Snapshot: Three Little Words

She's 3 and 5 months. Her first day at school dawns. She's all set and eager. Armed with brand new school-bag, brand new pencil-case, with brand new pencil, rubber and other implements, she goes forth to face the outside world. When we reach the school gates, she lets go my hand and runs off into the grounds. I watch with a twinge of regret. What? No crying and clinging to Mommy, as Bozo had done for days? Not even a hug and a 'Bye, Ma'? But that was ok. She'd been rearing to go to school ever since he'd started and it had been difficult sometimes to get her away when we'd gone together to drop him off! So I let her go. I watched as she joined up with Tania and Pum-Pum and said hi to Titli Didi. And then, Miss Rita scooped them up and took them into her playgroup.

She came home that day a tired but happy little girl. The crisp new uniform of white shirt and red gingham tunic was not so crisp or so new any more and the white socks and little black 'ballerina' shoes were well-soiled, but she fell asleep over her lunch and only awoke around 5.

That evening, we were all sitting in the lounge, generally chatting, Bozo and Mini happily playing with their Lego blocks. Suddenly, Mini began to shout something out, in a loud, strident voice. She kept shouting three little words as she got up and clambered onto the divan that stood under the switches. We watched in shock and horror as we realized what she was saying. "Shuck-a-Fuck! Shuck-a-Fuck! Shuck-a-Fuck!"

Obviously, we were stunned and didn't know what to say or do for a bit. Obviously it was something she'd picked up in school that day. She carried on her chant as she stood up on the divan and switched the fan off. And then, she stood there a few seconds, looking VERY pleased with herself, almost looking for approval. Then, she switched the fan back on and wordlessly returned to her brother on the floor.

We grown-ups sat there non-plussed, wondering what it was all about. Then I asked Mini. What was that you were saying? "Shuck-a-Fuck! Miss Rita bol-lo, Ingriji te fan off koro ke bole, Shuck-a-Fuck." (Miss Rita said, in English, 'Switch off the fan' is Shuck-a-Fuck.)

We grown-ups were even more mystified. Miss Rita? Chaste and a virgin, religious, 30-something Miss Rita? Did she even know the word, let alone teach it to her 3-year-olds?

It was Bozo who put our minds at rest. Apparently, instead of saying Switch off the fan, dear Miss Rita preferred to say Shut the fan.

Obviously with so much else having happened on that day, it got just a little bit twisted as little Mini remembered it!

To have or not to have .....

... A Birthday Bash.

It's been a long time (18 years, actually) since either Arup or I have felt inclined to celebrate our birthdays. Well, we really, really want to celebrate each other's birthdays, but since neither wants to celebrate their own, we just don't. Me, I still hate it when my birthday comes around, ...

Oh, we celebrate in our own small, low-keyed way: on my birthday, he'll take me out and we'll order a bottle of good, red wine and have a scrumptious meal at our favourite restaurant; on his, I'll make him his favourite meal of aaloo parathas and kosha mangsho (Indian bread stuffed with potatoes and fried and mutton, fried up with spices) or aaloor dum and Mughlai Parathaas
(a potato curry and an Indian bread stuffed with minced meat and fried with egg poured in). Then there's the traditional kheer, or rice pudding.

It was Arup's 60th last week. I wanted to have a really BIG BASH. And he actually agreed. Well, he didn't say his usual vehement NO, but said, "We'll see after my test." So we 'agreed' to do something over the weekend instead. We went out for dinner on the day after his test, and ..... that was it.

What excuse have I for not organizing it? I have none! I went to the extent of roping a friend in to help me organize it and came up with a great design for a cake. Even invited a few friends. AKD went along with it, but I could see it was only because I wanted it. His heart was not in it and I knew he'd be miserable. I knew because I knew I'd feel the same if it were my birthday. So I called the whole thing off.

And now, I'm not sure if I'm regretting it. Do you think I should have just gone ahead with it? I sound like a VERY confused person, no?!!!

Having written this, I'm now inclined to organize a belated party for him.

So, CHEERS, Arup! Happy 60th. As Mini said, "You made it, Fatso!

For some reason, I couldn't upload photos, so for pics, go to

http://picasaweb.google.com/elgeedeb/AKDSpecial

Kolkata, Thammar Badi

While on the Bandel to Calcutta trip, here's another one:

Mini just adored her Thakur-Ma, Thamma for short. (Paternal Grandmother for the uninitiated.) So whenever we made that trip, she knew it was to visit her grandmom.

But there was a firmly fixed idea in her three-year-old little head - When we reached Howrah station, the main railway station for Cal, we'd all talk about having arrived. Getting off the train and all through the ride to Dover Road where they lived, we'd try to tell her that we were now in Calcutta.

