Friendly neighbourhood

We have three neighbours on our floor. Two of the families comprise elderly couples. They normally bear with the twins pretty well and always have a nice word to offer as we bump into them many times a day.

It is perpetual struggle to rein in the kids from what they consider their birthright.. ringing their door bells, parking cycles at their doorsteps and bumping, by design, into their carefully cultivated potted plants.
On Diwali day the aunties very painstakingly made pretty rangolis. Too old to squat, they sat on stools for ages etching out their designs. Now Hrit has a thing for spoiling rangolis. Each time he sees one he gets an itch to put an end to all prettiness. I really don’t know why nor do I know how to rid him of his yearning. In any case I guarded the rangolis with my life, threatening Hrit of undreamt of repercussions should he as much as go near them. He stayed away for two whole days and watched. It was a week since their holidays started and they were already getting restless. By Sunday evening he’d had enough. I was not too well and my tight hold on his reins slackened. And he gave in to temptation. Then he came and confessed, “I did skating on the rangolis.. but Naisha did it too.” As if that made it any better.
I lost it.. really really lost it. I told him go tell the aunties and ’fess. He agreed most enthusiatically with total lack of remorse, rang the bell and apologised with fingers in his ears. That, BTW, is a Hrit oddity. He doesn’t hold his ears but plugs his ears while apologising. The aunties were superbly sweet.
Then I did what I always do — had a chat with him. The aunties had taken so much trouble to make the rangolis. How would you feel if someone spoilt what you’d made.. etc etc. I hope it’s registering in some remote corner of his brain.
Then there’s the third neighbour. They have two daughters – a six-year-old and a one-year-old. Hrit treats the younger one with extreme care. He even went to the extent of offering her his gada. He’s terribly curious about her and drives the mother up the wall with his continuous questions. His equation with the older one is rather strange. He fights with her almost as much as he does with Naisha and he misses her as much too. She and Naisha play their girly games for ages while Hrit does what he does best at home — disrupt their games. Today when Hrit went to join the girls they refused to include him. A miffed Hrit walked away. After some time I get a frantic call from Naisha on the intercom.. “Mama Hrit has locked us from outside.” Apparently he bolted the door and peacefully came home.
Are we in danger of being blacklisted?

Boys and girls

Raising a boy and a girl together is interesting, to say the least. All these years the twins have been almost inseparable, joining in each others games even if one was a bit reluctant. Naisha’s no tomboy yet she does enjoy football and ‘bat ball’. Hrit, though reluctant, joined in celebrating Shanti’s birthday with gusto.
Now however the differences are becoming pronounced and they’re not sure how to handle the situation. Last evening when we came down to play there were a host of girls, 6 to 4 years old, playing together and they asked Naisha, just Naisha, to join in, categorically saying, “Aunty please, no boys.”
Naisha happily went off with them and I took Hrit to the swings. Fortunately he met another boy and they launched off with their beyblades. However, every five minutes or so Naisha would come running to check on Hrit and every few minutes he’d say..”Mama may I go play with the girls?” I tried to distract him because the other girls didn’t want him around. Finally the other boy also gave up the beyblade and they ran off to the girls.
When I reached there huffing and puffing I found the girls shrieking and running around with the boys following them kicking and punching in the air. “Don’t run after the girls, Hrit,” I yelled till I saw the girls were actually enjoying the whole thing. The one who’d asked me to keep Hrit away clarified, “Aunty they can play with us. We are all princesses, they can be monsters and chase us.”
With that I had to be satisfied.. at least they were all having fun together.. so what if the son was a monster?
Afterthought: I can see myself some 15 years hence telling my son, “Don’t run after the girls” while the girls will be having just as much fun as him. I do hope I accept all of that with as much equanimity as I did this time. Just as I dismissed this as part of growing up, hope I can do it then too. My sister’s sniggering, already.

