a delicate balance

Friday was a really tough start to a day. I felt like a complete loser. It is one of those days when you start to question yourself and especially your skills as a parent. I have always maintained that it doesn’t matter what happens to the results as long as you have tried your best and you put in a great effort.

We have had enough stress over getting a poem for Jispa to recite for the elocution. The teachers in her school don’t help at all. This is contrast to our school days when the parents were completely uninvolved in the process. This time we got a poem and it was accepted. Suddenly on Thursday evening Jasmine calls me to tell me that Jispa won the second place at the competition. I was so dam angry. Why? Not because she missed first place but we never did really have the time to practice. I taught her a couple of times and that was it. She was still nowhere near as good as she could be and she was emphasizing the words and pausing rather than one smooth flow. It was pretty irritating. Why was I not told that the competition is on a particular date.

In the morning I was angry at Jispa. Why dint you tell me? Also whenever I asked you to practice with me afterwards you always made an excuse. She told me that she would practice with her school teacher every day. But Hell… your school teacher ... she doesn’t know anything about elocution, does she? Does she teach you to vary your tone, to put the right emphasis? They don’t know anything and you think that is enough.

She told me that it’s ok nah? Wasn’t I the one who didn’t care if she won or lost? Yes, I don’t care if you win or lose, but it pisses me off to see inferior effort done. Both your mom and I put in enough stress to search for your poem. We go through tons of poems, we beg and check with other mothers for interesting poems and we then try and get one that’s interesting. So you better start practicing earnestly with us or you are in for trouble. There is a lot of work to be done and losing first place just because you have not tried enough, that’s pretty irritating. Whenever I wanted to teach her she would say that her head is spinning or its paining or give some excuse. That was really bad. I never knew that the competition was coming up so I could crank up the pressure. It seems Jispa just told Jasmine about the competition in the morning while being dropped off to school. Jasmine also said, now what to do… best of luck and do well. Wasn’t she supposed to tell us what’s going on, especially since we are involved parents and especially when it comes to elocution. Arrrggghhhhh.

This was so bloody darn frustrating. Coming close and letting go just on a whim! Jispa needs to realize the sacrifice we go through when she does something. I am happy not being the bad guy. It’s the best to be a father that is all loving and caring and doesn’t piss you off. That’s an easy one. But to have one that pushes you to do better, it requires the father to be a jack ass at times. And bloody hell that’s a difficult thing to do. Balancing the equation on both sides is a great challenge. She got a few from me that morning. And in the evening I hugged her and told her I was sorry but I really did need to know and she really did need to tell us and practice with us. She said she was sorry as well.

There – that’s that. Delicate balance achieved. An uneasy balance only to be tipped over on either side at the slightest extraneous factor. Till then – a piece of cute news. Saturday we celebrated our 14^th anniversary and Jispa had a surprise gift for us. A card for each of us and a special present. She made for Jasmine a cat out of sponge and for me she gave me a cover. A cover with cash in it. She gave me 125 bucks cash as a present. That was all she had. I didn’t know what to say. Thanks Jispa. Many thanks. Can we buy something with it later? Girls… they are so bloody adorable.

Bahut saara gyan!

I got this question in one of my previous blogs as a comment – “This question is unrelated to this post though would really appreciate your thoughts. Till what time is it alright for parents to hold the dreams/aspirations of their children ransom to religion and culture. And after what stage (if at all) is it justifiable to break free of these chains? You are free to choose not to answer at all :)”

Now I officially feel like an agony aunt on national TV.  Most of the time we get to see people with no expertise or experience waxing eloquence on things well beyond their grasp. Under normal circumstances I would have simply answered your question in one word. But these days I seem to be short of blog topics. Jispa has been growing up and all the cute stuff is slowly coming to a close. Most of the stuff I seems to have an opinion on seems to have been expressed already on the blog. What more can I write about. Or possibly my mind is currently in a state of flux. I am growing up and questioning a lot of my beliefs. Life is moving rapidly. Most the time the constant belief that remains with me is that ‘such is life, sit back and enjoy its turns and twists. That is possibly very boring to write in a blog. Just sit back and watch. How many times can I write that? There is politics at play in the office – just sit back and watch. There is politics at the gymkhana – just sit back and watch. There is politics within the team – just sit back and watch. What all can I write. Suddenly I feel like the Buddha, smiling as the world unfolds itself in front.

Yesterday I was having a conversation with someone going through a pessimistic phase of life. To him I was saying, sure India is going through shit, but that’s ok. When I was growing up we did not have anything to latch on to. I am happy for whatever we have. I couldn’t have imagined that I would find myself, where I find myself today. Mere pass, gaadi hai, bungla hai, paise hai… and so on. And of course like the anti hero – mere bhi paas ma nahi hai. She kicked me out some time back. Though now we seem to be getting along fine. She has made an effort not to get on my case and I have made an effort to repair those bridges. Thank god that while God gave me an ego he also gave me the temperance to allow me to swallow it. So coming back to the conversation. He seemed pessimistic about the future and on the fact that he was building white elephants. I looked back at him and smiled. These are problems of having and not problems of not having. As long as they are problems of having, they can be solved. The problems of not having are the ugly ones. He smiled at me and said that I am lucky that I have a positive frame of mind. Well, I told him that I have been kicked on my butt too many times to be negative. I can’t live otherwise. Of course I know my butt is going to be whipped and I know by whom but if I don’t care about the pain you can inflict on me then by that extension you have no power over me. He smiled again. I think he thinks of me as the Buddha. Haha. Like a colleague often looks at me and tells me ‘you have switched to Buddha mode’. I like that mode. Its helps me deal with a whole host of shit.

(side story - he gave me this link which i agree with but still doesnt dampen my CURRENT optimism - http://open.salon.com/blog/sean_paul_kelley/2009/03/26/reflections_on_india)

Jispa and Jasmine are another set of interactions to watch. They also have their own weird relationship. Jispa is growing up and Jasmine is quite the amiable person. But they can’t fight on so many things. In fact they keep fighting all the time. Till Sunday when Jispa’s vacations were on, they were having the best of time. They were hugging each other, playing with each other, walking with each other, chatting with each other… anything but fight with each other. I was amazed. This was too good to be true. This can’t be. Jispa was having a great time with Jasmine with no arguments or fights. Normally I am the peace keeper and the judge / jury between the two. But I was happy to be in the background or even in the foreground as both of them ganged up on me for some good humored fun. I have always believed that a family must be able to criticize itself and each other. I should be able to criticize Jispa or Jasmine and vice versa. Jispa had a lot of freedom to correct me and tell me what she thinks of me. She can say what she wants. Only thing I do is stop her from being disrespectful in public. She needs to avoid that. Jasmine is not so open to this. So Jispa has to learn that daddy and mommy are a different kettle of fish and need to be treated separately. That is not parenting 101, where both parents are expected to be consistent and not at odds with each other. I have often told Jispa that, a certain thing is Mummy’s idea not mine, so while I don’t endorse it, I am not going to oppose it. And I if think it’s not that great an idea, I tell Jispa about it. But at the same time I tell her that I may not be right, or I don’t have the means to implement otherwise or it’s simply not my department and hence we are following mommy’s idea. I would like her to realize that two people need not have the same idea at all times and just because there is divergence of views there need not be chaos or discord. So coming back… all the love and affection lasted till Sunday night. The last day of the vacation! Come Monday both were again on each other’s throat. That just showed one thing. Nothing was fundamentally wrong with the relationship, only that the pressures of time and duty which are inexorably linked to the clock can create all sorts of chaos for a relationship. And all sorts of complications creep in only to disappear when these externalities of time and scarcity are removed. So I have learnt to just see and smile as the world unfolds itself.

