Interruptive Ninda

It’s way past his bed-time. My little boy, who has to go to his bed at 9:30 exactly each night is bubbly and all awake.

Reason?

Well, the monsoon is here and with the bounty of showers from heaven, the water from the taps becomes a scarcity with the ‘pipes being washed away at the source’ (as my house owner claims). It’s been three days without water, so my family had the full audacity to barge uninvited to my sister’s place for dinner. And well, dinners are always a noisy affair, with lots of talk that runs way into the usual bed-time hour.

So, on our drive back home, my son had a few winks of sleep which eroded as we noisily got out of the car to back in the bed.

Let me not deviate; so, my boy is all wide-awake and I know it will take more than our normal nursery rhymes to put him to bed. So, I ask him, “Story?”

“So-ri?” (That’s his way of saying story) he grins in the dark. My eyes are drooping with sleep. But I put all my energy to tell him a story.

I begin telling him the story of “The Enormous Turnip”. As soon as I mention the Old man planting turnip seeds, he starts throwing the comforter and screaming, “Book….Book!”

Grudgingly, I get up to get that book from the pile we keep in our room. It isn’t there!

Reluctantly, I slip out of the room, knowing that I have to find that book if I’m to put him to sleep.

Luckily, I find it on Tatu’s study table. I happily dash back into the covers with the book.

“Nana (That’s what he likes calling himself) Porni!” (Nana will read) He snatches the book from me. I glare at him. He knows I’m not in a mood to play so sheepishly he returns the book to me.

“OlMan,ong? Ong?” he nudges me, kissing me, knowing that he has vexed me.

So, I begin from the Old Man planting the seeds. While I’m reading, he sees the mouse nibbling in the garden. “Mouse, Mama, Mouse!” he points in the page.

“Ong mouse,” I respond and continue with the story.

“Abhi ong?” he asks as I flip the page. His tongue cannot pronounce ‘Old Woman’, Poor Nana!

My sleep is totally gone as I try to show him how the old couple labored to get the enormous turnip out. He likes going , “Uggh!!!!Uggghhhhhh” pretending to help root out the turnip.

Then on the page where the Old Woman is asking the boy to help them, he doesn’t listen to what I’m reading. He is busy eyeing the ball in the boy’s hand. “Ball! Ong?” he asks me.

“Nana Ball khelni!” (Nana wants to play ball!) At such ghastly hour of the night! No Nana, I reason out. To get him back in the story, I ask him, “ Who is this?”

“Girl!” he answers and beams, coming back to the story mood.

We reach the page where the boy is asking the girl to help them. He points out to the shoes of the boy, which is placed on the fence. “Boy bo! Boy Bo!” (the boy is going to fall) he says. I ignore him and try to turn the page. He slips his tiny finger and returns to the page saying, “Boy…drain…bo..”

“Gewala, Boy bo ni Nana?” I agree with him. Then I finally get to the last page where the whole team is eating the turnip for tea.

“Nana, Khaneee” (Nana wants to eat too!) This boy is too much I tell you!

I quickly put down the book, switch off the reading lamp and cuddle with him, “Ssshhhhh, Nana, Sleep!” I coax him.

“Seeping?” he asks innocently.

Well, those of you who have read the post earlier than this should know what commences then! ☺

Another Night and some more Nursery Rhymes.

Sometime in 2012, I remember writing a post titled “Nights and Nursery Rhymes” and since the time I posted about the Bloggers Meet I’ve this post dancing on my mind. I better get the post out on my blog before it breaks me up with it’s break dance moves. ☺

Coming back to Nights and Nursery Rhymes, when I posted that I was a young mother of just two daughters. Much has changed in my life since that post. The biggest change- my son! Who has come in our lives bringing in the gaiety we needed much.

Before his arrival, my nightly adventure of singing nursery rhymes ( I call it adventure ‘cause for somebody with my voice quality, it is an adventure, alright?) with my daughters duo had silently progressed to nightly reading cozy up time. Thanks to all these bedtime reading, my six year old can read unaided now.

But the Nursery rhyme chanting days have returned. I do it for my sonny boy while the daughters team wait for their daily dose of reading session.

I just realized that my boy’s pick of rhymes differs from his sisters and the length is very short compared to all the night-long singing my girls made me suffer into.

My boy just needs me to tug him in his beddings and then he turns towards my side and hugs me tight. Then he says, ”Seeping?”

That’s the cue! He actually wants me to sing, “ Are you sleeping?” He waits impatiently for me to finish the “ding…ding…dong!” Excited he kisses me on the lips and sheepishly grinning at the same time asks for “Donny Donny”.

I continue, ”Johnny Johnny, Yes Papa” and smile to his act of nodding and shaking his head to the song. But the best is the last part of this song when he goes, “Ha..ka…ka..” instead of “Ha…ha…ha..” He looks so adorable with his “Ha…Ka…ka..” so I nibble on his ears and he shoves me with a nasty,”Dumpy!”

So I start the ‘Dumpy’ song. Don’t know what it is? Never heard of it? It’s Humpty Dumpty silly. Caught You!

So I sing the "Humpty Dumpty" song. When that comes to an end, he asks, "Bag su?"

