Loudspeakers and the police.

So it is that time of the year when Ganesha pandals are put up and a lot of ruckus is made in his name.

As usual, a function is going on about a kilometer from my parents' home, where I am staying now. The music was so loud that I could not hear myself speak.

As usual, calls were made to the police. Not one, not two, but a dozen. And not just by us, by many of our neighbours.

As usual, it was of no use. [Ok, this is slightly unfair of me. There have been times when the police have gone and switched off the music or lowered the volume].

Anyway, today, this is what happened:

7:30 pm - Call made to local police station, they say they would dispatch a Cheetah (police patrol mobike) immediately.

7:45 pm - No change in situation, another call made. Policeman says that the association has already taken permission and they cannot do anything. When asked whether the permission includes blaring loudspeakers at unspeakable decibels, there is no satisfactory answer. They say that the Cheetah has gone elsewhere, they would dispatch it as soon as it gets back.

8:00 pm - No change in situation. My dad personally goes to where the function is going on, and makes a request to the organizers to lower the volume. They say they will, and dad comes back.

8:05 pm - No change in situation. Just as I put my baby down on the crib, Himesh starts howling, and my baby wakes up bawling.

8:10 pm - My parents decide to call 1-0-0. It is busy. Yes. 100. Busy. This wasn't an emergency, so it is okay. What if there had been a burglar in the backyard? What would I do? "Please wait, Burglar Uncle, 1-0-0 is busy. Let me search the directory for other emergency numbers". How on earth can 100 be busy? Are they nuts? Shouldn't they have enough lines to cover any and all calls originating in this burgeoning city?

8:15 pm - My parents call the DG's office. Policeman answers politely, says he understands, and that permissions don't mean that they can play music so loudly, and says that he will dispatch a Hoysala (Police Patrol 4-wheeler) immediately.

8:45 pm - No change in situation.

9:00 pm - My baby still bawling, I call the local police station. As I start to complain, the policeman says, "Some people are having some entertainment, why should so many of you call and complain". My BP rises. "Can you hear a baby crying? She cannot fall asleep because of the noise. If some people want entertainment, why should others suffer? What are you police for? Please do something!" Policeman's tone changes. "Oh baby not sleeping? Tch Tch... will dispatch a Cheetah immediately". I recognize the tone. Indulgent. I hang up, without much hope.

9:15 pm - No change in situation. Call again to the local police station. Same reply. Wonder how many Cheetahs are bounding about this area, if they are to be believed.

9:45 pm - Put on loud, soothing music to cover the other noise. The baby falls asleep, more out of exhaustion than anything else.

10:00 pm - No change in situation. Another call to police station. Aren't loudspeakers banned after 10 pm? Ah yes, madam, we will dispatch a Cheetah right away.

10:30 pm - Volume slightly lessened.

11:00 pm - Function concluded, and then silence. Golden, golden silence.

Please draw your own conclusions. I'm off to bed.

Erlangen

When I was a toddler, I lived with my parents in Erlangen, Germany, for a year. I obviously don't remember much of my stay, but the snaps taken then show me as a little kid with a mop of thick black hair, and cheeks the size and colour of apples. The indoor snaps usually show me eating or drinking something, and the outdoor snaps show me covered from top to toe in warm clothes, with only my cheeks popping out.

Aside 1: The mop of hair remains, but where did those cheeks go, do you ask? I used to wonder too, but now I know. They were in hibernation, and now they have come back and attached themselves to my baby's face.

Aside 2: Georg Simon Ohm - he of the Resistance fame - was born in Erlangen, and that's why he came back twenty years later to haunt me when I studied Electrical Engineering.

Well, though I am technically not supposed to remember anything about my stay in Erlangen, being very little, the point is that I do. I remember:

• Looking down from the window of our 19th storey apartment.
• Feeding bread crumbs to swans in the lake near our home.
• Playing with my Indo-German friend An in her water-filled inflatable tub, and crying when asked to get out because it was time to go home.
• Wanting to eat the beads on An's rubber band, because they looked like peppermints (Greedy pig right from childhood, yes).
• Feeling out of place at a children's gathering because all the kids spoke only German.
• Sitting on my mom's lap and eating something while she showed me pictures in a book.

