Whose Maid?

She sat outside an examination hall where I was invigilating for the CA exams. We exchanged smiles. I was wondering what she was doing outside this examination. She was only a child-a child possibly not more than 8 or 9 years. Later, I saw that she was scribbling something on her notebook. On closer inspection I found that she was writing from the notes that the examinees had left outside. She saw me observing her and we just exchanged warm smiles. I got busy with the duty inside the examination hall and did not come out for the next about 30 minutes. It was 3.00 PM by the time I came outside. Sitting on the bench with her arm resting under her head on the desk, she was dozing in the warm breeze. I called out to the waterman to carry the child under a fan if she wanted to sleep. She woke up and smiled sheepishly at me, as if ashamed at having been found sleeping. "You want to sleep?" "Yes." I blinked at her and gestured to her to go to the little office, she smiled and we struck a chord immediately. She again smiled broadly and waved to me as the waterman led her to the small office where she could lie down for her siesta. About half an hour later, she was back, refreshed. She resumed her copying duties. This time, I went to her and asked her, "What is it that you are copying out?" "I don't know, I'm just copying for fun." "Its good," I said, "you are doing a good job. Keep it up." ... 'strategic management', 'overview' those were big words slipping through small fingers. But she was writing them down. "Did you come with someone?" "Yes, with ... Didi." "Is Didi in my room?" "Yes, there she is," She pointed to an overweight girl writing her exam. "You work for them?" "Yes" "Do you study?" "Yes, in class three" "Wow, you sure are intelligent. Can I take a picture of yours?" She grinned in response. I took her picture and showed it to her. She gave me a billion dollar smile. "Thank you" I said and patted her head.


I went in, resumed my duty. It was soon 4 PM, the exam was nearing the end. I was collecting the answer books. When I reached her didi, I asked, "That little girl is with you?" "Yes Ma'am, she is my maid." The bell rang and the examinees trooped out, chattering , free minded , for it was the last exam. The little girl was lost somewhere in that loud mayhem.

Her name is Poonam-Full Moon.

India, My India

It was in those days when parents could not hide the newspapers from us. It was in those days when we had hardly any distractions. It was then that YOU decided for me what course my teenage will take. You sent letters of open threat to my house, my parents, and my friends’ parents. We grew up in times of utter anarchy. We grew up looking at our 15-16 year old classmates dying horrible deaths as ‘those boys’ running for their dear life in the open fields of Punjab. As children, we were awed by the museums featuring the pictures of ‘boys’ yet unbearded and already garlanded in ‘encounters’. You decided when my friend’s father, who shaved his beard and lived without a turban, would die. You decided how much scare could I take before my father came home. You decided that I would cover my head when I go to school, would not visit a beauty parlour and will not get my hair cut. You decided who I would meet, how I would live-because it suited your plan of action, it suited your religious fundamentalism. You decided that my parents tell me about the ways to save myself if you or your mates happened to come hold me and my home at ransom. You decided that I live with a burning tyre around my neck for the rest of my life. You decided that I grow up hating India.

But,
I won’t allow you to corrupt my child’s mind.

“Mama, Is India unsafe?” “Mama, Should we be living here?”
“Why not child?” “India is our home. India is safe. Where do we live if not here?”

You WILL not decide for my child if her country is safe for her…
You will not gloat thinking she is having nightmares after watching the bare bloody footprints and shoes scattered in civilized wilderness.
She will watch Tom and Jerry for as long as she wants.
At least till she has children of her own.

NewPinch

Rasan has updated her blog. She had been asking me for long to put up a post. She had given me a handwritten page which I had misplaced somewhere. Today I found it among my papers, slaved for her, typed it out and put it up on her blog. It has only very minor editing and a couple of spellings corrected by me. I had to put it up because she had been accusing me of "making her lose her 'readers'." I was amused and loved to see her so concerned. After checking out that I was genuinely typing it out, she was assured that her post would go to her blog and then she slept peacefully. Now, I request all my friends-to go to her blog and give her some comment, even if it is a brief one. She would be delighted and it would make my day to see that gleam in her eyes.

Don't leave any comment here. It was just to inform you all.

:)

Jai's Worries-Yet Again

Jai one day discussed with his dad about how cars run. Then they talked about where people get petrol from. His dad told him that the petroleum is limited and that it might be finished one day. Now the little man is worried that the entire petroleum would be finished off the face of earth and we would be stranded in the middle of the road. I have been telling him that there can be an option of cars running on water, air pressure, nuclear energy, electricity etc. He wishes to know if someone has invented a way to run our car on anything except petrol/diesel.

Today, while I was going to drop them to school, he sat in the front seat-very serious, sombre and was in his thinking mode. Suddenly he checked the fuel indicator in the car and asked if we had enough diesel. Then in a totally matter-of-fact tone, he asked me, did someone invent/ discover something yesterday that could make this car run on anything except diesel/petrol. I did not know whether to smile or be worried at his worry.

