Can't get it out of my mind.

This.

The end of an era.

Pt. Dinkar Kaikini passed away last week. He was one of the greats of Hindustani Music, and was also the father and Guru of my Guru.

He was elegant and dignified, stoic and assured. He had kind eyes, and a tiny smile was always playing on his lips. I was in awe of him in my younger days, but he always made me comfortable with an affectionate word.

His music - where do I start? Before I was introduced to his music, I had a number of albums by the more popular and well-known musicians. I listened to them with great enjoyment and reverence. But after hearing Pt.Kaikini's music, I started classifying those very albums as, to my horror, lounge music. I couldn't even bear to listen to some of those albums again!

But what is it about his music? It is profound and sincere. And very heavy. It's the real thing. It's magical, the way his voice wraps itself around some notes - guaranteed to move me to tears. Listening to some of his recordings is like meditating.

But that is not all there was to him. He was a composer too. Most of the compositions in Hindustani music are small - four-line compositions that form the base for the development of the Raaga. Unlike Carnatic Music, which is rich and brimming with elaborate compositions, Hindustani music doesn't lay much emphasis on the lyrics. But Pt.Kaikini's compositions are magnificent. Like my grandmother once observed, "I thought Hindustani music compositions are all about separation from the beloved, and the occasional prayer to God, but Pt.Dinkar Kaikini's compositions are something else."

Beautiful lyrics, wonderful meaning - about God, nature and philosophy. And not only that - the words themselves are so beautiful that you want to pop them in your mouth, roll them about with your tongue and savour them, if you know what I mean. He was a genius!

He was a music scholar - with immense knowledge about music. He was also well-known for his lecture-demonstrations.

I understand that his music might not have popular appeal. For that, I am all the more thankful that I have been fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to know his music, to have been given the resources to appreciate it and soak in it.

I've hardly met him ten times (he lived in Bombay), but the loss feels very personal.

Papeeha Once Again

There are a few old posts on which I keep getting comments and mails even now, mostly from people who land there via search engines. But no post generates as many mails as the one I wrote ages ago, about Sai Paranjpye's Papeeha.

Almost all the mails are similar - It was telecast on DD, I watched it and loved it, I haven't heard anything about it ever since - Do you have any idea if the CD/DVD is available?

When I wrote that piece, I had a completely different set of readers, and so I thought I'd link to it and see if any of you have something to say!

Eclipse!

Did you watch the eclipse? I did! It was beautiful. I have never seen the sun eclipsed so much (with my own eyes - from behind sun filters!). As Puttachi said, it looked like a "'C' in the sky."












What saddened me no end was that Puttachi and I were the only ones on our terrace, apart from another mother-daughter pair on the terrace of a neighbouring block. Out of the entire neighbourhood, only the four of us were eager enough to catch this fascinating event.

The rest, I am guessing, more out of false beliefs than out of disinterest, stayed inside.

I don't get it. Our ancestors didn't know what was happening. They had reason to believe that something evil was happening. But we are in 2010, for heavens' sake! We've been to the moon, we've been to space, we've photographed things from space - we know what is happening! Just that the moon has come between the earth and the sun! So why the fear? Why the fasting? Why the bathing? I am trying so hard to keep myself calm here, but indulge me a bit while I scream - IT IS RIDICULOUS!!!!

Puttachi and I went out into the eclipsed sun's rays, we ate during the eclipse, and we did not bathe after the eclipse, we did not offer prayers to propitiate anybody. And I am living, and hale and hearty, and writing this post. And this is not just us, everybody in my family has sat and eaten through a countless eclipses over the last 6 or 7 decades. Two of my aunts have gone out during eclipses when they were pregnant, and they have strong, healthy, intelligent sons.

What further proof can I give you? What else can I say? I know that there are some people who are "careful", you know, "Just in case". But think. The sun's rays are coming onto you. The moon blocks the rays for a while, and then moves away. What can possibly be the harm? It makes me want to cry.

Many people are trying to eradicate these silly superstitions, but is it really working? Rationalists do it, yes. But look at this. During the last eclipse, the seer of Murugarajendra Mutt of Chitradurga sat outside with his followers, and watched the eclipse, and even served food to them, and ate it himself, during the eclipse. (can't find the link to the report). During this eclipse, a couple got married at his Mutt!

