truly beautiful

Daivik and me were in a park. It was one of those rare moments when he was playing by himself, which allowed me time to do something else. I was in the middle of it when he came and told me that he wanted to show something. I said I was busy. He went away, but came back immediately saying he wanted to show me something "beautiful". I was still busy, he went away but came back again, tugged my hand and said, "Appa, come, I want to show you something truly beautiful". The use of that adjective intrigued me. Whatever I was doing cannot be more important than finding out what my son considered "truly beautiful".  He led me to a little slope that was covered with Dandelions, some of them were still in their blazing yellows but most of them had dried out, forming neat little golf balls that were sitting pretty on their long stems. It was indeed, truly, beautiful.

After admiring this beauty we went back to our respective things. Later on, we were walking back and Daivik was happily chattering away. As I turned to the right,  my eyes fell on a large area, about the size of a  foot ball field, covered with Dandelions. They were  in direct sun, bigger, swaying gently to the rhythms of the breeze and every now and then dislodging  a puff of the dandelion snow. I tapped his shoulders and without a word gently turned his head towards that field.  As his eyes fell on those Dandelions, Daivik stopped his chatter. He stood transfixed. Both me and the Dandelions were eagerly waiting for a word from him. If that little slope was "truly beautiful", what was he going to say for this vastness of Dandelions ? It was one of those moments, whatever he was going to say was bound to be precious. After several moments of a truly beautiful silence, he looked at me, flashed a brilliant smile and said, quite simply, "wow".

Of course, nature made the Dandelion blooms truly beautiful. It has also devised ingenious methods to enable their propagation to ensure a continuation of that beauty. We tend to think that the wind aids in dispersing the seeds. However, that is only partly true. Nature does not rely entirely on such stochastic occurrences. It wants to be absolutely sure that those delicate seeds are efficiently dispersed . What does it do ? It sends little boys, it sends Daivik. So, after this rather intimate admiration of beauty, Daivik stepped into the field and urged me to join him in what he called as 'Pustebloom race'. The objective was simple : to disperse as many florets from the blooms over as large an area as possible. Before the race began, he initiated me into its intricacies. Apparently it is not quite as simple as plucking one of them and blowing into it. I was astounded by my ignorance in this critical area. You have to hold the stem firmly but not too close to the flower (otherwise it will not bend and the flakes cannot go far), the speed and the angle in which you blow is critical (otherwise many flakes will fall down together, and that is not good), if the wind is against you, you have to blow harder (otherwise all the flakes will fall on you)...

So, we began the race. Soon enough, it was obvious who was going to win. The odds were stacked against me. He was clearly more practiced in this art than me. In order to educate myself better, I picked up a flower, sat on my knees and turned towards him with an objective of  observing his methods more closely.  However, I had to stop my education as the scene I encountered  froze me. It is an image that demands being accurately photographed and carefully framed. I have neither the right camera nor the required skills to do justice to that moment, but its memory lingers : Daivik is on the slightly blurred foreground. His lips are pursed in a delightful joy as he is blowing into the bloom.The still soft late spring sun is somewhere behind his head. It causes the moisture on the lips to glisten and casts a mini-halo around the edges of his hairs. The Dandelion bloom, under the force of his carefully calculated blow, is slightly bent away from him. In the process, it dislodges tens of little florets into the blue sky. The florets appear in sharp focus as they gently parachute down in the still air.

Truly beautiful, indeed.

evolution

Daivik was excited to see the well preserved complete skeleton of the super-large Dinosaurs at the Berlin Natural History Museum. As a souvenir we brought a replica Dino that could open and close its jaws at the pull of a trigger.

And that was how Daivik ended up becoming the all powerful 'Dino-master', who could command the Dino to eat up things or people that did not obey his wishes. Like the tram that did not stop when he signaled for it. Or the Dad that did not turn on the games in the computer.  

