BATTERY CHARGE!!!

Over time, we've come to have a set routine to our day... I wake her up, get her ready for school, feed her, walk her to school, pick her up, give her lunch... maybe take her to the park or the shops, spend some time doing puzzles or reading-writing, have dinner, bedtime... 

Pretty routine stuff for any parent-child combo. What makes our time special is the little rituals we have. 

Every morning, the first thing she does upon waking up is ask - 

'Dad, where's my mum?'

We brush our teeth, which has a method, and she sips on her water, swirls it around her mouth and mimics me as I use my mouthwash... etc. 

One of our most special little quirks is a 'Battery Charge'. 

A battery charge happens when I am exceptionally tired, and am generally lying down, I ask Divu to give me a battery charge. As she thinks the cure to everything in the world is a kiss and a cuddle (Which might just be true), She climbs up on me, gives me a tight hug and kisses me, until she thinks I am sufficiently charged up. Then she lets go and I have to yell 'BATTERY CHARGE' and grab her and tickle her... She does this to me without fail everyday... I don't need to ask... but I must admit it is probably the brightest spot of my day. 

So today we were in the supermarket, having done our shopping and on the way back into the car, I was on the phone with Shonali when my phone battery died. I cursed in frustration and she asked me what happened. I told her that my battery is dead. Without a word, she grabbed a hold of my leg and started kissing my jeans.... charging my battery! 

It was a funny sight, and an elderly lady passing by whooped with delight upon the sight. I couldn't have been prouder. My daughter, thought enough to percieve a problem and try and solve it without anyone asking. And just the fact that she thought to do that was enough to charge my batteries for a lifetime... not that I won't be looking forward to a full battery charge come tomorrow!

What Rubbish!!!

Divya's almost four now, and looking back at whatever little memory I have left of myself at that age (Chief among them being going for an interview to a school and being asked to identify an aubergine), I was a pretty co-ordinated almost-four-year-old. So, why is it that the things she does and says never cease to surprise me. Put it down to a father's outlook, but is n't it too early for my little girl to use big words like 'perhaps', 'certainly', or even 'knuckles' for that matter. 

For instance, the other day, on getting back home from the grocery store, she waddled up to the front door, crooked her finger and started knocking. Then she promptly turned to me and started - 

'Papa, you know, when you make your finger like this, and hit the door with your knuckles (gasp) its called knocking!'

Shocked that she could describe knocking so effectively, i asked her who told her this.

'My mum, the old lady.' She told me.

'Mum teaches you some good stuff doesn't she?' I asked her.

'Yes she does.' She smiled. 

'What about me? what do I teach you?' I asked her, hoping to take some of the credit.

'You teach me all rubbish.' She said and marched into the house. 

Its an example of a little thing she knows... and she does know a lot of things... and it gets me thinking about how exactly she knows things that neither Shonali nor I have taught her... 

she clearly is more observant than most children I have come across... so much so, that I have come to rely upon her to tell me where seemingly lost things are... glasses, keys, wallet, lighter... anything missing, and all I have to do is ask:

'Divu, have you seen my __________', and every single time, I have found myself pointed in the right direction... 

I can't get over the fact that she has grown so much so soon. I find myself already having reached that phase in parenting when one starts reminiscing about how little their baby was when they came into this world... its all a little surreal. 

Your mind stays in that zone, where the doctor got the nineteen inch bundle for you to hold for the first time, but standing in front of you is actually a coherent 4 year old, who can construct sentences, do simple addition, hum a tune, recite the method required to make a chicken curry and identify classical music. 

The more time I spend with her, the more time I want to spend with her. I hate more than anything, to drop her off to school in the mornings... the three hours I have without her in the mornings are three of the longest hours in the world. Especially when, I know what an ordeal it has been just to get her into school. Shonali says that she was the same as well. Hated going to her school, and once threatened her parents with suicide if they sent her... Divu is the same way... She hates going to school. And I hate leaving her there, crying, like that.

