three goats, four dogs and a bus driver

When we were in India last December, we decided to give Daivik a real taste of the place. We took him for a ride on a local bus from our home to the central bus stand, a journey of about 40 minutes.  The bus was not very crowded when we boarded and Daivik, after a few confusing moments to choose from the multiple empty seats on offer, decided to take the seat in the front, near the driver.

The architecture of a typical city bus in India is, well, a little different than a typical European city bus. Daivik noticed it immediately.  Even before sitting down completely, he started off.  “Mom, why is he driving on the other side?” The bus was naturally air conditioned,  the windows were fully open. “Why are the windows open?”, “Why is there no door”, “Who is that man with the whistle?” (the bus conductor, who sells tickets inside the bus and whistles to the driver about the stops)(“I want that whistle too”),”What is this bell for?” (that 'bell' is a rather charming feature of the buses from the region, a real physical metal bell, like a miniature version of a temple bell, positioned near the driver and tied to a rope that passes all the way across the bus, so that passengers can pull it to signal the driver to request a stop) (“I want to pull it”), “why is the driver wearing this uniform”…By now the bus was filling up and the seats were being taken. As people boarded the bus and heard the little boy with all these questions, they were sitting down to a changed mood and a smile.

Just then a street dog tucked under the bus. The nonplussed driver ignored it and continued. Daivik was all exclamation, “Mummy, mummy, look, look, the dog went under the bus”.  People nearby started laughing. The bus was continuing smoothly. Daivik insisted , “What happened to the dog?”. “It must have run away”, said his mother. “But I saw it getting under the bus”, said Daivik. “Dogs can run away quite fast”, replied his mother. Daivik had one of his moments of inspiration. He first asked, “Mummy, what will happen if a goat comes?”. “It will also run away”, said his mother. Now, this has become a pattern. The question he asked was not his real question. The real real question was more complicated, and came next. “Okay, what will happen if one goat, one dog, one more goat, one more dog, another goat and another dog stand in a line on the road”. I started imagining that row of alternative goats and dogs, standing across the length of the road and waiting for the incoming bus. The bus driver apparently saw that vision too. Inwardly shuddering at that nightmare, he took his eyes off the road, turned to Daivik and aksed, “Thambi, what’s your name?”.

Daivik got suddenly shy and buried his head in his mother’s knees. Suddenly there were comments all over. “What an intelligent boy”, “So many questions”, “What an imagination” (!) and compliments to his mother as well, “How do you keep answering them so patiently”.

We reached the central bus stand. Everybody was in big smiles and started patting Daivik on the shoulders, pinching his cheeks and waving on his hairs as they got down.

Brotherhood

"Mummy, can I break the bathroom tap?"

"No, Daivik"

"Can I break the kitchen tap?"

"No, Daivik"

"Can I atleast leave it open?"

"No, Daivik"

"Why can I not do anything?"

Daughters are gentle

While sons are brats. Or so goes the conventional wisdom (applicable to daughters and sons in the age groups 0 to 10. Or is it 15 ? 20? 40?). Anyway, let me explain what happened today. But before that I’ll take a detour and introduce you to the most important problem in life. Which is, of course, finding the glasses in the morning. Now, if you, like me, are not a particularly morning person, you will understand when I define morning as that time lag between the eyes opening up and the brain opening up (never mind that on some days the latter never quite happens). So, getting up to a dazed vision and ploughing through the maze of thoughts before realizing that the daze of the vision is actually due to lack of glasses and from there for the next thought to dawn that the solution for this is to get the glasses on and from there to figure out where it was kept last and from there to actually get down to the task of finding the glasses (without the glasses on, of course)…uff, tough life. Fortunately for me, Daivik, the darling he is, has stepped in. He has taken upon himself the onerous task of finding the glasses and has bestowed upon himself the honorific title of ‘glass finder’ (he is also, by the way, my ‘coffee maker’, a privileged task that involves pushing a button)(he knows that privilege part). Since then, my life has become infinitely easier, and the mornings pleasantly bright and startlingly, well, clear.

