Murmuration

Daivik was excited about the birthday invitation from his friend Simon. It was a fine summer day, with clear blue skies and happy chirping birds. The park was about the size of a large cricket ground with trees surrounding the periphery and a few scattered around in the middle. It was still early in the day and the park was yet to be invaded by the bare-chested, beer loving, sun worshipers. Which meant the kids, about ten of them, had the whole park to themselves. It was supposed to be a 'football' party.  There were two footballs. But there was also : one cartwheel and one large garbage can with wheels, far more interesting than a little ball with no wheels.  So the footballs were abandoned even before the first kick as the kids flocked the cart wheel : some went in, some stood on the sides and some decided to push it. They went up a little slope and then let the thing go. It was scary for us, the parents, to watch it from a distance, but the sounds coming from that direction  were cries of joy, a.k.a war cries. Me, me, let me in, you push, next time I push, no not that way, yeaaaahhhhh....At this point, one of them discovered the large garbage can. They managed to roll it to the middle of the park. Ah, what fun a graffiti laden trash can hold ! It is beyond the powers of imagination of the adult brain...

Daivik, watching me watching him, came running over to excitedly report what I was seeing. Soon he got more interested in reporting  the events that were happening rather than participating in them. I thought my presence there was getting counter productive and silently retired to a quiet corner of the park and started reading. But the sounds carried and I could watch them from a distance. The cart wheel and the garbage can were soon abandoned and they started running around  all over the park, still in a group. From my spot  I could hear the distinct ebbing and fading of their buzz. It was like a swarm of bees in tandem flight. There was no intent or purpose. There was no search for meaning. There was, if any thing at all, that single moment. That moment of joy, of fun, of laughter, of being.

Quite suddenly, they were right next to the tree where I was leaning on. It was a beautiful tree, with a wide trunk and very low leafy branches. Daivik 'discovered' me and came running over. He sat next to me for two seconds, sharing the joy of the moment and transmitting it to me and started running back to his friends. It is interesting to watch him run, with his distinctive way of bending his elbows and placing his hands . He suddenly slowed as the low branches brushed  against his face. He raised his hands and without stopping grabbed a few leaves, came running back to me, deposited them in my hands saying, 'Appa, here is a gift for you', and before I could respond, ran back to join the swarm.

Thank you Daivik, for the wonderful gift. 

Doraemon

“Daivik, come for dinner”

“Daivik”

“Daivik”

“Daivik”

“Daivik, how many times should I call, can you come now?”

“You are watching Doraemon again. Let me find out what exactly is there in that Doraemon that you are not even hearing me ”

Nobita wants to impress Shizuka with his non-existent fishing skills and so goes to a bridge to try it out. Much to his discern, Gian and Suneo join in. The river however is small and polluted. Of course, there are no fishes. An elderly gentleman passing by tells that once upon a time, about 70 years ago, the river used to be much cleaner, there used to be a lot of fishes. Nobita and co cannot believe this. They want to check it out themselves. But how to do it? Turns out that Shizuka is researching about the city and has found a map from 70 years before. Doraemon reaches into his infinity pouch to access the fourth dimension. He pulls out the “map transporter gadget”, a device that transports you across time to the spatial co-ordinates of the said map. So Nobita et al jump into the device and are instantly transported to the same spot 70 years ago. How cool is that ! The city is much greener, the river much wider and cleaner. Oh, look, there are fishes around. They take out their fishing gear when a local boy arrives and guides them in fishing. Meanwhile Gian and Suneo discover a raft and start streaming down the river. Doraemon gets alerted. There is a big problem. The “map transporter gadget” works only within the limits of the original map. And Gian and Suneo are reaching its edge. It is a fascinating problem. They are transported back in time to a restricted spot in space, and are fast approaching its confines. Can they cross it? Will they be able to come back? Will they be sucked into a dimensionless void ? What exactly happens now? It is edge of the seat stuff. These are serious scientific problems, the solutions to which are currently accessible only to imagination. Doraemon, however, has a idea. From his infinity pouch he pulls out another gadget (a map edge extractor, or something like that!). It is a rope that traps the people at the edge of this time warp and pulls them back into safety. The friends are safe again and after catching enough fish, return back to the present.

“Appa”

“Appa”, I hear a feeble voice from a great distance. It barely registers.

“Appa”, it comes again, stronger now.

It is Daivik. He jolts me out. “Appa, how many times to call you, I’m hungry now”.

Gosh, the tables have turned! Instead of getting Daivik up for dinner, I got sucked into the Doraemon universe and Daivik had to extricate me.  

“Yes, Daivik, I’m coming”.

An anniversary (of sorts)

It started off as a mild form of amusement, probably even a little escape. It evolved slightly as a way to share little ‘Daivik moments’ with friends and family (“Daivik moments”, as defined by the “native states” of Daivik, the states that vanish when you pick up the camera to capture them!).  It has now reached its current avatar of this little blog.