King of Geekdom

Picture courtesy Google pics

It’s official. The son is set to rule geekdom. I’d suspected all was not well with his eyes for almost a month now. I’d find him frowning at the telly or watching it sideways. However, I dismissed it as another one of his vagaries. Taking him to the doc just wasn’t priority, what with the over load of work after the maid absconded. Finally, a few days back we visited the ophthalmologist. And sure enough… specs it is!

He has cylindrical power caused by the cornea changing shape from round to spoon due to eyelid pressure. Whew! He’s just four and a half.. was my first thought. How will he handle it in school, in the bus, during play? Then came the worry ‘What if the other boys bother him? How will he handle it?’

The optimist in me (normally in hiding) showed up for a change. One, lots of kids wear specs and handle them wonderfully. On the teasing issue .. well he’s just too small.. other kids might treat the whole thing as a great novelty factor. Even as I say that my fingers are crossed. The only thing I should really worry about is the constant nagging I’ll have to do.. but then (thus spoke Ms Optimist), I anyway need to nag him for a hundred things.. what’s hundred one?

Selling the idea
The tough part was selling the idea to him. “Not everyone gets glasses, it’s ‘special’ (Ah the magic of that word!)”, “It’s a very grown up thing, Papa wears them and so does Mama”.
Such are my marketing skills that not only was he sold on the idea.. his sister was too. She got majorly envious and went into thoughtful mode then pronounced, “From now I’m also going to watch the telly from close, so I get specs too.” Kill a monster give birth to another one. The irony of two .

The test
I’ve had specs for nearly two decades and never did I give the eye test a thought. With Hrit however it was quite a test.. a test of patience for the doctor. He’s often such a good boy but when he really needs to be good.. he just won’t. Remember the photo shoot ? At the docs he refused to sit still, refused to look where she asked him to and kept blinking when she tried to test him with the comp. When she asked him to read the alphabets he deigned to read one or two and then launched off into a musical rendition of ABCD…
The doc gave up after a while and allotted him a number by tempering the computer reading.

The fitting
The fitting of specs was another issue. First we couldn’t find the right size.. they kept slipping off his nose. “His nose is too flat,” said the frustrated optometirist. Well well well… so the Japanese don’t wear specs, protested I silently, taking umbrage at this insult of the flat-nose heirloom my genes had passed onto my son. Finally we found the right size and Hrit, who’d sat through the trials patiently and become quite adept at them, shook his head vigorously, looked up and down and jumped over and over again.. “Look mama they aren’t slipping”, said he happily. “Can we please now take them home?” Not yet, said I to his total disappointment. I tried to explain the process of making the lens … then gave up. The lady said it would take three days and Hrit was ready to wait it out right their at Vision Express.

Another day to go before we finally get the specs. I so hope Hrit’s enthusiasm remains and Naisha’s dampens.

Getting artsy craftsy

I’d actually been meaning to do this post on kid crafts for Diwali. I’d written part of it too then just felt too lazy and gave it up. Thanks to Mindfulmeanderer  here I am doing it finally. Thanks Shruti for the push.

Designer Diyas

What we need: Plain diyas (they come at a rupee a piece), Acrylic paints, Rangeela glitter tubes.
What we did: We began with washing off the diyas so they absorb less paint. Then I got the kids to paint them.. you’ll see a lot of blues because my son was the more enthusiastic one! Then we did some simple designs with the glitter tubes. The nozzles are quite kid friendly but I did lend a hand.

We also did some diyas with sequins. The kids used toothpicks to apply fevicol and then stuck on the sequins. Kept them busy for hours while I got my cleaning done.

 

Diya streamers
What we need: Sheets of plain white paper, Oil pastels or water colours, Rangeela glitter tubes, Gota/ribbon
What we did: I drew a simple diya then cut it out. (I folded the paper over before cutting it out so I got multiple cutouts in one go). Then I got the kids to colour/paint them. Oil pastels work better than regular crayons. Then we outlined them with the glitter tubes and left them to dry. Finally, we punched holes and strung them out on the gota or ribbon.

Diwali cards

What we need: Paper, Oil pastels
What we did: I drew simple designs.. diyas, flowers, stars … sometimes I threw in a basic border and got them to colour it. Simple.

