On high vocal chords and how they too were remembered in official communiqué

If there is anything I can say with certainty about our home, it is definitely not quiet. The sounds vary – from peals of laughter that sound nearly evil, from thudding sounds that make you wonder what is happening and yells that make your insides curl. The credit, nearly entirely goes to our two brats (of course I meant our two sons, hmph!)

My attitude towards them varies from indulgent deafness to exasperated scolding. The latter makes them gleefully prance around the homestead, assuming I am joining in their primeval pranks. By the time I get them to understand that I am trying to stop them, not join them, I am already hoarse, dizzy and incapable of any sane activity of any kind.

Amidst this zoo-like feel are the dreaded phone calls, especially official ones that I take, very reluctantly at home. Knowing the residential milieu and the normal decibel levels at the home quarters, I plead a variety of reasons (not to be quoted, huh?) from fatigue, to having a platoon of guests over, to discharging batteries and damaged ears. Ah, well, it is all to protect you, dear callers, so if you still didn’t get it, I really can’t be held responsible for what follows.

The conversations start politely enough. At the first background noise, there is a pause at the other end, wondering. I speak nonchalantly, hoping they would imagine noises in their ears. The next sound – with increased volume – is a little more difficult to ignore. I speak louder – blame it on some noise in the network and try to continue. We are discussing a critical point and when I am giving deep thought to provide some profound insight or other, comes a horrific shriek. It is not possible to ignore or pretend these noises don’t exist any more, unless I want to plead “unsound mind”. Giggling girlishly (ugh) I call out to the boys, “Hello dears, I am getting disturbed by your sound” apologize and try to continue with the call. 

“As I was saying, the incomprehensible aspect of this entire state of affairs poses several poignant questions for which our endeavours must be to identify...” what they would identify I had no clue and the caller had no chance of finding out either when a series of recurring noises halted any further pretence at conversation.

The caller’s mystique turned into undisguised awe, “How do you manage.... blah blah...” who-can-shout-louder game’s deafening noises in the background, drowned the rest of the compliments (Ya, ya, this is my version, right, so I get to imply compliments here). Just then the train of loud sounds entered the room and began to revolve around me, each trying to catch the other while they pretended I was a pillar. A string of expletives were left unarticulated as I spluttered, hemmed, hawed and did anything by provide poignant inputs on professional matters.

The caller resigned, postponing the discussion for saner moments but not before hastily adding a few words of encouragement and sympathy. I would have happily listened to more such sympathetic words in this manner, were it not for the two plummeting punks who nearly rammed the breath right out of me. While I hung up, gasping my thanks, I knew yet another caller was crossed off my list of official callers while at home. 

I start on a dressing-down session – to the audience of two that seems more amused and confused than repentant. “Why don’t you join the game with us as well, mummy? It is such a nice game with many noisy adventures.”  Before I could draw a second breath, the phone rang again.

I place a finger on my lips gesturing silence to the little brats as I pick up the call. They decide merrily that this is the signal for yet another new game. Ah well, welcome dear caller to my ear-deafening insights!

If there is one bright (please note, I say Bright, not Silent) spot in this whole scheme of things, it is that the numbers of official calls dwindle by the day. When I finally left that organization – I actually got a thank you letter that included my children and mentioning their “active participation” and contribution to my work! 

Who said work and children don’t mix? In my life they actually do, in a heady, noisy, ear-splitting fashion with two young boys playing musical chaos on the dais! 

Our "Anything Holder"

Take it that like the BC and AD bit, there is always the pre-kids and post-kids phase in a couple's life. The simplest of activities that seemed an integral part of being "a couple" are usually relegated to the back seat, for another time as the more routine aspects of parenting take centre-stage. Of course, that we are the "responsible" adults trying to make the "right" decisions for children is in itself such a scary thought, that sometimes you go into complete freeze with just the enormity of what you are entrusted with.

Wry humour jokes about couples though, continue to prevail. After listening to a talk in school, Aniruddh, then about 6 years or so, asked us all about "Valentine's Day". We smirked typically and then gave him some polite background about what the fuss was all about. The eager questions continued for a while, about gifting, about what it meant, about the L word that made him giggle etc so much that we started feeling the mush climbing up our throat after all those explanations!

The questions ceased for a while but there was some scrambling and whispering and secrecy in between. Wondering what Aniruddh was upto I came upon him fetching and carrying pencils, colours, tape and various assortments of stationery. Nothing excites a parent more than a child working quietly and without turning the place upside down for a little while. Peaceful it is, but usually to a practiced parent, peace and quiet also means the calm before a storm.

"It's a secret mommy" he said when I tried to get an idea of what he was upto. Of course, now I was on pins expecting a real storm! Fumbling with sudden guests while trying to keep an eye on him, I heaved a sigh when the guests left (I am sure they did too, distracted and jumpy as I was!)

Now come on, can you tell momma the secret?

"Please mommy, not yet" and I kept twiddling. Finally, it was out. An old shoe box, covered with coloured paper and little drawings showed a happy couple hand-in-hand and of course a sun in the background. "Happy Valentine's Day" said the shoe box - transformed with love and a lot of hard work. "Mommy, this is for both of you. You can put whatever you like and want to keep safe into this. I have named it "The Anything Holder".

Truly it was a picture-perfect-parent moment. I poured love and affection all over him while he was more interested in explaining its uses to make me actually use it.

We started using it right away and always found the Anything Holder actually handy and useful. Of course what always drew us towards it was the love of little hands that went into creating the gift. Over time Aniruddh forgot about the "Anything Holder" as he moved on to other more interesting or time-consuming things such as his friends, cricket, the pesky girls in his class, how to safeguard his independence, you get the drift..

The Anything Holder, however, stays in its little corner, remaining precious for us. In bright red, his favourite colour and always ready to receive, it has become in fact, for us, a reminder of the fact that whether it is the pre or post-kids phase, it is always good to find the time to share, care and remind each other of special days the way we were reminded on that Valentine's Day.

It was much better, than any explanation we could have ever given them. It showed us how kids can help experience this bond in such a touching manner.  The Anything Holder in fact became our Everything Holder - a symbol of togetherness in the family - brought home to us, through the efforts of two little hands and one loving little heart.