (Whom are you speaking with?)

Ri: Dev (The Tollywood actor)

Mama: Dev ki tomar friend? (Is Dev a friend of yours?)

Ri: Hyaan (Yes)

Mama: Ki bollo Dev tomake? (So what did Dev have to say to you?)

Ri (thinks for a moment and sings): … Paabi na amar moto,pagla bajare. Tui amar hero, tui amar hero, tui amar hero, baki sab zerooo! (one of Dev's songs.)

***

Ri – The grandpa.

I am lying down next to Ri trying to get him to sleep. I stretch my hand to keep my phone on the shelf at the head of my bed but manage to drop it behind the bed instead.

Mama (On the phone being dropped): Oh Damn! (I try not to use wrong words in front of Ri but they do escape sometime)

Ri: Ki hoyeche, Mama. Bolo, Ki hoyeche (Mama, what happened?)

Mama: Phone pore geyeche. (The phone has fallen down)

Ri: Phele diyecho? Ki kore phele diyecho? (You dropped it? How did you manage to do that?)

Mama: Ei raakhte giye pore gelo? (It fell down as I was trying to keep it on the shelf)

Ri: Theek achche, kaal shakaale uthe ami ber kore debo. Ekhun tumi ghumo. Abar phelbe na, theek achche, nahale ami khub bokbo. (It’s okay. I will wake up in the morning and get it out for you. Now sleep. And do not drop it again else I will really scold you.)

Mama: (meekly) Sorry, Ri and thank you.

***

Ri – The know all

Ri takes out two t-shirts from the cupboard and insists on wearing them both.

Ri: Ami eta o porbo ar eta o porbo. (I will wear this and this)

Mama: Na, Ri. Nobody wears two t-shirts. Wear this – your favourite angry bird t-shirt

Ri: Na. Angry bird and Chhota Bheem t-shirt. Duto porbo. (I will wear both)

Mama: Na, Ri. Please eta poro. (wear this)

Ri: Duto porbo. Porbo. Porbo. Porbo. Porbo.

Mama: FINE. Duto poro.

(I make him wear both the t-shirts as he gives me the triumphant look.)

After a pause.

Ri: Mama, kal jano Shoma didi (Ri’s baby sitter) eshe ki bolbe? (Mama, do you know what Shoma didi will say tomorrow morning)

Mama: Ki? (What?)

Ri: Tumi bolo (You tell me)

Mama: Jani na. Tumi bolo ki bolbe Shoma didi (I don’t know. You tell me what will Shoma didi say.)

Ri (In a shrill voice imitating Shoma, and imitating her really well): Eeeeii maa. Kii koriish Ei ki, tui duto jama porechiis? (ei maa, you are wearing two t-shirts) (Translation does not give the right effect here. L)

Mama bursts out laughing.

***

Ri - The clown (this one cannot be translated)

Ri is up to some mischief being stubborn and not listening to his Thammi (grandma)

Thammi (annoyed): Ar kotha shunibi na toh, toke ar kichchu bollar nei, kichchu bolbo na.

Ri looks at Thammi for a moment and then starts singing: Ki kore toke bolbo, tui je amaar...

***

Happy 3rd Birthday, my little one.

A true horror story. (The story of my victory)

Courtesy: http://www.bitstrips.com/

Ri and I got home last night after a family dinner. SSM was not in town. Mother in law was away. It was one of those days when it was just Ri and I alone in the house. It was way past Ri’s sleep time; nearing my sleep time. Which means it was really late. Hence we both were tired.

I asked Ri to get his shoes off while I go freshen up in the bedroom. Now, in the bedroom after freshening up  as I was staring at myself in the mirror, (I like doing that at the end of the day to see how awesome I am. I rarely do that when the day begins) I thought I saw a slight movement behind me. I turned around sharply just to notice to my horror a BIG, HUGE, FAT, UGLY, ENORMOUS cockroach creeping out of the bedroom towards the living room.

With great difficulty I stifled a scream so that I do not startle Ri. (NOTHING in the universe frightens me the way cockroaches do. Nothing. Not even clowns with pink hair wig – they are a close second though.) But just then Ri started walking towards the bedroom AND he too noticed the cockroach creeping out.

Rihu screamed, “Mama, arshola (cockroach in Bengali)!” And he screamed again and again and started crying loudly. I panicked in the bedroom and started screaming as well. Amidst all the confusion, the cockroach panicked as well and turned around and got into the bedroom, towards me. So I jumped on the bed; got off from the other side and rushed out to where Ri was.

I hugged him tight and we both started shouting. We did that for what seemed like eternity and then we both then got on to the couch calming each other. We waited for a while till I realised that I needed to put up a brave front in front of Ri. I told him, “don’t worry Ri, Mama is here, I will shoo the cockroach away. You stay here; on the couch, don’t move, alright. And do not be scared if Mama screams. Mama is screaming only to scare the cockroach away, alright? He nodded his head in affirmation.

