KIDS@WORK

It Takes a Village

2007-12-25T02:33:00.000-05:00

If it came down to a single book, a single book that transformed my reading experience, I'd pick Anita Desai's riveting 'The Village by the Sea.'

Many years ago, this book did it for me. When I spotted the book in the Page One bookstore at Vivocity, I was tempted to look for the buyer to congratulate him/her on their excellent taste.

There were two copies. I bought one. This year, Aneesha gets it as her Christmas gift. It might not change everything for her instantly but I know someday, she'll have to thank Anita Desai for it. Should this form of communication still exist, perhaps this note might end up being that useful reminder.

Dream A Little Dream

2007-12-25T02:13:00.000-05:00

For 8 years she believed it.

You clean up the house, scrub your room, say your prayers, be kind to everyone, then wish upon a dream.

Like Lakshmi for Diwali, there was Santa for Christmas.

It was a lovely little dream.

On 24th December, they prayed just a little too hard.

The eyes would be wide shut, the prayers that note louder. It was the night of the presents. Windows would be opened.

"We have to make it easy for Santa and his helpers. He has to go and visit many children," Aneesha would remind her brother.

At the stroke of the midnight hour, I'd hurry on with the presents, change my straight writing to a slanting one, write in the cards and sign them off Yours Santa.

Each year as I set the presents side by side - one for Dhruv, one for Aneesha, I'd wonder if this would spell the end of the Santa myth.

Last night, it felt this year would be it.

It all started with Dhruv's hot wheels.

"How did Santa know?"

He can read your mind, I offered.

"But you went back to Vivocity last night, Dhruv showed you the Hot Wheels. Are you Santa."

I hmmmed and haaawed and in that instant it was over.

"All these years, you and Daddy were Santa! Why didn't you tell us? I love you."

In that instant all the secrecy, the hiding of the presents, the myth of Santa, it all made our little cat and mouse game well worth it.

Next year, I hope we still have a little room left for Santa.

Taking My Word Literally

2007-12-17T07:47:00.000-05:00

They do end up with a book after sleep....

The Way We Were

2007-12-05T00:15:00.000-05:00

Imagine

2007-10-15T16:40:00.000-05:00

"Let's not read a story today, let's use our imagination."
"Ee-mah-gee-nation."
"Yes, Imagination."
"I can't use Ee-mah-gee-nation today, I can only use it on Friday."
"Why's that?"
"Coz story time in school is on Friday and teacher tells us we must Ee-mah-gin."
"Ok, then let's Imagine today is Friday."
"Ok, I'm Ee-mah-gin-ing it's Friday."
"You tell me the story."
"No, let's tell it together."
It happened last night, a night of infinite fun.

I had a dog named Grumpallow, Dhruv imagined and created a boy named Groovie Droovie (that's what I call him often) and we began.....

THE STORY
Groovie Droovie lived in a little house on the hill.

The little house had very little room.

Groovie Droovie had too many toy cars that his mother always told him to pack up.

He loved his cars but he also loved dogs.

One day Groovie Droovie asked his mother if he could get a dog.

"A dog is not a stuffed toy or a car," his mother told him.

"Yes, Mamma," he said, "a dog needs to eat, a dog needs love just like me."

"If you can promise, you will give that to your dog, you will be kind to him, you'll love him forever, we'll look for one."

"Yes, I will," Groovie Droovie said.

Mamma promised to take him to a pet shop to look for a dog.

When they went there, Groovie Droovie was confused.

There were so many of them. Big dogs, small dogs, happy dogs, angry dogs.

And one really grumpy dog.

Groovie Droovie looked at the grumpy dog and started making his funny faces.

The grumpy dog didn't respond.

Groovie Droovie didn't stop.

"Mamma if we called him something, would he be happy?"

"We could try," Mamma said.

"Let's call this grumpy fella - Grumpallow."

"Yeah, Grumpallow," an excited Groovie Droovie said.

"Good Morning Grumpallow," he said.

Frown.

"How are you?"

Frown.

"Would you like to come and see my home?"

Frown.

"I have lots of cars."

Frown.

"Eeem, I have lots of juice you can share."

Frown.

"What about carrots? I love carrots or I can give you some cheese."

Frown.

"Do you really want him?" Mamma asked again.

"Yes, yes, yes," Groovie Droovie said before breaking into a little song and dance.

They took Grumpallow home.

Groovie Droovie made a little bed for him with his favourite teddy bear quilt.

He gave Grumpallow his favourite teddy bear.

Then he helped Mamma make some dog food for Grumpallo.

The next morning Grumpallow woke up and gave Groovie Droovie the first of many smiles.

THEE END

(I would love to take credit for this but I've had nothing to do with it. I'm pretty certain it's all the wonderful sessions Dhruv attended with his sis Aneesha at the Ubud Writers Festival that helped. And I can see a lot of Jin Pyn's undying love for animals showing up in this tale. There are touches of Kirsty Murray. Even though Dhruv didn't make it for that workshop, his sis has been heavily into character building since. And all those puppets keep springing to life with or without a tale. The thing about lit fests - their stories speak for themselves.)

Attempting to pen a tale or more?

At the Festival Opening

Happy, Happy, Happy

2007-10-07T05:16:00.000-05:00

All it takes is another birthday and a party to make us feel this a way.....
We aren't too sure about Dad though....

UBUD WITH THE KIDS

2007-10-07T04:16:00.001-05:00

We were very, very busy at Ubud.

I had my sessions, the kids had their workshops. And there were plenty.

In a telling statement, Aneesha said "I need a break" and took a day off during the festival only to emerge re-energised for Kirsty's session.

There she created a character all of 10, a journalist who read a lot of books, who sounded a lot like me albeit with long black hair.

When I asked if I was her inspiration, if not her guide, she responded:
"No, your hair is brown, orange and white."

Considering it was uttered in the presence of an award-winning author, I can already see the line travel.

There were several other Aneesha moments, which found their way to my sessions. It was great fun all round.

Dhruv made it to record books by repeating family history by burning his leg courtesy the motor-bike silencer. Since Nick was missing this time round, he kept his clothes on. Though, we never did get another invite from Dirty Duck. No, we didn't mind the slight, we soaked in all of Casa Luna's nuggets and drank all the orange juice we could. And before we packed our bags, we did what good tourists do - take the stroll down Monkey Forest Road, shop at the Pasar, hang out at Casa Luna and return with more than a bagful of tales. Interested?

Dhruv & I

2007-10-07T01:18:00.000-05:00

In our Mac glory....
so Aneesha says....

Picture Profile

2007-09-09T18:17:00.000-05:00

How Did You Know?

2007-08-12T21:29:00.000-05:00

It was a Rush of Red.

