Sakshi Nanda went from studying Literature to serving the print media and finally settling with two publishing houses who called her editor for a couple of hard-bounds, no more! She writes as a work-from-home mother to realize herself as well as to be read, both – with her nearly 3-year-old boy and her sarkari babu beau as the greatest sources of ideas and inspiration. She stays somewhere ‘Between Write and Wrong’ at sakshinanda.blogspot.in
There is much that nature has to offer a child. Or even a grown up mind. More so, because in our everyday lives there is just no time. No time to appreciate it and feel grateful for it, or even to simply realize its beautiful presence around us.
I write this as a woman who had to leave her mango and litchi trees behind in her home town to make a living out of life. And I speak as a mother to a 3-year-old being brought up in a typical big town flat, sans a garden to weed or trees to climb. Maybe a few potted plants to adorn the balcony, add some green to the concrete. But, that’s about all. It is this that makes me wallow in nostalgia for the color of flowers, but also makes me go that extra step to open nature’s treasure chest for my son to enjoy.
What is it, big or very little, that nature holds within its whorls?
Circling the children’s park stand trees, like sentinels. Their size creates awe in little pairs of eyes, enough to gape at them wide-mouthed on a windy day. Or collect falling leaves in their hands. We scratch open the bark, and look for ants inside. Hopefully not the red ones, which bite. On a more imaginative day, we even expect to find gold coins hidden inside tree holes. Why? Blame it on a Noddy fan and his mother hoping to find a fortune to afford baby food better. Since no coins come our way, we just hug the tree to please it. Maybe it will give us our jack-pot another day? In the meantime, let’s look for Chip and Dale, shall we?
And we started a Leaf Club, with wild leaves and wilder children. Each child sticks the “hairy” leaf of an unpretentious plant on their clothes. Membership ID, no less. What next? Well, whatever it is that you please. As long as you don’t pluck flowers as you run, or trouble ladybirds with your naughty fingers. Be curious, by all means. But be kind to nature around, that’s all. A mother did suggest singing the ‘Ladybird, ladybird, fly away’ song, hoping for it to fly right off the tip of the finger. It means success, she said. Was it me? No, it was my mother.