The friend who I almost didn't make, thanks to my bookish ways!

I knew her in real life, but had no idea I did.

I discovered Sangitha Krishnamurthi's blog through another blogger friend, Choxbox. For many, many months, I would visit her blog, read, and be inspired. Here was a person who loved books, and wrote about so many interesting things - things I probably would not have mused on had it not been for my having read about them here. Special children. Adoption. Rights of the marginalized. And much more. I would read, but rarely comment. I didn't know enough of the things she spoke about. I didn't, also, know how my comments would be taken. I was fairly new to the blogworld, focusing more on my beloved books and the reviewing of them.

Now, she had a pup, Loopy, who had some health problems, and she wanted to find a good vet - her then vet not measuring up to expectations. I extended a very hesitant hand - I knew of a friend who had recently spoken of her dog's vet in glowing terms. What followed was a proper comedy of errors that is worth reading, one that has led to a lasting friendship.

But the best was yet to come. We decided to meet up at her place. 'We' were Choxbox, Starry (both of whom I knew well personally), Sangi, and myself. Plus all the kids. Choxbox had told me that Sangi's kids went to the same school as ours, but I could not for the life of me place her. Both she and I were super curious about each other's identity, and were really looking forward to meeting up. When I went there, I was stunned. This was a lady with whom I had stood outside the school all through the past few years, waiting for our kids. We had spoken a few times, but never really got into a conversation, mostly because I would be there with my nose in a book! She, too, had wondered about me. Since she had heard about me from Choxbox, she had narrowed down her conjectures to two of the school mothers - both of us, actually, already Choxbox's friends.

I am infinitely thankful for having her in my life. She is the most generous person I have ever known, giving generously of her time, energy, attention, presence, also of anything material. (Books!) She has kept me on my toes when I slip up, become lax about things, my writing included. I think of a karmayogi whenever I read the stuff she writes - do, without bothering about the returns. Be honest in your efforts. The rewards could come to in most unexpected ways.

She has always been with me since - celebrating all my ups with me, holding my hand through all my downs, standing by me whenever I needed, giving generously of her time and energy, caring about what happens in my life, but always showing me the mirror. Telling me as it is.

Which is what friendship is all about, I suppose.

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This is my entry for the Pay it Forward Blogathon on Women's Web.

Standing up...kid style

There has been a lot of standing up for oneself and setting of boundaries that I have been reading about at Starry's blog. Made me think a lot about my own behaviour in the matter.

I had been quite a militant feminist in my teen years. Somewhere along the way, I have morphed into a closet feminist. Somehow got stuck in a rut of my comfort zone. Have been taking baby steps towards getting out of it, but not sure how long I shall take to get even close to getting there. I owe it to my child.

So the child is growing older and needing help dealing with peer interaction. As always, we turn to books- our best friends.

Last year, the tooth fairy (oh, yes, we still believe in those, and Santa, a la The Polar Express) got A a book that she has thoroughly enjoyed. It has been her constant companion over the past year, given that peer interaction is becoming more and more important. Thanks to her petite built and a possibly outdated interest in books and such, she is often the target of those who think they know better. As parents, we keep talking to her about it whenever an 'incident' happens, even stressing on the fact that every person is special in their own way, and that a lot of what those girls say doesn't become true even if it feels like that. That she has so many wonderful gifts that a lot of those girls do not have. That she just needs to ignore most of that behaviour. And at times, stand up for herself and what she thinks is right.

So when she came across this book on amightygirl.com, the tooth fairy thought it would be good thing to get her.

pic courtesy amightygirl.com

Stand Up For Yourself  & Your Friends
Written by Patti Kelley Criswell
Illustrated by Angela Martini
Published by American Girl Publishing
Ages 8+

We begin by defining bullying. It can be many things, but it is mostly about power. And not all bullies are the stereotypical big, tall, loud, intimidating person. Think Miss Agatha Trunchbull from Matilda. Oh, no, they come in different packages, and at one time or another, any one of us could bully someone else.

The book then goes on to deconstruct the politics of bullying as it occurs, and the strategies to handle it. It is peppered with real incidents reported by real girls, the way they handled it, and a lot of expert-speak on each incident. There are short, snappy, two-page chapters on each topic, with full colour illustrations.

There are also many quizzes the reader can take, like 'Is this bullying?' on identifying which behaviours would qualify as bullying, 'What's your speak-up style?' on how you would deal with a given situation and 'What do you stand for?' on your beliefs about friendship. The very practical and easy to apply tips by experts and kids themselves make for a much appreciated 'cool' factor. Or at least I have been informed so by the kid, who dips into the book often for inspiration.

There is also plenty for the bewildered adult who might be the bystander, the authority figure who may have to tackle a potentially explosive situation, or the parent who has to deal with either end of the bullying episode- the bully or the victim. Much that can be used by the adult in their own interaction with power struggles among their peers too.

A book that can be applied at all levels, with sound strategies that can be extrapolated to situations even beyond the scope of the book. And even though I place it at 8+, younger children can benefit from it too- as more and more, these things happen at a younger age in today's world.

The book has an accompanying journal that I'm sure the tooth fairy is currently considering. A journal full of quizzes, checklists and charts that I'm sure the child will enjoy working on with her own experiences.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

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And while on the topic of standing up - here is my review on Women's Web of Warrior in a Pink Sari- an autobiographical account of Sampat Pal and her Gulabi Gang.

As I contemplate writing my 200th post...

...I think of all the things that have changed for me since I began blogging. It hasn't all been plain sailing: there have been many hiccups, but I've recovered, dusted off, and continued from where I had left off.

I have indulged in my first love- reading and writing- something that had almost been eclipsed by the passing of time and the nitty-gritties of everyday life.

I have re-visited many childhood favourites, some that I had almost forgotten about, and others that I just had to dust the surface of.

I have found another way of connecting with my fast-growing and book-discerning daughter. I had always read to her and with her through all these years...my blogging about the books we enjoy together has made me something of a hero in her eyes. Something that I'll always be thankful for and cherish.

Not just her, my nephews- my siblings' sons, to whom I was 'just the pesky aunt that visits every year', have of late been looking at me through new, respectful, eyes. It is almost as if I had suddenly become worth taking seriously. They're tweens, too: grown-ups begin to become persona non-grata beginning now. How refreshing for things to look the other way! Of course, I have to thank my ruminations about Harry Potter for that.

I have found new and wonderful friends past my 40s. Choxbox, Sangi, Starry, Veena, Zoe, the Saffrontree gang specially the mad momma, utbtkids, Artnavy, Vibha, Ranjani, Sheela and Arundhati. There are many others - bloggers and non-bloggers, both- Swapna, Subhashree, Suranga, Abha, Shankari (where are you?), Monika, IHM, R's Mom, TGND, Shruti, Simran, Rashmi, Aparna, Padmini,...some of whom I've met and others whom I've only ever interacted with online. Any names that I may have missed- consider yourself tagged. All of you have enriched my life in your own special way. Some of you have been pillars of strength when I needed it- you know who you are.

I've participated in some fun activities and competitions online, notable of which are the Tulika blogathons. Won some, lost some. A prestigious award on IHM's blog- this is something I cherish.

I've been a participant and raised my voice in some awesome drives- Child Sexual Abuse Awareness Month and Violence Against Women Awareness Month. One may call it armchair activism, but even that has its uses: and if that is all I can contribute, that is what I will.

