Mom used to say that when she dropped my brother off to kindergarten, he would be the most composed of all the kids. He was a brave, independent child and not afraid of most things ( he's legendary…really!) . Anything novel interested him. But once in the school, the composure was challenged as he saw a dozen kids howling for their mother. Amidst the cacophony of the children, he would look confused over his shoulder and then decide to join in the howl. And there he would be crying, some real, and some crocodile tears looking more at the other kids and less for familiar faces. I have no clue how I was : ) Maybe someone else in my family has stories from my childhood, maybe not. I hope there are some stories.
But the story I like most was of my mom leaving me home alone to pick my brother from school, when I was 2 or 3, and me clambering up the couch to reach the low curtain rod and grab this delicate doll made of sea shells. All I knew was that the white stuff had something to do with the sea (Shomudro in Bengali). The colours painted on it looked good to me and in the process of admiring the tiny doll I obviously dropped it and broke it into a gazillion pieces.
Mom came home to see this apologetic looking kid at the doorway - and she tells me that I ran to her wide eyed and mumbled in baby tongue "Ami Shomuddo Bhenge Diyechi" which loosely means " I broke the sea". She couldn't do much except smile with such overwhelming apology coming from a kid who professed to have broken the mighty sea. And yes, I was spared the spanking and the tale was passed around to all and sundry.
Am home alone again, and know that even if I break all the sea shells around - she ain't coming by to chide me and make me understand that I can't break the sea.
And after all these years, maybe I do really miss all her nagging and bullying and coaxing.
Coming to think of it...lemme try dropping one of those bone china cups - just to be sure that she really doesn't spring up from thin air to give me a piece of her mind :)