Today I was deconstructing the poem that Jispa is going to perform for the elocution. It’s about Ram and Raavan. The way I see it, it is like a bard singing in praise of the lord restoring order and dharma to the land. I was explaining that Jispa must bring out the love for the Lord when the line on Ram comes up, and then she added – should I bring about hate when the villain comes in? Well no. there isn’t really a villain in Hindu Mythology. Raavan wasn’t really a bad guy as more recent stories have made him out to be. He was a good guy, a great devotee of Shiva, his population loved him and doesn’t your own poem talk about Lanka being made of Gold. Then I helped her understand one version of the Ramayana. Raavan was a good guy but why did he go for Sita. That is because His sister Surpanakha egged him on and told him to take revenge for her humiliation. That’s because she coveted Ram and when Ram refused she asked for Lakhsman and when both said no, she tried to kill Sita; when Lakhsman chopped her nose and ears. But wasn’t that an excessive thing to do. Lakhsman need not have humiliated her. HE could have just stood in front and warned her that if you make one move I will kill you. Unnecessary humiliation that started off a war.

I am also just thinking right now. That is such a mean thing to do. One student once told me, that sir do you know so many girls have this huge crush on you. Of course I am aware. Sometimes it’s obvious and sometimes it isnt but I would be pretty insulted if there weren’t any. Someone cool and young comes in with contrary opinions, cracks tons of jokes and has a good class, it’s easy to have a crush. I too had a crush on so many teachers. It’s ok. And I told her that I always try and treat these kids with a lot of love back. Some kids come close and touch you to hold you or try and talk to you. I try and not break their heart. I am always sweet to them and their boyfriends and everyone. After all having a crush on you, the way I see it, is a responsibility to be shouldered well. It’s a great privilege. It’s cute to have attention, but it’s also extremely important that it’s treated well. Of course it will pass like they all do. But it should pass with fond memories and not with malice. Which is what Lakhsman spread.

So that’s what he did. So Raavan came in and took Sita. But not before Sita got greedy for the golden deer. They were in the jungle so the rules of Jungle applied. Might was right and Sita could be taken by force and deception. Ram even left Lakhsman to guard her but sensing that Ram was in danger, Sita sent Lakhsman off while giving him a sharp rebuke. He made a lakhsman rekha which in simple mythology is a magical line which an enemy could not cross but in terms of meaning was simply a boundary of the house. The house is civilization where laws of civil society applied. In the jungle, might ruled. So While Sita was in civil society she was governed by the laws of civil society hence Raavan couldn’t enter. So he tricked her out and abducted her. Raavan in many ways also did not break any rules. He also did not force himself on Sita but kept her with all respect in Lanka. He too was a good man but he was proud of his powers hence he still twisted the laws and came under the influence of his sister. And Ram also sent a warning to Raavan that give me my wife back and I will peacefully leave. When Raavan refused, the war began.

‘So that’s that Jispa’. It’s not that easy. Not all are white and not all are black. Raavan was not evil. So possibly unlike what your poem suggests while he was Abimaani (proud), but not atyachari (cruel?), and Ramw as the man who restored Dharma. “what is dharma” she asked. I was lucky to have read up Dharma a few days ago and hence I explained to her that it was a simple rule or code of righteousness that ensured people did their duties. Otherwise there would be chaos. She asked if it was like paap (sin) and punya (brownie points). No. that is a point system while Dharma is a code of what you are to do irrespective of points.

So culture is possibly important as it is something that we can pass on over to our children. Religion is also part of our culture. But it can’t be restrictive. These are not chains. These are ladders, steps on which we climb over. Culture by definition must change. You must have a healthy respect for culture. That is obvious. But what is not obvious is that you must have a healthy disrespect for culture. I am not a great son (my mom kicked me out) and I definitely not a great dad (I still mess up big time), so I can’t be the right guy to tell you what is right. But I definitely don’t see culture as encumbrances. Move with the times. Step back, retain what you want, and throw what you feel. Try and understand what is culture and rituals. When Jasmine’s grand mom passed away recently I was explaining to my nephew what each of the rituals could possibly mean. why we would carry burning cow dung to the cremation center (there was possibly no fire to be found in the jungle those days), why the pot of water must be broken from under your feet and never to look behind (symbolizing the end and don’t look behind so that you leave those gone forever and possibly don’t get scared by ghosts). Culture / rituals have meaning. A lot has been lost in translation. Have the patience to understand if possible or the curiosity to translate to what you think right. The Ram story also is a bit my interpretation and a lot thanks to reading Devdutt Patnaik. There are no absolute truths, only interpretations of culture. Likely or unlikely. And in this context I see religion as nothing different from culture. So that too is always a change. You can tell stories about them, you can explain its understanding and rules. You can inspire but I don’t think you can bind. Lying, smoking, non-veg is not bad as it’s against culture, but because it’s not good. Period. But then as an adult you are free to do what you want to do. Till then home ties bind you. So in effect till Jispa listens to me, culture is binding her. But I am telling her not to be bound by it. hmm… I did tie myself into knots didn’t I? But like the name of the blog says. Opposites must reconcile. I am binding her but I am not. I am telling her not to obey anything but if she is does or doesn’t she is obeying or not obeying. Both ways it’s a standoff. Opposites do reconcile in ways we think not possible.

I have been watching few Sherlock Holmes episodes. “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”. What’s the relation of this to the blog. Nothing really. I just thought of it. It’s a nice quote. Full stop.

When was the last time you spoke to yourself?

Experience is important. That is saying the obvious but having an insatiable curiosity with a deep urge to relate seemingly disparate experiences or incidents at every possible instance – that is what magnifies experience. I think I said much more than I can chew. But simply speaking…

Yesterday Jispa and I were trying to get her Hindi elocution right and she was saying it in her style. I told her, that’s how second grade students say it. They try and emphasis every third word. It’s like a jerky dance move. You don’t need to space out every third word or line with a space followed by an emphasis. You need to sing it, or say it in a way that it sounds straight but vary your tone to get your emphasis. Let it be a one smooth flow but the variation will allow for the emotion to get through. I explained to her while dancing and by singing and by humming. What is it that you like?

Now where did I get that theory from? I also did not know I had it in my brain till I explained it to Jispa and it did sound quite right. Then I asked Jasmine if I made sense. And then I asked her “you know where I got this from?” I realized that the genesis of this theory was in a Ted video I once saw of Benjamin Zander. Here he explains how kids while learning the piano first start by giving an impulse every note then every second and … till he reaches a point where there is only one impulse and he.. he becomes a one buttock player. Haha. Yes that’s what he says. See this video and you will love it. This is explained within the first four minutes of the video.

