"Mam...ma....," I like the long dragging 'aaaaaa' sound that my daughter puts in whenever she calls out for me. I guess even she knows this unique style she has adopted. Two of us were in our kitchen garden, weeding and marveling at the tiny saplings sprouting in our small patch of land. She called out to me, wanting to show something that had caught her eye but she suddenly realized her unique way of addressing me and said," Dema calls out 'mam...ma'( abruptly ending at the last 'a') while I say 'mam...maaaaa'" She giggled at her own absurd way of addressing me. But I see a powerful adoration in that elongated 'aaaaaaaaaaa' at the end.
Growing up in a household filled with my dad's pretty sisters robbed me of any loving pet names my mom could have thought of. My ugliness earned me the pet name 'bagarmo'(I guess that means 'ugly'). My mom and all my family members( not my dad, he never used that on me although he believed that my mom was beautiful while I was not) called me by that name. I started my journey of hating myself since my childhood, for I longed to have not just a pretty face but a pretty pet name too.
After I joined school, I met many people with different nicknames. I figured out that only those who were popular had nicknames. I longed for a nickname silently(but I didn't want people in school to call me 'bagarmo' no, no).
My wish was finally fulfilled when I reached class five. My science teacher ( maybe he was tired of teaching and wanted a break??) instead of our bones and flesh lesson, started talking about nicknames. "You see( he used this phrase frequently, actually he used that even when there was nothing for us to see), people remember you if you have an interesting nickname," I totally agreed with him and I nodded my head hoping that he would notice my enthusiasm and give me a nickname. "So, let's give nicknames to everybody in the class( we knew that everybody in the class didn't include him, he was called 'psycho' behind his back; so why would anybody give him any other nicknames?).Actually in those days none of the teachers were spared of nicknames. Students would find something or the other to make fun of the teachers.
My smile broadened more than my mouth allowed, I changed my seat with my friend who was sitting in front of me, so that I could get my nickname fast. It didn't go unnoticed,"this girl is always hopping around the class, she should be called grasshopper," our sir called out.Lo! I had my first official nickname. But I hated that name. When I wished for a nick name I was thinking of something pretty not 'grasshopper'(GROSS!).
It took me two fights in the class to stop people from calling me by that name. So in a week's time I lost my much wished for opportunity. Maybe, my friends thought I had something against nicknames(after those fights..nobody fought with that big boy I picked a fight with. Well, getting enrolled in Tae Kwon Do classes boosted my ego I guess) they never dared to give me another nickname.
I finished my primary school days and joined another school for High School. I still have not been able to figure out why I chose to sing on the stage during the freshers' nite. My voice sounds so pathetic even when I'm having a normal conversation,and I had the guts to sing in front of the whole school! Well, thanks to that gut instinct I got my second nickname, the title of the song I sang,'yuck!'would you call that a nickname. Well, my friends never called me by that name. It was only used by people to tease me( maybe, now when I look back, they were making fun of my voice quality and not the song). I never responded well to that nickname, so I lost that too in a year's time.
I changed my school after completing my ICSE. In my new school, by then I guess I was grown up and didn't want any nicknames. But there was another girl in my class who was my namesake. Unfortunately I was shorter so whenever people asked for us, they would use the gesture of tall? or short?. It pained me to see people asking for me leveling their hands to their armpit while there would be hands raised above their head, some even extended themselves on their toes to drive home the point that they were looking for the other one. Ultimately, somebody gave us the suffix 'lambu' and 'chotu'. It was kind of cute, people calling me chotu. It wasn't pretty but I found it laughably cute. So even during my NIE days, whenever I sent letters to my classmates, I would sign my name with 'chotu' attached to it.
After formally becoming a teacher and a mother of two, I lost the 'chotu' tag. But now my ordeal of hunting for a nickname or pet name has ended. I'm too old for my family to think of a pet name for me but I know I stand dangerously in the area where people would not escape nicknames. Every school I work in, I dread getting a nasty nickname from my students(Luckily I haven't earned any till date,hope so!).
However, my daughter's calling out 'mam....maaaaaa' is the sweetest sound my ears perk up to.My long wished for a pet name lovingly called is fulfilled I guess.
write
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Another Sad Happy B'day Day for me.