You will find my work (other than this blog) at Saffrontree (my online family), Book Reviews, Zealot Readers, Women's Web and Mom's Diaries. Maybe in a small way at each place, but it's me.

I read the writing of all the aforementioned friends, and some more, as also the awesome stuff shared by every one of them. All of which has slowly pulled me out of the deep well I was in. I've learnt a lot from all of them, and hope to continue learning. My reading also has gone places, much more than it would have if I had  been just a reader.

I've challenged myself now and again, and have loved the experience. My writing, too, has evolved over the past two-and-a-half years, and I see the road opening in front of me.

Wish me luck as I end this 200th post. Looking forward to many more such posts where I can interact with like-minded friends. For you guys make it all worthwhile.

One more prize...

...won for an article on Womensweb. This was for their Friendship Story writing theme.

*gleefully browsing flipkart for a book to spend the Rs 200 gift voucher on*

Here's the article in full.


She did not have any friends who stayed near her house. Not a single school friend, nor anyone near her age, or sharing her interests. There were just her younger brothers, who according to her, were brats not to be seen around with.

At least, there were the cousins, who stayed a few buildings away. Something was better than nothing, so she decided they’d do, to hang around with. The cousins had a neighbour, an only child. This girl, a few years younger, latched herself onto her, becoming the proverbial Mary’s lamb!

They had nothing in common, not even their interests, but something clicked. Over the years, as the two girls grew up, the reasons for hanging out with the cousins dwindled, and those for spending evenings with the younger girl increased. They became a twosome and shunted the cousins out.

As the two friends grew up into adulthood, the natural gap of 7-odd years between them began to close. They were women, with totally different destinies, totally different career trajectories, but with complete understanding of each other’s minds. Life happened, and they lived in widely separated places, different time zones, even.

They were as different as chalk and cheese in their family lives as well, which could not have intersected at any points except the one which they both overlapped at. Their husbands never met each other, not by design, but just by chance. They each knew their wife’s friend well though, and each was always welcome to the other’s home.

Over two decades, they met maybe once or twice a year, but every time they met, it was as if they had never been apart. Each intuitively knew if the other was in any kind of trouble or difficulty, and it would be an eerie coincidence that they would try to contact each other just when a friend was needed.

Despite never being able to attend the major events in each other’s lives, they have been able to remain clued in to each other’s triumphs and troubles. If needed, one just has to reach out to find the other right there.

I am the older girl of the two, and this is the story of my friend M and me. A friendship between two completely dissimilar personalities, which has simply endured on love, loyalty, trust and understanding – through thick and thin.

Of friends and books

Spent Valentine's day lunching with friends- Choxbox, Sangi and Starry, who have somehow over the period of the past two years metamorphosed from blog-pals to dear friends. Who know me. Who I know will not refrain from pushing me to do what I should be doing, what is right. Keep at it, ladies. Thanks for believing enough in me to nag. Much appreciated. I need it so much to overcome my inertia.

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February 14th was also the International Book Giving Day, a day to pass on new & used books to friends, relatives, strangers, your schools, libraries, or a favourite charity. Pass on the love of reading and books. A perfect day to celebrate. Check out what one of my favourite book bloggers, Zoe, did for this day.

Me? I gave a copy of one of my favourite Enid Blyton books, House at the Corner, to a very special boy. This book is partially autobiographical, as Blyton has taken many situations from her own experience of childhood in a dysfunctional family. The closest she has come in her fiction to her reality. This relatively unknown book by her is a must-read for anyone who enjoys her work.

I have also put together quite a few books to give away to A's school library.

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Here's to friends- those that we choose to be with- with two books having very different potrayals of friendship.

When I asked A to recommend the first book that came to her mind about friends and friendship, she promptly said- "Winnie-the-Pooh."

Contrary to the image of Pooh Bear, the Bear of Very Little Brain, as the fiefdom of very small children (no thanks to the Disney version of Pooh), Pooh belongs to everyone from 0-adulthood.

Winnie the Pooh / The House at Pooh Corner

Written by A. A. Milne

Illustrated by E. H. Shepard

Published by Puffin / Dutton books

Ages: 4+ read-aloud, 8+ read-alone

These stories are a labour of love- written by an indulgent father for his son Christopher Robin Milne, and featuring his collection of toys. I'm sure most parents would have at some point in time made up stories for their own children, with them featuring large in them.

As variegated a collection of friends as possible, staying in the wonderfully named Hundred-Acre-Wood. Muddleheaded Pooh with just one thing on his mind- food. A scaredy-cat Piglet, who can be the most courageous at times. A very Bouncy Tigger, who makes everyone want to 'unbounce' him at times. Rabbit, who can take his workaholic and irritating ways to limits at times, but has his heart in the right place. Wise Owl, who everyone goes to when in need of some timely help. Kanga- affectionate, yet a stickler for discipline- the perfect mother figure. Grumpy Eeyore, who seems dry on the outside, but a softie inside. Roo- the littlest one of the lot, who gets into many scrapes with the irrepressible Tigger.

A. A. Milne, though, contrary to what the books lead us to believe, was not a hands-on father to his son. He was usually absent from active bringing up of the boy, and the tales he has woven were around Christopher's escapades that his mother would narrate to her husband. If the stories are so wonderful, imagine how much more so they would have been, if Milne were to be physically there to take part in these.

A case for a father's involvement in child-care! 

A suggestion- by all means, watch the Disney versions, but read the books to enjoy the gentle humour and wonderful characterisation. There is no substitute.

Lord of the Flies

Written by William Golding

Published by Faber & Faber

Ages: 15+

A chillingly dystopian book, whose writer, William Golding was awarded the Nobel prize for literature.

Set during WW2, a plane carrying children evacuating to a safe place crashes on an unknown island. The pilot, the only adult, is killed. The children are left to fend for themselves. What begins as an adventure (reminding one eerily of the Enid Blyton adventures where only children feature) slowly but relentlessly descends into a primitive desire for power and survival.

None of the children, except those in a choir group, have ever met each other before. Unlikely friendships are forged; those seemingly most like each other ending up bitter enemies, not even stopping at murder. Again, a diverse group of characters, who bond and repel in the most unexpected ways. With echoes of the cat-eat-rat mentality seen in many of today's children. Friendships gone wrong. Survival of the fittest.   

Image courtesy flipkart. Crossposted at Saffrontree.    

A tale of two friendships

Sometimes, some friendships take a life of their own, don't they?

A had a 'best friend' at school in the early primary years, and the two girls were inseparable, though as different as chalk and cheese in temperament, interests and disposition. They were in the same class for 3 years, and we had innumerable playdates together. Sometimes I would just drop A off at her place on a weekend to spend the day. AM, the friend, has pet rabbits and lovebirds, and A, starved for a pet of her own, (sorry, baby, this is one thing that you will have to grow up and have for yourself.) would have a lovely time. Sometimes AM's mother would drop her off at our place. Sometimes I would take the two girls with me for some outing- a visit to our library being among the most enjoyed- followed by lunch at whichever place the girls wanted.

AM has a twin who is a special child. A lovely boy, he became someone very special for A. Every time we met, A would spend some time holding his hand, talking to him, and he, too, would always have a smile for her.

AM's mother S and I have become close friends. We have a lot in common - a similar educational background, and we are also both SAHMs inspite of it, and a lot of mutual affection.  S is a woman I really admire. She has had a lot on her plate, but her enthusiasm for life is to be seen to be believed. Of course there is sorrow in her life, but as she puts it, she has been blessed to be chosen as the mother of this soul.

