Autumn is almost gone. There are more leaves on the road than on the trees now. More days with rain than the son.
The days are going by so fast. In another two months you will be four. And by this time next year you will have started going to school.
The days are going by so fast. Sometimes it feels like you feel it too. You want to hold on just like me.
Sometimes when I’m driving you to the nursery and I show you the little children going to school, you say “I don’t want to go to school. I don’t want to grow up. I want to always be a toddler.”
I feel a little afraid when I hear you say this. The world is a difficult place. There is so much uncertainty in life. I don’t know what your life will be like.
Your mother and I will not always be there to protect you. We will do our best but I’m sure you will have to go through many storms on your own. I hope you deal with them with courage and resilience. And almost every day I pray that you have a happy life – overall.
***
We have bought you a keyboard recently. I’m trying to learn. And teach you as well. I don’t know how successful I will be. You will – when you are reading this – years from now.
Your grandparents think that you have a knack for music. You do like humming tunes on your own and love listening to your songs – I don’t know whether all toddlers do that.
But I would love it if you did grow up being good at music. If I could go back and change a few things in my childhood and early adulthood – this would probably be one of the top things in my list, along with being better at some sports and having more (or at least one or two) girlfriends. I was painfully shy with the opposite sex..I hope you are not.
I will really be proud of you if you are even half decent at music. And if nothing else, I am sure it will bring you a lot of joy.
***
You are enjoying drawing a lot these days. For the last couple of weeks, every evening when I go to nursery you are either drawing something or you have a collection of at least one or two papers with your artwork waiting to be taken home. On weekends we draw on your easel board together.
For now the papers are all going into a big stack on our steps – but we need to find a home for them – an empty shoebox is your mamma’s suggestion. I don’t know where these will eventually end up. The ones on the board are temporary anyway. So I am posting some of them here for you to see. I am really proud of these.
The train trackFishy, Baba Whale and Tortoise Family – Mama, Baba, Adi, Amma, Dadu and one other (who has sometimes been Karem and sometimes Santi)Sun, rainbow and train track This was a joint effort – me and you together – I love your little pandi, and bus, and Baba whaleYour modern art!
You can write some numbers and alphabets as well now. We have been doing this together off and on for many months now and I love to see how you are getting better at it.
You tend to write all over the place though. Or sometimes right to left – like Urdu. So it was your Amma’s suggestion that I make boxes for you to write in.
We did the same thing for Santi’s birthday card – you wrote happy birthday Santi – all by yourself.
The red font is all yours
PS: I am editing the post two days after the original because I just couldn’t resist uploading a photo of this multi coloured Choo Choo Train you drew this morning. You drew a carriage for yourself, Mama, Baba, Amma and Dadu. And there was an extra carriage left. I was wondering whether it will be for Karem or Santi but then you said it’s for William.
If you don’t remember him when you grow up, he is the nice gentle middle aged man who lives two doors down from us. He lives alone, travels a lot, often going to India for long yoga retreats or driving through Europe on his van which he has turned into a little mobile home complete with bed and shower. He is one of the three frequently appearing non family characters in your drawings – apart from Karem and Santi.
You wrote all the names as well – Adi, Mama, Baba, Amma and Dadu in the one line at the bottom. And then William on top as he needed more space 🙂
Last week was unusually warm. But even then, in the evenings of the ever shortening days you could feel the winter coming – like the approaching footsteps of a distant army.
The roads are already full of autumn leafs. Adi collected quite a few when we had gone to Central Park a few days back and to Saltram House. He loves yellow leaves.
I’m on leave from work this week. M is in China for a work trip..Adi’s nursery is closed. My parents are still here – but their trip is almost over, they are leaving on the 8th. It was good to have them around for almost six months.
At Saltram, and Central park, Adi with his Amma Dadu
Life is still somewhat uncertain. M’s lost her job. I’m not having a great time at mine either.
Will we still be here in Plymouth a year from now? A few months back I was thinking this is probably our last summer here. We were both thinking that moving might be best. But now we are not so certain – after thinking long and hard about the pros and cons.
Maybe something will work out. There was some positive news on M’s side last week – but not confirmed yet. Let’s see.
The rains have started again
From yesterday it has started raining again. The temperature is much cooler as well. As I lie on the bed I can hear the raindrops on the glass window.
The Britanny Ferry at Plymouth Port
I don’t mind the shortening days.
Sometimes I go out for a walk in the evening. I like watching the soft yellow lights coming out of the windows. The little glimpses of people going about their lives. I float through the neighbourhood unobserved – like a benevolent god out to observe his people.
The wind is often stronger now. If you stop near the anchored boats, the clatter of the masts and all the other moving parts sound more urgent. The other day, I was sitting near the water with my eyes closed after my little run and for some reason the clatter suddenly conjured up in my mind the picture of an elven factory with the workers urgently hammering away with their little golden hammers on some secret weapon.