The bottle looked the same, it was positioned right there the way it should be on the dresser. Not an angle misplaced. Yet the whiff was there.

I asked if she'd been tinkering with it.

"No," she said, "see nothing has moved."

I could see that, I told her.

She moved away, forgetting she'd soon have to walk back again. There it was, another Rush.

Then she told me, she'd a little spray.

How did you know, she wondered more than a little amazed.

Facts would have worked, yet fact-ion sounds better.

Mothers, I reminded her have eyes. When you don't eat, they know it. When you haven't finished your homework, they know it. When you've been naughty, they know it. When your grades are slipping, they know it. When you are hungry, they know exactly what you want. They can read your mind all the time. They are like your second skin. Often you don't even notice them till they are gone.

"Really?" she asked her eyes opening in wondrous excitement.

"Mothers are like skin. Do they get hurt when we do?"

Yes, they can feel those stitches bringing your lashes closer, they feel that graze on your knee, they hurt when you bleed.

"Then why do mothers like to scold children all the time?"

Not all the time. Mothers are strict, they have to be, they only want the best for you.

"Did your mother scold you?"

Scolding was nothing. Caning it was for us.

"But you don't cane us."

Never will, never can for a moment. It was years ago, yet I can still feel the pain. I'd much rather spare the rod and hopefully not scar my child.

Splish, Splash

2007-08-12T21:22:00.001-05:00

She wanted a splash at 8, a splash was what she got.

All coloured, all enticing, urging you to quickly bite into it. It was looked like the cake was meant for two and the presence of her best pal, sure made it seem that way. When it comes to friends, a thank you just isn't enough. So the pictures will have to do....

What Was She Thinking?

2007-08-12T20:30:00.000-05:00

On the day she turned 8....
A cake....
Some candles....
Some prezzies....
Some friends....
Some fun-filled bubbles....
Some blocks and crosses....
Or was it mere thoughts of stepping into another year?
Clip Art holds some answers....

The Clouds, Sand & Sea

2007-07-22T18:49:00.000-05:00

There was a time, long, long, long ago, when the thought of Goa would see us head out for a rail journey, with a stop in Bombay thrown in for good measure. Then we'd try to get some bus tickets, pleading for the dates we needed. When we finally got those, we'd head out for a leg cramping vacation by the sea.

Often, we've been tempted to relive those moments. Well, not the leg cramping bits. We came this close to it, when airline routes to the enticing destination were announced earlier this year. We'd mentally packed our bags. As that thing goes, about best laid plans.

Then this arrived. And I thought yet again of Goa - sand, surf, clouds. Glad, my lovely sis-in-law Jaya could squeeze in a holiday even though we couldn't.

Guess, what it does take to get there are pictures of perfection.....

On Racial Harmony Day

2007-07-22T18:45:00.000-05:00

He grins and wears it.
He likes the feel of the soft silk.
It's nice, he tells me.
His teacher loves it, so he says.
As do his friends, so I believe.
When it's time to head sleep, he still wants to feel like the little emperor that he is.
I knew there was something to it....

Click & Away

2007-07-22T18:34:00.000-05:00

You coo into their ears....
Baba, look, look there....
Baba, see the camera is there....

You get one happy one to do a little dance....
They end up dancing in the wrong spot....

The eyes are fixed....
For a moment you think you have the shot....
That's when they choose to look away....

Thank goodness for perfect frames...

PS: It is moment like these that I shall treasure the most. It's turning out to be a year when some of my closest pals are packing their bags for greener/greyer/colder/better shores. I view these moments with more than the usual tinge of regret. As I've often said, it gets harder to make friends as you age. But when you've got to go, you've got go. So, here's wishing our dear pals Adity, Vineet and our kids' dear pals Arnaav and Viraj, the very best. Do I even need to say it - you shall all be missed.

The Company of Friends

2007-07-22T18:30:00.000-05:00

Makes every moment special....
Whether it is playing....
Sparring....
Jumping....
Running....
Falling....
Or even indulging in simple pleasures, like eating....

Shak-a-Tale

2007-07-18T21:47:00.000-05:00

Mamma, you remember the shark?
No.

Remember in Sri Lanka.
Sri Lanka? You only played on the beach there.

Ahhhh, Ummmm, not Sri Lanka?
Not Sri Lanka?

Then where?
Australia, I think, maybe Byron Bay.

Yes, Ozztraylia.
Didn't you see whales there?

No, no it was a shark. A very big one. See my hand. Like this.

Oh!
Not a whale?

No, shark, shark, big shark.
What did it do?

It jumped like this, then like that.
THEN?

Then it jumped over our ship.
Ship? Wasn't it a boat?

No, it was a ship.
Ok, it was a ship, then what did it do?

It jumped and jumped, then turned our ship.
Goodness, you fell into the water. Did you?

YES!
Then what happened?

Then we started swimming.
But you can barely float.

I was swimming, Daddy was swimming, Diddi was swimming.
Really?

Then the ambulance came. The shark was behind us.
The shark was behind you and the ambulance in front, what happened?

The shark opened the big, big mouth then we were inside it.
Oh no, I am so scared!

Then the doctor came, he opened the shark's mouth.
WOW!

He opened the mouth, then he pulled us out, we were inside ambulance and we went to hospital.
And then you were alright?
Yes, Mamma see me now, I can swim the sharks.

Dhruv, did it really happen, now?
Yes, Mamma, shall I tell you again?

Sleepathon

2007-07-18T20:58:00.000-05:00

There was a time long, long ago when text made it to your sleep.

You studied in your thoughts, you studied in your sleep.

I walked with my books to knock off sleep. They tell me I walked till I slept book in hand, resting my shoulder against the pillar that was behind the statue that blessed us all before the exams.

My lovely little sis made me spicy sauce ki namkin (a hostel special) to ensure hunger pangs didn't strike when studying mattered most.

The nuns, brought us our warm glasses of milk on the dot - 9:30pm. A little bit more to go, they gently reminded us as we crammed our heads with History, Geography, Literature, Science, Hindi and a whole lot more.

You know the exams were upon you, when you looked at all the sleep deprived eyes around you, when the desperate prayers of help began, when the girl on the bed next to yours started talking text in her sleep.

You never imagined that life would come full circle and the deprived sleep pattern would be back again. Last night, as we put the final touches to Aneesha's exam bags, which took no longer than five minutes in the room next door, we came back to see Dhruv crashed on the table and there was something going on his sleep.....

Get Ready For The Boys

2007-07-16T21:36:00.000-05:00

What about the boys, you say.

They cut a pretty picture too, in their own special way. They like to grab those seats, shout out loud, do a jungle dance when they see each other and pine for each other's cars.

