Land of Lilliputians

Poetic and practical is the get-well package that Apple has brought me. Only we adults can think of just a clichéd get-well card. Apple is more original.  What I get is a complete get-well package aimed at my burnt-beyond-recognition finger. The package takes care of many emotional as well as mundane aspects of being unwell.  As I look at the red card that dangles on a red ribbon, read the reassurance on it, and admire the painted bouquet of pink and mauve flowers where a heart is precariously perched on a petal, Apple asks me to rummage inside the envelope.  I grope inside and scoop out the first item, a scale. I feel excited. It is like a treasure hunt and I want to know what I will find next, so fumble for more and this time take out another exciting object: a ballpoint. I can now not only practice drawing straight lines-something which I could never learn- but can also rediscover the joy of writing with the good old ballpoint. And this means ...

Mobby has a way of getting up in the morning and making pronouncements about the things that had been bothering him the night before. And on one particular morning he wakes up and immediately gets into a sitting position.  Something apparently weighs heavy on his 3-year-old-mind.  Without even rubbing his eyes, he declares: “I don’t want any baby sister, give me a few more brothers.” Amma is worried. She thinks ‘Is Mobby making a prediction of sorts?” After all, there are no imminent signs of any baby. Baba knows that his younger son always has a well-thought-out logic behind every pronouncement. So he probes with “Why not a baby girl?” Mobby, it seems, has reached the important conclusion after much deliberation. Throughout the night, he probably has been weighing the pros and cons of having a baby sister.  His well-considered response is based on empirical findings:  “Because amma is a girl and she is in the kitchen all the time. She does...