Countdown for Holi 2014 has begun for me and Aryan!!!

Holi is one helluvafestival that Aryan enjoys to the hilt - of course, apart from Christmas. It's one festival where he gets to brandish his gun and fire at his friends at the same time. Rest of the days, he  stays satisfied playing alone; sometimes holding his black gun and staring at the ceiling or the TV absentmindedly.

Regardless, he was on an unstoppable firing spree on Holi day, which was thankfully a holiday for him. Covered in a splash of colours, he's was the cynosure of all eyes - or should I say, I had my eyes only for him? His chubby cheeks, dimple chin simply made me swoon over him, helplessly.  

With his semester exams round the corner, the festival came as a real stress buster. He wanted me to join him, but, I was too lazy too play along.

Aryan brandishing his blue water gun & threatening his friends

Surrounded by society uncles

All excited and running around

"Come on, mummy, be a sport," Aryan requested, pleaded, and begged. But his mother turned deaf ears. This disappointed him a little.

Yes, I go a little over the edge when it comes to colors. Even the sight of those ghastly colours gives me goose bumps, let alone the idea of having them all over my body.

I was happy to see him play from the sidelines.

He and his grandfather had the time of their lives drenching themselves in water colours.

For me 2013 Holi went away without a trace. Hope, 2014 Holi comes soon. Why? Because, I've promised Aryan that'll play, alongside him. I've promised to share his excitement from now on, because I know down the years he'll have his own gang of friends to hang around, and he won't need me anymore.

Sharing a fun moment with his grandpa

Better late than never.  Yes! The countdown for Holi 2014 has begun for me. 

Hitler Mom!

Recently, I was pillion riding my son to school. Just half-way through, he blurted out, "Mummy, you are Hitler." I was too stunned to respond. Kept quite for sometime and let that accusation sink in.

Aryan is just seven. Maybe he had heard of Hitler on National Geography channel. Maybe he simply blurted out with no rhyme or reason. Maybe he's heard me, call my father Hitler. Where did get this name from? I wondered.

Of course, there's was no question of dropping this matter.

Without taxing my brain any further I decided to question him. "What makes you call me Hitler?" I asked Aryan. 

Hesitation. Obviously, Aryan was absolutely clueless. In other words, "he didn't have answer." He had simply blurted out, but with good reason. Reasons, I was very well aware of. Yes, It was no big deal, piecing this puzzle together; but regardless, his spontaneous blame had hit the right spot on my heart. Aryan may have zero or little knowledge of the Fuehrer, but he knows his mother in and out.

I figure, somewhere in his subconscious level he had started forming negative notions about his mother.

Notions that stem from my constant nagging and bickering. 

Aryan's ruthless mother losing steam!

"Aryan, did you complete your homework?" "Aryan, why haven't finished your classwork?" "Aryan, why can't you write legibly?" "Aryan, why don't you pay attention in the class?" "Aryan, eat less, you're gaining weight?" Aryan, stop watching TV".  The list goes on and on, followed by a chain of slaps and shouts. 

If I was in Norway, I realize i would have been put behind bars for putting my child under so much of pressure.

After those grueling study sessions with my son, I always feel like chopping my hands off. But does that matter now?  Isn't the damage already done?

There is no shortcut to success, they say. Blood, sweat, tears, time, and heart are the recipes for success. So, without wanting, I make Aryan follow his study schedule, strictly. Any detour, and he gets his dose.

But is aggression only way to make your child do what he is supposed to do?

I've promised him that I won't hit him. Then, there is another slap. And he reminds me, I've broken my promise, once again.   

Oh! Lord help me. Help me not to raise my hand on my innocent son, once again.

"When a child hits a child, we call it aggression. When a child hits an adult, we call it hostility. When an adult hits an adult, we call it assault. When an adult hits a child, we call it discipline." — Haim G. Ginot

Cute little Aryan

I just wish I had two of him

I have a cute little son who means the world to me. He fills my days and nights, and every breath I take. Thank you Jesus, thank you so much for this beautiful gift. I just wish I had two of him. So much more to love and care for.

A Lesson in Lies!