But then, If I wouldn't drop her, then i wouldn't get to pick her up, which is te highest point of my day, everyday. See, when I go to pick her up, she's generally sitting in the circle, looking lost, in her own world... and then she sees me, and her eyes light up like two 100W bulbs, she gets up and runs towards me, and hugs me... She can't contain herself... Neither can I, because it reassures in me, that even though I give her so much misery in the mornings, she spends her days waiting for me, and when I see her, she unashamedly proclaims that she loves me... And I have a sneaky feeling that she knows exactly what love is... and ultimately it all boils down to one thing... I might be teaching her rubbish, but at least its the right kind of rubbish.

Let Papa Sleep! (This is a re-post, I had some settings issues with this one)

When Shonali was in her sixth month, My Aunt presented us with the most beautiful cot ever... Now I have never known one wood from another, but even I was clued in enough to know that this wooden contraption was expensive, and it meant the world to my wife... Soon enough, her enthusiasm rubbed off on me as well. We started beautifying what we were determined to make the perfect sleeping environment for our baby... We bought stuffed toys, knick-knacks and the most beautiful cot mobile for her. It had a little lion, a giraffe, a zebra and the token teddy bear, all of whom swayed gently to Brahms Lullaby as the four arms from which each of them hung, rotated.

Not generally interested in stuff like this, I have to admit, I was impressed. I gave in to my wife's demands of buying everything we could under the sun for our baby.

We made countless trips to Dezign (the premiere store for babies, kids, toddlers and what have you in New Delhi at the time), in fact, I don't know how it is possible, but sometimes we landed up there even if we left the house to buy something as mundane as bread... though I drew the line at buying anything blue or pink. I wasn't sure I wanted a boy with a pink cot and wardrobe, or a girl with a blue one for that matter... and those trips ended up with us spending way beyond what we should have, and having no money for anything else, but it was worth it...

Our baby was going to have the most beautiful cot in the world...

And she did...

So, the day we brought her home (that's another story alltogether), imagine our excitement, just at the prospect of putting her in there... In my head I had already pictured the scene in my head, complete with whoops of delight on her part and proud expressions of the kind only parents can have (its an automatic reflex after becoming one) on our faces.

And it was sublime... The moment, when the initial excitement finally wore down and I we lowered her into the cot... She was asleep and we watched her, waiting for her to wake up and get excited... even if she would be up only for about half an hour...

Wake up she did, and one look at her surroundings made up her mind for her entire life. She hated it. She wanted to have nothing to do with that cot. In fact, over time, things got so bad, that even if we brought her close to the thing, she would start crying. She wanted to be on the bed, with us!!!

We were fine with that, in fact we were happy (I was a little afraid of crushing her though!). We were happy that our baby would sleep between us, and we made a little makeshift space between us with her special sheets, and special padding and special blankets and special pillow, just so that she would be comfortable and snug. And to her credit, she slept well... Right from the start, except on the nights when Colic attacked and shook the entire house on its foundations, she was an angel... What I had completely forgotten was that she was only gonna grow, and along with the growth came new movement, and along with the movement came kicks, gouges, pokes and little punches in the middle of the night...

When they say Daddy's little girl, it is not unfounded. I don't know why, but right from the start she took a shine to me... something I still can't figure out. As soon as she started moving, she started shifting more and more towards me... until finally it got to a point where she would take over my bedspace, making me twist and contort my body just to get some space...

I generally stayed up for the middle of the night feed, which was at about 2:00 am and then slept, just so that Shonali could have as much of a full night's sleep as she could get, and be up for the 5:30 am feed. What I found out then was that Divya, my darling baby was a morning person... I would often get up with her pulling my hair, or sticking her wet thumb into my eye. burping, passing gas and generally being satisfied with her existence. The funny thing is that I would wake up smiling, even with no more than four hours of sleep every night for those first six months. And that too was interrupted very often in the middle of the night because I would find that I was being kicked, beaten and poked, all within the span of those four hours within one single night.

The funny thing is, I loved it... Every morning, when she would wake me up, I would just give her the widest smile ever, and pull her closer to me, almost into me, and she seemed to fit perfectly with her head resting under my chin abd her legs raised up on my belly! At that moment, It would feel as if I had attained everything there is to attain in the world. Nothing else mattered...