Last year, the two girls were in different classes. Somehow the trajecteries of their friendships and interests have skewed away from each other. AM has become a part of the in-crowd, and A has gone further along the route to be labelled a 'nerdy' child.

There have been many instances where I have had to comfort a bewildered and hurt A, who could not understand what had happened to her 'best friend' AM. Where had she gone? Obviously the girls were both growing up, losing bit-by-bit that innocence of childhood. Making different choices. It saddened me to see it happening.

We did, however, continue to make trips out together with the girls, and at these times, we could see the original friendship still there beneath all the problems that they were having.

A, in the meantime, had another friend, someone so well suited to her- their temperaments and interests coincided. They are both book-mad. Their mothers, too, both gelled. Again, they had a lot in common, books featuring at the top of the list. Both pairs of friends got on like a house on fire. I could see that this was going to be a friendship for life. But...

Yes, there is a but. This friend, too, moved away. Not mentally, like AM, but physically, to another school. A was heart-broken. Everyday, she would speak about this friend. Every time she read something she loved, she would want to talk to her. We do manage occasional meetings, but somehow it is never enough.

The two different pairs of mothers, though, still remain friends. Their bond, too, I hope, is for a lifetime.

Yesterday, we had planned a trip to a kitchen gardening workshop, Oota from your Thota. A wanted to ask AM if she could come, so we called. That is when we came to know that her twin had been seriously ill for a few days, and was still in hospital, though fortunately recovering.

That was it. We put our plans for the day aside, as A wanted to go and meet her friend and her twin, as did I. So we went.

I hope SOMEONE UP THERE is aware of my little one's golden heart, and will not let it be hurt so often.

And for some hypnotic magic: Molly Moon

This is a fun book that was recently recommended to us by Choxbox's FB, and we were thrilled to realise that we had picked it up at the recent Strand book sale. There's a picture at the bottom of this post.

Pic courtesy flipkart

MOLLY MOON'S Incredible Book of Hypnotism
Written by Georgia Byng
Published by Macmillan Children's Books
Ages 8-12 yrs

Hardwick House, the decrepit orphanage where Molly, our 10 yr old heroine lives, is a Dickensonian place, owned and run by the mean and spiteful Miss Adderstone and Edna, the equally mean and spiteful cook whose cooking is horrible. There are other bullies, too, the older children who make life extremely difficult for the younger ones.

Molly, too, is no angel, and often gets into trouble because of her lazy and stubborn ways, although she is good to those younger than her. Her only friend is Rocky, a boy at the orphanage, who has a calming personality, the one person who can motivate Molly and keep her from getting into trouble.

Then everything goes further wrong one day when Rocky is taken away by an American couple who want to adopt him, and he goes away without saying goodbye. Molly's one support in her short life is gone.

Just when things begin to look very bad indeed, Molly finds a book on hypnotism in the library. She 'borrows' it, and learns the art by following the very clear instructions in the book. What follows is an out-and-out fantasy that any 10 yr-old might have and thoroughly enjoy.

We have Molly winning a talent show, and using her winnings to travel all the way to New York, with Petula, the pug belonging to Miss Adderstone who is now hypnotised into loving Molly. In New York, along the way to finding Rocky, she becomes a huge star, which draws her into the clutches of Simon Nockman, a crook out to use her talents for big-time robbery.

How does it all end? Since the fantastical seems to escalate? Well, you have to read the book to find out. The narrative is just as hypnotic, and both A and I read it at one go, unable to put the book down. Things do resolve, and a lot of good lessons are learnt. All around. Molly and the reader included. While having a good laugh as we read.

The book reminded me of Mathilda by Roald Dahl, another book about an extraordinary little girl belittled by her own parents and bullied by the monstrous school headmistress, Miss Agatha Trunchbull, and who uses her magical powers to teach her a lesson.

A loved this one, and we will be looking out for the sequels, Molly Moon stops the world, Molly Moon's hypnotic time-travel adventure, Molly Moon Micky Minus and the time machine and Molly Moon and the morphing mystery. They all sound delicious.

Crossposted at Saffrontree.

Review- On My Honor

Pic courtesy goodreads.com

On My Honor
Written by Marion Dane Bauer
Published by Yearling books, an imprint of Random House Children's books.
Ages: 8-12, 12+

Peer pressure. Everyone faces it, children more so. It looms large in their small world, often leading to literally life-and-death situations.

Twelve year old Joel and Tony are 'best friends', very different in temperament, often squabbling and bickering, but inseparable.

Tony- exuberant, fun-loving, risk-taking, with a devil-may-care attitude. Joel, the more cautious of the two, introspecting, sensitive to undercurrents in a situation, a foil for Tony.

On the way to a cliff-climbing trip, (which Joel had earlier tried to wriggle out of, hoping his father would not give him permission to go), the irrepressible Tony had decided he wanted to go swimming in the river instead. The turbulant, treacherous Vermillion river, known for its rapids. Inspite of having promised his father 'on his honor', that he would not do anything dangerous, Joel falls for the bait when Tony accuses him of being over-cautious.

"Sometimes, Bates, you sound just like your old man."
Joel could feel the heat flooding his face. "What's wrong with that?"
" 'Be careful in that tree, son,' " Tony mimicked, " 'you might get hurt. Watch Bobby when he crosses the street. Those drivers never pay any--' "
Joel had been moving closer to Tony as he spoke, and now he gave him a hard shove.

Tony keeps needling Joel, driven by bravado and dare-devilry, goading him to challenge Tony to a swimming race to a sandbar a hundred yards away. With terrible consequences.

Peer pressure. Wanting to fit in. Misplaced confidence. A sense of being indestructible. A devil-may-care attitude. Inability to lose face. Unwillingness to be perceived as a 'coward' when being just sensible and careful. A recipe for disaster?

Marion Dane Bauer has written a fast-paced, racy, but sensitively told story based on a real incident that happenned in the town where she grew up, at the very same place as described in the book. A very short, 90 page book that is very hard-hitting.

Bauer's potrayal of Joel's effort to get out of what is very clearly a fool-hardy venture, without losing face- first hoping that his father would not give his permission, then trying to make Tony see sense is very realistic. It happens ever so often in our own kids' peer-group. The disaster comes on unexpectedly, chillingly, with everything else seemingly the same, unchanged.

The potrayal of Joel's survivor guilt is heart-wrenching. The disbelief, denial, anger, dissociation, grief, a desire to hide, not face the parents, an obsessive 'washing-off of the stench of the river', are powerfully written. It helps, that his father is understanding, trying to help him let go of the paralysing, mind-numbing grief.

The wracking sobs flowed out of him like water.
His father held him for a long time, saying nothing, until Joel's tears came without sound and his breaths were quivering gasps. Even then, his father held him.
"Do you believe in heaven?" he asked at last. "Do you believe Tony's gone there?"
"I don't suppose anybody knows," his father answered gently, "what happens after...I believe there's something about life that goes on. It seems too good to end in a river."

It is a Newbery Honor winner, 1987, and the William Allen White Childrens' book award winner, 1989. A wonderfully written book, that chills me on each reading. Given a thumbs-up by A.

Crossposted at Bookreviews and Saffrontree.

Of Halloween, Diwali and Injuries that are inconvenient!

That has been a veeeerrrryyy long break from blogging even by my standards! I have been kept otherwise busy- by the expected and the unexpected!

