Aneesh Sathe

Little feet waddle over the bookshelf. Little hands grab books made for little hands. It’s his favourite, a cardboard box of four books: numbers, animal sounds, alphabet, and objects. Illustrated by Eric Carle, each page has one a lovely illustration accompanied by one or two words. We pick a book, as we do several times a day and what feels like several hundred times on the weekends. Usually the routine goes we open a book, I point at the picture and say the word often with some sound effects. Usually Aarin makes encouraging noises, stays till page four then goes and does the next thing but not today. Today is different.

Feet waddle, hands grab, a book is selected. It’s animal sounds. I flip to the first page, it’s a picture of a sheep with the word ‘sheep’ under it. This is no surprise of course, being that’s it’s a book for infants the mystery is kept to a minimum. Like so many times before I point to the sheep and say “this is a sheep, and sheep goes Baa!”. Then I repeat this time with a questioning tone “Sheep goes….”. Pause for effect and I normally answer myself “Baa!” Not today. Today Aarin has a big smile and a giant loud exuberant “BAAA!” thunders forth from his little mouth. He’s done it! He’s learnt something and I’m proud, over the moon even!

Convinced my child is a genius I point to the next page. Spotting a cow, are also known for a lunar missions, I ask “Cow goes…?” And of course he confidently opens his mouth, as I knew he would and proclaims: “BAAA!”

Yup, cow goes baa!

That was several weeks ago, for a while everything went Baa! Now Aarin knows several words, cats go miaou, cows go moo, and bellybuttons are found under people’s shirts. While I’m happy with his progress, I’m also a little sad because the cow going baa moment all too short.

All the animals in Aarin’s world make the proper sounds now. In my heart though, there will always be a little pasture saved just for the cow that goes baa!

We've been around since dawn 
And our day is yet long 
We were lucky 
To have Orcas 
In the afternoon

Before our huts
Of fire, steel, and stone
This Earth strode alone
Palaces
Of light, blood, and bone

Ever changing, yet ever same
Characters with shared masks
But a different name

At the tips of pyramids,
The giants dance.
Even as we steal the bricks,
For a second
Of prosperity's glance

Our murderers are microscopic,
They train their harpoon.
We were lucky
To have Orcas
In the afternoon

I carry,
The world’s sounds with me.
A cat’s satisfied purr,
On a hot day the fan’s whirr

She is the hot-headed matchstick

And I the rough red side

Of a matchbox.

Forever we tease each other

About how with the

Littlest effort a flame

We could make.

But content with this knowledge,

We sit as friends side by side

Laughing

And Jeering at the world

For it is ours to light up

And ours to burn.