Now cut to today. As usual the battle between the eyes opening and brains opening was on. Akshara, the gentle daughter, the early riser, had made sure that whatever little pleasure that exists in those extra five minutes in bed remains firmly in the realms of stuff that dreams are made of. I was stumbling my way out of the bed when I saw her walking in. Daivik came running past her with an excited tone. “Appa, appa, look, Akshara, look, she..”. He was choked, he could not complete the sentence. I thought something had happened to her. But through my glassless perspective, she seemed fine, she was approaching me with a typical toddler gait and as she came closer the brightness of her smile came into focus and indeed it started brightening up all the things around her. I smiled too, but Daivik tried again. “Appa, look, Akshara, look, she…”. She was still walking in, still smiling and as she closed in, she raised both her hands as if offering me something. That is when I saw what Daivik wanted me to see.  On each of her raised hands were my glasses, ex-glasses rather, neatly split into two pieces. With a full smile on, she was urging me to take the glasses.

Daivik found the words. “Appa, see, she broke your glasses”. I wanted to laugh, but this was serious matter. I looked at Akshara and told with a stern voice (I think), “Why did you break the glass?”. Perhaps she realized something was amiss and that she was in the center of it. She  lowered her gaze and very carefully placed the glasses on the edge of the bed and with the head down and eyes averted, waited. After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes up without moving the head and finding me still waiting for an answer immediately averted her eyes and very slowly, very purposefully, walked away. Daivik was still dumbfolded. A glass that was never broken in his lifetime was suddenly broken. “Appa, see, she broke your glasses”, he said again. And suddenly overwhelmed with an enormous amount of care, added “oh, how will you see again”.

what's for lunch

"Daivik, what did you have for lunch in the kita today?"
"I don't know"
"Have you already forgotten?"
"No, I remember. But I will not tell you"
"Why will you not tell me?"
"I don't want to tell you"
"Shall I tell you one story?"
"Yes, yes, yes, tell me"
"There was a kita with lot of kids. They were having lunch..."
"Is it my kita ?"
"The children had Dosa for lunch"
"But we had Pasta"
"and they had Chutney with their dosa"
"But we had Cheese Sauce".

counter balance

Daivik wanted to have another bubble gum. I did not want him to gorge on them. I had the packet of gums with me, so I could say no. But he is getting smarter these days. He said, "Can you give me that packet, but I will not eat it". Getting a little logical, I asked, "If you will not eat it, why do you need the packet ?". He ignored my logic and said, "I promise, I will not eat. Can you give me the packet please?". "Okay, if you promise so". I gave him the packet and decided to check out on the fate of the packet. But he was prepared for that.  He demanded, "You should promise to not check me". "Okay, I promise", I said.

I realised that something very interesting was happening. Our objectives were clear, that he wanted to eat it and that I did not want it to happen (again).  I had lost control on the packet but now had his word. He in turn had my word that I will respect his trust. So we had locked ourselves with a series of trusts and balances.  How will this pan out ? How long can it last ? To dramatize it a bit, in the battle between temptation and honor which was going to win ?

At that point, we were on a boat and not in a particular hurry to go anywhere.  There was a glass wall  in front of us and through that wall I glimpsed the battle.  He was pretending to open the packet, pretending to put it in his mouth and pretending to chew on it, hoping that I will 'catch' him in the act. But I paid no attention. So he called me out and with a hidden smile, pointed his chewing mouth. I acted surprised and said, "But that is not allowed, you have given me a promise to not eat it". So he opened his mouth and showed me that it was empty, taking great pleasure in fooling me into believing that he had broken the promise.

With more time passing, I thought he might forget about it. But the packet was still in his hand, he was actively massaging it, feeling it, smelling it, but not opening it. Apparently, having the object of temptation close to you is an effective way of resisting it ! After one full  hour of this, he asked if he could break the promise (he used the German word kaputt). I explained to him that 'promise' and 'break' do not go very well together. But we needed a solution as well, so we decided to "conditionally relieve the promise". The conditions were, a) he gives back the packet to me, b) this is the last bubble gum of the day, c) he has to share it with me. He agreed to them readily and the package exchanged hands. I gave him one piece that he was supposed to split up, I had assumed a split of 50:50, but he decided that a better ratio was 95:5, in his favour, of course. My protests were in vain, "But you did not specify it should be 50 : 50". Finally we agreed on 70 : 30.

He was very pleased with the whole episode. As the boat was gently rocking by, he put the 0.7 gum in his mouth, gave me a satisfied smile, cuddled into my arms and said, "You are my best friend".