Benjamin Zander on Ted – the transformative power of classical music

What I loved is that I had seen this video years ago and I could relate what he saying to some other thing in life. You need a lot of experiences in life. A lot of exposures. All exposure is good. That’s what I love about my field. It thrives on multiple exposures and application of these exposures in varied places. Like when designing a motif I could explain how many horns does an Indian rhino have or using the ghariyal in another. Or using the ending of the movie Parinda to explain to the creative guy why his ending will be difficult but critical to the entire design, or some other vague stuff.

These days, as if there isn’t enough to do, I have gotten myself elected as a subcommittee member with the Matunga gymkhana swimming department. As a part of that I thought we should design t shirts and amongst other things I saw the logo. On the logo were the words in Sanskrit - Sharira maatram khalu dharma sadhanam. Which lead me to research what it means? Simplistically it meant that the Body is an instrument to fulfill your dharma.

“Any acharas (customs and rituals) which can contribute to better health fall under this category of acharas. It is told that sareeram adhyam khalu dharma sadhanam. Body is the first tool for performing the dharma. Hence health is very important factor for maintaining a dharmic life.”

Now what can I write on the tshirt. “dharma” can also be interpreted as religion as opposed to the path of righteousness, which led to me further research on what the hell is Dharma? If I need to simplify I need to be clear. It led me to more research. Amongst a lot I found nuggets of wisdom like:

“How the acharas used to get refined? It is said that acharyaath paadam aadatthey paadam sishya swamedhaya paadam sa brahmachaaribhya sesham kalakramena cha. One quarter of the acharas is to be learned from the teacher and one quarter by the student himself, one quarter by discussing with others and the last part during the process of living ( by addition, deletion, modification and correction).”

I agree. As a teacher I can only give you so much. Max one fourth. Then it is up to us to push our learnings. Discussion with others and the process of living teaches us 50% of what we know. I don’t meet to many people with whom I can discuss stuff similar to what I like but I find tons of people with whom I can discuss stuff that they like. Together they add up. And the biggest teacher is life itself. Hmm… this stuff is pretty cool.

Then I got this nugget:

“Is it compulsory that every Hindu should follow these acharas ?  It is left to his/her discretion whether to practice or not to do so. It is said that Swagrame pooranmacharas anya graame thadarkhakam pattane tu thath paadam yaatre balaath acharatheth. If you are living in your own village, follow all the acharas. If you are living in other villages, follow one half of the acharas. And if you are in a city /town one quarter of the acharas are to be practiced. But in en tour, acharas need not be followed like a child.”

This is also true and it sounded a lot like what my dad once told me. At the early stage of his career he was in London for a year. I was conceived there. And later for a large part of my childhood we stayed in Dubai. He said – when you are in a foreign country you have to be like them to enjoy that life. You have to follow their customs. Like in London you have to go to the pubs and enjoy your beer on Friday evening. That’s their culture and when you are there you have to be like them. My dad would have best understood what the Sanskrit was saying. He was raised in a small town in Gujarat and then moved to the city of Mumbai and then moved abroad and afterwards returned.

It’s true. There are rules in your life or broad principals you live by. A lot have been taught to you (yes yes in moral science class), a lot you have seen around you being followed and lot you have seen broken around you. What is important is what you learn and interpret from all that is available to you. Nothing is sacrosanct. There are no dogmas. Like another cliché ‘believe noting, question everything’. Follow your own path. A good teacher can only open your mind to a way or a style of thinking. A good student builds his life and his thinking on top of that.

That’s what I like about marketing. There are so many instances where I can take one learning and apply it elsewhere. That’s possibly what I love about teaching nd that’s possibly why I love parenting. See… writing this blog help me realized this. You don’t even need to discuss with someone to learn more. You can learn more by simply talking to yourself. When was the last time you spoke to yourself?

its a tough job

Time again for Hindi elocution. This time we officially ran out good Hindi poems. I am dam pissed with her school. It was always left to the teacher in my school to give the poems and get the best students to recite. I remember the teacher spending long hours with the student trying to get them to recite the poems well.

These days it is completely left to the parents to search and get a poem. The teacher was telling Jispa to tell us to type Hindi poems for standard four in Google and get poems. What the hell! Of course I am aware of Google. That’s where we always first reach for. This time we were completely idea bankrupt. Jasmine and I always keeps an eye out for poems. She photographed an entire poem book from a friend. We choose a couple and sent it only to be rejected. One was too simple and another from another source was too advanced. Dam you. Beaten, we told Jispa that sorry, this year we don’t think you can take part. We don’t have a poem. Being the last year’s first place winner, the teacher was especially keen for her to participate. She suggested that we talk to another kid’s mother as that kid had two poems. Jasmine called her only to be refused as the second poem was a backup for the next year. Fair.

Luckily, out of the blue Jasmine remembered a friend who had a cousin in Rajkot who was good at elocution. Their school book had a lovely poem which was mailed to Jasmine. Voila! Saved by the skin of our teeth. We sent it to school. This time I told Jispa “don’t give it to teacher and ask her if its ok. Give it and tell her that we found a great poem that we are keen to do”. Jispa came back yesterday to tell us that when she submitted the poem saying those words there was a frown on the teacher’s face which turned to a smile as she read it and said ok. Whew.

So now the saga begins. Getting the poem memorized, then getting the pronunciation and diction right and then the voices. How much for her to do and how much for us to stress her out!

Also now the swimming season has started in earnest. Tomorrow is the first of the swimming meets. Let’s start. Jispa got a brand new sports bag to carry her swim gear in every day. She has been training long and hard. The kids are divided into age groups two years apart. With even a year being too much for these kids, two years puts the lower age kids at a distinct disadvantage. It’s officially called the disadvantage year and the advantage year. So Jispa is in the disadvantage year this year. This will be her first serious disadvantage year and it’s important that she competes well in it. That separates the wheat from the chaff. But of course it’s a long way to go, but you have to compete well in a disadvantage year to really believe you have a chance of making it.

Yesterday, after jasmine and I were discussing some stuff around Jispa’s poetry school and swimming preparations, we looked at each other and remarked – Dam it man, parenting is so bloody tough.

listen - its bloody difficult thing to do!

It’s time again for the annual elocution ritual. Searching for a decent poem with enough emotions and then getting the teacher at school to choose it and then getting Jispa to learn it and then putting the emotions in it. This time also as usual she had to send a few for the teacher to choose from. Jasmine was quite bugged when the teacher dismissed our original choice as that was being done by someone else. This has happened for the second time in a row. Last year also there was enough to and fro about this. Which poem to do? Either it’s too common or someone was already doing it or something else.

This time around we finally agreed on Clarence by Shel Silverstien. Shel has been a lucky break for us. I remember clearly when I first bought his book. It was in a Crossword store in Powai when I chanced upon it. Actually a friend recommended it to me. She said it was a really cool book. I bought it, I liked it and then I went online and searched about him. I realized there were more Shel books on offer but there weren’t easily available in India. So I hunted down the office of Oxford book store in Kolkata. Then I caught a customer service executive who was a really sweet lady and she helped me trace these books down. I then got my Kolkata office to pick it up and have it couriered to me. The main reason I bought it was for Jispa’s elocution. Of course Jispa was too young at the time but I knew it would help. And it has been a huge help.