 It is unbelievable and almost incredible that it has sustained for a full year now, at a rate of slightly more than one post every week – an incredibly brisk pace by my admittedly lazy standards. Most amazingly, never once did I felt forced to do it, and never once did I have to dig into reserves of memory to hunt for stories. They have come, so to speak, of themselves. Most of them have been real time, some of them a bit lagged.

When I started, I wondered if it was a good thing to do, to put up aspects of his life in the open. There were issues that I had to consider, how will he react when he grows up? (He, of course, is now aware of the blog. “Are you writing about me?”, he once asked when he saw me at the computer. He had had a little bruise at the kindergarten that day. He stretched out his finger, pointed at the bruise and said “Can you tell them that I cut my finger today”). Am I boring people with needless details? How much is too much? But overtime, the responses have been very encouraging and put these apprehensions to rest.  The blog is becoming a sort of, as a friend put it, “diary”. Another friend told me he could “chart the trajectory of Daivik’s growth”. On another note, it has been an amazing discovery that these stories, despite their distinct ‘Daivikness’, have a certain universality about them.

The blog has had some very interesting side-effects too. It has let me reconnect with old friends, it has helped me make new ones, it has given me interesting insights into the personality of kids, it has given me access to new tips on parenting, it has had people asking for updates, it has even served as a conversation starter at parties. The whole process has been utterly charming and I take this opportunity to thank all of you for your encouragement and assuring responses.

Now, as an anniversary special for the blog, here is a little quiz to all the enthusiastic readers :) Please take a moment to respond by email / facebook / comments below. This will not take a long time :)

1) What is your favorite ‘Daivik moment’ ?
2) What is your least favorite thing about the blog?

      3) Anything else (for example, how will you do it differently?)

And, Oh, did I already mention that we like your feedback?

p.s : I’m using “Daivik” as a sort of generic name. Of course, it includes his little sister as well!

p.p.s : I take the liberty to take this liberty until I can no longer take it J

Feeling happy

Jatila had to cross the forest on his way to school but was scared to cross it all by himself.  He told about his fear to his mother who provided a solution. His big brother Madhusudhan, who lives in the forest, will join him from the next day, but Jatila has to call out for him. The next day Jatila reaches the forest edge and calls out for Madhusudhan, who does not come at first but after seeing Jatila’s persistence comes out and agrees to walk with him across the forest.

At this point in the story, Daivik started laughing. There was no obvious reason to laugh, I did not tell any joke, but there he was, laughing away. It was a splendid laughter, a deep throated one, and it was coming in waves. It was the sort of laughter that is so rare for its spontaneity, for its gaiety, for its merriment, for its sheer joy.  It was a laughter that transcended its source and delved deep into the being of the person. It is the sort of laughter that life has an uncanny way of taking away from you. I basked in the glory of that joyful laughter for a moment. But then, reason raised its head. What exactly is he laughing for? As one wave was subsiding, I asked him softly, “Daivik, what are you laughing for?”. “Jatila found Madhusudhan”, he said simply and continued to laugh. I did not understand. I repeated my question. “I’m happy”, he said, without elaborating further.

When I put the two together, I was stunned. Daivik was happy that Jatila found Madhusudhan, that Jatila does not have to cross the forest alone. And that happiness was coming out in the form of that laughter!  

“I’m happy for you”, we say this sometimes. We say this to people who have gained some form of happiness, a new car, a new home, a new job, a new partner, a promotion. We say this as a way to share that happiness.  We claim to feel the happiness of another person partly because we can identify with their situation, we can put ourselves, so to speak, in their shoes. We may even be genuine about it. Daivik’s identification with Jatila was so complete, so unalloyed by any traces of falsity,  that I doubt if Daivik could have been any happier had he himself been rescued from the situation. I seriously doubt if we, the non-Daivik's (and by Daivik, I include all his peers as well), with all our compulsions and complications, can reach this level of identification with another. And Jatila does not even exist!  Daivik’s case suggests that this state is, however, not entirely unreachable. Perhaps it is another instance of things that are innate in us which we “grow out” of as we “lose” our childhood. 

A for Apple

Or, perhaps an Ant. That is how it used to be when I was learning these things.  Apparently, it has changed. When Daivik and me were walking past our park, a supermarket van crossed us. The van had a huge “E”, the logo for the chain Edeka, written on it. Daivik said, “Appa, see, that is the Edeka van.” “How do you know?”, I asked. “There is an E written”, he said, adding, “E is for Edeka”. This sounded somewhat odd to me.  I was taught in school that E is for Elephant. I asked him, “E is for Edeka, Daivik?” “Yes Appa”, he replied with an unnerving conviction. “Like A is for Aldi”.