Saturday, August 23, 2008

The Fish

I was traveling for the last 3 days on account of work. Went to a small but fast-developing city that had beautiful lakes and soothing greenery but had nothing much in terms of shopping, especially for someone like me who came from an undisputed shopping paradise called Bangkok.

But still I had to buy something, something nice - for that was the only way to get rid of the guilt that had immediately crept in as soon as I left my 23 months old daughter behind in pursuit of my own needs. Or maybe, it was just the longing to see some excitement on her face – her lips widening into an ear to ear smile and her eyes twinkling with excitement as she fiddled with an unexpected interesting toy in her hands, bought after much deliberation and thoughtfulness on her Mummy’s part. I wasn’t really sure what the real reason was but the fact that I had to buy something was an absolute must.

I managed to grab a couple of hours on the very first day of the visit. Slipped into my T-shirt and Jeans (Couldn’t afford to venture out in one of the only two formal sets of clothing that I had) and turned right from the hotel entrance, in hope of locating a few baby shops that I had spotted the same morning on my way from the airport. It was scorching hot and a few gracious taxis did slowdown in anticipation of a positive nod but had to speed away disappointed, for walking seemed to be the best way to get to my destination. The shops lay somewhere in the vicinity of the hotel, and I was convinced that an over-enthusiastic taxi was bound to overshoot my target cutting into the only two hour break that I had managed for myself.

“City Babies” read the first shop. I got in excited having looked at the elaborate tri-cycles and baby cots that were visible form the glass window. There were loads and loads of Chinese toys inside – all carrying a sincere promise of immediate lead poisoning and extremely low quality of manufacturing. Moving away in disappointment, I headed towards the relatively smaller section of soft toys, and realized that some of them already formed part of Mira’s overwhelming toy collection while some of them just didn’t look right.

And then, my eyes fell on her - bright and charming, yellow in color, wide black stripes, think pink lips and big black eyes. I instantaneously liked her. The cash counter did dampen my spirits though – she was far cheaper than what I had imagined her to be and the loss of currency wasn’t weighty enough to justify my 3 days of absence from home. Visited the other two shops in desperation but to absolutely no avail.

Coming back home was an exciting experience. As I slammed shut the door behind me, I saw Mira standing next to the book shelf in the passage, making up her mind about which book to pick. Papa and Daadi came running out of their individual rooms, anxious to see the reactions of a long-separated child. I moved as fast as I could while loudly exclaiming “Hello Mira” all the way towards her. She didn’t react much – a tiny blank face probably struggling to figure out the quantum of time that had elapsed since I last met her – was it normal or not?; was it more than usual?; was she around mostly as she always used to be? A minute long pause and then, she held out one of her favorite books to me, and said – “Mummy Mira read book”. No complaints, no tantrums, no realizations – I’ve to confess to my gratitude for having things the way they were and to my confidence for enhanced work-related travel in the future.

And yes, the fish happened to be a much bigger hit than what I had expected it to be. It is either trailing behind her sweeping the floor, or supporting her head as a nice soft cushion, or just lies next to her as she puts together her puzzles or goes through her books.

Papa being the Indian parent he is, didn't let go of the chance to teach something educational even with the fish. In his usual instructive tone, he said – “See Mira, Fins and tail. Fish’s fins and tail.” Me being the wicked mom I am, asked her – “If this is fish’s tail, where is Mira’s tail?”. Mira’s hand immediately shot back and ran across her entire bum, while her eyes reassured me that I’m going to soon locate it, don’t you worry.

Papa and I burst out laughing. Wonder if life could be anymore fun, exciting and content than what it is now!

Monday, August 11, 2008

Conversation this morning

Scene - Building lift. Mummy is peering into the lift mirror, wondering when would her dark circles magically disappear. Mira is playing with her cat. Soft toy, that is.

Mira: Mummy…....see Cat mooch (pointing at the cat’s moustache).

Mummy: Yes baby, Cat mooch. Very good.

Mira: Cat mooch.....Mummy mooch!

Mummy (aghast): No baby, Mummy no mooch. Mummy NO MOOCH. Didi NO mooch. Mira NO mooch. Cat mooch…….and Papa mooch. Ok?

Mira: Cat mooch………..Papa mooch.

Mummy (relieved) : Very good, baby. Very good. Cat mooch. Papa mooch. (I know, we both love repeating things.)