The Monster Slayer

It was the beginning of the swimming season. Five days into it, and Jai and Rasan resumed their early morning swimming lessons when their exams finished. Jai did not want to go into the pool without Papa –his idol, his friend, his philosopher, his guide, bah! Rasan was to get into the big pool because she had already graduated from the ‘Training pool’ last year. We had even thrown an elaborate party in celebration of her “cap-change”. In case you don’t know, the beginners are required to wear red cap and once they graduate into the big pool, they can wear any colored cap. So, she had been into the big pool with a bang the previous season. But this season, she insisted, presumably for Jai’s sake, and I know for her own sake too (she found big pool too overwhelming this season I guess) that she would stay in the small pool for a day or two. I gestured her to move into the big pool because I was sure she would not be able to overcome her hesitation once she got too comfortable in the small pool. She grudgingly moved into the big pool and Jai, among other trainees was in the small pool. I had been keeping a hawk-mom’s (I am sure there are hawk-pops too) eye on both of them in their respective pools. These were the days before the submarine started invading the pool. After a while, Rasan started to do what the kids call “bubbling” and Jai was just busy splashing water but he was kind of morose with no Didi to share the little things with.

A little while later, I saw him come out of the pool. He was running towards me, sans his bath robe, shivering in the morning cool and running real fast. Before I could even start worrying, he was by my side. With his teeth chattering, he said, “Mama I am not going into the pool.” “Why, Bachhu?” I asked him. He said, “There is something in the pool.” “Something like what?” I thought he was making excuses to stop swimming already. “ Possibly a leaf, Mama” said he, vigorously nodding his head to convince me. In his Punjabi, it came out to be, “Shayad koi patta shatta hai,” And opened his eyes wider to convince me. I said, “Yes, Beta, with so much of wind today, the surrounding trees must have shed some leaves and one of them might have gotten into the pool.” He insisted, “Noooooo, the pool is dirty. There is something moving in it.” Now I know it is not, the managers of the pool change the water every now and then and I know there is a treatment plant working for these pools; and the season had just started. I tried to send him back. He refused to go. I planned to threat him with dire consequences, but gave up the idea before a tussle could ensue - with me coaxing him back into the water and he refusing to budge an inch and thus making a family show of extreme mushy-crushy love. I finally told him to go get his bathrobe from the peg and get into the washroom to change. I was angry with him. We both remained sullen and swollen faced. Finally Rasan finished her swim and came along. I did not talk to him all through the way because I had woken up at 5 am for God’s sake to take them to the pool, and all I was getting in return was a sulky kid complaining of funny things. During the day, however, we kissed and made up.

Next day, upon waking up, he categorically refused to get ready to go to the pool. I said, "Okay, at least come with us to the pool." Reluctant and suspicious that I would again ask him to get into the pool, he obliged upon the promise that he would not be forced to go the pool. I thought, we will cross the bridge when we come to it and laced the comment with Tere ta waddey waddey wi jaangey between my teeth. Off we went to the pool. I tried one last time. He put his little foot down, “No I am not going to the pool.” Rasan said, “Ok, I will go to the pool with you and see what’s the matter.” I didn’t like the idea because it gave Rasan a chance to avoid the big pool. But Majboori ka naam chota pool. Reaching upto her ears upon tiptoe, and very secretively he whispered, “Ok didi, I will also show you those sea monsters too.” She said, “Ok, I will see what’s bothering you.” I eavesdropped upon their conversation. And chuckled to myself, “Wow, SEA monsters in the swimming POOL! Only mera munda can invent them.” She got into the pool with him and remained with him and kept talking to him while he splashed. The coach came and found her swimming among the trainees and told her to shift the pool. She rarely gets into argument outside home. She did not try to disobey or explain. She moved out. Jai was again left alone but now he seemed to have come to terms with his monster buddies in the water. (He has never forgiven the coach since; and keeps calling him Khadoos with a double K) He now splashed water around, enjoyed himself and came out laughing. What sister-therapy Rasan gave him, I have no idea. But I am grateful she did.

Thank God for her. What would I do without my wonder girl, my super-heroine?


Cartoon courtesy-

http://www.quietmuse.net/images/wgirl.jpg

...TOOTH FAIRY

Rasan lost a milk-tooth today. Not that it is the first one, but it is surely the first when the tooth fairy won’t be visiting her. Ever since age 6 when she lost her first milk tooth, I have been faithfully acting the elusive fairy and placing a Canadian loony or a two-dollar coin from my forex residues. The excitement that accompanies the ritual cleaning of the tooth- before she places it under her pillow for the tooth fairy to find it spic and span and place an equally shiny coin in exchange for it - is simply endearing. She sleeps that night without fuss for I have told her that the tooth fairy visits you only when you are asleep. She even forces me to sleep early lest the fairy should turn back and not give her the promised coin. The shine in her eyes in the morning upon waking, in the anticipation of that coin is worth all the treasures in the world. The yell with which that coin comes back to me, and finally goes to her piggy bank is so innocent.

