Chapter 3 Kids are Just Kids
"Auntie, Auntie, Auntie ;
Auntie, Auntie, Auntie ;
Auntie, Auntie, Auntie;…….."
I am speechless with a tide of emotions; no words are coming to my lips. I can only manage a broad smile.
Filled with new energy, I start the music system and go outside, closing the door. I check if the sound pitch is within tolerable neighbors' limits. The muffled beats of music thump through even the closed doors and windows, "I think it's all right and not loud enough to provoke neighbors to complain."
Little angels are hopping around in the gentle radiance of candles. Their shadows are dancing along with the angels, reaching all up the sides of the hall. The next room is all silent.
I am experiencing there is nothing that can make me happier than children at home for a party.
Children a dozen of them were mostly Indians, and few of them Arabic. We play an excellent Bollywood and Arabic dance song collection, which Reena borrowed from her mother for this party.
Zeenat and Zeba, both of them are so beautiful. They are swinging with expressive dance movements to slow and soulful Arabic music. Most kids seem to be familiar and comfortable with these songs, and they, too, are trying to imitate dancing.
Music type and songs change from Arabic to Punjabi. This music with melodic drum beats and has much more vigor.
Harpreet and Jasleen jump out to the tunes with magnificent dance steps and drum beats with a flutter of excitement. Other children swarm around Jasleen and Harpreet.
Sudden energy has rushed in children, and it has made all more alive. All are dancing naturally, enjoying their jumps, not bothering how well they dance.
Harpreet and Jaspreet are dancing too fiercely with rhythmic beats turning around in circles with so much passion and joy. Jasleen is beautifully dancing and pretending to beat a drum slung drum around his neck, creating an authentic, traditional Punjabi atmosphere.
Another soft music is making children move to other activities.
Little Rani, three years old, is caught trying to reach with her one leg and hand on a dining chair and making all efforts to get her other hand in a Chocolate box up on the table. I purposely ignore this and start looking on the other side. Suddenly, a thin metal sound and the chocolate box has fallen, and golden yellow shiny covered chocolate bars have spilled all over the floor. All children gather around their favorite thing and seem to be drooling uncontrollably to pick as many as they can. Some even have three, but all have at least one.
After playing with children for a while, I sit comfortably on the sofa, resting my chin in the palm of my hand, enjoying the children's thrill of collecting raining chocolates.
After a while, little Imran comes running and crying, both at high speed.
Imran is shaking his empty hands. " Auntie, I deed not … I deed not … get any thocklate."
"Oh, really, why did they not give you even one."
"Wait, I'll give you something. "
"You are a good boy; wait for a while, my sweet baby, please. "
I check the fridge for Imran. All roasted almonds are over from last week's shopping, and just one pack of sunflower seeds is left. They are also lovely, but I'm sure children will not like it. Oreos pack is sitting in my fridge for the last three weeks. I take it out for Imran.
I expected him to accept it unwillingly, but he was more excited".
Two others also gathered around to see what special Imran has got. They walk back with Imran thinking Imran got something better.
Children pretend to be their favorite animals with silly walks. Extra energetic Amit starts kicking like a donkey. Avani uses a cushion to knock over his kicks. Other children also follow her idea of defense.
Amit starts walking an elephant; he is semi circling his head like a trunk. Nanu climbs and sits on his back.
Children have a good frolic and yelp over and over again a nursery rhyme with delight "Haathi ghora palki Jai Kanihaya laalkey……"
"Jai Shivaji Maharaj key"….. Long Live Shivaji Maharaj
Nanu is riding an elephant, glowing with a straight neck and a thoughtful air of a Maharaja, a mighty warrior and impossible hero Shivaji Maharaj
Pinky and Avani stretch their arms tight, squatting and waddling on heels pretend to be penguins.
I see Amit, Nanu, Pinky, Moin, and Avani started a new game. With three chairs in a row, they jump off of chairs as high as possible and climb back again with shoes. The thought of saving the chair cushion covers from being dirtied will not work as children fun of jumping off the chairs will surely no way follow my instructions. I am quiet with this anticipation.
Smallest of four, Avani falls, landing on her arm with a loud thud.
She is shocked and quiet. Our eyes meet, and I hear a sudden shrill cry from her. Sensing pity and compassion in my eyes, she picks herself up and moves straight to me, crying without any summons.
With her head upon my shoulder, she is weeping with a high shrill voice in pain. The hot tears are rolling down my neck. The sound of her irregular breathing is piercing through my heart. With desperate screams, Avani moaning and weeping with a high shrill voice pleading to be taken home to her mother. She doesn't stop and continues blast of endless cries. She is crying along with her every cell piercing everyone's ears with an unbelievably high pitch.
#kidsparty #Kidsfun #kidspartyideas
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