The Grand Life of Munias

The summer vacations in May-June were always my favorite as I got to spend the entire two months at my grandparents’ house (Palace in my daughters’ lingo) in Kerala.

Thank God that neither the World Wide Web nor WhatsApp nor Email were launched back then. I didn’t have my head tied to a phone, tablet, or laptop all day long and doing homework that did no good to anyone I have ever known. We lived and breathed freely in independent India and learned all about real life without the pressure of having to excel always and outshine everyone else.

Day time meant roaming around the house all alone, collecting all things possible. Or walking hand in hand with the elders of the house visiting the local Shiva temple, the one or two little grocery shops known as ‘Chaaya Peedika’ or walking the long stretches of the paddy fields and supervising the workers. A Devaki, Kaali or Shankaran would ask me if I was enjoying my time at my grandparents and what they were treating me with.

Even the humble telephone and electricity had not reached the quaint little village of Cherukattupulam till about early 90s. Life was peaceful. No fear of missing out on what’s happening with the Kardashians or why one hasn’t yet seen Virat and Anushka’s duaghter. No FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) at all.

If you ask me, the brain was a cleaner space. There was no clutter and ample time to grow and develop natural creativity.

The lonely walks in the backyard, meeting all forms of life from a millipede to the King Cobra, I am one lucky little remenant of an era you missed living through.

Remember the lesson ‘Apna Kaam Swayam Karo’ from the Hindi NCERT text of Class 3? My fascination around birds and their lives started from there.

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I bought a feeder a few years back. Experimented with various seeds. No bird came. Not a single one. The pigeons couldn’t manage staying on the tiny feeder. The Mynas preferred hunting worms to having free lunches. The parrots only cared about a  Guava or some peas or sunflower seeds.

Then, I found the fox millet. I refilles the feeder with it. Patience was the key. Two three weeks down the road and there was one tiny little bird that chirped more than it ate. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. And then I lost count. Mrs. and Mr. Munia had arrived with their flock. Few weeks, and they had literally accepted the space as.theirs. My constant companion while spreading the clothes on the terrace.

I started keeping a small bowl with the seeds at the Window of Hope. Soon, the Munias flocked there.

Munias feasting on Millets

Her nest is the cleanest, happiest, and most peaceful place I have ever seen. Her family seems like one big fat celebration every day.

She visits my window often to check if I have refilled the feeder with fresh fox millets. Then she spreads the word and the Chachas, Taus, Buas, Mamas, Maasis and ‘woh door ke rishte waale’ Nanaji, Phufaji and possibly her entire neighbourhood ever flocks together to the feeder and celebrates.

I observe them enviously as Mr.Munia and Mrs. Munia kept a watch, and their entire Tabbar feasted on the seeds. Why?

If I die today, I don’t think there will be many people to attend the funeral or to support my mourning family. Leave death. If I announce a gathering right now, there will be countable people who will attend and half of whom would be doing it just to gather information on my life or to find fault with the hospitality. And look at Mrs. and Mr. Munia. They had such a happening family. An entire neighborhood. Such a strong support system.

Mrs. Munia looks through the window pane and sighs. What a lavish house this woman has and what a grand life she is living. No fear of an enemy attacking from unannounced corners. No fear of running out of food for the family. Such a splendid life, she wonders.

I sigh back. Such a rich lady with such a magnanimous family.

Hello World!

Reminds me of the first computer program we were made to write in the ancient language PASCAL that wannabe computer geeks like me started off with. It feels so funny at how excited we were to see that ‘Hello World!‘ as it flashed on the screen while we ran the program.

It’s been quite a while that I sat down to write something. And I had been wanting to come back to this space for a while now. I have understood that for free spirits like me rules don’t work. I was doing absolutely fine till I was on my own. And then I started aspiring to be like him and her of the online world. That’s when I lost the real me. It all started feeling like a whirlpool were in one is sucked into a whole new chaotic world of competition. I burnt my hands and took my time to heal.

I promised myself to not get into that mode of challenges and competitions. I can’t. I simply can’t. I love to be myself. I just don’t want to be like anyone else. I owe it to myself to be me. We all do. While it’s absolutely necessary to aspire something, I believe it is important to realize the break-even points. So now, you’ll see more of me here but not in any regular pattern. I’ll be here only when I feel like. Only when I have something really meaningful to share.

I spent the time I took a break from here doing what I love most. In my terrace garden. Spending time tending to my favorite living beings, plants. The greenery on the terrace and the warmth from the plants gave me company like never before. I worked real hard re-potting, pruning and fertilizing the plants. I also tried succulent propagation. All I can say is, it isn’t an easy task. Quite a few of the leaves germinated, but as the summer sun started showing its true colours lot of them just dried up leaving me heartbroken.

Succulent Seed Bed

The other thing I did was spending time with Mom. We spoke. Like never before. And when I speak with my heart, I don’t leave anything at all. I heard her speak about her time away from home at the convent school. Her fears, her apprehensions. I listened to her struggles as an unwelcome bride at her in-laws. The friends and the foes. The manipulators and the leeches. I listened to her journey as a parent, mostly a single parent. She too listened to my complaints from life, mostly my childhood. I craved for her love while she was busy disciplining me for fear of failing as a single parent. I really wish we both connected instead of disconnecting somewhere along. She repents. And I regret. But it feels so light having ‘spoken’ to each other as not mother and daughter but as friends or sisters. I wish we had done this earlier. We would have understood each other in a much better way. But glad that we did.

