TGIF!TGIF! ah! So happy for the weekened! Alright where are we gonna go for this weekened? What plans do we have for the weekend? Maybe, hmmmmm, lemme think, a secret rendezvous at some pub? Or maybe shake a leg at some club? Or maybe dine at some exotic hideout?
Well, maybe one can do any one of the above in one weekend but I get this rare opportunity of doing all the above in one evening. My elder daughter drags me out of my book, “mama please come with me, please… please… please.” There is some kinda excitement in the way she says those three pleases. So I play along and walk with a feigned reluctance. She puts her tiny hands over my eyes while leading me away from the bukhari.
“Tah-dah!” and when my eyes are let free I have to set my mouth open to show surprise at the location of our weekend eatery. There are three plastic chairs neatly placed around the coffee table and their toy plates and cups adorn the table. My li’l one is mixing a wide range of toys in assortment of shapes. “what’s cooking?” I ask jovially. “Cakes, yummy chocolate cakes,strawberry cakes,” my li’l chef answers with her mouth almost watering with the thought of real chocolate cakes.
The elder one puts on the TV, Norling channel, my li’l one’s favorite.Ata Youngba’s trailer is on. Then some students of Choden school are seen dancing to the song,”dhari gawai nima.” My li’l one immediately leaves her chef’s role and starts dancing. I simply love the way she tries to copy the dance steps from the TV. The song ends but her love for dancing doesn’t. She continues dancing even when there is advertisement for Kezang driving training school. So I switch the channel and stop at Mtunes channel, Danush is singing why this kolaveri kolaveri di. I simply love this song.So I let the song play. I stand up too and move with my li’l one. My elder one loves the fact that I am dancing too. She comes up with a plan. “Mama, this is going to be a dance competition between you and Tatu, I’ll be the judge,” and she starts preparing her judge sheet with my name on one column and Tatu’s name on the other.
Endless dancing frevour starts with Tatu and me grooving to different music, from Singlem singlem to Ma da ladla to ek main aur ekk tu back to ngesem ngesem. Our judge stands when there is a song of her liking. She forgets her role and dances with us. Three of us laugh like hyenas on the roll and dance with so much of mismatch of steps that had some choreographer chanced to see us would have named a new dance form out of it.
After almost one hour of dance we decide the coffee, juice and the cakes are getting stale. So we sit and share the tasty morsel out of eachothers plate. The plate that was named as pizza turns into spaghetti suddenly and none of the three mind the change. We talk about the food like it’s really a yummilicious treat!
It way past ten PM and I coax them to get into our nightly ritual of brushing and washing which doesn’t come with easy grace. Actually even I am so much charged with energy after that dance that I feel we should continue for another hour or so. But the mother in me has to draw the line when it comes to the schedule for the kids so I reluctantly pull them into bed and then begins another session, of nursery rhymes of lullabies.
write
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Names and Roles
“Jarim du sa ,jarim dusa , who is that girl?” I sing teasing my almost three years old daughter. “A..aa…aa..” she snaps at me, “ I am Aunty!” Her toys lie sprawling all over the rug.
Well, what role she is playing at what time is an interesting guessing game I have picked these days. If she is seen with the kitchen stuff toys, she is either playing ‘mommy’ or ‘aunty’ and is miffed if we call her by any other names.
But on many occasion it’s very difficult to guess what she is playing. “Ta..tu,” I call out lovingly but there is no guarantee that she would respond with the same love in her tone, I have to be ready to hear lines such as, “ I’m not Tatu, I am Shizu ka or I’m chutki.” It depends on her mood and none else gets to choose who she is.
But she definitely won’t ever take terms such as ‘madam’ or “girl”,even when it has the prefix ‘beautiful’. When she asks me things I say,”lasla madamji,” and that sets her into a foul mood. “Mama, I am not a madam.”
Sometimes, she goes out of bound to get a role to play. I mean just two days ago we were sitting in the sun when she decided she is Jigsel, a boy from her elder sister’s class and her sister is Patuli, another boy in the class. I wonder what makes her play those roles. I can understand the characters from the television but real life characters, such as these boys leaves me spell bound.
While she plays these various roles, even the others in the house have to be ready to play the roles she confers upon us. When she is Shizu ka, her sister has to be Doreamon and I have to play Nobita’s Mom. When she is Chutki, her sister has to be Chota Bheem and I have to play Dholu while their papa gets to be Dholu’s partner Bholu. When she is mommy, her sister has to be either aunty or papa, while I always get to play her baby.
But when we put off the light and after she turns on the Dorea mon night lamp, I have to play mommy, always. “What does the sun say mommy?” she asks me. That’s my cue to start our nightly lullaby session which I always begin with,
“When the blazing sun is gone
When he nothing shines upon
Then you shine your little light
Twinkle twinkle all the night.”
And there are endless rhymes I sing in my hoarse sleepy voice, smiling at the two angels all set to step into their dream world with my tunes. Life is beautiful! Truly remarkable!
Well, what role she is playing at what time is an interesting guessing game I have picked these days. If she is seen with the kitchen stuff toys, she is either playing ‘mommy’ or ‘aunty’ and is miffed if we call her by any other names.
But on many occasion it’s very difficult to guess what she is playing. “Ta..tu,” I call out lovingly but there is no guarantee that she would respond with the same love in her tone, I have to be ready to hear lines such as, “ I’m not Tatu, I am Shizu ka or I’m chutki.” It depends on her mood and none else gets to choose who she is.
