Mira in the making

Don’t know whether you guys know or not but “Tim tim timate hain…….” is the theme song for Zee TV’s Sar Re Ga Ma Little Champs. A quite decent song actually which is sung by all the participants/ little champs themselves. We have lately realized that this is Mira’s favorite song. Most favorite song. She can probably kill a person if he blocks her view while the song is going on. She watches it with utmost attention and gleefully dances along. Interestingly, Mira still hasn’t realized that she has got hips too which can be used to respond to the beats of the music. And so, dance is just restricted to clapping hands, swaying arms, nodding head and bending knees.

Mira’s Papa, who is quite a TV buff himself, has been witness to Mira’s liking for this song and so despite the strongest of urges, tries not to flip the channel so that his little girl too can enjoy a bit of TV which he always had the monopoly on. Mummy who is keenly aware of Papa’s despair, is keeping extremely happy these days.

**************
I strongly believe that a potty trained kid is the biggest achievement a mommy can have. Seriously! So, while many other not-so-enlightened moms spend precious time teaching kids how to say “Thank You” or “Sorry”, I have been relentlessly teaching “Potty” to Mira. After around a year of hard-work, you know what, Mira has finally started saying “Paatee” a couple of days back. Seeking credit for my biggest victory, I was informing Papa about the benefits of this learning, when Mira in her usual endearing manner announced “Paatee” to both of us. Papa and I sprinted from the drawing room to the bathroom, ready to see concrete results of this knowledge in action. While Papa and I awaited the outcome with bated breath, all that Mira produced was a cheerful mischievous grin. Hey, do you really think I need to start teaching her “Thankyou” and “Sorry”?

**************
Mira croaks like a frog. No, you can’t attribute this to any genetic potential since Papa and I both fail to imitate this charming animal. Initially, this croaking (a strange noise that emanates from the throat) was random – could start off when Mira was in a good mood, was on her potty (not again!) or was simply bored to do anything else. Now, I almost see a pattern emerging – she starts off the croaking as soon as she feels a challenge being thrown at her. So, you know, when I’m teaching her some new words, like ‘El……ee……phaaant” and Mira needs to get back to Mumma with a challenge for her, she begins her croaking with a charming vengeance. Almost saying, hey if I can’t say that long meaningless word, even you can’t make this lovely sound. Can you? And so, both of us get down to doing what we know best – going mindlessly through colorful magazines where Mummy keeps staring at handsome hunks and Mira fondly keeps pointing them out as Ungals (Uncles). Not a bad deal, huh?

Mummy & Mira - Part II

Mira is on one of her regular rounds of the living room when she encounters a piece of food lying on the floor. Of course, she promptly picks it up.

Mummy runs towards Mira and pulls her to the dustbin, insisting she drops the food there.

Mira resists.

“Mira, please drop it. Drop it in the Dustbin…. NOW!”.

Mummy holds Mira’s arm and shakes it a bit, trying to loosen her grip.

It doesn’t.

“Miraaaaaa” – Mummy goes back to her grown-ups-know-best voice.

“No Mumma” – Mira answers back obstinately.

“Mira, please drop it” – Mummy continues.

“Aunnnghhh” – Mira fights back.

“Drop it Mira” – Mummy refuses to budge.

Mira finally gives in - she opens her other hand and drops Mummy’s mobile into the dustbin.

**************

“What does Sheep say, Mira?”

“Baa”- she says instinctively as she stacks her cups in the descending order.

“What does Cow say, Mira?”

“Moo” - as she dismantles the same tower of cups.

“What does Dog say Mira?”

“Bhau Bhau” - as she gets up to hunt for something new to play with.

(Usually, the Q&A session ends here. But, Mummy is in a mood to experiment today – she asks an interesting question with absolutely zero hope of receiving an answer.)

What does Mummy say Mira?

Mira continues to walk for a while and then suddenly turns back.

She looks Mummy in the eye, moves her finger in the to and fro motion and says “NO NO!”

