Episode 1
Once upon a time
there was a girl who hated pink. Her parents were puzzled why some
days the baby sobbed uncontrollably and some days could not stop showing her
dimples. The poor mother would feel guilty thinking it was the few chips she could
not resist the day before that was causing the colic in her baby now. When baby was a little older, she began tugging at her pink frocks struggling to get out
and threw away pink cups and showed a clear preference to some toys while
mercilessly rejecting others. And finally the penny dropped. Loud and clear.
Her parents wisely decided to remove all things pink from her sight and were
rewarded with some return to normalcy. No more inexplicable mood swings and
persistent colic. She almost looked like a normal baby now. Almost, because she
still had the grave critical expression she had when she looked long and hard
at her parents as if to say - I know all about you and what you did last night.
When you thought I was asleep. How could you?
Apart from her marked colour preference at an age when
babies were supposed to not be able to distinguish colour, Sia was beginning to
show marked preferences for other things in her growing environment. She
preferred her father, he grandparents, even the cleaning maid over her mother.
Even when her mother was careful to avoid wearing any pink. Sia submitted to
being fed, bathed, dressed, by her mother, with decreasing fuss and growing
resignation, but at playtime would studiously avoid her, crawling, then walking
away as soon as she was able to. Her mother was perplexed, but did not mind the
respite from baby chores, when she could focus on the rest of the mountain load
of work, from cooking and cleaning, to helping her husband with management of
their plantation. She liked to see to
the workers’ issues, including making sure the kids were in school, while her
husband looking after the marketing and the various selling and purchasing
activities.
Growing up in a plantation had its advantages, Sia was
realizing. There were always lots of people around, and many nooks and corners
for her to escape to, since mom and dad were generally always too busy to provide
regular company. They were happy she liked her own company and did not mind her
solitary explorations. She still grimaced at pretty pink butterflies, but she
also found plenty of brown and green to warm her little heart. As long as she
finished what was on her plate, her mother did not fuss over her too much. At
six, she was now a fairly independent kid. Did her homework conscientiously,
and got to school in time, walking with her neighbourhood friends. Most afternoons she enjoyed long walks
chatting with her favourite trees, and evenings would find her with her father
in the library, reading their own books, only conversation between them was if
Sia found a word difficult ti understand or read, and dad would willingly help
her out. Slowly she began directing to
her father the many questions in her mind always sure of a well-thought out
response, not like the flippant repartee of her mom to the banter of a 6-year
old child.
“Why does a flute have only seven holes, why not more?”
“Why should I not write on the wall? There WAS no paper
around, when I wanted to write.”
“Where do the Gods stay? Don’t the airplanes bother them?”
It was tough to answer without revealing his own preferences,
and he did not want to influence his daughters on matters, she should have her
own opinion on. He did answer each question with the sincerity and
deliberation, he sincerely believed they deserved.
At night she slept in her own bed. She had always slept better
when away from her mother, so she was given her own room as a toddler and she
liked it that way. She also loved the company of the dogs. No stuffed toys for her.
Her father said animals should be respected and seen in their natural element.
A cute teddy does not convey what a real grizzly in the forest is like. Why
mislead little children into thinking animals are only cute and harmless, when
in reality they are dangerous and smelly and eat other animals? Instead her
father had two dogs as pets, and their vacations were mostly trips to national
parks, roughing it out in makeshift accommodation, much to her mother’s chagrin. So Sia had a realistic picture of animals and
her favourite toy was not a teddy, but a small keyboard her father had bought for her. He had taught
her some simple tunes and Sia was able to play them with precocious ease.