Every Diwali, I make a lot of traditional goodies like besan laddoo, chiwda, shankarpaLe, karanji, shev, etc. So shoping lists were made for the ingredients, and a visit to my regular grocer's carried out. Then came the long weekend, with a holiday on Monday. Now, weekends are a bad time to plan any extra work. There are so many other things to do with A and the husband at home, that sometimes I do not even have a longish stretch of free time in which I may read the newspaper. Not that I am complaining. I always love to have time with her, just to loll around and chill, catch up with our reading aloud sessions, or do some activity, something that we had put aside for 'later'.

Pic courtesy here 

This weekend there was the excitement over Halloween. Arrangements had been made so that all houses ready to trick-or-treat had a bat cut-out stuck on the door. The children were to go from house to house in groups led by teen volunteers, as some of them were as young as 3yrs.

A wanted to be a witch, but not just any witch. She had recently read a book on Russian Tales written by James Mayhew, and was most impressed by Baba Yaga, the fearful witch in Russian folklore, that ate children, lived in a house with chicken legs, flew around on a black broomstick, but was also revered for her knowledge, helping lost souls. 

So she planned her own costume, using pieces of clothing we had, as the one stipulation I had made was that we do not buy or hire anything, but make do with what we can find at home. So she decided on a European looking long skirt in stark checkered black-white-red, a full sleeved black t-shirt, two black dupattas for a cape and cloak, and a pointed black witch's hat she made with black paper. She also made a broomstick of rolled newspaper covered with black paper, with a tail made from black garbage bags. Scary makeup with black and red acrylic paint completed the outfit. We had a very scary looking witch ready for trick-or-treating, who joined a very excited group of ghouls, ghosts, skeletons, witches, devils, mummies, etc. for an evening of fun. And the witch came home after around 2 hours with a bag-full of goodies which she claimed would last her the whole year!

So the weekend over, I decided to get my Diwali cooking on track on Tuesday. There was something that I needed to get from the grocer nearby. It had rained in the morning, and I decided it was a fine day for the kilometer or so to the shop. Wrong decision- I should have just ordered in. On the way, I slipped over a wet patch on the uneven pavement, and the next thing I knew, I was performing a Sashtang Namaskar right there, the wind knocked out of me.

I got up gingerly and tried out all my joints to check that they were still functional. The husband had had a fracture with just such a fall last year. Fortunately my joints were all fine- but I had had a severe bruising and scraping on my knees and hands nevertheless. Getting up, I limped to the side and debated on what I should do next. I was too far from home to walk back in that condition, and there was no auto coming along for quite some time. I then called up a friend staying at my building, who, God bless her, came promptly in her car to take me home.

It was not a debilitating injury, but was enough to ensure that I slow down in my work, so that I could not do all that I wanted to do for Diwali. That put paid to my plans, also giving me not much time to go online. (You can imagine how that could have given me serious withdrawl symptoms, considering that we are just post-CROCUS.)

Technology did help, though, and with the help of the newly aquired microwave (Oh, yes, I'm quite backward that way. I didn't get one till now because I can manage quite well without it, thank you very much. Even this one came along when A voiced her grouse that I don't do any baking like her friends' mothers, and could I also begin baking at home, please?), my indispensible maid, (Amma has been a wonder at this time!), and a very enthusiastic kid at home (I'll help you roll the laddoos, Aai.), I managed to make besan laddoos and some very yum chiwda. Sent some freshly made to some friends too. And one of them got back saying she had made short work of them.

There was a laugh in the whole incident too. After her initial horrified reaction on hearing of my fall, and seeing the more obvious injuries, A asked me if anyone saw me fall. I was smiling at such a reaction so typical for her age! And all my mothballed salwar-kameezes got an airing as I couldn't- still cannot- bear the chafing by denims over my poor knees.

To their credit, both A and the husband have been very helpful around the house, putting their things away, helping in the kitchen and otherwise. A especially loved doing the round of putting out the diyas every evening with my supervision.

I was a bit better towards the Diwali weekend, and A and I spent a very enjoyable time one morning packing Diwali sweets and going to our friends' houses in the building with them, while the husband cooked lunch.

And went to a cousin's house for bhaubeej on Sunday where she, her daughter, A and I had a great time exclaiming over the gifts we got from our respective boy-cousins.

All in all, a good Diwali, though a bit inconvenienced by injury. Anyway, here's wishing you and your a belated Happy Diwali.

In the meantime, can anyone tell me how I can use an otherwise good but seriously torn on one knee pair of jeans? And no, it is not fashionable for me to walk around with a fancy patch on my knee. I'm at an age where 20yr olds call me aunty!
 

With love from Down Under

This saturday evening I took A down under to play. Since the next day was a holiday, she could spend that extra bit of time with her friends unlike during the school week. I took my book with me as usual, and spent a happy 2 hours catching up with my reading at my usual place.

So what's new? Why this post? Well, when we came back, there was a large parcel waiting for us. A large, brown paper package that looked as if it contained...A BOOK! I looked at the postage stamp- from Australia! With the words fishpond.com.au written all over it.

Wow! I had been waiting for this parcel for some time now, since I received a mail from Catherine Way, who blogs about the adventures she has with her two boys at her home on a "5-acre block of land" in Australia. We had been assigned to be partners by Zoe at Playing by the book to swap picture books.

A quickly made short work of opening the parcel and WOW! Out came a book I had earlier read about, but not got my hands on. A piece of Australia, about an animal native to that continent. It was read by A with a lot of giggles.

Pic Courtesy jackiefrench.com

DIARY OF A WOMBAT

Written by Jackie French

Illustrated by Bruce Whatley

Published by Angus & Robertson, an imprint of HarperCollins.
Ages 4+

Mothball is a wombat. A very busy wombat. After all, she has to sleep, eat, scratch, eat grass, and most importantly-train the humans she lives with to provide enough carrots for her to crunch. For grass all the time is soooo boring! So what if there is a door which stops her from entering the house in search of carrots? The only way is to chew a hole in the door to get in!

And how tiresome that the humans board up the hole! Now what does a wombat do? Well, Mothball just proceeds to battle with everything possible till she gets her carrots. The doormat "(Discovered flat, hairy creature invading my territory. Fought major battle with flat, hairy creature.)", the dustbin, ransacking shopping bags, Until she discovers that a whole lot of lovely, sweet, crunchy carrots can be got by digging them up from the garden. Gorged on until she gets bored of them, too.

So now what? Now mothball feels like rolled oats. And proceeds to train her humans to give her rolled oats. And carrots too!

Inference by a wombat? "Have decided that humans are easily trained and made quite good pets."

A lovely picture book, that was much enjoyed by the 9 yr old. Read and re-read over the past few days. We searched and found the real story of Mothball, the story behind Diary of a Wombat. As endearing as the book. We learned a lot about this very endearing animal native to Australia along the way.

There was a lot of laughter as A and I drew parallels between the way Mothball apparently trains her humans and the way children apparently train their parents to heed all their needs, all the while that parents feel that they are training their children in something that the child needs to learn. It is, after all, a two-way street, isn't it?

The book is winner of the Booksellers' Choice Award, and a Children's Book Council of Australia Honour Book. We have been indeed honoured to receive such a wonderful book. Thanks, Catherine!

And the book that we have sent to Catherine and her two boys? Well, I won't give it away, as I don't want to spoil the surprise for them. All I will say here is that it is a piece of India, my country, that we have sent them, and something that I am sure her boys will enjoy!