Most other memories have probably come from snaps, so I won't add them here. These are the memories I am sure I remember without external aid. I remember these perhaps because all of them must have induced extreme (at that time) emotions in me - happiness, greed, loss, loneliness...

Ok, so why on earth did I start talking about Erlangen out of the blue? Well, I was looking at the Sitemeter of my blog and clicked on "Who's on", and found a reader from Erlangen. And that, I can tell you, gave me quite a thrill. I later realized that it was a "siemens.de" domain, so it could well be possible that my reader wasn't really sitting in Erlangen, s/he could have been elsewhere reading my blog through a server situated in Erlangen. So, anyway, if that reader is you, put your hand up, please, delurk, and let me know. JFK, as we would say in college - Just For Kicks. Thank you.

Hair.

What do you get when you cross a

Guard(Courtesy)
with a
Cockatoo? (Courtesy)

Answer:


My baby's hair.

The sound of a baby's laughter.

As soft as velvet.
As bubbly as a brook.

Comforting.
Elevating.

Brings a smile on any face.
Induces hope in any heart.

The sweetest sound on Earth.

Champ Mom

Lindsay Davenport won the Bali Classic Tournament on Sunday.

What's so special about that, do you ask?

She won this just three months after she gave birth to a baby.

Let me face it. She had a baby after I did, and she went out there and won an international tournament yesterday.

I am ashamed. If Lindsay can win a tournament, I should at least be able to climb a flight of stairs without panting.

I need to start my fitness regimen. Now. On second thoughts, not now, considering that it is 11 o clock at night.

Tomorrow.

Do I see a smug look on S' face?

Water, water, everywhere....

It has been pouring non-stop for the past couple of days. But even I was taken aback when this photo jumped out at me from the front page of the newspaper today. Hosur road flooded with water, and these people are moving about in coracles. Coracles! On the roads of the Software City's IT hub!!

Everything else apart, the first question that popped into my head was - Where did they get these coracles?

Bangalore does not have any rivers in its immediate vicinity, other than Vrishabhavati [1], (in which no one in their right mind would willingly go riding on coracles), and I don't think any coracles go about on Bangalore's lakes either. Then, where did these coracles come from?

Did some enterprising businessman start transporting coracles to these IT offices the moment it started raining? Or wonder of wonders, have companies started storing coracles?

Maybe companies have included this in their disaster management plans, something like - 20 coracles should be stored in the basement to ferry employees when the roads get flooded during the monsoons.

Who knows?

On another note, two nights ago, after attending to the Little One when she woke up for her night feed, I felt hungry and popped in at the kitchen for a drink of warm milk. As I sat sipping the comforting liquid, I watched the rain. I saw gallons and gallons of rain water flowing down the road. Some of it will seep underground and groundwater will be replenished. Yes. But how about the other water? So much water going down the drain - literally. How much opportunity there is for rainwater harvesting!

Fact: Bangalore receives about 970 mm of rainfall every year. The number of rainy days is close to 60 (over a period of eight months). 54 percent of the rainfall is due to the south-west monsoon. Rainfall in Bangalore can be expected to arrive on time, and without fail. Due to these extremely favourable conditions, rainwater harvesting is a viable solution to the city's rainwater harvesting problems. In fact, it has been estimated that over 40 percent of Bangalore's water requirements can be fulfilled by Rainwater Harvesting.

Fact: A 100 square meter rooftop can yield upto 90,000 liters of water annually.

Fact: Bangalore is the first city (in India) to include rainwater harvesting in its byelaws. The law says that “ every building with a plinth area of exceeding 100 sq mtrs and built on a site measuring not less than 200 sq mtrs shall have one or more Rain Water Harvesting structures having a minimum total capacity as detailed in Schedule”. This specification also means that adapting rainwater harvesting costs less than one percent of the total cost of the construction.

