Row, Row, Row Your Boat

Has it happened to you that you see something all your life and then one day you see it as if for the first time, for what it is, the essential, the real? It happened to me. In the bathtub. Thanks to N.

N. loves music. Which kid doesn’t, eh? I’m very wary of modern media, or rather what passes for kids’ content these days, so for the longest time, she had to make do with my singing. Then I gave in just a little bit and explored ‘kid-friendly’ videos on YouTube. I’ll explain my definition of kid-friendly in a future post. For now, let’s just say it doesn’t include most of what goes on kids TV. On YouTube, just when I was getting tired of looking at monotonously chirpy kids and flashy animations and noisy videos, I heard this laidback guitar strumming. Two kids and a dog in a boat, simply gazing, totally relaxed, gently floating down the stream. A soothing voice crooned, “Row, row, row your boat…” I was hooked.

Now, we’ve all heard the rhyme. It goes:

Row, row, row your boat,
Gently down the stream…
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,

Life is but a dream…

I remember singing it in school, vigorously rhyming ‘stream’ and ‘dream.’ I also remember N. got a dancing doll gift (Made in China) that blared ‘ROAROAROAYERBOAT” (worse when the battery ran low, then it went “RoooaaaRooaaaRoaaaaa”). I remember watching the same song on other YouTube channels with bright, happy children waving their hands and thought bubbles coming out of their heads. But somehow, these two little children and their dog floating down the stream, stuck with me.  N. loved them too, she is forever asking me to sing “YoYo,” the one with the “anna” and the “akka” and “Jimmy” (brother, sister and dog). So we sing it all the time, while dressing, while eating, while walking, while sleeping (yes) and then, in the tub, while bathing.

One day, I was making slow waves in the tub around N., singing “Row, row, row your boat” as usual when the epiphany hit me. This wasn’t really a children’s rhyme! This was the most profound life lesson anyone could get! It condensed all the wisdom through the ages in four simple, perfect lines. Short like the sutras, deceptively simple like zen. I’ll go so far as to say this rhyme is but the essence of the Bhagavad Gita and the upanishads. At this point, I totally understand how you might think I’m a wee bit off, but nevertheless, let me explain.

The first line says, row, row, row! Make the effort. Get ahead. Do what you have to do. You’re in a boat, so you’ve got to row. And keep at it. Go see things. Have experiences. Live your life. That’s standard advice. But the second line turns it on its head: gently down the stream. It has two messages. First, gently. Yes, make progress, get ahead, do things, live your life, but go about it gently. No clawing, no shoving, no pulling other people down. No hard punches. No ill-will. No haste. No grabbing. No spite. No clutching. No ugly marks on the sands of time. Be gentle.
 

The next message complements this: down the stream. Not against the current. With the current. Down the stream. Go with the flow. Row your boat all you can but go where life takes you. Don’t fight what you can’t fight. Let go. Let the stream of life guide you.  

Then the third line: merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. Merry is such a merry word! It is more infectious than happy, more childlike than joyous, more soulful than cheerful. It is festive and celebratory. And ‘merrily,’ not once, but four times! Whatever happens in life, make merry. Live in the moment, enjoy it while it lasts. Celebrate life.

And the best for last: life is but a dream. And that’s why you should make merry. For all that you do and care and laugh and cry, know that this world and everything that you hold as real, is an illusion. A bubble. A speck in the eternity of space-time. A little wave that thought it was something else but went back to being the stream. If this isn’t sheer Vedanta, what is?

Ladies and gentlemen, here for your viewing pleasure, my new guide to Life, the Universe and Everything:

 

A bit of magic

Many moons ago, when I was a kid of about 7 or 8, we lived in the middle of the city in a one-bedroom, tin-roofed shack on the terrace of an old house. Summer nights under a tin roof in seaside Chennai can be unimaginably hot. So we usually poured buckets of water on the red-tiled terrace (which tended to disappear quickly), spread grass mats and slept in the open. My dad in the middle with me and my 4-year old sister on each side. All of us looking up at the blue sky with its interminable array of puffy clouds moving slowly. We were busy picking out shapes of course. “Look, there’s an elephant!” “That’s a dragon!” “Here’s a little girl!” “That’s a king!” Shapeless stories were cooking in our heads as we watched those shapes form and re-form in those vast expanses. One day I asked, “Where are the clouds going?”  My wise dad replied, “These clouds have had a big drink from the sea. They’re really full-up and can’t move too fast. They drift slowly on to land and pour out all the water as rain.” Pretty standard, maybe. But for a 7-year old? Magical! (also, my dad shares his poetics with Kālidāsa! The great poet uses the same allegory in his Ṛtusaṁhāra or Meghadūta?) I think my love-affair with the sky started one of those hot summer nights. More on my sky-obsession one of these days.

The story now is that, one of the first things I wanted to show N. was the sky. For a baby, the bright day sky is a bit much but still, she quickly caught my “Hello Sūrya Bhagvān!” and learned to look for the sun. The night sky was trickier. Try as I might I couldn’t get her to look at the moon because every time she looked up, she was distracted by street lights and other light pollution. I would say, “Look, baby, look, there’s the moon!” And she’d blink at the neon lights and not follow my finger! Till one night. She looked past the lights and saw the yellow disc against the dark sky. And oh what a wonderful expression on her face! She was transfixed for a few seconds. And then her eyes lit up. She beamed as if in recognition. And laughed. And stretched out her hands as if to call out... She was so enthralled. No amount of electricity and shining lights can match that spontaneous wonder! I was thrilled to see her thrilled. And I felt somehow that I had served my purpose as mother that day. To have shown your child the moon, what more can a mom ask for? :)

Happy birthday little one!

Today, my daughter turns 2 years old. She was born under the Krittika star (Plaeides constellation), in the month of Vaikasi, a couple years ago. Life of course hasn't been the same since. She took a long time deciding to come to me. They always say, the wait has definitely been worth it. That's true. But more importantly, waiting for her has changed me as a person. The best part of having had to wait is knowing, what I would otherwise have lost precious years figuring out, what she means to me, what she really is.

I hear you ask, so what is she really? Apart from being a lovable little minx who chatters nineteen-to-the-dozen, gets her way around most people, makes friends with cats and dogs and pigeons and caterpillars, feeds crows and houseflies (yes), blows kisses to strangers (sigh), who calls me by name, with a twinkle in her eyes  and who's forever setting up danger zones with water she's generously pouring all over the house... I think about this little bundle of energy and wisdom and happiness. You know what she really is? She is my pole star, my conscience. The daughter who made a mother out of a woman.

Which brings me to this blog. This has been in my head ever since my first few days with N. I envision this as a space that will keep me honest as a mom. Make me stick to first principles through shaky roads. That will help clear my head. Will be my support system as I always put my baby first. Also, there's this thing. There's a clear BeforeBaby/AfterBaby to my life. One moment, I was chugging along just fine. Before I knew it, I was seeing children as never before, seeing situations as never before, painfully aware without even trying as to how that thing would affect them in the years to come. And I want to share this new understanding. Well, if nothing else, just a little love, a little wisdom, a little rant - something that will document the adventures of my not-so-shiny (stained-with-curd-rice-most-of-the-time) new avatar. 

PS: For you, baby.  Happy birthday. Life and love.