Safari World

Mira’s Papa and I are just not the adventure kind. We’ve never parasailed in the unpredictable wind of a beach or rafted in the daring water of a river. Any adrenaline raising activity, if ever undertaken, has either been part of college curriculum or some superfluous team building initiative from office. After all, we pride ourselves as rational and practical people who prefer taking man-made safer alternatives rather than testing one’s luck through parachutes, rafts, ropes and things like these.

So, when we traveled to a fabulous open zoo called Safari World, we ensured that we stuck to our rational profile just like a honey bee does to the hive. But still, this trip was really memorable - it was Mira’s very first encounter with real animals; till now she had only seen them in different shapes and sizes in her picture books. And second, because it had the entire family in accompaniment – Mira, Mira’s cautious parents, Mira’s super-organized Daadi, Mira’s 2 hep Nepalese maids and a real clever Thai driver.

As soon as this eclectic mix of ours reached the park, we were supplied with all-in-one guide maps, which carried the various animals we would encounter on our way inside along with their brief descriptions. This jungle trail was supposed to be done in one’s vehicle since the animals were let loose in their natural habitats. The other section on the map talked about the different animal shows/ interactions along with their precise timings. Having taken a copy each, we headed towards the park and came across the first set of activities:

a) Feed a tiger cub by a milk bottle;
b) Shake hands with orang utans dressed in the most fluorescent of clothes;
c) Click pictures with the super-trained elephants (in dangerous proximity).

The mere sight of people queuing up to do such unbelievably meaningless stuff triggered off a series of nervous spasms in my body and the brain worked overtime to look for a well-suited excuse, when Papa (who might be under the same stress) announced single-mindedly, “Let’s hit the jungle trail first”. Mira’s Daadi who had barely reached the inside was taken by surprise and mused out loudly about the change in plan. “We don’t have much time on hand,” Papa answered back in the most matter-of-fact manner. “We are here for Mira – to show her the animals. We’ll do all this stuff later, if there’s time that is,” Papa said conclusively eliminating all possible chances of us ever coming back to this dangerous animal trio while we all proceeded towards the car.

So, there we were – four reasonably large women occupying the rear seat in a zig zag pattern, while Papa & Mira made themselves comfortable in the front seat along with the driver. As the trail began, we took up our individual roles. I played the official guide – spreading out my jungle map awkwardly with Daadi on one side and a maid on the other, announcing the name of each upcoming animal as we moved from point to point. Papa, as usual, continued with his role of confusing us by presenting his half baked knowledge (this time on animals!) which was interspersed with distracting Mira from pulling out A/C knobs from the dashboard in front. The maids interestingly transformed themselves into photographers who kept clicking random photos on their fancy cell phones. Daadi got busy with circulating some home-made namkeen and then, carefully sealing the mouth of the packet to prevent the ensuing moisture and sogginess of the snack. Our Driver, all this while fiddled through the glove box to extract the most favorite Beatles CD. Whose favorite? Driver’s favorite! Obviously, nothing plays in our car till it appeals to the refined tastes of our man-in-command.

The trail was lovely. The best part was that animals were visible and that too, in really good numbers. Mira, we could make out was completely ecstatic. She almost behaved like a drunk little person on the verge of collapsing, with her constant muttering of “Hhhhhhhhh”, “Oohhhhhhhh”, “Eehhhhhhhh” in the hoarsest of voices she could manage. The funny thing was that her reactions remained the same, no matter whether it was a beautiful bird in view or a dangerous tiger – probably she was just amazed by how life could manifest itself in such varied forms, sizes and colors; something which she was experiencing for the first time in her life.


We were happily cruising through this jungle path, when a lovely deer just decided to abandon his group and check out the occupants of our car. Can you see how close he got to our car, rather to the front seat where Papa & Mira were seated? Papa retrieved a bit in his seat, as the deer further neared himself to sniff/see/ lick both Mira & him. “That’s just a harmless deer,” I said mockingly as Papa unsuccessfully attributed it to his concern for Mira. Anyhow, we just drove past the animal and decided that it was time to be spectators (passive) to some of the recommended shows.

