He squeals, he plays, he laughs, he cries and this is my baby ! The 2 AM precision shrill alarm going off from his little throat to remind me it's milk time. The little red gums giving way to a little milky white cap to herald a new tooth. Joy thereafter. Oh ! He has stood up. Time for celebrations!Gurgling sounds giving way to first words. Dad and Mom arguing whether it was Papa or Mama that he tried to say. Adventures and quizzical events as they unfold, make many a heartbeat skip.Funtime-bathing time, a music freak he seems to be. I can hear Cliff Richard belch ' OUTSIDER'.With the rise and fall of the musical notes, I am sorted out, soaking wet, water splashing from the tub making me resemble a wet eel. Learning time -hobby time,my little Mohammed Rafi sings out loud to my utter amazement ' I am a SPIDER, that's me '. His version of OUTSIDER !!
Learning to talk and I am truly mesmerized at all he has to say, a dime a dozen! His little last word on all topics of conversation. The inquisitive and Sherlock Holmes stage - I have to be on vigil. I can read his mind like a book. His eyes gleaming with conspiracy and lips breaking into a half smile. Oh dear! What's next? We have visitors and is he planning one of his awkward questions which seeks an instant answer faster than MERI MAGGI ? I can see his little plump fingers moving hastily towards a pencil. What is this for,I wonder. He whispers into my ears that he has noticed someone in our drawing room with hair sticking out of his ears. He was seeking my permission to curl it with his pencil! Good Lord , how do I handle this? I break into beads of sweat. Permission certainly not granted. I carry this plum pudding to his bed room, trying desperately to transfer a few pearls of wisdom.
Every day I learn so much from this little guy, of course many a time losing tons of patience to the point of exasperation ! Prodigy off to school , wonder why my heart is thumping. Is it me who is entering the portals of knowledge for a second round? In a way Yes and in a way No. His homework becomes my struggle, his four course b'fast complete with juice and eggs ( which he insists upon ) my heartache, to ensure he did not miss the bus and what not. The day of reckoning has dawned . The first parent - teacher confrontation ! I am sitting on a chair like a ' Qaidi ' waiting for the noose to tighten . Lucky husband always has lady luck by him and is Mr. India on all such occassions. Finally the verdict. My son has stood FIRST, believe it or not. Before the teacher ended, she hissed into my ears " Mrs J , your son is very talkative.He carries from home a huge bundle of stories every single day which he happily shares with all. Now I am more than sure that the teacher knows our family history better and what about the secrets? They must be all out in the open. I must not stick around here any more. I tell her that his talkativeness is an inherited naughty gene at work and I promise to do my best although I may not be able to guarantee absolute success. After all how the heck could I change his talkative Mom ! My baby is not to blame completely. He clutches my fingers tightly, carelessly waving his report card and says " I am just trying to guess what present you must have bought me for standing first. Is it BIG or SMALL ? I am amazed at the confidence of my little ladoo . He had expected me to have predicted the glad tidings!
Years , months, days and seasons have gone by. Each stage in life with its ups , downs and exciting hilarious moments.Somebody please tell me, why do babies grow so fast? Where are all those bed time stories and imaginary characters all gone ? Where are Rapunzel and Jack and the beanstalk? Where are the sea of toys which took priority over every thing else ? I have all the time now and much more patience. But my little lad has grown up to be strapping young man with a responsible position in life and a lovely wife. He sings almost like a professional and keeps us spell bound. I am an ardent fan of his and so is the rest of the family which includes his mom- in - law !
Ironically , he still rocks and rolls in my memory with his naughty glee . Everything he did and said and the clothes he wore are as fresh as a daisy in my mind . Cliff Richard's OUTSIDER is still played once in a while at our home . But it is my voice you can hear loud and clear, singing 'I am a SPIDER, that's me' !!
Learning to talk and I am truly mesmerized at all he has to say, a dime a dozen! His little last word on all topics of conversation. The inquisitive and Sherlock Holmes stage - I have to be on vigil. I can read his mind like a book. His eyes gleaming with conspiracy and lips breaking into a half smile. Oh dear! What's next? We have visitors and is he planning one of his awkward questions which seeks an instant answer faster than MERI MAGGI ? I can see his little plump fingers moving hastily towards a pencil. What is this for,I wonder. He whispers into my ears that he has noticed someone in our drawing room with hair sticking out of his ears. He was seeking my permission to curl it with his pencil! Good Lord , how do I handle this? I break into beads of sweat. Permission certainly not granted. I carry this plum pudding to his bed room, trying desperately to transfer a few pearls of wisdom.
Every day I learn so much from this little guy, of course many a time losing tons of patience to the point of exasperation ! Prodigy off to school , wonder why my heart is thumping. Is it me who is entering the portals of knowledge for a second round? In a way Yes and in a way No. His homework becomes my struggle, his four course b'fast complete with juice and eggs ( which he insists upon ) my heartache, to ensure he did not miss the bus and what not. The day of reckoning has dawned . The first parent - teacher confrontation ! I am sitting on a chair like a ' Qaidi ' waiting for the noose to tighten . Lucky husband always has lady luck by him and is Mr. India on all such occassions. Finally the verdict. My son has stood FIRST, believe it or not. Before the teacher ended, she hissed into my ears " Mrs J , your son is very talkative.He carries from home a huge bundle of stories every single day which he happily shares with all. Now I am more than sure that the teacher knows our family history better and what about the secrets? They must be all out in the open. I must not stick around here any more. I tell her that his talkativeness is an inherited naughty gene at work and I promise to do my best although I may not be able to guarantee absolute success. After all how the heck could I change his talkative Mom ! My baby is not to blame completely. He clutches my fingers tightly, carelessly waving his report card and says " I am just trying to guess what present you must have bought me for standing first. Is it BIG or SMALL ? I am amazed at the confidence of my little ladoo . He had expected me to have predicted the glad tidings!
Years , months, days and seasons have gone by. Each stage in life with its ups , downs and exciting hilarious moments.Somebody please tell me, why do babies grow so fast? Where are all those bed time stories and imaginary characters all gone ? Where are Rapunzel and Jack and the beanstalk? Where are the sea of toys which took priority over every thing else ? I have all the time now and much more patience. But my little lad has grown up to be strapping young man with a responsible position in life and a lovely wife. He sings almost like a professional and keeps us spell bound. I am an ardent fan of his and so is the rest of the family which includes his mom- in - law !
Ironically , he still rocks and rolls in my memory with his naughty glee . Everything he did and said and the clothes he wore are as fresh as a daisy in my mind . Cliff Richard's OUTSIDER is still played once in a while at our home . But it is my voice you can hear loud and clear, singing 'I am a SPIDER, that's me' !!
A wonderful entree to blogging ! Loved your debut article Mum. Waiting for a multitude to follow :)
ReplyDeleteSpider you are!! beautifully weaving the web and capturing us!!
ReplyDelete