So we bid goodbye to a lovely fall-y Berlin-Prague-Vienna (where I not only spent an evening gazing at a full moon over the Charles Bridge
but caught a concert at the Rudolfinum and got my full paisa vasool ODing over Klimt--Berlin was just food, sorry!)
to land right back into Dussehra season in da Dilli.
It has made for interesting conversations.
8am panic attacks by 3 year olds WHERE IS SITA DO-PATTA, MAMA? WHERE IS SITA DO-PATTA?. words that I had never imagined I would hear. He has grown all self righteous my boy, pulling Sita's ghoonghat to her knees as he parades the paper puppet-- a triumphant banner now, while I push him in his stroller to school. "Let her breathe yara", perhaps his words have awakened dormant memories for me, memories of visiting the village a chador covering my face rise to the surface. But his little heart does not relent, apparently my boy has signed up for the Moral Police.
It has made for far more interesting revelations.
"Ravan is so naughty so naughty Mama. HE DOESNT LOOK AT THE GREEN MAN CROSSING THE ROAD. DOESNT LOOK LEFT RIGHT". He is also indignant that Ravan is not returning Sita, but mostly it is the bad traffic sense, folks, bad traffic sense.
I go to sleep giggling at the image of a ten-headed Ravan at the traffic lights looking left right left right left right left right left right left right left right left right left right left right while a Sita squawks at his side trying to wriggle her wrist away.
So Sita sings the blues, and well as he is after all, a three year old, there are squirrels and there is also a big bird in his story. I forget what Arhaan's Big Bird does , I dont think it is deciding the outcome of Presidential Elections in 'Lanka.
Being his mother's son he has sidelined the male protagonist. Ram sounds a bit of a slacker and it all ends when Sita sits in such a bee-yoo-tiful chariot.
The children were invited to take some of their handmade paper puppets home and Arhaan decided on Lakshman and Sita. He quite likes Lakshman, seeing in him a kindred spirit of "Not Exactly Wanting to Be an Over Achiever, bus frame me hona chahiye and be a general good sort".
Yes, that is my boy all right.
Other than giving me an insight into the fascinating world of Ravans and Sitas, he is also teaching me how to blow bubbles. "Just Try Mama. Just Try". I am learning..
Meanwhile the other good bro.