Aashish has that effect on Dhruv, which is why this shot taken at his fourth birthday should come as no surprise:

Which is why, it's important to get the birthday boy back into the frame. Luckily for us, McDonald's knew chairs like these should have space for two.....

They've Got The Look

2007-07-16T21:32:00.000-05:00

There's something about those ringlets, that gorgeous smile, the amazing manners.
Each time Vashti walks my way, Aneesha seems to emerge a couple of years younger.
Maybe its true, all lovely little girls are made that way.

Bust That Stress

2007-07-16T21:21:00.000-05:00

There was a time when they goo-ed and gaa-ed.....
A time before the words arrived....
The wheres, whys, wherefores followed....
The fights began....
They learnt to eat....
Also to leap....
Before you knew it they were gone from infancy into childhood.

I miss those days, I really do. Days when they were snug in your arm, when they let out those grand burps after their feeds, when all they did was lie down, laugh, cry, ask for more or wait to be changed.

That's partly why the arrival of each new one is greeted with such fan fare.

Viraj, is the new kid on our block. One we all love. He smiles, his wonderful smile, each time you lift him up. He's one happy baba. He lifts my spirits whenever I'm down. He's dying to grow up, eat stuff, he shouldn't even be attempting to read right now.

He's downright adorable, these pictures are proof.....

Pix Credits: The first one's powered by Nokia N73, the gadget doesn't cease to amaze me. The second one by the proud parents - Adity and Vineet.

Dhruv Eats Car

2007-07-12T21:10:00.000-05:00

Speaking of the N73, you can even insert text like this, saving yourself the caption step. Change it into black, sepia or whatever effect pleases your fancy. Push buttons can't get any easier.

Watch the Words

2007-07-03T19:32:00.001-05:00

I've mentioned the perils of the over-use of the Queen's English before. Don't know what it is about big words that draws the young ones in. The issue seems even more complex when you think of the energy you've putting in to crack C-A-T - Cat, M-A-T - Mat, B-A-T - Bat.

One day, after Dhruv had finished his fist fight with Aneesha and left an awful scratch on her shoulder, I told him:

Dhruv I am disappointed.

That was just the kind of word he needed for the day.

Everyone he met, heard it a couple of times, if not more:

Aneesha, I am disappointed.
Masi, I am disappointed.
Nani, I am disappointed.
Manju, I am disappointed.
Mamma, I am disappointed.
Rickshaw wallah, I am disappointed.
Bobby, I am disappointed.

There's got to be something about Ds.

Role Reversal

2007-07-03T19:20:00.000-05:00

Bala to Aneesha:
How are you Aneesha?
Who is your friend?
What did you eat today?
What did you play?
Did you watch TV?
How long did you watch it?
Did you sleep in the afternoon?
Did you study?
Do you like homework?
Do you like playing tennis?
Do you like swimming?

A couple of patient replies later, an extremely harried Aneesha responds:
Daddy, can you stop asking questions.

There, she almost sounds like us!
Things do come full circle, if only you try.

Say Cheese

2007-07-03T16:43:00.000-05:00

He not be minding his Ps & Qs.
Or for that matter his A, B, Cs...
But he's getting fairly adept at using all my cameras....
What say you, about this Dhruv click?

The Water Babies Are Back

2007-07-02T09:09:00.000-05:00

And geared for the big plunge....

Looking for Adventure

2007-07-02T09:03:00.000-05:00

After getting back to Singapore.....

Wait, don't go anywhere without me....

See, isn't my million dollar look worth the wait?

Old Friends and New

2007-07-02T09:00:00.001-05:00

My blog and our sporadic emails that followed helped us stay in touch. We last saw each other in 1991, when we made our way past the hallowed precincts of Panjab University's Political Science Department. He went on to join the Indian Police Service and has done superbly for himself. I'm not surprised. A S Rai, like other civil service aspirants in the class of '91 was focused. After lectures, even the ones who weren't aspiring to be in civil service (like yours truly) made a mad dash for the Department Library or the main campus library. If there was ever a bunch of book worms, it had to be us. We were always the first to find out about the new books, always attempt to be the first to borrow them and studiously work on our notes.

I know our Professors loved us. 'The best class', was a phrase we'd heard often enough. We only made time for 'serious lectures' and ensured nothing was lost in trivial conversation. No cooler talk for us, no time for the Student Centre, no time for relaxed campus walks.

So in the two years that we spent doing our Masters, I knew virtually nothing about Rai, his interests or his family. Catching up after so many years, it was a surprise to learn he did his schooling in Mussorie, to meet his charming wife who studied law and his amazingly well behaved daughter. Seeing her and Aneesha yakking away, after Dhruv was ceremoniously dispatched home, it almost seemed like we'd never been away.

Meeting Mr Ashish

2007-07-02T08:55:00.001-05:00

Dhruv talk from Chandigarh to Delhi:
Where are we going now?
To Delhi

Why?
To take our flight but we'll be stopping for a while before that.

Why?
To see Ashish.

My friend Ashish?
No, Ashish Mohan.

My friend Ashish?
No, this is a big Ashish.

Big Ashish?
I mean Mister Ashish.

Mister Ashish, oh we are going to see Mister Ashish.
Where does Mister Ashish stay?
What does Mister Ashish do?
Mister Ashish is in Delhi?
Mister Ashish has a big car?

On Arrival:
Hello, Mister Ashish where is your big car?

Thus, was born 'Mister' Ashish. Dhruv passed it off as his name in the two hours we spent with him, his patient wife Ritu and his Mum at Defence Colony. Ashish happens to be my rakhi brother, our childhood neighbour from Doon, our best pal who always won all the games we played. We scaled neighbour's roofs, jumped off them, got smacked left, right and centre by our parents who witnessed the scary sights. We hadn't even heard of Spider Man or Superman then and we behaved like them. What were we thinking? We hated home work and were duly punished for the extra play time we indulged in.

It was great to look back at those times, playing stapu in the rain, with our rain coats on, cycling to the river, fishing in the stream that barely had fish. It was great to relive those days, with my children rolling their eyes in awe. The ordinary sure seemed a little extra-ordinary.

Lull before the Storm

2007-07-02T08:49:00.000-05:00

These moments were rare....
Yet they made up for all the cat fights....

Love Is In The Air

2007-07-02T08:35:00.000-05:00

They chewed her brain and deprived her of sleep.....
They read stories through the night.....
They wanted nothing short of her special parathas....
They groaned when the glasses of Bournvita showed up, two in a tow....
They lunged for the mangoes barely off the trees.....
They shouted, they screamed, they yakked like today was their last day......
Not once she complained.....

No surprise it was smiles all round with Masi for company....