A lot of information can be got from the Rainwater Club.

[1] Vrishabhavati was a beautiful river, which is now the sewage and effluent canal for the city.

More snippets

* The Little One rolled over on Sunday, at exactly 3.5 months. And now all she does is roll over. Any time is roll-over time, because of which -
- Diaper accidents have now turned into diaper disasters.
- Diaper-changing is next to impossible - I have to tie her down!
- No longer can I leave her lying on elevated surfaces - I have to be on my toes all the time!
- After she is on her tummy for a while, she tires of it and starts whimpering - when I put her back on her back, she promptly rolls over like a spring and whimpers again.
- When she wakes up for her night feed, she rolls over and waits for me to wake up. When I do hear her and wake up, I see a head struggling to keep itself upright, with a cute little sleepy face smiling delightedly at me from about half a foot away. Makes my night, each night!

* She loves her rattle - and when I say Love, I mean LOVE.
- She loves to hold it and rattle it, and keeps hitting her forehead head in the process.
- She protests when it is taken away from her.
- If it is rattled when she is playful, she stares at it and gurgles and smiles.
- If it is rattled when she is restless, she turns hyper-active.
- If it is rattled when she is crying uncontrollably, she stops crying.
- When she is calm and peaceful and sleepy, rattling the rattle makes her fall asleep. (Really!)

* She attended her first concert this weekend - by Smt. Aditi Upadhya, the wonderful lady who taught me music many years ago. We entered a little late, and The Little One sat quite attentively at first. I almost thought I could sit through till the end - but then she conducted some noisy diaper business, and grew restless - we had to leave before she screamed and disturbed the others. :(

* I take her out on walks regularly - she loves it.

* Ragi didn't agree with her - or maybe her system is not yet ready for it. Semi-solids have been put off for a while.

* Her sleep has improved a lot - thanks for asking. Your tips on my Help! post helped a lot, I really appreciate all your inputs. The crying-when-sleepy-syndrome has gone down considerably. But her naps are still very very short. I can hardly get any work done during the day.

* She seems to be a Shakespeare fan. She keeps saying "King Li-yah".

Cerelac

I love Cerelac. I was fed Cerelac as a kid, and I am sure I dipped my spoon into my sis PeeVee's bowl when she was being fed Cerelac, but my happiest Cerelac days came much later.

Whem my cousin K1 reached the Cerelac-eating age, I would hang around during his feed-times, half for the joy of seeing the adorable fellow eat, and half in the expectation that he would leave some in the bowl, so that I could lay claim over that. And sure enough, he wouldn't eat all of it (thank you, K1), and I would lick the bowl clean.

When his brother K2 was born, I was a little older, and much cleverer. My aunt V and mom had roped me in to "help" feed K2, perhaps to keep me busy. I would receive instructions to prepare Cerelac for him. I would go to the kitchen, prepare Cerelac under somebody's guidance, and then take the bowl to my aunt for her to feed the little K2. Once they were sure I could do it on my own, they allowed me to do it without supervision a few times. Here's where I worked my plan. If they had asked me to prepare two spoons of Cerelac, I would prepare 3 spoons. The logic being, obviously, that K2 would waste more, and I would get more to eat.

I am not sure if my aunt V worried about why K2 had started eating less (she wouldn't, she is hardly the worrying kind), but if she did worry, and changed his feed in any way, I apologize for the lacuna, if any, in K2's nutritional input. But considering that he is now a strapping six-foot plus sportsman, I think it hardly mattered!

Anyway, after that, there was quite a gap before the next kid was born in the family, and I grew Cerelac-hungry. Once, when I was well into my teens, I poured out my tale of Cerelac craving to my sis P, and was quite surprised to see that she loved Cerelac too! We mentioned it to our parents, and they, sweet people that they are, gave us some money and asked us to go and buy Cerelac for ourselves. Ohmigosh! A full tin of Cerelac just for us! Both of us ran back home, mixed some Cerelac with milk, dug into it, found it bland, added sugar, and ah, bliss! That cured my Cerelac cravings - for the present. But a couple of years later, another cousin V was born, and sure enough, I ate his Cerelac too.