Internet is good but it’s difficult to get a poem you want from there. This book helps you go through the many poems he has written and they are all for a small child. I guess this is possibly the last year she would get to recite from here. Next year onwards her poems will have to be more … mature? I guess.

So this time I trained her as well. She is selected for the final round which I think is going to be held tomorrow. I have been busy with office and Jasmine called me last evening wondering where I was. She wanted me to get home and get her poetry right. When I reached home I realized that Jispa’s class teacher had corrected the recitation and she had changed it so much that it sounded completely different. Jasmine was pretty pissed. There was another mother who was equally pissed. She called Jasmine and wondered what to do. Forget it – was Jasmine’s advice. That’s been my rule as well. When your child gets caught between the teacher and the parent what do you do? I spoke to Jispa and she recited the way her teacher wanted her to. I said fine. I asked her which one she preferred. “I like your version. It has many emotions”. Hmm. “but you can’t do that in school nah? Your teacher will want her version”. She nodded. So I just advised her to listen to her teacher and told her to follow it in practice and if you really feel something is wrong or you want to change it then do it on the final stage. Follow your heart, I guess. Once you win or lose your teacher can’t do much, I thought to myself. I don’t what I am teaching her and if that’s a smart thing to do but hell, that’s what you need to do at times. Take your own call.

So let’s see what happens. Its better which Jispa. She manages this well. I guess she is used to many people trying to coach her all the time. I have always taught het o be balanced about it. Listen to them all and think what you must do best. In this case she has learnt that there is no bloody point in arguing with the teacher. But it’s a shame. What a loss for the teacher if you come down so high handed on your students. You teach them not to confront, not to ask why and not to reason. Only to listen.

This is very easy to preach but very difficult to implement. I don’t know, but I am sure that I have been high handed many times. With Jasmine, with Jispa and with my office colleagues. I would/ might dismiss them forthwith. I would have made up my mind that you are useless or that you know jack about it and I would find it a waste of time to listen to you. God help me when I think I know it all.

But I am trying. And I want to try harder. I don’t want to be the guy who dismisses arguments. This is bloody difficult. So many times you see the answer faster than anyone else. So many times you see and count three to four steps ahead, and in my speed to get work done I might not listen hard enough. Naysayers are important but difficult to listen to. Some of them are also at fault. They don’t speak up strongly enough. I have heard this before – the force of my personality pushes people to doubt what they themselves are thinking and feel brushed aside when I am making a point. But then I always have thought, it’s up to them to put their point across equally vociferously. Go ahead. Push me back. I am listening. But a quiet dissenter is also important to the system. He may be shy and quiet but it is in my interest to get him out, to get him to talk, to get him to dissent. I ask so many times in meetings that does anyone have a counter view. I keep asking that these days, in the hope that people open their mouths and talk freely. I guess I will have to do it more number of times and sit quiet more often. But that is freaking difficult to do. What to do when you see the meeting heading nowhere or people not seizing the opportunity that is there for all to see. It’s easy to sit and criticize the guy who opens his mouth but how difficult is it to stick your neck out and talk.

Oh dam. I have never understood this. I am trying to solve it, but it’s a forced solution. I don’t think my heart is in it. I prefer people who talk and speak and then we resolve it amicably and forget all disputes and work together. People carry their prejudices as well, but then that is another blog post.

For now - read this

Clarence lee from Tennessee

Loved the commercials he saw on TV.

He watched with wide believing eyes

And bought everything they advertised-

Cream to make his skin feel better,

Spray to make his hair look wetter,

Bleach to make his white things whiter,

Stylish jeans that fit much tighter.

Toothpaste for his cavities,

Powder for his doggie's fleas,

Purple mouthwash for his breath,

Deodorant to stop his sweat.

He bought each cereal they presented,

Bought each game that they invented.

Then one day he looked and saw

"A brand-new Maw, and better Paw!

New improved in every way-

Hurry order yours today!"

So, of course, our little Clarence

Sent off for two brand-new parents.

The new ones came in the morning mail,

The old ones were sold at a garage sale.

And now they all are doing fine:

His new folks treat him sweet and kind,

His old ones work at an old coal mine.

So if your Maw and Paw are mean

And make you eat your lima-beans

And make you wash and make you wait

And never let you stay up late

And scream and scold and preach and pout,

That simply means they're wearing out.

So send off for two brand new parents

And you'll be as happy as little Clarence.

 

