Rashmi's Space

Image:  Designed by Freepik "प्रिय पालक, तुमचा मुलगा जेवणाचा डबा न संपवता मधल्या सुट्टीत खेळायला जातो. बाईंनीं वर्गात थांबून डबा आधी संपवायला सांगितले तरीही ऐकत नाही. तरी आपण त्याला ताकीद करावी कि अशी वागणूक भविष्यात सहन केली जाणार नाही " बाईंनी चिट्ठी पाठवली. "मम्मी, सही करून देशील?" माझ्या लहानग्याने विचारलं. मी चिट्ठी वाचून त्याच्याकडे निरखून पाहिलं. माझ्या रंगवण्याची, ओरडण्याची, तो वाट पाहत होता. मी म्हटलं, " अरे, तुझ्या टीचर ने आधीच नंबर लावला कि! मीच तिला चिट्ठी लिहिणार होते खरं तर, कि माझ्या मुलाचा डबा अर्धवट घरी परत येतो, 'तरी प्लीझ तुम्ही लक्ष द्याल का, म्हणून!" एक मिनिट पूर्ण शांततेत गेला. आणि मग आम्ही दोघंही भरभरून हसलो!

Fathers are so important. No? Maybe some people may not agree with me when I say this. Because, after all, what is it that a father can do for his child that a mother cannot do? Right? I agree. A mother can do everything for the child, from providing for the child to nurturing the child in the best way possible. She doesn’t need a man to complete her, not in this day and age. No. But for a moment, let us come away from this man-woman debate and think in a different vein. Think of the fact that there’s no life without a father, literally as well as figuratively. Okay, if that is too cheeky, how about this: The mother gives birth. We all venerate the mother who undergoes insufferable pain to bring her child to life. But the father? Isn’t the father as invested in the baby as the mother is?      It is the mother that undergoes labour pains. She is the one who actually undergoes the entire birthing process. A physical pain beyond compare. But her world is...

“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 ...

मिस्टर सानेंनी हळू डोळे उघडले. खिडकीतून उन्हं येत होती. खाडकन जागे झाले. दुपार झाली कि काय! घड्याळ बघितल, हुश्श, आठच वाजतायेत! पण पुढच्याच क्षणी लक्षात आलं, आठ वाजले तरी किचन मधून काही आवाज येत नाहीयेत. आज तर गुरुवार, वर्किंग डे, एव्हाना किचन मधून आवाजच नव्हे तर तर-तर्हेचे वासही यायला हवेत. डबा तयार झाला असला पाहिजे, चहा तयार झाला आला पाहिजे. पण आज कसलीच हालचाल दिसत नाही! शेजारी पहिल तर मिसेस सानेही शेजारी नाहीत. काय भानगड आहे बुआ आज?   चष्मा चढवून मिस्टर साने बेडरूम मधून बाहेर आले. मिसेस सानेंचा घरात कुठेच पत्ता नव्हता! गेली कुठे  ही? मिस्टर सानेंनी सुनबाईंना विचारायच ठरवलं. पण श्वेता त्यांना कुठे दिसेना. इतक्यात, "गुडमॉर्निंग  बाबा!" म्हणत श्वेता जांभई देत बाहेर आली आणि त्यांच्या उत्तराची वाट न पाहता, तडक  "गुडमॉर्निंग आई" म्हणत किचन मध्ये गेली. मिस्टर साने तिला काही सांगणार इतक्यात,  "अहो बाबा, आई कुठेयत?" म्हणत पुन्हा बाहेर आली. एव्हाना तिची झोप पूर्णपणे उडाली होती. "माहित नाही बुआ, मला वाटलं तुला काही बोलली असेल..."   त्यांन...

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...

Aanya closed the nursery door as softly as possible and tiptoed to the kitchen. She drank a glass of tap water in one single gulp, filled another glassful and walked out to the living room sipping from it. She looked at the sprawling mess of toys that littered the living room floor and sighed. I need to clean up, she thought. But she also needed to sit down. Her legs, her back, practically her entire body was aching, after spending the whole day on her feet attending to her babies. Okay, I will sit down for just a couple of minutes, she decided, just a couple. The sofa had never felt so comfortable and she could feel her aching back groan with satisfaction when she placed the small cushions behind her as she sat. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed and tears welled up in her eyes. She brushed them off hastily. But this was a regular thing with her these days. She would find herself crying, without explanation, for the smallest, the most inconsequential things! And that wasn’t e...

“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.” ...