But no. She was not to be kidded. "Kolkatta aekhono aashe ni." "Calcutta has not yet come." She was VERY FIRM in this knowledge and would watch the roads very intently.As the car or taxi turned into the drive-way of Number 10, Dover Road, she'd turn to us and announce smugly, "Eyi to Kolkatta, Thamma-ar Baadi!" "Here it is, Calcutta, Thamma's house!"

As if to say, "You guys! You know nothing!"

And guess who enjoyed it the most? Big, wise older brother, Bozo, of course! - he thought it was tho thweet...

Mini Bus, Bozo Bus

With only one week of school holidays left, I thought I'd get some 'snapshots' in.

When we were in Sahagunj, where Dunlop had their factory, we'd travel every other week to Cal to visit Arup's parents. Often, the whole 3-hour-or-so-journey would be by car but sometimes we'd take the local train and then a taxi from Howrah station to Dover Road.

Whenever we were on the go, I'd mostly have the kids VERY close to me. - Yes, both of them! - Mini propped up in one arm and Bozo perched on one knee. Sometime he'd slide off onto the seat, but still keeping pressed to me, his hand clutching my knee...

Well, I did say 'mostly'. If we were by ourselves, no other Dunlopian travelling with us, for him to talk to, Arup would have Bozo on his knees and talk to him. If Subir (Sengupta, Subir Kaka) was travelling with us, Mini would sleep in his arms - and do unspeakable things to him.

I was in the habit of talking to them all the time if they were close by, and getting them to respond. They'd be wonder-struck by the most mundane of things. "Look at that tree. How BIG it is!" "Watch out! There's another train going in the opposite direction, flashing by us." "That's Howrah Bridge. Why do you think it's there?" (Bozo's answer? "So people don't have to get wet if they want to cross the river.") "That yellow car's a taxi!" ('Tah-sheeee!' Bozo'd say.) And his favourite was the mini-bus. They were all brown in those days. Our Mini was a late talker (and did she make up for that!) so she'd just chortle and chuckle and gurgle and bounce up and down on my knee when she began to sit there. Each time we saw a mini-bus, there was much excitement.

On retrospect, I doubt if they knew why it was a mini-bus. Obviously, they only associated it with our Mini. Maybe they thought it belonged to Mini. Or maybe they decided it was the name of the bus - one bus that mysteriously appeared all over the place, just because it WAS another Mini, so had to be part of us. Who knows what deductions such little ones make from things we grown-ups take for granted, so don't bother to explain?

One day, Bozo came up with the clincher. I suppose he'd deduced from his learnings at school what a 'bus' was, and what 'mini' meant. So he brilliantly put the two together and on one trip, he shouted out, "Oi to! Oita Bozo-Bus!" "There it is! That's a Bozo-Bus!"

It was one of the usual, larger buses and most pleased he was when we agreed heartily...

And from then it was "Mini-Bus", "Bozo-Bus" all the way home!

Snapshot

I never saw this sight myself, but it has been described to me several times, by different people, Purobi or Tutu or both amongst them:

Brother and sister are studying at the Dunlop English Medium School. School used to give over at about 1230 hours, and all the kids were naturally famished and tired and often cranky. Mini is a year and eight months younger than Bozo, so there's not that much of a difference in their sizes.

The sight described to me is like a photograph in my mind -

They're returning home from school. Bozo has his school bag AND Mini's slung about his shoulders, but on his chest. Mini is riding piggy-back!

If that's not cute enough, Mini on several occasions had this stick in her hand, pretending to be riding a horse. Cute, because I've never heard it told that she USED it!

Yaad-e-Daag

November, 1975:

Mini takes her very first flight on Indian Airlines. (There wasn't anyone else to fly with, those days!) For some reason, their Dad is already in Calcutta and I'm following him with two babies: 4-month-old babe-in-arms Mini and 2-year-old toddler Bozo. (Take note, Y, ....)

Bozo I knew would pose no problem. He was easy-going even as a baby and would be happy with me talking and pointing things out to him or even going off with the air-hostess for a while. Mini? From the last snippet you'll remember that this is one smart kid, who's not likely to keep very still during the 2 and a half hour flight, not to talk about the long wait at the airport. And she was VERY wary of strangers, very choosy, actually, for she'd hold her arms out to one stranger and cry murder with the next.

So I'd been wracking (racking? where does that expression come from, anyway?) my brain for ideas. Cough syrup? Even Phenalgan? Na-ah! Not on a flight, anyway... so, what?

I remembered the flight was an afternoon one, and had a brainwave - DON'T LET HER HAVE HER MID-MORNING NAP. That worked out fine. She was a bit cranky, but fell asleep in the cab on the way to the airport. She slept soundly through the ride and the wait at the airport. The three of us got onto the plane. Lots of compliments all round about how well I managed, how well-behaved my two were, etc., etc.

She slept through it all like a...like a...well, like a baby, what else!