we know not what we want

When I was a kid I always fancied myself as an actor. I knew I had the emotional range, I knew I did not have stage fright and it surely can’t take this much to win an elocution competition. I could be loud, I could be clear and I could have tons of expressions. But the truth is… I did not win any competition. How could I? you need to take part if you want to win.
Jispa has taken part every year in her school elocution competition. She is pretty cool, loud and she loves to modulate her voice and give out emotions while reciting. But she never hit the first place yet. Either second or third. That is good for me. I always wanted her to participate but I was pretty cool, if she won or not. Winning is a combination of a lot of things. The choice of poetry is also important. It must be difficult, allow for a range of emotions, long and stuff like that. So finishing in the top tree ain’t too bad.
Especially as Jispa is home coached in elocution. A lot of them from school go for elocution or speech and drama class. I find the very idea ridiculous. Why would need a class for this. Of course as one grows up and if one wants to this up seriously then it’s important to do it professionally, but for now I think the classes for the kids in the subject is nothing but a sham. And of all people, I can do enough for her now. So far I seem to have been proven right.
Our process – first thing, Jasmine and me sit and search for the right poetry. In the English elocution, I just have to open my collection of Shel Silverstein books and there – a large collection of fun poems that allow for tone to be varied during the recital as well as allow for a crucial twist in the end. For Hindi, the problem is far more severe. Till last year, we had a collection of cheap Hindi books that helped us choose a nice poem. Fun poem. But now we have exhausted the stock. No more long, fun, interesting poems there.
So this year I hit the internet in the hope of searching for a nice poem. But I did not even know where to start – elocution poems for kids? Harivanshrai Bacchan? What should I search for? I tried a few forums, a few blogs, anything; in the hope that I would hit something at least. I had been in the past searching for a poem I heard in my school elocution competition. I remember it being funny and the guy had won the competition. All I could remember of it was – gol hai kaise dhara, gol puri papad, isliya masterji, dhara bhi gol hai, marks bhi gol hai… something something. These were just words in between. They weren’t even coherent lines of the paragraph. All these years I returned a blank.
This time while searching on the net I tried some phrases from the poem again and BINGO! It was bloody there. I found the poem. I went crazy. After all these years. I must have been in the eight grade – that’s about in the year 1989 I must have heard the poem for the first time and then I saw it again. The poem name was Vinti (full poem at the end of the blog). Wow. I read through it. It was the same funny poem. But there was one catch. It seemed too advanced for Jispa. In fact to seemed too advanced for me. I did not understand some words I did not know how to pronounce some other words. Dam. What to do?
I showed Jasmine and decided to send the print to school and let the teacher decide. It got selected and we proceeded to get Jispa to learn it. We went too sure of a lot of meanings and pronunciations so we specifically asked Jispa to get it checked form her school Hindi teacher. And we explained the general meaning of the words, sentences and the poem to Jispa. Jispa is now a pro. She put in her own emotions and all we have to do is to mildly correct it here and there. Jasmine and I are also pretty tired these days. We have our hands full managing Jispa’s hectic schedule. We hardly have any time left for practicing elocution. In the evenings, jispa comes home and eats and gets ready and poof… she is asleep.
So Jispa put in a lot of emotions herself and a lot of the grammar and pronunciations were taken care of by her teacher. We put in a few corrections and she was off to go. She told me that her elocution date is a few days off, and then on the D day in the morning, I suddenly asked – it’s today isn’t it. AH yes. ok. best of luck. Jasmine went “aren’t you supposed to wear your normal uniform today for the elocution?”. Oops. Today she was wearing her PE uniform as it was PE day. So I ran inside to iron her uniform and we packed it in and left. One quick round and a few guidelines, a few reminders to be loud and clear and …. She was on her own.
19th Jan 2012. Also our 13th marriage anniversary. Jasmine calls in the afternoon and says “your daughter is such an ass.” “Now what?” I enquire. “She came in and looked all sad. She got in the car and turned her face towards the glass and refused to talk. I kept asking her what happened and then she turned and screamed – I WON!”. Yaaaaaa… good one wow... let me talk to her now..
Now I have always maintained. Forget the results, just focus on having a good time and whether the crowd laughed or clapped. The result is the judge’s problem. That’s what I always told her. SO while I was excited how could I show that on the call? I was excited beyond all what I thought I would be. so I said, “ hey, wow, Dam cool, did the crowd enjoy?” I tried recollecting all the questions I asked the last year when she finished second best and asked them again – when did the crowd laugh, which part they found funny, what did the teachers say, did the judges laugh etc etc. She said, that she came first and she beat K (name withheld). K is the one who normally comes in first. She goes for drama class and Jispa looks up to her. Jispa normally resigns to second place knowing that K is better.
It was a tough moment. I was on top of the world. I did not know that winning the elocution meant so much to me as well. Why? Not that I wanted her to win so much. I was perfectly ok missing first place, coming second or third. Finishing strong and pushing the barriers was what I was always keen on. As I said ‘the result is for the judge, not for the participant’.
I came home to hear the story better. Jispa was a little nervous this time it seemed when the results were getting announced. She was a bit jittery, when the third place was announced. Then there was a joint second result with K and I. Here is where she got ‘wobbly knees’ in her words. She was excited and possibly scared. All or nothing situation. And then it was announced that she had WON! She screamed and she felt like crying. She said that her eyes were moist and she was really excited. Those around her, wished her and some it seems hugged her. And when she went to class, the girls all pounced on her like every time. She is a legend in her class. K is one year older to her and hence in a higher class.
I came in and was emotional for the rest of the evening. I don’t know why – I felt ecstatic and I felt like crying as well. I think over time my tears seemed to have been dried up but I definitely felt the twinge in my eyes. I also felt like screaming and I felt like jumping. I did not know it meant so much to me, I had no clue. Why was I feeling so strong about this? I kept looking at jasmine and I thought I would burst any time. Jasmine knows how much I have wanted to act and how much this means to me.
While I was having a shower, jasmine comes in and tells me. “I told jispa, that papa is always proud of you, but this time he is extra proud of you.” Then she said that “Jispa said, that’s because papa likes elocution a lot nah and he taught me a lot of it and I corrected her saying that papa always wanted to do these things but never got to”. I came off the shower and went to put Jispa to sleep. As usual, her legs were hurting from the swimming and I was to oil and massage her legs. Jispa spoke “I know why you are extra proud of me”. Well yes “I am extra proud, because I always wanted to do well in elocution. When I was in school, we were three kids. India wasn’t so rich, so our parents did what they did best, pushed us to study. We had only one chance to do well in life, and that was by being good in studies. So they pushed us for that and did not encourage us for elocution. I wanted to be a part of elocution, or drama or debate, mom would not really encourage. The only time I did something was when I refused to listen to her and took part in dramatics to win the second best actors award in the play ‘the watermelon cure’. We were asked to study. Mom was busy with running a nursery to get some extra cash, then three kids, home work and everything else. so she focused only on study study study. So funnily while I always tell you it not so important to win, suddenly I am all excited and extra proud now that you have won. It a funny feeling”
Three days hence also while writing this blog I am so bloody emotional. When I first saw her on stage in school, I was a bit emotional. Now that she did well in elocution I am emotional. It means much more than what I thought it meant. What the hell. How little we know of ourselves. As parents the dreams we dream for our kids in spite of our best efforts are bloody ours. We keep trying to avoid mistakes our parents made (or seemed to have made), we want for them what we would have wanted for ourselves, we give them the infrastructure we wished for and want them to win what we wanted to. Funny. This all in spite of repeatedly, and intentionally trying to be a parent that says, its your life, your desires, your feelings. Live them the way you want to. Well at least we are aware of this. What about the kids who parents push them hard towards their own dreams. We may not push, but I got so emotional when she achieved what I buried well down inside of me. My God, am I tired, happy and content. I slept thinking I don’t want anything else of her… at least for now :). Till dream again… knowing or unknowingly.

---- ps - how tough it is to be a parent. I was visibly excited in office and one friend said, take something for her today, a gift. I said - how can I? I always tell her its not important to win and I show no great emotion - win or lose - how can I take a gift for WINNING if i dont take for losing? dam parenting. Bloody hell.

http://www.hyd-masti.com/2008/05/vinti.html

Vinti

hey prabhu itni vinay meri sun lijiye,
is baar meri naav ko us paar tho kar deejiye,
my nahi dartha pralay se ya kisis toofan se,
kaampti hai ruh meri par sadha imthihaan se.

taay-taay taay taay roj rat tha hoon prabhu,
raat din panne palatha hoon prabhu,
bhagya mein na jaane kaun sa abhishaab hai,
raat ko ratna subah maidaan milta saaf hai.

akal ko algebra jayegi jad se pacha,
3 mein se 6 gaye tho aur kya baaki bacha,
pee gayi english humari khopadi ke khoon ko
main samaj na paaya is betuke majmoon ko
paas hona chahata tha fail mujhko kar diya,
zindagi bhar main likh na paya chekislovakiya.

naash ho itihaas ka sun ke samundar beh gaye,
mar gaye woh log rone ke liye hum rah gaye,
shah jahan, humayun, akbar sahab tha,
kaun tha beta na jaane kaun kiska baap tha,
bhoo gol mein ek prashn aaya gol hai kaise dhara.

ek hi pal mein humne likh diya uttar se khara,
gol poodi, kachodi, poohe, papad gol hai,
gol ras gulla, jalebi gol laddu gol hai,
jhoom uthe masterji is anokhe gyaan se
likh diya parche par unhone badi shaan se,
teek hai beta humari lekhni bhi gol hai,
gol hai syahi humari, number bhi tumhara gol hai.
kya karo hindi, maana mujhko isme aata nahi,
laakh sir jakhjhortha kuch samaj pata nahi
gadhya ho ya padhya dono kaal hai mere liye,
dono samajho ji ka janjaal hai mere liye
haay hindi ki jagah main aaj hinda likh gaya,
bainsa ko pashu ki jagah main parinda likh gaya,

prabho chod kar saare sahare aagaya hoon dwaar par,
maar ghoonsa laat thaapad kintu baed paar kar,
hai dayamay har tarah se main daya ka paatr hoon,
naam hai deepti mera is desh ki chaatr hoon.