Gardener Dhruv

2007-07-02T08:32:00.001-05:00

With a hose in hand, he's more than ready to green the grass:

From the Valley

2007-07-02T08:15:00.000-05:00

In Dehra Dun with Dad, where it all began with a scooty ride:

Where he liked flashing his camera skills:

To take pictures like these:

It's time to go, but we hate goodbyes:

History on The Wall

2007-07-01T19:31:00.000-05:00

Sharing family history is often fraught with the usual dangers. Sharing it with a four year old makes it the proverbial Pandora's Box. You draw the family tree, then you fill in the dots and explain it as best as you can. It doesn't help when visits to the family are far and few between. Many explanations later, here's what happened:

Dhruv (in Dehra Dun): This is my Nanaji, where is my Naniji?
Me: (in an emotionally controlled voice) Bachche, she died.
Dhruv: What, she died, what happened?
Me: She was sick.
Dhruv: The doctor didn't give her medicine?
Me: He did.
Dhruv: What happened, Mamma, I want my Naniji.
Me: Me too.
Dhruv: Then bring her back.
Me: But she is in heaven.
Dhruv: Heaven, where is heaven?
Me: Can we stop now?
Dhruv: Heaven, where is heaven?
Me: Where God is.
Dhruv: Where is God?
I pretend I can't hear anymore as the drone of what, where, why continues.

We head to Chandigarh next and here it's my Nanaji's potrait on the wall in the drawing room that stirs his imagination:
Dhruv: Who is that?
Me: Nanaji
Dhruv: But Nanaji is in Dehra Dun?
Me: Not your Naniji Dhruv, this is mine, your great grand Nanaji.
Dhruv (faking the all knowing voice): Ooooh
Me: He died.
Dhruv: He died! What happened?
Me: Please ask Masiji.
I am hoping to avoid an interrogation Doon style and I imagine since the wheres, whys and where tos aren't thrust on Masi everyday, she will be patient. I hear the voices of shock, disbelief and awe wafting through the kitchen together with the fragrance of the tadka. The story of the war, the brave soldier that Nanaji was, the medals of honour, the walk in the mountains, the fall, the blood, the injury, the death, the sorrow. I am tempted to put my book mark in and warn Masi of the perils of spinning real life tales with Dhruv, they always have the potential to take on some rather serious forms. This one does the very next day.

We are at Sindhi Sweets in Sector 17, where Dhruv is delighted to order his plain dosa. I'm hoping that coupled with the mango juice will restrict his table talk. If wishes were horses..... Dhruv is in full chat mode, fluttering eye lashes, naughty eyes, the works. Soon the family on the next table is engaged in an animated discussion with him. It all seems to going fine, with his school, his Roshmi Mam, his playground, then out of nowhere, he swerves:

"You know, my Naniji died. He went to the war. Boom, boom, there was guns. Big fire. Then he went on the mountain, he fell down. The blood came out, he died. They gave him medals, he is hanging on Naniji's wall now."

The story begins and ends like the rapid fire round. I know the hanging on the wall sounds so darn wrong, I want to explain but I resist. Sheepishly, I tell the lovely folks who are eyeing the nearest exit and want to keep their kids at bay from us: "Just ignore him, he talks too much."

Hoping against hope, I believe this is all over. I tell Masi about it and she is merely amused. That is till the phone rings the next day. Dhruv wants to answer it and he does:

Hello, who is calling?
(silence)
Mamaji?
(silence)
Where are you?
(silence)
Oh, Allahabad....
(silence)
Are you dead?

Masi grabs the receiver, I give her my I told you so look, we know the battle has only just begun.

You Know You Are Back

2007-07-01T19:21:00.000-05:00

From India, when:
- Your kids don your Vietnamese straw hat on their neck, then start beating it like a drum and sing the swan song "Aam le lo, kelay le lo, Pyaaz le lo, Nimbu le lo..."
- They keep opening and slamming doors and re-orient themselves to the fact that only one door holds the window to the outside world.
- When they start looking at trees and wondering why there are no aams falling off them.
- When everything comes prefaced with Aaraam Naal and ends with Nahin.
- When the search for rickshaws continues while being seated in their taxi.
- When they mercifully putting the calculus embedded in their brain cells to good use by converting dollars into rupees and telling you "Wow, that's expensive, that's a lot of rupees."
- When they start looking for coolers in their air-conditioners.
- And continue gazing into their pocket map to figure out how much more they have to travel.

Water Baby

2007-06-05T16:21:00.001-05:00

When she is not standing in the middle of a fountain, she takes to water like a fish.
30 laps in a row, she packs twice as much energy as I do. She can beat me stroking hollow. After a bout with her weak lungs, she has survived swimming. A bronze down the road, she's at work on her silver.

Yes, when she started it was endless visits to the paediatrician. Once the breathing was sorted out, her lungs emerged stronger as did her spirit.

For that and for many other non-competitive facets of her life, Aneesha does us proud.

Mind Your Language

2007-06-05T16:14:00.000-05:00

"X says gusting things..."
"Y says gusting things...."
"A says gusting things...."

What's gusting, Dhruv?

"Mamma, that thing you say to me everytime. Don't be gusting Dhruv."

Ah disgusting!

"No, no, gusting, Mamma, gusting."

Dhruv is Four

2007-05-16T06:39:00.000-05:00

They do grow up in no time.....
Enjoy them while you can....

Question Time

2007-05-02T15:43:00.000-05:00

"Can I ask you a question?" my fireball of energy shoots off the minute he's past the door.
"Sure..."
"Dhruv, what's the question?" I say after the initial excitement about being interrogated ends in a pregnant pause.
"I don't know. Teacher says must ask question."

Life is about Make-Up

2007-05-01T20:22:00.000-05:00

As kids we'd done it.

No sooner did Mum and Dad get dressed for their evening party, of which there were plenty in the Indian Army, my sis and I would get cracking on our plans for the evening.

We loved that feel of chiffon, that sophistication of the pearl string, the whiff of the eau de cologne, the puckered pink lips.

Each time they stepped out my Dad was handsomeness all round, Mum perfection personified.

We wanted that look oh so badly. The minute they put their feet firmly into their two-door Black Standard, reminding us to be good and get to bed early we'd be happily saying goodbye.

Those were the days without television. Even when it arrived, the only entertainment was Krishi Darshan.

Yes, reading books was an option, though not as attractive as making a go of Mom's dresser.

We'd perch ourselves on the stool, staring lovingly into the mirror before starting off with the pressed powder compact, followed by the Kajal. Though the look would be incomplete without the lipstick. We'd pull out one Lakme after the other, paint our cheeks pink, followed by our lips. We'd then pull out one of Mum's many gorgeous dupattas from her wardrobe and make some real efforts to drape it like a saree. Then we'd strike some poses before scrubbing the paint off our faces.

