Fancy this.

A butterfly fairy in a silk top, pretty frock and stockings, a pair of wings that looked like anybody wearing it could actually fly and a wand that had this magical aura about it, which completed the look. It was an outfit my sister bought for my daughter for her birthday and we saved the wings and the wand for the fancy dress competition that is conducted every year as part of the Onam Celebrations at school.

My 7 yr old daughter with cheeks generously rouged, looking pretty in her outfit, went on the dais. As my hubby, parents and I waited with bated breath to see how she would perform, she walked in with an air of confidence and said with subtle hand gestures and a sweet smile to go with it…

"Hi! I am a butterfly fairy

Though I look pretty now

I was once just an ugly wriggly caterpillar

But don’t you know that each one of us is beautiful from within?

Here’s my magic wand

May each one of you shed your cocoons

And become beautiful butterflies!

Bye…"


We heaved a sigh of relief. It had gone well. There were quite a few kids who turned up for the competition dressed up as a bishop, nun, muthashi (grandmother), Lord Krishna, gypsy, paper girl, rag picker, earth, mother India, sunflower, Michael Jackson, princess, fairy, beauty queen, Swami Vivekananda, Dora the explorer….Some of the kids forgot the dialogue they were supposed to deliver after their grand entry onto the stage.

My daughter managed to pull it off. She is otherwise reserved and shy. But loves to participate – Fancy Dress, Elocution, Light Music, Recitation…

I had prepared a lengthy speech for her Elocution competition ‘Keep Kochi Clean’. She won the third prize. Kudos to you, my girl! She learns in a jiffy and delivers without stage-fear. Something to appreciate. Perhaps she needs to focus more on voice modulation, hand gestures and the right pauses. But I guess she will improve, with time. For now, she’s good. And I’m proud of her.

My 12th Storey

My 7 year old daughter asked me the day before if I knew the meaning of Storey that is spelt s-t-o-r-e-y, I said yes. She was visibly excited (half hoping I would tell her a story) and asked me “then tell” and I said “floor of a building” and she asked “how did you know” and I said “I learnt, when I was little” and she seemed to be happy. For she had learnt it too. Now she knows that storey (also spelt 'story') is not the misspelled version of story (fable or tale), but a word that had a meaning of its own.

 

Now, she finds the view from up the 12th Storey of the 22-Storey Apartment much more beautiful than before. I think about it, makes me feel happy too. Reality is (and realty isn’t misspelled either!), it does look good from up there. The beautiful city of Cochin – unlike the concrete jungle typical of a city, has greenery all around, with villas, high-rise apartments, shopping malls, corporate buildings and other such concrete buildings harmoniously co-existing with nature.

The 12th Storey is actually our second home. We live in a 3-storey Apartment on the 2nd Storey and my folks stay in the 12th Storey of this 22 storey building, just a kilometer from our place. My daughter goes to the 12th Storey when she’s back from school. I’ve got a timetable ready for her, which needs a new look every other week (to keep her excited and inspire her to stick to the timetable at least until the newness lasts), or else it would turn into crushed paper finding its way into the bin.

Timetable goes something like this… (anticipated response in brackets)

• Take a shower, change clothes (ok, ok…)
• Drink milk, have a quick evening meal - my mom being a good cook, it is this time of the day my 7 year old girl relishes and eats the most (yum-scrum!)
• Study / do homework for 1 hour (grrrr….)
• Play with other children from the apartment – 1 hour (yipee!)
• Break – 15 min (hmmmm…)
• Study for 1 hour (oh no, not again!)
• TV for 30 min (only half hour? Not fair!)
• Keyboard Practice for 30 min (la, la, la….)
• Play at home or simply while away time till mommy arrives (yoo-hoo!)

Then mommy (that’s me) arrives to pick her up. My usual routine, I search the dabbas (containers) on the table, and gobble up the remains of mom’s special item for the day (cakes, bhajji, vada, cookies, pudding, kozhukatta, pazham-pori and her various other specialities & experiments!). I check the time. It’s late, got to go. The just 2-months-away-from-2-year old baby will be waiting in our 3-storeyed apartment.

We say bye-bye to the 12th Storey and jump into the elevator. Meet some acquaintances on the way, say hi, bye and the courtesies or small talk in between. Jump into the car and drive away.

I catch-up with my daughter on the way. She tells me the new things she has learnt. She is preparing for the elocution contest “Keep Kochi clean” which is the day after and she rehearses the speech with all the frills. I pat her on her back and we arrive at a 3-storey building.

We take the stairs up and ting-tong, the door opens to Baby (Becky) - all smiles with my t-shirt wrapped around her neck. She skips about in excitement and shows all her antics at one go, to show us what we’d missed. Transition from 12th Storey to 2nd Storey is complete.

And so goes my story…

Chipak gayi*, with sweat and all!

Have you heard of the Chipko Movement? A socio-ecological movement that practiced the Gandhian method of Satyagraha and non-violent resistance through the act of hugging trees to protect them from being felled.

It was a small village in Chamoli District, Uttarakhand. The Government had restricted huge areas of forest from being cleared, so women had to walk for long hours each day to gather firewood and fodder.

The woodcutters told the women that the forest could fetch resin, timber and therefore foreign exchange. The women retorted, “Yes we are well aware of the produce that a forest can give mankind – soil, water and pure air.” They then hugged the trees and prevented it from being felled.

It was a rather sultry day. It had rained a few days back and the humidity was growing in, but the clouds weren’t heavy or black enough to rain. My daughter had her Junior Cultural Day Program at School. She was one of those Village Women – a wood collector.

She had to be dropped at School by 6.45 am for the makeover (Saree, head scarf, junk jewellery and some yellow paint on her face). The program was to start by 9.00 am. We (parents anxious to see their daughter perform) got there with the little one in my arms, at about 9.40 am. We got to see our little village woman in the balcony where all the participants were dressed up and seated along with their teachers. I could hardly recognize her (what with the yellow paint and all!).

Speeches that never seemed to end took a while. We checked the schedule and to our horror discovered that Chipko Movement (a skit by Class II – my daughter’s class) was almost towards the end. The baby in my arms was sweating profusely, she was literally stuck to me (chipak gayi).

2 kids took us through the whole show. The kindergarten kids kicked off the cultural programs followed by Class I, Class IV, Class III. 3 hours went by. A good show I must say. We were sort of glued to our seats (kursi se chipak gaye), what with the kind of sweating in that sweltering hot weather! Baby was getting jittery. We had no option but to wait for our daughter’s turn. The other parents, whose kids were done with their performances started trickling out of the auditorium. I was afraid by the time my daughter’s turn arrived, there would be nobody but us to watch. We were counting down to the show.

However, I do think it was worth the wait. A marvelous show, with beautiful stage settings, props, SFX, BGM, Village Women - my daughter being one of them, and her doting parents (that’s us!) giving her all their attention, the Police, the Woodcutters and the works, bringing the Chipko Movement to life, and sending out a very strong message “Save our environment”. We were indeed glued to our seats (ab completely chipak gaye) with the awesome performance put up by these little boys and girls.

I was all anxious to capture it all on video, my arms were begging for mercy. And then, wiping the sweat, the makeup (that refused to come off) and finally getting back home! Phew...All is well that ends well.

FYI:
Chipak Gayi: Getting stuck / glued
Chipko Movement: Where the village women hugged trees to protect it from being felled