My portrait made by the little one.

And then I did what I have always been doing. Happily sharing the lovely little moments with the three loves of my life and learning and unlearning. The girls are dealing with a new school, new friends and lots of new changes in their life as well. In short, change has been the only constant in our lives for a while now. And we aren’t complaining.

So that was that. Life as they call it. Moving on with the tides and sailing on. Hope you guys are enjoying it as well. Good luck and best wishes.

See you soon.

 

Boundaries and Discipline

How can parents just shrug off their responsibility of disciplining  their children?

PTM  or the Parent Teacher Meeting is the one place which satisfies my hunger for people-watching. And this is one place which forces me to judge fellow parents.

No. I am not the perfect parent. I don’t claim to be one. Nor are my girls the epitome of discipline.  But I sure don’t turn a blind eye to my child’s  misbehavior like many others.

Mom being a teacher and having raised us single-handedly during the major part of our growth years, our lessons on discipline began right at home and from the moment we stepped into this world. I have constantly blamed her for strict parenting and over disciplining. But today as I look back I thank her for the way she raised us though I still argue that she could have been a little more expressive with her love. Nevertheless, we are what we are because of our parents who instilled values and discipline in our lives. And I am grateful to them for the way they shaped us.

At the PTM this Saturday, I saw all kind of parents. Just like all kinds of children. Overall the bouquet looked beautiful. But certain parts of the garden showed signs of infestation and decay.  I am someone who believes that a child’s behavior and manners reflect the atmosphere at their home. And this has been proved again and again through many of the PTMs.

There was this mother who did not even think twice before hitting her daughter in front of the entire school because she lied about not receiving the answer sheets. Lying is not something unusual for children at this age. As a mother, I admit that I have seen this behavior in my own child. And I do have reasons which are  not at all related to how her teachers were handling her.

She scored good marks, yet she would lie to me about not getting the answer sheets till the PTM day. I would be furious but I would not talk to her till the time I cooled down. It helped me understand her better. She used to lie because she was afraid of my yelling. It’s a different matter that I never scold them or yell at them for studies related matters. I was am average student and I don’t keep high expectations from the children. My duty is to provide them with resources and help them utilize these. She used to lie also to avoid talks about studies for as long as she could. Is that abnormal for a child to do?

I took time to understand her fears and then spoke to her in detail about it. It was a heart to heart chat and the child was ensured that she will not be admonished for her grades and that I would control my yelling issue. 85% improvement in my yelling issue. Still needs improvement. But I hope you noticed that the issue was not with the child or with her teachers, but with the parent, that is me. She was lying to me because she was afraid of me. Thankfully, I caught hold of the situation in time and took control.

At the school, I felt like confronting that mother. But I did not. The teacher did. The child’s face was red with fear, pain and humiliation. I saw a glimpse of my past on her face. Mom used to get instantly notified about the mistakes I did in each paper and the questions I did not attempt in each paper. She had whipped me with the cane stick in the school corridors till I was in ninth standard. That’s what gave birth to the rebel within me. It was so humiliating to be snapped in front of an entire school.  Repeated episodes only distanced me from her and made me indifferent to her behavior. 

There was another set of parents who kept on sitting there without an iota of shame or regret as their son, a grade six student, kept on arguing with the teachers and giving excuses for each of his mistakes. I don’t say that children should not be heard. But I don’t encourage rude and disrespectful behaviour in children. As parents it was their duty to interrupt him and ask him to be polite and respectful. What I see these days is that most parents do not respect the teachers and the same attitude is picked up by the children. It pains me when I listen to children talking disrespectfully with teachers and other elders.

In the name of freedom we are sometimes going overboard with things. A teacher or ‘guru’ must be respected irrespective of whether they are perfect or not. And every parent must give at least that much respect to the teacher to ensure that their children do not misbehave with the teacher.

There was this boy in fourth grade who keeps troubling girls by pouring water inside their school bags spoiling all their books and other items. I mentioned this to the teacher and clearly told her that she only had to counsel him not to do so. But she asked me to give a written complaint as there were many other complaints against the boy and the parents could be apprised of the situation by means of all the written complaints. I did not write one. A 9-year-old making mistakes is far better than all of us making the mistake of branding a child as ‘BAD’. Later I came to know that his mother broke down in front of the teacher. I will not go into the details of this case as I did not witness it personally. But my personal experience says that children imitate the behavior or elders and they express their views and concerns through such behavior outside the home.

There were parents who kept on complaining about each and every teacher. There are problems with some teachers who are inexperienced but there can’t be a problem with all the teachers…right? How can we expect the teacher or the school alone to imbibe values and discipline in our children? Isn’t it our duty first to instill these values in our children.

Parents are responsible for a child’s bad behavior as well as his/her discipline. Forcefully making them accept a certain behavior or rule is wrong. Give logical explanation for everything you tell them and they will understand it better. We are the role models for our children. I am sure you would have seen your children imitating you and your spouse. Mine sure imitate me a lot. They do so even with the yelling and that’s what forced me to take control of the situation by improving my behavior.

Children copy the behavior they see at home, and this can affect their discipline in schools and at other occasions. Adults have to model behavior that they want, because otherwise how does the child learn? What’s your take on this? Do you think that discipline is something that’s the responsibility of the school? Or do you take active interest in disciplining your child at home by modeling responsible behavior and setting the necessary boundaries?

By the way, I forgot to share the expansion for PTM that the girls use at home.

“Pitwayegi Teacher Mummy Se…” 😀