Shivam is all of three years - a well rounded personality, meant that more as a comment on his physical attributes than anything else :-) He's a hugely popular kid, especially among the female populace. They love tugging at his chubby cheeks, he hates it and makes his displeasure very evident, turning away haughtily, though I am sure that's an opinion he'll revisit 10 years down the line. His best friend is Rambo (Note: Anybody who agrees to play ball with him is a friend, the rest unworthy of his attention; exclusions are his Amma, Appa and Paati, also anyone who can tell a good Superman story) and his fav passtime is running aimlessly in the nearby park, chasing butterflies, or riding his tricycle like he owned the world.
And boy, can he talk - when he's not asking questions, he's regaling us with stories, his expressive face with quicksilver expressions of emotions renders words pointless. He has this endearing quality of asking a question, then looking at you with his clear deep eyes taking in your reply, turning it over in his head and then coming back with his next argument. If (and he rarely is) satisfied with your reply, his face will light up and he'll bestow u with a broad smile saying 'nee best'. But this same questioning kid has never questioned why Superman flies and the rest of us don't. Superman hero, Superman flies, Superman beats bad people, end of story. His dad is known to all as Shivam's dad and I suspect he's only too happy to lose his identity to his junior version.
Today was Shivam's first foray into the hallowed portals of learning. It was a momentous occasion for him - the learning aspect did not exactly interest him, the accompaniments did. He'd spent the whole of last week shopping - new uniform, Mickey Mouse bag, Pokemon water bottle, flourescent pink compass box with a Superman sticker, new raincoat, shoes, books, the list goes on - and he insists on prefixing a possessive 'my' to each one of 'em. He'll drag the items out of his wardrobe, display them proudly and declare - They had a Ninja bag but I like Mickey Mouse better, Appa refused the coloured shoes (thank heavens some sense prevailed), and so on it goes. His enthusiasm is infectious, u'd think he was off on some very important mission; well actually this is no less.
I was starting for office when Shivam stepped out, clad in his starched and ironed uniform, looking every inch the superhero he aimed to be when he grew up (In case u haven't figured out yet, he's a Superman fan). He waved importantly at the watchman and neighbours explaining - I am going to school. I tagged along, the school was a welcome diversion. Everything was fine till he reached the gates. That's when he realized something was not quite right - most of the kids were in various stages of breakdown. It is the same story every year - everything's fine, then one kid starts crying and the others follow in unison. You could picture his mind working at a furious pace - Amma and Appa had said school would be fun, but here u had kids crying and refusing to enter. Alarm bells went off in that lil head of his, his eyes taking in the imposing edifice standing before him, the ominous wrought iron gates, the teachers standing on the inside and his mom on the outside - the enemy lay within.
He finally decided to go with the majority opinion and shook his head resolutely, clutching at his mother's hand. She tried to reason with him - you'll make many new friends at school, the teachers are very helpful, no luck. Once he'd made up his mind, no one could make him change it. And when she threatened him, he first tried pleading with her (making a very strong case I must admit). When that failed, he played his ultimate trump card - his face fell, lips quivered and his bright eyes, which minutes before had shone with happiness, filled with tears and then the dam burst. He clung to his mom and cried - his tears feeding an imagined sense of isolation in a cruel adult world. Even the most stoic of guys have succumbed to his tears, lesser mortals like us didn't stand a chance.
By now, the teachers had decided it was time to step in. They talked to each of the kids, tempting them with colouring books and pencils. The tiny tots reluctantly allowed themselves to be led into the classroom. One of the teachers smiled at Shivam and said they would play games the first day and the winner would get a Tom and Jerry colouring book. The flow of tears slowed to a trickle, he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and ruminated over the offer. He was still not convinced this was not a ploy to lure him into the evil den. His mom prodded him a little, and thrust his hand into the teacher's. He stood for a full minute measuring the teacher mentally and decided to take up the offer. And so Shivam and his mom parted, but not before she had promised him that she'd wait outside the school for him to return.
His mother looked at me - the understanding was implicit, going back home was out of the question - the vision of her teary-eyed kid being led away would not afford her any peace till she saw him again. We had company, most of the parents had decided to stay back, some dads were on their cellphones, explaining that a family emergency had come up and they'd be late reaching office.
Two hours later the bell pealed, the din submerged by the joyous screams of kids pouring out of the classroom. Shivam ran into his mom's arms, shrugged away his bag, took a big gulp of water and began a dramatic explanation of the proceedings over the past 2 hours - I sit next to Karthik, we are good friends (in 2 hours?), the teacher is romba nice (+1), the big teacher (principal) asked our names, i drew an apple (this a blue coloured blob which resembled an alien in a Bollywood movie - Dali had competition), we played games, teacher told me good (ummm... but why?), i won a colour pencil - in short, he approved. A new phase of his life was beginning.
Back at office, a colleague called up to say he wouldn't be coming, personal problems he said. On a hunch I asked, Aryan's first day at school? He laughed sheepishly - yes, he's crying and refuses to go, he was fine till now. I smiled inwardly and tried to reassure him - He'll be fine, they adjust fast.
Right now, I am siting in the park listening to Pink Floyd's Another Brick in the wall, while Shivam, school forgotten, is back to doing what he does best - running down the length of the park and doing cartwheels squealing loudly, and there's Rambo trying to chase his own tail. Nice pair they make :-) Education and his parents' grand plans can wait, he's too busy enjoying life.
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