Well, his infant tongue can conjure up his own connotations. " Bag su", I assume comes from "...bags full" from the "Baa..Baa...Black Sheep."

I sing that too. He is a naughty little boy, my dear boy. He climbs on me and kisses me again and again till I threaten him that I will stop singing if he doesn't stop that. He instantly drops down to his spot on the bed.

"Moo...Moo Cow!" he orders. And I sing, "Old Mac Donald had a farm....Moo..moo..here and a moo...moo..there..."

Before I complete the song, he turns to the other side and he is snoring. Isn’t that cute?

Anyway, I continue the song and sing a final round of “Are you sleeping” just before switching on the reading lamp for my eagerly waiting daughters.

A story/ Book later, they too are in their dreams and finally I pick up my book and do my share of reading for the day.

Good night!

Blogger's Meet

All 34 of the bloggers who made it to the Bloggers Meet recently have blogged about it sharing the nostalgia of having met many wonderful people. And I seem to be the only one, left behind ( nothing Unusual!). As I type this, I'm reminded of some typical speeches we make during many such occasions. Take for instance, you are attending a farewell dinner and you just go there because you are required to. Suddenly, you find everybody taking turns in giving speeches and you are the next one in line. You go all red, thousand streams of hot blood shoot to your face and you go red! But they don't spare you, you got to make that speech. Well, if smart enough, you would clear your throat as if getting the words right out of your system and then making a solemn face you utter,"When hearts are full, words fail!so Safe Journey and we'll miss you!" There! You've done it! and done it efficiently, making the person whose farewell it is shed tears of sadness.

Coming to the point, well, I just couldn't hatch an alibi line like that and sit with nothing on it. To be brutally honest,I tend to be doing nothing but sitting on things now. But I had to get this Meet talked about in my blog too ( didn't I just attend a Blogger's Meet? So to qualify as one, I ought to! )

Shucks! This is not the reason I've started typing this. I'm doing it to celebrate all the wonderful souls I met. And I can't help but put down the list of people I connected with but mind you, the chronological order in which I mention each does not in anyway reflect the order of importance I'm placing on each individual.

First one ( seriously) I need to thank Rima Reyka for nudging me out of the shell I've cocooned myself in. From Singapore she writes to me,"Will you come for the Blogger's meet if I come all the way from here?" And she is in Bhutan already! How can I not go? So I finally click "going" button on the event's page.

But then after that I see my heart in a ballroom with many tiny fluttering butterflies whistling to nervous jingles. Do I qualify to be called a blogger? I hardly write substance! and Haven't written one in ages. I scroll through the list of people who have already signed in their attendance. I see Luzee, Kuenza, Rekha, Dasho Lingi and many others. I'm tempted. Like seriously tempted like a High School girl falling in love for the first time. I've read these people's write-ups and I wanted to know them personally so that I could flaunt to people that I know people of their like.

So, I pump in the air of a blogger ( although my heart yells at me, 'No, you aint!') and walk proudly out of the car. The first person I meet is Dawa Knight. This young lad, who blogs bluntly on many issues and deserves applause for the voice he is. "Dawa?" I offer my hand, "I'm Chador." I don't wait for him to mull on "Who Chador?" for long. I simply add, "This looks like the venue for our meeting, right?" Well, this ought to tell him I'm a fellow blogger too, atleast in attendance. :)

As I climb up the stairs, I meet up with Sonam Dema and Peky Samal (Cherished journalists from Bhutan Times times- I used to read their articles and envy their writing style). I'm atleast glad that I know Sonam Dema from our childhood, so with two of my soldiers to shield my nervous heart, I walk in with a pretentious boldness.

....Then on, it's like the curtain has been raised and all I could do is wander here and there hoping to catch hold of everyone in the room. I meet Kuenza, I land up telling her my whole geography and history. I sit with Rekha and before I glide onto others or she leaves me, I tell her how I've followed her blog and upon her book reviews been hitting the book stores to buy the books. I easily connect with Ata Tshering Dorji, I hope he remembers me now though! and Dasho Lingi.

Then I open up to whole bunch of people in the room. I met Amrith Sir of DYS, who is a walking Inspiration. Two Ghalleyni's whom I pulled into my circle of relationship. Langa Tenzin and Sogyel were like two acquaintances and talking to them didn't feel like it was the first time we were meeting.

I didn't touch anyother drink than the Iced-tea I had carried to the room but I was drunk with the euphoria of meeting so many enthusiasm packed individual. Tharchen surely is such motivating force to reckon with. I feel sorry that there were still few left with whom I didn't get a chance to talk but I did smile at everybody and made a silent connection. It felt like such a familiar jaunt that I didn't flinch a bit while asking Dumcho Wangdi sir to reach me home. And Lobzang Nima, it didn't take us much effort to connect- Teachers that we are, I mean I "was". Hehe.

It was worth taking that journey to that Meet. And If you are asking me, no photographs? Well,this proves my nervousness-Ta..da! I forgot my phone in the car and my husband had driven it home after reaching me to the venue.

But next meet, I am not going to be nervous! I'm gonna be there with my phone and take a lot of pictures with the wonderful lot!


Passu and Nawang Sir are their usual, two men I always look up to.