i talk , therefore i am

In the middle of my summer camp, working with children between 4 to 6 years in the morning and then with 7 to 11 years in the afternoon. I find this time of the year both demanding and satifying. While i enjoy developing content for the older batches, i love the time i spend with the younger ones. The difference i discovered early on in my work with children is that the younger they are, the more open they are to a variety of learning experiences. Their reactions and responses are brilliant in their originality. And they respond out of the excitement to learn and not to appear "cool" with other peers like the older ones do!

Also, yesterday in the middle of the session with the older kids, another contrast struck me - the HUGE difference in the noise levels. As children get older, the decibel levels also increase quite drastically. So the loudest group i need to tolerate (rather badly i admit) is the 9-11 year olds. They are REALLY loud - be it when responding to what i am sharing , or asking for things or simply while talking to one another. As a teacher – I myself don’t set a great example – shouting over the children’s voices to be heard and (pointlessly) trying to establish control over the group!

This got me thinking. Why do children have such a strong need to be loud? Is this their way to cope with the clamor around them? So much so that even when in quieter spaces they are unable to recognize it and moderate their volume. Most seem to use the same volume in a group of 10 as they do in a group of 60 back in school. Overcrowded cities, packed malls, crammed classrooms, angry traffic on the roads - quite a deafening world to be raised in!

Or is it that children constantly need to speak loudly to get the attention they need from us adults around? Having to speak over the evening news, the phone calls, the orders, the reprimanding...that sure needs high volume!

Another gnawing doubt, is this their desperate attempt to get the appreciation they deserve for who they are? With over-reliance on verbal intelligence in most urban learning settings, articulation gets kids instant recognition, indulgent smiles and pats on the back. So the only way for the child to feel appreciated is probably to talk talk talk and talk LOUD!

And in this entire pandemonium, there would be a child who is unable to speak up or maybe chooses not to join the hubbub...this child, like everyone else, has the need to be acknowledged, to be appreciated, to be valued would be like the others. How does that silent (yet gifted) child cope with this reality?

So as i sit in the class, overwhelmed by the decibel levels, i struggle to create a space where observing in silence, and allowing reflection to nurture one's learning and growth is possible. Where i listen first before i speak out. And allow the child in me and those outside feel valued and appreciated without having to scream out loud.

To each her own!

A few days back, drastic temperature variations in Bangalore and sure enough little Nia fell sick. She had a terrible cough and found it difficult to eat. My latest stand in life - say no to anitbiotics - led to me treating her with some home remedies (details of which are saved for another blog). So while she was getting better (will never admit otherwise), it was a slow process.

So three days of being sick, nia was up almost all night due to coughing. With all the sleep deprivation, she woke up quite disoriented. As usual she called out to me but sounded different. When i went to her room, she was sitting up, wide-eyed and looking a little surprised, a little confused. Here's what she had to say:

nia: mamma the room is shaking

me: not it is not (and i hold her tight hoping it'd help - but it obviously didn't)

nia: it is mamma, IT IS! and what is that dum dum sound

me: sweetie there is no sound

nia continued to sit there still trying to figure out and me - i am all set to pick up the phone and call the doc. Just to check i ask her: has the shaking stopped kunju?

nia: no mamma, but why are we taking the whole house on the train? are we going to ammamma?

me: nia there is no train. it is our house baaboo.

and i just sit there - holding her, looking at her - and she still glances around all baffled, trying to figure it out.....

...when suddenly, all confusion from her face clears and with her ah-i-cracked-this-one look , she turns to me and says: now i know what it is mamma,its my heart drums!

beat on crazy drums!

My Masks & Me

i was in a learning space this week with a group of friends that left me with questions on identity. Facets of my identity have been created over the years, based on my roles and relationships. Each space that i am in – the core of my identity shines through but there is a mask i take on - depending on how i perceive that space for myself. both in terms of what i need to give in and what i get for myself. And over a period of time, i have two or three masks that become an integral part of my identity. Masks through which i express myself or relate to the other in that space. Masks through which i set and fulfill expectations.

