Dear Daughter ....

If you grow up to be an actor or a stage performer, you could tell everyone this gruffalo line was your first ever line on stage! "That was yesterday, when I was a baby! " is how I imagine you would narrate it, for that's how you say it now. For you,  anytime in the past is yesterday, every past age / stage is "baby''. Going back to your performance, when I say that was your first line on a stage, In the spirit of full disclosure, it wasn't a real stage. Your play school had arranged for what could best be described as a makeshift stage by hanging a few sheets in a hall and decorating it with Christmas tinsel and assorted decorations. Also, when I say your first line, I meant it was the only line you had. And just so I'm totally honest, these were not really the first words you actually uttered on stage. Those first words are yet to come. On this occasion although you were dressed like a mouse, you were more like a deer caugh...

This is a clip of us having fun while holidaying in Majorca, Spain. It was one of the best holidays ever, full of  'not doing anything' moments. Lying down and just chilling on the beach, waddling and playing in the swimming pool,  lazing around like the happy people on the cover of glossy magazines. Or those happy  families at the happy endings of movies. However, at three years and a bit, you went ballistic at the mere mention of venturing near the Sea. Not happy ballistic but scared ballistic! You refused, or rather, revolted at the idea of getting anywhere close to where the gentle waves might slosh on your feet. On one hand, the parent in me still draws an assurance from your particularly safe approach. On the other hand the sans-sea-experience child in me cries out for you to step forth, splash away and never miss a chance to mingle with the mighty sea. On the last day of our holiday, after all gentle cajoling, bribes and promises had failed, ...

It's been a busy summer. The months seem to be running into each other, as if in a hurry to see you blossom into a big girl. But you aren't waiting for any of that. You have already decided that "I'm not a little girl, I'm a big girl". So that's our little hook to lure you into the things that us grown ups want you to do but you wouldn't give in to other wise. That's how our little-big girl agrees to take her daily shower, brush her teeth, drink milk out of a cup etc. You are already grown up enough to  disagree more often with us. We've started having these bouts of disagreement- starting with you being stubborn, crying and making up. At times you go all guns blazing - wailing out loud, lower lip inverted, water works - the full theatrics version. But since there isn't really a basis to it besides you trying your tiny hand with emotional blackmail, pretty soon it dries up into just an oooo-ing and aaaaa-ing sound effect and some facia...

"Dad now you run and I will jump" That is one of the fun games we play on the trampoline. You would rather jump alone than with me because when I jump you loose balance and fall. Since I was home for a good few days, we spent a lot of time together. Early in the morning first and then later when you are back from pre-school. Along the way, as always, we have developed our own fun routines - reading books, jumping on the trampoline, sitting on the trampoline and having ice creams or ice lollies. While we play, it is interesting to see some traits that you have developed to bring out your personality. For one, you are quite cautious, cowardly even. I for one am glad for that. For me, that means you do not engage in unnecessary adventures like playing with fire or sharp objects or bouncing on a bouncy castle when there are too many kids already on it. That by no means is to say you are timid or a pushover. I could see you standing your own ground with your friends and shining in...

You saw me with shaving lather all over my face and started giggling. In a few minutes when I had shaved most of it, you saw me again and were a bit confused as to where all the foam had gone. "How does that work!?" you part commented and part asked. A phrase, I thought, as tall and meaning laden as your whole almost-three-year-old self! Most of these evenings your mom puts you to bed, reading you stories. Sometimes, you would ask her to call me on my phone downstairs to get milk for you. You would softly whisper the bare minimum of words - "Dad ! Milk!" Your mom and I would secretly agree amongst the two of us if you do need the milk right then or if it should wait for some more time. I could then take your bottle of milk with me later on and push it in your hands for you to have it in your sleep. It happened again today - your mom called and you asked for the bottle. As always, I asked you to close your eyes and wait for me. I didn't ...

One of the things we do as a family is look at all our pictures. Just a random slide show, of all the pictures playing on the family TV when  nothing More interesting is on. It's a big and ever growing collection of pictures - right from our wedding to any taken in the recent past. I have also been meaning to get the older printed ones scanned and available for this collection.  You recognise some faces, some events - of course from the time you've been with us. Surprisingly, you can also guess about some of our pictures that are way older than you are - from a time that seems like a life before last. One  fact is, we might already have a bigger collection of pictures with you in our lives than those without. To a large extent, this is purely because its much easier now to be able to capture happier moments on a reproducible medium than it ever before was. Our parents and us mostly relied on ...

That's how you ask for things  now a days- "can I want to have  cheese?" "Can I want to have berries? '' Most of the times it is accompanied  by a respectful tone of pleading  or request.  That is how you have, although unintentionally, learnt the art of merging  a demand and a request. Like a  skilful diplomat.  You watch quite a variety of  programmes on TV now. Along  with those come the advertisements  full of happy smiling kids and happy  smiling parents selling delightful,  colourful toys. For quite a few  of them you start with an almost  hypnotised tone of "I want that  one''. Even while getting ready  you seem to have formed your  opinions about what you want to  wear and how you want your  hair done. Or not. You have definitely begun  to assert yourself. And you  are not even three yet! Dean daughter, 'Want' or ' Desire' is all what life...

Last weekend 26-28th February 2016 was one of the best ones we've had for a while. Although there wasn't anything special as such but the little time we spent together having fun in the little things made it really special. Anvi was there on Friday and the two of you had the usual routine of playing-fighting-playing. No making up and awkward silences in between. I guess that is  what the world would be for friends if we didn't carry our ego with us all the time. You had your ballet class Saturday morning . For most of your classes so far you have been clinging to your mom. Not paying attention to the teacher, not caring much about what other kids were doing in ballet but paying every attention to any girl who was fooling around. You still were having fun but just not with ballet. On this particular day, your mom decided to not go inside the class at the last moment, without telling you of course. This seemed to work very well. You were in the class with your spirit...

I still cherish the time we spend together while on our way to nursery. We sing songs - nursery rhymes or hindi movie songs (Your favorite now a days is 'Tooney maari entriyaan' for the catchy 'tan tan tan' in it)  We look at traffic lights and their colors, cars and lorries  and play some games about them.  The game that works most often is spotting cars of different colours. You like spotting the police or ambulance cars - commonly referred to as nee-noo cars in your current age group. I have a red honda and that makes all red cars special for you. "I'm going to the nursery in a red car. Oh! Look! There's a red car! And there's 'anoner' (another) red car! " - you would often exclaim in that sing song British manner of yours.  One of these odd sunny winter days, while waiting for the red traffic light to go green and switch to 'go-go-go' mode you saw some fluffy clouds flying past in their swift and gentle c...

"Dad, what’s that noise?" "It’s the door creaking" "Dad, what’s that noise" "It’s the doorbell." "Dad, what’s that noise?" "It’s the bin collector."   “Dad, what’s that noise?” – That will be amongst my prominent memories from your trip to India when you were two and a half years. This was your third trip to my motherland but your first with a decent enough cognisance to notice the noise and wonder about it. I don't think though you would even remember the question or the various seemingly weird answers to be better prepared on your next visit to India. "Dad what’s that noise?" "It’s the drums. Someone is about to get married later today. " "Dad, what’s that noise?" "That’s the TV. They are ‘discussing’ a political issue live. " "Dad, what’s that noise?" "Someone is honking the horn in their car. That’s how they drive here as everyone has th...