Raks and Dasavatharam Part 2

We continued the story later in the night...

"Churning for amrit is a long process....

"How long?"

"The time that you take to finish one bowl of chochos in the morning!" That got a frown from her and she bid me to get back to the story.

Poisonous vapours came out but Shiva drank them all to save the Devas. And then finally Danvanthri came holding the jar of amrit.

"What's amrit? Does it taste like Jelly?"

"Ha ha ha. It tastes like milk."

Raks was horrified. Why would anyone want to lift mountains, drop them in the ocean and churn it, to get milk in the end, of all things? She barely listened to the rest of the story when Vishnu dons the mohini avatar. To her mind, people should go through all these efforts to avoid this 'amrit'.

Next came varaha avatara but she didn't have any special insights for the divine boar. Next came Vamana. And I was waiting for her to ask the following question, "Mummy, how did he grow so big? And my answer naturally would have been the wonder milk that mother Aditi was giving him. But no, her question was, "This vamana asked for stupid things as a boon. I would have asked for a trip to fun city, a large bowl of ice cream and unlimited episodes of Doreamon."

Next came Narasimha. And this is what she says. "Mummy! What will you do if I call Narasimha when you are chasing me with the milk?"

Gulp!

Parashurama came and went without an incident and then Rama. While I read through the part where Ravana is waiting for lakshmana to leave the cottage in search of Rama, raks whispers to Sita. "Sita! Sita! You also go with lakshmana. Then you can fool ravana."

Ayyo! So much for culture. I think I better check out that sloka class instead.

Raks and Dasavatharam

It began on that day when my husband and I wanted to check out the new pub that has opened in the neighbourhood. The idea was to reclaim the carefree moments of pre raks days when I didn't say 'no' to an impromptu trip to Pondicherry citing school. With raks at my mother's house, we went 'pubbing'. Music was great, drinks were good and the atmosphere was electrifying and we soaked in, barring a few phone calls to my mom to check whether she ate or not.

Reminiscing about the past, we spent an odd hour, until a teenage girl wearing micro mini came and sat at the next table. Following her was a teenage boy, who sat next to her 'coochicooing'. And alarm bells started ringing for both of us.

'We need to bring up raks in a devout manner.'

Hmm...

'Let us put her in a sloka class. Carnatic music class, Kolam class, Cooking class...'

Now I had to say something. 'First of all I don't think there is a 'kolam' class in the area. '

'Ok. What I mean to say is that, we need to make sure she learns our heritage and culture.'

The couple next to us had gone on to the dance floor and were vigorously dancing.

'We need to teach her about our culture.'

Hmmm. How to teach culture to raks? So I got her Amar Chitra Katha editions of Dasavataram, Hanuman, Stories of Rama etc.

The first in line was Dasavataram. Ever since Raks recited all the names of the avatars accurately and chronologically (passing the pop quiz test that every kid is put to in a tambrahm family) I had been meaning to get it for her.

And we started on Matsya avatar...

Brahma loses the vedas and it escapes from his mouth because he is fast asleep.

Raks: Why did Brahma yawn so big? That's why it escaped. Does he snore as loud as grandfather?

Me: Do you want to hear the story or not?

So we continued... she was enamoured by the fact that Maha Vishnu took the shape of a fish and grew as big as a whale within no time. Though she was put out when I mentioned that the secret of his growth was milk. (I had my own agenda along with imparting culture too.)

Next was Kurma Avatara.

Raks: This Indra is one waste guy.

I was inclined to agree. And the Devas and Asuras could not lift Mount Mandara because they both didn't have any strength, coz they too hid under the bed, sofa and the dining table when their mothers brought out the milk.

When Vishnu makes an appearance as Kurma avatara, Raks was busy tying my dupatta on the arm of the sofa and pulling at it while the other end was with her grandfather churning the nectar. Thankfully he didn't realize that he represented the asuras.

They churned and churned, until Raks's friend from downstairs came to whisk her away to play.

More updates on her cultural education later...