The Quiet Between Two Rings of a Landline

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A rotary phone – the slowest and somehow the most peaceful form of communication. This was the early nineties. Most homes didn’t have a landline. Mine didn’t either. And strangely, nobody thought it was a problem. If my father came home late from work, the family didn’t panic — we simply assumed: traffic, work, or he met a friend, in that order. My mother didn’t have a “Find My Kid” app. Her version was: divine trust and a loud voice. My brother and I would disappear into a gully or a friend’s apartment complex for hours. We walked to the library, roamed three streets away to play cricket, and trekked half a mile to Malleswaram 18th Cross ground — returning home at 6:30 or 7, covered in dust and joy. Parents assumed kids would eventually wander back home the way cows return at dusk. No drama. No helicopter parenting. Just life moving at its own calm pace. Postcards and inland letters — the original long-distance messaging apps. With no phone at home, the only wa...
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Whats and Whys

One of the common questions that I face at home now is, Appa, what's that? Akhil is obsessed with everything around him.  If the object of interest has a mechanical or electrical component (which constitutes most of the devices at home), then his interest just magnifies.  He would be running around at home, and all of a sudden, he'd look at me and ask, "Appa, what's that?"

Akhil, that's a magnet.  I'd say.  He would then repeat the word so that the word gets registered in his mind.  "MAGNET?" He'd fiddle with the device as well as the word for some time before finding another object that would keep his curiosity levels piqued to the same extent.

He has an absolute delight for the dishwasher at home.  After I finish placing all the utensils, he would be waiting eagerly to press the button.

"Appa, I want to press the button."

"Are you sure?", I would ask to make him feel that he is doing something important.

"Ya", he would say with a melody.

And that's when the questions would start again.

"Appa, what's that sound?"

"That's the sound of water washing the dishes."

"WOoosh", he'd try to replicate the sound with his mouth.

"Why is the water doing Wooosh?"

"Because, water is flowing from top to bottom and cleaning the vessels", I'd give a tepid explanation.

He would place his ear near the dishwasher to figure out the exact source of the sound.

"Appa, can I open the door?"

"You can try, but when the dishwasher is running, you cannot open the door."

"Oh, ok", he'd say.

And after his inquisitiveness wears off, he would come back to the original question.

"Appa, what's that sound?"

We would be reading a book and he'd see the elephant in the book lying down.  He'd ask, "Appa, why is the elephant doing this?", and he would pose exactly like the elephant.

The first time I saw him do that, I just burst out laughing, gave him a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"The elephant is lying down, because he is sad.  He is missing his friend", I'd say.

"Elephant not happy?", he'd ask.

"No".

"Why elephant not happy?"

And the cycle goes on.

The whats and whys are endless, and my wife and I would be in a state of confusion as to how we can give a reasonable explanation to a three year old.

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