SANDHYA SHANKAR

its the pain

It’s always the classic. In the quest for finishing the urgent we often don’t have time for what is important. The last couple of years we have had a good slowdown and that meant poor marketing had very little to do. I think I was lucky to have a mind in those years. Those were the days of going home early and spending time with family and ofcourse writng the blogs. I managed to write one blog for every day I was in office. I think the writing made me a better person, in some obscure, self reflecting kind of way. Also I think it has made me a better parent by forcing me to think through my own principles and ideals. And I also managed to discover the power of using RSS. I have been through slowdowns before in my career. I know that the best way to use the slowdown is to really focus inward and try as hard as possible to keep learning and improving yourself. It worked for me in the last year or so. Now that the slowdown is easing off, the pressure on work has gone through the roof with tons of work hitting. Everyday I come in and think about putting in my blog entry and I tread back home unsuccessful. Sometimes I miss the blog writing bit so much. There is so much to write about and there are so many incidents that I wanted to save for later.
Jispa’s school elocution contest was one such incident. It was that time of the year again. We search Shel Silverstien for interesting poems that Jispa could learn and recite. Interesting ones that give adequate tone variation that allow for an interesting learning experience. A twist in the end is always welcome. This year we got her to learn the one titles ‘Sick’. As usual Jasmine’s job was to get her to learn it and my job was to infuse life in it. We worked with Jispa for around a month on this. We had to submit the poem well in advance to the school. On the Friday before the Thursday, on which she had to recite, the teacher told her to change her poem. She asked her to recite the one she had learnt for the interschool competition, last year. That one was Lester. Oh god. And this was when I was in an offsite to Bangalore. So I couldn’t really work with her on the poem as well. But we tried to do our best in the ensuing days and we got her to match readiness. Jasmine and I also decided to register our protest, so we decided to pick her on Thursday and talk to the teacher. We sent that day to realise that Jispa won the third prize. We still made our point to the class teacher and sent the message that we hold the elocution close to our hearts and we believe in taking active part in it. The teacher said that she realised as Jispa told her that we had been practicing for over a month :).
In evening I spoke to Jispa. Did she enjoy the contest? Ya. Did she enjoy learning and reciting the poem? Ya. And after the contest what did you do? “I went and congratulated all the other kids who took part. Especially those from my class.” “Hmm.. why did you do that?” I asked. “because I remembered what you said. to always tell others that they did well, whether I win or lose”. Wow. I felt good. That’s my girl. I must have drilled the sportsman’s anthem into her. It is the way you play your game. So we might have been happy that she won, I tried not to show too much elation. Only happiness. But I really was happy and I told her as much that that is more important than winning.
On teaching…and coaching… I have tried to teach her an interesting new concept that seems to have worked for me. Visualisation. She is learning her swimming well and this Saturday there are trials for the next level. Jasmine is quite irritated that she has progressed well but she seems to keep forgetting certain basics. Cup your hands, reach out and hear your biceps and breathe right. I learnt this stuff from this movie ‘Pride’ and it is similar to what her coach tells her as well. Reach out. Visualisation is something I have learnt in cricket and adapted to my swimming as well as squash. If you are able to think through the technique you can mentally tune yourself to play those shots and they are easy in real life. Same with swimming. I have learnt to swim better purely by thinking about it. So I tried to teach her to think about the swimming technique, cupping hands, reaching out, breathing well. It seems to be working but you never know. We are keen that Jispa takes up swimming well. That would improve her technique, stamina and strength. It also seems to be the thing that we have the right support system for.
She seems to be something of an athlete in the making for now. Its definitely early days and she hasn’t really met competition but I guess the discipline of serious practice and commitment will take her a long way. It is so important to take up any sport in a proper structured manner. I was talking to her on the value of pain and the fact that serious athletes feel pain and befriend it. I told her about a story about Ian Thorpe and that he said he missed pain the most, now that he wasn’t training professionally. The joy that pain gives is something else altogether. Many people ask me what I get standing in the sun for a cricket match and I am not even playing any where near professional. Well, it’s the joy of pain. You can only experience it to know what its like. I hope Jispa experiences it as well.

dho dala

My wife will not enjoy this one, but this graph accurately represents her. (Source here). Though I think the word ‘sad’ need to be replaced by something more apt. How about ‘proud’?


She keeps doing the laundry all the time. Getting the clothes to the washing machine and then drying them. Many times when we are out the whole day, we come in the evening to start the washing machine. Then she does some other work, or reads for about an hour and then comes the chore of drying them. In spite of the fact that we have enough underwear to go on for a week. This is a genetic disorder. My mom in law is forever using the washing machine. Whenever we stay at her place, the clothes I throw in the morning for wash are ready by the evening, the ones I throw in the afternoon are ready by night and the ones I throw at night are ready by… you guess it…. morning. Then the curtains go in, then the towels go in and then what not goes in. If the machine was a leftist it would have struck work by now. And to add to the proof that it is a genetic mutation – her mom’s younger brother (along with his son) run a large industrial laundry. They shifted from their family business to start this. I rest my case.

On the elocution…
Jispa did not make it through to the final rounds of the interschool elocution. A second standard student from her school had made it. Wow. Am I relieved? This was too stressful for me. Everyday, making her revise, changing some nuances but the worst was seeing her caught between me and the teacher. At the event she was quite subdued in her recital and that probably cost her. I kept teaching her to be over the top but I guess she was told otherwise, or got mixed signals. But I am happier doing this without any stress. Next year we will again try and do the internal one and max it with all the fun that comes with it. With the liberty to do whatever Jispa and I deem fit. Seeing the others in action also gave me a sense of the competition and how boring the others are. It just strengthened my resolve to have a blast during the elocutions. I will scour for the most ridiculously loud and funny poem to recite. When I asked Jispa about it and she was also quite keen to do something funny. With that, my resolve has more meaning.

