“I need money Mumma.” Hama-Guri said, a little impatiently.
“I have heard that quite a few times since morning, dear. But you have not told me why.”
His mother knew that her child had his reasons. But she wanted to know what it was. In fact, she did not mind giving him a little pocket money when he helped her with some chore in the house. But this sudden demand of his for money that he wanted to take to school sounded a little fishy.
“I can’t tell you Mumma.” Hama replied, just before he put a spoonful of porridge into his mouth.
She looked at him surprised. He had never said such a thing before. Why was he hiding? Rather, what was he hiding?
“Mumma a new boy has joined our class today.” Hama said as he sat down for lunch. “But he’s ugly!”
“Hama!” His father said a little sternly. “Who’s taught you to speak like that?” Read more…
“What happened Hama? Why are you so quiet today?” Mumma said sitting on Hama-Guri’s bed. He had come home from school more than half an hour back. But instead of rushing through the door and kissing her and blabbering all that had happened during the day, he had quietly walked up to his room.
“Umm…Mumma…I’m not feeling good…” Hama said putting his head down on his mother’s lap. Read more…
“Yes Mumma, I know it is 2pm. You taught me how to read the clock last year.” Hama-Guri said as he continued to construct his ship with the Lego pieces.
“It’s lunch time Hama. Stop playing now.” Mumma said standing by his room’s door. Pretty annoyed. The closer he was inching his way towards seven, he was becoming a little stubborn.
“Half an hour Mumma.” Hama said not even looking up to see his mother’s face.
“Fine. I will wait for you for ten minutes and then put all the food away.” She turned around and walked downstairs. Read more…
“Mumma, Ma-Door gets pocket money every week.” Hama said sitting on his bunk bed.
“Hmm.” Mumma replied as she continued to pick up his toys. “But why do you need pocket money? We are there when you need something.”
“But…Mumma…Ma-Door…” Hama scratched his head. What his mother had just said was true. He didn’t really need the pocket money. And yet, it would have been good if he did. Read more…
“Digits of pi is a number that measures the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter. It doesn’t have an ending. So it is an irrational number.” Mumma said as she fluffed up the cushions on the sofas.
“No mum I don’t understand pi. And I don’t know irra…tion..al.” Hama-Guri was completely not amused at his mother’s interest at explaining what pi was. She had been trying for the past half an hour and he had understood nothing. Oh god! Why did she sometimes forget that he was just six? “I just know pie. And all your pi talk makes me want to eat your yummy berry pie.”
“We can do that too.” Mumma said. “But can we do something with that?”
“No we can’t!” Hama screamed. “All I will do is to eat it.”
Mumma shook her head and went into the kitchen. Maybe he was right. Explaining digits of pi to a six year old had probably been stupidity. So, instead, she got herself busy with lunch. And preparing that berry pie for the little one who had tried to understand 3.14 and why it was a never ending number!
“Mumma I am not eating this jam and bread again today.” Hama-Guri whined. “You promised me yummy food today.”
Now how would Mumma tell him that she overslept because of the medicines and so didn’t have time to make his favorite pancakes. It rarely happened but today was just one of those days. She had been feeling it for the past few days and she had been right. The weather change had finally made her get the fever. Read more…
“What happened?” Hama-Guri came and sat beside a new face who sat looking at the blue sky. He had seen him sitting like that for more than ten days now. Every day he used to think that he would come and ask but break time used to get over so quickly that he never got the chance. And he was not in his section so Hama never saw him otherwise.
“What are you doing Mumma? Why are you keeping those potted plants under the water pipe?”
“Because then the water that comes out of this pipe will water these plants and we won’t have to water them separately.”
Hama-Guri remained silent. He wondered why his Mumma would want to do that. Why couldn’t she use the watering pipe from the garden?
“What happened Hama? Why are you sitting there on the garden bench with a frown on your face?” Mumma asked.
“Because I don’t know why you are doing what you are doing.”
“No Hama I will not go!” Wailed his cousin Ba-Chaa. She was four and his maternal first cousin. And they loved each other immensely. They didn’t meet often though because, although in the same town, their homes were quite a distance apart. It was only during times likes these when school was closed for the summer vacations that they met.
“But sis, you love dancing. And aunt told me that you were the one who wanted to join this class.”
Ba-Chaa looked at her big brother, her expression a mix of worry and sadness.
“Something’s happened. Right?” Hama asked. He had been staying at his aunt’s house for more than a week now and he had been noticing that his otherwise extremely chirpy baby sister had turned all quiet. Now he understood that her dance class was the culprit.