The sound of the waves are a lot more subtle, especially in the part near my home, because the little bit of the sea there is, is blocked on almost all sides by the walls of the wharf. When the tide is high, the water going out and coming into holes asking the walls make a strange gurgling noise.
The noise also keeps disappearing based on the much attention you are paying to it. One moment it is there. The next moment you are lost in your thoughts and there are no boats and no sea and no screeching seagulls, nothing except the chatter chatter chatter inside your head.
You are 3 years and 7 months now. Its still summer, but the days are getting shorter. Maybe this is the last warm spell of the year. Your Amma, Dadu has been here for almost six months now. Six months is a lot of time in the life of a three year old. They will leave in September. You spend so much time playing with them. You treat Amma almost like a sibling. You want to play with her all the time. But she is also the one you fight with the most.
Them being here has meant your Mom and me have had a bit more chance to go out without you. Its not like we don’t like going out with you. But sometimes you can be too much of a pain in the … 🙂 . “Not noooow” you would say. “I’m still playing”“I don’t like the new pram” (we have bought a new stroller for you as your old pram was getting a bit small, but you haven’t graced it with your presence yet. Other than toys – you hate new things – we had a hard time getting the two and something year old you to get to wear a pair of new shows when the old one had a hole in it. This time it was easier because we luckily managed to get the exact same looking pair (just a size bigger) like your last one.
The other day you were playing at home with Amma Dadu and your mom and I had gone for shopping to the local Aldi. Union Street probably had seen happier days but these days it looks a bit dodgy. Other than the Aldi and the Lidl, everything else there seems a bit run down. There is a shortcut from our house to the Aldi and if you go through that, you pass by one of these run down buildings. It looks like at one time it must have been something fairly majestic – maybe a theatre, or a hotel. But now its broken down. With boarded windows and crumbling walls and graffiti on the side.
I found this poem there, painted amidst the gloom, on an old red brick wall, flanked by broken windows, exposed electric cables and overgrowing ivy below – off the main road where most people walk on – somewhere few would pass by, and even fewer would notice.
I hope when you grow up, you have the capacity to love the unloved and imperfect. Find beauty in the ugly and the flawed. Not shy away from the broken and the unfashionable.
***
The poem also reminded my of the famous letter written by Abraham Lincoln to his son’s teacher. I think this is the most beautiful letter I have ever read. I had read it when I was in school. And it had stuck with me ever since. Sometimes
He will have to learn, I know, that all men are not just, all men are not true.
But teach him also that for every scoundrel there is a hero. That for every selfish politician, there is a dedicated leader. Teach him that for every enemy there is a friend. Steer him away from envy, if you can. Teach him the secret of quiet laughter.
Let him learn early that the bullies are the easiest to lick. Teach him, if you can, the wonder of books. But also give him quiet time to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky, bees in the sun, and the flowers on a green hillside.
In the school teach him it is far honorable to fail than to cheat. Teach him to have faith in his own ideas even if everyone tells him they are wrong. Teach him to be gentle with gentle people and tough with the tough.
Try to give my son the strength not to follow the crowd when everyone is getting on the band wagon. Teach him to listen to all men. But teach him also to filter all he hears on a screen of truth and take only the good that comes through.
Teach him if you can, how to laugh when he is sad. Teach him there is no shame in tears. Teach him to scoff at cynics and to beware of too much sweetness. Teach him to sell his brawn and brain to the highest bidders but never to put a price-tag on his heart and soul.
Teach him to close his ears to a howling mob and to stand and fight if he thinks he’s right. Treat him gently, but do not cuddle him because only the test of fire makes fine steel.
Let him have the courage to be impatient. Let him have the patience to be brave. Teach him always to have sublime faith in himself because then he will have sublime faith in mankind.
This is a big order, but see what you can do. He is such a fine fellow, my son !
***
We went to the fireworks festival yesterday. It was on the Hoe. Walking distance from our home. Luckily you had a nap after coming back from the nursery so you didn’t fall asleep before 9.30. You didn’t want to take your pram. I didn’t want to carry you all the way there. You promised you will walk. You were very excited all the way there. It was also after a long time you had actually gone out after dark so you were looking at wonder at all the things we normally don’t notice – the streetlamps, the car headlights, the dark sky. And describing them excitedly in your wonderful little voice. It was adorable.
The fireworks itself had somewhat of a mixed effect on you. You said “wow” a few times. But then you got scared. “Are they coming towards me”, “where are they falling”, “I don’t like it”, “too loud”. You then wanted to see the lights of the rides on the Hoe. It was full of people. Like half of Plymouth had turned out. You wanted to come back. Your mom and I took turns carrying you. Every time the fireworks went off with loud bangs you hid your face on our shoulders. I could feel your little nose and cheeks and your warm breath on my neck
Woofie enjoying the view from our living room window
You love dogs. And cats. But dogs more I think.