I am your fan, Seer of Murugarajendra Mutt! We need more people like you! If people don't want to believe rationalists and scientists, at least I hope they will believe you spiritual leaders!

If you know Kannada, you might like to read this.












This post is too late for this eclipse, so I'll probably re-post it before the next eclipse. Please, people! Wake up and see the eclipse for what it really is!

Child-locking!

There was a Dennis the Menace cartoon in which Dennis' father was trying to open a medicine bottle, saying, "How do you open this child-proof bottle?" And Dennis walks in through the door, saying, "Lemme show ya!"

Not too far-fetched, I realized, when my then ten-year-old cousin taught his mother how to use the child-locking facility for TV channels, in their new TV set.

So it didn't really come as a complete surprise, when, after "helping" me load the washing machine, Puttachi reached out and tried to activate the child lock!

Children's story in Open Sesame

I'm mighty kicked right now. Deccan Herald's children's supplement, Open Sesame, has published my story today.

Just a simple story - tried writing for children for the first time.

The Terrible Twos

I would read of tantrums and meltdowns, and I would read about the Terrible Twos, and then I would look at my sweet-tempered child, shrug and leave it at that.

Serves my complacence right.

Overnight, Puttachi has transformed into this kicking, clawing, screaming little thing that I cannot recognize. I am just recovering from a 1 hour 15 minute session - and the issue? Taking off her frock.

Let's take off your frock
I'll do it myself
Ok
No, you take it off for me.
Ok.
No I'll do it.
Ok
I don't want to take off my frock.
Ok don't.
It's dirty. I want to take it off.
Ok take it off.
Take it off for me.
Ok, come here.
No, I won't.
Ok, come to me when you are ready.
I am ready.
Ok come.
No I am not ready.
Ok, whenever you are ready.
Take it off for me.
Ok, come here.
I won't.
Ok don't.
Help me take it off!
Ok, come here, I will help you.
I don't need any help.
Great, take it off yourself.
No I won't.

So basically this was going on in a loop for those 75 minutes. And all this while Puttachi was screaming at the top of her voice, and crying, tears streaming down her face, running up and down, kicking, occasionally clawing at me, hitting.

In the middle of all this, I was trying to distract her by singing silly songs, speaking in strange voices, jumping up and down, behaving like a clown - basically trying to get her to turn her attention to something else. I even tried leaving her alone to calm down, ignoring her, hugging her and speaking soothing things to calm her down, everything.

After about an hour, she was so tired, hungry and sleepy (she'd just got back from playschool) that she didn't even have the strength to cry.

Finally, I put on one of her fave rhymes on my laptop, and turned up the volume. She protested, asked me to switch it off, but gave in, and came to me, sat on my lap, kicked for a bit, then calmed down, and fell asleep on my chest.

Where has my sweet little girl gone? :D

Letting go

Being a good parent is all about letting go.

It can be heart-wrenching. But some part of you becomes stronger when you do it successfully.

Only after I became a mother did I understand my mother's apprehensions when allowing us to do something for the first time. Sending me alone to Mysore by bus for the first time. Seeing my sister off at the airport, when she was flying to the US, alone. Sending us to a friend's house, or on a picnic, or on a date, or to a party. Trusting the values they have given us, and trusting a third person to care for us. Each event is a bit of letting go - letting the child take an independent step ahead, to become the unique person s/he is.

With little kids, the instances are very tiny, but significant all the same. The first time I left a sleeping baby Puttachi at home, and went to the doctor for a post-natal checkup. The first time Puttachi stayed overnight away from me - even though I was leaving her at the hands of her loving grandparents, it was a kind of letting go. To relax and know that someone else is looking after her.

Putting her into the hands of someone totally unconnected, like leaving her at a playschool - that was a totally different ball game. But it had to be done, and it was, successfully.

And today, her school took her for a Nature Walk to Lalbagh. I was initially worried. Will they look after her? What if she runs away like toddlers so love to do? But I had seen first hand how the staff in her school look after the children. I knew I could trust them. So when I left her at the gate, and I saw her small figure walking through the gate with her teachers, tears welled up in my eyes. But I was so proud of my little girl, and so happy for her. Her eyes shining, her round face glowing with excitement, she waved at me as she went inside. And I knew that both of us had just taken a very big step.

