Top Clicks

I wish I could write this in the dockyard-stamp font that is used on notices!

Anyhow, I just wanted to draw attention to the Top Clicks section on the right-hand side of the page, just below Nino's age-tracker, and to the subject, before I change it.

We're massive fans of whales here: I believe Nino picked up his first adjective, gentle, thanks to the great giants of the sea. His first fact for show-off is also associated with them: they're the world largest animals, some as big as two buses parked one after the other.

For me, it has always been like seeing the starry sky on a cloudless night: the sheer size and beauty of it makes you and in a way, your issues, insignificant.

The first link is the incredible story of a man, who has travelled the world and spent his life, seeing, understanding and chronicling these treasures. I always thought I'd have the balls to do something like that: to not worry about money or stability and follow a dream till it soaks into the very bone of my being, and I can exorcise it. That I din't is another story, albeit adventurous in its own way :)

The second link was the result of one day's frantic googling on 'tips to make baby sleep'. Whale sounds can be beautifully soothing and eerie as well: I distinctly remember the hair on my nape standing up when I heard their distress calls to each other. They're a great way to teaching kids how animals converse as well: how they love, and ask for help and show anger or happiness.

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I've loved using the whale to explain to Nino the concept of power, and the choice of how to apply/use it. I don't know if I've gotten through to him, but I work on it regularly: it's a lesson for life.

If you're going to be talking whales with your little one, maybe you can try listening to Baby Beluga by Raffi. It's the easiest song in the world to fall in love with: and so happy.

We don't have any specific whale books: Nino has nature encyclopedias, painstakingly separated into various animal/element kingdoms by Naani, and he just keeps on looking at the whale pages and asking me to 'quantify' their size and power. You can also try Edward Lear's A Was Once An Apple Pie - The whale is the only animal in reference to whom the world 'little' is not used, and surprise, surprise, a couple of repeats later, the young ones will spot that out real quick.

I'd loved reading Moby Dick when I was a kid - I don't remember how old - but you know how Montessori believes education must be muscle memory as well as mental learning? Well, that book made the sheer size of these creatures a muscle memory for me. This way, even old age can't take it away! There are lots of abridged versions available for older kids, although, if you can, you should read it too.

We also loved Free Willy: but I will tell you we'd a few tricky patches with it. You might have to face questions on exactly why Jessie is living with an 'uncle and an aunty' instead of his 'mum and dad', and why Willy is sad in the aquarium, and what Jessie will do without Willie, his 'only friend'. Nino literally sobbed through the movie: and he remembers the oddest thing about it today: that Willy's fin was 'bent' because he was unhappy. It also helped him differentiate between fishes and mammals, and why whales can stay out of water for a bit.

If it's a 'compare' day: just 'how big' Mama - see these pictures.

And here's a free pdf on how to make an Origami whale.

I hope you have fun!

Things I Googled This Week Vol.1

You know how it is, that when you've said something really personal to a someone you're just getting to know, conversation and contact become painfully embarrassing... well something like that, so small talk to fill the shy gap...

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1) Snail and slug care in India.
Mr Sneelock has me reading up on the uses of different kind of compost, why snails need their daily calcium dose too, and the wonders of that shell he carries on his back.

2) Put pockets.
What's the opposite of pick pockets? Apparently '20 former pickpockets in London have turned over a new leaf and are now trawling tourist sites slipping money back into unsuspecting pockets' - atleast the economic crisis brought about some good.

3) B12 deficiency.
Nino might have one: he's been very fatigued lately, and has the most perplexing nerve-cramps: I thought only pregnant women or middle-agers got them. His toes just tremor apart every time he has a bath: and he's up most nights with nerve pain in his calves. Apparently drinking RO water gives your a B12 deficiency. More digging needed.

4) Merritt Malloy
Her Epitaph reminds me of my grandmum. She passed away last August.

5) River cruises on the Bramhaputra.
Beautiful, untouched and incredible. Also, unaffordable at this point in time. Still, I looked and imagined all the conversations I'd have with Nino on the cruise boats, on seeing the one-horned rhino, on waking up to fresh fish on the deck. And the pictures I'd take.

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The inspiration of the list comes from here.