When we are out walking somewhere and a dog passes by, you wave and say hello doggy.
Once you and me had gone to Plymouth Hoe (this was a couple of months ago) and there were a couple of dogs playing with each other near the light house – chasing balls, chasing each other, mock wrestling. You were so excited and fascinated that you refused to move from there. You were jumping up and down and running around like the dogs.
You have a doggy bag which Tuktuk Babu gave you on your first birthday when we were in India. It was your favourite friend for a very long time. You wouldn’t go anywhere without Doggy. You slept with it on your cot.
Its still amongst your best friends – along with Baba Whale, Nemo and Pandi. Though Baba Whale seems to be your current favourite.
The other day Amma made you a dog with blocks. Apparently you gave it the name Woofie all by yourself. I have no idea how you came up with the name, if you had heard it anywhere before. I really liked the name.
You have been playing with Woofie often but he keeps getting broken when you try to cuddle him and we have to fix him. The other day when you woke up you said I want a doggy Baba. I said you have Doggy and Woofie. You said no a real doggy.
I would have loved to get you a doggy. A real one. But it’s difficult in our current situation. We go to India for a couple of weeks every year in December. Moreover, I am always a bit worried that if something happens to your Amma or Dadu I will have to leave / we will have to leave UK (although this is something your Mamma and I don’t agree on).
So I don’t know when we can get a doggy. Though I really really want to. But the last thing I would want for me or for you is for us to get an animal we love and not be able to look after it or to have to try and find a different home for it. So.when you asked me the other day I told you yes we will get one, when you grow up.
You said okaaay, in the adorable little way you have of saying ok. I felt really bad. You had asked me once before as well. I think it was just after we saw all those dogs playing in Plymouth Hoe. At that point I had said we will get one when we live in India.
You know when I was a kid, I had a doggy. His name was Bhundul, which in Bangla means someone who spoils everything (but in an adorable way). He was a Lhasa Upso, we got him from our grandfather’s house in Kurseong.
Bhundul’s mom and grandmom was in our family as well, Holla and Shintu..I forgot who was who. Bhundul’s grandma was a gift to my grandad. He was a Doctor. Sometimes he would see patients for free (for those who couldn’t afford the fees). She was a gift from one of the free patients.
I still remember us bringing Bhundul in a small green basket, first on the car from Kurseong to New Jalpaiguri Station (which was a couple of hours journey) and then in the train (which was overnight). And then the local train from Sealdah station to Sonarpur. And it must have been an auto after that, I have forgotten.
I remember people staring, asking questions, providing advice. I don’t think Upsos were very common in Kolkata then. People were saying he belongs to the hills,you should not have got him here, how will he survive in this heat etc.
And he gave all the appearance of being exhausted from the journey, dozing inside his basket, eating and drinking little, not making any noise. And in general, giving the appearance of someone who has given up all hope and resigned himself to his fate, justifying any sympathy the good citizens of Kolkata were showing him, and making my mom and dad feel guilty for separating him away from his mother and his (mountainous) home land. But the moment we came to our house and set the basket down he started yapping and jumping, back to the little turbo charged puppy we had always known.
I can write whole pages about Bhundul and still it would be too short. He was a dog with a character. Not just an ordinary cuddly toy dog. In his youth he had all sorts of adventures, from chasing cows (unsuccessfully) to chasing away a thief (successfully) to encounters with snakes and goats and full moon nights spent on our roof howling like a wolf to loving Bengali food to biting most of the children and adults in our family at least once (except my mom), to running away from home and coming back all covered with dirt from his outing in the little bamboo forest behind our home, to watching Mahabharata on TV with the whole family, to being called a lion by two kids visiting our home, to stealing socks – the list goes on and on. For a period he was so famous that people would call our house Bhundul’s home.
A lot of my childhood was synonymous with Bhundul being a constant presence. And then we also had at various points a cat (which was actually in our family from before I was born), pigeons, a couple of budgerigars (the first one of which actually flew into our house on its own from somewhere during Jhulan festival and then my uncle made a cage for it and we got it some more friends). But Bhundul was really my friend.
Bhundul stayed with us for a long time. But in the end he became too sick. We had to put him down. I think my childhood ended a little with that. I didn’t cry. I just went on as usual. I think it was perhaps a little before my tenth exams. I don’t exactly remember.
We buried Bhundul in our back garden. Somewhere between my grandmother’s guava tree and the tubewell. The guava tree had little fruits with a dark green outside and bright pink inside which never grew very big. The tube well was connected to our overhead water tank, with a electric pump which was usually my dad’s or mom’s and later sometimes my duty to switch on every morning to fill the tank. The tube well was also the place where we would sometimes as kids have bath during the summer holidays (as the water was refreshingly cold, much better than the water from the tank).
