One of the biggest promotions that I have ever received in my life has been fatherhood. It has changed my life totally and for the better. It is an amazing blend of excitement and anxiousness. As days passed by, an important activity has been added to my growing list of “must-do” items. I have to take my son out for a walk in the evenings, within the premises of our residential quarters. This is an activity that I have to do every day. Every day. This has led to interesting social interactions for both the baby and his doting father, read me.

The place where most of the kids congregate has been what is known as the ‘sandpit’. It is the children’s play area, which is a big rectangular plot of land filled with sand. It is divided roughly into 2 square portions. It contains rudimentary remains of a swing in one of the portions, along with a sea-saw and a climber, shaped like a big metallic globe in the other. They have withstood the tests of time and extreme weather conditions. The sand in the sandpit is replete with sea shells and small conches, just to give that feeling of playing in the beach to the children indulging in sandpit.

Our quarters are located in a relatively greener part of the city and the tree cover right next to the sandpit is good. There are three huge tall trees overlooking the sandpit and they are generous in sharing their treasures with the whole world, including the sandpit. So we can find leaves, seeds, broken twigs and branches on the sand bed. All this translates into excellent, natural, and eco-friendly play toys for the kids. The competition for having the largest sword (read: tree twig) among the kids can get a bit nasty though.

This world of sandpit is also co-inhabited by a variety of ants. Spiders and worms are rare. Weather in this part of the world is extreme. It is usually very hot during the entire year, but rains pour down for a good 3-4 months. All this has visibly taken a toll on the sandpit.

I was initially glued to my mobile phone during my “walks”. The academician in me was busy tagging loose ends on my mobile after a days’ hectic work. It took some time for me to realize that all the actual action was out in the real world and not in my virtual world. Sandpit is usually everyone’s blind spot. Its located just beyond the parking lot for cars and nobody seems to bother much about it. It is just there.

The following are some of the snippets that has amazed and amused me over the period of 3-4 years.

Lingua Franca

The first thing that hit me during my walks was the language of the children. Depending on their age, they are at different stages of learning their communication and socialization skills. Some just manage to articulate a few words, while there are a few kids who are very verbose and ‘scholarly’. Wren and Martin, the authors of the famous book on English grammar would wince with pain, scream in horror, frown with discontent, yet manage a feeble smile at the end of the day or, at the end of the evening rather. Not to forget the tastes and preferences, the likes and dislikes of one Mr. Shakespeare and all of his elite clan.

“I wented out yesterday”, “My father bringed it for me”, “You catched it?”, the list is endless. Every single day, they use, misuse, abuse all the rules and laws of the world’s second most spoken language, English. Reviewers of scientific journals would sneer and growl at such language and immediately reject the paper, just on grounds of language. All communications among children are essentially anchored on two simple concepts. If they are happy with their company or with the proceedings, they laugh, smile, giggle, give out a belly laugh and all is fine. If there is some dissonance between them and people and/or things around them, they cry. It can be a frown, a sigh, a feeble cry, a shriek, a loud cry, a yelling cry and a telling cry. Whatever is between these two extremes is beyond my realms of comprehension. Joining their conversation in between is beyond the realms of possibilities.

Discussions among children can be a lot more serious than those between an ardent student clarifying his doubts with the lecturer at the end of a long lecture in the afternoon. It can be more focussed than those between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin contemplating on foreign policies, Satya Nadella and Bill Gates discussing market trends during the times of economic depression. It may be more grave than the discussion between Virat Kohli and MS Dhoni about the field placings during the penultimate over of T20 World Cup finals while defending a meagre total, or between ISRO and NASA about rocket science. These discussions are full of passion, emotion and well, ultimately commotion.

Paraphernalia

            Kids end up using almost anything as their toys. New entrants into the sandpit tend to come with brand new toys. There can be the official, formal set of beach toys. Some kids use their vehicles such as cycles, skateboards, tricycles, to commute the long distance of 25 steps from their homes to the sandpit. Some come with bats, football, and other such things of varying sizes and bright colors. But the main item for playing is essentially the sand in the sandpit and the main tool is their bare hands.

            Some take up the task of digging a tunnel to the “end of the world”, some build castles and islands, some build boats, ships, submarines and what not. They even make pizzas out of sand. Juice is usually complementary.

Universal suffix

One of the most critical communication strategies that I have learnt during my brief stints at the sand pit has been about an universal suffix. This can turn any word into a question. By adding “aaaa” as the end of every word, the word is magically transformed into a question. “Bike-aaa?”, “Car-aaa?”, “You-aaaaa?”, “Me-aaaaa?”, “Going-aaaaaa?”, “Coming-aaaaa?” “not playing-aaaa?”. The list is endless. This has to be accompanied by a frown like expression on the face, with a tweaking of the eyebrows, wrinkling of the forehead, a slight discontentment on the face and the look of big question mark in the eyes. This is a good strategy to throw questions back at the clueless students answering their viva-voce or during seminars and journal clubs.

Just overheard

The other aspects relate to profound knowledge that I could accrue over a period of time during my evening rendezvous, more than anything I have ever learnt in any post graduate seminar.