CROCUS, and what we did in the vacation

It has been a busy few weeks.

First, there was all the preparation for CROCUS, the online bookfest at Saffron Tree, the kidlit site I write for. There were themes to decide, books to search for and zero in on, interesting discussions about our books across the ST board, finalising our choices and then working on them. I found wonderful books, just what the theme ordered for. I enjoyed researching for and reading up about the themes, reading the books myself and with A. I enjoyed discussing the books with her, getting her points of view. She was fascinated by them, and has been dipping into them again and again-just what the books need you to do. She even used them in her imaginative play with her friend W, who had come over to spend the day during the vacation. Then there was the drafting and re-drafting of the reviews, racing to meet the deadline set by Prabha Ram and Ranjani. It was wonderful!

We also met friends over the vacation.

We met a blogger friend Arundhati and her son P. Arundhati was just as I visualised her to be, calm and collected. P was so adorable, watching us speak with big wide eyes. A was very taken with him, finding him extremely quiet in comparison to her constant chatter. I had to remind her that she was much the same at his age.

A's friend S, whose mother P is also a very close friend, had a 10th birthday on 10-10-10. P and I had a blast planning for her party together, having discussions about themes and return gifts and food and venue. The party was finally held at a farmhouse nearby, and both kids and parents enjoyed themselves out in the open air. The weather gods were good to us, and it was a pleasant, not too sunny day. The food was also very yum, with noodles, mini-pizzas, and chocolate mousse for kids and chola, paneer matar, methi parathas and moong dal halwa for adults. All pure veg. Of course, everyone ate whatever they wanted. There was also the very scrumptious chocolate cake made with atta instead of maida, eggless, of course, which was baked at home by P's sister N, in the shape of a big 10. Yum yum. Of course we gorged on everything without counting the calories. And had some cake and moong dal halwa for a takeaway.

A, another school friend of A, whose mother R is also a good friend, came over one day at tea time, so that the girls could finish a project they had as vacation homework. So while the girls worked, we ladies had a yak over tea. It was fun.

Then there was a visit to the library, where there was a storytelling session by Muriel Bloch, who told us wonderful stories, and stories about storytelling. Also chanced to meet Ssstoryteller there, a blogger I have admired for some time. It was wonderful meetting her there, and we both have daughters the same age, and she also has been following ST for some time now.

Many books have been read over the vacation. Harry Potter? We are halfway through book 4 now, as part of our read aloud sessions at home. In all this, vacation homework took a back seat, and we had a showdown and a marathon session on the friday before the last weekend of the vacation. Did manage to finish, so we had a chilled out weekend with friends and family.

And now CROCUS is in full bloom. Enjoying every bit of it. Please do visit.



See you there!

THE TIME HAS COME...

I know now how a fugitive gone underground feels. Claustrophobic. Struggling for a breath of fresh air. For a single sight of the life-giving sun. For the freshness of some greenery. For a flash of blue- a handful of the sky!

It has been more than a month now since I all but disappeared from the blogging scene. Except for a few of my friends, no-one could access my blog. My friends have understood, and have stood by me. In the process, they have been inconvenienced many times, and my apologies to them.

Well, as Lewis Caroll has famously said in his poem, "The Walrus and the Carpenter", the time has come. I want my breath of fresh air, my place in the sun, my glorious greens, my handful of the sky. Time to de-privatise. And what better time than now, when we celebrate.

Celebrating Reading Of Culturally Unique Stories. CROCUS. As most of my readers know, I write for Saffron Tree, a rich repository of books for children from across many cultures. Saffron Tree was started on 23rd October 2006 by Prabha Ram, who searched for, and did not find a resource for the kind of books she wanted for her children. Over the past four years, more parent bloggers equally passionate about books joined Saffron Tree, until now when we are a team of 15 contributors, me being the newest, having started with the post Frindle. Since then, there has been no looking back, and I have enjoyed every bit of being part of such a wonderful team. Do hop over to the site and read the invite I've posted there.



So now, with just 3 days left for CROCUS, I would like to begin anew. I am the same, my work is the same. With changes. For change is the only constant. 

A COMEDY OF ERRORS, but all's well that ends well!

I happened to read a post written by a fellow blogger S recently. S is a friend of a friend, and I am an occasional reader of her blog. She had had a terrible experience at her dog's veternary surgeon's clinic, which was not very great on sterilisation of equipment, post operative care, or the consultancy.

Now I am not a dog-owner, not even really a dog-lover, but I could feel her anger and frustration at her not-so-great experience. Is there any way I could help this lady? I wondered. Sure I could.

I have a neighbour, a dog-owner, who I know is extremely fond of her dog, and considers her one of the family. I had this idea that I could ask this neighbour for information on where she gets medical treatment for her dog, and pass it on. Just reaching out to help. So I commented on her blog asking her for an email address where I could send her contact information of my neighbour's vet.

Now my neighbour's name is U, and I went to her name on the contacts list on my phone, and called her. Now bear with me as I go into the details of our conversation.

U: Oh Hi, Sandhya. How come you called?
Me: Hi, U. I hope this is not a bad time to call? If you are busy, I'll call again.
U: No, no. I'm not busy. Tell me.
Me: Actually U, I wanted some help. Actually I have a friend who has a dog, and she is very unhappy with her vet's service. She is looking for another vet. I wonder if you could tell me where you take your dog?
U: Where does she stay? So that I could refer you to a vet nearby her.
Me: I'm not sure exactly where she stays, but I think it is somewhere near J.......
U: Oh then she could go to any of my two vets. They will be nearby for her. One is on B..... Rd and the other in J........ They even come on home visits, you know. They are both very good, and answer all my questions. You know I have two dogs now, don't you?
(Here I was wondering about the fact that the vet comes all the way from there to our building, which is a good 15 kms away. But I told myself--maybe.)
Me: Oh, good. Can you give me their addresses and phone numbers, U?
U: I have them on my dog's card. Can I call you back?
Me: Ok.

She did call me back as promised and gave me details of the two vets. I thanked her for the help, said bye, and passed on the info to S. She got back to me, thanking me, since both of them were at a stone's throw for her. Then I proceeded with other pressing matters.

In the evening when I went downstairs, I met U and thanked her for the info, when she looked at me blankly, and said that either there was some mistake, or she has had selective amnesia! After probing the matter for some time, we both realised that I had called another friend, also called U, who is a blogger, and who co-incidentally is also a dog owner. I should have smelled a rat (or should I say dog?) when she mentioned that she had two dogs! Since my neighbour has only one. But then I had not met her for a few days, and it was not unlikely that she had got another in the meantime.

I was mortified. I had called up the other U after many weeks, and I had launched into asking a favour from her without so much as a hello-how-have-you-been? The culprit had been the contacts list on my phone. One was listed as just U, and the other as U-cell. I had not checked the number before dialling.

I called my blogger friend promptly the next day, and very sheepishly explained the whole comedy of errors to her. She happens to be a very gracious older lady, and was very understanding of the whole mistake. We had a hearty laugh over it. Thanks to my 'mistake', we did have a long conversation after a very long time.

I wrote to S, too, telling her all about it. Anyway, all's well that ends well. I had an excellent conversation with someone I admire but hadn't spoken to for a long time, made a new friend in the blogosphere, and consolidated my reputation as a scatterbrain bookworm in my building. Which is something I don't really mind- as there have been more positives to the whole issue!