It was all going perfectly according to plan, till one day, Mum and Day decided to head back a good 20 minutes after they'd left. Mum had forgotten her purse. As she unlocked the door of the 63/1 Bharuwala barrack and almost tip toed her way into her room - what does she see?

Two faces, definitely not pretty in pink. Not an amusing sight when you've been guarding your make-up as a national treasure.

Mum was livid and as the shouting began, we nervously tried closing the lipsticks, smudging four beyond repair in the process. We just didn't have time to roll it back before putting the lid on.

That effectively marked the end of our brush with make-up. For the next two weeks, we had our punishment meted out army style. It was being locked in the back seat of the Standard Herald, while our parents went to their dinner dos. Not that we minded that even. We loved the car which called for pulling of seats to step into it. We loved curling up in the back seat with our favourite razais.

Now, our kids do just that. Their pillows, comforters, stuffed toys, cars, Peter Rabbit take up half of the Nissan Latio, effectively robbing it of its sporty touch. That's not all.... each time I as much as attempt to step out of the door for a night out, there are broad grins "Bye Mamma, have a good time."

I thought it was all for TV, till I went to use my lipstick the other day.

A brand new Body Shop buy, it had been squashed in the case. It was beyond repair.

I should have been livid. But all I could do was laugh when Aneesha told me about not hers, but Dhruv's creative brush with my make up.

"He took that stool and painted his whole face brown."
"You did that, Dhruv?"
"Yes, can I show you again?" he beamed, brown with pride.

Setting the Clock Back

2007-05-01T18:18:00.000-05:00

You think you've heard it all. Stomach ache, ear ache, back ache, coughing ache..... any excuse really to miss school.

But the baba log these days are getting a tad smarter, as I discovered the other day.

Both the kids got up as usual, got dressed, had their breakfast, felt they still had an hour to go, embarked on the A B C's or so they tell me.

At 9:15am I get a call at work....
"Mamma, we missed the bus."
"Why? What happened?"
"We were late," said Aneesha, "all the clocks were wrong."

Hmmmm, one clock, one can fathom, all three is a mystery indeed.

Aneesha swore she hadn't touched them. Then Dhruv brought mine over and proudly claimed:
"See Mamma, I can change the time."

And it's all for oushka-moushka Mickey the Mouse, who incidentally showed up on time on Playhouse Disney.

Argumentative Adults

2007-05-01T17:56:00.000-05:00

They do this every time, Bala is away. Though the lines have become finer now:

Dhruv: "I will tell Daddy, he will scold you. Don't want to do homework."
Aneesha: "Adults don't scold, they only argue, Dhruv."

SPECIAL EFFECTS

2007-04-23T19:00:00.000-05:00

Yes, they know more than you. Even at that tender age of 4. Tell them to brush up on their drawing, they'll tell you what software works best. Ask them about 'special picture' they'll show you how.

"I can even colour your picture," Dhruv tells me the day he is sick.

We head to the Apple and special effects unravel like never before. Single shots, fuzzy shots, grainy shots, sepia tones, six shots in a go..... it's a world of picture renditions out there. I wouldn't even have known.

Looking for Love?

2007-04-16T19:33:00.000-05:00

"Mamma, Mamma, you have love in your loo?"
"What?"
"Look, look, you have love in your loo?" my four-year old tells me excitedly.

Little fingers point to my heart-shaped rug affirming love's everywhere. Often you don't even have to look for it.

Animal Farm

2007-04-16T19:12:00.000-05:00

Lying dogs don't bite, so Dhruv believes...

Can I really feed them? She wondered then...

We are not afraid...

But I am. Aneesha tells me smile, its just a haathi, saathi...

Tressed

2007-04-16T18:58:00.000-05:00

It takes a couple of hours, lots of patience, but once its done the tresses stay that way. You can wash them, rough them up and they would stay that way till you pull the lovely beads out. It's a look I miss a lot. I know Aneesha does too.

So Long, Farewell...

2007-03-20T18:14:00.000-05:00

It's hard to say goodbye.....
But if we must, it should be with parties like these.
Snapshots from Tripta and Tarun's bash to remember at Marrakesh - the cool chill out place with a Middle-Eastern twist at Clarke Quay.
Add it to your destination Singapore list, if you haven't been there already...
Here are the pictures that say it all....

Take a break to say cheese....

Neerja holds fort....
It must be some point coz she sure has my attention - if my back's to be believed....

With Blair's Mum....

Swinging along with Tripta....

A couple of drinks down, the world does seem topsy turvy.....
For the person who took this shot, I mean...

It Gets Harder....

2007-03-14T19:59:00.000-05:00

To make friends as you grow older. Unlike fine wine, others interest in you wanes. Or you end up being more discerning or the family takes over. Some folks can perfectly fathom why you need to cancel the lunch appointment at the very last minute, why you can't make it for a show after having made plans for it all week, why you work insane hours, why you go into hiding when the exams are around or why you refuse to stir out of your home during the weekend.

Tripta Singh understood all of that and a whole lot more. For those of you, who've followed my other blog, you probably know this story. We met close to two years ago. It was through work. Then we ended up bumping into each other at a couple of social events. One thing led to another. We discovered we were both Army brats, we'd been to pretty much the same parts of India, we were both in the media, we liked pretty much the same things. The plot thickened when I invited her to my birthday and realised we were born on the same day. Over the months, that have passed all too quickly, we went shopping together, went on movie marathons, occassionally hung out at malls, exchanged notes on the books we were reading, our travel tales (oh well, more often they were her travel tales).... to cut a long story short - our good days and our equally bad ones.

She'd be the first one I'd call if I needed help with anything - right from food for my party to what's the propah outfit to wear. We even ended up buying the same white Payal Jain kurti you see in this picture from Mumbai Se. Lesson learnt, if shop we must, we must do it together.

As our friendship evolved, so did the friendship with her husband Tarun. Nothing could get keep Dhruv and Aneesha at home if they knew Uncle Tarun and Aunty Tripta were coming home. They would look at the clock, time their arrival, wait near the carpark, then resort to phone calls if they handn't made it on time. Aneesha would even insist on accompanying me for some of our shopping expeditions and patiently last from noon to evening.

When I told both of them they were going to Hong Kong, their initial reaction was:
"So good, we can go to Hong Kong Disneyland."

As the days passed, realisation struck that they will be gone for good.
"You mean we can't go out with Aunty Tripta?" Aneesha asked the other day. She was imagining some of her fun weekends fizzling away.

