A Game Of Charades

Dear Piya,

It feels like you started playing charades with me the minute you were born.

Oh, yes!

I was at the mercy of guesswork with regards to what your actions and expressions stood for, for a long time, after your birth. And let me tell you this - it was no fun at all.

But I am writing this letter about the first, technical game of dumb charades that you played with me, today.

Like a quintessential young child, you take a lot of cues from what happens in your surroundings. 

And today, when your father and I were playing dumb charades around food (yes, he was enacting a dish, believe it or not!) with him acting out something for me to guess, you seemed to be taking mental notes on the quiet.

I say so because after 5 minutes of a detailed observation, you walked up to & asked your father to step aside, with the flair of a pro!

And in the very next minute I got a visual peek into the mental notes you had been taking -

You started doing some actions that your father had been enacting, with no knowledge, whatsoever, about what had been going on.

You were playing dumb, literally, without even meaning to!

So, there I was, trying to make sense of what you were trying to tell me, through some random actions, for something you had in your mind, only to realise that my efforts were in vain.

And so after a minute, I decided that two could play the game and so I started saying out random words as guesses as well.

This is where you beamed up, with my random responses (I am yet to understand the head and tail of what happened!). If I were to guess, I would say that you were enjoying a response in the first place.

But since you kept moving your ams in the air like a silly octopus, I ran out of guesses soon. 

Can you please guess, what you did, now?

Let me paint a picture -

Your father was watching this dramatic charades as you & I struggled to get on the same page.

I was running out of guesses and you were holding your fort with the same, single action since long.

So, as I appeared to be giving up, you slowly moved your palm to your lips and tried to mouth something.

I let out a ticklish 'Huh?!' upon seeing this smart act.

You responded with a little volume from out of your mouth, now.

But it was still inaudible; supremely funny, but low on volume nevertheless.

"Oregano!" you finally muttered with some decibel level in your voice, finally.

"OREGANO?!" I whooped.

The joy on your face knew no bounds! You were so, so happy!

You showed you won the game. And how?!

While your father hugged you and danced, I sat there in a surprised wonder around why you had chosen 'oregano' of all things in the world to enact.

You quickly moved onto the next act, and by next act I mean, the same old action that I had been unable to crack with the marvel of 'oregano', previously.

But it had clearly worked in your mind, and so you stuck to the classics.

We had 'mirchi', 'dahi' and 'chocolate' come, in the same manner, thereafter, with you whispering the word, after 5 seconds of having tried the classic action of pointing your arms in the direction of the refrigerator, which I now caught on to.

I wish I could tell you that there is something common amongst these.

There isn't.

I wish I could say that you love all these food items. 

You don't love them all.

I wish I could tell you that it all made sense, somehow.

It did not.

It still doesn't.

But it made you rejoice.

And so, nothing else matters.

May we keep playing such random, illogical games of fun all life long!

Love,

Maa.