We were in Vadodara last weekend and took Beckett to the zoo. And it is an impressive zoo. Lions, tigers, leopards, deer, ghariyals, peacocks, pelicans, blue crowned pigeons, rabbits, tortoises, and what not.
While this was my first trip to the Vadodara zoo, it was Beckett's fourth or fifth. I guess by now, the majesty of these caged animals had become passe to her. So she was more interested in the pack of Grey Langurs that was not inside a cage, and was marauding the zoo with complete impunity and was at times baiting the hapless leopards with their long tails.
The fact that there were a few infants in the pack made Beckett all the more curious.
Missus was at her protective best keeping a constant eye on the rouge monkeys lest one of them make a grab for the apple of her eye (Beckett).
The whole thing felt like being in a surreal setting. We had wild animals all around us. Neither was Beckett interested in seeing them, nor was Missus interested in protecting her from them. What both of them were most interested in was a bunch of monkeys.
(Sometimes I feel it could very well be me instead of the bunch of monkeys because at some point, for no reason, both Missus and Beckett are interested in what I am upto)
Being a son/daughter and parent is very much like this all throughout life.
My mother still worries if I've had proper food or not and worries about Atman's whereabouts even though we've roamed all around the world on our own. We on our part are more interested in things that 10 years down the line will seem frivolous.
No, this post is not about the Indian Monkey God Hanuman. This post is about Capisce. It is complicated, messy, and at times unsavory.
It is about how I try to explain things to Beckett, like the numbers on the lift, how 0 means the ground floor and how 3 means the floor where we live, how Chandamama (moon maternal uncle) means the moon and where to look for it, how 'Ba ba' is followed by 'black sheep', how it is not okay to bite Missus or me or Baa (my mom), and how she should learn to walk on her own without the fear of falling down because falling and getting up is part of life.
But it is also about how Beckett tries to explain things to me, like how it is not okay to pull her out of the bath tub till she is satisfied pouring all the water out or into multiple containers or anywhere she pleases, how Pappa has no standing in front of Mummy or for that matter even Baa, how even th//smallest things like Baa going to the bathroom can trigger the most severe bouts of separation anxiety, how it is essential to eat food on one's own even if it means an entire room of mess for Mummy to clean, how it is essential to lay down your own law while Pappa lays down his for you.
If this wasn't enough, this post is also about Pappa trying to explain to Mummy that it is not cool to give in to Beckett's tantrum tactics, how it sets a bad precedent that is very difficult to reverse, how we must choose what is right and not what is convenient. It is about Mummy trying to explain to Pappa that Beckett is too young to lay down the law, how it is a better idea to distract rather than discipline, how only those who have the luxury of not having to do it talk about choosing right over convenient, how Pappa himself does a few things that are convenient but not right.
If this too wasn't enough, this post is about the grandparents who get involved and try to explain things to the children in law, and the uncles and aunts start pitching in their two cents too which really irritates Pappa and Mummy but separately on separate issues on separate counts.
So in the end this is a post about how everyone wants to 'Kapish?' the other person but does not want to 'Kapish' himself or herself. And therein lies the rub.
P.S: Beckett now walks. Actually it's more of waddling like a duck. Interesting times ahead.
This is an erroneous post. It shouldn't be here. You should understand how fried my brain is given that I'm going back in the alphabet. Too many things floating around loose in there. I'm going to be very banal and leave here for Beckett the mothers of all paternal advice. Lets start with Ithaca because I think this is more important and in line with how I view life.
Ithaca
As you set out for Ithaca
hope the voyage is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians and Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope the voyage is a long one.
May there be many a summer morning when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you come into harbors seen for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to gather stores of knowledge from their scholars.
Keep Ithaca always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you are destined for.
But do not hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you are old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaca to make you rich.
Ithaca gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaca won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you will have understood by then what these Ithacas mean.
And now for If. But this is really not coming from me, this is not me. I'm a man full of flaws and follies. I have no right to preach this. I give 'If' to Beckett more as a student and peer than as a preacher of it.
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
P.S: The amazing thing about Gujarati, my mother tongue is that I can call Beckett by the word for 'son', but if I ever have a son, I can never address him by the word for 'daughter'. Only daughters have that privilege and right.
Many thanks to Messers Cavafy and Kipling for their kind wise words.
