Rashmi's Space

“Don’t run on the lawn!” Meera looked up from her laptop. It was Sunday morning and while Meera caught up on her mails and other news, Pari, her niece, and Ayah, Pari’s caretaker-cum-nanny-cum-companion-cum-governess were in the garden. Ayah was pruning the roses, while Pari was jumping around the garden and playing in the shade of the orange trees lining the compound wall. All the time, trampling over the lawn that Ayah had freshly watered – hence, the reprimand. Meera smiled. Ayah was good for Pari. She ensured that the girl kept her head on her shoulders despite being a ‘gifted’ child of above average intelligence, who was ‘pampered’ and ‘spoilt silly’ (according to Ayah) by Meera. It felt just like yesterday – although it was almost close to nine years now – that Pari and Ayah had walked into Meera’s home, and her life. Meera’s sister had died giving birth to Pari. Pari’s father had never been around. And thus, Meera had become the sole legal guardian to her...

It was a weekday evening. I was outdoors with my little one. The sun was shining down brightly on us. We were both happy to be out in the open after being cooped up in the house for over a week when the little one had had his exams, and I had been fighting deadlines; not to mention the cold we had both been battling the past ten days. And so it was, that breathing in the fresh early evening air, we were both looking forward to our time out in the open! The little one had big plans of taking his bicycle for a spin. I was planning to take a good long walk on the greens around the apartment complex. He had his helmet and ipod on. I had my playlist ready on my phone. When we stepped out of the lift, we were greeted by the wonderful chirping of birds and a light breeze that was blowing just then. I took a big, deep breath. We bid each other goodbye, and my little one rode off on his bicycle in the direction opposite to the one I turned to, for my walk. All was right with the wor...

We are in a huge hall. Spacious, airy, with large open windows. The hall is divided into two parts. One part is meant for the spectators, who are mostly parents. The other part has four large anti-skid mats placed at a distance from each other. At the head of each mat, a little away, is a table with two chairs facing the mat. Towards one end of the hall is a stage which is set with a table and a few chairs. Certificates and large trays holding medals are placed to one side of this stage on a smaller table. At the back, hangs a large banner with the name of a Karate school, welcoming one and all to the District Level Karate Tournament. As spectators settle down, children gather at the other end of the hall, answer the roll call and settle down in the different batches they have been segregated into. Some of them are very young, with barely all the milk teeth in place. Some others are older. But their faces are similarly angelic to the younger ones, yet. And then there are ...

It is Saturday morning. Birds chirp as they sip water from the potted plants in the balcony that I have freshly watered just now. There is very less traffic on the road today as it is the weekend. I take my coffee and sit on the swing in my balcony that I rarely get to sit on. As I sip, I savour the bliss of this unhurried morning. I relish the calm, the silence. And I wonder – why aren’t my everyday mornings like this? Why is it only on Saturdays that I get to experience this beauty of the relaxed morning? And I sigh.   Because I know the answer to that question. I know, that every day, at this time, I am in the kitchen, rushing to get tiffin boxes of breakfast, lunch and snacks ready for my family – coming up with innovative ideas, worrying about portions and running against time to get it all packed and sealed for the day in the meal boxes that my family will carry with them for the long day ahead. Nutrition in bite sized pieces. That is what I am doing at this time on ...

When people ask me what I do, I tell them I am a blogger, a writer. The immediate next question, of course, is “what do you write?” And I say I write on positive parenting, among other things. So they say, oh great, a lot of people are writing about parenting these days, it makes for interesting reading. And I say, but I don’t just write about parenting, I write about positive parenting. There is a difference. (Which reminds me of an advert from my childhood: ____ hot and sweet tomato chilli sauce, its different!) Cheesy, I know, but it is true. There is a difference. All parenting is not positive parenting. But all positive parenting is definitely good parenting. Parenting There was a time when “parenting” was not a term most parents bothered about. Take a look at

“Wow Mum, this mango cake looks super cool!” the little one drooled. “Yep! But no touching! Let it cool first, then we’ll cut it into pieces and…” “And take pictures and post them on Instagram and on Facebook and then tweet about it and then we can eat, am I right?” he beamed! “What? No! Where is all this coming from?” I asked aghast! It wasn’t that I was not planning on taking some pictures of this lovely cake that had turned out so spongy and looked all alphonso-yellow and super moist! But hearing my little one say this as if this was the whole purpose of having baked the cake and not the fact that it was the last day of his vacation; was what hurt me. “But you do that all the time, Mum!” “Sweetheart, I have told you before, my job requires me to post regular updates on social media and my work is such that it has to be shared on these platforms so that it reaches a lot of people and they can appreciate it and share it further…” I was going all ...