When he insisted on having more gummy bears, I  played the Dino game and  told him that there are no more gummy bears in the supermarket because a Dino walked into the shop and ate them all up. It was acceptable to have a Dino under his command, but when I told him about its appetite for gummy bears, he grew skeptical. "But there are no Dinos any more", he said, not very confidently. "Where are they", I asked and he replied,  "they are all gone, they are all dead". What followed was interesting, it would have made Darwin proud. "How did they die?", I asked. He thought for a moment and said, "They got old and died. And there were no more Dinos left". That made sense, but I told him, "But what happened to the baby Dino's then. There are also kinder Dinos. They will grow up and become big again". This idea was new to him. He thought about it seriously. After some intense moments, he declared boldly, "Actually, there are two types of Dinos. One with wings and one without. The one without wings got wings and they became birds. That is why we see many birds now and no Dinos".

ten heads, twenty eyes

I was showing Daivik images of Ravana, the demon emperor from the epic Ramayana. Ravana, with his ten heads, was bound to elicit Daivik's curiosity. I was wondering what he might ask. The most obvious question was why does he have ten heads ? Instead, he asked something far more interesting. "What does he do with ten heads?". This question took me off the tangent and I ended up wondering how exactly does Ravana control and co-ordinate all the thoughts that arise and criss-cross across all of his heads. One head is already sometimes a little too much for me...

Daivik was waiting for an answer. Without thinking much about it, I asked, "So, if he has ten heads, how many noses does he have". "Ten", replied Daivik promptly. "And how many eyes?", I asked.
Daivik thought for a moment and hesitantly ventured, "ten?".  I asked him to explain it, he could not. Then I told, "Okay, he has ten heads and two eyes in each head. So how many eyes does he have in total?". Instinctively Daivik pulled his fingers out to count. But then, how exactly does one count things when it is not clear what needed to be counted. Fingers frozen mid-air, he asked, "What do you count?". "This is called multiplication", I said and tried to explain the concept to him. However, I stopped soon enough as it was getting a little complicated. Addition, subtraction and the concept of zero were easy. How do you explain multiplication in a fun way ? (and, later on, division, division by zero...)

At school, we were forced to commit the multiplication charts to memory first. (from 1x1 all the way upto 20x20!). Perhaps the assumption behind it was that once you have the facts ingrained, understanding and appreciation of it will follow, or can be thought later. Maybe that is true. But, while forcing that commitment was easy, teaching that appreciation was not. Since people largely tend to do what is easy, the said appreciation never quite followed. For me personally, the intricate beauty of Mathematics (and Physics) remain sadly buried behind those scary formulas. I wonder now if it should be the other way around. First teach the appreciation, facts can follow.

As I was mulling over this, Daivik offered me a way out. "Is it the same as ten plus ten", he asked.

That's right, yes, of course, exactly, that is what it is.

The evolution of the Tantyawagh

Tantyawagh (tant - ya - wagh) : The mysterious creature who patrols the streets at 8 pm. But why does he  carry a large sack with him ? Shhh. Perhaps, just perhaps, to fill it up with little children who refuse to go to bed ?

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Ever since people started having babies and ever since kids started refusing to sleep on time, Tantyawagh has come to the rescue of harried parents. Nobody knows why he carries that sack or what he does with it.  But legend has it that it might be meant for kids refusing to sleep. Of course, it could not be true. But then nobody is sure about it, so why take a chance ?  If it is true, no kid would like to end up inside the sack, right ?

Now, as the Tantyawagh keeps roaming the streets at bed time, kids keep growing up too. And when they grow, they start getting rational. So rational infact that they start doubting the very existence of Tantyawagh  "Where is he ? Why have I not seen him ? Show him to me", they tell you. But you know they exist. Not only do they exist, they evolve too. So, while the kids are growing up, getting rational and all that, the Tantyawagh as cloned himself and made different avatars of himself. Infact, he has entered into a collaboration with Noddy and has became the 'big ears' Tantyawagh who can hear the minutest of whispers of kids who don't sleep), the 'big nose' Tantyawagh who can smell non-sleeping kids from far away, he infact has a particular affinity for freshly bathed kids), 'the big eyes' Tantyawagh (who can see the eyes of kids who are not sleeping)...

