Accidental CEO Strategic Mom
Saturday, August 16, 2025
Say What?
Friday, April 18, 2025
Digender’s World
We moved to
this town a few months ago. Mommy put me in a nearby school. I go to my new school
only to play. They want all students to sit down, so I sit with my books for
some time. Then I am off again, catching Pratham, teasing Ruansh and jostling
with Rishu.
When English
teacher makes us recite poems, I sit with my group and move my lips, copying
others as if I know the words. I don’t know the words. I know she looks at each
one of us, so I move my lips a lot.
Yesterday,
she asked who all had a bath before coming to school. I was afraid she would
look at me, so I tried to hide behind Prakriti, the tallest girl in the school.
Mommy gives me a bath on Sundays. Last Sunday, she was at a new construction
site. So, no bath for me.
Luckily,
Ruansh spoke up saying he did not even wash his face this morning. Everyone
started to talk to him or about him. I was safe.
After
school, I play more, mostly with Aman. He is my best friend, even though he is
in Class 5 and in another school. Our favourite thing to do is to jump over
water channels. Sometimes both of us jump in the water and scream because its
so cold.
We climb
trees if there are fruits to pluck. I like sour oranges the most. Wild pears
are nice too, but one has to wait for them to be soft. The hard ones are
bitter.
We race
across meadows. Aman wins each time. Maybe one day, when I am older and taller,
I will be faster than him.
We jump over
the gate of Palak’s house to play with her dog Kalu. Kalu is a funny dog. He
likes to run round and round in the front yard when he sees us. We chase him.
Palak’s mother shouts at us to get off her vegetable patch.
Mommy has
enrolled me in a tuition class near our house. I go there every day and make
sure didi sees me. I sneak out after sitting quietly for some time.
A few days
ago, English mam was walking near my house in the evening. She saw me before I
could hide and said “Digender, wear a sweater.” I pointed to my yellow T-shirt,
and said “I am wearing one.” I don’t know what’s the big deal about sweaters.
Yesterday, I
was pretend studying in the tuition class when Aman signalled to me to come
outside. He took me to where mam was sitting on a rock. She gave me a jacket
and insisted I wear it right away and every day. I put it on and ran away. As I
was running, I heard her say "At least say thank you Digender!"
That night,
mommy asked me where I got the jacket from. I pretended not to hear. She got
busy cooking dinner and forgot about the jacket.
I did not take it off as I slid into my bed. One minute I was awake and another minute I was in deep sleep. All night, I dreamt about water channels, meadows, trees, and Aman.
Wednesday, February 5, 2025
The Many Shades of Emotions
I looked in the mirror one last time. My hairstyle looked good. The new gel is doing the job it promised, I thought to myself.
I didn’t
realize that Kiran, my little sister, was in my room and watching me. When our
eyes met, she ran her hands in her hair and twisted her body, exaggerating my
pose. I chased her out of my room. Can’t I have any privacy in this house?
In school, I
looked out for Anaira all day. She didn’t come to class. She wasn’t in the
canteen at lunch break. Where was she? Had anything happened to her? These
thoughts filled my head. I couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else.
Not even
Sid’s silly jokes could uplift my mood, and they were aplenty.
I saw Anaira
as I stepped out of the music class. She was in the corridor, talking to
someone. Just looking at her, it felt as if a load was lifted from my
shoulders.
She smiled
when she looked up and saw me. Her smile lit up the corridor. As I walked
towards her, I felt I was walking on clouds.
Until I saw
who she was with. It was Anshul - everyone’s favourite Head Boy!
She told me
that her cycle was stolen in the morning, which was why she couldn’t come to
classes on time. But Anshul had seen some young boys with her cycle and managed
to get it back.
I didn’t
hear the details. I just kept thinking why it wasn’t me who had found her
cycle. Why did I sit in classes instead of finding out what was wrong? Why was
Anshul always the hero?
On my way
back, Sid joined me. We had plans to play basketball in the park. When I told
him about Anaira’s cycle, he said it seemed all too convenient that Anshul
happened to see the boys with the cycle. Too convenient!
It suddenly
became clear to me. It had to be Anshul’s scheme to gain Anaira’s
attention, like in old Hindi movies! Anshul is more than capable of such a
stunt. What a scheming dog!
I ran back
towards Anaira’s house to share this thought with her, hoping to see her before
she went inside. I wanted to avoid her mother, who always looked at me as if I
was a worm. Her father was different- kind and gentle, though he was a famous
lawyer. I looked up to him and wanted to be like him when he grew up.
When I saw
Anaira, she was standing with Shalini outside her house. I wanted to tell her
what I had realized about Anshul, but suddenly felt awkward. What if I was
wrong? What proof did I have? What if she thought I was the one scheming to
make Anshul look bad?
As I stood
there staring at them tongue tied, Shalini started laughing. I felt like a fool
and wished I had never come there.
Anaira
hushed Shalini and came towards me, still holding her cycle. She asked me if
she could borrow my notes for today’s classes that she had missed, adding that
I had the best notes in the class. Best Notes!
I took out
my notebooks and handed them to her, without saying a word. I didn’t mention
Anshul and my suspicions to her. He just
wasn’t important in that moment.
As I walked
back towards where Sid was waiting for me, I felt that the world was beautiful
again!
Note: I wrote this story to talk about emotions to a group of young men, who believed there were only three emotions- happy, sad and angry. This story demonstrates several shades of these basic emotions including Pleased, Irritated, Anxious, Miserable, Relieved, Elated, Disappointed, Jealous, Furious, Inspired, Shy, Embarrassed, Proud, and Joyful.
