It was a holiday today, and yes, holidays have become precious in my life. Even more so after joining a private company. Today, the free day was counting more as J is having summer vacation and in her words, "I am really really looking forward to a day with mamma at home, and I will not go to the day care."
Unlike Europe where the May day started as beginning of spring and then eventually became a symbolic day dedicated to workers, May 1 in India is in the middle of summer. Yes spring in Indian calendars finishes around 15th of April and now we are into the season of summer.
Summer meaning raw and ripened mangoes, season of making pickles out of them, season of drinking several kinds of drinks, be it sweet or tangy lassi (with mango off course) or water melon-juice or our good old lemonade.
Summer also means Flame of forest trees (Hindi - Gulmohar, Bengali - Krishnachura) lined on the side of the melting tar roads or corner of a street or close to a bungalow or near a pond in a small village, mostly in their red attire and some in bright yellow. The view of these red trees used to haunt me during the summer days of my expat life. Now I see them every day and don't even bother to click a photo. I guess I would be taking photos if like IHM, a Gulmohar tree were there near my window and not a mango tree.
So, J made an elaborate time table which was like;
Watching a movie with mamma,
Learning about art work of Picasso with mamma,
Baking cake with mamma and so on.
She was singing loudly in her nonsensical style, something she does when she is really really happy.
On seeing her schedule, I looked at my office laptop from the corner of my eyes and then let it stay there resting for the day.
Also, I needed to stop my urge to sit with her Hindi or Mathematics school work today. So, I told her to create an ambience for watching movie while I will just check my mails. She called her friend and asked whether she could join us. A lucky yes was the answer! Joyfully J prepared three glasses of Tang mango drink. Yes, now a days, she can make glasses of lemonade or powder based juices on her own. She knows how many spoons of sugar to add. Sometimes the crystals of sugar are remain visible at the bottom till you finish the drink,, I comment, "More stirring will be required next time J, but this time the drink was a marvel." Her face beams with sparkle. Naive dream for appreciation becomes so clear in her 8 year old baby face.
We watched the movie, her friend had brought a bowl of chips too! So it was a feast.
Had a quick lunch of no specialities, but we enjoyed it thoroughly as this was not a weekend and still we were having a family lunch-a luxury that we all appreciated.
Well, when at home just after lunch I become a devil for need of an afternoon nap, J is complete contrast to that. She hates afternoon sleep, as if she will miss something from life if she does that. We have agreed on each other's habit now, after many years of discussion and arguments.
So J let me have a small nap and reminded me of cake baking scheduled in her time table.
I dozed off with a Bengali magazine in my hand.
J called her friend again, for baking time. They have become quite good at it now. I just stayed in the back ground for setting the oven temperature and so on. They did most of the work and licked the batter-layered spoons with satisfactory yumminess. After enjoying the cake, they ran down for some fresh air and catching up with other friends.
A book on Picasso, is still lying there, we have read it many times, and I have started understanding something which I always stamped as very difficult, but just after reading this book with J, I felt actually no one or never I tried to understand his works before. We wanted to draw and paint like any of his work, but that might need to wait for next day of togetherness as time is ticking by.
Art appreciation was not part of our growing up. Being Bengali we were bound to learn about Rabindranat Tagore, Jamini Roy or Ramkinkar Baij, Ravishankar but very little was told to us about international artists and their works. Off course my mother didn't have google! So what ever aesthetic senses she offered to me was genuinely hers and not copied and pasted. She is an excellent interior
Just now, when I am writing this blog, J is in her room, venturing on her own in her art and craft stuff, books and other things, she is in her own world of imagination. She is happy and calm.
This was a good day of togetherness and we will be waiting for one more such day in near future.
Unlike Europe where the May day started as beginning of spring and then eventually became a symbolic day dedicated to workers, May 1 in India is in the middle of summer. Yes spring in Indian calendars finishes around 15th of April and now we are into the season of summer.
Summer meaning raw and ripened mangoes, season of making pickles out of them, season of drinking several kinds of drinks, be it sweet or tangy lassi (with mango off course) or water melon-juice or our good old lemonade.
Summer also means Flame of forest trees (Hindi - Gulmohar, Bengali - Krishnachura) lined on the side of the melting tar roads or corner of a street or close to a bungalow or near a pond in a small village, mostly in their red attire and some in bright yellow. The view of these red trees used to haunt me during the summer days of my expat life. Now I see them every day and don't even bother to click a photo. I guess I would be taking photos if like IHM, a Gulmohar tree were there near my window and not a mango tree.
So, J made an elaborate time table which was like;
Watching a movie with mamma,
Learning about art work of Picasso with mamma,
Baking cake with mamma and so on.
She was singing loudly in her nonsensical style, something she does when she is really really happy.
On seeing her schedule, I looked at my office laptop from the corner of my eyes and then let it stay there resting for the day.
Also, I needed to stop my urge to sit with her Hindi or Mathematics school work today. So, I told her to create an ambience for watching movie while I will just check my mails. She called her friend and asked whether she could join us. A lucky yes was the answer! Joyfully J prepared three glasses of Tang mango drink. Yes, now a days, she can make glasses of lemonade or powder based juices on her own. She knows how many spoons of sugar to add. Sometimes the crystals of sugar are remain visible at the bottom till you finish the drink,, I comment, "More stirring will be required next time J, but this time the drink was a marvel." Her face beams with sparkle. Naive dream for appreciation becomes so clear in her 8 year old baby face.
We watched the movie, her friend had brought a bowl of chips too! So it was a feast.
Had a quick lunch of no specialities, but we enjoyed it thoroughly as this was not a weekend and still we were having a family lunch-a luxury that we all appreciated.
Well, when at home just after lunch I become a devil for need of an afternoon nap, J is complete contrast to that. She hates afternoon sleep, as if she will miss something from life if she does that. We have agreed on each other's habit now, after many years of discussion and arguments.
So J let me have a small nap and reminded me of cake baking scheduled in her time table.
I dozed off with a Bengali magazine in my hand.
J called her friend again, for baking time. They have become quite good at it now. I just stayed in the back ground for setting the oven temperature and so on. They did most of the work and licked the batter-layered spoons with satisfactory yumminess. After enjoying the cake, they ran down for some fresh air and catching up with other friends.
A book on Picasso, is still lying there, we have read it many times, and I have started understanding something which I always stamped as very difficult, but just after reading this book with J, I felt actually no one or never I tried to understand his works before. We wanted to draw and paint like any of his work, but that might need to wait for next day of togetherness as time is ticking by.
Art appreciation was not part of our growing up. Being Bengali we were bound to learn about Rabindranat Tagore, Jamini Roy or Ramkinkar Baij, Ravishankar but very little was told to us about international artists and their works. Off course my mother didn't have google! So what ever aesthetic senses she offered to me was genuinely hers and not copied and pasted. She is an excellent interior
Just now, when I am writing this blog, J is in her room, venturing on her own in her art and craft stuff, books and other things, she is in her own world of imagination. She is happy and calm.
This was a good day of togetherness and we will be waiting for one more such day in near future.
Free day is a beautiful day
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