I would like to believe that there is some space, some relationship in my life where i am authentically ‘just me’ - mask-less. But that is far from the truth. i always have a mask on, no matter what space i am in. The quality of masks differ, at times an impenetrable iron plate, giving no clues about the colour of my skin or the look in my eyes and at times, a thin, almost transparent, veil of chiffon, offering a connection seeped in authenticity.

But then the question for me that stays unanswered is - what comes first - the relationship / space or the mask? As far as i can remember, i have held on to some mask or the other - and they have become my primary means of connecting with someone or living upto a role. So WHAT is this big fear of staying mask-less even as a intimacy grows; the fear of being completely open and therefore maybe vulnerable to the other? Sure, each mask helps in satisfying some need of mine in that space, but what about me do i perceive as so unacceptable if there is no mask to cover it?

As i got thinking about the different masks i don, i also got in touch with how it is most difficult for me to let go of the masks that i have taken on in my childhood. Much before my own independent identity was formed. Though there has been a lot of learning and growing and challenging of the self since i was a little girl, I simply cannot drop the mask from those early years. Almost as if peeling off that mask would mean having to scrape of my skin itself, leaving me covered with raw, wounded flesh. Or like a friend asked: do i hold on to the mask to cover the wounds that are already there, afraid of the vulnerability or even rejection that i would then have to deal with?

I don't even know if i want to take the masks off; whether i really can is a different matter altogether. But now the big question for me to work on - can i see me in the mirror without any masks on and be accepting of what i see?

The Blessing of Sunsets

I find something oddly comforting in the beauty of sunsets. The light of the sky transforming into swirls of deep red, magenta and violet, the fury of the sun dimming into a intense, yet soft orange and the slow creeping of black to engulf the world.

The message i receive as the sky transforms from a splash of vibrant colours to darkness is that no matter how your day has been - it's now time to rest. To take a deep breath & pause. To move from a frenzy to stillness. To find a sense of peace within.

And it is so heartening to see that no matter how my day has been, the beauty and peace of the sunset tells me that all's right with my world!


(Picture: Evening @ Banwasi with friends)

The legend of the Worry Dolls

The Worry Dolls is a beautiful legend from Guatemala that i first heard when my sister gifted me these dolls as i was returning home after my first visit to her home in Seattle. I have used them often and find great healing potential in this ritual.

Two years later, i decided Nia, now all of 4, was ready for her own set of Worry Dolls. Again my sister came to the rescue (sometimes i feel she is my real-life worry doll!) and sent me a set.

That night Nia was thrilled. She absolutely insisted that i too use my worry dolls that night. And both our rituals were so strinkingly different; here's a peek:

nia: what are your dolls' names mamma?
me: huh? ok here's my doll #1, #2 and #3.

nia: MAMMA! greet them nicely!
me: nice to have you here yaaaaaaawn!
nia: hi daya and baigo. daya thank you for taking care of your younger sister baigo. now both of you have to take care of me. this is my room, my pillow, my sheet. see around carefully - this will be your home now.

Then there is some whispering going on between nia and her worry dolls.

nia: ok mamma you go first
me: worry dolls please take care of my worry .....
nia: ok now my turn. Daya since you are bigger, i will give you a big worry. You make sure that i get only good dreams all through the night. And Baigo, you make sure that when i get up i remember all the good dreams.
me: ok nia time to sleep, get the dolls under your pillow.

nia: mamma one last thing - daya, baigo, if you feel thirsty in the middle of the night, let me know. I have some water with me.

lights off; blissful silence for all of 60 seconds.

nia: mamma put on the light - one last thing....whisper whisper whisper

lights off; again 60 seconds of snoozing off, when....

nia: mamma pleeeeeeeeeeeease put on the light - i promise one last thing. get me a napkin, they are cold and need a sheet

me: NIA!

nia: i said please - you cannot shout at me!

me: sigh!

