daddy rules

Yesterday in the morning, we probably had a premonition or something. Jasmine told me to wake up Jispa. I told her to wake her up.  None of us wanted to wake her up. Waking Jispa is not an easy deal. She keeps asking for two minutes and makes a huge fuss while getting up. Of course when it’s the 5 am wake up call for swimming she knows better and is much more reasonable, but on normal school days, it’s a task. She knows she has enough time. But we parents have to wear an albatross.

Jispa has a punishing swimming schedule. She loves it but we are punished as parents. We push ourselves to the limit while parenting her. The burden is much more than physical. We have to ensure she is well fed, well rested and she is well prepared. Now the school has begun to crank up the studies. And no matter which school you go to, the teachers are always in a hurry to finish the portion and are possibly unable to give enough attention to each child. You always have to supplement the studying schedule at home. You need to revise, you need to learn and you have to redo as homework what you got wrong. So far I had been pretty sanguine about it all. But this year I realized the pressure and the need to do regular home work.

So the crucial 30 minutes we identified for revision is in the morning when there is no swimming. This si the time she should finish her breakfast at 7am and she can study till 7.30am, at which time we need to go. So that necessitates waking up on time. And that’s where the pressure builds up.

I used to take extra pride in waking Jispa with a smile, by singing, by talking and by whispering stuff in hers ears. Now that is impossible. Doing that will take away her crucial sleeping and studying time. So I can’t start early. I have to let her sleep as much as possible and then get her off the bed.

Yesterday Jasmine had her way and I had to wake Jispa. I tried to be nice, spoke well, tried to pull her off. She delays by asking for stretching time. Which I allowed and then I had to physically lift her, which is now a heavy thing to do. Then while holding her and talking to her, I was taking he rot the bath. She kept resisting and then she let off the dreaded ‘aaaeeen’. Nothing pisses me off more than the ‘aaaeeen’. It’s a scream of irritation. She signifies that she is irritated and possibly we are doing something wrong. Woah… that’s the ultimate wrong thing to do to me in the morning. Especially if I am all sweet and nice (but firm) while I am waking you up. She got a mid-sized whack on her back from me. “Stop the ‘aaaeeen’ Jispa. Just not done. I am talking to you. I am holding you, I am waking you and you can’t do this.” She cried – more for the rebuke rather than the hit. I told her stop crying. “you know why you got it and I did not hit that hard”. She went for bath and then came out refreshed and she had stopped crying. She told me “sorry dad”. “it’s ok kid. I am sorry too. Just please wake up properly. It’s just too much stress that can be avoided in the morning”.

This is just too stressful. It’s not easy being the parents of a sporting champion. Especially when you want her to be good in studies as well. We have to keep the pressure on studies. Keep revising. Keep working. Do your homework. Do your tables. Do your spellings. And that’s a job that only the parents can do at home. Schooling is just not enough.

Yesterday evening was one big realization for me on this. I am the worst Hindi teacher there is. Jispa corrects me with the correct pronunciations and the spellings. I have no freaking clue how to spell or what the meaning is of the words. I can only do some take up shit. Jispa’s job is to know the stuff and my job is to ask her what she knows. But yesterday we were doing occupations. She was struggling with a few. And engineer is called abhiyanta in hindi. She kept forgetting. So I explained this.. When you want to fix something you call an engineer and when you want to fix something- you have to fix it NOW. NOW in Hindi is Abhi hence abhiyanta is engineer. Yayyyy. She got it. Then I explained the simpler ones like Sona is gold hence goldsmith is sonar. Loha is iron and hence blacksmith is lohar. Gwala is cow herd. Cow is gai and gai ko sambhalne wala is Gwala. Reporter is one who writes letters hence patra and hence patrakar. I explained that chikitsak is one who checks you and hence a doctor. And so on and on.

Finally as a dad I felt I did my job on teaching as well. That too Hindi syllabus. Jispa remembered them very well. She was struggling with them. Similarly I explained the numbers. I was explaining that the numerals across the world were basically invented in India and then taken to the western world by the Arabic traders and then universally adopted. That’s why the sounds are similar – two in English or deux in French or dos in Spanish sounds like they do in Hindi. Same with three, teen, tres, tran etc. so now you know the English ones get the Hindi ones similarly. And once you get the counds you will get the numbers. Only one difference is the numbers ending in 9 such as 59 or 69 which is called 60 minus 1 or unsath or 70 minus 1 to give you unhattar.