And I know that this is just one of many, many of them.

Two and a Half

For all of you who complained that I don't give you enough Puttachi updates:

At 2.5 years, Puttachi is great fun. For one, living with her is like being in a musical. She sings all day long - mostly twisting songs, substituting words to suit the current situation. In effect, she sings parodies all day and laughs at her own jokes. She is constantly clowning around, and jumping around

She has learned this annoying habit of whining when things don't go her way. The only way I can get her to stop it is to pretend that I cannot make out anything she is saying when she is whining. Then, she puts on this artificial smile and asks me "nicely".

Another worrisome habit is that she is sticking to me a lot, protesting hotly when I am not around. I think it is just habit more than real unease.

She loves doing jigsaw puzzles. She did 4-6 pieces with ease, and I thought she was ready to move to bigger puzzles. But they didn't seem to interest her. Just then, S~'s nephew's Disney 24-piece jigsaw puzzle came down to her - and this one has giant pieces. And Puttachi could do it, with a little help at first. She can sit with it all day, making it, breaking it. So I realized that at this age, giant pieces are better.

Puttachi also loves alphabets. More than a year ago, S~ bought refrigerator alphabet magnets - when each alphabet is fitted into a slot on the main piece, it sings out the name of the alphabet, and the sound it makes. Since that was always on the refrigerator, she played with it often. Without our even realizing it, Puttachi started recognizing a few alphabets, and nearly six months ago, made me fall off her chair by recognizing A, B, O and V in the newspaper. She then discovered that my laptop has alphabet keys, and I let her carefully tap the keys and see the results on the monitor. I made her type her name a few times, and voila, she started recognizing all those letters. Now, any printed material she gets, she tries and picks out the letters of her name from it. It is great fun to watch her - and a pleasant surprise too, because it came about by itself.

She loves to play with clay, and she loves books. Oh, and yes, I hadn't been speaking to her much in English before this, but after she started going to the Montessori and picking up English, I have started telling her stories in both English and Kannada, one after the other. I read a sentence in my mind, tell it to her in Kannada, and then read it in English, stopping to explain one word or the other. She is now picking up English so quickly that it surprises me. She supplies the English words for Kannada words without my asking her, and any thing she hears, or any English rhyme that she learns, she comes to me and asks me to explain it to her.

A mandatory visit to the park every evening helps in satisfying her urge to run around, (and my urge to be around people) - and both of us come back happy.

This age, I have realized, is one where they are tremendously curious, and eager to learn. And the more we stimulate them, the happier they are!

At the montessori house

I never thought it would happen - but it did. I drop Puttachi at her Montessori school and she stays there happily, and I pick her up at the end of the day!

Up-side: I get a lot of work done in the morning, I can put my feet up, drink a 10 30 cup of tea...
Down-side: I haven't read a word of any book since Monday!

How the transition happened:

Groundwork: As I had told you before, I had been sitting outside at the school for quite a long time, and I knew for sure that Puttachi was entirely comfortable. I had a talk with the head of the school last Friday, and she agreed with me that it was time to try and leave Puttachi alone at school. She told me that they would try and distract and engage Puttachi if she cried, but warned me that if she became uncontrollable, they would call me back.

After we got back home, last Friday, I casually dropped the idea to Puttachi that I would leave her at school and come home, starting Monday. I used the words "When I leave you at school...." I used it often when speaking to S~ too, in a matter-of-fact tone, until I was certain that Puttachi had understood what was to come. I also told her that I would come back home and make Kesaribhath for her. (She doesn't even like Kesaribhath, she just has a fancy for it.)

Yet, inspite of all this, I had nightmares about Puttachi bawling and me walking away. I wondered if I could go through with it - and I nearly backed out at the last moment.

What happened on Monday: I set out the ingredients of Kesaribhath on the kitchen counter and showed it to Puttachi, telling her htat I would make it after I left her at school, and she accepted it calmly.

While I was locking the door while leaving for school, she said, "Amma, don't leave me!"
I looked at her questioningly, she clarified, "I meant, don't leave me at home and go, but you can leave me at the montessori and come back."

I took it as a good sign. when we got to the school, I opened the gate and started walking in, when she said, "Oh, are you coming inside? I thought you would leave me at the gate." My jaw dropped.

