The Pinku chronicles 

Mishka, my daughter, loves stories. She likes to listen to the stories told by me, likes to hear the books read by us, likes to pretend to read books, likes to play out the stories or reciting the stories to her babies (toys). 

As an avid reader (aka bookworm) myself, I know a lot of stories. And by that I really mean a lot. I’ve read many children’s books,thanks to my father. And I still like them. I like the non plot, nonsensical story lines, the fantasies, the fairy tales, the inspirational or moral messages, the rhymes,  the innocence, and the illustrations. I don’t think any children’s book is complete without the pictures. The pictures are stories within themselves. 

So when telling the stories to Mishka, there was no problem of getting stuck on the material. But then I realised that she’s still a baby and complex plots are beyond her interest. She has her own world which has her home, school, the places she visits and her parents, relatives, school staff and friends. The stories she liked most were those which can be related to this world. 

And thus Pinku was born. It started with a simple story of Pinku and his diapers and to my surprise it was an instant hit. She demanded to hear the story again and again. So more and more Pinku stories were invented which were usually related to what’s happening in Mishka’s world currently. It’s an everyday demand to hear a story of Pinku. 

Now Pinku’s life is not an exact replica of Mishka’s. First of all he’s a boy (though initially Mishka was not of an age to know the difference) and he’s a bit older than Mishka. He’s toddler of around 4. He has a older sister Chinku of 6-7 years who is by all means a very nice girl. He and his sister live with their parents. And their grandparents live somewhere nearby. Pinku and Chinku go to school and do all the things which children of their age usually do. 

These stories of Pinku are never ending and they will go on and on till Mishka becomes big enough to overgrow Pinku. I just want to note some of the good ones. Mind you there are total bad ones. 

And the last word. Nowadays, when asking about a Pinku story, Mishka will give the bullet points and then the story derives from her plot. So if you want to derive your own stories from these, I’ll be glad to hear about those. 

Snow fall keyboard 

So I’ve installed this new keyboard in which as you type, the snow starts falling from the letters and gathers at the bottom. And it looks so pretty! I just love it. 

Incentive to write more and more and more. Just to see the snowfall. 

बायका आणि त्यांची टोळकी

मला एकंदर आमच्या colony मधल्या बायकांची भीतीच वाटते. I can’t fit into their group. सुदैवाने किंवा दुर्दैवाने मी typical बायकी topics वर बोलू शकत नाही. आणि over the period of time अशा बायकांच्या group ची मी धास्ती घेतली आहे. माझ्या सारखी कोणी, जिला धड स्वयंपाक येत नाही, नीट नेटके राहणे जमत नाही,  घरच्या गोष्टी म्हणजे पोरे बाळे, सासू सासरे,  नवरा यांच्या विषयी कोणाशी बोलायला जमत नाही, देवाशी काही संबंध नाही, बरे तर बरे, धड हिंदी English बोलता येत नाही, अशा मुलीचे त्या तरी काय करणार! दुर्लक्ष करणे किंवा चक्क दुष्ट टोमणे मारणे इथपासून ते अवघडलेली संभाषणे सगळे करून झाले. त्यांचे tip top कपडे, make up आणि hi fi English  बघूनच मी त्यांच्या वाट्याला जायला घाबरते.
आणि खरं सांगायचे तर आतापावेतो मला कधी त्यांच्या सोबत deal करायची वेळ पडली नाही.
मी माझ्या आणि त्या त्यांच्या जगात अगदी खुश होतो. पण मिष्का सोबत खाली गेलं की तिच्या वयाची मुले एकत्र खेळत असतात आणि त्यांच्या आया माझ्या मैत्रिणी नसल्याने तिला त्यांच्या मधे जाता येत नाही याचे मला खूप वाईट वाटते. आणि त्यांनी माझे त्यांच्याशी बोलायचे प्रयत्न हाणून पाडले की अजून वाईट वाटते. म्हणजे आपल्या कमीपणा मुळे आपल्या मुलीला का त्रास!

मिष्का च्या नव्या गंमती

मिष्का आता खूप काही बोलते. गाण्यांमधल्या एखाद्या शब्दाचा अर्थ विचारायचा तर “हे काय ” म्हणून विचारते. स्वतःची वाक्ये बनवते.
त्यात माझे आणि नीरजचे बरेच शब्द उचलले आहेत तिने.
“अरे!” हा माझा तर “ओ तेरी” हा नीरजचा.

आता तिला माणसे ओळखू येतात आणि लक्षात राहतात, अगदी आठवण काढण्यापुरती.

