Seeing What Is

 On Tuesday morning, it was raining cats and dogs.  "Why not candies?" asked my son Nayan.  

"Candies would be like little rocks pelting on our head," I said, "And I'm not sure if we could eat them.."

"Of course, we could," said Nayan who actually doesn't eat much candy in real life.

"It might rain frogs," said Renee Aunty, who knows all about these things.  "It does, sometimes, you know."

"It's raining rhinos and leopards in Arunachal Pradesh," said Ram Uncle who likes a bit of a jaunt now and then.  "All I have been seeing are car wipers."

"On my farm in Maharashtra, it usually rains elephants and hippopotamuses," said Hasmukh Uncle with a smile.  Nayan was worried that the farm animals might get squashed but I said they would probably be wise enough to keep away from the rain.

But after Nayan had sent the video of the rivulet flowing past his bus stop to all his friends, everyone agreed that this was an unusually torrential downpour.

"We used to float paper boats in the water," sad Mona Bua from Kolkata, "But that isn't a good idea because it could clog the drains."

"There are no drains near my bus stop," declared Nayan.  "The next time it rains, I'm going to float a boat."

"We could make a banana leaf boat," said Raghavan aka Appa.  "Did you know that leaf boats are decorated and floated on the river, on Kartik Purnima (the full moon day in the Indian month of Kartik)?  This happens during a festival called Boita Bandana celebrated in Odisha to mark the day when merchants would set sail from the coast of Odisha to Southeast Asia and Sri Lanka for trade. Now it's a festival to mark the ancestral maritime journeys.  There is also a similar festival in Thailand called Loy Krathong."  

No, we did not know any of this (actually neither did he, but a few minutes on the Internet is all it takes).

"Actually,"continued Appa, "Kartik Purnima will be coming up soon, it usually occurs in November.  And look - here's a video showing how to make a banana leaf boat without any pins or staples."

Wow!  Appa sure knows how to ferret out important information.

So we agreed to try and make a banana leaf boat to set sail in the next rivulet we found.

But before we could find a banana leaf, the rain began again.

On Thursday morning, it pitter pattered without warning.  There was no time to find a banana leaf or watch the video but Appa did make a perfect paper boat while the rest of us were rushing to get ready.  I carried the boat carefully for Nayan but as we reached the bus stop, the rain tapered off.  No rivulet!  Not even a reasonable sized puddle.

Nayan was very upset.  Tears trickled down his face.  

I did not take it too seriously.  "Look Nayan," I said, "Look at what all we have around- it's a beautiful day - crisp and clear, the sun has risen, the trees are all saying "Good morning' to you.  We have time for a little walk.  Look at what is, and not at what is not, or you will never be happy."

But he couldn't be consoled or diverted.  So I just let him stand there with tears running down, until the bus arrived.  He wiped his tears off as he sat in the bus and he did not see me wave goodbye.

"Why does this child have to feel so intensely?" I asked Raghavan. 

"Maybe I shouldn't have made the boat.  I did tell him that there would probably not be enough water and we could float it later at home, but I didn't think he would take it so much to heart.  Anyway, it's a learning experience for us, and for him too."

"I told him," I said, "not to miss out on what is by dwelling on what is not, but he wouldn't listen."

"It's okay," said Raghavan, "He will soon get over it."

As I relaxed and thought about it, I realised that it was I who needed to see things as they were.  Yes, it was a beautiful day for me, and not so at that moment for my little son, whose heart was aching because he had imagined and dreamt and so looked forward to floating a boat. ("Pray to the gods for rain," he had told me earnestly).  

But in wondering why Nayan was so upset, I had stopped seeing him for what he is - a boy who is sensitive about things, and there are many things each day that touch his heart.  When I freed myself of judgement, I appreciated the fact that Nayan could feel strongly about things that were important to him, and he could express his feelings without worrying about how others perceived him.  I also know how buoyant he is - that once he is back from school, he will create a giant artificial puddle to float that boat, with much glee and splish-splashing.  And later, Raghavan will watch that video and make that banana leaf boat for a rainy day.  My job will just be to procure that banana leaf from our neighbour's garden (and pray to the God of Rain for a torrent even though our walls are dripping with water). I am gradually learning to see.