This is a sponsored post for Hewlett Packard (HP) as part of their #ReinventMemories campaign and has first appeared on MyCity4Kids.com  “Why aren’t you talking to your mom?” I heard a whisper. “Because she is working, dodo!” this was my little one’s voice. It was a weekday afternoon and he had a friend over. While the boys watched TV and generally hung in the playroom, I was at my desk finishing up an article that was due soon. That is when I heard this conversation. I went and stood close to the playroom door and tried to hear further. “What do you mean she is working? She is at home isn’t she?  My  mom works! She leaves in the morning and gets back only in the night.” “My mom works all day too!” my little one chirped. “What does she do?” his friend wanted to know. “My mom is a writer. She writes articles and stories. I also write stories. I even illustrate them, like Quentin Blake did for Roald Dahl. Only, in my case, I am the one...

“Mum, I want rasam to drink.” the little one declared. “Sure, give me ten minutes, will give you. But why rasam? Are you feeling a cold coming on?” I asked worried. “No, no, I just felt like it. Just for the taste.” he said nonchalantly. I stood in the kitchen, trying to come to terms with the fact that my little one, who has till now never asked for rasam specifically, in fact, who has even refused to have rasam whenever I have offered it to him as a cold or cough remedy, was suddenly asking me for this concoction, no demanding it just for the taste! And even as I was still taking this in, I heard him go out and speak to his Dad. “I am having rasam before dinner Dad, would you like some too? I can tell Mum to make for you as well…” he asked his father. “Sure! Go ahead,” the father happily replied. So in walked my little one again to deliver the order for one more bowl of rasam and as he went out, his father asked him “You like rasam, is it?” “Yes.” ...

"Mum, do you know the f-word?" asked my little one the other day. "Do you  know it?" I asked him in return. "Of course I do, and I also know the s-word!" he told me smugly, before he was (thankfully) distracted by something on the TV; leaving me to thank my stars that I did not have to go any deeper in that discussion today. Phew! You know, I am often asked by people to recommend books for their children of various ages and in various genres; and I am more than happy to help. I have always enjoyed reading since my childhood and I am only too happy to help others enjoy this wonderful habit too. And what is really heartening, is to see parents being diligent and concerned that their children only read age-appropriate books, preferably classics, by well-heeled authors; and most importantly, with very less or absolutely no swear words. But as delightful as it is to recommend a lovely book; I wish parents also asked for recommendations about o...

हम में से शायद ही कोई होगा जिसने बचपन में ये दाँट ना खाई हो। बच्चों के अलावा हर किसी को लगता   है की राय सिर्फ़ बड़ों की पूछी जानी चाहिए। बच्चों से क्या पूछना ? बच्चे तो बहुत छोटे होते हैं , उन्हें क्या पता ? बच्चों का काम है खेल कूद करना , पढ़ाई करना , वक़्त पर खाना खाना , और माँ बाप को बिना परेशान किए " अच्छे बच्चे " बनकर रहना। बस। ये कोई नहीं सोचता की शायद उनके भी कुछ समझ में आता होगा , शायद वो भी कुछ सुझाव दे सकें जो वाक़ई में बड़े काम के हों ... पर ना साहब , हम बड़े , और ख़ासकर हम से भी बड़े , सिर्फ़ इतना मानकर चलते हैं की बच्चों को अनुबव काम होनेसे उनमें सूझ बूझ , परिपक्वता हो ही नहीं सकती ! अब पिछले हफ़्ते की ही बात ले लीजिए। हम छुट्टियों के बाद बंबई से लौट रहे थे और हम लैंडिंग के बाद हमारे समान की प्रतीक्षा कर रहे थे। हमारे साथ हमारे काफ़ी सह प्रवासी भी इस इंतज़ार में थे कि कब समान आए और कब वे निकले घर ...