A WORD (OR TWO HUNDRED) FROM THE EDITOR

Waiting for our table at a restaurant, we got chatting with a young couple ahead of us. They had a little boy in tow, a very chatty little boy. With a clear understanding of his place in the universe. “Do you have a brother or sister?” he asked. “I’m a brother,” he announced proudly, patting his mother’s belly which just happened to be exactly at his eye-level.

She responded with a shy smile and apologised for him. So, of course, I had to tell her of the time a cab driver in London (England) asked our younger son how old he was. Five, he said. And then, pointing to his brother, continued. “He is nine, my mom is ... and dad is...”

The cabbie was stammering in embarrassment, assuring us he wasn’t prying. It was okay, we said, we were aware of our son’s propensity to make friends. Like the kid at the restaurant.

“I like your shirt” he said, pointing to my kurta, waiting expectantly for me to say I liked his t-shirt.

Happy I got the idea, he continued. “I like your sandals.”

So it went, until we came to my watch. An analog watch.

“Is that a watch?” he asked, reaching out to squeeze the sides.

When nothing happened, unlike in the ubiquitous Fitbits or Apple watches, he looked intrigued.

It looked like a watch, I was wearing it where his parents wore their watches, and yet it didn’t behave like one.

“Can I see it?” he asked politely and then poked and prodded at the case gently when I handed it over.

My husband explained how it worked.

“I like your watch,” the little boy declared, handing it back.

The best time waiting in a queue by far.

The couple were called to their table. As they were walking away, the kid turned back with one last question. “Do you live near my house?”

I recall the little girl who walked by with her mom early one morning as I was out gardening. The young woman and I greeted each other with a smile and I told the girl her bright pink sneakers were lovely.

“I like your flowers!” she offered in return.

Most kids will respond to an overture of friendship with their friendship and trust. Until they have an unpleasant encounter or grow up and become wary.

My generation recalls many such experiences, chatting happily with “uncles” and “aunties” on the street or even fellow passengers on long train journeys – people we’d never see again but who went home knowing exactly how old our parents were. Today, we are ever so aware of the dangers that lurk in such encounters. We warn our children not to talk to strangers. Safety is paramount and we drill safety protocols into them. But watching over them as they explore interactions safely can be a beautiful way to nurture a child’s innocence and curiosity.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Dussehrah!

Shagorika Easwar