In a world of men

An elderly family friend with two sons was disappointed by a succession of four grandsons. She worried about who to leave her fabulous jewellery to. We made a pact that if I had a daughter, some of it would come my way. "Kaliyugathila Kai Mela Palan" my mother used to say (in kaliyug you get your desert in this life itself). One boy followed by another; I bid a mental goodbye to my share of the exotic collection.

For years, my firm belief has been that the birth of every girl is a gift to humanity, and every man will improve his life so long as he takes time to observe the women around him. God is laughing right up her sleeve I'm sure. For all I do these days is observe the three men in my life.

My little ones have a great fascination in watching what seems to me mundane activities such as changing a battery, repairing a toy or going to a car service station - and of course playing cricket. Some inbuilt mechanism begins to tick during each of these activities.

At garments stores all of them shop on one floor while a completely clueless me tries to "help" select from the mass of male attire. What can you do in a male section beyond shorts or t-shirts, trousers or shirts. Ah yes, sometimes you can wear a shirt over a t-shirt.

I can't help looking towards the girls section - at the pinks and the frills and bows and accessories - and the rows of varied clothing.

Sometimes, we are shopping for my clothes and then there is a free-for-all as the brightest colors are pulled out by the brats for my benefit. As I am usually outvoted, my wardrobe looks like a landscape in technicolor. My jewellery and cosmetics usually intrigue them. Bangles are most fascinating toys. Nothing more.

However, on the bright side,

• I don't really need to lock up my accessories or have sharing anxieties.
• They do not want to pick up hair bands, clips or other accessories.
• They can get three haircuts (and more) for the price of my one.
• Shopping for them is a speedy affair.
• When it's time to go out, it takes five minutes flat to get them ready.
• Whatever I dress in, I look great to them - no matter how badly co-ordinated.
• I can step out in house clothes, and they will tell me "you look great".
• I am the authority on females in the house.

Ah well, sometimes it is good to have only men around.

Perpetual Summer Camp

During weekends, summer or festival holidays, parents are usually faced with a tough choice - what are they going to do with the children on their hands. (Note: Give them up for adoption is not a socially acceptable choice, though sanity rules otherwise) Our situation is a little different. In a moment of weakness and utter foolishness, we were heard telling the 6-year-old in the next block, "Come home anytime you want." The word spread thick and fast among children and relieved parents alike. So it is, that on Sunday morning, 8 am the doorbell rings,

"Hi, Ram, (athithi devo bhava) how are you, how nice to see you early (have you come to take our children out to play), why don't you sit down."

Over time, that is, in the space of about 7 minutes - there is a small gathering at our house. The eldest is about twelve years old, the average age about six-and-a-half. Mentally waving goodbye to 1. peaceful breakfast, 2. peaceful lunch, 3. peaceful siesta, 4. peaceful dinner, 5. peaceful sunday, 6. peace in general - we watch the proceedings from far. It is too much to try and join them, we would like to remain in one piece (for a wonderful monday at thank-god-office)
"Uncle", said age 7, "can you help me move this sofa." We don't bother explaining that furniture is not to be moved about, stood on, eaten upon. Sometimes it's just simpler and safer to move it. Sometimes it is better to just move ourselves to a neighbour's house. We tried once, but after taking one look at the contingent that was likely to follow us, they went out - for the whole day and night, just to be on the safe side.

Age 4 is notorious for his ability to fall. It really worries us, because we managed to save the music system, television and the washing machine, but he managed to immobilize the desktop the last time he visited. His mother was most sympathetic to us. "Adi" she said, "Don't fall on anything valuable or breakable, fall little away from that." She is a right-thinking woman.

"Auntie" said age 4, "I am taking 2 more chocolates after the juice". Nobody can say that they don't make themselves at home. The only surprise was that he actually informed me this time.
Soon they adjourned to one of the bedrooms, and at one point, they played this very entertaining (no comments) game, that involved one of them getting under a sheet, and trying to scare all the others. This game played with much abandon, and raucous (i know what it means, believe me) laughter finally ended when one of them broke a tooth, another had a nasty bump and a third tore her favourite frock.
We requested them to go home (drove them out of the house) and finish their homework (chew their parents' heads for a while). Meanwhile, we sat down to what seemed like half a minute, before our home-grown brat pack started - "I am going to shoot you... yaaa" (battlecry). If only...

Thank god for mondays...

Brotherly Love

It was a bright sunny morning; the birds were chirping, the air was humming with peace, and ...

the brats were yelling. "What happened?" I ask the elder one. Thankfully, the younger, just a few months old, is yet to start talking (back) to us. "Nothing mummy." Dangerous ground, very dangerous.

We tried rephrasing the question. "What we want to know is, what wonderful thing did you do just now?" (the false smile in place. perfect). "You know mummy. I wanted to play with my brother but he is only crying."

Whew thank god, only some childish desire to bond with the brother. "That doesn't matter, we will help you two play together. What game did you want to play?"

"I was only playing throw-the-cushion and sit".

A couple of minutes later, the game is clear. The elder one rushes in full speed, with a cushion held tightly in his hands. With careful and unfailing aim, it is directed on the younger - and before the little one can figure out what clouded his vision, he has a loving elder brother sitting on his midriff.

Calm down, we tell ourselves, for he is only a child. Calm down, for this is only his way of showing bonding.

"He is too young to play this game, sweetie" (after two years, he should be sitting on your face, but why warn you now). "Play something else."

Birds chirping... etc for five minutes and then the unmistakable wails. "Now what?" Pat came the reply "Nothing mummy". Here we go again...

Giving Space

As parents, we believe in giving space to our children, letting them grow, do their own thing, learn in an environment of complete freedom.

Well, actually, we have found from life's blunt truths - we don't have a choice, really.