When we went in and I found the teachers, I said, "Ok, Puttachi, bye," as she started going inside. She suddenly stopped and turned. "Wait, Amma!"
"Yes?" I said, thinking, "Uh oh!"
But she said, "I want to hug you!"
She hugged me, kissed me on each cheek, and said, "Ok, bye, thank you, go home, come back later, ok?" And she bounded in without a backward glance.

I could have screamed for joy. We had actually done it without making her cry!

I am hoping that now that she is used to the idea of going to a school, leaving her at the big school will also be easy. If that can also be accomplished without too many tears, nothing like it.

Still to go: Puttachi is not very comfortable with the last activity of the day - sitting in a group and learning songs. Though she loves songs, something about that setup bothers her - she would cry even during the time I was sitting there. And she continues that even now. So I have to go half an hour early, just at the moment that she starts getting jittery.

Let's see how we overcome this little hurdle! :)

Shruthi's law of parenting - 2

Just like in life, nothing is constant in the world of parenting.

Though Puttachi started staying at school by herself from Monday, I resisted telling you about it, wanting to give it some time, making sure that it was indeed working. So I waited until today to put up a post about it.

Two minutes after I clicked on "Publish" on the previous post, I got a call from her school telling me that she was crying uncontrollably, and asking me to pick her up.

It could be because she was sleepy (she woke up very early), but whatever the reason, she did cry.

So there goes my brain again - how will Monday be?

Big School

And along with the lookout for a suitable playhome, the hunt for the perfect Big School was happening too. I had done a bit of research and shortlisted two schols X and Y as being suitable. (Teaching, teaching methods, values, distance, etc being the criteria.) I made the necessary enquiries and applied to both the schools. I also applied to school Z because it is a traditionally sought after school ;)

Puttachi gained admission in school Z first, but since that wasn't our preference, we waited.

Schools X and Y balanced out kind of evenly, and I would probably have been in a fix if we had heard from both of them at the same time. But as it happened, school X contacted us first, took a 1-minute interview in which Puttachi was in her element, and got back to us the next day to tell us that Puttachi was through.

So I made some more inquiries, talked to parents with children studying in the school, and came to the conclusion that this school is probably best suited to what we want for Puttachi, and so today we paid the fees, and she is in.

So there you go! My little baby will go to a Big School starting this June.

School Time!

And so, that was the longest break that I have ever taken from blogging. Wasn't intentional, no.

So what's been happening? A lot, actually. For one, Puttachi's been going to a Montessori centre. I wasn't really very keen on sending her to school before she turned three. But there was only so much I could do for her - I felt she needed more stimulation than I could provide. Empty, directionless mornings made her very restless and we decided that she ought to go to school. She has just turned 2 and a half, by the way.

So I scouted around a bit for good playhomes in our area, and zeroed in on this one for many reasons. (You can write to me if you need to know what to look for while selecting a playhome/playschool. I will tell you what little I know.) One of the many nice things about this place is that you can go and sit there for as long as you want, as many days as you want, until the child is comfortable. That appealed to me.

The first week was great - she went, was absorbed in play, and it looked like it would just need another week until the time Puttachi would walk in, wave goodbye to me and disappear inside without a backward glance. But just then, both Puttachi and I fell sick with this really strong viral flu that had us out of circulation for two weeks. So when I took her back to school after two weeks, she clung to me, and refused to even go inside. At home, she would say that she wanted to go, but once there, she stuck to me. The teachers told me that this behaviour was quite normal after a break, especially when it was due to illness. I persisted, and I go and sit there for all the three hours.

It has paid off. She is now comfortable, is interacting with the other kids and is doing much of her work herself. The only problem is that she still wants me around. She even comes out from time to time to check if I am sitting outside. The teacher has assured me that a day will come very soon when she herself will tell me to go home. I am waiting. But meanwhile, I finish my cooking in a rush in the morning and I go and sit at that montessori centre and read for three glorious, uninterrupted hours.

You can expect many book reviews shortly!

Heaven is...

- Snuggling under a blanket with a sleepy, soft, warm and fragrant toddler on a cold, wet afternoon.
- Falling into a long, deep and unplanned sleep, holding the toddler, and the toddler holding you.
- Waking up suddenly, and realizing that the unexpected nap has refreshed and rejuvenated you, rather than making you grouchy and cranky as such naps tend to.
- Realizing, lying there, that a pair of bright, shining, smiling eyes is watching you, two inches from your face, and a small, soft hand is patting your cheek and stroking your hair.