But she definitely won’t ever take terms such as ‘madam’ or “girl”,even when it has the prefix ‘beautiful’. When she asks me things I say,”lasla madamji,” and that sets her into a foul mood. “Mama, I am not a madam.”
Sometimes, she goes out of bound to get a role to play. I mean just two days ago we were sitting in the sun when she decided she is Jigsel, a boy from her elder sister’s class and her sister is Patuli, another boy in the class. I wonder what makes her play those roles. I can understand the characters from the television but real life characters, such as these boys leaves me spell bound.
While she plays these various roles, even the others in the house have to be ready to play the roles she confers upon us. When she is Shizu ka, her sister has to be Doreamon and I have to play Nobita’s Mom. When she is Chutki, her sister has to be Chota Bheem and I have to play Dholu while their papa gets to be Dholu’s partner Bholu. When she is mommy, her sister has to be either aunty or papa, while I always get to play her baby.
But when we put off the light and after she turns on the Dorea mon night lamp, I have to play mommy, always. “What does the sun say mommy?” she asks me. That’s my cue to start our nightly lullaby session which I always begin with,
“When the blazing sun is gone
When he nothing shines upon
Then you shine your little light
Twinkle twinkle all the night.”
And there are endless rhymes I sing in my hoarse sleepy voice, smiling at the two angels all set to step into their dream world with my tunes. Life is beautiful! Truly remarkable!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Ball games and Birthdays
It’s 9PM but my two busy beavers seem far away from sleepy mood. Doma and ema have never been good combination for our tummy. My poor tummy is growling and grumbling about this odd combination that I have made a continuous supply of in the last few days, I sit beside the bukhari hoping the heat to do me a big favor by pleasing my upset tummy.
The restless duo, who have been playing cricket (the bat never touching the ball and the ball bouncing off all over the place save the rims of the bat) pops in and out of the kitchen to fetch their runaway ball. On one such ordeal, my little one comes singing, ’Happy B’day to you,’ joyously. I am all ears all though I pretend to be deeply engrossed in my book fearing they might drag me in that silly ballgame.
My elder one asks, whose B’day it is and before the li’l one can answer she quickly realizes that her li’l sister’s birthday is just two months away. “What do you want for you B’day?” My elder one asks religiously.
“Cake!” pat comes the reply.
“Arrgh! Cake is always there on Birthdays! That’s for all to eat,” my grumpy elder screams with her nose crinkled.
“Everyone gonna eat my cake? I don’t get my cake?” The li’l one is almost ready to shed her tears.
“No,Tatu, mama will get the cake, what do you want ana to get for you?” she asks exasperated but adds,” A gift?” with a practiced patience.
Their conversation has made me swerve my attention fully out of my book where a 34 years old man is back to his old hometown and reclaiming his life. I see my two kids, one dressed in black and the other in red, standing near the kitchen door, their task of retrieving their ball all forgotten and now deep into serious Bday conversation.
“Tell ana, what do you want?” she coos to her li’l sister. I see the change in the tone and as expected I see her patting her li’l sister’s head which reaches her waist. My elder daughter has this peculiar style of patting her sister’s head, which translates into her role of a big sister.
“Momo,” my li’l one replies with no time lost. Knowing full well that her almost three years old sister can never conjure up a perfect wish list for her B’day, she comes with her own suggestion,” Do you want a teddy bear?”
“ong,ong,” the little one replies with no attachment whatsoever and is seen bending near the bukhari to pick up the ball. And the next instance they are back to their ball game. Birthdays all forgotten!
The restless duo, who have been playing cricket (the bat never touching the ball and the ball bouncing off all over the place save the rims of the bat) pops in and out of the kitchen to fetch their runaway ball. On one such ordeal, my little one comes singing, ’Happy B’day to you,’ joyously. I am all ears all though I pretend to be deeply engrossed in my book fearing they might drag me in that silly ballgame.
My elder one asks, whose B’day it is and before the li’l one can answer she quickly realizes that her li’l sister’s birthday is just two months away. “What do you want for you B’day?” My elder one asks religiously.
“Cake!” pat comes the reply.
“Arrgh! Cake is always there on Birthdays! That’s for all to eat,” my grumpy elder screams with her nose crinkled.
“Everyone gonna eat my cake? I don’t get my cake?” The li’l one is almost ready to shed her tears.
“No,Tatu, mama will get the cake, what do you want ana to get for you?” she asks exasperated but adds,” A gift?” with a practiced patience.
Their conversation has made me swerve my attention fully out of my book where a 34 years old man is back to his old hometown and reclaiming his life. I see my two kids, one dressed in black and the other in red, standing near the kitchen door, their task of retrieving their ball all forgotten and now deep into serious Bday conversation.
“Tell ana, what do you want?” she coos to her li’l sister. I see the change in the tone and as expected I see her patting her li’l sister’s head which reaches her waist. My elder daughter has this peculiar style of patting her sister’s head, which translates into her role of a big sister.
“Momo,” my li’l one replies with no time lost. Knowing full well that her almost three years old sister can never conjure up a perfect wish list for her B’day, she comes with her own suggestion,” Do you want a teddy bear?”
“ong,ong,” the little one replies with no attachment whatsoever and is seen bending near the bukhari to pick up the ball. And the next instance they are back to their ball game. Birthdays all forgotten!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)