Rays and Rains: Colourful Diary of Life Journey of Parents and Children

By Aparajita Bose

You are a potter. I am a potter. We are all potters. The life we have got is the clay.
We are all potters, building our lives, building the early life of our children.
There are rules, thousands of them, to build this life, to make it perfect. They form the potters wheel.
But, just as you would be more comfortable shaping your own pot with your own hands, and keep the wheel aside, you would likewise love to shape your life or your childs life with your experiences, your thoughts that visit you, your intuition and the mix of delightful as well as not-so-delightful stories and thoughts and experiences shared by fellow-potters because these together are your hands.
In this journey of life, we pass through rays and rains - the happy and not-so-happy experiences - some experiences with near and dear ones and some with acquaintances and some experiences that are not ours but as real as ours, because they are experiences of people, as real as us, though not known to us.
And as we keep building the pot, we exchange our thoughts with people who too are shaping their pots with their hands. These are thoughts about us and also about our children, about what we see and what we hear and what we feel about ourselves as we move from being people to being parents, from being not-perfect to being trying-to-be-perfect for the sake of the children and finally to being just ourselves

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Jun 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781482833621

Book preview

ABOUT ME

H er heart always with her pen, Aparajita Bose however began as an engineer and soon drifted to the Information Technology world, only to realize years later that she was a square ‘something’ that wasn’t ready to go into a round groove any more. So around fifteen years later, she left it all and began to live her childhood dream that had got buried under the layers of education and careers. She began to write on her website http://www.apubose.blogspot.in/ . in , the Saturday issues of The New Indian Express, Bangalore’s www.citizenmatters.in to name some and has churned out many thematic stories for the young readers of Hoopla Club, a children’s magazine of Bangalore and has also blogged at www.parentedge.in (her articles getting published in ParentEdge newsletters often in the past), www.speakingtree.in , www.womensweb.in , etc.

For long I have tried to observe myself as well as others around. I have had thousands of thoughts visiting me which I have been penning down since long. My website has some of them, the website of ParentEdge www.parentedge.in has a few of them and my book Rays and Rains has many of them and many keep cocooning in my mind.

SANTA CLAUS AND TOOTH FAIRY FOR ALL

S anta Claus and Tooth Fairy were visiting us all the while when recently all of a sudden they seemed to permanently vanish into thin air, well almost, had it not been for my little daug hter………….

It is the time of the year again when there is goodwill and cheer around. Blue sky without a hint of grey and the golden sunshine raise the spirits of one and all. The deciduous trees have begun shedding off their year-long green attire while many of them are already standing bare, shorn of their jewels. There is a nip in the air and the children move around wrapped in woollens, without any cares - for the exams are far away, for the gifts are about to flow in and because Santa Claus is on his way……

My six-year old came in hopping, jubilant and restless. I wish Santa gives something special this time too, he chirped and then after a pause announced emphatically I have been a good boy all through. He was looking at me for an approving nod while I was thinking of the show of muscle power he had had the other day with his best friend. It had ended with the two exchanging blows and We’re not friends any more for the umpteenth time. I let bygones be bygones and instead of raking up the past I said gently You need to wait till Christmas.

Dev went off trotting, his Jingle bells, jingle bells ringing in the air as he went down to the lawn. Two days to go, and Santa was not yet ready with her gifts. It has been me who has donned the role of secret Santa over the years. And over the years I have sought the help of Santa when uninteresting vegetables have to be stuffed into my son’s reluctant mouth, or he has to be sent off to bed at nine much against his wishes. Santa visits only the good children with his stock has been the year-long refrain. My little one has revolted over many matters and quite often Santa has come to my rescue. Now that Santa’s visit was round the corner, all my little promises to my son are flashing back to me. Fortunately, Santa visits only the good boys, not the naughty ones, Santa has a notebook where disobedient children don’t feature. and other mild threats were not taken lightly since where gifts are concerned, Dev seldom took a chance. His temper tantrums too plunge to a low in December.

As I went about the household chores, a thin voice rang out loud from somewhere. Is Santa Claus really there? For a second I froze and then I peeped down from the balcony where I had been fussing over the big stocking that had to be dusted, for Christmas was nearing. Down in the lawn, my son sat in the midst of a group of children. The vital question hung in the air, but before long the one who had thrown it had been cornered by the faithful majority.

How did I receive my Beyblade? my son questioned innocently. And how did my crown come in our stocking? a four-year old girl asked. And who do you think will know that I love chocolates more than Beyblades and leave for me boxes of them every year? My parents dislike my eating chocolates, they would never do that. This was from the group leader, a seven-year old. Under the deluge of questions that strongly supported Santa’s existence, Is Santa Claus really there? drowned quietly. I could not thank enough the little ones for their unshakeable faith in Santa. After all, apart from dropping gifts and spreading joy around, he has made my life a little less of a struggle, considering my six-year old is the least cooperative during mealtimes, excepting when Santa is remembered. I realize I’ll have to make a quick visit to the nearby store before it gets too late and fresh doubts about Santa spring up in Dev’s mind. Every year, Santa has been filling up the stocking with the most interesting gifts and every year I have been introducing new vegetables in the menu during Christmas time.