It's good to have friends!

Yesterday evening when A came home from playing downstairs, she looked upset. I had heard her having a shouting match with her friend W, so I knew it was one of those fights! I didn't say anything to her then, and neither did she. She just went to freshen up, unusually quiet.

After we had dinner, I told her that W's mother, who was also one of my close friends, had called us over for lunch today, and that another of my friends, whose daughter S is also good friends with A and W, was also coming.

A grumpy look. Followed by "I don't think W would want me to come."

"Why?" Me.

"I was angry with her, and was not talking to her. But she kept following me and kept asking me what was the matter." A.

"So maybe she wanted to know why you were angry." Me.

"But I told her I didn't want to talk to her. Then why did she keep following me?" A.

"Because she is your friend, A, and wanted to know why you were angry. Maybe she didn't know you were angry with her." Me.

"But then why does she always want to play the game her way? I was telling her something and she wouldn't listen." A.

"OK, so you should have listened to what she was trying to say and then told her what you wanted to do." Me.

"But I wanted to play the game like I was telling her." A.

"A, you know you should take turns. If W wants to play the game in one way and you in another, tell her that maybe you can play her way for some time, maybe half an hour, and then in your way later. I have told you to do this so many times." Me.

A grumpy silence for some time, in which I kept doing what I was doing, with glances at her. "But then why should she keep following me when I told her I didn't want to talk to her? Even you tell me to go and sit somewhere else for some time when you are angry with me!"

I felt like laughing at this statement but didn't, as that would have offended the angry little monkey even more. How children always quote your own words back to you and corner you!

"Yes, I know. That is because both of us are angry about something at that time, and it gives us some time to cool off. But I never stay angry at you very long, A. There is no point in just getting angry. You should try to find a solution. Maybe tomorrow you can speak to her and tell her how much it upsets you when this happens. But no fighting again tomorrow while talking to her about it."

"No, I don't want to go to her house tomorrow!"

I let it be, as I knew things would have blown over by the morning. When A woke up today, she was still worrying over the matter.

"Aai, I don't think W would like me to go to her house." This statement told me that A was no longer in an angry mood, and may be open to reason.

"I don't think that should happen, A. Maybe even she is feeling bad about your fight. And maybe she is also feeling bad that you got angry with her and would not talk to her. I know her insisting on doing things her way upsets you, and sometimes it is not fair. But what will you get by getting angry over it? Everybody does things in their own way, A. People are never going to do things the way you want them to do them ever in your life. They will always do things the way they want to do them. It is not only W, or you, or any of your friends now. Others in school, when you become bigger, or people in the office when you grow up and work, or people you get to know when you get married, are all going to be different from you. They are not going to behave in the way you want them to."

I was watching her as I spoke. I still had her attention.  "And there is no point in getting angry or upset at everything your friends do that you do not like, A. That is not going to help you or anyone else. You must try and ignore all such things. Yes, if it is something big, if someone hits you, or pushes you, or breaks something of yours, or anything like that, you have the right to get angry. But then there is no point in staying angry for so long. That is not getting angry. That is sulking. And then people will say 'OK. She always gets angry and sulks.' Then they will stop trying to be friends. Then you will have no friends left, A."

I still had her attention. "That is why she kept following you, A. Because she is your friend and cares enough to try and talk about it even though she knew you were angry at her."

"But I was angry at her then, and didn't want to talk to her."A.

"So next time, tell her that her behaviour has made you angry and that you wanted some 'time-out' so that you are not angry after some time, and can play again. But again, there is no point in remaining angry for so long that it becomes sulking."

Just then, my phone rang. It was my friend, W's mother. "Happy Friendship Day! You'll be coming by 1.30, won't you?" she said.

"Oh, I didn't know it was Friendship Day. And yes, I'll be there by then. I'll get some ice-cream, so don't bother making any dessert."  I said.

A was listening, eyes lighting up at the mention of ice-cream. "Aai, today is Friendship Day?"

"Yes. Aunty said it was." Me.

"Then I'll make friendship bands to take with me for W and S." A.

"You'll have to make three then. S's younger sister Ar (who thinks the world of A) will also be there. But only if you hurry up and get ready now. Otherwise you'll not have time." Me.

I don't know how much of my lecture had actually taken root, but all was well with A's world again.

I, too have been blessed with wonderful friends who have been there for me when I needed them. They have been supportive without interfering, without trying to tell me what I should do, and without prying into my personal matters if all I wanted was someone to be just there. Friends who accept me as I am, warts and all.

All that I wanted to say about friends has been already said in this wonderful, wonderful post by Suranga. I could not have said it better.

The Boy in The Striped Pyjamas

A very different book on the Holocaust. One that was crying out to be written.

THE BOY IN THE STRIPED PYJAMAS
Written by John Boyne.
Cover illustration of a boy. From the Panstwowe Museum Oswiecim Brezinske, Auschwitz. By Ali Campbell.
Published by Black Swan books for Random House.
ISBN: 978-0-552-77380-5
Ages: This could be disputed. Check out this interesting discussion and judge for yourself.

Image: Courtesy GoodReads.

Bruno is the 9yr old son of a senior Nazi officer, and lives with his parents and elder sister Gretel in Berlin. His father is posted 'to a far-away place,' Auschwitz, so the family has to move. Against his wishes, he is taken away from his friends to a place where his family are the only occupants of a solitary house, with no neighbours, and certainly no little boys to be his friends.

"All around the house in Berlin were other streets of large houses...he liked to stand in front of these stalls and close his eyes and breathe in their aromas, feeling his head grow dizzy with the mixed scents of sweetness and life. But there were no streets around the new house...when he closed his eyes, everything around him just felt empty and cold, as if he was in the loneliest place in the world. The middle of nowhere."

So there was Bruno, with no friends, an elder sister who was more into teen interests and parents who were distant, and who do not answer his questions about the change. Until one day, Bruno looks out of a window into the distance, and sees a huge wire fence extending in both directions further than he could see. Beyond the fence, there were "nothing but low huts and large square buildings dotted around and one or two smoke stacks in the distance."  The place was teeming with people men, young and old, boys, too. But no women. They were all "wearing the same clothes as each other: a pair of grey striped pyjamas with a grey striped cap on their heads."

Bruno is puzzled by all he sees, but gets no answers from anyone. When he asks his father who all those people were, he is told "Those people...well, they're not people at all, Bruno." A Nazi officer's view of the Jews. Bruno asks his mother and sister about them, asks the maid too, but gets the same answer: Just keep quiet, don't ask too many questions, and just keep themselves safe until all this is over. But no good answers.

So Bruno decided to explore the inside and the outside of the new house. The inside was soon done, and there wasn't much to explore outside on their side of the fence, so he decided to go walking along the fence. Inspite of being warned countless number of times not to go anywhere near the fence or the camp. What was a boy to do with no-one to play with, no-one to speak to and nothing to do?

So he sneaked out and went for a long walk along the fence. The whole area was deserted, except that he saw a speck in the distance on the other side of the fence, who he realised was a boy about his own age when he came nearer, a boy in the striped pyjamas and an armband with a star on it.

courtesy wikipedia

They got talking, and soon became friends. Shmuel, the boy, told him that he and his father lived there and there were hundreds of boys there. But they all always had fights, so he had come there to be on his own.

"It's so unfair," said Bruno. "I don't see why I have to be stuck over here on this side of the fence where there's no one to play with...Why are there so many people on that side of the fence? And what are you all doing there?"