Tonight she asked me point blank, “Mama, hasn’t it been you all through, who used to put that coin?” This is not the first time that she has doubted it. Last month, when Jai lost his first tooth, she told him to clean it nicely and put it beneath his pillow so that the tooth fairy finds it worth exchanging for a dollar or two. And surely he found a two dollar coin beneath his pillow. Next morning, she expressed her doubt about me being the tooth fairy but I shoo-shooed it by turning my face away and saying no. But both my children are very particular about not taking a “hmm” for an answer and making me say out aloud what I want to say. Their pet line is “injh nahi, uchi bol ke dasso!” That is their way of ensuring that I don’t lie or try to put them off the track. Anyway, I tried to manage with a "hmm" thinking it was perhaps too early for her to lose that faith in fairies.

Coming back to her question tonight, I ignored it gently and concentrated on Mahesh’s incoming call. Finally the call had to end; she was awake still and repeated the question. I couldn’t lie tonight and said, “Okay, you want the truth? Yes, it has been me.” Thank god for the half-dark room. She bawled, “aaannnn, too bad.” So I went to the bed, lay next to her and explained why I went on doing it. Then I asked her, “Wouldn’t it have been rather good if you didn’t know the truth?” The rational being inside her spoke, “No, its okay, I suspected it. But now I am not feeling good that there is no tooth fairy.” “Well, with your new found knowledge, don’t you dare tell Jai the truth,” I warned. “Okay, I won’t baba,” said she, “but I feel like crying,”

Oww my baby, she is already feeling the heart-breaks as the childhood beliefs start to vanish. But she decisively said, “Okay Mama, don’t put any coin beneath my pillow today, lets see if the tooth fairy comes,” Is there still a trace of that fantasy in her mind? I wouldn’t want to kill it. “Right, I won’t. Lets see.”

And I won’t. For sure.

Perhaps I should…???

Questions And Answers

We are watching Sanjiv Bhaskar’s Journeys of India. Today he is showing Punjab. First he shows a Sikh wedding in a prominent Jalandhar marriage palace. Then he travels to the Indo Pak border at Wagah. The scene is complete with the blue attired coolies on the Indian side handing over the stuff to the coolies in red on the Pakistani side.

He travels to his home village and tries to find his ancestral home but it’s impossible for him to locate it. After all, the winds of change have swept over the Pakistani villages too.

His sentimentality is so well received among me and my children. Rasan is preparing her school bag for the next day. I am telling her to go brush her teeth. She is mesmerized by the similarity of the land, vegetation, the sunset and the sky that is common between the two countries.

She suddenly asks, “What is Lahore?”
“It’s a city in Punjab,” I say.
“Punjab?”
"Yes, there is a Punjab in the Pakistan too , and it was once a part of this Punjab.”
“Okay, that is where Nankana Sahib is, right?”
“Yes.”
“Cant they give it back to us?”
“No.”
“Why, its our land!”
“No, its no more ours. When the country was partitioned, it went to the Pakistani share.”
“Okay, so India and Pakistan fought?”
“No, not over Nankana Sahib.”
“Mama, when Dhesi mama (my mom, Dr Dhindsa) came to India, how old was she?”
“She was Jai’s age.”
“Oh, and how did she come?”
“She was brought with her family on a truck by my Bapuji.”
“Oh, and your dad?”
“Well he and his family had to travel by foot over to India.”
“Oh, and how did they manage? Did they have water?”
“Well I am not so sure; they probably didn’t carry water bottles in those days…”
“Did they have any money?”
“No, when you are asked to leave your house suddenly, I don’t think you can get hold of any money, right?”
“Why did they have to leave the house?”
Well, because the leaders said Sikhs and Hindus were in danger in Pakistan.”
“Why?”
“Because they said that Sikhs and Hindus had killed Muslims in India and the Muslims might like to have revenge, and they might kill Hindus and Sikhs in Pakistan.”
“They were lying, right mama?”
“Yes they were, partly.”
“So the people didn’t kill each other?”
“They did, but again that is because they were misguided by leaders.”
“What do leaders get out of it mama?”
“They like to know that they have power over people, and that people agree with what they say…”
.
.
Meantime she goes and brushes her teeth in between the commercial breaks. She comes back to announce,
“I hate England.”
“Why?”
“Because they divided India.”
“Well, they didn’t. Partly it was our own fault. We allowed them, so they could.”
“But they ruled over us. Why did they have to rule over us?”
“You like to mind your class, right? You like to be the monitor too, right? How would you like if you were told that everybody around you would agree with you and you will have immense power over your friends? Every body likes to be obeyed.”
“Well ruling people is different, ruling countries is not acceptable.”
“Yep, but that’s no reason to hate England, you don’t have to use the “hate” word, (Well, as a rule, my kids don’t use the phrase, “I hate”)
And I tuck her into her comforter…
.
.

“So what did your grandpa do, Mama?”
“Child, he was a farmer, but he died 5 years before partition.”
“Oh, what did your dad do then?”
“He had to rely on government scholarships.”
“Does government give money to study?”
“Yeah, to intelligent children who need it.”
,,,
,,,
,,,
And the conversation lulls her to sleep.

Everytime I visualize the scene of people abandoning their homes from this side, and from that side for ever with next to nothing with them, my throat is choked. And now my daughter’s too.
Are my children inheriting that pain, too?

Answering the simple questions is so hard sometimes.