'Chang amma's mind'

Prayers (especially in my religion) usually begin with an invocation to the Elephant God like this - Shuklambharadharam Vishnum... At my daughter's convent school, she's taught to Praise the Lord or Thank the Lord for everything.

As little S sits down for her meal, she closes her eyes and obediently utters a Thank You prayer that goes something like this:

Thank you God

For the food we eat

For the water we drink

And for everything

Amen!

And when I'm angry and don't talk to her for a while, she writes little notes and shows them to me (albeit discreetly by her standards) by stealthily tip-toeing and placing the note right next to me while I'm engrossed in reading, cooking, chatting, and whatever-else-I-might-be-doing-then. You have to be a child at heart to know all about exchanging silly notes. Anyway... her notes are almost always the same and can be summed up as - "Amma, I am sorry. I love you. Will you talk to me...".

Or sometimes the notes would contain a short poem (and her favorite one too) which S has learnt from Barney and Friends.

I love you

You love me

We're all a family

Let me give a kiss

From me to you

Won't you say

"I Love You"

And oh... once S had modified the poem only slightly when I whacked her for creating ruckus, and not studying.

I love you

You hate me. Why?

We're all friends - I say that

Let me give a kiss

From me to you. Please.

Won't you say

'I Love You'?

Need I say how very sad I was over the next few days for breaking her heart and making her feel miserable. :(

But my little monkey never leaves an opportunity to test my patience, let it simmer a while, then bring it to a boil... and when the boiling point is finally reached, I stop speaking to her for a couple of hours. And this time (which was just two days ago), I was totally off and I hadn't spoken to S for almost half a day.

Now little S realized she's in trouble. And she had a real tough time winning back her mom. She tried writing notes which were quietly ignored. She tried to wriggle-wraggle, wriggle-wraggle, wriggle-wraggle like Donald Duck who is a one-legged, two-legged, three-legged, four-legged duck which almost always does the trick as her mom bursts out laughing. But sorry boss, it wasn't about to happen this time.

So, S had to tread a new path and write a different kind of note now - basically seeking Divine Intervention. And, she sent out a prayer God's way.

"Dear good God,

I want to talk, play and study with amma. Dear God, please chang amma's mind.

kindly srishtii."

But, of course, God also had ignored her for a bit so she realizes that while it's okay to make mischief and test mom's patience, it's NOT okay to disobey and ignore studies (especially when the mid-term exams are drawing closer). But God (good God) is God after all. Benevolent and loving that He is, He did 'chang' (I would rather not think about the Wikipedia definitions of the word) S's amma's mind. And thus, the story ends in another "... happily ever after" reunion. Peace to all! :)

Of snakes, spiders and scares!

Today thou shall all be treated to a quiet recording of banter between two cousins (of almost the same age) in a smallish car travelling on the smallest path in a smaller village...

S: I told you not to roll down those windows.

N: But it's hot and I want air.

S: Amma switched on the fan no! And it's evening. It's not even afternoon. Why do you want the windows to be opened?

N: (adamant) Because I don't like it if it is hot.

S: (equally adamant) Then you go and sit in the front and open those windows.

N: But atta is driving. I don't want to disturb her. And why should I go? You go if you don't want to sit near open windows.

S: (a bit nervous and apprehensive about revealing her fears) There are snakes hiding in these trees, and they'll come inside if you keep the windows open.

N: I don't believe you. And I'm not scared of snakes anyway.

S: But I'm scared of snakes.

N: Why? They don't do anything. I've seen snakes a lot of times.

S: I also saw snakes at my atta's house sometimes. But I'm scared of them. We will die if they come inside the car and bite us.

N: If you don't do anything, they don't bite us.

S: Why are you behaving like that? You're also scared of something I'm sure. All children are scared of something...

N: I'm not scared of snakes. I'm only scared of lions and tigers.

S: But they don't stay in the village or come here. Then why are you scared of them? I am not scared of lions and tigers at all.

N: (teasing) But you're scared of snakes.

S: (sulking) Yes because they can come and bite us now also.

N: What else are you scared of?

S: I'm scared of spiders also.

N: (laughing out loud) But why? They're very small and they don't bite also.

S: No, they also bite. And it's okay if I'm a boy and they bite me. But I'm a girl no. That's why I'm scared.

N: Huh?

S: You know, if a spider bites a boy he'll become Spiderman once he becomes big. But I don't know if a girl can become Spiderwoman if the spider bites her.

N: Ohhh...

N and S are still lost in thought when I switched off my mental record button and killed the car's engine as well. The house is in sight, and the girls are in mirth as they spot their one-year-old brother running towards them. And there ends our sweet banter, and the complex thought process too!!

For a few amenities more...

Generally speaking, two months is a long-enough period to get over things but, somehow, the tragedy of the untimely death of this 14-year-old boy still remains fresh in my mind and keeps visiting my thoughts. I guess it's not really very easy to forget and move on when the tragedy happens to be a heart-wrenching one and the victim happens to be an innocent young kid. Apparently, the snake that bit the boy is an extremely poisonous small green reptile that hides in the trees, jumps on to its unsuspecting, hapless victim(s), bites, and disappears as suddenly as it appears.

This incident keeps rewinding in my mind's eye as I brave the jungle-like path en route to my tuition everyday. And each time I pass by those huge terrifying wild trees on my way back when it is much darker and much more scarier, I keep wondering if I'll be the next innocent victim of a vengeful venomous snake. I know my fear almost sounds like an Urban Legend sequel. But life in this part of the country is not really that easy. Nor is it an eternal source of enjoyment sans worries, tragedies, tensions as is often portrayed. Neither is my home always going to be a risk-free retreat or a safe haven for my urban friends.

Not very long ago, there was this gas leakage near my daughter's school. And no, this was not because of negligence but because of poverty. No job = more poverty. Somebody tried stealing the brass knobs of gas cylinders (filled with chlorine) from a factory. If this is not tragic, what else can be? Those involved in the theft not only risked their life but also the lives of people in the vicinity - for a few rupees more.

And a few days prior to this incident, while commuting to Berhampur every night for over a week to stay with niece who delivered at Christian Hospital, I was shocked beyond words when I witnessed the pathetic living conditions of people in this part of the world (read absence of toilets) where women are forced to answer nature calls late at night under the dark canopy of the star-lit sky, and quickly hide their face(s) as the headlights of that one-odd vehicle passing by focuses on them for a brief moment.

Why the hell are we witnessing such shameful conditions even after 60 years post-Independence? Are we independent, really? And why are these villagers not standing up in arms against their apathetic condition? And how are these women tolerating this torture every night of their lives? If people themselves are not interested in working towards their betterment, who'll come to their aid? What freedom, life, and dignity are we talking about?

It was not so much of a culture shock... it was more of disgust towards the apathy of the government and its failure in every aspect of governance that frequently troubles my soul. I'm also now reminded of a rainy evening and my frustration, almost a year ago, when I got drenched completely as the bus I was travelling in started leaking.

All these incidents might still be bearable. What is unbearable is the death of a young boy, primarily due to lack of proper medical care in the village(s) in and around Berhampur. I don't think there's any justification to that tragic death, and the apathy of the officials and the pitiable living conditions around here make the crime that much more unpardonable!!!