Now, just think, I have my own baby and I have full control over what I can do with her food - so I couldn't wait until I could start her on Cerelac. But the Doc advised me to start her on processed Ragi. I was shocked. What about Cerelac? Yeah, yeah, I know, Ragi is much more nutritious, and home-made stuff is always better, and the Little One is slurping up her Ragi, cooing and flailing her limbs in pleasure. But what about Cerelac?

Well, whatever it is, I am waiting for an opportunity to bring Cerelac home... errr.. for myself.

Babies test your patience...

.... And that's why Nature made them irresistible!

A baby is ....

.... An Alimentary Canal with a loud voice at one end and absolutely no responsibility at the other.

What a perfect definition! I found it in the Absolutely Useless Dictionary.

One more of my favourites, from the same place:

Sweater - Something you put on when your mother gets cold.

I am sure the Little One will agree to that wholeheartedly! I never know how to dress her, I just dress her like I would have dressed in that weather, just a little warmer. Sigh. I wish there was a babybodycomfortometer.

Visit the Absolutely Useless Dictionary at your own risk. You will have many many wonderful hours of laughter, but it is addictive, and then don't blame me!

Also read: The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce

The dream

When I was expecting the Little One, I had a dream.

I was playing with a baby. It was adorable, as babies generally are - and it was smiling, sweet-smelling, and very active. I tickled its belly, watched it gurgle. I touched it's soft head, put my finger into its tight little fist, and tickled its feet. I played with it for a very long time.

Gradually, the baby became restless, its smiles turned to whimpers, and soon it was crying. I had no idea what to do. Perhaps it is hungry, I thought. Or maybe it needs a nappy-change. Its mother will know what to do. I will take it to the mother.

I scooped the baby up in my arms, and ran into the next room. Nobody there. I ran back, and ran to all the rooms in the house. No one. The baby was bawling non-stop, and I grew panicky. I ran from room to room in search of the mother, but all the rooms were empty. There was no one in the house. I was alone. I ran back to the room I was in originally. As I stood helplessly with the baby in the middle of the room, the realization struck me like lightning.

I was the baby's mother.

At this point, I woke up sweating, my heart beating very fast.

This dream was a revelation.

When I had heard the heart beat of the baby for the first time, I found myself in tears with the enormity of the realization that there is actually another life inside me.

At the second ultrasound scan, I struck me that it was just not another life - it was a miniature human being in there. With tiny limbs and organs and a tiny head. A tiny person.

When I saw other babies around me, it hit me that the restless movements inside me are of another baby just like those - one with a will of its own - who kicks and punches, who is eating what I eat, who is growing inside me, waiting for the right time to come out and take its place in the world.

But this dream - this dream succeeded in doing what I had either ignored or not bothered enough about. It told me that in a very short time, I would no longer be a passive nurturer, but a full-time "care-taker". I would be responsible for the health, safety and well-being of another person. That I am going to be the one others will run to when a particular baby cries. That I am the one who will be expected to know what to do with the baby. And happily, I will be the one the baby is most likely to respond to.

It took three months but yes, it has happened. Now, I know my baby's signals (S: What does it mean when she has her right fist in her hair and the left in her mouth? I: She's sleepy), I am the one whom she responds to, and I am the one who can comfort her best (Ok, Ok, I lie about the last one. S can comfort her almost as well!)

And though it is a lot of work, it's a heady experience!

Here is a related post by my friend Madhu, who has started a blog recently. Back in college, we would sometimes look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking. After all these years, I read this post by her and felt, whew, she still thinks like I do - It could have been me saying all that she has said here!

