Today we learnt some valuable lessons. Me and Winkie.
I learnt that as a mother, try as I might to detach myself from the display of overt emotions, I still feel them inside, which is perhaps why I struggle not to have to display it. That as a mother, I always wish for my sons to shine, and that I take a very personal pride in it. Even if I tend to play it down for the sake of company, or for the sake of myself.
There was an episode today, a wonderful, humbling, feeling, teaching, quieting episode where Winkie had the opportunity to take part in a competition. Where he did very well and made me very proud, of his poise and his quiet and sensible strength, but where he did not win a prize at the end. Its funny how the 1and 2 , become such important numbers we need the ownership of to have a feeling of validation in this world. That we....and our children...have worth and merit that can be proved to the rest of the world.
Its disquieting how much I seemed to have invested in that moment, which spelled the attaching of his name to either of those 2 numbers. How I held my breath, without even seeming to have held it. How much I wanted it for him, even when I convinced myself not to.
How words really come a poor second to that feeling of disappointment that a young boy feels in his heart, that acute pain when the prize slips away. Yes, he knows he did well. Yes, he is happy for his friend who made it 1st. Yes, he knows how proud his mom is of him. But he did not get the cup did he? And that hurts. Simple. It hurts.
It hurts.
But more than the feeling of that actual hurt, it hurts me more to know that I am still so easily culpable to this hurt. Not because I pride myself in having come such a long way in terms of personal development, but because swings of emotion are so scary sometimes. I am very afraid of feeling anything to a depth or intensity. It seems so much more safer to feel with a dull and fuzzy sense, than to have that emotion tweaked and amplified to this sharp, piercing thing, that just stares you straight in the face, leaving you no place to hide from it. This just goes to show the false sense of bravado I carry around me most of the time, just so I can feel that I have a firm foothold in my own life. So I must be honest and come clean so I can come free.
I am sad he didn't win the 1st prize. Or the 2nd. He did so darn well. But oh, the children who did, were great too. And they had that little extra something that earned them that spot. I am so appreciative of that, as much as I am disappointed that we could not have that extra something too. I am afraid to identify so deeply with my son's feelings. But it happens so easily, so naturally, that in the process I am afraid to pass on too many of my own to him. I want his world to be simple. His thoughts even more so. I am afraid of not feeling true happiness for the other children who won. None of that mattered if my son didn't. I am disappointed in myself that I still haven't managed to shrug it off, that I am still holding on to it.
But all is not bleak. There are things for which I am glad too. I am glad, we did it. Just so we could be exposed to this kind of thing. Especially for Winkie. Without even knowing for sure, I know that this is one incident in his life will have made its mark on him....transformed some tiny, significant part of him. His tears, one full hour after everything, and after we came home is evidence of that. He held himself strong until then. I believe he expected his name to be called out, and was surprised when it wasn't, because he had felt very happy with the way he had done. He had the generosity and courage to wish his friend in more than a few words... you did a very good job. Congratulations!....he managed to say. He was quiet and contained all the way back home in the car, as we discussed why the prizes went to the other children and not him. But the minute we got home, the emotion was too much to hold in his little heart, and it spilled over. Big, wracking sobs, as I squeezed him tight. And then, right there, was the pure simple joy, that my son was having an acute experience with life, right in front of my very eyes. What a privilege it was to witness it. This is the stuff that life is made up of, isn't it. These piercing moments of direct experience that shake you up from your otherwise slumber. And Winkie whose emotions are usually hard to read, was expressing and emoting so beautifully, so directly....I was happy, even as I was sad.
After the tears were wiped, and the coolness washed over, we all took a walk, in the snow to the Dunkin's on the opposite side of the road. And sipped hot coffee, and bit into warm hash browns, and enjoyed some moments as a family. He has been all smiles since then, the moment having passed. And as I helped him brush his teeth, I came clean with him too.... I am sad Winkie, that you did not win. And right then, again, was the acute delight of seeing a role reversed...of emotions swapped. I pouted sadly, while he smiled wisely, nodded sagely and said.... yeah...I know. And that's when it just became very very....very very...clear. And I told him.
That as his mother, I would be telling him many many things all the time. Lots of advice and words and directives. And he may forget as many of them as I try to pass on. But if he could just remember one thing.... one single, simple thing, please. That whatever you do, do it in such a way that you can be happy with yourself. Just like how he felt today. How happy he was saying it because he knew he had given it his best. That precious feeling was the prize of it all . The one that nobody can award, and nobody can take. The one which lies in your safe keeping...
Yes.....I will.....he said.
Some months ago, Winkie lost his only, and most cherished, 7th birthday gifted watch in school. It was a Titan Zoop, with a cool basketball logo on the sides. He loved it, and I have to say it looked sporty and smashing on his wrist. That is until he lost it. This is what roughly happened from his account of things. It was a sweaty recess, and when he came back to class, he decided to take off the watch to cool off, and laid it on his desk. It was reading time, and one of his friends asked to see it. He handed it over, and it was also returned to him. Of that much he clearly recalls. And then he left his desk to go find a book or whatever and when he came back, it was gone. He looked everywhere, in his bag, under his desk, on the floor, and even made the whole class look, but no one could find it. And it was declared lost.