Questions similar to the ones he had asked his family, and had been fobbed off. So now Bruno gets answers from a boy his age. Someone who knows that he and his family had to leave their home and come to this place in a horribly crowded, smelly train, and that his mother had been taken away from them along with the mothers, aunts, grandmothers and sisters of the other boys. A boy who is as much unaware of what it was all about as much as he is. Who has been uprooted from the familiar as much as he is. A kindred soul. Like any other nine-year-olds, they try to make sense of their world from whatever they know of it from what is happening. A very dangerous thing, as we soon realise.

Bruno decides to keep his friendship a secret. 'After all, he reasoned, they might not want me to be friends with him any more...when it came to parents...what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.' So their friendship continued, and Bruno went every afternoon to that spot near the fence, and Shmuel was always there. 

Then one day, lice are found in Bruno's hair, and it had to be shaved off. Upset by this, his mother insists that she and the children go back to Berlin. But now Bruno does not want to go back. What happens after that is horrifying- a twist in the tale. Read the book to find out. It has also been made into a movie in 2008.

The ending packs quite a punch. An innocent boy, at the wrong place at the wrong time. The boy in the striped pyjamas. The horror of the Holocaust comes across in unexpected ways. Without there being anything explicit about the horror. No descriptions about the torture, the killings and yet mind numbing. 

Tracks leading to Auschwitz II camp
Courtesy wikipedia

Auschwitz is in Poland, and had two camps: Auschwitz I which was a concentration camp, and Auschwitz II which was an extermination camp. Both were operational from May 1940 to January 1945, when it was liberated by the Soviet army. An estimated 1.1 million people were killed there, mostly by gassing (using an insecticide gas Zyklon B), but also by torture, illness, starvation, medical experiments by the infamous Nazi doctor Josef Mengele or point-blank killing. The dead included not only the Jews, but also ethnic Poles, Gypsies or Romas, and Soviet prisoners of war.

After the war, Auschwitz I was restored by the Polish government and the Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum (Panstwowe Museum Oswiecim Brezinske) was established, in honour of the victims of Nazism. Auschwitz II was preserved  as it was, and a visitor gets a feel of the horrors of this infamous extermination camp. It is an UNESCO World Heritage site.

    

Catching up with friends

The husband being out on a business trip, A and I are at a loose end. Feel it more on weekends. So what do we do? Catch up on friends.

On Friday we went to a book launch with Choxbox and her daughters.  Any time spent with this trio is fun as none of us are at a loss of words. Yak-yak-yakking away about books (what else?) and such is extremely therapeutic.

The book launched was WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, reviewed by me here  and here.  A had already read it, and we had discussed it, so she had a list of questions to ask the author,  Leila Seth, who answered them with a lot of humour and affection. Unassuming, she looked like anybody's grandmother, and had a great dialogue with the children. A, of course, asked her questions, and got her answers. Got her copy signed too.

Saturday- A's best friend at school, AM had a birthday party at their farmhouse. It was a wonderful day for an out-of-doors activity. Bangalore weather has always been great, but these days have been lovely. A cloud cover, cool winds but not much rain make for a great time to have a party on a farm. We walked in fields picking tomatoes, corn and much else, fed goats and calves, ate hot corn-on-the-cobs fresh off the farm, had a treasure hunt with the kids having a great time searching everywhere on the farms, ate yummy rajasthani food that was provided, and met up with a lot of friends who we have not met since school runs have become a thing of the past.  A lot of the mothers echoed my views. So while the children rambled around, we sat down and yakked away.

Sunday-There was a society meeting that I had to attend. A went to her friend W's house for the morning while I was at the meeting. Post that, a good friend J from the building invited me over to share lunch with her and her husband. Good food, good conversation. After that went with some friends to the Strand book sale. I got a few lovely book for A, and one book for myself that I had wanted to read for a long time.


Today too, a friend whose daughter studies with A has invited us over. Haven't met her for a long time, so I think it would be a great idea to go.

In the meantime, my tag on fear is doing the rounds among friends in the blogosphere. Hope to read the differents points of view and about different books. Will be interesting.

Of Spies and Writers

Just finished reading HARRIET THE SPY. The first time I heard of the book was in a discussion with a friend. I liked the name, and it stuck. As usual, I took to scanning shelves at the library and bookstores for it, but soon realised that it was not available anywhere but at Flipkart. I was seriously considering buying it, as it had become like the proverbial itch that had to be scratched. Then the same friend told me that she had borrowed it from their library, Hippocampus. Since we already had plans of changing over our membership to Hippocampus, I decided to be patient and hold on. And hold on we did, for many impatient weeks.

In the meantime, we found out that the book had been made into a film. The film features Michelle Tractenberg in the central role, and was made in 1996. There was a screening on TV which we missed. Now this eminently watchable actress had last been seen by us in a Disney movie called Ice Princess.  Another one of those "makeover" stories, made in 2005. She was wonderful in this movie, and I would recommend it to anyone for its strong female characters, wonderful acting, feel-good factor and some breathtaking ice-skating sequences. So Michelle Tractenberg would have been in her early teens when she made "Harriet the Spy." Just the right age for our 11year old Harriet. Now all I had to do was to read the book, and then search out the movie and Watch it.

Let me digress here a bit. There have been a lot of books that have been made into movies over the whole of movie history. Most people prefer to sit through a few hours of the movie and enjoy it rather than read the book. I know of many of A's friends who have watched the whole Harry Potter series on screen, but not held a single one of the books in their hand, leave alone read any. If that is not blasphemeous, (in my view) what is?  J.K.Rowling's work has revived most children's interest in the printed word. Her book releases have had all the hysteria of a sold-out rock concert, and she has enchanted children and adults alike. Her work and its aftermath deserves a whole post on its own. Shall do it some other time.

I feel that reading a book unfetters one's imagination. You are free to imagine the characters in any way you want. A movie, on the other hand, has its limits as everything has been pre-digested and characterised. There is also the limitation of the time in which the whole story has to be told. Going back to the Harry Potter series, it is my opinion that the movies do not do complete justice to the books. There is so much more in the books that has to be edited out, and sometimes there are additions out of context which completely alter the original flavour of the books. Maybe I'm being a purist here, but Rowling's work is so complete in itself that it shouldn't be tampered with. It is just wonderful how all her dots connect perfectly.

OK. Point well made. Read the book before you watch the movie. Wherever possible. Let me come back to the topic at at hand before I go off on a complete tangent. Which is the book we are reviewing.

HARRIET THE SPY.
Written and illustrated by Loise Fitzhugh.
Cover art by Michael Deas.
This edition published by HarperCollins.
Ages 8-13 yrs.

Image :Courtesy Amazon.

Harriet M. Welsch is a very smart 11 yr old. She has a way with words, and follows a "spy-route" everyday after school, complete with a notebook in which she jots down every little thing she observes. Even at school, she is ruthless about what she writes down about her classmates, her best friends Sport and Janie included. There is a raw truthfulness to her observations, the kind children indulge in when they are not used to guilding of any kind. She is amply encouraged by her nanny, "Old Golly," who has realised the potential in her charge. She encourages her to observe, analyse and write down about everything that she sees or hears. The first stepping stone to becoming a great writer. Harriet does not quite look at it in those terms, but does have "becoming a writer"  in her list of aspirations. Old Golly herself is an avid reader, and quotes often and at every possible occasion.