Imperfect

It had been going so smoothly. Madhavi had at last been impressed with the credentials of the guy that her parents had suggested to her, enough to agree to meet him. The guy's family seemed very practical and open-minded, and hadn't cringed when she had asked to go out with the guy a couple of times before she decided. The guy himself - Dinesh - was a perfect gentleman, and kept her amused and engaged on both the times they had gone out together, and didn't ask a single WTH question. She had surprised herself when she went home after the second date and told her parents that she was ready to marry this guy.

Her parents were thrilled, and immediately started preparations for the engagement. They watched with amazement at their daughter smiling and laughing on the phone with Dinesh, and looked on with joy when she actually started making an effort to look good while going out with him.

It therefore came as a shock when Madhavi returned early from a date and announced that the engagement was off. Frantic questioning brought no response. Madhavi had totally zipped up. She didn't seem upset, though, said her sister.

Madhavi wasn't upset, oh no, but terribly disappointed. But she knew she had made the right decision. She couldn't possibly tell anybody the reason, not even her sister. They wouldn't understand. Dinesh was a wonderful guy, there was hardly any doubt about that. But no way, no way on earth could she marry a person who could wear a magenta-coloured silk shirt. No way.

This is a sponsored post.

Ok, my little sis PeeVee has updated her blog, and has promised to update it regularly. So please go and read.

Ok, PeeVee, done, advertised.

These little brats, they take advantage of their big sisters! I started my blog with four readers - my husband, sister and parents. And this kid wants instant readership, so she wants me to advertise her blog on my blog. *Snigger*

Ok, I'll come clean. She has bribed me for this. She has promised to send me the autographed photograph. Ha. Let's wait and watch.

Help!

Hello, all you moms and dads and aunts and uncles and anybody who has had experience with babies, I need help!

When she is sleepy, the Little One cries - and cries a lot. (And no, she is not hungry, colicky, and I ensure she is as comfortable as possible.) She becomes restless and bawls non-stop. I need to try a variety of things - hold her, rock her, swing her, sway her, sing to her, walk her - each time, and a combination of all, until she finally falls asleep.

Some friends say that I am very lucky (touchwood) that she sleeps well at night. Yes, that she does, from about 10 to 7 (except to wake up 2-3 times for her feeds, after which she drifts off with no trouble).

Yes, yes, I am very lucky on that count, but what about the mornings, when I seem to be spending half the day only putting her to sleep?

So I have some questions, please do help.

1) Did your baby/babies cry when they were sleepy?

2) How do you make your baby/child go to sleep? Does it sleep on its own, or do you have to put it to bed?

3) I have read a lot of stuff about making babies sleep. Some ask you to just let the baby cry it out, and that it will teach the baby independence. Some say that you shouldn't ignore the babies cries, as it will lead to insecurity and loss of self-worth. Some say, just follow your instincts.

I am totally confused. I can't see her crying - my instinct is to pick her up. Nowadays, after a permanent stiff neck and aching shoulders and pain in my lower back, I try to lie down next to her, pat her and comfort her, and only when she doesn't stop crying at all, do I pick her up - even then I just try and rock her, if everything else fails, I walk her.

What worked for you?

4) Did you use anything to make your child sleep - as in a cradle, joLi (cloth swing), rocker, bouncer, etc? Did it work? Once the baby got used to it, was it difficult to break the habit?

5) People tell me that she will soon grow out of this crying-when-sleepy stage - as she is three months old now. Is that true? Are there more problems yet to come? :D

There, here I am, a mother asking for your advice! Have fun!

Baby sleeping, do not disturb.

As a rule, I am polite to door-to-door salespeople. It definitely is not fun, walking from home to home repeating the same endless things to disinterested people, having doors closed on their faces - and I really wonder how much they manage to sell by the end of the day. If we don't want to buy anything or don't have time to listen to them, the least we can do is smile, and say no thanks. And that's what I do - or try to.

