Tutoring a toddler
Wikipedia definition of a toddler: Toddler is a common term for a young child who is learning to walk or “toddle”, generally considered to be the second stage of development after infancy and before childhood occurring predominantly during the ages of 12 to 36 months old. During this period, the child learns a great deal about social roles and develops motor skills; to toddle is to walk unsteadily. The term cruising is used for toddlers who cannot toddle but must hold onto something while walking.
I never thought that I would have to go through the pangs of tutoring a toddler, without even being a parent. To all my batch mates and friends who are already parents, hats off.
The toddler in question is my neighbor’s two and a half year old daughter. Apart from other gyan that people from all around might be showering on the poor thing day and night, I had to be selfish enough, to impart the knowledge that I wanted to, to her. Now, notice the curious coincidence that all things that are associated with femininity usually end with the sound of an “ee” in the Hindi language. 90% of the women in India have a name that ends in either an “I” or an “A”. Similarly, anything masculine, when named, ends on the sound of an “aa”. So “Mummy” is feminine and “Papa” is masculine.
What this toddler didn’t seem to understand that although my nickname is “Pinchi”, I am a guy. So stuttered statements from her that said “Pinchi aayi” and “Pinchi gayi” (Miss Pinchi is coming and Miss Pinchi is gone, respectively) were common. After bribing her with tonnes (ok, some packets) of chocolate and creams and powders and fancy lotions, I thought I had done the job when she said: “Meri Pinchi bahut achi hai“. (My Miss Pinchi is too good). Effort down the drain.
No matter how many times I told her to address me as “bhaiya“, she still seems to think that I and her are of the same gender. Her name ends on an “ee” note too.
After some effort, one day I managed to make her understand a sentence in Hindi. “Nirmala ko saamp ne kaat khaaya”. (Nirmala was bitten by a snake). She faithfully reproduced it as “Nirmala ne saamp ko kaat khaaya” (Nirmala bit the snake). I did not know whom to feel pity for, Nirmala or the snake? And I gave up.
After a week of effort she finally managed to wish “ameenka” a “Happy Fried Fish Day”, a day dedicated to real friends on August 3rd. And I thought it was called Friendship Day. Maybe I was just grossly misinformed. Fried Fish must have some occult relationship with Friendship, I guess.
This Diety whom everyone dotes on, is one day sitting in her verandah and observing passers-by. Her grandparents, parents, me, my parents… Whoever passes by, the Diety looks up and says, in a very very cute stuttering voice “Aap mere liye mango laoge na.” (You are going to get me a mango, aren’t you?) Somehow, she is under the impression that whoever crosses her verandah, is going to the market to get a mango for her. By now, theoretically she must have heaped tons in the warehouse of her tiny imagination. Everyone smiles and answers as a “haan ji“. Yes. On hearing which she continues to play with extra-terrestrial shapes that she has morphed her plasticine into.
Although I hope this will change, but looking at what people become when they grow up, maybe she shouldn’t really change. Grow up. But not change. Grown ups, though, change all the time…