Chez Moi

So P got his first ever certificate yesterday. He has been attending Kumon maths for the past couple of months. His dad and I were surprised when the teacher told us couple of weeks back that P would be taking his current level test. A test? After just 7 weeks? Oh well, we thought, nice experience.

Imagine our pride when he aced the test! Woo-hoo! So yesterday, he got his ‘Achievement Certificate’ and got his picture taken with it. It was hilarious watching him play to the camera. Now that he is comfortable with this, we decided to sign him up for Kumon English too.

He had the assessment to get over with first, to see where he was at. And my son is such a card, I tell you! A girl, she must be in her A levels or something, was throwing words at him and he had to spell them. Another friend of hers was sitting at the same table, watching him. Every time she gave him a word, P’s instantaneous reaction would be ‘oh that? That is too easy!’

After the third such comment, the girls picked up the refrain and chanted along with him ‘oh it is too easy, innit?’

Anyways, the teacher came and told us he did well and they were ever so pleased with the way he is going. We were both well chuffed, understandably.

I know there have been discussions going on in various mommy bloggers’ websites about the suitability of extra coaching for children and how soon is too soon etc. When I first heard of Kumon, P was in his Foundation class and was 4 and 1/2 and we both deemed him too young for such extra coaching and decided to leave him be. He loves his school and though is a bit of a chatterbox, he still does really well. When we decided to move back to India at the completion of his Infant’s school, we decided that we needed some extra help and enrolled him with Kumon. He also goes for weekly swimming and random football and kickboxing lessons so it is not all work and no play!

Would I continue with it once we are back in Chennai? I don’t know. I want to give him the chance to settle down in the new environs and get used to things first. And then, if he seems fine and if the situation warrants it, then we’ll see.

In the meantime, it sure is fantastic to see him chock full of pride over his certificate, which is already showing signs of wear, thanks to some rather enthusiastic playing last night. He is all set for the bi-annual tests at Kumon and wants to win the Gold, this September. If it makes him happy….

My Baby is 6 today! I know, I cannot believe it! I keep looking at him, looking just the same as he did yesterday and the day before and today, suddenly, he is a year older. How surreal is this? Where was the red-faced, wrinkled, squalling baby I held seconds after he was born? When did he go and become this child-person who talks cohesively? What the hell have I done with the years?Already, he is concerned that he is becoming older (!) and that in a few years his voice would break ‘into pieces’! I am not ready for this!In the meantime, happy birthday dear heart! May you spread happiness and cheer around you always. And, more importantly, may you always have it in you.

Premalatha tagged me to put baby (ish!) pix of self and the Hubby. I wondered for a while at the sanity of such an act. Then I thought ‘what the heck!’ and decided to give in.

The babe in brand new undies is me. I must’ve been 2-3 months old at that time. Check out the hair!

This innocent (ish) looking child is the Hubby. No clue how old he was at that time - 6 months or thereabouts, I guess.

And this is P, when he was 4 months old.

Now, who wants to take this up? All brave souls who comply, please put the links in the comments section for my viewing pleasure!

Yesterday, I heard my not yet 6 year old son emphatically tell me:

“I am not going to get married - not to a girl, not to a boy, not to an old woman. No. I am not. Ok?”

Ok, my boy. Whatever you want.

A little later, a request to make him put his shoes on before setting foot outside the door got his dad the comment: “whatever!” And I thought I had to wait at least till he hit 10 before hearing a “whatever!”. Is 6 like the new 10 / teenage now?

Who am I? This is a question I have often posed myself since I could formulate those words. Not because I had amnesia like Jackie Chan in that god-awful flick but when I was old enough to differentiate between dialects and accents, I figured the dad’s side of the family in the Village spoke totally differently to us folks in Madras. And this was before taking Madras baashai into account.

One of my earliest memories of visiting the paternal relatives in the Village was sitting down for lunch with most of the cousins in one or the other of the aunts’ houses and the first taste of sambhar neatly lifting the roof off my mouth. After losing my fair share of taste buds, I remember screaming for water only for everyone to hoot:

“kaarardha? Appo bus uduma?”

(Sorry – loses essence in translation. Suffice to say I said it was hot and they made fun of the words employed. Simply put, kaaram, uraippu = spicy hot

Apparently, in the Village one must say ‘orakkidhu’ – I had uttered the TamBram equivalent of that, which was found to be incredibly funny. After that, though I tried to watch what I said, it was still a difficult task as those were the only words I knew and I couldn’t come up with different words just to stop them from wetting themselves.

It was during those lonely, puzzling days that I figured my mum and dad came from different communities. As my dad had always spoken like the rest of us at home, I never had realized the difference.

That was when the problem of what I am and where I belonged started. I tried to say it was to the maternal side as I grew up with them, spoke like them, behaved like them, ate like them, and dressed like them, so I should be one of them, right? My school was inhabited predominantly by TamBrams so it was easy for me just to fit in. And I continued to think I was one of them till the day a (maternal) cousin said ‘but you are not Iyengar anyway!’, bursting yet another bubble.

It was confusion time all over again. What the hell am I? Annual trips to the Village reiterated the belief of ‘never the twain shall be met’ and I came back more confused than ever. Being surrounded by proper TamBrams and wanting to belong made me exaggerate the accent and the behaviour and every time it was checked by dad’s remark that I wanted to be a Brahmin. Well, I wanted to belong, that’s what I wanted, without having to choose between one and another. Mum choosing to follow whatever Iyengar traditions she was comfortable with, dad speaking Iyengarese when surrounded by Iyengars added to the layers of confusion. Not knowing much about the paternal culture and background didn’t help me in identifying myself with them either.

This confusion continued for a long, long time, even till my wedding day. When the time came for the wedding pandal to be put outside the gate, I had thought it would be the tricoloured strips of cloth being strung from pillar A to pillar B, like I had seen in most houses nearby. Till mum shushed me and said ‘adhellam non-Brahmins podaradhu!’

I wanted to scream “then what the heck are we?” I was tired of being stuck in the limbo land and desperately wanted a way out.

Well, I found a way out – to far off UK, by way of my Telugu husband. Whose family preferred to highlight my Brahmin roots as it was much more amenable to their clan than the Padayachi dad half.

If I had thought I had left my confusions back in India, I seem to have taken on new ones. Now to which country do I belong? I have been living in England for almost seven years now and it feels home in many ways. But I still do not inherently understand the English and their xenophobia makes it hard to make proper friends. But I am cut off from Madras and India and cannot understand 100% what is happening there – the societal issues, the changing culture, the politics, mega serials….

At the same time, I cannot fall in with Eastenders, the celebrity obsession, the near-zero importance given to academic achievements, the cold shoulder, the prejudice….

Once again, I’m asking myself – who am I? What am I? Where are my loyalties?

Who has the answers?