Just about half an hour ago, after a major struggle, the Little One fell asleep. Shoulders and arms aching, I started on the next step - putting her down on the bed with a bumpless transition. Just as I bent down, the gate opened noisily, and someone rang the bell with gusto. Nobody else was at home, I couldn't go and answer the door, nor could I call out from here to please wait, I will be right there. So I quietly continued to place the Little One on the bed. The doorbell rang again and again, with a "Madam, madam?" in accompaniment. Promptly the Little One woke up and started bawling again. To add to it, the doorbell rang again. I lost it. I stomped to the door, looked through the window, and a lady immediately started her sales pitch.

"You woke my baby! Stop disturbing me!" I shouted and stomped off inside again. Once again, shoulders aching, arms heavy, I swayed and sang to the Little One till she drifted off. But all the while I was feeling terrible for having shouted, but at the same, I know that I am no saint and don't have that much patience.

A similar thing had happened just before the Little One was born. I was upstairs and mom had gone for her bath - when the doorbell rang. I was tired and had been lying down. I got up from bed and called out from the balcony to ask who it was - no answer. I came down to the landing, called from there - no answer. Only the repeated ringing of the doorbell. I came all the way downstairs (which was hardly an easy task what with all my weight at that time) and peeped through the window, and a guy started his sales pitch. I was too tired for anything. "Just go away", I told him, and trudged up the stairs.

Really, what can one possibly do? Some people put up boards on their gates, "Salespeople not allowed" - I think that's terribly rude. Perhaps I should put up a sign that says "Baby sleeping, do not disturb"?

What do we have here?

A couple of days ago, I was slightly preoccupied while changing the Little One. She became restless, and to distract her, I opened my mouth, and out came the song, "Jhalak Dikhlaja"... yes the very same one by Himesh. I have no idea why I had to sing a song by Himesh, considering how much I like him - perhaps I had heard it somewhere and it was playing in my head - whatever the reason is, the fact remains that I did sing it.

And what did the Little One do? She became super-excited! And she laughed out loud and long. Oh yes. She has been doing the loud laugh for about a week now, but it had been something like "Aha ha". But this one was like "Aha Aha ha haaaaaaa Ahaaaa"!

I froze, nappy in mid-air. My parents who were in the next room, lost no time in running to this room.

Dad: Oho, look what we have here, a Himesh fan! And right after you wrote about her refined tastes!

Me: NOooo... Nooooo!

Mom: Did you hear that? She laughed out loud! LOUD! Shruthi, sing again, sing again!

Me: Nooooo wayyy!!!

Mom: So cute! Sing again, please, please!

Me: Nooooooo....

Mom: Please, come on! Just once!

Me: *reluctantly* Jhalak Dikhlaaajaaaaa..... Jhalak Dikhlaajaaaaa....

Little One: *beats limbs excitedly, eyes very very round and shiny, mouth wide open*

Me: Ek baar Aaja Aaja Aaja Aaja Aaaaaaaaaaja!

Little One: Aha ha ha ha ha Ahaaaaaaaaa haaa haaaa!!

Dad: Ha ha ha!

Mom: How cute! Did you hear that, she laughed out loud!

Me: *sniff* yeah....

Dad: She is a Himesh fan, you should tell your readers that. Maybe its time to try and obtain another autograph?

Me: Oh no, she is no Himesh fan, that was derisive laughter. Yes, that's what it was, derision! My baby still has refined tastes!

Or so I like to think. Himesh? Nooooooonnn! *Splutter.. splutter.. cough*

Musical Baby

[This post has been written more as a personal record than anything else. Feel free to skip it!]

I believe that all babies are born with a fascination for music/tune/rhythm. Some react noticeably, or rather, are probably observed more closely. How the baby turns out as an adult depends on how musically s/he is brought up. Genes obviously play a part, but more important than that is the interest and exposure.

I have already spoken about the Little One's ear for music. Probably her exposure to music even before she was born adds to it, and the fact that we play quite a bit of music to her, and sing to her a lot.