इतर मुलांसोबत खेळणे ही सुद्धा नवी प्रगती.

अर्चिस तिच्या पाळणाघरातला जवळचा मित्र. फार गोड पोरगा आहे. आम्ही त्याच्या आधी घरी जायला निघालो तर निरोपाचा एक कार्यक्रम असतो. मिष्का त्याला bye करणार, मग तो तिला bye  म्हणणार, मग पुन्हा ही, आणि मागोमाग तो. असे करत करत तो दरवाजा पर्यंत येणार. मग दरवाजा बंद झाला की मावशी त्याला कडेवर उचलून घेणार आणि तो दरवाज्याच्या खिडकीतून bye करणार आणि मिष्का गाडीमधून. असे  bye bye करणे गाडी निघेपर्यंत चालूच. हे तर राॅबिन हूड आणि धाकला जाॅनच्या  नदी पार करण्यासारखे झाले, तू मला सोड आणि मी तुला.

काल बाहेर जेवायला गेलो असताना तिथल्या playing area मधे एक पोरगा भेटला, मिष्का पेक्षा दोनेक वर्षाने मोठा. त्याला ही फारच आवडली. गालाला हात लावून झाला. आगेमागे पळून झाले आरडाओरडा करत. आमची निघायची वेळ झाली तरी हा काही मिष्काला सोडायला तयार नाही. आम्हाला म्हणाला, “जाऊ नका “. आमच्या सोबत Parking पर्यंत आला. शेवटी मी त्याला त्याच्या आई बाबांकडे सोडायला गेले.
नीरज म्हणाला, “It was love at first sight for him” 🙂

Starry starry night

Yesterday late evening when we were in the park, my daughter pointed at the bright stars in the sky. I was pleased to see the starry sky after a long time. Being in a city sure has its perks, but I couldn’t help missing the starry skies.

The stars are a reminder about our insignificant existence in this grand universe. Try lying down on the wet sand of a lonely beach looking at the black star studded sky hearing the incessant breaking waves. It erases the world tied with the conscious I and leaves you with a blank. The realisation hits you that you’re not even equivalent to a sand particle in the scheme of the universe.

It’s necessary to realize it sometimes in today’s world.

Routine game

My 1 year old daughter is close to utter her first meaningful words. She started with sounds like “bu-te” and “ba-yo” and now at the stage of  “da-da” and  “ba-ba”. She talks to us a lot in her gibberish tongue.

She plays a cute game with her dad. He calls her name and she picks up his tone and says “ba-ba” in the same intonation (Baba is Daddy in our mother tongue). Then he changes his tone, plays with letters in her name, stretching and emphasising in different ways and she mimics him exactly each time with “ba-ba”.

Some routines are so comforting.

Frame of life

It’s fun to have a child and very reassuring to have a loving husband. Nevertheless you’re bound in a life frame.

I would love to be free and enjoy life. I would love to travel, meet new people, flirt and drink, live a reckless and carefree life.

And still I would not trade my current life for all the fun in the world. Because I know those things are fun when I’ve a home to return to. Instead I would try to modify the life frame and grab the fun.


Interesting People

Meeting new interesting people always fascinates me. A gallery with a different world view opens up. Let them talk about their passions, opinions, experiences and you can learn so much.

I miss the intellectual stimuli if no such person is around. And I envy those who lead fulfilling and content lives doing exactly what they want.

Growing up

When you’re a kid, life is simple. Even when you land in trouble, there’s always someone to rescue you; your parents! Sure enough, Mom and Dad can solve all the problems in the world; at least as far as your world is concerned.

The world’s horizons expand with growing up. The world from which your parents protected you opens up. Insecurity, responsibilities creep into your lives along with the freedom. Everyone learns to survive and fight back, so do you. Your parents are still around to help wherever they can; financially, physically or mentally whenever you approach them.

You start a family of your own, have kids, build a life. And one day suddenly you realize that the tables have turned. Your support pillars are now looking at you for the support. You no longer burden them with your problems. You know that they cannot solve it and you want to protect them by keeping them in the dark.

At this point you understand that now onwards you’re on your own. Believe me, it’s scarier than most scary stories.



Learning to be better

While going through the meaningless Facebook photos, status updates and links I found this one.

I liked Eric’s posts not only for the point he’s making; but the way he has put forward his case logically without being judgemental or emotional. I think it must have taken a lot of courage and self control.

I agree with the content of his posts but more than that respect the strength of his character.

As years pass, I would like to evolve in a better human being through the wisdom and experience I gain. And this post is one of such valued learnings.

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