Just a sample of what they do the minute I turn my back to watch the other one. The first one is Naisha’s the second Hrit’s.
It ain’t easy
The family that does homework together stays together
Friday again.. another load of homework. This time along with the writing and colouring they had to ‘draw’ their buddy — a favourite toy.
I wonder what the teachers were thinking — that within a week Hrit Naisha would graduate from struggling with sleeping and standing lines to actually drawing. To be fair, parents were instructed to ‘help’.
Naisha’s was easy.. Shanti, her doll, was drawable but Hrit’s buddy was his stuffed tiger Sher Khan (both named after Jungle Book characters).
Sketching is not really my forte. I thought of changing his buddy – maybe a ball or a bat or his favourite gada. “They are not ‘friends’ mama”, Hrit complained.
I asked Sunil for help. “You’re an engineer,” I said, “you must have done some drawing.”
“Engineers don’t draw tigers,” he said sounding miffed. “Check on the net”, he advised before returning to the telly.
Hey why didn’t I think about that? Sure enough google came up with a site on step by step guide to drawing animals and there was the tiger. I managed to copy it… though it looked more like a cat. At least it’s the same family, I consoled myself. More importantly Hrit was thrilled. As both of us celebrated, Sunil came over to take see what the excitement was about. He was suitably impressed by the masterpiece.
All Hrit had to do was colour it orange, which he proceeded to do with great gusto. Sunil was enthused enough to actually sit at the table with us. While Hrit and I worked on the tiger he spruced up Naisha’s Shanti. It looked a tad woebegone but then it was done almost entirely by her so that was something.
Whew.. another Friday gone. Waiting with bated breath for the next one.
PS: Despite the bother must admit this was better than being a ‘witch mom’. Please guys say the tiger is nice.
Word Maze
The other day when we came back from the playground Hrit crashed on the sofa and said, “Mama I’m sausted.” It took me a while to figure this one out.
It’s funny how kids modify words to suit their tongues. Naisha, for one, never really baby-talked. She had a clear diction almost since she started talking. Hrit made up by giving us baby talk enough for both of them. What’s interesting is that he listens well and picks up unlikely words and then uses them wherever he feels fit.
Once during a severe dressing down session he said contritely, “Mama I’m excellent sorry.” I almost laughed out. Hrit has outgrown it but I can’t stop using it now… ‘Excellent sorry’ seems somehow sorrier than ‘very sorry’.
One thing however is common with both and persists even now after they’ve turned four — they drop the first letter of any word which they find tough to pronounce. So Hrit wears his ‘jama when he goes to bed and points out Naisha’s ‘trocious behaviour, his favourite toy Sher Khan the tiger has ‘tripes, Naisha ‘members things and of course Hrit gets ‘sausted.
It’s funny how kids modify words to suit their tongues. Naisha, for one, never really baby-talked. She had a clear diction almost since she started talking. Hrit made up by giving us baby talk enough for both of them. What’s interesting is that he listens well and picks up unlikely words and then uses them wherever he feels fit.
Once during a severe dressing down session he said contritely, “Mama I’m excellent sorry.” I almost laughed out. Hrit has outgrown it but I can’t stop using it now… ‘Excellent sorry’ seems somehow sorrier than ‘very sorry’.
One thing however is common with both and persists even now after they’ve turned four — they drop the first letter of any word which they find tough to pronounce. So Hrit wears his ‘jama when he goes to bed and points out Naisha’s ‘trocious behaviour, his favourite toy Sher Khan the tiger has ‘tripes, Naisha ‘members things and of course Hrit gets ‘sausted.
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While on words and languages.. It’s quite a struggle to get them to figure out Hindi and English versions of words…. and then there are synonyms to make life tougher. They often can’t figure out which is Hindi for a word and which is merely a synonym in English. Once during a story we came across the word ‘furious’. I said it means the same as angry.. Naisha was quick to clarify.. “Angry in English, furious in Hindi.” What do multilingual people do?