It was our routine, our special time, the mornings, pure love, pure bonding. The first person to see her smile was me, the first words she said clearly were PAPA, the first person she sang with was me, and the first person she applauded was me. I think those mornings had something to do with it...

Even now, she wakes me up every morning, Only, she is more vocal now, but the excitement on her face upon seeing my eyes open is still the same, as if She's found a secret stash of hidden sweets, and she is not going to share....

And me, Well, I protest, but she does not give in, She climbs over me, pulls my hair, kisses and hugs me, shakes me, slaps me, till I wake up and we share another day full of music, laughter and fun... A day full of secrets that only the two of us share, unspoken words that only come with unconditional love... And it makes me wanna say to her

"Divya, If this how you are going to make me feel for every day of my life, I am glad you don't Let Papa Sleep."

Lessons

If there is one thing that the world tells us today about parenting, then it is the constant hammering in our heads of how difficult it is, and how responsible and serious you have to be to bring up an emotionally healthy child. Thankfully for me, sometimes Divya makes me see it all in a simpler perspective.

A few months ago, she woke up one morning and said to me -

'Papa, I'm so Happy.'

In that beaming, positive, gushing with delight way that only babies and toddlers seem to have. I burst out laughing, making nothing of it. It sounded cute, probably something she picked up from us, after all, when she did something good, we always told her that we were happy. And aren't kids supposed to be like parrots at 2 years of age? Everything they hear is recorded and replayed, which can cause embarrassment, eapecially when she turns around at a party and yells out 'FUCKIN' HELL' potentially hazardous parenting.
So, just like I didn't pay too much attention to the swear words, I didn't pay too much attention to 'I'm so happy' putting it down as a phrase she has parroted. Time passed, and a few days later, Divya turns around and says to me.

"Papa, I love you too much."

Needless to say, the beauty of those words hit my heart like a jackhammer (in a good way), a wrenching pain started right at the core of my heart and I could feel it shoot up straight through my throat and from somewhere through the back of my mouth and nose, find an outlet as tears. It was me who was gushing that day, My daughter had just told me that she loved me. And even though I didn't know it then, because I didn't think she was capable of expressing it that way, I have since come to realize that she means it. See, what I have learnt in these months that she has been saying these things is, that at two years of age, kids don't know what to filter and what not to. they say what they absorb. If the child absorbs swear words, she utters expletives. If she hears, and feels love, attention and care, that's what she gives in return. So I learnt not to swear in front of her, not to smoke in front of her, and not to scream in front of her. Instead, all I needed to do was hug her sometimes, give her a kiss every now and then, and tell her that I love her, for her to make me feel like the most fortunate man alive every single morning.

Her mother thinks I spoil her, but then, I'm sure that if I don't spoil her, then she'll be the first one to question me.
We share some awesome times now. We wake up in the morning and dance to cheap hindi music. both of us can't eat without dropping our food all over ourselves, we read to each other, she makes me talk in a funny Yoda voice and I make her tickle my back, we go to feed the ducks sometimes, and sometimes I light up the barbecue while she just watches and waits till she can get her claws on the chicken. But at the end of it all, We lie down in bed, she stretches her hand out and asks me to put my head on it. And when she is satisfied with our sleeping position, everyday, she says
'Papa, I love you too much!' and gives me three kisses... is what makes me realize that parenting is not as difficult as the books and the world make it out to be. If my two year old can understand the concept of love and happiness, and appreciate it, then I must be doing something right. And going to sleep with that knowledge is what makes life so great.

The first time I saw her...

