... Nino, dressed as a little brahmin, invited to a shradh feast at a relative's place, gingerly picks up a nice, ghee-dripping malpua and says, 'Can I have a regular puri, please?'
... your three-and-a-half-year-old takes a spoonful of the salad that mumma made, then runs to the table to add a dash of salt and a big squeeze of lemon to his bowl, and tucks in, wordlessly.
... your son's favourite toy is a cardboard kitchen with mud-utensils and lots and lots of Ikea ladles and stirring spoons.
... the first word your son wants to learn to write is sss-ooo-ppp.
... he can tell you that you made doodhi three days back, and that only bhindi is welcome twice a week.
... Doctor J, who's trying to keep Nino occupied while trying to find the softest part of his bum to jab, asks him what he wants to be when he grows up. I hate that question, but I think Nino is likely to say Superman. He doesn't even take a minute and says Mongilal.
Mongilal is the name of our maharaj.
3 hours ago