Skip to main content

Of lelllo, dayzur and shurzha

My days are lelllo and booo, filled with beez, peopled with kakas, bebes and kets (or miaaows, if you prefer).
And when there's durdda, it's only frightening if it's really, really, close and loud.
Else, it's to be enjoyed and soaked in.
Not just in any old, sedate manner, either.
The joy must be shouted out--to the treetops, who cares if the neighbours hear and wonder if we're losing our marbles?!

Not baby, anyway.
Being with him, is like learning to love the small things, all over again.
Who knew that an ordinary razor can transform into an endearing "dayzur" or that my old cellphone charger could become a shurzha?

His world is full of strange sights and sounds. The rain is to be loved, totally, completely; the breeze embraced--tiny face alight, eyes shining, arms and legs reaching out. Cats are to be waved at, so what if they merely stare back like obelisks? And who knew colours could speak? Yellows are so much more interesting as lelllo, blue is so much more fun as booo.

For our little fellow the world is just waiting to be discovered, to be experienced with open-hearted wonder, not weariness and cynicism.
We were all like him, weren't we, but we changed.
Did we grow up or did we simply stop living?

Comments

Chin said…
Wow again!
Both to you and the wonderful wonderful lil Ishu

Popular posts from this blog

Living in Courage

Living in courage is such a beautiful phrase, full of meaning. I know women who live like that. Every day. M, a dear friend, is one of them. She is a firecracker of a girl, pint-sized. Always dressed to kill. Wears the highest heels, favours huge, retro sunnies and rocks animal prints. And yes, she colour coordinates everything--from her eyeliner to her bracelet, her lipstick to her nail polish. M has been working since she finished college. Because one fateful holiday, her father and sister drowned in front of her eyes. They were vacationing in Goa then. M and her sister got caught in a rip tide. Their father jumped in to save them. She ended up breaking the news to her mother. Her mother, like many women who were married off pretty young, is a housewife. Her life revolved around her home, husband and children. She never ventured out on her own. Then everything she was familiar with, collapsed around her. That was nearly 13 years ago. M was a young girl then, on the cusp of w...

Morning scenes

The wind blustery Skies grey blue A light so muted Birds are quiet too We walkers go Sidestepping Couple-dancing No touching Looking or meeting Glances…Oh no!   Masks dangling From chins Below noses Hanging from one ear Or sometimes Fitting so properly Covering everything So no one can see Or know What we’re really like.   Runners running Soundlessly Iron determination Seeping through So much so   That dogs being walked Know they cannot Wag tails Or even Bark a greeting.   Two men Creating content One breaking into Hair flipping, body popping Dance Faithful friend filming In fits and starts As a security guard Sips his chai Utterly bemused.

Cockroach eggs and innocence

Baby ate a cockroach egg last night. At least, he tried to. C noticed and got it out. But the lil' one must have gotten a taste. Yuck, ewww! Really and truly. But then, I got thinking. He ate it because he didn't know he wasn't supposed to. He doesn't know what bad is. Or evil. Or lies. Or hate. He doesn't know, what it is, you see, to be all grown-up and knowing what is right and wrong. And who is good and bad. That's why, when he sees a white-haired gentleman, he says "Ajja". How can I tell him then, that I'm afraid not all "Ajjas" are safe to be around. That in our adultness, we've lost the capacity to trust infinitely and innocently. That we can't really, because we've corrupted ourselves too much. That's why, even if I whack him and shout at him in my pettiness, he'll screw up his face and bawl his heart out. And then hold his arms out to me. And that's when I feel miserably small and just like tha...