Now yes, the mind does tend to speculate on it, and think....what if somebody took it, and just didn't own up. It was a big possibility, and one that he kept insisting upon, but we were at a dead end.
When he came home with the news, on the one hand, I was pretty upset about it. We loved that watch, and it was a specially selected gift from his Chitthi for his 7th birthday and he could have worn it forever, I think. And he was so careful with it too. He was very very crushed and could barely get through that evening. On the other hand, there was a small part of me that was very secretly delighted. Its hard to explain why that was the exact emotion I felt, but there it was.
And to explain my delight, I have to digress a bit and tell you another story. One that happened close to 3 years ago. Remember that very exciting India trip, where my passport expired and I got left behind, only to have it stamped the next day and fly out on my own? Well, on that very same trip, I lost 80% of my wedding jewels to the back seat of an autorickshaw. And after the first freezing 2 minutes of shock at the implication, that same secret sense of delight was there. Looking back, it was definitely a weird emotion to have, but it was one of the most defining moments of my life. Because I got a sense of how far I had come.
You know how sometimes when something happens and right then and there, you get a faint whiff of the game and play of it all, and the whispers only grow louder, as you hear life giggling gleefully in the background, having just handed you a nice big blow, just to see what you will do with it. And the whole thing has a manner of such play and sport that you can't help but feel the glee yourself, and a sportive sense of challenge rises, and you feel like you have to pass this test. By God, you have to pass this test!
That is exactly what my delight back then was about. And in a small way, it is what it was about even with the watch. Back then, I had on my most graceful manner, and couldn't find it within the heart of me to rue what I had lost, 'cause that would mean failing that test in front of the biggest witness there was, is and always will be. The sense of that loss came weeks and months and years later, at different instances, when I couldn't dig in to my box of jewels anymore to find just the right thing to wear.
So when Winkie came home with the loss of his favorite watch, I knew he was being handed a similar test and the delight was over having seen through the whole charade of life. Aha! Caught you again!...I felt. Watch us ace this test now!
We talked about it and he decided he would go back the next day and search even harder, and if he couldn't find it, that was that. He would have to accept it gracefully. But till then, there was still some hope and he could pray as hard as possible, and send his fervent pleas out to the Universe. But going down the road of pointing a finger at someone, was a certain dead-end, because there was no way to prove it, and even if there was, was it the right one to take? It was a point of confusion, but one we didn't have to cross because he never found it the next day.
The sadness lingered over many days and he would look at a picture of his watch on the internet a few times, for that was the only keepsake left at this point. And he got another watch, with bowling pins on it, a much cheaper but just as cute one, when I went to the gem show some weeks ago. And he takes just as much of a pride and joy in it as he did in the one with the baskbetball logos.
So the lost Zoop taught us some valuable lessons I think. That life happens. And it can get very upsetting. That being attached to something, while giving that simple pleasure of ownership and familiarity, can also cause acute pangs of loss, when gone. That even when all seems lost, it is still okay to have hope and beam your prayer out to the Universe and cherish the possibility that you can find it again. That when you don't, it doesn't mean that that hope was misplaced, only that it carried it with it to someplace else. That parting was inevitable, but sweet things can come by, to take up the place that was left empty. That life goes on...
...so says a soon to be 5 year old, in answer to a question he himself asks me. And the question...
Amma, do you know why I love you so much?
This while being perched on my hips, in one of those moments where you can't get enough of cuddling your littlest one. The question by itself was a statement, which by itself gave me immense joy to hear. So is it any wonder that I held my breath while waiting for him to reply?
Because I am full of love.
Something about those choice of words is a miracle. Something about the exact order of stringing them is supremely beautiful. And true. He IS full of love. And always has been. And the manners in which he expresses that love is what makes our days and nights with him such a memory. The kind of memory which you will not remember in particulars, but as a vapour of feeling, always swirling around you. Its hard to remember the finite details, because being with him means being in the moment. And that's why writing about him has always been so hard. How do you pin words to define a moment that was exquisitely lived and experienced, when it is already past? You don't. You just enjoy it, and carry that swirling vapour of memory with you.
He has this peculiar thing with his father. At night and many times during the day, he needs the comfort of rubbing his father's cheeks, just to feel the pots, read 'spots' for the stubble. It has this very reassuring effect on him, and almost feels like a sweet massage. I have tried to have this shifted to me no end, but he argues that since I have no pots, I don't get the pleasure. But he will still cuddle up to me in other ways. And any way is a bliss when it comes to him.
He will be the first one to rush to the scene when one of us has incurred a boo-boo and he will enquire even days afterwards about the state and the healing of it. He will remember when we ourselves have forgotten, and it becomes easy to feign some lingering hurt over it, just to feel the waves of his concern.