getting it right

What happens when you have two trainers? Hehehe. First we train her at home for the elocution competition and then yesterday her elocution teacher at school trained her. While she did not change the narration too much, basic differences were there in the approach. I teach to be a little over the top in emotion. A little over emotion is ok. With all the kids going for one or two tones, I like to teach at least five six tones if not more. So not everything is loud. Some words are soft, some loud, some with a chuckle, a sad one, a surprise etc… This ensures she stands out in the crowd. With kids coming and going in a procession, elocutions can get boring for the judges as well. My belief is that only if you first entertain, then will you have a chance to win. The teacher has an obvious emphasis on the clarity. She sacrifices emotion for clarity while I do the reverse. Clarity aa jaaye ga if the emotion is right.
But I guess it is wrong to undermine the teachers experience. So as I was training her today (95% of training is in the car while I drop her to the bus stop), she kept telling me that her teacher taught her otherwise. Like good parents I conceded. I allowed her to keep what the teacher said but I still tried to push for subtle emotions within the words. So that there is still enough variation in the poem. I have to teach something that takes the clarity that the teacher teaches while allowing for the emotion that makes the poem come alive.
What I am also happy is that her teacher does not simply teach the emotion. She explains why the emotion fits into the story. Like one line (“which added up to 46, or its it 52?) Where she says that you can’t be loud because you are thinking and calculating. Fair. I had told her to be loud in – ‘added upto 46’, as she is jumping to a number and then think for ‘or is it 52’ as now you sheepishly think you have made a error.
Aaaaaa. I don’t really bother. It’s right as long as there is a justification. And as long as Jispa understands it, she will be getting it right either way.
The greatest thing in parenting is that I remember my childhood. I remember a lot of incidents even from as long back as 2nd standard. So at least I know which mistakes to avoid. At least I am making fresh mistakes. I clearly remember having conflict when mom taught differently from what the teacher taught. I used to argue with mom, when she insisted otherwise. Some times I was right while I assume that most of the time mom would have been right, but the stress of POSSIBLY getting it wrong was greater the stress ACTUALLY getting it wrong. As the latter is a small thing when you just get corrected, while the former shimmers all through, from when you do home work till you hit school. So with Jispa I never argue with her if she tells me that the teacher taught her otherwise. I merely explain my point and let her do it her way. The stress is just not worth it. She will soon figure. Making mistakes is a better way to learn than to get it right all the time.
One incident jumps to memory. While I was an average to above average kid in class (rank 8 to15 out of 60 kids), in tenth standard I really started doing well in maths. I was always good but in tenth, focussed studies and better practice helped me shine in my favourite subject. Also my teachers were pretty cool. I even figured a different way of solving a sum which I thought was right. My school teacher Mr Thomas, allowed me to keep that way while just telling me to write down the calculation in steps and not jump to the answer. That was great motivation I guess. So in tenth in one of the unit tests I scored 49 on 50. Mr. Thomas looked at the final score and asked if I knew where I went wrong. I showed him and he got pissed. He said he should have cut more marks for that mistake. I had done everything right everywhere but in one sum in the end I had totalled 7+5 as 11. That was my only chance of scoring a perfect score ever in my life. I had blown it up. I knew in the finals the boards wouldn’t let me score a perfect score. Sure enough, I got 74 on 75 in algebra and 73 on 75 in geometry. There was only a one mark error in algebra where there was a fill in the blank on a technical math issue. So yes, I missed my perfect score as 7+5 is 12 and not eleven. Till today whenever I see 7+5, I will first think 11 and then see that problem in front of me and I know the answer is 12, and I regret missing the perfect score. I remember solving the sum in the exam, I remember checking it, I remember saying to myself – 7 +5 = 11. Then I remember the paper duly corrected and I remember Mr. Thomas’s words. This was all in 1990. I just won’t forget it.
Look at the trade off, if I had got it right, this would have not been a part of my memory. At best I might have remembered the perfect score, that’s all. My memories would have been worse off. Aarrggghhh. I want the score and I want the memory.

but daaaaad

Yesterday I caught Jispa reading ‘the wimpy kid’ again. I told her to read it only on the condition that she asks us what she does not understand. Else no more reading for her. Later into the evening as she was reading I caught her again and asked her to read aloud some line. As we thought – she was skimming through. One word she knew the meaning but couldn’t read it was ‘definitely’. That’s when I looked at her and said… ‘no more reading’. She looked at me and a tear swelled in her eye. ‘no more Wimpy kid’ she said ‘not no more reading’. I just kept quiet and looked at her ‘nooo… you cant stop my reading’ she cried.
Did I feel like a third grade villain? I did not know what to do. I did not want to give in easily. Just giving up the wimpy kid would not have been strict enough and anything more would have been too strict.
I did the dad thing. ‘Now get and go for bath, brush your teeth and get ready for bed’. I just side stepped the punishment. What to do. I was not going to punish someone for reading but I sure want her to read and not skip words.
And then before bed another test of parenting. Teaching and preparing Jispa for the interschool elocution. I don’t want to push but if I don’t she does not improve. She wants to improve but that would mean making her rehearse again and again… these are not so easy calls. I would like her to do her best, win and compete. But I don’t want her to pay a price for it. So I try to tell sweetly. Keep telling her that I don’t mind if she does not practice, use emotional to make her practice. I even let her put her own emotions even if they aren’t 100% right, so that she has some ownership. And after all I also don’t know what the judges will be looking for. Her guess is as good as mine. I am happy she is processing and trying to use her brain. That’s the real battle. She competes this Friday. I hope to polish some rough edges by then. Without pushing her too hard. I really want her to enjoy it as opposed to having pressure.
I am not sure if I should go to the finals though Jasmine is keen to be there.
I would love to see her perform but I don’t want any burden of expectation. Go ahead and spit out on stage… it’s the fun that counts. If you had fun and did your best, then only will you want to do it again. What’s the point of a flash in the pan? Doing regularly what you like doing is the ultimate elixir.

but you love me daddy

For the interschool elocution she has to get an inspirational poem, an inspirational story or extract of an inspirational speech. Two minutes long… oh god. For a 7 year old! I can’t think of anything … I always believed that these competitions must allow for humor more than anything else. But now it’s an inspirational talk… I guess it’s not the school’s fault, the organizer must have ordained so. Searching the works of Shel I came across this poem… is it inspirational (I hope so)? The problem is inspirational versus morals… the net has tons of inspirational stuff that’s got God in it. Both Jasmine and I hate having inspirational stuff with the omnipresent hand. You don’t need God to get inspired. Can anyone help me get a cute nice inspirational talk/ poem for a seven year old? Though the school has also promised that if we don’t get it they will give us one. but I still think the lester one would do.

On another note – yesterday we were at a fun and fair organized by the preschool organization that one of Jispa’s friends goes to. It was a nicely done thing, with stalls on various games and activities. Jispa was enjoying on her own, hanging around, trying stuff. She came to me saying she wants coupons. I directed her to Jasmine. I then realized that Jasmine had bought 500 bucks worth of coupons for jispa to enjoy. Wow. 500 bucks. That included everything including food and drink. But I remember going to my school fair and having exactly 20 bucks or 50 bucks of coupons to utilize. I am not arguing for inflation. What I know was that they were definitely not enough to play what ever game I wanted and I had to pick and choose to maximize my fun. I had a clear trade off and marginal utility problem to solve. Jispa just went and played everything that caught her fancy. Now 500 bucks for family fun is not a large budget. Silly movies at a multiplex cost much more. But I didn’t know how to reconcile my need to ensure she has fun without too much chindigiri, while teaching her truth of finite resources. I don’t know…
One stall was a photographer getting you to pose inside a box for interesting angles. Jispa came to me and asked if she could go. I was like “it might be expensive and more so, I am a decent photographer. So why don’t you find out how expensive it might be, then we decide.”. She ran there and came back a minute later, “dad, bad news… it costs 250 rupees”. Happily she ran away. I guess we got the balance right.