Our newest family member

Meet Mr Sneelock, our mighty African snail. He (well Nino insists he is a he, although snails can be hermaphrodites) loves potatoes, moneyplant leaves, lettuce and doodhi, in that order. He's a very curious guy and makes a lot of poo for a little fella. Slightly bigger than my palm when's he out and in his form, Mr Sneelock, says Nino, loves boys who do acrobatics. He also loves to walk, sip water from his leaf-shaped private pool and pee on the walls. Plus he has 'suction cups' on his belly, just like Spiderman, adds Nino.

He's our newest family member: and perfect entertainment for too hot weekend afternoons.

Footloose Fridays - IV

I've never really wanted to relive my life: transport myself to my childhood/adolescence/teenage/college life with a sigh, saying life was much simpler then.

I've evolved several times over in my life: physically, emotionally and spiritually - and each phase has its own particular memories, good and bad, humourous and absolutely cringe-worthy. I wouldn't want to trade what I am now for what I was, neither would I want to wish away what I was because that's part of the ever-shifting puzzle called identity.

But there are times, and oh yes there are, especially when you've just read someone whose words act like a time-travel portal, when you wish, you could chuck it all away, for a few moments of footloose, flirtatious fun.

What does a time-trip mean to you? Is it a song, maybe a season, food, or an occasion? Is it someone else's present that sends you spiralling into nostalgia? Your turn to spill the secrets!

As for me, I did the jig in the bathroom to this, giving gravity a pudgy miss. Enjoy, loud, really loud, please.


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For the original Footloose Fridays, go here.

The crosses that we bear

It's been so long since I wrote here: and it seems even longer considering how much my earlier posts seem so much different to who I am these days.

How often I have thought of all of you in these past few weeks: tossing over in the night, everytime Nino said anything funny, everytime I made a memory that made life worthwhile, with all its precipices.

I'm an honest wordsmith - my words are my confession-box, and they are perfectionists when it comes to exorcising demons, those that dwell within each one of us, that push us and despair us in equal measure. It is this - this cross of truth that I will have to share if I write about it, but can't because it is not fair - that has prevented me from writing here in this space that I share with you.

All is not well: but perhaps you know it, women tend to have a sixth connection with the not-so-happy things in life. I can't show you my sorrows here: not so much because I sometimes suffer from my mother's inherited don't-wash-your-linen-in-public values, but because it is not fair, not to the one who will inevitably be crucified on this cross.

I have tried - even gone so far as to starting to write a post about other things - before giving up. I'm not a small talk woman (something that has made me hugely unpopular at the school gate mums' club!) and I can't escape this sadness that pervades my body and my soul, my words and my secretly-shed-in-the-office-bathroom tears.

Thank you for checking on me time and again, for investing time and affection, for reaching out to check if things were okay. I'm empty and battered right now - and even the deep recesses of my being are empty and bereft of things to say to you, although I want to, so badly.

And unexpectedly or perhaps as the cliches predicted, Nino continues to make me marvel at my own resilience, my survival instinct that kicks in everytime, albeit with a timing that's slightly off. He is testament to my faith that life will find me once again.

I hope I have tided over my reluctance to come here: and I hope I will now come here more often: to talk to you, to hear you and to be healed by what you have to say. Much love my dear friends, much, much love. You, every single one of you, is my thoughts. Big hug to all the babies.

Oh, the places you'll go!

The Age of Perception

Nino, to Nino's Mum, who is trying to get her son to sleep before she falls asleep in exhaustion: Where's Dad?

Nino's Mum, trying her best to keep the irritation out of her voice at the daily ritual question: At work (silent #$%&*!), baby.

Nino, very matter-of-factly: Is he poor?

Nino's Mum, caught between guffawing and concern at her son's perceptive economics: Why do you think he's poor?

Nino: Well he works hard all the time. He's working all the time. Yesterday (Nino's concept of 'when I was younger' is usually yesterday) he din't work so much.

I liked the fact that Nino thought only his dad was poor, and 'we' were not (must have been all the books I bought!), but I thought it was time to explain to him time difference and the consequences for working for an American company.

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Nino, spying Nino's Mum watching bits of some random movie on HBO in silent mode, smiling away: Are this kaka (gujarati for uncle) and kaki (gujarati for aunty) married?

Nino's Mum, wondering if her son's moral standards are her punishment for her belief in live-in relationships: No, baby, they're just friends .

