It was a fun Sunday when we five families drove up to Shakespeare Park in Whangaparoa , North Auckland. We propped up the tent , laid out the mat and chilled . The kids frolicked in the ice-cold water , skimmed stones , collected shells , attempted constructing a sand castle with an elaborate drainage system and generally had a good time . Sandwiches , upma and other assorted treats were washed down with beer and soft drinks .
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Would not have imagined that my son's first day at kindy would have such an impact on me . Him , who for the last three and a half years has lived a sheltered life under the watchful eye of us , his parents , and more recently his grandparents , being suddenly sent away for 4 hours to be among other kids and strange adults was , to say the least, daunting. What if he wanted to make poo-poo , who would clean him , would they clean him as good as he was cleaned at home . Even though he's been under training to clean himself , would the minders actually supervise him. What if he suddenly wanted to go home , would he be left in the corner to cry himself dry and hoarse. How would he interact with the other children , would he pay heed to the adults' admonitions or reprimands . These were the thoughts that passed through our minds on our way to the kndergarten.
Kyle is a bold child and usually makes friends quickly . So our fears were put to rest when he took to the kindergarten like a fish being thrown back into the water . There he was using a paint brush dipped in blue paint to make his first masterful strokes on a piece of paper. Then onto the building blocks to erect his first skyscraper . Next onto the sandpit to dig a trench , followed by him catching the eye of a girl his age and chasing her around the play area ….the boy was home . Even the minder's call of "mat time" could not distract him from his individual path of discovery in this new terrain . Come the call of nature and he strode boldly into the toilet , made his wee-wee , wiped himself and was back out again .
Who are we to reign in this natural course of learning and discovery , of casual exchanges and quiet interactive play , of delightful intermingling and serendipitous invention . The child is the father of the man , and no child of mine is going to be barren of the opportunities available to father a man well rounded in the life of this world .
Go ahead , Kyle , live !!
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Wondering at what point in our lives does living the moment switch to remembering the good old days . Is it a geographical change that creates the switch or is it an emotional one like a marriage or divorce or birth or death of a loved one . Do the birth of children and a new phase of life being parents bring on memories of freedom and living like free spirits. For me it has been multiple changes . Living and growing up in Calcutta for 25 years , then my professional life when I moved to Mumbai which lasted 11 years and then marriage and moving to Auckland for the last 7 years . This has created three memory banks which has conveniently adopted the three labels of youth , work life and parenthood. Being in the nascent stages of parenthood I am currently enjoying every moment of it and even though I sometimes slip into the " the good old days " mode , when my son jumps on my shoulders and asks me to take him "horsey back" riding I am quickly switched back to the present and readily and joyfully gather more experiences for my latest memory bank.
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Methinks being a big Lotto winner suddenly brings a whole lot of responsibilities and associated anxieties along with it. The person now has all this cash they've never had before to deal with and all the decisions that need to be made on what to do with it .
The media attention , press conferences , news hounds knocking on the door , magazine columnists wanting that exclusive personal story ..the list is endless.
But the biggest headache is all the friends and relatives that come out of the woodwork claiming you were their favourite !
Unless one is an attention-junkie , the loss of one's comfortable anonymity becomes unnerving and relentlessly painful. Which is why a lot of winners never actually come out to the public . They just collect and disappear , probably carrying on with their lives as normal but judiciously putting their money in secure investments.
Maybe being a Lotto winner is really not meant for everyone and the fact that the odds are so huge makes it that much more grounding and good for the general public's mental health.
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I now have a Google Alert that pops into my email inbox everytime the words "swine flu" appear anywhere just to keep me informed on what is happening around the world with this virus. In New Zealand the number of cases have crossed a 100 and now it appears we have gone past "containment" and have reached "GO TO YOUR DOCTOR ASAP IF YOU EVEN SNEEZE". I now find my ears fine tuned to the sounds of sniffs, sneezes, coughs and throat clearing . I use our company supplied sanitized hand-rub more often than is required and everytime someone hands me something I find myself wondering how many swine flu viruses are crawling around on that object. The advertisement for Dettol spray has been instrumental in making me visualise countless bugs on every object that is accesible to public hands . Am I obsessed with swine flu …..yes I am and so should everyone one else . This is not something to be taken lightly . Let us contain and kill this thing before it has a chance to mutate into an even deadlier version of itself .
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Everytime I spot a photo of the Howrah Bridge , it evokes memories of going away on holiday . This is because we had to cross the bridge to get to Howrah Station to catch whatever train we were taking . As our taxi turned into Strand Road , the great bridge would loom into view and a surge of excitement would course through my body . Our taxi would invariably end up behind a slow moving tram and thus would commence a 15 minute journey through the 705 meter long cantilever bridge with the Hoogly river , brown and muddy flowing underneath. The huge steel girders held together by rivets as large as my palm passing by overhead generated a power and energy of its own , supporting and dutifully bearing a daily traffic volume of more than 80,000 vehicles , 1,000,000 pedestrians and large numbers of cattle and other animals . Even though it was named Rabindra Setu way back in 1965 , I doubt anyone ever called it that . It will always be known as Howrah Bridge . This engineering marvel is one of the best examples of cantilever technology of the time and even though it was built by British engineers, most of the 25,000 tonnes of steel used was of Indian origin supplied by Tata Iron and Steel. This bridge represents a gateway to the city of Calcutta and will always remain a favourite landmark of all Calcuttans .
Mario and Linute arrived on Christmas Day to Auckland . Mario hadn't seen Mum and Dad for 9 years and Linute hadn't met them at all. Needless to say there were nerves all around as they got out of the car and wished each other . Here they pose outside the house in the garden.
Mario decides he wants to learn how to make chappatis . Dad shows him the basics while Kyle looks on adding his 2 cents worth here and there.
He's attempting to master the art of kneading the dough .
"punch , roll , squeeze" was the advice given to him by a knowledgeable one !
Mario swirls Linute around the hall to celebrate his birthday on the 28th, looked on by all the uncles and aunties . He also received a few birthday bumps from the more hardy of the lot but they soon gave up with the effort.
Dinner at Dosa Plaza . Deciding on what to eat proved to be an onerous task as the menu listed 104 types of dosas , uttapas , chinese dosas etc.
Enjoying the meal !
Mario gives Kyle a bit of a gelled look which Kyle is all to happy to pose for !
And glad to sit on his Godfather's lap .
On 31st night at the Waterfront Cafe for dinner along with....
Mum and Dad...
and the host family enjoying a sumptuous meal and having a great time .