We reached home and we got to do some dressing on the boil that’s come up. That’s a second one she’s got back to back. This one needed to be burst open. We take an implement and douse it in Savlon to prick it. Jispa was crying a bit purely on the thought of it. I let her attempt to prick it herself. She realized that her boild was a piece of dead skin with no sensation. She then let me gently prick with and had the puss oozing out. a nice bit of growing up.
While we were squeezing it, Jispa suggested I keep talking to keep her distracted. So I went about talking about… you know…mommy faced a pain that was a hundred thousand times more than what you are facing. This was when she gave birth to you. She held my hand very tight and she was hungry and thirsty but she had to deliver on an empty stomach. But we were there for each other. Etc etc….
She then asked. Why did we decide to have a baby. So that you can have fun the baby? I replied that ‘ much more… we wanted a baby to take care of, we wanted be bring a baby into this world, we wanted to play with it, we wanted a baby so that it would hold my hand and cross the road, …” suddenly she curled her lower lip and cried loudly…. Huh... what happened, did it hurt, did I press to hard. What on earth happened? “No, I am just crying because it’s a very nice story. You said very nice things” she replied. Huh? I and Jasmine just looked at each other. We didn’t know how to react. Jispa is a sensitive kid but I guess the boil hurting and the crying that was already happening did affect her a bit. She said even in school she heard a lovely story that moved her a bit in the western music class. It was this one…

Your five year old face is a dirty disgrace(but you love me Daddy)You scatter your toys and you make too much noise(but you love me Daddy)You know little lad you can be pretty bad(but you love me Daddy)You wake me at dawn when i want to sleep on(but you love me Daddy)Now you eat the cookies when i tell you no(But you love me daddy cause you tell me so)you're so hard to scold cause you're my five year old(and cause you love me Daddy)When i dress you up you go play with the pup(but you love me Daddy)When i use the phone you wont leave me alone(but you love me Daddy)You make sister wail pulling her ponytail (But you love me Daddy)You scratch up the floor and you write on the door(But you love me Daddy)You ask foolish questions now you know thats true(But you love me Daddy and you know you do)Your so hard to scold cause you're my five year old (And cause you love me Daddy)

Yup… I love you, kiddy…

STOP PRESS

Jispa got chosen in her standard to represent the school in inter school elocution competition.

I just lived my childhood dream

thank you Shel, sorry dentist.

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coming of age

Jispa had a puss boil in her leg and like all puss boils, it got quite painful. Adding to the whole thing was the ayurvedic stuff we generally use. It’s a vicious black paste that brings the puss out. It makes the dam thing throb like crazy. It hurts like hell. Poor thing went all over the place on Tuesday night. She missed school on Wednesday thanks to the bad sleep and the mild fever. Slowly she came to terms with it. She really hated me for pushing the puss out of the boil. It is very painful. But on Friday night she decided that since she has to remove the puss and papa is not the right guy to do it, she will do it herself. Wow... that’s a big one. She actually squeezed the puss out from the boil herself with some egging on from us. She overcame her pain and the grossness. She squeezed out a lot of it… it was in many ways a coming of age, a step in the hero’s journey. If there was proof that our girl was growing up, had grown up… it was there for us to see. On a lark, I shot the thing on the handycam. It was a bit gross to do so but it will be a good coming of age video. Admittedly one cannot expect wholesome family entertainment in that video, hehehe…

An update on her elocution performance – we don’t know… the results are not announced at an individual level. Marks are given and aggregated at a house level with the house being declared winners. Politically correct I guess. But Jispa and I had a truckload of fun preparing for it.. Especially irritating Jasmine by reciting the poem again and again. it is fun reciting it with her.

Jispa Speak

Jispa has been chosen for the final day final round in the elocution competition. She is quite an expressive child and this is a perfect outlet for the drama in her. The poem we chose (wrote about it earlier) has enough play for different tones and voices. It will be different from the other poems that go in a monotone… dada dada … dada dada … dada dada da. This will go slow, loud, pause, surprise… I asked her on the phone today if she remembered anyone else’s poem. She said there one poem about the pig by Roald Dahl. Its about a pig with a over sized brain it knew everything but “but in the end One question drove him round the bend: He simply couldn't puzzle out, What LIFE was really all about."
I quickly googled it as i was on the phone and read it out to her. I then asked her… see… how do I know the entire poem. She just spelt out “G…O…O…G…L…E”. hmmm, how did you know that, I asked her. She said that she too has an over sized brain like the piggy in question. Ok … you win.

On Sunday while I was taking a lecture at college, Jispa and Jasmine had planned to come in once they finished at the park. They came in at the last ten minutes of the lecture. I was my usual loud self. Jasmine remarked to Jispa – does your teacher shout like this? After the lecture as we were walking out she asked me in all earnest, “dad, when I go grow will you teach me as well?” “sure, Jispa. I am always teaching you. I am teaching you now as well.” “no, will you teach me these things that you were teaching them.” “of course, I will”. She was happy. “when you are bigger, Jispa, all you have to do is ask”.

Later another thing she told me that “papa, you are less strict than my teacher. In school if anyone talks my teacher makes them stand under the clock.” Heheh. I sure am. I didn’t tell her that if I do that my class will shift to the clock in under five minutes.

education... creativity...? the answer is a shel?

Yesterday I came across two videos. Both of which are interesting and in a manner of speaking on the different quadrants of an axis.
The first one was the speech by Obama on education urging the kids to follow through (right word?) on their responsibility towards education. Not bad at all, though I am a bit tired of him talking everywhere. While I might be falsely accusing narcissism what he says is definitely worth listening. It did make sense.
In the evening I came across another video, (actually the audio I heard in a horrific traffic jam) where the sir Ken Robinson talks about something even more pertinent. He argues that the education system designed to aid the industrial revolution post the 1900’s kills creativity and is unable to provide our kids with skills needed or hone the varied skills they are born with. A lovely one that. My favourite line "My contention is that creativity now is as important in education as literacy"
If you have to choose between the videos see the Ken Robinson one. The first is something enforces something you thought to be true and the other one enforces what you suspected to be true.
Choosing one over the other is pretty stupid but understanding the context of one with the other is having the ability to reconcile quadrants.





On the subject of creativity and education, Jispa has an elocution contest on Tuesday. Now I don’t really care if she wins or not but I sure want her to have a wild story to tell and a unique way to tell it. A little bit of overacting may not be out of order. As long its funny and Jispa enjoys it! The poem I choose is a Shel Silverstein one. Those are the best with enough twist on our notion of ‘normalease’. It is called the crocodile’s tooth ache. I found it extremely funny and allows for a play between two characters. The crocodile who is normally fierce is the victim and the dentist who is normally the sweet heat is the perpetrator of the crime. And in the end the dentist’s ghastly end leaves you with no remorse but a sense of justice. That was too much analysis for such a lovely poem. We have lost the ability to see it for what it is…. Essshhh.. Here enjoy it as much I did…it’s in his uniquely gruff voice