True, they might be in and out of town, but it just won't be the same thing.

I guess it was thinking of the imminent departure that took Aneesha went back to her drawing board yesterday. She took a mini-study break to indulge in what she does most passionately - her art.

She took her time over this. Adding the colours, the dots then the words to the drawing to pass it on Tripta who's grown to be her "favourite Aunt."

And with that, it's time to pull out the Kleenex and wish both Tripta and Tarun the absolute best for what's bound to be another exciting adventure in their packed lives.

Trust in an age of....

2007-03-14T19:38:00.000-05:00

This was written when Aneesha was about three and it was published in the papers. This was the picture that went with it. Since there's a bona fide kids blog, this seemed worth repeating.

Among the zillions of other things that I'm getting wrong as a first time mother - like not sending kid for music class, dance class, ballet class, swimming class, phonics class..... let me add another one - I've wittingly or unwittingly - taught her to be nice to strangers.

So people look at me rather strangely when she says hi to the person who steps into the lift.

And the bus drivers, I never forget their expressions when she goes 'bye, see ya now...'

One of them was so impressed he just had to shake hands with the little dame for actually saying thanks for the ride.

I know from the looks I beget that I am this crazed mother who isn't teaching her kid to be afraid of strangers. Maybe I am - slightly crazed - I mean.

But I never quite recall my Mum telling my sister and I to be paranoid of strangers. We just grew up with this general camaraderie towards folks around us, and somehow this instinct thing made me sense danger - if it ever did lurk in the distance.

Like Mum always told us to wish everyone but never take anything from a stranger. So there was this subtle conditioning about folks you came to know as acquaintances and others who were our friends.

Today, we seem to be bringing up kids who are taught to fear strangers. Though statistically speaking that isn't quite the biggest fear - but that's quite another story.

Yes, there are reasons for fear - kidnapping, abuse, rape - to name just a few horrible few.

But then there are also the other very real dangers - like I could walk out today and get hit by an oncoming vehicle and that could well spell the end of me or have the cab skid in a flash flood and be gone in a jiffy.

As a mother, I well share the fierce protectiveness of parents, the better safe than sorry sentiment.

What I regret in the midst of all this is the innocence lost, the way we allow fret free childhoods to slip away with our subtle conditioning, the way in which we teach them not to trust, not to reach out to folks in need unless they've been certified fit and appropriate by us knowing adults.

And that's a habit, once picked up through subtle or not so subtle conditioning can last through adulthood, where it's bound to manifest itself in even more dangerous ways.

In our suspicion of those who look different from us, and our quick willingness to blame them for our ills; or in our tendency to hide behind the walls of our secure homes that we believe will keep us safe from the world of strangers.

So what are we really teaching our kids?

Among other things - Don't take risks. Keep to yourself. Look away when someone asks for help. Hide behind something that will keep you eternally safe from strangers.

Now that's something I guess none of us wants as a parent.

PS: 4 years have passed since I penned this and I'm pleased to report that while I don't have a perfect twosome, they are always around to help. If you were to watch them closely, they will open the lift door for people waiting to get in, they will be the last ones out, they will open our secure condo doors for you. The other day, Aneesha first opened the lift door, then entrance door for a lady who was pregnant. I was so impressed and imagined that she will pause to say thank you, if not a chat. So imagine my shock, when the woman stuck her nose in the air and walked off like this was her birth-right.

I know, I was as shocked as Aneesha. We were crest-fallen and I'll never forget how glumly she said: "You always taught me to say thank you."

Flipping the Pages

2007-03-14T18:59:00.000-05:00

For the longest time, all Dhruv has been doing is flipping these pages and making up his own stories. Not a bad start at all, since we've heard the most bizarre versions of 'The Gingerbread Man' and 'Peter Rabbit.' Watching his sis study hard and read what's written in her school books, he's taken it upon himself to crack some of these words. Now, if I could get him to do the same thing with his work sheets....

Number Crunching

2007-03-13T21:18:00.000-05:00

I still remember that feeling. Staring at the blackboard for the full maths period, trying in vain to make sense of what Ajay Sir was rattling off with intense seriousness. In Class 8, my dismal affair with numbers saw the report card slump into red, after which arrangements for tuition were made. I thought I was getting the basics right, at least till I took my exams. It might have helped in some way, as I did manage to get pass marks once the tuition supplemented what I learnt in class.

In Class 10, I spent copious hours over my Maths textbooks, learning theorems, figuring out the algebra and everything else that went along with it. Before the exam I prayed hard - really hard. If there was anything that could pull me down, it would have to my Maths. My heart was in my hands when I made it to the exam room after the long ride from our school in Clement Town to the test centre on the other side of town. I felt I was going to be sick. Though going back was not an option. The CBSE board wouldn't give me another chance to take this test - unless I failed of course.

With the impending sense of doom, I made my way to the exam room. When I got the questions, the first thing I wanted to do was cry out loud. I couldn't make sense of half of the stuff, I couldn't even figure out one of the questions on the theorem that I thought I knew so well. I struggled, sweated and somehow got to the end of it all.

That was only the beginning. While the rest of my papers went well, I spend the extended holiday after the Board Exams in a sense of perpetual dread. Nightmares became a regular occurrence. They followed a pattern. Sit for the exam, get the result, look at the F, then cry. It was the middle of summer so each time I got up, it would be me drenched in sweat. Failure became such an obsession that the only thought that came to my mind was being back in my school in Doon.

When the result finally reached my Dad's home - at that time in Amritsar - I couldn't believe I'd scraped through. It was a 48/100. Not the best score in the world but enough to get moving on to the college journey where I vowed to stay as far away from numbers as I could.

To this day, I remain an unparalleled disaster with numbers. It takes very little for bankers to convince me about parking my money in the silliest schemes. I have to resort to a lot of finger counting when too much addition, division, subtraction, multiplication is involved.

So it is with a sense of trepidation and dread that I approach my daughter's maths exam.

Fortunately, she's got her Dad's genes when it comes to numbers. When we sit together and I'm attempting my mental maths, she would have usually solved the sums, moved on to the next one and the next one. I love to watch her in action. It's like seeing a little human calculator punching in and punching out numbers quick time. Given that she's got the edge and knows it, it's also next to impossible for me to teach her anything logical when it comes to maths.

The one time that I did, all her answers were wrong. I strongly encourage her to do it all with Bala. It works well, if he's around, it takes a disastrous twist when he's not. Which is what happened this time round when work resulted in India calling.

Straddling through numbers, I ended tossing and turning through the night with 10th standard coming back to haunt me all over again.

It wasn't for long though. The alarms went off and in less than four hours after I attempted to sleep.

