Father of two daughters

                “Good morning! Good morning! How are you? Just fine!”                 Long time ago, we had bought a doll for Shaivi which sang to these lines when it was picked up. She was very fond of it. However, these or similar words come out of my mouth, and not the doll’s, on the morning of every school day.                 The response is typical. Complete silence.                 My wife gets up a few minutes before me, and gets busy for the kitchen. Even I can cook, but my culinary skills are limited and my daughters have very specific demands for their lunch. Hence it has been decided that whenever my wife is around, the responsibility to prepare and pack lunch falls on...

  “I want to go swimming,” declared my younger daughter.                 I have been known for pushing my daughters towards sports and physical activities. It was a hot summer day when swimming was the only option for activity. The swimming pool was barely a hundred meters from my house. Yet, the statement filled me with a sense of guilty pain.                 Shaivi had been suffering from a severe form of seasonal allergy in her eyes. She was on heavy medications, which gave her much relief. However, her previous visits to the swimming pool had greatly aggravated her suffering, and we were scared for her vision.                 And yet she stood, her swimming costume in her hand, even as her elder sister came out fully dressed in swimming costume ...

            “Let’s just go home” sobbed my daughter. It was the third or fourth day at the new school – her sixth school till date - and my wife had gone to pick up our elder daughter. But instead of the beaming angelic face of Aadya that my wife was used to seeing at the end of a long day, she saw a vision of a long-faced girl who was fighting her tears. Enquiries elicited the above reply before she burst into tears. My wife spent another half minute in trying to figure out what was wrong without much success, and then took the young lady to the car parked in full June sun. After a few minutes, with the AC turned on and the school a few hundred meters away came the story, punctuated with sobs and tears. She had been caned by her teacher. Since she was a late admission, she was not aware that her geography teacher had given lots of homework. She was one of thirty odd students who did not submit her homework, and they were a...

            I vividly remember the day when my younger one went to pre-school.             It was five years ago. She was two. We had been preparing her mentally for the concept of school – a place where there would be no mummy or papa, or even nanaji (grandfather), but where she would still have a lot of fun. My elder one had contributed to the process by telling about the fun she had with her teachers and friends. She was somewhat convinced, but was still apprehensive.             The school was the ground floor of a neighbouring building. The walls were colourful and had a lot of cartoon characters – that surely was a good omen. The teacher was friendly, and talked very sweetly. She did not use her pet name, but called her Shaivi. This was a sign that she was being treated like a big girl – a girl ready to go to ...

I love to play. I am not a national champion in any game. In fact, I can play only a few games, and am not very good in any game that I play. But I love to go out and play. I am blessed, in a way. My job ensures that I regularly interact with many champions and aspiring sportsmen on a regular basis. I believe that some of their enthusiasm and love for game rubs on me. I have started enjoying the concept of playing, and I am physically more active than most of my colleagues. A spinoff of this situation is that while most parents are rushing their children from school to tuitions, I encourage my daughters to go and sweat it out. Let me tell you about my elder daughter’s typical day. She gets up in the morning – after a lot of coercion, I should add, and my wife and I have to shout our lung out to ensure that she is in time for the school. She is rarely late, though. In fact, she looks forward to school – speaks volumes about our success in the choice of school and art of pare...

“Children are a gift from the Gods”             We have all heard the saying. Not having a male child is still considered to be synonymous with a failed marriage. It seems that the entire purpose of marrying is to produce a male offspring.             The reasons for a very clear male preference are numerous. I have tried to sum up a few from the point of view of my relatives and elders. Sons will carry forth the family name.        This is the first point that all elders come up with. It is closely associated with children keeping their father’s name, not their mother’s. And it is quite true. Perhaps that is why it is always brought out first. Thankfully, the society is giving greater credits to the achievements of the girls as well, and your daughter stands an equal chance of making you proud if you provide her with an equal opportuni...

Let me begin at the very end. We made a list of likely names based on a simple google search each time, and came up with the final options. My wife and I deliberated on these and decided on the name.              While that is the truth about choosing the name, the matter was not as simple. The chief problems included: 1.                   We did not know the sex of any of the children prior to birth. (Disclaimer: It is illegal in India to try to find out the sex of the child prior to birth. It is a punishable criminal offense, and for a very good reason.   I fully stand by the law of the country and I do not advocate sex determination prior to birth.) 2.                   Many relatives had laid claim to the right of naming the child when the time came....