Rhythm on the rails
A few years ago, a ritualistic visit to the park and a restaurant on weekends was the norm for our family. It had the entire family come out enthusiastically, mainly to cater to the youngest member, my two-year-old grandson Arjun.
Standing in the serpentine queue to buy tickets at the entrance of the Cubbon Park had its charm. As soon as we entered the vestibule, Arjun would be elated, anticipating the merriment ahead.
The sturdy engine driver ensured we were all tucked into the little seats in the toy train carriage. Arjun’s joy knew no bounds as the train chugged along the track, passing over a rickety bridge with murky water underneath, where we saw pathetic-looking coloured fish. We also saw flowers crying to be watered, but the cool breeze on that Sunday morning made them sway like our hair flying in the joyous ride. And Arjun appeared mesmerised.
Unaware of the not-so-clean surroundings, Arjun dashed to play at the kids’ zone after the train ride. He was excited to be out in nature, and indeed, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder! Despite the rough slides, uneven swings, and broken boulders, he enjoyed playing with unmatched energy, and we were catapulting and running after him.
After our sojourn at the park, we would invariably go to the iconic Koshy’s restaurant nearby to have Arjun’s favourite thips (chips), cutlet, and sou dink (soft drink). We were all tired but happy that it had been a morning well spent with the family.
I transformed our outing into a lullaby, which ended with a “hooh” that fascinated Arjun. He was elated at the lyrics and my flat-toned voice didn’t dampen his elation one bit. I started singing like an accomplished singer: “We went to Cubbon Park, hooh. Standing in the queue, hooh...” When I mentioned the fish, he supplemented the colours as bu (blue), geen (green), redge (red), and lello (yellow). The next day, I sang the same lullaby, and as he drifted off to sleep, I crooned the colours in his baby language. He immediately opened his eyes and gave me a quizzical look, as if saying, “Adults can pronounce the names of the colours well”.
Now, as a young lad of 11 years, I tell Arjun that I enjoyed his baby language, and I was on cloud nine when he said he remembered my lullaby.