Napkin on, lights off, another uneventful minute passes by...

nia: mamma i promise one really really last thing

me: one more time the lights come on, i am sending u to Guatemala!

nia: (completely ignoring my threat) Daya, Baigo, one last thing - please don't worry too much!

sigh!

my dear worry dolls, the gods in heaven, mother universe and whoever is listening - take care of this child so that she never ever loses this magical adorable spirit! And help me that i never stop to listen...

Farewell & remember...

Recently a school next door hosted a farewell party for the Std X class – a ritual we see in most schools in India. It had the usual trappings of any such event – sentimental songs from Hindi movies, an adapted version of Auld Lang Syne, and of course faculty speeches to the outgoing batch. The sounds drifting from the microphones got me thinking about my own farewell party almost two decades ago! Sadly, there isn’t much I can recall except what I wore and a simple ritual of passing a lit candle to our juniors.

Though I loved school and had my share of achievements, I am more proud of what I achieved post-school both in terms of connecting with people and also stretching my own limits. I do wish school had equipped me a little better to deal with the world and my life. So here’s my wish list of some of the things they could have told me on the night of our farewell party:

- Life is difficult and you are on your own!

- The most precious gift from your school years are your friends. Never again will you get such a long time in one place to nurture friendships. So always stay in touch with your school friends.

- We taught you language in school not so you can score marks in exams but more so that you have the ability to speak up when required.

- You probably didn’t make it to any sports team because the Physical Ed. teacher didn't know how to handle a large group. Find opportunities to play and enjoy a sport - you will learn a lot more than the game itself.

- The labels you've earned in school are not part of your identity for life. You shed them when you step out of school. And life will present you plenty of opportunities to create new labels for yourself.

- It is not important what your teachers thought of you. What you believe about yourself will shape your destiny.

- Failure is great because it will push you to stretch yourself and set you free to follow your dreams

- We punished you in school not because what you did was wrong but because we as adults could not handle what was happening and needed to regain our sense of control!

- Knowledge that you gain from books will be insignificant compared to the knowledge you gain from your experiences. You will pay a high price for it but it will be knowledge well earned.

- The world is filled with limitless opportunities and there is a space under the sun for everyone to achieve something.

- Competition is real but it will take you only to a particular level. After that, it is how you are willing to do better than what you done today

- Don't channel your efforts to build skills for a specific profession - instead channel your efforts in exploring your skills and then see which profession fits in for you.

And finally
- working with children can be very satisfying!

Maybe my teachers thought all this and tried telling me in their own ways, maybe i was not ready to receive the messages then and had to discover it in my own ways. In any case, it might be interesting to go back and listen to what they are telling the girls now. And maybe request my school principal to allow me to share my two-bits with the outgoing batch. I guess i owe this much to my school :)!

Special Friends and Special Me!

There is this amazing circle of women that i am a part of - four living in Bangalore and one in Chennai. We got together almost three years back to form a team that would facilitate a specific training program. We have developed deep personal connections with each other, through the work we did with each other and with the groups we met. And we keep meeting in-between as well :). Women at my back is how i see them in my life - truly grateful to the universe for connecting me with each of them.

i was recently with a couple of them last week, when i realized that i don't know their birthdays. i know only one woman's and i have always forgotten it almost every year since I have been friends with her! it seemed a little strange not to know it despite having been together for almost three years now.

And then i realized that we have never celebrated birthdays together. Instead, just by chance and without any pre-planning we have celebrated each time we met. Invariably one of us would have gifts for everyone. It doesn’t matter what day or why or after how long we are meeting. Each of our meetings is preceded by a little exchange of gifts. Either picked up from places where we might have travelled with our families, or simply while walking down the streets of our own city. I have a treasure chest holding all the gifts - reminding me of these special connections we share and more importantly reminding me how special i am. Incense cones, key chain from Romania, a beautiful diary with handmade pages, a bamboo clip from Shillong, flavoured teas, a t-shirt from Hawaii, worry dolls, hand cream from Bath & Body works, a compact shopping bag to fight plastic, a bright red tea light holder, a tribal good luck charm, lavender oil......the list goes on!

I guess, this is my circle of women where we don't celebrate occasions - we celebrate people.