It is mid February and here I am, at entry number two. I did seem to have a lot to ponder about but somehow, I managed not to. In a way, I can brag that I had been silent. Or may be not. I had been thinking about a lot of things to blog about, so the mental silence is a far cry. As yet. But, we'll get there.
The second born got registered into Kindergarten. Yes, that tiny peanut that made the big bang wild card entry, like yesterday, is ready to kick off a lifetime of learning, starting with the 'on campus' stint. And then, like I keep reminding myself, it is a hamster wheel for life. Just today I was tracing back to the other play schools she attended in the past. The last one she attended was with a kind lady Ms.A. Ms.A was a dainty woman, with a shrill voice which sounded exactly like the actor Sridevi's , with the same exact diction in English. Ms.A was ever smiling, with a gentle demeanor. Her frizzy, tight curled hair cascaded from the nape of her neck in a loose ponytail. When we showed up at the door, I always had to remind myself not to ring the bell, as it made baby M, A doe eyed toddler of eighteen months, break into a fit of sobs.
The child, who would be on the floor playing with blocks or soft toys would turn to the door, give me a soul stirring stare and break into streams of tears. Her chubby cheeks would cloud her eyes and the four teeth on her lower gums would glisten in a wide open mouth.
"She cries when she hears the doorbell" Ms.A offered, suggesting that we didn't ring the bell. The next few days, I knocked, but somehow Baby M used to follow her customary reaction to the door and I would be left feeling like a monster. "It probably reminds her of the parent that left her at the door" I offered on one of those days. "You know what? That's what it is. She remembers her mom or dad leaving when someone is at the door" Ms.A agreed with me. If my first born came with me to drop the kid off, she used to get misty, urging in my ear to pick baby M and pacify her. "Hold her close amma" She would suggest, as baby M would look at us with tear filled eyes, tiny droplets of tears trapped in her lush lashes looking like miniature gossamer fairy wings. A couple of weeks passed and baby M seemed to make peace with the door, and the knocks or the bells that ensued every morning when the school opened the doors to the kids. She used to look at me with dilated eyes, contemplating whether or not to cry. Slowly, the bewildered 'deer in the headlights' look softened into an unsure smile, in a 'to be or not to be' fashion. By the end of the first month, it even felt like her eyes shone a bit when she used to spot me at the door. Her near toothless grin made her eyes disappeared the same way her helpless cry did and we kind of warmed up to the new normalcy of baby M's day.
When I used to drive back, I used to have flashes of my own triggers clouding my head. Random, seemingly trivial incidents that scrape new hurts out of old, near forgotten wounds. Not until I discovered the mindfulness and letting the thought pass through without giving it an emotional charge did I realize that most of what we put ourselves through is an encore presentation of what had passed and what had pained. When those stories are dropped soon as they pop up, life seems to be adjusting to the new normal those experiences would put us through.
We stayed with Ms.A long enough for baby M to squeal in joy when she spotted me at the door during my drop off and pick up duty. She used to lumber to me in her unsteady toddler trot and offer her hands to be picked. Once in a while, she used to be perched on Ms.A's hip, her head nonchalantly rested on Ms.A's chest. On such days I would wonder if she was sleepy or a little low in spirit. But life does have a way to make us learn - or learn to ignore, let go, surrender.
May be it is how life prepares us to run in the hamster wheel, moderating the pain shadowing the ponder and boy, does it start off teaching from the crib!
Such a class A bitch this Life!!