I think Bhundul still lies there, somewhere frozen in time and space. Between the tube well and the guava tree of my childhood, a few feet from our boundary wall. The cat is there somewhere as well, his eternal enemy in life. She lies somewhere on the other side, next to my uncles house, which was next to our house.
Other than them, everything else has moved on. The garden covered in concrete and turned into a garage. The guava tree long dead. Our boundary wall no longer ours since my parents sold the house a few years back. The bamboo forest behind our home cut down for some project ( we had heard it was to be an engineering college) which never materialised.
I want to show you Bhundul’s photo some day. I remember one which was taken when he was a few years old. A handsome white and brown little fellow, eyes almost covered in fur. Sitting on our roof. Looking like a little lion. I will ask your Dadu to send it so that I can add it to this post.
I hope you do get your Woofie someday. Like I had my Bhundul. If your Baba is not able to get you one, when you grow up and read this post, do get him. I really want you to have a Woofie.
**
PS: We had gone to Saltram today. You, me, Amma, Dadu and Mamma. And your yellow scooty. You are becoming quite good at riding it. You can even apply the little break over the back wheel and control your speed downhill.
The only thing is you hate walking and whenever we ask you to walk you want me to carry you. I sort of poor my foot down today and made you walk a bit. I do hope that you start enjoying walking when you are a bit older. Both your mom and I like walking and we used to go for lots of walks in and around Plymouth before. We are eager to be able to go again.
At Saltram for a walk, we took the road less travelled
We have been to this area so many times now over the last couple of years that it all merges into one.
It’s only by looking at my previous posts that I remember which trip was what, and realise this will be our fifth visit since 2021.
So I thought, before I start writing, let me make a list of all the others I wrote about before. So that it’s all in one place. So that when I am eighty (assuming I live that long and wordpress still keeps my posts around – don’t know which is more unlikely), I can find them all in one place.
By “this area”, I mean the general north side of Devon and Cornwall. Given the situation at home now, it’s very likely we will leave Plymouth within the year, so maybe this is our last visit to “this area”. But one thing I’ve learnt in my life is that whatever I expect or plan for never seems to happen. So who knows.
Also, for various reasons, I’m not my usual (generally) positive self the last couple of days (and weeks and months). So I had to push myself a little to write this. So this is hardly going to be a labour of love. I will probably just do a quick and dirty job of it and try to finish it off. Just for my own records. I’m not expecting anyone to read this. And lastly, I have to do it this weekend otherwise it will never get done…
As it is, the only time I get these days to write things to my blog (I use the wordpress app on my phone) is usually when I am on the loo (or late night in bed when I’m fighting to stay awake).
We set off just after 3, with Adi and his Amma, Dadu in the backseat. Adi treats his grandmom, his Amma, like a sibling. He will want to play with her all the time. Follow her around all day. And also “fight” with her – with frequent go away Amma or Amma will not go on holiday etc.
So in the car, it’s usually his Dadu in between the car seat and Amma on the other side. As soon as he gets up in the car he will inevitably say I’m hungry, so we always have to keep something for him to eat in the car. His favourite is miny breadsticks. We try and avoid junk food at home. But he is allowed a bit of indulgence when I’m the car.
Though it’s North Devon, the route my TomTom was showing me from Plymouth was via Cornwall and not from the Exeter side. We stopped at the MacDonalds just after Saltash bridge as my wife wanted to grab something quick to eat. The rest of the journey was uneventful. Adi had fallen asleep a few minutes into the journey and kept sleeping the entire 1.5 hours. Nothing much happened except me missing the right exit in one roundabout and ending up have to drive for 5 minutes in some Cornwall town with steep and narrow roads made narrower by on street parking.
We reached the holiday park quite easily. We initially missed the instruction from AirBnB host which said park in the additional parking and then walk up the steep path so took us ten extra minutes to find the caravan. But we did find it in the end, with some help from the locals (one gentleman who we found out owns a caravan here, is from Swindon, normally rents the place out during season and stays here in winter when it’s warmer here).
The sea view, from the living roomThe sea view, from just outside the living room
The view from the deck was quite nice. The coastline here has lots of bays so you can see the beaches in the distance..and towards the evening, when it’s not so bright, the very very faint coast of Wales on the other side of the Bristol Channel as well.
The staff was surprisingly welcoming
Day 2 Afternoon Westward Ho!
That’s right. There is an exclamation mark in the name. This is the only place I have come across in my life which has an exclamation mark its name.
This was the beach closest to where we were. Also we had been here previously so knew that there were some restaurants etc.
After parking in the main car park and trying to decide between the fish and chips place and the Thai place and the stone baked pizza place in the middle (which didn’t have any other customers), we decided to have lunch in the one in the middle – which turned out to be decent enough, I don’t know why everyone was shunning it like plague.