Aryan's toothless grin

The other day, Aryan lost his Maths classwork. Naturally, i panicked. His exams were approaching and his teacher might have given him important notes to learn. As always, i was at the school next day, and fortunately bumped into his class teacher right at the school gate. I shared my grievance with her. Thankfully, Kinjal Ma'am promised to help me find the book.

When I dashed home from the office (I always to do that, always in a hurry to reach home), the first thing I asked Aryan was did he find the book. With a sweet, toothless grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes he waved the notebook at me. I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God, I said.

On flipping through the pages of the book I realized that this was not his book. It was of some other kid or probably an ex-student's book. More than anything, the writing was pretty good and clear. Aryan scribbles, he doesn't write.

 I told Aryan, "Beta, this book is not yours" .

 "Oh! I told the teacher this is my book. Now what to do? You just copy all the relevant stuff and I'll give the book back," said cute, little Aryan, his face brimming with innocence .

"Who's going to copy all this?" I screamed. "There is so much to write and I don't have time, you know that. Keep this book. In case the teacher gets a wind of it and asks for the book, we'll return it," I added without a second thought.

Whoops!!!The matter was taken care of, I thought.

But on the dinner table, these were 7-year-old Aryan's innocent observations: " I never knew telling lies had its merits and I am repeatedly told not to lie. Why so?" All eyes were on Aryan. Mine, my husband and my in-laws. He's was sitting right at the center of the dining table with a questionable look in his eyes. I tried to explain...but does that matter now? The damage was already done.

Tweaking moral values to suit life situations...Ah...life...life!!!

The Testament

Title: TheTestament
Author: John Grisham 
Pages:553
Source: Personal
Last Word - Refreshing spiritual dose

I find Grisham's novels very spiritual, echoing the very popular Christian philosophy of life, "For what does a man profit, if he should gain the whole world and suffer the loss of his soul?"

For many of us, like the Phelan heirs, money is the be-all and end-all. Our success is measured in terms of money. But not for Rachel lane, also a Phelan heir, an illegitimate one though. For her money is meant for the betterment of others. Rachel nonchalance toward money and her missionary lifestyle touches your soul instantly.

Eccentric Troy Phelan is a billionaire. He has several companies spread all over the world. But today, he is contemplating suicide. All his wealth could not win him true love - though he married thrice and fathered six children, all legitimate ones. On hindsight, he himself and all his children are leaving wayward lives. Though he disbursed millions to them on their 21st birthdays, none could make a living out of it. All thanks to their father, who never taught them how to live and make a living. He was always lost in growing his business and sexy secretaries. Fidelity was not a virtue known to Troy. Who's to be blamed, if the children go wayward and spend all their money without a fleeting thought to future. The money or their upbringing? Given that his children would plunder wealth at a breakneck speed, Troy before committing suicide runs a roughshod over his children - writes the eleven-billion-dollar will in favor of Rachel Lane. That's where the story begins.

Yes, you have to plow on for a few pages, before the story catches speed. The will literally jerks the rug from under Phelan heirs feet. They are up in arms against Josh Stafford, Troy's lawyer not. Stafford on the other hand, sends the now drunkard, now sober lawyer Nate O'Riley to find Rachel, who's has hidden herself from the world, in an unknown Brazilian jungle. Rachel knows of her lineage, but not about the will. Nate O'Riley, while fighting his own demons, makes his way to deep Brazilian jungles to find Rachel. Nate fights himself to stay sober; fights bad whether conditions; fights his fear of alligators, anacondas and mosquito bites, to find Rachel. Though he eventually finds her, he is unsuccessful in his attempt to make her sign the will. She makes her feeling very loud and clear ," I don't know the man, I don't know the money."

Nate falls for Rachel and even expresses his feeling for her before leaving the jungle. What happens to Nate? What happens to the Rachel? What happens to the eleven-billion-dollar fortune? Nate and Rachel both become bedridden because of Dengue. From here story develops an interesting pace. Naturally, you don't want to put the book down. What happens next? Rachel finally writes her own will and decides to use to money to serve the tribes. In fact, she decides to build a trust and makes Nate, her dear friend, its sole administrator.