Nino, after having watched the uncle and aunty in question, kiss and embrace: They're definitely husband and wife, mama.

The Age of Wisdom

Nino's Mum, walking in on Nino and his cousin, viciously caning a plastic dog-toy: NINO! Why are you hitting the dog?

Nino: He was naughty.

Nino's Mum launches into this great-big explanation how animals can't really express their pain and they're ours to look-after, much like babies.

Nino's Mum: We can't hurt babies, can we?

Nino: Why do you hit me?

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Nino and I are parked on the side of an extremely congested road, waiting for Nino's Dad to come. Honks abound, and so does guilt, I'm obviously contributing to the congestion.

Nino: When is papa going to come?

Nino's Mum: Bhagwan jaane. (A often-used Gujarati curse, that means God only knows).

Nino: What's he doing with Bhagwan?

Nino's Dad finally arrives and I rant and yell and nearly explode. Nino's Dad catches Nino's eye and grins.

Nino: Mamma must be hungry.

The Age of Gluttony

We're at this nice restaurant for a Sunday brunch along with my sister and nieces and we're oohing and aah-ing over the perfect consistency of the risotto and the melt-in-the-mouth ravioli.

Nino, making clean work of his spaghetti aglio olio: This is impeccable work.

Nino's mum, wondering where Nino picked up the adjective from: What do you mean impeccable work?

Nino: When we do good work at MM (name of school), S (teacher) says impeccable work because impeccable work makes her happy.

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Nino, pointing to the sponge-like substance inside the picture of a bone in his anatomy book: What's this?

Nino's Mum: That's bone marrow.

Nino: Like in mutton?

Nino's Mum: Yes, like in mutton.

Later that night, Nino's Mum is trying not to smack her son who is blowing, sucking and drooling on her elbow. Attached to the elbow should be the new phrase, she mutters to herself.

Nino's Mum: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Nino: Your bone marrow's very yummy, mamma.

Book-lovers beware

The scene: A beyond crowded CG Road, one of Ahmedabad's only so-called high streets, at 9:00pm on Sunday evening. Roads choc-a-block with traffic, haphazardly parked cars, commuters in Sunday slow-driving mode, benign chaos, and the like.

The characters: A hungry Nino, Nino's Mum on a mission, An irritated with traffic maneuvering Nino's Dad and a very entertained Geetaben, Nino's care-giver.

The premise: A book fair.

Ahmedabad suffers from a frightening paucity of book stores and book fairs. So when a really good book fair came along, I was not going to be one to miss it. I'd wanted to have a go at it alone, so I could pour over the books without Nino's patience wearing out or for that matter of Nino's Dad's as well. Somehow I couldn't work that out and we ended up going to the book fair, all of us together.

The unity of the Nino family however, was doomed given the timing and the various moods of the characters. So eventually I stayed at the book fair and Nino's Dad drove Nino and Geetaben to a takeaway place where they grabbed some food and decided to pick me up on the way back. Unfortunately, I wasn't done. So they parked the car and fed themselves, arguing over spilt food, traffic rules and why three-year-olds-cant-have-chewing-gum. Atleast five irritated and abrupt phone calls from Nino's Dad later, I emerged from the book fair at around 10:30pm, sweaty but grinning at the lot I'd managed to pick up for Nino.

(Nino's Mum, walking towards car, struggling with jhola, and two very heavy plastic bags, phone ringing in her butt pocket): Hi! I'm back.

Nino's Dad: (to no one in particular) She's back.

Nino's Mum: Sorry, it was just too good to be true, I picked some great books for Nino, lots of Eric Carle...

Nino (interrupting): Mama, why can't three year old's have chewing gum?

Nino's Dad (before Nino's Mum can answer her budding 20questions champ): Did you remember to take the credit card back?

Nino's Mum: Yes, of course, what do you mean, the last time was an accident. All right and then I spent....

Nino (interrupting): Why is it called chewing gum, mama, can we really eat gum?

Nino's Dad: Why don't both of you get settled so we can get going?

Nino's Mum, who is quite dejected at the lack of interest in the books she's picked up, turns to Geetaben and says, with big smile: I got lots of books Geetaben, some 80 per cent off! 14 books for Nino. Some to keep for later... some I ....

Geetaben: You din't pick up his shampoo and soap?