Dear Angie,
Can't believe you are six years old today,am I this old to mother a six year old?(kidding). Can't believe, six years have gone by since the first exulted feeling of fulfilled motherhood. Can't believe six years have gone by in complete love with my life no matter how difficult the journey has been. Can't believe six years has flashed by and it always feels like it was just yesterday, trying to drown my awkward first time mother-to-be scream in the almost life-snatching labor pains.
Sorry I sound like a conceited self-centered person with all these 'can't believes',so before I pour out any one of my 'can't believes', let me talk about you my dear. You will not miss any moments of your time when you were inside me for I've a record of every ante-natal visits to hospital and have a monthly record of our times together in a diary. But since you actually came in our world, I have been so mesmerized by your presence that I have forgotten to continue with the record keeping thing.
Dear, in every picture, in every moments you'll look back at, you will always remember me with all my love for you I know. And why wouldn't I shower you with such love, you are so adorable. Maybe I'll use today's note to tell you about how you are now at this moment.
You are in grade one now but you talk and do things as if you are in High school already. I mean you already have your own laptop (lucky you for you have good mother like me who bought that for you,haha). You chat with me whenever we are skyping, learning maths was never fun than doing it over chat, right dear? You don't like any veggies. You eat french fries for every meal and every friday you don't take lunch like other days, for you prefer eating momo in your school canteen over food packed from home. You don't like meat at all. But I wouldn't call you a vegetarian for you devour dried-fish 'like a seal' ( your dad uses this expression to describe us, dried-fish eaters). You are a big Hello- Kitty fan. Lemme see, you have Hello-Kitty clothing, Hello- Kitty bags,Hello- Kitty stationery;Hello- Kitty camera....did I forget anything??? Well, anyway I've made my point with this...you are a BIG Hello-Kitty fan.
Not to forget, your 'sharchokp- never been to school' grandma finds it difficult to get into conversation with you for you talk only in Dzongkha and English. I don't know who put this silly idea in your head that one must talk in these two languages only. I wish you would get back to your sharchokp speaking spree like the year ago. But its amazing how one and a half year in school has drastically improved your Dzongkha and English( thanks to your teachers).
Everybody adores you. You are so easy with tears. You never hit others, not even when others hit you. Your li'l sister bullies you and you allow her to bully you. You are so soft Angie. It pains me to see you getting beaten by others. There is no friend of your who may not have bullied you. I fear for you dear. I want you to be able to defend yourself. I want you to learn to fight back.
And you are getting better with your lies. How can I forget the time your li'l sister was hospitalized and you made me believe that she is sleeping in the other room while she was actually sleeping in the hospital bed. Shed this role, right now! I don't want anymore liars although you are just a liar-in-making.
You are a creative magician. Every skyping hour I can't get away without seeing one of your magic tricks. Actually you are very good at it (if you wouldn't show me the trick I wouldn't know that there is a trick behind your magic). Go on, charm me as always li'l magician.
Who can get you away from the online games. I wonder how you can play those games before I can even figure out what it is. (Hey! I'm planning to get a DS or Wii for you,that was supposed to a secret,hehe). But more than your skills at these games I love it the best when you read out aloud to me. I've listened to THREE LITTLE PIGS and TOWN MOUSE AND COUNTRY MOUSE and now I'm waiting for you to read me your other books as well.
Dear, now that your birthday is done, we all know its my turn to play the birthday girl role. So I am waiting for the gift you promised to send me, your handwritten letter with a drawing of our castle and the four of us sitting in the garden outside with clouds floating near the yellow sun.
Happy Birthday dear.Mama loves you!a ton!
Can't believe you are six years old today,am I this old to mother a six year old?(kidding). Can't believe, six years have gone by since the first exulted feeling of fulfilled motherhood. Can't believe six years have gone by in complete love with my life no matter how difficult the journey has been. Can't believe six years has flashed by and it always feels like it was just yesterday, trying to drown my awkward first time mother-to-be scream in the almost life-snatching labor pains.