It was such a thrill to see her actually "listening" to music for the first time. She even has a "listening face" - her eyes concentrate on a random spot, she stops moving, she pouts her lips, and she listens.

It is fascinating to observe her reaction to different kinds of music. The earliest observation we made was when mom, a Carnatic vocalist, sang compositons in Raaga Reetigoula, a very soothing raaga, to her as a lullaby. Only for this raaga did she fall asleep. She would immediately yawn, her eyes would close, and she would nod off. Now, she has grown and distractions are aplenty, so she doesn't fall asleep to it that easily. Yet, only when this raaga is sung, she yawns and settles down immediately. When mom sings this to her when she is awake and playful, she shoots mom a dazzling smile, as if to say, Hey, I know this!

When mom sings different Raagas to her when she is awake, we can make out distinct preferences - and that is so amazing. Anandabhairavi makes her turn her head away from mom disinterestedly, she smiles a lot for Abheri, Kalyani makes her eyebrows shoot up ... I can go on.

I sing to her everything from Hindustani music to Carnatic Music to Film songs to Naayi Mari to Old McDonald to Pink Floyd to just plain nonsense rap. She loves it all. She smiles her toothless smile and flails her limbs in response, and talks her nonsense baby-talk.

About a month ago, we noticed another exciting thing. When mom was singing to her, she started making noises, which could have been mistaken for a cry for attention, but, only, it wasn't. The noise goes "Ou-wa", "Ou" as in "Out" and "wa" as in "wag". The "Ou" is low-pitched, the "Wa" is a good number of notes higher, in a falsetto. And this noise she makes with her brows knitted in concentration, her little mouth all wide and crooked, and with tremendous force from her lungs. We wondered what it was, and left it at that - and noticed it again when mom sang to her the next time. Then she did the same thing when I sang to her. Was she under the impression she was singing too? [I have videos of this - if we know each other, I will show them to you when you come home]. We then saw that she did it when we played music to her too! She was actually distinguishing between speech and music, and participating in the music! This reaction is dedicated only to slow music. For fast music, she just smiles and gurgles and beats her arms and legs.

Yesterday, I had left her playing with her toys in her crib and was doing some chores around the room. I noticed that she was doing this Song Routine. Since no one was singing and there was no music playing, I concluded that it was just a cry for attention, and so I went to her and talked to her. She continued the Song Routine with that same concentrated expression. I talked and talked, but didn't get the usual responses. Then suddenly something struck me - I immediately sang something - and the response was her million - watt smile, followed by more excited Song-Routine noises. Was she.... was she... singing on her own? :D

If you have read this far, and are inclined to dismiss this entire post as the product of an indulgent mother's crazed imagination, I understand completely. Sometimes even I wonder if I am imagining it all. But all the conclusions (except the last incident, of course), have been reached not after 2-3 incidences, but at least a dozen of them, observed carefully under various conditions. [Reminds me of Chemistry lab. :O]

Wah Ustad!

Ustad Zakir Hussain teaches Indian Music in Stanford. Last quarter, he had called for teaching assistants. My little sis PeeVee sent across her (music) resume. He liked it, called her for an interview, and selected her and two others as his teaching assistants.

And since we are a music-loving lot, the news of PeeVee being a TA to Zakir Hussain spread far and wide in family and friend circles, and she probably got more congratulatory calls for this than when she got an admission to Stanford!

So for three months, she interacted with the Ustad pretty closely. It is quite obvious to anybody who knows of his existence that his is a very charming personality, and according to P, he is a "genuinely nice person, very down to earth, light-hearted, friendly and affectionate. Goes out of his way to help everybody." Heart-warming!

Anyway, during this quarter, the Little One was born, and when she was about a week or two old, when we played music to her, she would go all silent and listen intently. When that part of the rendering began, in which the Tabla dominated, she used to go all round-eyed and would start beating her limbs non-stop. Well, it happened too many times to be a coincidence, and so we decided that she loved the Tabla. And since most of the music we played for her had Zakir Hussain's tabla, we jokingly concluded that she was a fan of Zakir Hussain's.