We went for the “Cowboy show”. Now, I wish that I could give you lucid flowing details about this but unfortunately, Mira was just not upto it. She insisted to be carried around while our entire team sat through the show with unabated attention. Though, Daadi and Papa did turn their necks over every now and then to sympathise with this sincere mom, both the maids were too caught up with the cowboys and their horses, to look away anywhere else. Mira had gone off to deep sleep as our impressed audience emerged out of the hall, leaving us with not much to do with the rest of the evening. And so, we decided to call it a day – a nice, happy interesting day.

And there we were – four reasonably large women with a sleeping toddler occupying the rear seat of the car while Papa made himself comfortable in the front seat along with the driver. It was a nice breezy journey going back home with a lovely Beatles CD playing in the background.

She is just like me - Yipee!

The fact is that it does upset me when people despite much cajoling, do confess that Mira is an exact copy of Papa’s and that there’s just no sign of me. It gets even worse when relatives promise to dig into old albums and seek out evidence – extract Papa’s childhood photos in specific poses to be placed against Mira’s, just to say – “Haina Beti ekdum Papa jaisee?, hmmm”

No, no - don’t get me wrong, Papa’s got a pretty decent face, features and stuff like that but you know, as a mom, you just feel left out. Nine months of unpredictable pregnancy, unbearable labor, never-ending feeding sessions, precious time kept aside for raising the baby, all done for what? – to see a day when one of your new acquaintances walks into the kids’ room of your building only to ask you with utmost honesty and innocence – “Hey, which one of these two is your daughter?”

But folks, finally there’s a reason to smile – some resemblance, though not really in the face, has started surfacing which proudly establishes Mira to be my daughter, much to the disappointment and chagrin of Papa.

One of these is our common unadulterated love for Besan ke ladoos. Yes, you got that right - Besan ke ladoos. It all started a few days back when my Mother-in-law visited us on her usual twice-a-year trip to Bangkok, all armed with home-made sweet weapons crucial to keep the daughter-in-law happy but unhealthy for long. Willingly giving in, I munched almost a full ladoo every day, with a curious Mira consistently insisting to have a share in this magical stuff. Not really sure if she would like it, I just smeared a few remnants on her lips and waited to see the reaction. Mira’s investigative look soon dissolved into amusement and there, I knew that I had finally found my lifetime ladoo partner in her. Since then, Mira toddles off to the kitchen every morning, goes on her toes, points at the top of the fridge, and says with the most endearing of expressions – “De do, De do”.

Our other similarity emerges from the way we treat our morning everyday, irrespective of how our previous night turned out. Mira usually gets up from her sleep, with a wide and happy smile. She stands up in her crib, grips it by her hands and does some nice cheerful babbling, while her bleary-eyed Papa looks up the clock in full denial. Though Papa has been relentless in rejecting this as an exclusive Mumma-Daughter trait, claiming that he too has been happy about mornings, even I have put my foot down this time and refused to be fooled by him. What happiness? The only emotion Papa exudes in the morning is that of curiosity – curiosity to know if Obama managed to inch ahead of Clinton?, if the US downturn is indeed recession?, or even worse, if the closest theater is still running his favorite Oscar nominees? There’s such hurry to consume news I tell you, that the poor happiness has just no place to survive!

Anyhow, coming back to the point, there’s one more similarity which kind of makes this Mumma-Daughter thing more amusing for me. And that is – the color of our hair. While Papa has got this black curly South Indian kind of hair, I flaunt 100% North Indian light brown straight hair. And absolutely, no points for guessing what color is Mira’s hair?

Well, these are the only commonalities which are apparent right now, but am sure, there are many more to come and am so very looking out for them. For the time being, I am just going to call up Papa’s relatives back home and update them on the latest similarities – what should I say, “Haina Beti ekdum Mummy jaisee?, hmmm”