Sorry I sound like a conceited self-centered person with all these 'can't believes',so before I pour out any one of my 'can't believes', let me talk about you my dear. You will not miss any moments of your time when you were inside me for I've a record of every ante-natal visits to hospital and have a monthly record of our times together in a diary. But since you actually came in our world, I have been so mesmerized by your presence that I have forgotten to continue with the record keeping thing.
Dear, in every picture, in every moments you'll look back at, you will always remember me with all my love for you I know. And why wouldn't I shower you with such love, you are so adorable. Maybe I'll use today's note to tell you about how you are now at this moment.
You are in grade one now but you talk and do things as if you are in High school already. I mean you already have your own laptop (lucky you for you have good mother like me who bought that for you,haha). You chat with me whenever we are skyping, learning maths was never fun than doing it over chat, right dear? You don't like any veggies. You eat french fries for every meal and every friday you don't take lunch like other days, for you prefer eating momo in your school canteen over food packed from home. You don't like meat at all. But I wouldn't call you a vegetarian for you devour dried-fish 'like a seal' ( your dad uses this expression to describe us, dried-fish eaters). You are a big Hello- Kitty fan. Lemme see, you have Hello-Kitty clothing, Hello- Kitty bags,Hello- Kitty stationery;Hello- Kitty camera....did I forget anything??? Well, anyway I've made my point with this...you are a BIG Hello-Kitty fan.
Not to forget, your 'sharchokp- never been to school' grandma finds it difficult to get into conversation with you for you talk only in Dzongkha and English. I don't know who put this silly idea in your head that one must talk in these two languages only. I wish you would get back to your sharchokp speaking spree like the year ago. But its amazing how one and a half year in school has drastically improved your Dzongkha and English( thanks to your teachers).
Everybody adores you. You are so easy with tears. You never hit others, not even when others hit you. Your li'l sister bullies you and you allow her to bully you. You are so soft Angie. It pains me to see you getting beaten by others. There is no friend of your who may not have bullied you. I fear for you dear. I want you to be able to defend yourself. I want you to learn to fight back.
And you are getting better with your lies. How can I forget the time your li'l sister was hospitalized and you made me believe that she is sleeping in the other room while she was actually sleeping in the hospital bed. Shed this role, right now! I don't want anymore liars although you are just a liar-in-making.
You are a creative magician. Every skyping hour I can't get away without seeing one of your magic tricks. Actually you are very good at it (if you wouldn't show me the trick I wouldn't know that there is a trick behind your magic). Go on, charm me as always li'l magician.
Who can get you away from the online games. I wonder how you can play those games before I can even figure out what it is. (Hey! I'm planning to get a DS or Wii for you,that was supposed to a secret,hehe). But more than your skills at these games I love it the best when you read out aloud to me. I've listened to THREE LITTLE PIGS and TOWN MOUSE AND COUNTRY MOUSE and now I'm waiting for you to read me your other books as well.
Dear, now that your birthday is done, we all know its my turn to play the birthday girl role. So I am waiting for the gift you promised to send me, your handwritten letter with a drawing of our castle and the four of us sitting in the garden outside with clouds floating near the yellow sun.
Happy Birthday dear.Mama loves you!a ton!
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Yet another reason why I love being a teacher.
"Madam congratulations," I typed while eating my noodles at the same time."??????" came the reply. I knew those question tags would be dancing in her head for first of all we were chatting for the first time after having departed for more than a decade and the first thing I said, actually even before a decent hi, was 'congratulations'. Well, I've that kind of nerve, I surely belong to the Ranchi clan(I mean the well-known treatment place for a special group of people there and not the place in itself) as my friends tells me.
But I didn't have to jump high to pull down her question tags,"Heard you are a Vice Principal now," I typed my explanation. "Waiiiiiii," I almost heard her say that as I sat staring at that lone response from my colleague. She had this peculiar style of saying this word, whether she was amazed, astounded, provoked or simply amused. I knew she was amused this time.
Further deep into the conversation I learnt she no longer was what I had heard she was. As she was given the opportunity for further studies in her subject she had to forego that position. Before I could hold back my outrageous comments, I typed,"I would prefer teaching over administration." I bit my tongue, I can be so unrealistically opinionated at times.
