code decode

One of our family friend’s sister recently passed away due to a road accident. Our friend’s daughter and Jispa are also close friends. So generally I was asking Jispa, do you know what happened to your friend’s maasi (aunt). She said “ya, she had a terrible accident”. “yes and you are aware what happened then”. “Yes dad, she … err… she went …”, Jispa pointed upwards. She obviously was flustered and didn’t know how to say it. “Yes, she passed away” I added.
“You know dad. Now I can understand this better. It is all thanks to Calvin and Hobbes”. “Calvin and Hobbes?” I asked “how did that help?”. “earlier I used to panic or my breathing would get … but after I read Calvin and Hobbes story of the raccoon, I understood about death”. “Is that so?” I asked faintly remembering the story. I remember, Calvin finding the raccoon and then him getting upset about the raccoon dying. “yes dad, in that the raccoon dies and then Calvin is all upset. His mother then tells him, there is birth and death, everything that is born must die. But what is more important is that the raccoon was warm and safe”. I guess that explained to her the inevitability of death.
The magic of Calvin and Hobbes is that it works at multiple levels. It explains some serious philosophy for the evolved reader as well as appeals and explains simple philosophy for the young reader. It’s magical how it connects to both. Its so beautiful. Reading is important. Reading anything is important. Fiction, non-fiction, comics, cartoons, anything. Who would have thought that reading a comic strip would help a 9 year deal with a serious issue like death. The inevitability of it and the life that precedes it.
Here is the series in which the episode pans out. It’s lovely yet poignant.

(footnote - Jispa remembers the mom explaining death but its actually the dad.... Sighhhhh)

Kids understand much more and take in much more when aided with the power of a story possibly seen through another 8 year old. I remember when Jispa would sometimes be a little misbehaved on certain issues and we found it difficult to control her, I would dream of a story where there was papaya papa and musambi mummy, along with a little girl and somehow the moral of the story would bring alive the situation to her and she would then understand. Stories are so powerful.
I read somewhere that Hinduism was under grave threat thanks to the spread of Buddhism and the Brahmins brought it back by retelling the tale of Ramayana and Mahabharata to extoll the glory of Hindu deities. In fact they even conveniently got Balaram out of the Dus Avatars and brought in Buddha as a reincarnation. Funny, for a religion born in some ways against the practice of Hinduism, they incorporated it back into Hinduism. It’s like making the naughtiest guy in class the Monitor of the class. A story well told has many a reaching impact – much more than what we can imagine.
I have been generally been teaching Jispa banking and interest through her pocket money. The other day her monthly 10% interest came up to 140 bucks. I told her that I am reducing her interest rate to 5% per month. That is because she is isn’t spending anything much and I want her to spend so reducing the interest rate gives her a little less incentive to save. A ha. It’s like I am playing central bank. Reducing interest rate to increase money flow in the economy. So she I think now is planning to spend a little more. I think this game is getting far more fun. She earns money by playing the guitar, then spends a little on bubble gum, then she gets interest by saving it and then the central bank is reducing nd increasing the interest rate to control money supply. Let’s see if I can introduce more complexities like tax or something else. It has to get interesting yet simple. Haha.
I think this money thing is also making her a little bit of an economist. Today morning we were talking money and she was wondering how money gets printed. I was telling her that it is a difficult process and that only the government is allowed to print money. If everybody would print money then everybody would get rich. “yes” she added “and then if everybody had lots of money, all the prices of everything would rise”. What on earth. “who taught you that. Did I tell you that” I don’t remember teaching her that. “no, not you dad. My brain told me”. Wow. Old Chinese and European monarchs refused to understand the simple relationship between money supply and inflation. My nine old got it. Pretty cool nah. “yes Jispa that is bang on. It’s called inflation. When prices of things rise, its inflation”.
I am pretty surprised that she got that relation bang on. It is a pretty abstract relationship. It happens due to people behavior and not due to a mathematical formula. It is derived.
I guess having fun and intelligent conversations impact thought process in ways we can’t imagine. Kids learn from anything and make their minds work. We possibly underestimate their ability to sum total entire stimuli and form their own judgments, values and decoding formulas. Be very careful when you answer innocuous sounding questions or expose them to stimuli. You have no clue on the way a kid’s mind works.

Bicharu Pooh

The great part of parenting is the creative loose that you get. Inventing stories, ideas, philosophies as you go along the path. Story telling is such an important and integral part of the whole process and (in a lighter vein) so also is story listening.
Jispa has a small 6 inch teddy bear she calls pooh. She likes to call him bicharu pooh, translated: poor pooh. Her bicharu pooh goes along with her on trips, sleeps with her and generally accompanies her at times. He is not a 24 hour support is there, around quite a lot these days. Yesterday I told her the story of some other bicharu pooh. Here is shorter version. Of course a story read misses the drama of a story told. But read on…
Once there was a small girl called nanu bablu (literally: small baby). She loved her bicharu pooh a lot. She played with it, she slept with it. She put it to have bath in the washing machine once a week so that he could be clean and smelt good. Nanu bablu used to play with her bicharu pooh all the time. She loved bicharu pooh and bicharu pooh loved nanu bablu. As nanu bablu grew up she played with bicharu pooh less often. She used to keep bicharu pooh on the table and go about doing her work. Bicharu pooh was happy to see his nanu bablu grow up. One day her mother while cleaning nanu bablu’s room put bicharu pooh in the cupboard. Nanu bablu had forgotten about bicharu pooh and did realize it. So it sat in the cupboard waiting… there was a very tiny crack in the cupboard and het could see very little of his nanu bablu. He could see her studying, growing up, talking on the phone, having friends over. But it was growing sad that it could not play with nanu bablu.
Once nanu bablu open the cupboard and bicharu pooh was happy that he would be out of that place. But nanu bablu just picked up something from behind and shut it. Bicharu pooh was all alone again. It gathered dust. It was dirty. An ant had even walked across it.
One day nanu bablu got married and went away. Bicharu Pooh was all alone and could see no one from the crack. It was very sad.
After some time nanu bablu came back looking pregnant. She was about to deliver a baby. The baby also soon arrived. Suddenly nanu bablu realized that she had bicharu pooh in the cupboard. She dug him out, washed him, cleaned him. He was smelling good and clean again. She put bicharu pooh next to nanu nanu bablu to play. Bicharu pooh was soo happy. Nanu nanu bablu was playing with him, he was playing with nanu nanu bablu. He enjoyed being with nanu nanu bablu. He slept with nanu bablu on one side and nanu nanu bablu on the other side. He was very happy.

There you are simple story. Not really original about the plot line. The interesting thing was that while I in the middle of telling the story, Jispa got quite emotional during the sad part. She actually let a few tears roll. I think the crack part was especially poignant. But as said later I knew it would be happy in the end. All sad stories have happy endings. While as much as I could have got sadistic pleasures, I refrain sad endings. Life must have hope and happiness. Things might bad, sad or wrong but they must result in happiness at the end. C’est la vie. Depression is not our destined end of way.