 After a long Christmas break and on the first day back at school, in answer to the question... what did you do over the holidays?...he will be the one to tell his teacher, I had a lot of fun, but in the middle of it, I remembered school and I missed you Uma Aunty. And she will laugh heartily at all the words, because she known only too well his tendency to sweeten and use them well, but she can't help but feel the happiness of that effort made on his part. And when she narrates it to me, her enjoyment of the whole charade is obvious.
He is the one that likes to copy his brother in whatever he does, and even in the words he speaks sometimes, but when there comes an opportunity to put pen to paper and scribble a few words, this is what he chooses to write. As his first complete sentence. There is a grammar issue, and a missing period at the end, but the meaning is far from lost.
And the words he spoke to me, in answer to the question that he himself asked, are already a full and complete sentence, with a beginning and an end, and everything in the middle is love.
I grew up reading Tintin comics. I think my Dad owned quite a few titles and it would be kept safely locked inside his little book cabinet, alongwith a worn copy of Kane & Abel. And on many quiet afternoons, I would extract them and read them, over and over again, till I knew every single dialogue and every single twist in the plot.
Interestingly enough that is one of the few books I share in common with R, who is not too much of a reader otherwise. So, when Tintin was going to hit the big screen, there was no way we were going to miss it. We were excited to watch it and also see how the boys would take to it, especially Winkie. And he gave us a thumbs up at the end of the show and that very week, I got home some of the comics for him to read, starting with The Castafiore Emerald.
 He was never much of a graphics novel type of guy uptil this point, so I read out a few strips and pages to him, getting him into the nuances of each character, and how to tell the difference between a word bubble and a thought bubble. And all the crazy things that Capt. Haddock usually says and how a glass breaks everytime Bianca sang. And with just those few introductory notes, he was raring to go on his own. And there's been no turning back since. Now, he can share quite a few observations with me. Like how Snowy, the dog, also talks and how he mirrors the same expressions as on Tintin's face.
The fever is so blazing that he renamed his Mii Tintin today. And plans to take it the extra mile, by making Thambi Snowy, R as Haddock, and me as....( a no brainer!)....Bianca. Now I better practice all my high notes.
Needless to say, I am quite thrilled that he loves what I once loved, and this will be something that joins us together, always!
I start this post, with no real thoughts, but only a vague urge that I need to write something. Something about 2012 and being at the crossover point, demands it. So in no particular order....
1. The thing I have learnt the most this year, is that it is okay to be myself. Even if all I am feeling is quiet, distanced and lost to my own world, its okay to be like that. People will eventually get used to it. Its okay to cut those ties of expectations that bind you to them, and be free on both sides. For maybe then, a more real relationship can blossom.
2. Children like to be liked. They like to be looked at. They like to be heard. They like an answer to their questions. And the more patient a reply, the better.
3. That when you really like them, and look at them, and hear them, and answer them, you get a very rare, precious look inside to their soul and what makes them tick. It is information you can use to soften all the edges of your own heart, when it hardens in rage and frustration.
4. The fewer words you use, and the lesser explaining you do in a conversation, the better it is. It shows that you come from a place of confidence, where not everything has to be justified and explained and understood with a perspective.
5. Whatever I see, whatever I label outside, is but a reflection of what already lies within me. And no wonder I was able to recognize it and label it in the first place. How can I not, when I have such an intimate knowledge of it?
6. That art is a therapy that belies understanding. And that a family that paints together, can actually make it....as a family.
7. That Thambi is a man inside a boy, and a baby at the end of the day. He talks beyond his years sometimes, with such a clarified understanding of things. He advises me no end, and especially when I play Wii tennis, but when its time for bed, he still needs a warm adult body next to him. I must learn to enjoy that more this year.
8. That Winkie, holds everything tightly within. That he doesn't use his freedom of expression that very much. That he could, more. But in all that quietness, there is such a wealth of restraint in him, with regard to things of this world. He can handle himself with such grace and poise in a crowd, that oftentimes, he gets lost in it. He loves a sense of conformity to things....and any deviance from that is what frustrates him. Now we all know what life will do with that! :)
9. That I still love my coffee in the morning. I have tried different ways to let go, to stop, to cut the bonds. But it will not have it. I am tied to my one cup. And its time I made peace.
10. That New Years' is not a time for resolutions. If there is true resolve, change can happen anytime, anywhere, and even within your heart. And everyday is a testimony to that. So where does that leave New Years then? Its just that time of the year, when you actually feel the length of the life you have lived and wonder in amazement at how fast it all went. Now that is customary!
Wish you ALL a more acute sense of living this coming year. May the transformations happen daily, without the fanfare, but with all sense of fulfilment.
P.S. - # 11 : That you can add any picture and find a symbolism for it, especially when you don't have anything else to show. Such as this one of a sunflower from my summer deck garden. Sunflowers are special in the way they always grow towards the sun. If there is a need for any resolution, then let it be this for me. To always grow towards the light...
|
|
Posts