• “The ultimate source of all stones is the earths’ crust”. This boy is going to be a professor.
• “When you throw anything, it goes into ‘space’”. He is absolutely right!! This kid is a genius. He is going to be a scientist.
• One kid remarked that “Everyone was small before” in a nonchalant tone. Profound.
• “I will give you injunction (injection) now”. A doctor in the making. But I believe he has to pursue his masters and then super specialization.
• “I am elderer than you!!” yelled my son. Finally, he realized. Somewhere in the receding vaults of my shrinking memory, I could hear William Wordsworth’s expression “The child is father of the man”
• A 4-year-old to another 4-year-old: “When I was small, I used to ride those small cycles”. He dropped his hand below his knees to show how small was “small”
• One diligent kid took upon the humungous task of transferring the sand from one portion of the sandpit to the other using a green plastic shovel, the working end of which was smaller than his small palms. I slowly mustered enough courage to enquire, very gently and very politely, as to why he was doing it. He shot back carelessly saying “Somebody has to it!!” and continued to focus with his task at hand. So much for civic responsibility.  
• One fine evening, a girl just declares that she is the queen and perches herself on top of the swing. Her rules are simple. All the other boys and girls should come to her and talk in foreign languages and give the queen a gift that is befitting her highness, her majesty. The bunch of kids diligently followed the orders of their newly crowned queen. They introduced themselves in Italian, French, Russian, exotic Zulu and Swazi tribal languages. The gifts were more exotic. From Kohinoor to emeralds, from pasta to paratha, the queen was pacified by these exquisite gifts. All this was with very liberal servings of laughter, fun and frolic. All throughout the charade, the eternal words of Vince Lombardi, the American football coach that “Leaders are not born, they are made” was ringing in my ears.

Turning point

The most unexpected event happened when I had to step in to the sandpit without my slippers. It was then that thunder struck me, lightening hit me, I could hear angels singing and I could see stars. It was liberating. I could feel all the shackles break within me. It was relaxing. I felt free to jump, shout, laugh and yell at the top of my lungs. Traces of civility left in me stopped me though. It was wonderful. I felt young all over again. It was exciting. I realized that there are many things left to explore. It was awesome. It was the most awesome-est thing that has happened to me of late.

            From then on, the moment I step out of my house for a walk with my son, I enter a different world. A world of limitless imagination and endless possibilities, fun beyond measure, and experience beyond comparison. A guile-less world.

Technology transfer

Sandpit is also the area where most of the parents bump into each other while supervising their wards’ exploits. It is usually the mothers who accompany the kids for their outings, but not always. There can be fathers, grandparents, nannies, aunts, uncles and the whole lot who can land at the sandpit.

I also realized that interacting with kid’s caretakers can be a resourceful experience. I did get a fair idea about a wide variety of aspects such as feeding, clothing, crèche, schools, which were relatively mundane and pedestrian to contemplate on. I also got an opportunity to address more serious and grave matters pertaining to political climate in the state, and neighbouring states and the nation; picking the players for national cricket team, economic situation in India (and the whole world of course!!).

A vast majority of them, including me, have one distinct characteristic. We all want good things in life such as kids, family, but like a piece of cake. Just like that. Without any problems, without losing sleep and patience and temper and sanity and what not. Like how we want publications, grants and research projects. Just. Like. That. Of ordinary mortals and frail human beings.

All these discussions are held simultaneously when my son is planning to whack another kid with a plastic shovel, which he thought was a very powerful spade. Or when one kid is planning to bathe the other kid with sand, or when kids are fighting over who can jump the highest and the longest from the climber. It can be a tough ask to maintain a healthy balance between supervising children and indulging in discussions about saving the world. Much like one of those WhatsApp groups that picks up an interesting topic during a seminar or journal club. We have to keep track of both, one of which is super interesting, while the other is, well, interesting.

Heart break

One fine day, we were told that the sandpit was going to be converted into a parking lot. My heart sank. Many rejoiced about getting a bigger parking lot and a few lucky ones might get a designated parking. I was wondering how will the kids spend time in the evenings. More importantly, how can I keep my naughty brat occupied in the evenings now? For a fleeting moment I thought that I will miss all the excitement that happens in that sandpit and I had a huge knot in my stomach.

The concerned authorities later clarified that the sand pit is only being relocated and not ‘demolished’. It will only be shifted right next to its current position. Okay. No worries. I resigned myself to the divine will and waited. The parking lot came up pretty fast. The construction personnel suddenly jumped to the scene. They quickly spread their paraphernalia and dismantled the sandpit and its contents, making way for designated car parking. The ‘relocation’ act of sandpit though had to wait. Courtesy the rainy season and post-monsoon rains. Shucks.

Hope springs eternal in the eyes of an optimist. I am hopeful that the rains will eventually make way for the relocation act. I am hopeful that the sandpit will reopen to its full glory and splendour. I am hopeful that all the kids get to immerse themselves in the sand and indulge in their perineal tantrums. I am hopeful that I will get to sink my feet in the sand and let the wind blow through my hair again. I am hopeful that I will get to enter the magical world at the sandpit, where imagination is unhindered and served with fun and frolic unlimited.

At the end of the day

We are all bogged down by work and in getting to the important ‘milestones’ in life. Indexed and in-tenure publications, indexed journals, active learning in teaching, funding opportunities and what not. Things become monotonous and we tend to lose that flair in life. All activities become just another boring chore for us. That’s not how it is for the brat pack at sandpit. They approach life with full zest and energy. No holds barred. I realized that life is about fun. They laugh, enjoy and have a rollicking time at the sandpit.

Consciously and subconsciously, we also carry our prejudices, ill-conceived notions and even hatred with us. I envy one aspect of the key players at the sandpit. Their eyes. They see the world without any filters, without any guile, without deceit. I also realized the importance of letting my hair down, and letting the wind blow through my hair, let my feet sink gently into the sand and just let things be.