I was back at work looking at numbers all around. From my cab fare, to the vending machine to cricket scores, to tennis, to soccer goals, to the markets. There truly is no escape.

Rides to Nowhere

2007-03-12T23:06:00.000-05:00

Bus routes in Singapore are a lot like the roads in Singapore. If you haven't used them in like two years, chances are you are bound to get lost.

That's just what happened when my spirit of save some money, use public transport kicked in last evening.

With a spring in my stride, a chip on my shoulder, Aneesha and I boarded bus number 173. I'd last boarded this one over two years ago. At that time it made a whistle stop at the bus stop opposite Rail Mall. So it was that we scanned our Ezy Link cards next to the even more intriguing reader machines:
"Wow, so good, it's free," chirped Aneesha
"No, it's not dear, it's like the NETS machine. Someone has to work, someone puts money in the bank, then these mysterious machines dispense it."

As I ran through the machinations of modern day machinery, I didn't notice that the bus which should have taken us straight two bus stops away has turned into the Hume stretch. That's till Aneesha screeched "Mamma, this is not Bukit Timah!"

Of course, it wasn't I realised as I painfully looked at Symphony Heights. We jumped, frantically pressed the bell, alighted at the next bus stop, then tried in vain to get a cab.

If you've lived here long enough, you'd also know you'll never get a cab when you need one!

So after 10 minutes of wildly moving our arms, I decided walking was the only option. By this time, we'd missed our appointment time. Not that it really mattered, because doctor's appointments usually end up being registration appointments. Cards get scanned, entries are made, weight is taken, so is the height, forms are completed, any drug allergies - hmmm, not that I know so far - then you wait, start thumbing through all the parenting, baby, health and whatever other magazine happens to be on available. Of late, I've been spending so much time at various doctors that I've started catching up on real reading. Between the registration to the seeing to the payment to the picking up the medicine, one can easily go through half a novel, if the kids are effectively engaged. They usually are coz the telly shows them their favourite cartoon shows, anyways.

So it was that during our wait last evening, we finished revising half of EVS and once we were done with the rest of the ritual that I just explained above Aneesha popped the painful question:
"Are we going back by bus?"

"No, no, just stick your hand out, will you?"

And to think we've been doing all of this while Bala's car sits in the car park and I continue failing my tests by mounting some insurmountable curbs in the driving circuit. That, though is one lOOOOOOOOOOOOONG story.

Insights on my job

2007-03-12T23:01:00.000-05:00

Aneesha has finally decided to share some of her thoughts from her 'secret diary.' She's made remarkable progress with it, her target is to finish it before Daddy comes back, so she that "he can buy me a new diary."

Lots of things are being furiously scribbled into it. We talked about it yesterday while enduring another endless wait at the doctor's. There is God, family, friends, brother, TV and my job.

"You are a Producer because you love words," is apparently one of the entries. Boy, am I touched. If all it takes, is a Strawberry Shortcake diary to inspire such gems, I'm getting the whole loadful.

Before & After The Exams

2007-03-12T22:32:00.000-05:00

We're still at the before stage right now. Last night, after our visit to the doctors, I got a new set of crayons, a new set of Stabilo pencils (yes, the ones you can throw from the window and they won't break when they crash land....no we haven't tried that yet), new eraser, new pencils out for Aneesha.

"Why are you being so kind?" pat came the question.

Don't get her wrong. I'm known for my kindness, at least at home, though the spirit wanes when the exams loom.

"Oh, I just don't want to be like Swami's Dad," I replied.

"Swami, who's Swami?"

Sensing this as the perfect opportunity to induct my twosome into the world of Malgudi and take them far far away from 'The Gingerbread Man', 'Alice in Wonderland', I read out these parts much to the delight of my kids.

This part is from 'Before the Examination'.....
"Two days before his examination he sat down to draw up a list of his needs. On a piece of paper he wrote:

Unruled white paper 20 sheets
Nibs 6
Ink 2 bottles
Clips
Pins"

Swami subsequently frets over it, reworks it before finally mustering the courage to present it to his father who remains busy in his office. Expectedly when he comes face to face with his father, almost everything else fails. He wishes the list could disappear. It's too late:

"What is that paper in your hand?
'Nothing, Father,' Swaminathan answered, thrusting the paper into his pocket.
'What is that?' Father shouted, snatching the list. Reading it with a terrific scowl, he went back to his chair. 'What is this thing?'
Swaminathan had to cough twice to find his voice.
'It is - my - examination list.'
'What examination list?'
'My examinations begin the day after tomorrow, you know.'
'And yet you are wandering about the house like an unleashed donkey! What preposterous list is this? Do you think rupees, annas and paisas drop from the sky?'
Swaminathan did not think so, but something nearly so."

Attempt reading this when you are close to breaking point, you'll find there has never been a better stress buster. In fact, you can get your child to be Swami (trust me they'll love playing him, some parts of the personality will in fact emerge naturally) and take turns reading the lines, you'll be surprised by the intense merriment that ensues.

Now for the part after the exams from 'School Breaks Up':
"With dry lips, parched throat, and ink-stained fingers, and exhaustion on one side and exaltation on the other, Swaminathan strode out of the examination hall on the last day.

Standing in the veranda, he turned back and looked into the hall and felt slightly uneasy. He would have felt more comfortable if all the boys had given their papers as he had done, twenty minutes before time......

Swaminathan suddenly wished that he had not come out so soon....."

And so the story unfolds. Now, it's time for you to go get the book. A treasure trove if ever there was one.

Swami & Friends

2007-03-11T18:53:00.000-05:00

The exams are upon us. These are moments when I'm at my antsy best. It takes very little to get me to snap. The slightest excuse can have my temper reach fever pitch. As a rule I never hit my kids - forget the cane - so I have to do a lot of walking around to restore a semblance of balance in my system and to prevent my pounding heart from popping out of mortal body.

Things have been different this time round. Yes, Aneesha has improved. She reads a lot faster, focuses on her work and at least before her pencil hits the paper, she is always going for A - "easy, peasy," is her preferred turn of phrase. Yes, a lot has changed since she entered a 'real school.' Exam after exam, where grades have vacillated violently between C and A have taught me that at the end of the day it's not the paper grades rather the brilliance from within that matters.

Helping me with this philosophical take is this timeless R.K.Narayan classic. Swami & Friends, which was first published in 1935 by Hamish Hamilton has gone into several re-prints since. I have a copy of it in my Nani's home in India, left in the hope of setting that library if and when we do return to our shores. The copy that I am reading now was picked up at the Vijitha Yapa Bookstore in Colombo and guess what it's the 37th edition. Such is the charm of the book.

