Exams just got over for the little ones and the excitement of a new class and new books is palpable already. Don’t you remember pulling out your English reader and reading it from cover to cover before any covering and labeling of books began, I did that every single time, every year .. and in the middle of the excitement an inane question from my eight year old caught me off-guard ..got me thinking .. and this is what i want to share with my friends over a cuppa.
He quietly said ..Mamma its been two years here, where are we going now? What language do those people speak(at the new place)? But my friend’s birthday is in august how will I attend that?
This tugged at all my heartstrings, it broke just a little bit,…. but then I am MAMMA.. the panacea for everything that could ever go wrong so I have to put it all into an exiting perspective and put it across to him in a way that is readily acceptable. We are an army family, mobility is our way of life, every two years we move anywhere unexpected thorough out the length and breadth of the country, we leave behind our little worlds, and make new ones from scratch.
How do I explain to this little child that he may actually not be there for his friends birthday party, but there will surely be other friends that he’ll make and there will still be kiddie birthday parties. And then there is Facebook now and Whats-app and e-mails, he can forever have his friends, just like I do, he may not grow up with them but he will mature with many, he will still be able to laugh at the little jokes that he shared with his friends and have an unbreakable bond with them. Connectivity is the blessing of his generation and he must make the best use of it.
I guess I’ve got to be there with him through all these transitions, give him the security he so needs and also be his one continuous friend … and that he will still have a new class, new books and maybe a new school and a new place too…and thus…Life goes on …
This story has been shared by Smita Ranjan Keron, an army wife and a mother of two. A heartfelt narration of what her kids endure with the multiple moves that an army life comprises of.
March 19, 2014 at 1:00 am
“..We leave behind our little worlds and start from scratch..” Buddha would be proud if he hadn't trancended pride. Nice Smita!!very heartfelt.
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March 19, 2014 at 4:17 am
I could so identify with your story . My sister and i had a similar childhood . It was so difficult for us to say good bye to our friends almost every 1.5 years . Mid session adjustments etc etc .. Very well put Smita .
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March 19, 2014 at 4:29 am
Many thanks ..! !im humbled ..!have turned buddhist too , at least in the mind (who has time for trivialities)..in my own search for moksha and peace !!
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March 19, 2014 at 11:37 am
To stay while you have to leave ..is that deep lingering dilemma many such a vagabond embraces ….sometimes as a mamma like you or like a bebo like your little rockstar ! Every word a piece of life ..a life you lead ..a life you follow …
A piece of that string like heart remains in places strewn around …somewhere in those missed birthday parties …those awaiting to bloom flowers you planted last fall……those friends you shared your cup of life with ..over last winters frosty evening !
That string like heart gallops from places new and afar …the seeds awaiting seeking some fresh tilled warm ground …that coffee brewing to be poured in a new cup …that new boy smiling to meet his new friend …
This journey remains ..destinations infinite …friends defined …connected through life ..connected for life .!
Beautiful ..rendition Smita …a story we move through ..a story that we gather …save in our heart …save for our soul ….of love that is moving …of life that is still …from places you go …the winds then come in to fill!
Go on my vagabond friend …
My coffee awaits …
The bird that you are …
Will come by my sill….
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March 19, 2014 at 12:26 pm
OMG chandrima ..this had to be you …super touched ..bleary eyed almost …thank you …love what you write !!!!no ordinary moment this !!
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March 19, 2014 at 12:30 pm
Thank you Smita …words are all but love …sprinkled like the grains of sugar and salt through life' s Ordinary moments ….who but you could identify ….adore you always …love Chandrima
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May 29, 2014 at 5:01 am
The story of my nomadic life i'd say….and how very succinctly put! The plethora of emotions that most feel but few can articulate so well. Thank you, Smitaji.
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May 30, 2014 at 6:44 am
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May 30, 2014 at 6:46 am
My friend The icarus !!!thank you so much !im so glad you came to my perch and spent a little time here …wishing for you newer and stronger than ever wings ..every time you burn yours ..dont ever stop soaring …
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