All for an authentic Maharashtrian thali

My BIL has a penchant for all things authentically Maharashtrian while the husband and I have a liking for all things culinary (provided of course I’m not doing the cooking). When the BIL offered to take us all out for lunch at an old-time thali joint we happily agreed. On a Sunday afternoon we set out … seven of us, the twins and my niece included, to a place called Durvankur in the old city.
Pic courtesy Google images
We were taken aback at the crowd waiting outside.. it was like a wedding reception.. There were over fifty people dressed in all their finery waiting around chatting in groups. It seemed like we’d chosen the wrong day for our foray in the city – it was Bhai Duj plus Padwa and the entire city was out for lunch.
The husband and the BIL were undaunted. “This is normal.. the place is always crowded,” said they elbowing their way into the joint while the SIL and I waited outside with the kids in order to spare the other diners.
“10 minutes,” said the maitre d. The men waited patiently while the SIL and I struggled to lighten up a grumpy Hrit. (As always the one-child-happy-one-cranky rule applied) After about 15 minutes the two men came out with the husband in a bad temper.
Apparently their turn had come and the maitre d allotted them the table then asked where the rest of the ‘party’ was. The H explained they were waiting outside. That didn’t go down well with the maitre d. Apparently, we ALL were expected to be waiting right at the table ready to jump on our chairs at his bidding. He promptly allotted the table to another family and extended our wait.
So much for Puneri hospitality! A rude maitre d is such a total turn off. He wouldn’t have been bothered though, what with the kind of crowds the joint was drawing. I guess some would take it in their stride, however brought up in the nawabi culture where people are polite to you even while shooting you in the head, rudeness is just not our cup of tea.
The H walked off in a huff and we all followed with the howling kids who were getting hungrier by the minute. I had a good mind to let loose the kids in the restaurant and watch the maitre d handle that. He had no idea of the mayhem they are capable of in crowded places with no aisle space and busy waiters walking around with food.
Anyway, we then went from joint to joint only to find all places choc-a-bloc with hungry people. We finally caught lunch at about 3 pm that day.
I wasn’t however able to get the thali thought out of my head. Last Sunday the SIL and I found ourselves making our way to the old city again for some shopping. By the time we winded up it was past lunch time. It really is rare that we find ourselves minus kids and husbands footloose and fancy free. My thali longing took us back to the same joint again.
The first floor has the kitchens and we got a gilmpse of the huge cooking utensils. However, it was the second floor where we were headed. This time round we were prepared for the rudeness. The maitre d however was more business like than rude. “Two people?” he asked and then pointed us to a seat right away. How’s that for luck!
We dodged rushing waiters and closely-laid out tables to our place. Even before we could take our seats thalis and bowls were planted before us. A waiter threw (Yes threw) napkins in our plates and disappeared before we could see where he came from. Then came the food… two gravy veggies, dahi vadas, potato bhaji, bhajias, dhokla, chips, jalebis and the crowning glory Sitaphal rabadi. Add to that a selection of five or six pickles and chutneys plus a huge bowl of koshimbir (a cool cucumber concoction with curd and groundnuts with a dash of salt and sugar….ideal on a hot afternoon). Mmmmmm…. There were puris and rotis to choose from plus a choice of rice served with a dash of ghee.
Ambience and frills there were none but the food was well worth the trouble. The Sitaphal rabadi alone was sweet enough to wash off last times rudeness. The service was almost military in its precision. The moment you emptied a bowl you’d magically get a refill. It seemed some people of the staff had the sole responsibility of peering into plates and beckoning the food-carriers as soon as they spotted empty bowls.
We were out in less than half an hour with a large packet of Sitaphal Rabri for the hungry pack at home.
At Rs 150 a thali — it was a deal.
Afterword
And we forgive the maitre d, he really just doesn’t have time to be nice. He’s too busy seating hungry people and ensuring he feeds as many as possible. If he does annoy a patron here and there … well never mind he’ll come back in his own time. We did, didn’t we?