My dad always said children are like blank slates. Their minds can absorb everything they observe or are taught like sponges. That is the mash up of tabula rasa and Maria Montessori's philosophy making its way through the muddied waters of my memory. (Look Up Reminder to Self: Is this compulsive, flowery alliteration tied to cortical deficits in any specific brain area?)
But I saw a reassuring article which assuaged my acid reflux inducing guilt for neglecting the education of my children. I am a Desi mom. How did I abandon my purpose in life? "Mata Nirmaata Bhavati" How in the world did I let my spawn sputter around, get them hooked on Netflix? Good kids don't waste time playing. Good kids always read. They Spell, they Math, they Code, they Chess. They have elephantine memories in which are stored ancient chants and sa re ga ma pa winning song lyrics. Good kids break boards in karate, make round rotis ( if they are female), do the 108 dances of India and speak 25 different world languages. Well they get their PhD's before they learn how to get their bottoms clean.
All I did today was sit a screaming kid who wanted candy at the football field in the car; This was after he had the sootiest hands sliding down the ramps in the skate park; Then we went walking in the dark woods (on a sidewalk, that was an important detail) with a glow-in-the dark balloon. Then we looked at a gibbous moon through the treetops with the young one hauled up in my arms; No going into the real dark deep woods though where there were no lights.
Then I stopped the car next to a constantly disturbed plot of land which abounds with wildflowers in summer. It gets burned out every few weeks by a builder who must be running out of money before he can do anything more. I stopped the car because he did not want me to sing. But all I did was sing what I wanted to which ended up being the saddest Meera Bhajan ever "Karuna Suno". When I got home, we watched Hema Malini at her most serene as Gulzar's Meera while Roti and broccoli fed the bellies. The older one gravitated to the music and the narrative I kept up. He is a sucker for good stories. The colorful visuals of Rajasthan, the beauty of Hema Malini and an interactive story to go along. It was a moment that warmed my Maata heart complex.
Meera is sad because she misses her friend "Krishna" "Can you see how sad she is?" Kid 1 asks"Is that the Evil King? Why is he so angry?" Here goes my first feminist salvo of the day " In those days they didn't want any woman to go around by herself, singing or dancing" "She is going to get punished for not following the rules. She has run away now from her palace which was full of good things - like toys and candy? "Yes, but she gave it all up and went searching for her friend" " She is singing a happy song now"
"See she is happy now" "Even Miya Taansen is singing with her"
"What is with all the waterfalls and rivers? (There is a river or some water body in almost every song) "Wow that's how she crosses the river in a wagon" "I saw that in Oregon Trail" "See all those people following her who see she is singing so sadly. Where is she going? Oh she is going into that burned out temple with an idol of the dark Krishna" "Wow! Look She has gone poof, she has vanished"
Ok I did start with the last one first which actually held their interest. But that is the longest the kids have ever gone listening to the same songs as me. Of course there were yelps for putting Netflix on but they faded away under Meera's spell. The current pulp fiction book ( Descendants of Immortals) I am reading would put it "They are the product of my choices as much as their own" So no to the 3R's today.
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