The beach itself wasn’t that great. It was high tide and only a small pebbly part was exposed, the rest was a rocky expanse. Lots of nice houses and flats along the shore, right on the main street. A well oiled (or more likely well sunscreened) somewhat pinkish past middle aged man was sunning himself on one of them.
If you walk a bit further there are all the arcades and ice cream shops and burger shops and other things you would expect to find in a place you might want to call “commercialised”
Westward Ho!
When you walk further along, there is a mound, almost like some sort of pebbly dam, which goes all the way into the distance along the sea. People were climbing on top and walking on it. Some were having takeaway food there. I suspect it goes all the way to Saunton Sands which lies just at to the North and is a much nicer beach.
It would have been a nice walk but it’s not one you can do with a toddler and two elderly people. So we decided to go back to the parking lot and go somewhere else. Passing by the topless man (who now seemed fully clothed) and our empty restaurant (it had one lady in a hat now reading a book)
Day 2 Evening: Woolacombe
This was our first time here and I really loved – the parking. It’s huge. I suffer from parking anxiety and the first thing I worry about when I go somewhere is if I will get parking.
But the Esplanade parking in Woolacombe is really huge, overlooking the sea, and it even has rows of benches in it overlooking the sea (presumably for people who are too lazy to walk to the beach to come, park, sit on them, and go back).
We spent quite a bit of time there, in the parking, as my wife and I had an argument which seemed to last for ever. All this time, Adi was peacefully sleeping in his car seat and my mom and dad were sitting on a bench nearby.
By the time we finished and Adi woke up and we made it to the beach most people had already started leaving, which was great as the beach had started becoming nice and quiet. The beach has a dog friendly side and a dogless side, conveniently separated by a stream running through the middle. We put our picnic mat and chairs down on the dogless side.
Adi had a blast, first playing with his dumper truck, then playing with the flying disk with his Dadu and lastly just rolling around and jumping in the sand. When we started packing to get back, he wanted to go to the water. It was low tide and the water was a long way off. I set off with him bit midway he lost steam and wanted to write Adi, Mama, Baba, Amma and Dadu on the sand. So we did that and went back. Back to the car. And about an hour’s drive back to our “holiday home”.
A river (stream) running through it, Woolacombe beachThe dumper truck and other assorted beach equipment for AdiThe friendly neighbourhood sea gullThe sea had receded a long way off
I must say though, I found Woolacombe to be probably one of the best beaches I have seen in the UK. Beautifully long, sandy, nice surroundings, good for swimming (and surfing for those who can do it)
Day 3: Lynton and Lynmouth
This has become a standard fixture in our itinerary to North Devon because Adi loves the funicular – the water powered cliff railway (originally built in the 1890s) which you can take from Lynton which is on the top of the cliff to Lynmouth which is at the bottom near the sea.
We had also originally planned to go on the one mile Victorian era steam railway from the nearby Woody Bay but that was unluckily Fridays are the only day in the week that remains closed.
The road to Lynton is quite picturesque, it winds its way through beautiful green valleys and meadows and cliffs and wooded areas. The first part was a pain though. One of the main highways going through Barnstaple was blocked and there was a huge queue of traffic. My GPS took me down some random streets but I think I entered one reserved for buses and taxis by mistake..I’m worried I will get a unpleasant letter through my postbox in a few weeks time.
Lynton and Lynmouth seem to have lots of these nice old houses nestled between the greenery of the cliffGoing down from Lynton to Lynmouth on the funicular
There is a fish and chip shop just as you get down from the funicular and turn right. We got some takeaways from there, crossed the bridge over the little river with its colourful boats and sat down at the park opposite the miny golf with our food.
There seemed to be really very few people around, compared to the other times we have been here. The guy at the chippy said Fridays are quieter. Maybe it was the calm before the bank holiday storm.
With Adi running around in the park after food and ice creams, Baba and I decided to take a little walk along the sea side. The road leads to a nice cafe (which was closed) and a tiny beach nestled at the bottom of the cliff which you would never guess was there if you hadn’t walked that way.
We had originally planned to go to Saunton Sands after this but it was already too late so decided to head back to our caravan.
Day 4: Back to Plymouth
The holiday park had got a lot busier of the last evening as it was the bank holiday weekend. Our holiday was ending when it was beginning for the others – in a way the decision was good, helped us avoid the crowds.
It was time to say goodbye to the caravan. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to stay in a caravan like this, not for a holiday but all the time. It seems to have everything you need for yourself, but almost no space for any of your possessions. It’s totally impractical for living with a toddler but maybe something you can do after retirement.
The tiny basin in the tiny caravan en-suite, and a spiders web Adi spotted
Unlike the bright sunny last three days, the weather was more cloudy, and moist, a hint of rain in the breeze. Felt like the right sort of weather for goodbyes.