Mira: Mummy.......Cat meow.

Mummy: Yes Mira. Cat meow.

Mira: Cat meow….........Papa meow?

Mummy (a few seconds later) - I wish beta, I wish but Papa no meow baby, Papa no meow.

The lift opens up and a wishful Mummy and a learned Mira step out.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

My little shy girl

The maternal genes are coming into play and Mira seems to be turning into a shy person – just the way her mom was and continues to be.

In today’s fast-paced competitive world, I do realize that shyness is usually not considered as a very convenient trait to carry. Over many play-dates and general conversations with friends in Bangkok as well as in India, I’ve noticed that moms are more than happy to address their kids as mischievous, obstinate, demanding or even difficult, but shyness does make a deliberate escape from their lips. Being someone who has lived with this trait for the last 30 years of my life, I do feel that most of the fears are unreal and the concerns exaggerated.

Right through my childhood till date, I’ve been a dear daughter to my parents, who always regarded my shyness as just another personality trait, which sometimes evoked laughter, sometimes embarrassment but never really demanded any significant repairs. If you’ll talk to my mom, I’m sure she’ll have dozens of incidents to tell you where I just stood frozen gazing at our green Persian carpet, rather than breaking out into an enthusiastic “Twinkle Twinkle”, which was anxiously being awaited in the company of our distant Punjabi relatives. Or, she’ll tell you how even a friendly gaze from a stranger got me burying my head into her lap, wondering if there was a magic formula that could let me evaporate from the scene of discomfort.

In fact, there’s one incident that always gets talked about in our family forums, when childhood memories are being discussed and laughed upon. I think I was in class III or IV and I had just come back from school. The door bell rang and the keyhole revealed Mrs. Bhatia, Mummy’s reasonably good friend, known for her big appetite and equally strong inquisitiveness. Partly out of shyness, and partly out of complete conviction that both of us had absolutely nothing in common, I decided to take refuge under the bed. Covering my eager-to-giggle mouth with both the hands, I anxiously awaited mom’s creativity to explain my unusual absence from the house. Mom being mom, after an exchange of pleasantries, made up her mind to deceive me and gestured aunty right under the bed. My heart did skip a beat as a double layered arm appeared right next to my shelter, and single-mindedly dragged me out with one of my legs. Embarrassment, deceit and anger – all seemed such relevant emotions at that point in time.

The amusing bit is that even today when I bump into aunty every once in a while, this incident does get a mention in the first few lines of her conversation to me. It usually ends with her mischievously asking me if I’m still found under the bed, followed by a signature hearty Punjabi laugh. Well, the answer to that is no. No, not because it is difficult to hurl a 60 kg body under the bed but because over the years, one does learn all the necessary skills to deal with the uneasy bits of shyness. There is strategically placed wit, ice-breaking laughter, friendly shoulder pats and the very belief that some of the strangers can turn out to be the best of friends that let people like me take the initiative to meet and strike conversations with the strangest of strangers.

And believe me, it has all worked well till now! I remember a few years back when I was still doing my post-grad, I was not the most popular girl on the campus (yes, one charming extrovert girl was) but nonetheless, I was a reasonably liked and respected one. All shy people, for some reason share the same characteristics of grace, self-awareness and sincerity towards others. Ok now, not even for once am I suggesting that our extrovert counterparts lack these, but shy people somehow seem to exhibit them all the time. I don’t even remember how many OB classes did I rightfully miss in order to educate my close friends on their next moves in relationships, just because I was considered good in my understanding of human nature and behavior. A simple fallout of self-awareness, I think! On people sincerity, it would probably be just apt to share that my best friend dates back to my high school – her position remains unaltered irrespective of our frequency of meeting each other or of other interesting people having entered our lives.

The trait has had almost nil effect in my office life as well. I’ve worked with different-natured juniors, colleagues and bosses and there has never really been a problem. Sometimes the pretext of work helped me tackle inconvenient situations and sometimes, my skills acquired over the years made me glide over problems.

But, shyness has never really been a handicap to me – not in my personal life and not in my professional.

So, while at the age of 22 months, it's probably a bit early for me to categorize Mira under the attribute of shyness - she might turn out to be a page 3 celebrity for all I know, but if she ever shows the signs of being what I've become – I’m going to celebrate her shyness just the way my mom did mine.

Or, maybe even more.