A Mother, a Son and Spark

by Anupama Krishnakumar

[box]Anupama Krishnakumar shares the elation of Spark’s third anniversary with her five-year-old, who in his own way, makes her value the little milestone even more.[/box]

This morning, while I sat with my five-year-old son as he was drinking his steaming hot coffee (yes, coffee, you read that right), I asked him, ‘Do you know what the date is tomorrow?’ He reflected for a moment and said, ‘Ma, it’s 5^th!’ And precisely at that moment, I thought a shadow of recognition passed over his face or at least I imagined I saw it, for I knew that he sort of understood if it is 5^th of the month, it’s tough to hang around Amma and that she will be nothing short of a crazy cat.

‘You know, I have lot of work to do, so you have to help me by being a good boy,’ I told him. He sighed and I could sense the resignation in his voice. And just to brighten things up I added, ‘And guess what, it’s Spark’s Happy Birthday tomorrow!’

His eyes lit up. ‘Oh, how old will Spark be?’ he asked.

‘Three,’ I said. I think I shook a little with pride when I said that.

My son grinned.

‘Oh, three! But I am five!’ He sounded victorious.

I laughed and said, ‘Yes dear, you are older!’

Something about this conversation that I had with my little one warmed my heart. When I gave it a little more thought, I realised that this warmth emanated from recognising (no doubt with great joy!) that my son, in the process of growing up, has in certain ways started to understand his mother’s world and more importantly, can relate to some of the things I tell him about matters that mean the world to me, Spark being one of them.

I have realised that despite many tiring and testing times, I have absolutely loved being a mother. Parenting is a daunting task, yes, but I think nothing else could have brought more joy and pride for me than being around with my son and watching him grow up. Amid the tantrums, loud cries, copious tears, demands and adamant spells, lie moments that bring in so much meaning and purpose to your life, this meaning and purpose being something that only a child can bring.

It’s phenomenal, the way children bloom and surprise you at every stage of their life. Three to four years back, when my boy was just a toddler, I was the one who acted as the guiding hand as we walked together. But now, even though he is just five, sometimes, I realise it’s he who is walking ahead. Like when I tell him, ‘K, the fight we had yesterday, don’t even create such circumstances again!’ and he responds with, ‘But Amma, that was yesterday. It’s over!’ Or like when I tell him in an exasperated tone, ‘God, this is so annoying!’ and he responds (in an apt instance of role reversal) with an ‘Amma, just be calm!’ The profundity that characterises such conversations astounds me. Here is one of life’s most relevant truths spoken by a child – I seriously couldn’t have asked for a better tutor for letting go.

Now, it’s also that time in his life when he tries to understand the adult world with wide-eyed wonder. He mimics his father’s official conference calls, arranges his bookshelf to mirror his mother’s, pretends to be ‘Spiderman’, ‘Batman’, ‘Bodyguard’ and ‘G.One’ after watching those films, schedules his routine around the clock (Including setting mock alarms!), claims that he has ‘infinity thousand billion’ rupees money, drives his little car out for servicing and later, armed with a very sophisticated tool kit, becomes the service engineer himself,  watches cookery shows without batting an eyelid and brings out his own cooking range with a flourish, to cook all sorts of things, mouthing exotic culinary words! And not to mention the gamut of adult-like phrases he dishes out to convey his exasperation at times: ‘I can’t believe you are doing this!’, ‘I don’t appreciate this, really!’ and ‘This is so complicated!’

Suddenly, school matters too look different. There is a streak of independence, as he attempts to complete his homework on his own, gets his book bag ready all by himself, combs his hair on his own before leaving for school, peering intently at his face on the mirror and so on. There is also more “meaningful” discussion with “friends” at school and well the good thing is, I am still part of this world as I listen with wonder to stories that have changed courses clearly and in some cases, quite dramatically. I can’t admonish one of his classmates’ behaviour as bad only because that girl called him a “clever boy” once –so he gives me something close to a warning – don’t say that ever about her again. He talks of how he searched for an “anaconda” hidden in his school park along with his best buddies during their playtime. He talks of how he got “annoyed” with the attitude one of the boys showed to him during his turn to be the class monitor. And well, just a few minutes back, he told me of how he explained to the girl sitting next to him that it happens to be Spark’s birthday tomorrow!

But with all his pretension of trying to be a grown-up, some of his ways swell with childish innocence that make you believe that there is still some goodness left in this horrendous world. Rather, I would call it the care that only a child can show to a person. This care is innocent, unpretentious, expects no rewards and is filled with childish love. This is manifested in little actions: like when he brings the radio and tunes it to the FM station I like to listen to when my chips are down, like when he offers to help me in the kitchen during busy mornings by bringing out vessels and vegetables I ask for, or like when he agrees to stay ‘good’ on the 5^th of every month when we publish that month’s issue of Spark. More often than not, when an issue of Spark is due for publication, I can be seen typing away furiously on my laptop as I race ahead with last minute work during the night. At these times, there is also a little figure that peers over my shoulder at my laptop through sleepy eyes and asks me politely ‘Amma, are you done?’ At those times, I pause for a few minutes, go, hug him, put him to sleep and then resume work.

The next morning, the first words that would greet me are ‘Amma, it’s 6^th today – yay, Spark is over!’ I often giggle at his delight but it’s the same boy who, once, when we were visiting a bookstore, pointed to a magazine in the magazine section and exclaimed, ‘Amma, look! That book looks like your Spark!’ I beamed that instant for I least imagined my son to have paid close attention to all the Print-On-Demand copies of Spark issues lying next to my writing desk. And for all the right reasons, I also hoped that one day this dream endeavour will find its rightful place in bookstores everywhere.

It’s true that humility ought to be the mark of any growing effort, but it doesn’t hurt to feel proud about little milestones. The third anniversary of Spark is one such defining moment in Spark’s journey and looking back, I feel overjoyed and in this rush of pristine happiness, I want to dedicate this moment of joy to my five-year-old-brat who quite unknowingly has been the reason why Spark even came into being. After all, it was my decision to quit work and be a full-time mother that also prompted me to contemplate on how else I could make best use of my time. And thus was born the question and idea of Spark, one lazy winter afternoon back in November 2009.

Anupama Krishnakumar loves Physics and English and sort of managed to get degrees in both – studying Engineering and then Journalism. Yet, as she discovered a few years ago, it is the written word that delights her soul and so here she is, doing what she loves to do – spinning tales for her small audience and for her little son, bringing together a lovely team of creative people and spearheading Spark. She loves books, music, notebooks and colour pens and truly admires simplicity in anything! Tomatoes send her into a delightful tizzy, be it in soup or rasam or ketchup or atop a pizza!

[facebook]Share[/facebook] [retweet]Tweet[/retweet]