I enjoyed the drive back, at least the first part, the road winding it’s way through the greenery of the open Exmoorish landscape. I love driving on the moors, whether Dartmoor or Exmoor. There is something wonderful being on a road stretching all the way to the horizon. Watching the shadows of the clouds move shining the landscape. The vast open spaces. It’s as if they make your soul expand. And leave day to day worries and anxieties and anger behind, even if just for some time..
I sometimes feel really lucky to have the parents I do. And I feel really unlucky that I have ended up living so far away from them.
I never wanted it this way. When I was growing up I always had this idea that when I am an adult and they are getting old, I will always be near them. Taking care of them.
We were supposed to be in the UK only for a few years. While my wife finished her post doc. And now I feel like I’m stuck here against my wishes.
And while it’s a beautiful country and we live in a beautiful part of it, to me deep down it will always feel like an exile. A prison.
If it was just me, I would have left for India tomorrow. But it isn’t just me. And now there is Adi also.
I hope somehow that it all works out. That I look back at this post a few years later and think that I was unduly worried.
But I don’t see a path now. I wake up every day and this is the first thing that comes to mind..and then I pick up the phone to distract myself.
**
Ma Baba is here now for a visit. It’s been really great for Adi. Every morning he wakes up and rushes to their room. Then he is with his Amma Dadu all day long.
If he could, he would have stopped going to the nursery all together. He keeps wishing that Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday (his nursery days) doesn’t come.
I am glad he is getting to spend this time with them. I have so many beautiful memories of my childhood with my grandparents and other relatives. Adi doesn’t have anyone here other than the two of us. I hope he always remembers this time. He always remembers his Amma Dadu.
The sea was a bit more choppy today than usual. He was in his usual place at the back of the ferry. Holding the railing. Closing his eyes and taking in the biting fresh wind and the occasional sprays of cold salty water.
It was crowded today. He could feel someone standing beside, looking out rather than looking in, like most of the others.
The wind blew a few strands of hair his way. Touching his face. Like a piece of soft cloth. The strands were brown, he noticed through half open eyes.
He didn’t mind. In fact he was quite enjoying it. They brought back memories. Of love and light. Of springs and summers. Of happier times.
The owner of the strand noticed. “I’m sorry”, she was saying, trying to brush off the unruly mass. He turned and looked at her. Soft twinkly eyes below the soft brown curls. She was still smiling.
Sun shining through the oak at Lanhydrock. We had gone last weekend, you, me, Mamma, Amma and Dadu. You had lots of fun riding your yellow scooty around the estate.
**
The other day, you gave a gift to your best friend.
If you read this many years from now, I don’t know if you will remember Karem. Your first “best friend”, and I hope you have many more to follow.
You and your mom met Karem and his mom in the library rhyme time session when you were still officially a baby. Somehow the moms clicked, and then you guys went on your first play date in Plymouth Hoe, and you haven’t looked back since.
There have been many more play dates since. At our house, at their house, in the park near our home, in Central Park, in the city centre near the merry go round, in various soft play areas.
When we say you will meet Karem this weekend, your face always lights up. I know how much you enjoy playing with him. You keep asking when are we meeting Karem. Are we going to his house now? Now? What about now?
I feel a little sad for you because when I look back to my childhood, there were always my cousins. At least, Rumki, my cousin sister who for many years lived in the same house before they moved next door. And during the holidays there was Tintu, and sometimes others. In Kurseong, there was a whole different gang. And there were the neighbourhood friends – Raja and Babla and all the others.
And even though I was a shy self conscious child, I never had a dearth of friends, at least not till I was much older. And I never felt like the only child. I worry how it will be for you. The other day, at a birthday party, you were initially shy and diffident and standing near us. Then we encouraged you to approach one or two others, one British kid and one whose Mom was from Eastern Europe.
They were slightly older than you and didn’t seem to want to play with you. You didn’t seem to mind but your mom and I both felt quite bad. We worry about you. About whether you will be able to make friends in your nursery, in your school, in your life. We don’t have too many friends here, at least friends with children. And no relatives. When I was little, it felt like I was a part of a big connected community – cousins, relatives, neighbours. It wasn’t all positive but on the whole it did play a positive part in my life. And I had enough kids in and around my age by default without trying. You start here from zero.
You don’t know this yet but Karem and his family will move back to Turkey at the end of the year. For your sake, I hope this is as late as possible. I wish we could move back to India too. I think it would have been good for you, being near your grandparents, and so many other relatives who all adore you. We could go to Kurseong in summer like I used to when I was a kid. And go to Puri, which to me is still the best family beach in the world. We could go and meet friends and relatives on the weekends. I know I would be much happier as well.
But your mom doesn’t want to. First it was for her own career and now she says it will be better for you here. I don’t know. She always seems to get her way. I was always the more easy going person. I hope you are not like me in this, at least not when it really matters. Sometimes it’s good to be able to push back.