I don’t think her Hindi teacher has that much time or possibly you need to be a non-hindi speaking hero to understand and learn it via other shortcuts. But hell who cares…. There is stress and sometimes bucket loads of it but if in the end “DADDY RULESSSSS” then that’s that. Daddy rules.

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On a side note from the earlier blog… a question that Krishna raised set me thinking. Why does Jispa still take water from home? Yes sure. She doesn’t really need only home water. She drinks water everywhere. In fact she is a swimmer. We even give her sugar cane juice off the road side stalls. So why does she need home water. Well she doesn’t need the water but she needs the water bottle. So she can drink at will and she doesn’t really need to hit the water station every now and then. So now we are sending her only the bottle. In case of longer days she will take two bottles, one plain and the other with the Glucon C powder in it for her to mix. Well – that gets rid of one and a half kilo! BIG.

lucky chic

Jispa considers herself lucky to be born in 2002.
As I have blogged earlier, I have some great times with Jispa telling her stories from my life. Some older stories of me as a kid. I then build on it and talk about it and our conversation progresses. Last week we were staying at this amazing place called the hermitage guesthouse. No electricity, no phones, no network. Awesome fun. I am quite proud of the way Jispa is now easy with the leeches. She just picks them up, rolls them and flicks them out. A real pro. One day we went hiking up the highest point of the area. At a 1000 meters above mean sea level, it gave some of the most spectacular views of the region. Jispa is quite the enthusiastic climber. Light with strong legs she manages to reach up and keep pace. It was coming down she got tired. On her way back she wanted to rest and was tired.
I then used the trick that seems to be working these days. I told her that if she kept walking I would tell her stories from my life. And I told her stories from my life and she kept walking. I told her about how when I was in fifth standard, when we were at Ahmedabad to attend a weeding when dad got his first heart attack. How an attack works. How the heart is a muscle and how the arteries carrying blood get clogged by cholesterol and stop the blood form flowing. How the heart loses power and then works at lower capacity. And we spoke a whole host of things. Soon enough, we reached the base of the hill and that brought us to end that conversation.
During the drive back home later, we also spoke about Hero ink pens and E=MC2. Don’t ask me how it got there and when she understood from it. But yes we did discuss electrons, neutrons and atoms and molecules and some part of the periodic table.
A few days back while waking her up I was speaking about an story. How when we were younger and growing up, we did not have any brands in the country – no coke, no addidas, no MacDonald’s, no lays, no kurkures nothing. Not even faber castle crayons or stationery. We had no book stores like crosswords and we hardly had books. All we read was the amar chitra katha. And I went on and on. I said that that time India did not want these foreign brands to come into the country and we were scared of them and hence we had very little choice. Then in her half sleeps she asks ‘this is because of what they did to us?’. Huh? “What who did to us?”. “This is because of what the British did to us”. “Who told you that Jispa?”. Her standard reply in these cases – “my brain”. I was pretty skeptical. I quizzed her further. She told me that he teacher had once explained that the British had come to trade with us and then ruled over us and then she connected the dots and voila – this is what her brain told her. Excellent deduction. My baby is growing every day. I guess a nine year old has a decent logical deduction power. We just don’t make them use it enough.
Just the other day I was discussing with someone on the education system; CBSE board or ICSC board or IGSC or the good old now maligned SSC board that I studied in. My belief is that all this curriculum importance is a bit over stated. What is more important is the quality of teachers. I have had my share of really sweet teachers who taught complex subjects well and the idiots who could make any subject dull and boring. Somehow it’s always the Hindi teachers who have been the worst of the lot. A close second come the history and geography teachers. No wonder we have a warped and view of history and our memories of geography is limited to coloring some northern part of Russia blue to denote the tundra region or something.
So coming back to Jispa and her mornings. She summed the conversation aptly by saying – “I am lucky to have been born in 2002 and not earlier”. I think she was almost pitying me. Tch tch.