Then they began serving the snacks. That's when my inexperience showed. "Tea, Madam?" Tired as I was, I couldn't resist the cuppa that was extended towards me. "Yes, please," I replied and carefully took it my free hand.

Well, I don't know if I got down to that. Taking it in my free hand, I mean. For all I remember is the cup of hot tea hovering in the air, with the saucer hovering below it. As if in slow motion, the two tilt and begin to tip and come down, perilously, pouring the tea onto me and the wriggling baby in my arms.

Had she been waiting for the right moment to kick? Had she had that gleam in her eyes, keeping them half shut so I'd think she was asleep? Whatever. Her aim was good and her tiny foot had soundly kicked that cup and saucer into the air.

Of course, there was a huge fuss. The baby's screams had heads turning, some annoyed at having their naps so rudely disturbed. The hostess ran for the BurnAll (they were caring still, back then) while I brushed the hot liquid off my now screaming baby. The hostess came back with two others and they grabbed Mini and rushed her to the loo. I followed. We poured cold water over the now angry, red patches on her stomach and then applied the Burnall. She quietened down only when I put her to feed, still making angry, protesting noises as she fed!

Fortunately, Mini does not have any scald marks. Baby skin and all. I have one still, very faded, very light, on my thigh, which I can see only because I know it's there.

Pyar ka daag...the mark of love.

Thanks, Mini.

;-(

And Bozo slept through it al...

Snippets

Now here's another "occasional" one... only the second this year, tch, tch ..... and this time it's Mini's birthday.

I've been racking my brain for ideas, but a certain lethargy seems to have come over me these past few months. I know I don't have to write anything at all, but I couldn't bring myself to just let the day go by without a mention of it here. So here I am...

And why would I talk about just Mini when this is a Bozo blog? Because, for me, they are inseparable. That's all I'll say to that question, for those who know the Deb family know what I mean.

I so wish I had more snaps of my daughter as a little girl! But, well, no point crying over spilt milk, is there? I do have scores of her as a girl and a young woman, though, and some videos as well. So, you see, I do seem to love her, after all! ;-)

I do also have lots of mental snaps, little snippets, so thought I'd "develop" them today and "print" them here for you.

Obviously, the first memory is of that night in the hospital in Madras. It was K. J. Hospital, on Poonamalee High Road. Very posh, not something we could really afford at that time, but the doctors knew us and had been taking care of my pregnancy, even though they were still building their maternity wing then and were not really ready to take on delivery cases. So ours was to be the first baby ever to be born in that hospital.

I went in just after midnight. It was one looooong labour, as this kid didn't want to come out. She had actually grabbed the cord and wound it firmly round her neck several times, so by the time Doc Vis (Jagannatha Vishveswaran, the 'J' of K J Hospital) pried her out, she was black and blue - - and - - very silent.

A few sharp slaps on her back-side, and she was protesting VERY loudly, I tell you!

But those were the first really bad moments of my (then) 24 years. I was so afraid I'd lost her. And then when I heard her, I was sobbing with relief and happiness. It's a girl, said Doc Vis.

Of course, my first question was the same as every mother's in the labour room: Is she alright?

And then, they put this tiny, squirming bundle into my arms. And it went still at once, snuggling after a moment, searching, ....

Of course, we hadn't known it was to be a girl. And of course it was what we had both secretly hoped for.

And here's my snap-shot of my first glimpse of my daughter's face (only another mother of a daughter can know what that word really means to me!):

She had a head of very black hair. She was wheatish-complexioned, still a bit bluish in patches from her earlier trauma. Her nose seemed tiny compared to her cheeks, which were round and plump and rosy - flushed! Her lips were a bright pink and perfectly shaped, a rose-bud! I looked deep into her eyes. They were large and very dark. To me, beautiful, even though rather sunken, as a new-born's tend to be!

Of course, she had lost no time nosing around and instinctively finding her source of nourishment, and sounds of her feeding filled the room. There are no words to express a woman's emotions when her baby suckles at her breast, so I shan't try....

Coming back to her eyes. She gazed up at me as she fed and suddenly, it struck me - Hey! A baby's eyes are supposed to stay shut for the first few hours. Bozo's had, all the books said so.....And here was this one, hardly 15 minutes old, and I had not seen her close her eyes! I thought then, she was special.

When she was through, satiated, she closed her eyes and fell asleep. I had to burp her, though, so put her to my shoulder. She woke up and - LIFTED HER HEAD TO LOOK AROUND THE ROOM!

Now Bozo had not neen able to lift his head on his own for a couple of weeks. And here she was, about 30 minutes old, .....I KNEW now she was special!

Well, it's late and I'm somehow inclined to sleep tonight with this first image of my own little girl in my mind. I know I'll sleep blissfully.

But I will be back with more snapshots from DE LIVES OF DE DEBS.

In the meantime, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Mini. WE love you to bits.