Then one day, she leaves to get married. Harriet is, in her opinion now old enough to take care of herself. Soon after that, disaster strikes, when Harriet loses her notebook in a game of tag. Her classmates read aloud all the uncomplimentary truths about themselves, and boycott her. Harriet reacts like a typical pre-teen by getting back at them by playing some nasty tricks, writing even more ugly things in another book, not going to school and behaving very badly at home with her worried parents, who do not understand how to handle their daughter. Her notebook is taken away at school, when the matter is noticed by the teachers. That really brings matters to a head.

"She didn't care anymore about signing her name, and she got no pleasure from the work she did, but she did it. Everything bored her. She found that when she didn't have a notebook it was hard for her to think. The thoughts came slowly, as though they had to squeeze through a tiny door to get to her, whereas when she wrote, they flowed out faster than she could put them down. She sat very stupidly with a blank mind until finally 'I feel different' came slowly into her head.''

Harriet rebels and blocks everyone out, including her parents. She is like a cornered animal, hitting out at anyone and anything. Her world has turned on its head and nothing makes sense anymore. All she wants is to get Old Golly back and cries for her in her sleep.

To their credit, her parents do the right thing and decide to get help before matters escalate. They set up an appointment with a psychologist, who tells them that nothing is actually wrong with Harriet, and that she is actually an extraordinarily intelligent and articulate young lady, whose talent for observation and penmanship is to be nurtured and channelised, and not quashed.

So what happens next? How does Harriet get back all that she has lost? Does she really get it all back or does something change? What happens vis-a-vis Old Golly? What about her friends and classmates? Does she make up for the hurtful things that she has said and done? What does she learn from the whole thing?

There are some wonderful things that are written to Harriet by Old Golly in a letter that she sends her. Knowing that Harriet can be painfully truthful, she writes, "Little lies that make people feel better are not bad, like thanking someone for a meal they made even if you hated it, or telling a sick person they look better when they don't,.....Remember that writing is to put love in the world, not to use against your friends. But to yourself you must always tell the truth."

Another aspect that the writer has dealt with, which is like a sub-plot is Harriet's puzzling over 'matters of the heart' after she realises that Old Golly has a boy-friend. She tries to speak to her mother about it..."what does it feel like when you meet the person you're going to marry?...I'm not worried." Harriet squirmed around. What am I? she wondered. Just curious. "I just wondered what it felt like," she said, sulking slightly.

That evening, after feeling that Old Golly was behaving very unlike herself, she wrote in her notebook, "There is more to this thing of love than meets the eye. I am going to have to think about this a great deal but I don't think it will get me anywhere. I think maybe they're all right when they say there are some things I won't know anything about until I'm older. But if it makes you like to eat all kinds of wurst (when you don't really like them) I'm not sure I'm going to like this." Very astute and very articulate for an eleven year old.

So now I am going to look out for the movie and enjoy Michelle Tractenberg's excellent acting. And what about A? She is next in line for the book. She will be done with it long before I can get the movie.

When the quality of mercy got a bit strained!

In her English class, A and her friends are being introduced to literature other than that in their textbook. They are doing "The Wizard of Oz" in the original, as also daily readings from one of the "Chicken Soup" books appropriate for their age. As an offshoot of this, they have been introduced to concepts like "Thought for the day" which the children themselves have to share with the others in assembly, and "A daily act of kindness" which is shared in class too. I think it is a very good thing, and makes the children think outside their curriculum. A sort of "literature project", if you please, other than the book review, biography and autobiography that they did last year. Also a great way of sensitising them to others' needs and thoughts.

So we have been having help at home as "acts of kindness". Discussions if something she reads in the current book qualifies as a suitable "thought for the day" and what it really means.

Yesterday, she came home a little thoughtful. When I asked her, she said, "Aai (mother in marathi), today in class Kn (a boy in her class) dropped the colour pencil box by mistake and all the pencils rolled around everywhere. When he was picking them up I got up and helped him to put them back. Is that an act of kindness?" 

"Yes," I said. "Did anybody else also help him?"

"No." She said. "The others kept sitting in their seats. The boys anyway do not help if anything like this happens. And the girls were all thinking 'why must we help a boy?' They were all looking at me and must be wondering why I was helping. Is it OK if I helped Kn?"

"Yes, it was nice of you." Now I do not know this child, but that didn't matter. A had been helpful to someone spontaneously, and was obviously feeling proud of her "act of kindness," and that was all that mattered to me. I was also glad that she was trying to internalise being kind.

She still seemed worried about something. "But aai, he did not say 'thank you' to me. And later in the bus he pushed me when he wanted to get down at his stop. That was not nice of him. It was rude."

Now my husband, who was listening quietly all this time, joined in. "Yes, it was rude of him. So don't be helpful to him next time. Do you think you should?"

"Yes!" Pat came the reply. "If he is rude, that is his problem. Why shouldn't I help him next time if I want to?"

Why indeed! I was proud of her attitude, but was a bit busy at that time to add my bit, and then the conversation moved to matters of homework. Today morning, while getting her ready for school, I had the time to speak to her.

The matter was still playing on her mind and she opened the topic herself. "Aai, was it OK what I said yesterday? I can help if I am someone's friend, can't I? Even if they are rude?" 

Now A has been reading "William Shakespeare and his Dramatic act" from the Dead Famous series for the past few days. This has been her first exposure to Shakespeare, and I am glad it is a fun one. So I decided to take advantage of the fact and told her at this point that Shakespeare has written a play called A merchant of Venice, in which there are some famous lines...and I quoted the first few relevant lines to her. 

"The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes."

She was enchanted and was listening with her whole being. It was simple enough for her to understand, although I had to repeat it two times with stress on some words and some action.

"So even if he is rude to me, I should still help him?"

"You have to decide, A. What do you think?"

"Aai, that poem says that we should forgive."

"See, A. Just as it is important for you to tell the truth, or to not hit anybody, or be kind, it is also important to be able to forgive. See, that poem says it is good for both the person who is forgiven and for the person who forgives." I could sense that she was paying close attention. "Just like when you do something that I don't like."

Here she supplied her own example. "Like that time when I broke the thermometer?" Not a very good example as it was not something major that needed forgiving, but it would do for the sake of the discussion.

"Yes,"  I said. "At that time I scolded you for playing with it but have I kept scolding you for it? Everytime you do something you shouldn't, you sometimes get scolded. But do I keep going back to whatever you have done earlier and scold you for that or anything else every time? No. Just imagine if I keep doing that. Won't it be very bad? It does not mean that I have forgotten about it. But what you did can be forgiven."

I still had her attention. "So if somebody is rude to you, you don't have to keep on tolerating it, if it happens every time. Just pay no attention to such people. But you can certainly forgive them and not hold it against them. And if then they do ask for help, you can be kind and help them. It will certainly make you feel better about yourself . You felt nice helping him, didn't you?"

"Yes!" Big grin on her face. Forgiveness as a concept that she could handle without feeling weak was introduced. I thought the rest of it- what if someone had done something by mistake or deliberately...how to handle being forgiving then- could wait for a later date.

She came back home from school today with another big grin. "Aai, you know today Kk(another boy) knocked down some books and asked if someone can please help him pick them up? I went immediately and helped him. You know, nobody else came to help."

"So did he thank you for it?" Me.

"Yes. He took the books and said thanks." A.

"So did that feel good?" Me.

"Yes!" Big smile and a hug.

Bless her!