Every evening, they have their Tantyawagh conference at the street corner, deciding who goes into which street for their patrol. Sometimes they team up and come in pairs. Somehow, these evenings coincide with I-will-not-sleep-now tantrums. On these evenings, one has  to be extra careful and go to sleep right away.

How long does this surveillance continue ? Do the kids outgrow them ? Will the Tantyawagh top evolving ? These are very pertinent questions. My guess is, if kids go to bed by themselves, on time, every time, and learn to perfection the intricate art of not troubling their parents and listening to them on first call, Tantyawagh and their clones (and their cousins)(yup they exist too) will ease up slowly and possibly, eventually, will go elsewhere, to other streets, to other kids... 

patterns

"Vaa - pi - ano", chirped Daivik as he was getting out of bed one bright morning. This is becoming a pattern now. When something exciting is going to happen the next day, such as boarding a plane, he goes to bed with that thought in mind, apparently sleeps with it and springs to life the next morning with that excitement. This morning, that exciting thing was Vapiano. It is the name of the restaurant he was going for lunch, along with a bunch of his friends from the kindergarten. The restaurant houses a small pasta manufacturing unit. The kids were touring the factory as a part of their kitchen project. The idea was they will make the pasta themselves and then have it for lunch.

It was a cakewalk to get him ready for the day (why don't they take him to Vapiano everyday !). He was all excitement and was telling for the twenty fifth time about how they were going to make the pasta, with the details varying slightly each time. When we reached the kindergarten, the teachers had laid out a large map of the city. There was an excited buzz around the map. The kids were supposed to figure out the route to Vapiano. Daivik joined in. Here is another pattern. There was so much excitement in the air and Daivik was keen to share it. Only it was taking the form of a real time commentary, an obvious account of an event that you are watching yourself. (Ravi Shastri, anyone?!). "Mom, see, there is a map", "you know, we have to tell the teachers how to go there", "see, Frank, Judie, Kuby, they are all trying to find it out", "see, the teachers are checking if they are correct"...

I could only imagine the rest of his day. Of him identifying a partner, holding his / her hands and walking in rows of two to the bus stop, waiting there, boarding the bus, going to the factory, settling down, listening to the brief, wearing the 'uniform', watching them make the pasta, and then making and messing it themselves, settling down for lunch, returning back...But I knew I will not hear any of this from him.  Here is another emerging pattern, a distinctly adult-like one. By the time I ask him about his day in the evening, the events will be long in the past. An exciting event is over, and along with it, that excitement too. A thing to look forward to losing its magic in the act of being attained.

Sure enough, later in the evening when I asked him about his day he shrugged and gave an impatient reply, "made pasta, ate pasta".

puddles

It had rained a while ago. Daivik and me were walking back home. As we turned a corner, I saw the pavement ahead leading to home. But Daivik saw something else, he saw joy. Simple, pure joy. The pavement was full of puddles of water of varying sizes. He stepped into one spontaneously and looked at me carefully for my reaction. I didn't say anything but waited for him to finish his thing. He jumped into the second, I waited. He jumped into the third, I waited. Fourth, fifth...twentieth. I waited, waited, it ended up being a long and silent walk home, but I wasn't thinking anything in particular. I did however remember this cute video and was smiling at myself.

Daivik is considerably older than the kid in the video. At some point he is going to stop jumping into the puddles. I was hoping to myself that this point does not arrive any time soon. At the end of the road, as we entered home he came up to me and said  "Appa, you are my best friend". "You know why", he continued, "because, you let me jump in the water and waited for me".