My heart is full.

Puttachi at 2 years and 4 months.

New kind of questions that I cannot answer:

She: *pointing to a picture* Amma, is this tiger crying?
Me: No, it is not.
She: Why is it not crying?

She: Amma, are your spectacles broken?
Me: No, they are not.
She: Why are they not broken?

I wonder if there is something deeper behind those questions!

*****

She wants to know who everybody's mother is. Including animals, ants, plants, even stars. But to test her, if I ask her who is the chair's mother, for instance, she answers haughtily that chairs don't have mothers.

*****

She: Amma, I want the moon.
Me: Huh?
She: The moon. Please get the moon for me.
Me: How shall I get it?
She: Go to the sky, and bring it down.
Me: What will you do with it?
She: *makes a gesture of rocking a ball* I will play with it.

Kids these days, I tell you - they ask for the moon!

*****

She loves dressing up. Her favourite past-time is putting on clothes. One on top of another. Drop in on a surprise visit, and you can see her dressed in various articles of clothing from socks to gloves to mufflers and bibs and scarves and pyjamas and sweaters and caps and necklaces and bracelets and ribbons and clips - ALL AT THE SAME TIME. She has a particular fascination for articles of clothing that she can no longer fit into. If you need her to wear something, tell her that she used to wear it as a child!

*****

She has discovered a sense of humour. She gets a huge kick out of inserting her own words in familiar rhymes or stories. For example, she says, "Twinkle Twinkle Little Amma!" Then pauses for effect, before bursting into helpless laughter. She can and does do this all day. Or twists a word, or puts in a nonsense word, or puts in an extra word into songs, and enjoys the joke immensely. She loves it even more if I join in and add my own nonsense words.

*****

I had read so much about kids being afraid of monsters under the bed or in the closet, and I had never paid too much attention to it, because of a vague observation that no kid I knew seemed to have such fears. But yesterday, while I was putting Puttachi to bed, she got up abruptly from her crib, and crept towards my bed (which is attached to her crib).

Me: What happened, Puttachi?
She: *pointing towards the other side of the crib* Shoorpanakha (a demoness) is sitting there.

In the articles that spoke about this fear, I had understood that the response to this should not be something like, "Where? There is nothing there, dear, see? Go to sleep." Apparently, it not only trivializes the child's fears, but also does nothing to remove the fear. Kids at this age have such an active imagination that they truly believe that a demon or monster or a scary being is sitting there. So I employed this approach.

Me: Oh, Shoorpanakha? *looking at where Puttachi was pointing* Hey Shoorpanakha, what is wrong with you? Why do you want to disturb Puttachi when she is trying to sleep? Do you know how strong she is? Go, go, go away, don't come back! *Looking back at Puttachi* See, Shoorpanakha got scared! She is flying out of the window!
And that was enough for her. Puttachi smiled triumphantly and went back to bed.

*****

Speaking about imagination, Puttachi's is in overdrive. She gets so immersed in play-acting that there is nothing one can do when she is involved in it. Nothing can break her concentration, and she forgets hunger, sleep, and sometimes, she can't even hear nature's call! She burst into horrified tears when I accidentally sat on a "baby" that she had placed on the sofa, and she looked on with pride when I picked and ate "fruits" from a "tree" that she had watered and grown.

Even her dreams seem to be pretty graphic. Yesterday she woke up in the middle of her nap, told me something in garbled diction, and then laboriously dusted her pillow for two minutes before she fell asleep again. She wakes up sometimes, telling me something seriously about someone or something, and then handing over "something" to me before going back to sleep.

I find it utterly fascinating to wonder what goes on in that head of hers!

*****

She is a fun child, and a funny child. And backbreaking as it might be caring for her, there never is a dull moment.

To travel without an itinerary - and Books

When I was younger, and was at that age and stage where I was convinced that I would one day hold the world in the palm of my hand, I dreamed of just setting out with a backpack and going around the world as my fancy took me. I would visit one place, and then go to the bus/railway station/airport, look at all the destinations, and take off to whichever destination caught my eye. And I would stay there as long as I wanted to before taking off yet again.