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Love hurts
I love you so much it hurts.. said a corny line from the Salman Khan classic MPK … However it seemed unusually apt for me.
Yes I am in love ….. with a slim me. And boy does it hurt. Back home from my first day at the gym, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.. everything hurt. Love sure hurts.
As I stand on the weighing scales at 70+ kgs the slim me is an ephemeral dream. It is the pursuit of this love that led me to the gym. This love has led me to the most legendary fights of all times — the battle with the bulge. There has been no truce for thirty years. It is a challenge neither of us is ready to give up. It was a fair fight and despite a few lows I remained the winner for a good many years.. till my twins happened. The enemy finding my attention diverted attacked with full force.
By the time the kids turned four and I took cognizance of the situation the enemy stood waving its victory flag all over me. Not one to accept defeat easily, I took charge. Off I went to the gym once more.
I took on aerobics six times a week. I loved the music and thought I’d have fun. My mistake. Ten minutes into the session and I was spent. I stopped mid session and stood panting by the stepper thinking I’d drop if I took another step. But the demon instructor made me get back on. On I went driven by will power alone groaning and cursing.
There were days of kickboxing, which I thought I would enjoy till the instructor told me to do 60 kicks in a row followed by sixty punches…. My shoulders protested and my thigh muscles almost gave up but on I went.
Then there were the Fridays.. bhangra days. I must mention here that I NEVER dance. Not even the casual dance one does at weddings or parties.. I am the kind that stands around and claps. When really moved by the music or the occasion I might sway a bit but that’s as far as I’d go.
The other girls were of course thrilled.. the men quietly backed out. So what does a girl non dancer do?? Not dance? Wrong.. a girl non dancer desperate to get slim.. dances, or tries to. Fridays saw a resolute me boogeying to bhangra beats. I thought that was as far as I was willing to go for the love of the slim me. However, there was more.
In a bid to make our workouts ‘interesting’ the instructors introduced Salsa every Monday. Slasa and me??? My friends laughed at the mere idea … but did I back out? No. On I went. “One two three.. five six seven.. right left right…right left right… move your waist,” exhorted the trainer. I struggled to move my feet, my waist and my hands in time to the music holding on to an imaginary partner. Once I lost my self-consciousness it wasn’t so bad. I began to have fun. And the icing on the cake – it wasn’t hard work like the bhangra.
After a well-rested Sunday I entered the gym thinking of a cool Salsa session. But love’s way is never simple. For that special ‘zing’ the gym decided to bring in hip hop. Hip hop I thought??? My mind went blank. Now that was one dance form I didn’t even like watching. But where was the choice?
Shahid’s song boomed out — Aaja aaja dil nichoden…..Dhan tanan.. I thought I would die before I’d try those jerks. But I didn’t. The instructor came on … one, two, three jerk.. one, two, three jerk.. play an imaginary guitar… now jump as high as you can…. And on he went.
Half a dozen girls shook, moved, jiggled and jogged and surprise surprise.. so did I. By the second week there I was, right in front, all of my forty years and 70 kgs trying to keep pace. No I never really enjoyed the locking and the popping and I never had the heart to even glance at the mirror at my ridiculous self. However I must admit to the thrill of having done it all….or maybe I speak too soon. I’ve moved and am looking out for a gym. Wonder what this one will make me do.
PS: I did lose weight too and am back on an even footing.. well on my way to defeating the enemy. The ‘completely slim me’ dream though is still a dream.
Motherhood ironies
This is in response to Rohini’s tag.
One from the good old days…
Your little one has been singing a rhyme all day till you’re driven up the wall. She’s sung it for the neighbour, the maid, the guard … everyone. Then your husband comes home. You ask her to sing it for papa and ….. silence….
And when they’re older…
Your son/daughter who is unable to play for a minute with his/her sibling without a squabble gets a comment ‘good team player’ at school.