Dear Appu,

I can see your eyes narrow and forehead pucker as you recognize my hand. I can hear the muttered “What” as you read on. There are a hundred little things about you that fill me with wonder and dazzle my intellect, which I would love to talk to you about and, that my dear is the reason behind this communiqué. 

From Day-1, when the doctor handed you a tiny wriggling infant swaddled in baby blankets to me, you have amazed me with your skills and capabilities extraordinaire. Everything about you augured a future of brilliant achievements. Your toothless grin at something that your besotted dad said was a sure sign that you’d grow up to be a diplomat travelling to nations and peoples on peace missions. The way your eyes lit up when you saw me said in no uncertain terms that you’d grow up to be caring, kind and sensitive. And the attention with which you listened to the doctor’s voice and watched as he jotted down orders suggested that you were going to be the brain surgeon, who with his magic scalpel would set right the degenerate tendencies of the present day human race.

And as days go by I must say, you continue to fulfill and even exceed my expectations. Especially now in your TEEN-AGE, you amaze me with your ever increasing repertoire of skills and capabilities, both physical and mental- 

For instance, listening to music via earphones and watching two different games on two different channels on TV, while doing Math homework. I’m astonished at the ease with which you combine chores in effective time management! 

Or, talking to a friend on the cell phone as music blares out of the car stereo while driving me to work. I am awestruck by your expertise in negotiating the rush hour traffic that I clutch the sides of my seat and recite the Lord’s Prayer!!

And, the skill with which you put together new software for the computer and program the VCR to record the Super Bowl next year tickles my maternal pride no end. And, ‘in willing suspension of disbelief’, I overlook the fact that the simple mechanics of using a vacuum cleaner or a washing machine has eluded you!!!

Your language skills, both oral and written, constantly render me speechless. When I ask you to return some books the library, you say “Yes”. And I pay the late fee or the cost of the books when I next go there.

I ask you what you want for dinner. You say, “Anything”. I cook rice and half a dozen side dishes. You take one look at the dinner table and say: “Give me anything. Not these…”

Back home from work, I see this note stuck on the microwave: “Sara, 4 pm” I am impressed by the telegraphic brevity of the message. But please, could you or anyone else decipher who this Sara is and what is at 4 pm on what day and above all, if the message is meant for me or my husband.

There are also umpteen other things about you which baffle my powers of comprehension. Like, how do you keep your pants hanging round your middle defying the Laws of Gravity? Why do you buy designer-ware when you wear only torn jeans and grey T-shirts? How do you subsist on soda and chips, in spite of repeated warnings by health freaks? How do you write the essay on ‘the Morbidity in Moby Dick’ while chatting with some stranger in Norway?

I have referred all the books and consulted every specialist available on these phenomena: but I am yet to get satisfactory explanations. I belong to the old school called “MOTHERS” and am, according to your lofty standards, dumb. So, would you, my dear NEWTON-MILTON-EINSTEIN rolled -into -one, kindly explain? 

With Love,

Mom 

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