This dream hasn't died yet - it has just been put on the back burner, the die hard optimist that I am. I am now reading a travel book, by Bill Bryson, called "Neither here nor there" about his travels in Europe, in which this is exactly what he does. Goes where his impulse takes him. He starts off with going to the northernmost part of Norway to see the Northern Lights - one of my greatest ambitions too. And oh, I have been travelling with Bryson in a way that I hadn't employed before. When he talks about a city, or a building or a museum, I immediately look it up on Google, and view the pics and read more about it, and there you go - I am travelling too!

By the way, before reading this book, I read one more book of his, "Mother Tongue", where Bryson traces the development of the English language, what influenced it, and how it came to be as we know it now. And with that, I understand most of the idiosyncrasies of the language. The illogical spellings, the weird pronunciations, etc. Inspired, I asked my grandfather in Mysore for a similar book in Kannada, and he gave me one to read, a part of "Kannada Kaipidi" series by Kuvempu. That was fascinating too, but I had to stop in the middle. I am looking forward to continuing on my next visit to Mysore.

While on the subject of books, I was recently introduced to the works of L.M.Montgomery by my friend M, who also fed and fanned my urge to read more and more of them. I absolutely love discovering new (to me!) writers.

Another fascinating book I read was "Survival of the Sickest" by Sharon Moalem. I recommend it.

Ah, books and travelling - if only I had a million dollars......

A wedding on the cards?

I am telling Puttachi the story of little Shruthi and little S~, and their exploits, and how they grew up and got married and got a little baby. I have reached the point where Shruthi and S~ have got married.

Puttachi: Papa and you got married?
Me: Yes, Puttachi.
She: Like X and Y?
Me: Yes, dear.
She stares off into space, and I allow her to digest the information or try and visualize the scene or however it is that two-year-olds process shocking information.
After a while.
She: Amma, but I did not attend!
Me: Yes, mari, you were not born yet.
She: (getting teary-eyed) But Amma, I want to attend!
Me: But the wedding is over, baby, wait, I will show you the snaps.
She: I don't want to see the snaps, I want to go to your wedding! (She stands up and pulls my hand) Amma, take me to yours and Papa's wedding!

What say, S~, time to renew our vows? A good reason to go on a second honeymoon, at least! :D

Storytime

I cannot believe that there was a time when Puttachi did not understand stories. The days now are so filled with stories for every occasion that it makes my head go round. She demands stories during mealtime, bedtime.. and err.. even pottytime.

There is no dearth of stories in the world. But there is a major problem. She cannot bear songs and rhymes and stories in which something unpleasant happens to the characters. Humpty Dumpty, for example, makes her cry. Now tell me, what choice do I have? All our mythological tales and Panchatantra and Jataka and even fairy tales have stories of beings eating each other up or hurting or killing or mauling or lying or cheating - I had never realized how much violence there is in children's tales.

So I usually give her a sanitized version of everything. For example, the story of Three Little Pigs doesn't have the Big Bad Wolf falling into the boiling cauldron at the end. In my story, the wolf just gives up and runs away.

But how long can I shield her from harsh realities? I plunged into the story of the Ramayana - and there is enough killing and mutilating there for starters! After the first time I told her the entire story, the only thing she remembered in the end was, "Shoorpanakha is a bad Rakshasi and her nose and ears got cut off!"

But she doesn't care too much about the Ramayana. All she wants are "Pooh" stories. Which means that I have to make up stories with Pooh as the central character. This works for both of us. I can insert little suggestions into the stories like "Pooh ate his food without any fuss, and that is why he is so strong" or "Pooh went to the dentist with toothache and the dentist told Pooh to brush twice a day like Puttachi - see how strong and clean her teeth are!"

So Pooh stories suit me, and that is the only way to get her undivided attention during mealtimes. But of course the problem with made up stories is that when you repeat the story, you unconsciously change some details, and the child catches you immediately, berating you for not remembering the story. And oh, it is lovely to hear her tell the story in her own words. She narrates it with expressions in her face and voice, employing a sad face and voice for "Ayyooo my ball fell into the lake" and a happy face and voice for "Yay! Thank you, crocodile, for getting my ball back from the lake!"

The other category of stories she likes are "Stories of Puttachi when she was a baby." My baby has grown so much that I am already telling her stories of her babyhood!