I hope you have a happy childhood here, like I did in India. I hope you find other Karem’s. Your mom says we will be your best friends, that having too many friends is also not good. She has a similar view of relatives. It’s not her fault. Everyone gets shaped by their experiences. I hope you have many good friends, all through your life. Parents can’t always take the place of friends just like friends can’t take the place of parents.
I know this as I don’t have any friends now. I’m not good at maintaining relationships with friends who are not nearby. And am even worse at making new friends. Most of the time it doesnt matter to me. I’m usually quite comfortable in solitude, enjoy it even. But sometimes I do feel a tinge of regret. Especially when it comes to you. I hope you fare better.
**
Karem had given you a dark red hot wheels car as a gift the other day. And when you went to his house after that we asked you whether you wanted to give him a gift. You chose one of your little yellow cars, a jeep, with little plastic doors which you can open and close.
We were wondering whether you actually understood what it meant to give a gift. The fact that you won’t get it back anymore. But I think you understood. When we were coming out of the house you said I will miss the yellow car in my home. And I said, I know, when you give a gift it happens, and you can feel sad also, missing the thing you gave. But giving a gift is still good. You didn’t say anything more.
You gave your car to Karem. When you left it at his home, you said goodbye and tucked it in. I think you really liked the car. It wasn’t something of no consequence. This is the best type of gift that you can give. It’s a sacrifice. Giving up something you love.
I’m really proud of you for being able to do that.
**
We are going through somewhat of a difficult time as a family now. Your mom is about to lose her job. We might have to move from Plymouth where we had bought a house less than a year ago. There are problems with my work as well. Whatever happens in the next few months, it will probably mean a lot of changes. For you as well.
I hope things work out for the better. And we just look back at this time as a difficult period we managed to get through. If we leave this place, it will be the second home you left, Flat 19 was the first one, which you still remember and call old home and this one, which you call 36, would be the second one.
When we had bought this place we never imagined we will have to move so soon. We had thought this is where you will grow up. Your nursery was nearby. We had figured out a great primary school as well for you. And now everything is up in the air.
Anyway, that’s life. Nothing is permanent. Life keeps reminding us of that.
I still have little memories of the first house I lived in. We had moved when I was two years nine months old. Maybe you will have memories of 36 as well when you grow up. The living room on top with our little view onto the water, and where half of your toys reside including your big red car and little green baby slide and your tent and the “Google” where you like to watch your Daniel Tigers and Finny the Sharks and your number rhymes. Watering the plants with your Mamma on the little terrace. Playing cars up down in Amma Dadu room. Or sitting in babas work chair in the study pretending to work. Or maybe the place down the new steps where our blue car waits for us always.
**
You can count upto 100 now. And you also know some of the bigger numbers – like 200, 300 and so on. You have learnt a little simple subtractions – like 10-1=9. And a few simple spellings, like your name, bus, box, cat and a few others.
I think most parents secretly think (or wish) their kid is a genius and I’m no different. I feel very proud when you do these things. And a little bit more because I taught you a lot of these things. Your mom does other things – like taking you to library or to playdates with Karem. But she doesn’t have time for these other things and I love teaching you numbers and spellings.
In case they change later, let me write it here to remind you – the three year old Adi’s favourite shape is hexagon, colour yellow and number 7.
Taken from our bus trip to Edgecumb today. Mama is on her way to Canada for a conference. It was me, you, Amma and Dadu. A beautiful 1.5 hour double decker bus ride from Plymouth
Just finished work and came to bed. The little one has, inevitably, turned 90 degrees to the normal alignment of the bed and has taken up all the space, leaving only a slither for me to squeeze into.
He (and we) have given up on his cot ever since we returned from India this winter. He just sleeps with us (or more often one us, the other one sleeps on the folded up mattress in the other bedroom, or the futon in the study).
I don’t mind. In fact I quite enjoy the little hands and feet pushing against me. Or waking up in the middle of the night to find his head trying to snuggle into my arms or chest. Or little kicks trying to dislodge me from the bed.
He is a bit subdued today. He has a bit of cough and fever. Every time I hear him coughing in his sleep, I feel a kind of pain. I hope he gets well soon.
**
It’s been months since I have actually watched anything on Netflix. But after reading about it in a couple of places, decided to watch Adolescence. My wife and I watched it together over a couple of days during dinner.
It really struck a chord with us. Maybe even more because we are parents of a little boy. There are no villains in the piece. Just ordinary people you feel really sorry for..
**
I turned 43 today. Has is it been worth it? Sometimes I feel lucky to have been born. At other times life feels a bit overrated..But the presence of the little one by my side always manages to make me feel blessed.
Not the type I’m doing today. In seat 10A of the Embraer on the way from Bristol to Amsterdam for a work trip.
But the one I gave up after Adi was born..being in the cockpit..