wake up ball

It’s always a struggle to wake Jispa in the morning. Not because she is reluctant to wake up, that is definitely the case, but more so as she is a nice warm cuddly that I want to cuddle along and use to wake me up. It’s such a sin to wake up someone so beautifully asleep. Which heartless creature would want to disturb an angel, warm and asleep?
But on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, when you have to wake up at 5 and leave home at 5.30 am, all the warm fluffy feelings go for a toss. You just literally drag her from the bed. HI Jispa wake up time and pop, I have to pick her up. This is something that Jasmine invented. It takes a mother to invent something like this. Before jispa knows what is happening she is half way to the bathroom. And while she opens her eyes, she is in front of her mirror ready to brush. There is little time or scope for negotiation. I found it cruel at first but it is the right way. If I allow her to gain senses, she starts negotiating. And when she negotiates with her arm around you and says, “Dad one minute please. It won’t make a difference”, then I just melt and it’s time for us to get scolding form mom. GET UP NOW. YOU ARE GETTING LATE!
So it’s a yank and pull wake up three days of the week. No fluffy teddy for me. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays it’s the return of the teddy! I max these two days. I get into her bed and then cuddle up and then begin the process of waking her up. So I have to hunt for new things to wake her up. Because merely cuddling is not enough. She can then sleep for hours like that. And while the pressure is lower, it is still not absent. I still have to get her up and ready in time. So I start talking to her. Start asking her questions and other stuff. That lasted a couple of times till one day she said, ‘dad, don’t irritate me and ask me questions nah. Don’t do that in the morning”. So now that is effectively ruled out as an option. Her highness the teddy refuses to talk rubbish in the morning.
A few days back I hit on a new thing. I get into her warm mattress and start talking about my life. Nothing big or dramatic but simple stories that I find most amusing or talkable at 6 am. The last story I told her was about the games we played during the break at school. I was in Dubai till the third grade and moved into the fourth grade here. My first memory of the first break is when my new found friends said, ‘chal, join in, we all play aaba-dubee. What you mean Abu Dhabi, I corrected him. You see I was fresh from Dubai and the capital city for UAE is Abu Dhabi. No no. It’s not Abu Dhabi, its aaba-dubee.
This conversation today reminds me of the little prince where everyone told him, it’s a hat and he corrected them.. no no it’s a boa constrictor who swallowed an elephant.
Forget that. So my friend, if I am not mistaken Amardeep it was, says, its aaba-dubee we are playing. he had a rubber ball in his hand so I figured that’s got something to do with it. It was the first time I had seen a rubber ball, popularly called rubdy ball in Mumbai. In Dubai a ball was always a tennis ball. I soon learnt that tennis balls were really expensive– pre reform era, remember? – and this ball at 2.5 bucks was IT. So how do we play the game. We take this ball and hit other people with it. Ok. I was waiting. It sounds like kings. We used to play kings where in, there is the denner and his job is to hit someone with the ball, then they both together get the third one and so on till we are all out. You can’t run with the ball. That’s the only other rule in kings.Amardeep then explain aba-dubee to me. You only hit anyone else with the ball. And yes you can’t run with the ball. So, ‘who is the denner’ I asked. There is no denner in aba-dubee. You just throw the ball high in the air to start it. Then whoever gets the ball has can throw it to hit someone and then whoever picks it then throws it at someone with an aim to hit him and so on. It’s not a sport; it’s not a game, its mindless action. It has no end. You just keep throwing the ball. The playground has no boundaries, no one to judge, nothing. IT WAS AWESOME.i remember playing it forever. You rush out at the bell and throw the ball into the air and you start and continue till the bell rings to get us back in. short break, long break, you just play like crazy.
i never understood we boys would just rush in and try our hand at getting the ball. That is always a high risk high reward strategy. To get the ball you always compete with one or two other guys and then if you get it first then you have two really close targets. If not, then you are one of the two really close targets. Also the trick if you miss it is to get really really close to the guy with the ball. He can’t really throw a hard ball at you if you are an inch away. At around three to four feet distance, you are a sitting duck. So it’s a stick or run early strategy. So in a game where there are 20 to 30 kids playing you are not likely to get hit more than twice. Aim has to be right and you have to be stupid. I remember only once a guy called Ashish Kaul got hit five times in one session. I remember singing happy birthday along with the others. It was his aba-dubee birthday.
So I explained the brain dead game to Jispa one morning while waking her up. She found it most amusing. A game with no real point and that doesn’t end. She soon woke up. Now to think of more stories from my life to tell her. Some from college, some from school, some from Dubai, and possibly some stories will be hers, things that she would have done as a younger kid. It’s like a talking blog every morning. A Tog?