But I breathed with relief as she too shared my sentiments. While reasoning out why going in the class and dealing with students is far more better deal than sitting over a chair dealing with teachers, I received a 'Hi madam, h r u?' from a student of mine who is now in college in Bhubaneswer in India. She told me about an international festival they had in her college and they wanted a title for the entire program. She suggested 'Khetshen' which means 'striving for excellence'; her suggested name was chosen over the ones suggested by her seniors. She narrated how students from Korea, Nepal, Bangladesh,Canada, Nigeria, etc where awarded with certificates bearing the name 'Khetshen'. Later, she was asked to explain what the name meant. She began by telling them..."once upon a time( I felt like I had aged beyond all the fairy tales as she used this to refer to the time I was her teacher) I had a teacher......and she chose this name for our book which we published in our club." Her reasoning was well applauded she told me. Although I was reading it as a normal chat I could hear the claps and felt so good that she remembered me in such hour and in such manner. She went on,"I didn't win anything, they got all the trophies and certificates but I got pride for the name I suggested was there on every certificate and trophies they took with them."
I shared her pride as she went on telling me about how she thought of me and the kind of mentor I've been for her. I didn't doubt that at all. I remembered that book she was telling me about was the first newsletter we published in our school only after she left saying she had to go. (Only I know how much I had to put my fingers and poke my aged brain to remember what she had so admiringly remembered...I agreed to her using 'Once upon a time' to talk about her high school days, I'm getting old, I mean I am old....look at my memory system).
I didn't share this with the teacher-friend I was chatting with at the same time but yes! I knew with full heart that I wasn't fibbing when I was saying I love being a teacher. Like my student said," I got the pride." Like I always say, this is why I love being a teacher, you never know how you have touched somebody in some point of your life.
But I didn't have to jump high to pull down her question tags,"Heard you are a Vice Principal now," I typed my explanation. "Waiiiiiii," I almost heard her say that as I sat staring at that lone response from my colleague. She had this peculiar style of saying this word, whether she was amazed, astounded, provoked or simply amused. I knew she was amused this time.
Further deep into the conversation I learnt she no longer was what I had heard she was. As she was given the opportunity for further studies in her subject she had to forego that position. Before I could hold back my outrageous comments, I typed,"I would prefer teaching over administration." I bit my tongue, I can be so unrealistically opinionated at times.
But I breathed with relief as she too shared my sentiments. While reasoning out why going in the class and dealing with students is far more better deal than sitting over a chair dealing with teachers, I received a 'Hi madam, h r u?' from a student of mine who is now in college in Bhubaneswer in India. She told me about an international festival they had in her college and they wanted a title for the entire program. She suggested 'Khetshen' which means 'striving for excellence'; her suggested name was chosen over the ones suggested by her seniors. She narrated how students from Korea, Nepal, Bangladesh,Canada, Nigeria, etc where awarded with certificates bearing the name 'Khetshen'. Later, she was asked to explain what the name meant. She began by telling them..."once upon a time( I felt like I had aged beyond all the fairy tales as she used this to refer to the time I was her teacher) I had a teacher......and she chose this name for our book which we published in our club." Her reasoning was well applauded she told me. Although I was reading it as a normal chat I could hear the claps and felt so good that she remembered me in such hour and in such manner. She went on,"I didn't win anything, they got all the trophies and certificates but I got pride for the name I suggested was there on every certificate and trophies they took with them."
I shared her pride as she went on telling me about how she thought of me and the kind of mentor I've been for her. I didn't doubt that at all. I remembered that book she was telling me about was the first newsletter we published in our school only after she left saying she had to go. (Only I know how much I had to put my fingers and poke my aged brain to remember what she had so admiringly remembered...I agreed to her using 'Once upon a time' to talk about her high school days, I'm getting old, I mean I am old....look at my memory system).
I didn't share this with the teacher-friend I was chatting with at the same time but yes! I knew with full heart that I wasn't fibbing when I was saying I love being a teacher. Like my student said," I got the pride." Like I always say, this is why I love being a teacher, you never know how you have touched somebody in some point of your life.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Ghosts with dirty linen?