The Clever Mouse Meets his Match
This morning, I was sitting on my balcony and sipping tea. I could see my cat Lipi in the garden below.
It had been
raining since last night. The garden was wet and muddy.
Lipi was
trying to catch a mouse. The mouse was very clever. As soon as Lipi came near
it, it would hide in the bushes. There was a big puddle in front
of the bushes. The mouse was safe because Lipi was afraid of the puddle.
"Silly Lipi," I said to myself. She was willing to get
wet in the rain, but not in the puddle.
She wasn’t a silly cat, after all! My Lipi was as clever as the clever mouse, if not more!
A Gift for Suhani!
Madhavi was very sad. Suhani had invited Madhavi for her birthday party. But Madhavi didn’t have a gift for her. Her father had lost his job last month. She simply could not ask him for money for a gift.
She decided she will not go to the party. “I
will say I am not feeling well”, she thought to herself. But Suhani will
feel very bad. They were best friends after all!
Lost in thoughts, Madhavi stepped out into her
garden. Her mother was clearing the weeds in the garden.
She saw Madhavi and asked her why she looked so sad. Madhavi kept quiet.
Her mother cut a bunch of red and yellow Marigold flowers and asked Madhavi to put them in a flower
vase.
As Madhavi held the flowers in her hands, she got an idea!
She went inside her room. She picked up her favourite red and
yellow ribbon and tied it around the flowers. She then placed the birthday
card she had made for Suhani next to it. It looked like a beautiful
gift!
Madhavi will be going to Suhani’s party tonight
Note: This story is inspired by a story written by my late father-in-law Sukumar Shankar, titled "The Ribbon". That story was also about a birthday gift and how a friend coincidentally found a lost favourite ribbon and used it to tie the birthday gift.
My story has no happy coincidence. Its premise is simply about being creative with whatever resources one has.
Words that don't follow phonics rules: Month, decided, thoughts, favourite, beautiful
The Red Jacket
All the children of the village had gathered in the flat ground in front of her house. The girls played with sparklers, while the boys were going crazy with noisy crackers. There was so much fun to be had that Anya got home later than her usual bed time.
As she took off her jacket, her heart nearly stopped. There was a round hole on the left side near the pocket. How could this happen? Maybe an ember flew off a sparkler and burnt this hole.Before she knew, tears had pooled in her eyes. Her beautiful jacket was ruined. And mother! She would be so angry. She had to hide the jacket someplace no one would find it. Where? Where? Under her mattress!
“Anya, wear
the red jacket today. Your uncle will be so happy to see you in it,” mother
said. “I don’t know where it is,” lied Anya, pretending to look for it. They
were getting late, so the jacket was forgotten.
But mother had not forgotten. The next day, she called Anya to her room and asked her if she had given away the jacket to one of her friends.
Anya was shocked. "How could mother think that? I love that jacket. I love my uncle. I would never give away a gift he gave me!" she thought to herself.
She pulled out the red jacket from under her mattress and brought it to her mother. She expected to be scolded about the dreadful hole,
maybe even smacked, but mom just looked seriously at the jacket and then at her.
A couple of days later, mother came into her room and handed her the jacket.
Sometimes grown-ups have solutions that children like us can’t think of.
Note: This could easily have been a story about the perils of lying, but I stayed away from it. It is about creative solutions to seemingly untenable problems. It is about seeking help when lost.
Words that don't follow phonics rules: Special, usual, flew, ruined, brought, couple
The beautiful illustrations are by Aradhya, a 12-year old friend of my daughter.
But I am not all those things!
Vivan was livid. He had had a massive fight with Aryan during recess. He was still boiling with anger when he reached home. Even when his mother served his favourite meal of Rajama-Chawal, it didn’t elevate his mood.
“I
absolutely hate Aryan. I am never going to play with him again!” he said when
his mother asked him what was wrong. Mother was surprised. The two
boys always played together, even during holidays.
“He is a
cheat,” Vivan added. “You know why he always wins? Because he cheats all the
time! When we play with marbles, he always takes one step closer than allowed. When
we play hide and seek, he counts faster than all of us. And today, he insisted
I got run-out when I had actually reached before the ball hit the wickets!”
“I thought
you guys have an umpire to make such decisions,” mother said.
“Today
everybody wanted to play, so there was no umpire. But I know I was not out. He
just doesn’t listen, mom. Aryan is a cheat. And always so stubborn! He is no fun. I
don’t ever want to play with him again!”
When she saw how distressed he was, mother gathered Vivan in her arms. She hugged him and stroked his hair.
“I am sorry you feel so bad, Vivan. I want you to do something. Imagine for a moment that Aryan is with his mother right now. What do you think he is telling his mother about you right now?”, she asked gently.
Vivan was
quiet for a while. Not that it was a tough question, but he didn't want to answer it. But mother insisted.
“He must be
saying that he doesn’t want to play with me anymore. That I am a bad player and
a sore loser, no fun to play with,” Vivan said reluctantly.
“But I am
not all those things, mom!”, Vivan added with tears in his eyes.
As mother nodded and murmured softly, Vivan closed his eyes and squeezed his tears out. Just before he opened them again, he could imagine Aryan telling his own mother, “But I am not all those things, mom!”
Note: This story is written to start a dialog with young children about perspective and empathy. I wanted to write a story that is not preachy, yet gets the point across, or at least gets children thinking about different perspectives of the same event. It is inspired by my own experience of explaining perspectives to my son when he was 8 years old.