it aint over till papa sings

I am rediscovering some awesome songs from yesteryears. My friend had classified the best songs of the 50’s and the 70’s and the 80’s. Why are the 60’s missing? I have no clue. I just took what I got and loved them.
One of them I set as my alarm. Jispa as you know is my problem in the morning for waking up and every now and then I have to figure out a way to wake her up. A few days back I was the lion and the novelty lasted exactly two days. Soon enough she was back to sleeping in for ten minutes before she wakes up.
I hate waking up kids with a diktat. GET UP NOW! Shutting of the fan and other irritating tricks. My poor mother obviously had three of us and I don’t really blame her lack of patience and creativity.
Since I have no such excuse I try all the funny stuff, so that I can get her to wake up with a smile. For me waking her is a fun thing. I look forward to it. Everyday new story, new blackmail, new masti, new talking points. Whatever… the only thing is that I have one rule. No doing aaaaaaaaaaaa. If she does that I stop and walk. Inadvertently every few days I get one of those wails. I pretend to walk away. She then stops me and says that it wasn’t an aaaaaaaaaa. It was an aaaa only. Then I come back and restart my travail.
Today I kept the phone (alarm on it) next to her and let kishore kumar (vocals) to do the needful. It was a grand success. I sang along with him and sure enough the smile came out and the process started. It did not get any shorter but it surely was a creative innovation for today.
The song was selected for its impact in the first 10 seconds. My phone plays only the first 30 seconds of the song clip as the alarm. And hence the song must start with a bang and have the music continue nice and loud in the first 30 seconds. The song in question – the funny classic from chalti ka naam gaadi – hum the who thi aur…
Let me see if I get the right video on you tube. Ya.. Sure enough. Its here. The video start a bit early here. Imagine it starting from the 6th second. Don’t miss the whistle in the 8th second and pomp pomp of the horn in the 10th second, and the vocals of kishore kumar doing the taarararara in the 13th second. And then finally the yaneyaneyaneyane in the 18th second. And then the song moving beautifully into a tune by the 20th second. Thank you Kishore and SD, it’s a perfect wake up song.
Jispa surely enjoyed the song and I sang along with kishore especially on the above mentioned parts.
It’s a classic across all ages and fifty years on it continues to entertain an 8 year old in the same way it made their then audience dance. Jispa was later asking ‘is this from dada, dadi’s era. “Ya. they probably heard it when they were of your age.”

wakey wakey time

An nth tryst with Jispa waking up is in progress. Jispa wants to grow up and that means waking up on her own with an alarm. Good noble intentions. So she said that I should not wakr her up but merely put an alarm next to her and she would wake up on her own. Fair. I agree.
So day 1 I wake up on my alarm and press snooze. After which I put it net to her. In five minutes it rings…. Rings… rings… no effect. I put it closer to her... ring… no effect. I put it on her ears… ring … ring… no effect. Then I wake her up myself. I am ok with this, but the growing up by waking on her own is a thing she is having with mom, not me. So in the evening Jispa and mommy are having this conversation. Jispa tells me to hold the alarm near her ear. “but that’s exactly what I did”. “then papa, you should change the alarm. This is your alarm. If I hear that I think its you who has to wake up.” Ok. Lets see day 2.
Day 2 I wake up, shut the alarm and go to Jispa. I look at my playlist on the cell phone.. hmmm… a talk by the economist, nopes… aahhh… here. That should do. Bat out of hell by Meatloaf, the original 10 minute version. That should give her adequate time. It starts loud with heavy guitar and piano. Immediately Jispa wakes up and sits up. Then onto the bathroom she goes.
Very good.
Day 3 I wake up and do the same. This time the song required a full 2 minutes to wake her up. And then wait for her to sit up post which I hug my teddy for some time before sending her to bath. Mommy and Jispa have a conversation where I am called in as the prime witness. I testify and mommy says nopes. You have to get up on own completely. Jispa says ok. But I am not happy that means I have to leave the alarm and walk away from my morning teddy. Not fair. It’s the warmest teddy hug on a cold morning. So reach compromise. She wakes up and then walk to the chair where I will sit and wait for her, so it’s proved that she has woken up on her own without me after which she hugs me and I pack her to the bathroom.
Parenting… kya kya karna padtha hai.