I then tiptoed towards the bedroom and peeped inside. The damned creature was right there; near the mirror; staring at me; wickedly - that look just before the attack. And... then what happened... was the mother of all horrors. THE. COCKROACH. FLEW. IT ACTUALLY FLEW. We all know that even the creepiest of horror films cannot beat a flying cockroach. I screamed for my life and ran back on to the couch dripping in perspiration.

I was glad I had prepared Ri for the screaming. He seemed very calm and asked me if I had managed to scare it away. “No,” I replied, “but we will do something about it, Ri. Don’t you worry. For tonight, though, I think we should just sleep in the other room. Let us keep the bedroom closed tonight.”

“No,” said Ri as he stared at me. “Get rid of the cockroach. We sleep in the bedroom.”

By now, Ri was pretty composed and I was freaking. I said with faked confidence, “okay, I will. don't worry, we are fine, mama is brave, mama will kill it. You stay right here.”

I picked up a can of Hit spray (Godrej has not paid me anything for this post and yet I shall say that Hit is the second best invention made by man ever, first being the seam ripper.) and walked with great stealth towards the bedroom. I could have done with some Pink Panther music in the background. I looked around in the bedroom but the beast was not in sight. A flying cockroach not in sight can be the most petrifying thing ever. You know that it is watching you from somewhere in a crude and offensive way, ready to charge when you are least expecting it. AND you can’t see it. Spine-chilling!

I closed my eyes tight; aimed the nozzle towards the mirror where I had last seen it and sprayed with all my might. I then ran out of the bedroom and waited for a while. Ri gave me a questioning look. I shook my head. He seemed dejected. I walked into the room again; shut my eyes; sprayed at another nook and ran out again. I repeated this action numerous times. The cockroach was yet not in sight.

Exhausted, I sat next to Ri on the couch. Ri asked, “what do we do now, Mama?” The kid really asks intriguing questions at times. What do we do now? WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO NOW? I was freaking out again. I took a deep breath and thought.

“I have an idea, Ri,” I said. “Let me get the moshari (mosquito net in Bengali) out. We will sleep in the moshari. That way the cockroach cannot get in”

Ri nodded his head and said, “bhaalo, bhaalo. Good idea.” (Moments like this always make me give him that quizzical look as I wonder if he is my great grandfather reincarnated.)

Again I asked him to stay put again (I have no idea why I kept doing that) and I went in to the bedroom. No sight of the cockroach. I almost jumped from the door on to the bed. (The floor was slippery from all the spray.) I poked around the bed and the pillows to ensure that it wasn't anywhere on the bed. I then got the moshari out from the box and fastened it up. I tucked it in tightly to make it totally cockroach proof. Then I got off the bed and rushed out to Ri. Kudos to the kid for having patiently sat there on the couch all this while as he amusingly observed my movement and panic.

He refused to walk back to the bedroom so I carried him and plonked him on the bed in the moshari. Running around the house I collected his night clothes (Ri's, not the cockroach's), wet towel, bottle of water, and rushed into the bed. After sponging and changing him in there I told him that I will go switch off all the lights and get back. As I was about to leave the bed, Ri pointed towards the door and shouted, “Mama, arshola”. I turned, slowly, with blood shot scared eyes and there it was near the door dragging itself out.

The creature was heavily drugged with all the spray on the floor. It tried to fly but it couldn't. My mind said, let it be, it will die any moment now.  But my heart, my heart refused to believe it. Creatures as monstrous as this could be very tough and not die easily. What if it revived itself once out of the bedroom and attacked again?  No, I couldn't let it go. It’s almost dead self had made me brave as well. This was also my chance to show Ri what a heroic mama he had.

I got out, picked up the spray that was lying by the bedside and I sprayed with all my might on the cockroach. It managed to crawl all the way into the living room under a chair and I followed it with the spray, spraying continuously. Finally it died. It upturned struggled with its legs for a while and and then became still. It stayed there under the chair. Stone dead.

I turned around, took a step towards the bedroom and then I turned back I looked at the dead cockroach with disgust, and like they do in films where the victorious hero turns around and shoots the remaining bullets at the dead villain, I pointed the can at the dead cockroach and sprayed till I emptied the can.

I walked with the Rajinikanth stride back into the bedroom, smiled at Ri, gave him a high five and said with great attitude, “Mar gaya, saala.”

Why should I care? Voice out against sec 377! (A guest post)

Seldom have I come across a writing as true as this. I couldn't stop my tears when I read it and I had to ask Arun Mirchandani to let me post this on my blog.

This is a guest post by a very dear friend, Arun Mirchandani.

READ, FEEL, LOVE and SHARE.

***

Source: Internet

I was eight years old. The year 1990. I picked up a bollywood film magazine that my mother loved reading. On the cover of 'Movie' were Govinda and Chunky Pandey. So good-looking they were, clad in denim, all rugged and masculine. My heart skipped a beat. That was the first time in my life I felt attraction. It was such a beautiful feeling. I wasn't scared. My mom had always told me to follow my heart. I thought of that feeling during that fleeting moment as natural. In no way did I feel like I was going against the order of anything. My religion, my parents, my moral science teacher - everybody told me to love, not to hate and I was doing just that. Loving. Loving myself, loving the fact that I felt the way I felt, loving life at that young age with the discovery of a new feeling every day.

