Ugly Saal

My Pupa says so many cute things these days, I don't even know where to start documenting them! These days he's on a Hindi fix - he's been trying to construct sentences in Hindi - and he really doesn't know how to, bc he's just more comfortable in Bangla in general. But I've been noticing he won't speak to me in Bangla, even though he knows how to say that particular sentence in Bangla.

This weekend I had the root canal from hell and was lying around doped up, comatose, holding my mouth for most of my waking hours. He was so sweet and gentle around me.

"Mumma ouchie hain?" and he brings my bone stem for my foot ultrasound. I explain that the ouchie is in Mumma's "mooiya" and not "pau."
"Oh, acha." pronounced just like that. Not the aspirated "achchha" that it should be :-)
"Mumma mooiya ouchie, bandaid?" I explained that I need "dawaai" for this ouchie to go away.
So he begins yelling to Baba in the other room.
"Baba!! Mumma dawaai!" he struggled a bit constructing a sentence, I can't remember what he did in between, but finally landed on "Baba! Iski dawaai kahaan hai?"

His other thing is calling me "bete." I think he got that from Nani, bc we don't call him bete, but I know Nana-Nani do. "Oh, bete, yeh kya hai?" Or just throwing in bete for the sake of it.

He keeps asking me to go visit Iain bhaiya. "Iain bhaiya kaachhe jaabe?" (We'll go to Iain bhaiya?) And I always respond with "Agle saal," next year. Now he just answers the question for himself - "Ugly saal." 

The Last Time

I read this poem a couple of years ago, when Puchku was just a little baby, and it made me really sentimental (of course) - and reminded me of when I was a girl and had this tradition of 'Tuckkoo' with my dad. He would scoop me up in his arms, like a little baby, and carry me to my bed, and tuck me into bed by cocooning me into my 'coshi rajaai' (cozy quilt) and kiss me good night. This ritual lasted way longer than you imagine. I remember being 12 years old and running to the furthest corner of the house so that my 'godi ride' would be as long as possible. And I would stiffen up my body and straighten out my legs to make it difficult for my dad to get through the doorways - he would angle at diagonals to fit me through. My mom would rebuke me 'शरम नहीं आति - इतनी बड़ी हो गयी है, अभी भी डैडी से गोदी में उठवा रही है?' (Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You're so big and still having your father carry you?) My dad, always the out-of-box thinker that he is, would laugh it off, and tell her, 'करने दे. और कितने दिन कहेगी? एक दिन ख़ुद ही मना कर देगी।" (Let her do it, how much longer will she ask for it? One day, she will stop asking for it herself.") He went on to promise me that he would give me 'Tuckkoo" for as long as I asked for it, and would never say no. 

As he predicted, I did stop asking for it. We moved to a new house when I was 16 (yes, it lasted THAT long) and it was two storied, unlike the other homes we had previously resided in. I remember thinking that I could ask Daddy for tuckoo, but then thought it might be a bit much with the stairs and all. And I figured, moving to a new house was a landmark enough occasion to stop asking for it. 

Reading this poem made me think that I will never say no to 'godi' to my little boy. He's 33 lbs now, and well over half my height, so I look ridiculous carrying him - but pretty soon I'll have to stop carrying him godi bc it just won't be physically possible, so I try my best to carry him whenever he asks for it. 

But the reason I decided to write this blog post today is because I'm remember that Puchku always used to cry whenever he would see his nanny, Delmi, on Tuesday mornings. He would cry, cling to me, my legs, make excuses of 'ninni' or anything else he could to get me to stay with him. Wednesday the crying would taper to a whimper, and by Thursday and Friday he was fine with her arrival. Then the weekend would happen, and the same would repeat on Tuesdays all over again. 

I noticed in the last month or so, that he wasn't crying on Tuesdays anymore. He would see Delmi, and conversely start saying to me 'Bye Mumma! Mumma chakri korchhe!' (Mumma's working now). To the point that I would be making up excuses to linger around the room a little bit longer. I realized, that 'the last time' of him crying may have already happened, and I don't even remember when it was. 

I made myself feel better by remembering that we would be going on a 3 week cruise with the whole family, and upon returning, he would surely cry when he saw Delmi. I know - how evil is that - WANTING him to cry when he sees his nanny!! And so today the day arrived, and I prepared him by telling him that Delmi was coming. "No! No more Delmi!" The signs were looking promising for a waterworks outbreak. And then the moment arrived, and Delmi brought her 7 year old niece, Valeria with her - who Puchku just adores. "Smart move!" I told her when she came in, and we both laughed. Puchku didn't shed a tear. 

It was a bittersweet moment. I was, of course, happy that he didn't cry, and was looking forward to his day with friends. He's growing up so fast - it feels even faster than before because it's not the physical growth that's accelerated, but the mental growth. I'm grateful for all the time I get with him, because I know not all mothers have the luxury that I have - of half the time with a nanny, and half the time with me. It's a balance that keeps me sane with my own life and ambitions, and lets me savor the time that I do have with him. 

Hero Worship

Cute moment this morning I felt I should write about.

Puchku's really been into this Aveeno lotion we have in the living room. He always asks me to squirt a bit on both hands, and I've taught him to expand his realm of just smearing it on his hands to including his thighs (the kid never wears pants around the house - if I can get his underpants on him I feel like I've succeeded). There was a time when he started smearing it on his legs and he had his pajamas on... Anyway he's expanded to his cheeks and face, which is fine. Today he asked for the standard lotion, and then I see he's putting it on his forehead, into his hair. I start squealing, saying that's yucky! He goes over to the mirror and runs back over saying "Mumma! Puchku Withik!" He had styled his hair in a spiky hairstyle with the lotion, to what he thought was like Hrithik Roshan's hair.

His favorite Hindi movies have now expanded to the following:

• Dhoom 1 (Umesh Dhoom, bc the first time he watched it, Umesh was visiting. We have an action sequence that we enact regularly together - and he can identify Abhishek, Uday, Esha, and John)
• Dhoom 2 (Withik Dhoom - where he can identify Aishwarya & Bipasha, and Uday & Hrithik but hasn't made the connection that Abhishek from Dhoom 1 is the same Abhishek from Dhoom2 bc the guy put on 30+ lbs between the two films)
• Ek Tha Tiger (Salman & Pacheena - Katrina, his total fave actress)
• Om Shanti Om (ShahRukh Om Shanti - you should see his rendition of the OG 'Om Shanti Om' song with the growling 'aaaaaah!' in the end - oh, and he really likes Deepika too)
• Daawat-e-Ishq ('Daamne Ishq' which is a total different genre from the rest of his preferences. But he loves yelling 'Gullu' and 'Taruuuu!' dialogues, and dancing to the title song by making a frisbee a thali and using it as a dhapli the way Taru does in the opening of the song)
• Bang Bang (the O.G. that sparked his love for Withik, his favorite hero, and Pacheena, his favorite actress. I often find him and Delmi, his nanny, watching this film when I come home at night - I suspect Delmi enjoys Hrithik as much as the rest of us do!)

As I write this post, on a Saturday morning, my son is walking around only wearing a shirt (lost the battle of putting on his underwear after 2nd round of potty), spiked hair, blue finger nails (he's recently gotten into weekly nail polish, he chooses his color - and no mention of what his hands are busy playing with), singing 'Jana Gana Mana' - I think he knows more lyrics of the Indian National Anthem than I do. 

Why would anyone choose to sleep in on a Saturday morning when this is the alternative? :-)