Well. On the last day of the music class at Stanford, Zakir Hussain, his wife and daughter took PeeVee and the other TAs out for dinner. PeeVee took a printout of one of the snaps of the Little One I had sent to her, took it to Zakir, and told him that this baby, her niece, was his youngest fan and could he please autograph it.

He was fascinated by the snap. (Says PeeVee). He took it in his hands, and said "Oh, what a beautiful baby... beautiful hands....look at her long fingers...touchwood.. touchwood...". Then he asked PeeVee for the Little One's name, and wrote out a little message on the snap, and autographed it.

PeeVee showed it to us through the webcam, and man, am I thrilled! :)

Why am I posting this almost two months later? Coz I have been waiting and waiting for PeeVee to take a snap of that autographed picture which is a printout of a snap that I sent to her and send it to me (confused you, didn't I?), so that I could put it up along with this post. But she is too lazy busy. So I am going ahead with it.

A conversation

I: Hey, Little One!
She: Ah-goo! *with toothless smile, saliva dripping down chin*

I: Ah-good morning to you too, Little One, how are you today?
She: Ahn-dray..

I: Ah'm dray-ned too... you cried and fussed so much last night... I was exhausted....I must look terrible this morning, don't I?
She: Uh-glee. *with a gurgle*

I: Ugly?? Hmph. All your doing, Little One. But seriously, what was bothering you last night?
She: Ooooo. *eyebrows arched*

I: Me? Hmph again. What on earth do I do with you?
She: Gloooo....

I: Glue? Great idea. I will glue your little lips together and your little hands and little legs and tie you up so that you can't do anything at all! Anyway, tell me, what's the plan for today?
She: Huh-geeee.. *With a sideways glance and fluttering eyelashes*

I: Okay sweetheart, first a bigggg huggie. There. Now let's get down to business. what would you like to do now?
She: Unga....greee...

I: Hungry? Okay! Let's have breakfast, come on!
She: Khoo!

Who says two-month-olds can't converse?

Warmth

Two sets of grandparents, one set of great-grandparents, two great-grandmothers, a horde of great and grand aunts and uncles, and an army of aunts and uncles. This is what the Little One has, and many of them have already come to see her and doted on her.

But ironically, her only immediate aunt and only immediate uncle have been missing. My little sis PeeVee is far away studying in the US, and doesn't have the time nor the money to fly back right now. S' "little" bro N was in the UK all this while on an assignment. So both of them weren't around when their niece was born.

PeeVee watches the Little One on the webcam and wails, "I can't touch her, I can't hold her, she doesn't even know her aunt is watching her, why should I undergo this torture? Turn the damn webcam off!" But she derived some kind of perverse satisfaction in the knowledge that N hadn't seen her either.

Now, N is back (and brought two large packs of Scottish Shortbread fingers for me, bless him), and he saw his little niece and outlined to me all the plans he has for the future to ensure that she turns into a brat and makes life miserable for S and me. Anyway, I felt strangely comforted that the Little One at last met her Chikkappa(Father's younger brother).

I was wondering how best to break the news to PeeVee that even N has seen the Little One, and she will be one of the last to see her.. But good news. PeeVee is on a high now, just having booked tickets back home for December.

Really, how life changes. PeeVee and I shared everything as kids. From cutting into perfect halves a tiny toffee, right up to dark secrets, we shared everything for a very very long time. Until I moved out for higher studies, six years ago. After that I moved out for a job, and then I got married and moved out. Still, I was close enough to home to show up every now and then. But now, she has moved out and is very far away.

And now, when she is living a few of the most productive and best years of her life, and I am having one of the most fascinating years of my life, we are not together to share our experiences with each other. Phone calls and emails just cannot do justice.

But really, all that matters is that I know she is always there, and that when she flies down in four months (Yippee!), not much would have changed.

Too senti. PeeVee, don't choke. ;)