My brother and I fought a lot as kids. Like most boys our age, we ended up having wrestling matches every other day. When I was eleven, we were having one of those days. Both of us screaming, wrestling each other, trying to pin the other to the floor of the bed. An older cousin who happened to be at home at the same time, walked into our room and said, 'Will the two of you stop behaving like homosexuals!' My brother and I stopped. Not because we were hurt by what our cousin had said. We were curious. We didn't know what homosexual meant. My cousin was irritated when he said what he said, the tone condescending. It was obvious to my brother and I that being a homosexual seemed like a bad thing. Since in the early 90's we didn't have access to the internet, we quickly pulled our encyclopedias and began reading up on homosexuality. We were really young and were quite clueless of what a lot of the big words being used meant. But I quickly understood that if you were attracted to the same sex as you are, you were termed homosexual. My heart sank. I quickly realised that the encyclopedia was talking about me. I liked the feeling when my heart skipped a beat, not when it sank. In a fraction of a second, I had now become aware that there was no place for me in the social construct of 'normalcy'. I was what people referred to as abnormal. From thereon began a conflict with myself that lasted right from the age of eleven till the age of eighteen.

I spent years in denial of my true sexual orientation. I thought this was a phase and it would go away. But it didn't. For some reason, I believed that god wouldn't want for me to be like this, so I prayed for it to go away. Surprisingly, god didn't listen either. All my conversations with friends revolved around how attracted I was to girls my age. I thought if I called myself a heterosexual several times aloud, maybe my heart and mind would believe it. I was wrong then too. I was so scared. I had never felt that scared my entire life, not even the time I was robbed at knife-point. The fear I felt inside soon became visible to everybody. I became an easy target for bullies at school. I was beat up and called names because my classmates knew I felt weak. I thought I deserved to be treated like that because I was different. Family just saw me as an under-confident nervous child. 'He will grow out of it,' they used to say. And what did I do? I continued putting up a facade of being happy. The truth was I wanted out - I wanted out of school, out of home, out of life. For three whole years, I spent every single day thinking of ways to kill myself. When I look back, I wonder how I kept all of that bottled up for so many years.

At 18, I finally came out to myself. Somebody said to me, 'Love yourself for who you are, that's when everybody else will start loving you.' That was the turning point in my life. I realized that homosexuality was not unnatural. I was born this way and the only choice I had now made was to be honest to myself. That was it.

Why am I narrating all of this?

A lot of my friends are parents to young kids who range in the age group of 0 months to five years. If you are a parent of young child living in India, I ask you, would you like your son or daughter to go through what I went through? When I came out to my mother at the age of 27, the first thing she said to me was, 'I feel terrible that you had to fight that entire battle on your own. I wish I knew.' My mother would have known if society didn't force me to think I was abnormal. Conceptions about what is right or wrong are unfortunately determined by society. Do you think your child will feel comfortable coming out to you in a country that calls homosexuality a crime? What I went through in my adolescence is just a small sample of what millions of gay kids around the world go through. Confusion, bullying, harassment for no fault of their own. Trust me when I say this - gay people are born gay, they do not choose to be gay.

The next time you wonder, 'how does section 377 impact you since you are not a homosexual,' remember that in a population of 1.2 billion people, if 10% of the population is gay, I could be your son, your daughter, your brother, your sister, your friend. Voice out against section 377! Give your kids the future they deserve, the choice to be who they really are!

- Arun Mirchandani 

Advocate for Responsible Programming… Advocate Breast Feeding

This post has been re-blogged from Moina and Us

***

Breast-milk is a child’s right… breastfeeding is our duty… and no it cannot be replaced with water.

Ek Mutthi Aasman on Zee TV is promulgating very wrong and mis-leading thoughts on prime time on a channel as prime as Zee TV…doctors on the serial are advising to quieten a hungry baby with water because it’s mother cannot lactate. The serial is targeted at domestic workers and the underprivileged and is carelessly portraying mal-nourishment. The reason they claim is that since the mother has had a C-sec she can't lactate, and hence they suggest IV for the baby.

Who the hell is scripting such serials???

Click here to read more

 

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My thoughts: Breastfeeding is beautiful. Breastfeeding creates a bond between the mother and the baby. A breastfed baby is a happy baby.

 

Giving water to a baby younger than six months is dangerous, it's criminal. No doctor in the current generation advises water to babies until six months of age.

 

A C-Sec mother also lactates and lactation has got nothing to do with surgery. For mothers who do not lactate there are formula feeds that are advised by the doctors.

 

IV is recommended for babies who are weak and can’t take any feed due to the weakness. In most cases they are not discharged from the hospital
 

Today, when we have Aamir khan leading the malnutrition awareness campaign, it is sad that we also have television serials like this giving out completely wrong messages and ruining the entire objective in an half hour episode.

 

A lot of people, a lot of women, believe in these stupid serials. The least the television channels/shows can do is be a little responsible. Television serials can have a huge role in creating awareness but what they are doing instead is misleading the viewers.

 

Here is a petition to protest against these television serials. Click here and sign to help the cause.