The other day my son came in with a clouded face and knitted eyebrows. Tell me a secret, he almost whispered. As I waited, wondering what was coming my way, he blurted out All this while, were YOU leaving the Christmas gifts in the stocking, not Santa Claus?

Little Dev is now nine years old.

The truth had to come out some day – I just hoped I had not gone overboard.

And Tooth Fairy too never visited?!….. He was barely audible by now. Was he disappointed? Was his world of Santa Claus and Tooth Fairy crumbling down too fast or too early? Was it the end of innocence for him? Would he ever enjoy the moral stories I spun for him when he went to bed in night, saying they were real-life incidents from Santa’s life?

As I stood unsure of what I should say, I wondered how many mothers in the world have been caught lying by their young children. But wait a minute. Had I been lying? Not really. I was no longer tongue-tied. The words flowed out effortlessly. There is the world where we all live our life, which is there for everyone to see and then there is the imaginary world tucked away in the secret recesses of our minds where Santa Claus and Tooth Fairy keep visiting until we are ready to let them free for the younger children all over the world waiting for them.

Well Mom, I think you are right. But let not Vini know about this. Santa should keep showering her with gifts every year. He was whispering again. In the next room, my little daughter was playing with the xylophone she had dug out of the stocking this Christmas, blissfully unaware of the conspiracy just hatched between her mother and brother. Five years on, she might come to me with an equally clouded face and the same questions.

Will my reply be any different? Time will tell.

BAND AID

W hy did you leave me and go to her house? My son sounded devastated as he came up the steps, his friend following him.

They called me for snacks. My mom was there too. So I went. Dev was not convinced. That his friend alone was invited and he was forgotten obviously hurt him.

He picked up his recent most acquisition, a tool set, complete with hammers and spanners. Dangling it right before Ravi’s nose, he triumphantly declared – My papa got it for ME from U.S.. I’m never going to share this with you!

Not to be outdone, Ravi promptly took up his long-forgotten badminton racket from Dev’s toy basket, retaliating, This is MINE, not yours! So the battle had begun…..it was almost time for adult intervention.

Dev and Ravi are next-door neighbours and soulmates….well, almost. Their families stay in the same apartment. The kids’ screams and laughter on every holiday they share keep our building alive.

Ravi’s mother rushed in, blissfully unaware of the latest in the series of hot-and-cold sessions of the two pals. Giving me a hurried account of their busy day ahead, Sona coaxed her son away for lunch. Her timing could not have been better.

My four-year old looked up at me, his eyes two small pools about to overflow. He has always refused to accept that he too has been equally disloyal to Ravi in the past, leaving him alone during peak hours of their play sessions to attend birthday parties, armed with full knowledge that cute ‘return gifts’ awaited him there.

The issue of why his bosom friend had separated from him voluntarily on a holiday lay unresolved. And the risk of Saturday lunch slipping away from being the usual family event loomed large. The occasion demanded that I help my son through this heart-breaking episode. Taking up the challenge, I said Never mind, you two will be friends again when both of you can forgive and forget. Now, does our sweet angel know what surprise I have for him? It was a cream roll I had fortunately stored in the refrigerator. The forgive-and-forget was one of my many attempts to help my son get over such small shows of betrayal from his friends though it didn’t help much. My little one sat stiff, his face dark with sadness and anger.

I hated to take the aid of the television, so set about blending a pineapple juice, his favourite dessert. Lunch and yummy dessert over, Dev’s spirits up again, and my husband’s cell-phone put on mute, the Saturday held the promise of long-awaited, precious few hours with just the three of us playing chess and trying out origami shapes. I am a working mother, staying away from home for twelve hours a day, five days a week. The fast pace of modern life and endless list of household chores squeezed into the little spare time my hectic schedule allows me doesn’t give me much time for bonding with my only child. Matters get more difficult when there are two soul-mates separated by just a few yards. The next few hours disappeared in origami and puzzles and updates on the latest happenings at his school - enough to make my husband retire for a nap, smug with the feeling of having spent good amount of quality time with his family.

The afternoon sun slowly crept up our balcony as my son, a little sleepy by now, nestled in my lap, playfully tossing my hair. Recalling Sona’s plans for the day, with no danger of Ravi coming over to snatch away my time with Dev, I thought, somewhat guiltily that such spats with his friends gave me more time with him. Wasting not a minute, I settled down with an armful of story books. ‘Ugly duckling’, ‘Cinderalla’, ‘Robinson Crusoe’, ‘Red Riding Hood’ and some more took my son to faraway lands one after the other when suddenly the doorbell went ting-tong.

There was Ravi, standing at the door, with two bagfuls of potato chips, all apologies. I’m sorry, Dev. Won’t you play with me? I wondered what had disrupted Sona’s plans for the day.