The story is as simple as it comes. 10-year old Swaminathan (Swami) is a student of Albert Mission School whose life changes when the smart Rajam enters the school. "He (Rajam) was a new-comer....He spoke very good English, exactly like a European; which meant that few in the school could make out what he said."

I'm not going to read too much into that, it's already been done by many others. Let me stick to the key characters. Swami also has four other friends - the mighty Good-for-Nothing, Mani, the brilliant Sankar, the Monitor Somu and Samuel, the 'Pea' who had nothing outstanding about him.

When Swami decides to befriend Rajam, this tightly knit circle of friendship threatens to break away. They survive that test, but it is the tests that remain an imposition of the education system that break them.

As I revise Sabki Surahi and other lessons and the test sheets of the various Hindi books that a 7-year old and their parents have to grapple with, I wonder how much has changed since 1935 when Narayan first published this classic?

Children remain children, doing everything in their power to escape the drudgery of homework for the charms of the playground. I was like that once. They re-visit their course books only when threatened with the gravest of threats. In my days, my mother's rose cane was enough of a deterrent, these days, it's more likely to be "no tv, no playstation."

The pressures of the system remain, parents being parents want the Swamis to keep up with the Rajams. It's a tough job, as Narayan showed us, but someone's got to do it.

Booked n Baked

2007-03-11T16:50:00.000-05:00

Took the kids for Felix Cheong's book launch on Saturday. Something positively interesting is underway. For the longest time, all I've heard is complaints that Singaporeans don't read enough. Three recent events at one of the finest arts venues, aptly called The Arts House prove otherwise. Alexander McCall Smith drew a huge crowd on a weekday. Ditto for Jacob Sam-La Rose's performance poetry. And the story repeated itself at Felix's launch at The Earshot cafe.

Almost everyone from all ages was there. There were school students, his students (from NAFA, LaSalle), poets, writers, friends and my kids. Felix had a tough time reaching out to everyone and he wasn't quite helped with what my twosome had to say. Aneesha had to win a prize at the quiz (she's like that) so even before the question was asked her hand would go up and she'd turn around and go "Mamma what's the answer, quick." Dhruv didn't want to be left behind so he'd raise his arm as well and go "I know, I know."

At one point, when the mike was getting disastrously close to my twosome, Dhruv took off: "You know my sister, she never let me......" At which point Aneesha effectively gagged him and said "Shut Up." So much for creating a first impression.

After the launch, which much to the merriment of my kids provided Coca-Cola, we decided to do the Singapore River walk. Turned out to be a bad idea. At 4:30pm the place was hot enough for a sizzler. Took a couple of shots from the other side of the river, where you the old and the new thrive together in perfect harmony. Dhruv was drawn to the bumboats and looked in vain for some crabs. Aneesha, on the other hand, was drawn to Sir Stamford Raffles. We re-read the plaque several times to make sense of the year he arrived in Singapore. There was a lot of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division of numbers. I, who have a tough time, going beyond 2 plus 2 without the help of a calculator so wanted to give up. Helping us was Dhruv who gave up without the joy of crab-spotting.

Since Bala is not around and we have no access to the car, we ended up walking around. Well, the walking almost saw my curious dude walk into The Supreme Court. He's constantly amused by the sight of the automatic opening and closing doors. Before he could do too much of it, I spotted the security folks and that was enough to get him to move on. We thought we could do a longer stretch but a KFC waylaid our plans.

Then we ambled into a Bata at Peninsula Plaza after Aneesha complained "have you seen my school shoes?" This one turned out to be a real discovery. It is the biggest Bata store in Singapore and on that day had the most amazing deals. The kids were happy coz there was a play area complete with those balls that Dhruv decided were perfect for jumping, a TV as well and some not so scary dinosaurs. If you want to get there, here are the details: Ground Floor, 111 North Bridge Road, Peninsula Plaza, Singapore 179098. Ph: +65 6339 7000 Email: bata.singapore@bata.com

Apart from the shoes, I also picked up a note-pad for Aneesha and she's been busy writing away, though I'm not supposed to look into her secret diary.

I know Sir Stamford Raffles has an entry in there somewhere as does Felix. There's a lot of love for God, mother, father and family. I know it coz the better part of my Saturday night and Sunday was spent spelling these words and more.

Reading Corner Lost

2007-03-07T22:06:00.000-05:00

This is my favourite corner in our home. It's the part where you see the cars whizzing by, from a distance, of course. When it rains, the clouds descend to kiss the miniature hills. It is beauty at its best and now my son wants to take over, without as much as a smile.

Strolling Along

2007-03-07T22:05:00.000-05:00

Yes, flat stomachs do things, including whizzing into shape by strolling on trollies.

Reading Lost?

2007-03-07T21:59:00.000-05:00

When they are that serious, you can be assured there is no book in hand!

Lending More Than A Hand

2007-03-07T21:52:00.000-05:00

Went looking for the charity pictures and found these to complete the series.

This Hand Is....

2007-02-12T18:30:00.000-05:00

When they are not at war, the duo do get together to create stuff like this.

It all started with the 'Charity Is...' campaign, I brought five cards home and told them to come up with a concept. It was Aneesha's idea to use a 'helping hand'. So Dhruv became the scapegoat. Not that he minded at all, it was more a case of 'my hand, my hand'. In the end, a series of hand cards were created and made their way to a deserving notice board, raising more than just a dollar. It is moments like these that fill us with unbridled pride and we say so unabashedly.

Seeing Double

2007-02-12T18:28:00.000-05:00

They say boys are Double Trouble. Need proof?

From War Emergeth Love

2007-02-12T18:25:00.000-05:00

When they are not sparring, they do give us Kodak moments like these....
Wish they weren't far and few between...

Dhruv In Concert

2007-02-12T18:20:00.000-05:00

He can't sing to save his life, but he sure can jungle dance. Meet the King, who lost his robes.

Anshy In Concert

2007-02-12T18:17:00.000-05:00

There are times when flexing those vocal chords does pay off!

In Vacant or In Pensive Mood

2007-02-12T18:10:00.000-05:00

Boys do think...
They also get angry, make that very angry....OUCH!

Watch out Spidey....

2007-02-12T18:09:00.000-05:00

Who says you need a body to pull off that suit....
I am doing just fine with my car....
Stand back and watch me leap....

Dhruv - Then & Now

2007-02-12T18:06:00.000-05:00

Aneesha - Then & Now

2007-02-12T17:57:00.000-05:00

The Wonder Years

2007-02-12T17:42:00.000-05:00

Rapidly they grow, deserving posts their very own, since Readatpeace has taken on a life of its own and our lil ones aren't showing any signs of anything vaguely literary, this one's for our deligtful duo - Dhruv and Aneesha. Watch them leap....