I remember the day more clearly than I remember any day in my life. The day my daughter was born. It was a Sunday, I had spent the entire day in the hospital, see she wasn't due for a month, but complications had arisen, and an impending sense of 'something is about to happen' had been lurking all day. My wife had been admitted for complications that had arisen in an already harrowing pregnancy. But for some reason I was feeling like the patient.
We had been in the hospital all day, but it was only at 8:30 at night that we realized that my wife would have to deliver tonight...
After a lot of confusion, which included me threatening to beat up the Ultrasound Technician, It was decided to take my wife into the Operation theater at 10:40 pm, and the next hour was one of the toughest in my life...
I remember it like yesterday. Shonali's parents were the first to arrive, which was a relief to me, as I was really out of my depth there, but seeing her mother there, I knew there was someone in control of the situation, not just me and her father, two hulking lumps who knew best how to fret and fume, but were no good for anything else...
We waited in the hospital lobby, waiting for some semblance... through the little window in the operation theatre door, we could see staff urgently milling about, almost looking frantic... Suddenly the nurse came running out in a manner that I had only seen in movies prior to that day.
"Oxygen! Oxygen!" she screamed and the entire staff around the place started milling about, looking for an oxygen tank in places as ridiculous as under the reception desk... Until the same lady who had started the commotion, calmly entered a room and came out seconds later with the Oxygen tank. My father-in-law and I had three heart attacks each by that time. Even mummy looked a little fazed by that performance and moved an inch to the right in her seat.

I looked at the clock above the OT door. It was only 11:00 pm, to me it seemed like hours had passed. Unable to take anymore, I exited the Nursing Home and took my place outside, resting against the hood of my car, and finding a lookout point from where I could see exactly what was going on... Fifteen minutes and three cigarettes later, No news had been heard. Shonali's dad had joined me and pursued his own quest for tobacco with as much vigour as I had. Waiting, looking at the faces inside the nursing home, and trying to figure out what was going on. We didn't go inside, because we knew there would be no answers there.

It was at that time when my family entered the hospital. hugs were given, hands were shaken, but the general atmosphere was a mix of tension and happiness. After saying hi to everyone, I walked out again. This time, Father-in-law and I were joined by my brother, and instead of the anxiety being shared, it only seemed to increase...

And then, we saw some movement. It was 11:38, my sister, who was sitting inside ran towards the door, If I were to describe pure happiness, it was there, in her face...
"GB! I can hear the baby cry!" We threw our cigarettes and ran in, all three of us and I rushed and stood outside the OT door, my brother and sister on either side, and we waited. For what seemed like hours... and then I heard it. The purest, most beautiful sound in the world - "WAAAAAHHH!!!"
The most life changing sound in a man's life - My child crying. I don't know, why, but that sound made me cry... I was full of emotions, I was happy, It was a happiness and excitement I had never felt before... and as I learnt, my life was going to be rife with more of those excitements and joys like I had never had before moments with everything new my child did...
Anyway, the nurse, God bless her, saw my anxiety and came outside to tell me that I had a daughter.
Wow! a daughter... I had a daughter... an entity, a life that would call me Papa. It was too much to take in...

A few minutes later, the doctor brought her out... I saw my daughter for the first time. It was surreal...

My wife came out a few minutes later, Groggy from the Anaesthesia, and was wheeled to her room, Almost at that moment, It was like the nursing home erupted in a party. Family and friends all started pouring in at the same time... I remember being congratulated, being hugged, but I don't remember who did it! All I could think was of my daughter... I asked to see her, but they told me to wait... They were going to take her to the nursery, only then could I see her. I went out for a smoke... but realized that I had smoked ten cigarettes in the last hour... So I tossed my car keys to my brother and we went for a drive... I was still numb, and I tried to contemplate my life as I fished for the secret stash of cigarettes in my car...
After my head had suitably cleared, we went back to the hospital, I realized for the first time that It was now almost 2:00 am... My wife was still under and I had been up since 5:00 that morning.
I went and looked at my daughter one last time, I saw a reflection of my wife. I tried to make head or tail of how I would cope with the responsibility, I mean I was still a kid myself, I loved toys, and played playstation. Didn't fill in the log that my cheque book had! I didn't eat and sleep on time, I left things for the last minute... How was I going to do all that? I pondered over those thoughts and more as I took my place on the sofa next to my wife's bed.
And then, the magnanimity of the situation hit me...
I was a father, and I had the most beautiful daughter in the world... So what If i played video games, She would play with me from now on. So what if I dropped food on my clothes while I ate, We would do it together now... We were partners from now on, partners in crime...
And with those thoughts, I drifted off to sleep that night, the night I became a father.