This time of my own....

It has been more than two years since Puttachi was born, and she has never stayed away from me overnight. A few hours, yes, eight hours being the longest time she has been away from me. But yesterday, my parents took her home with them.

I am getting glowing reports. She is no trouble at all, everything is hunky-dory. She is enjoying herself thoroughly - and not once has she even mentioned me! I tried to get her to talk to me on the phone - but she was too busy listening to stories that my mother was telling her about Peevee and me.

As for me, I am feeling very weird. In the night, it seemed strange to not feel the steady, heavy breathing on the crib next to my bed. I missed the little hand, soft and warm, creeping up towards mine to hold the ring on my finger. But I welcomed the rare undisturbed sleep.

For about twenty minutes this morning, I couldn't think of what to do at all and felt uneasy and restless. Then I slapped my forehead, exclaimed, "Carpe diem!" and am relishing this time of my own.

Until tomorrow, then...

Update at 1:25 PM: So much for seizing the day. I am bored stiff, and am feeling so lazy that I don't feel like moving a limb to do all those things I had planned.

Update at 3 PM: I was so bored that I had a nap. I have stopped having naps after Puttachi was born (unless I am tired) because I think them a waste of precious time.

How ironic! When Puttachi is around, I feel like snatching a little time for myself all the time, and now that she is nice and safe and happy in mom's hands, I have all the time to do everything, but I absolutely cannot get myself to move.

I simply must stop these twitter-like updates and do something. Ta.

P.S. Aaaaargh!!

Questions, questions, and questions...

I had heard and read about the phase of questioning. Why, how, what, who, where... but I had no idea it would be this irksome.

Puttachi is full of questions and that gets unbearable at times. The chain of questions can go and on and on, and neverending.

She: What is that?
Me: Shirt
She: Whose shirt?
Me: Papa's shirt
She: Who bought it?
Me: I did.
She: From which shop?
Me: XYZ shop
She: Where is XYZ shop?
Me: Jayanagar
She: Which Jayanagar?
Me: Jayanagar where so-and-so lives.
She: Who so-and-so?

And on and on on.

Nowadays, after one question, I do the questioning and answering myself.

She: What is that?
Me: Shampoo whose shampoo Papa's shampoo which shampoo XYZ shampoo who bought it Papa bought it which shop ABC shop ....
And then she looks at me and laughs, the imp.

She likes asking questions for which she knows the answer.
She: (pointing to a picture of Obama) Who is that?
Me: Tell me yourself.
She: Obama.
This happens all the time.

Some questions have no answer.

Me: Come on, let's have lunch.
She: What lunch?
Me: Rice and huLi
She: Which huLi
Me: pumpkin huLi
She: How?
Me: Now how what?

or

She: Who had called you?
Me: Papa
She: Which Papa?

I think that she feels compelled to ask questions - she doesn't even know what she is asking sometimes.

And then she wants entire conversations repeated.

Me: Let's take off your frock.
She: I don't want to.
Me: But it's dirty. Let's wear another frock.
She: Ok.
After two seconds.
She: What did Amma say?
Me: Amma said, "Take off your frock".
She: Then what did Puttachi say?
Me: Puttachi said, "I don't want to."
She: Then what did Amma say?

And so on. I used to answer patiently in the beginning, repeating the whole conversation, but now I ask her to repeat it herself, and she does.

Oh and one more thing. She thinks I am omniscient. She doesn't understand that I might not know the answers to some things.

Check out this example.

She: *Eating a bun* Who made this?
Me: It is from the bakery.
She: But who made it?
Me: I don't know, mari.
She: Who made it?
Me: I don't know.
She: Who made it?
Me: I really don't know, Puttachi.
She: Amma, amma, tell me amma, who made it, amma?
Me: An uncle made it.
She: Which uncle?
Me: I don't know.
She: Which uncle?
Me: I don't know, dear.
She: What is his name, Amma?
Me: I have no idea, baby.
She: Amma, amma, what is the name of the uncle who made this bun?
Me: Ramesh Uncle (blurt out the first name that comes to mind.)
She: Where is he?
Me: He finished making the bun, went to his house in Malleshwaram, placed his head on his pillow and fell fast asleep.
(Triumphantly giving myself a five, thinking that that should do the trick.)
She: (After a moment) How?

You get the picture.