It was broad daylight outside but in the basement where I had put up, it was as dark as night could be. On Mondays all my roomates leave for work while I bury myself in either chatting in FB or reading a book. As usual, nobody was online in FB so I logged out and buried my nose in the world of Henry VIII and his numerous wives.
"Swish, swish,swish...." Was I dreaming? No, I wasn't even sleeping why would this be a dream? But what was the sound coming from the bathroom? It sounded like somebody was washing their clothes. Phew! I sighed with relief and immediately jolted back to the same fear,'nobody washes their clothes in the bathroom HERE!' My heart jumped out of my chest and it thud-thuded so loud, I couldn't hear the usual ears blasting sirens of cars plying on the highway right under my window.
I closed my eyes and tried to close my ears too but my ears couldn't be closed. The scratching sound of a brush on a fabric echoed loud enough for my heart to thud with my ears and I thought I heard the water being poured out.
I remembered my days in boarding school where the ghosts doing their laundry was a common phenomenon. Many girls claimed to have heard the sound of somebody walking towards the toilets( which were located at the end of the long line of beds) and then the usual pouring of water and scrubbing sound of a brush.
I wonder why do these ghosts was their clothes all the time? I mean do they have no other means of scaring people than washing their dirty linen?hehehe, the thought made me laugh,'dirty linen!' Ghosts have dirty linen? Maybe they tread in the darkness of the night so much that the night sheds its darkness on their clothes,huh?
Whatever, I was too scared to even try to look towards the bathroom forget about going there to check. But the thought of the darkness of the night soiling their clothes had me amused. I found myself smiling meekly at my own little joke.
Ting tong, the doorbell alarmed me and I jumped out of my skins, well, not really, but I could have done that with the sensation I felt at that sound. Had the ghost finished his work in the bathroom and wanted to ask me where to dry his clothes? Half-witted I dragged myself to the door at the second ting tong.
It was the painter my landlord had called to paint our apartment. Whew! another deep breath of relief.
"I finished my work in the bathroom and now would like to......" Before he could conclude, I laughed. Couldn't help it! I had found my ghost! I just couldn't, I mean didn't want to conceal my laughter of relief, a big relief!
"Swish, swish,swish...." Was I dreaming? No, I wasn't even sleeping why would this be a dream? But what was the sound coming from the bathroom? It sounded like somebody was washing their clothes. Phew! I sighed with relief and immediately jolted back to the same fear,'nobody washes their clothes in the bathroom HERE!' My heart jumped out of my chest and it thud-thuded so loud, I couldn't hear the usual ears blasting sirens of cars plying on the highway right under my window.
I closed my eyes and tried to close my ears too but my ears couldn't be closed. The scratching sound of a brush on a fabric echoed loud enough for my heart to thud with my ears and I thought I heard the water being poured out.
I remembered my days in boarding school where the ghosts doing their laundry was a common phenomenon. Many girls claimed to have heard the sound of somebody walking towards the toilets( which were located at the end of the long line of beds) and then the usual pouring of water and scrubbing sound of a brush.
I wonder why do these ghosts was their clothes all the time? I mean do they have no other means of scaring people than washing their dirty linen?hehehe, the thought made me laugh,'dirty linen!' Ghosts have dirty linen? Maybe they tread in the darkness of the night so much that the night sheds its darkness on their clothes,huh?
Whatever, I was too scared to even try to look towards the bathroom forget about going there to check. But the thought of the darkness of the night soiling their clothes had me amused. I found myself smiling meekly at my own little joke.
Ting tong, the doorbell alarmed me and I jumped out of my skins, well, not really, but I could have done that with the sensation I felt at that sound. Had the ghost finished his work in the bathroom and wanted to ask me where to dry his clothes? Half-witted I dragged myself to the door at the second ting tong.
It was the painter my landlord had called to paint our apartment. Whew! another deep breath of relief.
"I finished my work in the bathroom and now would like to......" Before he could conclude, I laughed. Couldn't help it! I had found my ghost! I just couldn't, I mean didn't want to conceal my laughter of relief, a big relief!
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