I had never managed to become an actual full fledged pilot. Though I had got to a restricted license on the microlight and had accumulated about 10 hours solo on the C42 Ikarus.
Reg had made sure I cleared my exam..the theory and the practical. If we had stayed in Chelmsford I’m sure I would have continued. Maybe bought a part share in one of the fixed wing microlights at the club.
But we moved to Plymouth. I had to give up microlights. There was a gap and then I found Bodmin flying club.
I didn’t really like the Cessnas. But the Vans RV12 was just what I needed. A step up from the Ikarus . A light aircraft, not a microlight. I even got to one solo flight.
But then life took over. Adi was born. I could no longer afford to be away half a day on the weekend. And the money started pinching. So I have it up.
I think it was the right decision at that point..But I sometimes miss it. Especially when I am on a plane..Especially during the landing and the take off..especially if it’s a smallish plane. Like I’m doing today.
**
I loved the take offs. In a small plane, where you are in the pilots seat (and I have only flown two seaters so it’s always one of the pilots seat), when you open your throttle full and feel the plane race across the run way, there is a thrill and excitement, mixed with a bit of fear which you feel right in your stomach.
I loved that feeling. There was always a moment or two there where you felt one with the plane. It wasn’t you flying the plane. It was you and the plane flying together. Like some ancient Mongol riding into battle full speed on his horse.
And then there was a moment you could feel the plane straining at it’s leash..almost telling you it wants to get into air..and you holding back, till the second you let go and feel the lurch as you realise you are no longer on the ground.
**
After those initial bits, it’s almost normal again. You go back to mundane things. Climbing to a certain height before you withdraw flaps. Making sure your air speed is right and you are not about to stall. Going up to a certain height before you (usually) turn left and go to your counter clockwise circuit or go out of the circuit in a different direction.
This part didn’t really interest me that much..and I guess I wasn’t very good at it also..my circuits would never be the perfect rectangles Andy or one of the other instructors wanted. If my wife learnt flying this would probably be the part she is best at. She is a perfectionist. I’m not. I go by instinct..whether it’s parking cars or flying.
**
The bit I hated was the stalling practise. Perhaps hate isn’t the right word. If I was British I might have said I found it “interesting”. But I’m not so maybe I will go with – it made me uncomfortable.
I had never done this alone. And never on the microlight (maybe it was not in the syllabus, maybe Reg forgot)..
But we did it quite a bit in Bodmin. You basically went quite high so that if something did go wrong you had time to recover. And then kept pulling the stick back and raising the nose of the plane to mess up all the aerodynamics.
As you kept doing it, you could feel the plane not liking it. It will shudder and stutter and seem reluctant. And then at some point the stall alarm will start sounding – it’s not really a pleasant sound, it reminds you of all the movie plane crushes.
But you instructor is not ready to give up yet so he will ask you to keep pulling the stick back. Then suddenly the nose will drop and before you know it you would have lost a few hundred (if not more) feet of altitude within seconds and you now need to do the activity to come out of the stall, basically increasing airspeed so that the aerodynamics start working again and then correcting your attitude so they you are not heading towards the ground like an eagle catching a mouse.
I didn’t mind the recovery part. It was the awful anticipation of keeping pulling the stick back which I didn’t like. There was always a voice at the back of my head telling me don’t do it..what if you don’t recover for some reason..what happens if a wing falls of or something.
**
The landings are what I loved the most. Especially the final part of it, which was called, simply the finals..
It is basically when from your circuit you turn for the final time and see the runway straight ahead of you. From then on you need to manage three things – your height, your speed and your alignment to the runway.
If you are too high you will never manage to land or overshoot the runway. If you are too low you will fall short.
If you are too fast you might touch down and then bounce off again or not be able to stop and hit the fence at the far end (and maybe go into the next field and find yourself amongst some very startled sheep).
If you are too slow, your plane may stall and instead of on the runway you might find yourself in the hedges before it, or amongst another set of startled sheep.
And lastly, if you are not aligned properly, you might run off the runway and into the grass.
It’s like 3d chess where you need to do everything together and keep an eye on everything together. I loved it. And I think I was good at it..not in a calculating perfectionist sort of way but more a instinctive Luke Skywalker flying with his eyes closed feeling at one with the craft and letting the force guide him sort of way.
At the very last moment, just before touchdown, you lifted the nose so very gently to take the last bit of energy out of the bird and landed softly with a flop..And if you watch a seagull land, they do just that, a little bit of flare to land with a flair.
I loved the landings.
Maybe I will go back to it someday. Maybe Adi will read this someday and this will pique his interest and maybe he will have some experience of this wonderful experience just as his dad did.
In the meanwhile, we have just landed at Amsterdam Schiphol. It’s raining outside. I need to start thinking about getting to the hotel. So I will press publish without any further ado.
Invictus 