I was facing the most severest test of my life, severe enough to warrant a double superlative to describe it. I was to spend a full day alone with my three year old son Ashish. A very daunting task indeed. Not that he was a problem child or anything. It is just that we don’t understand each other- literally. The wed-lock with Reshma was cross-cultural affair, she from Uttaranchal and I, born, bred and buttered from proper Madras. But soon after Ashish was born, I received a lucrative assignment to go abroad on a two-year contract. It was too good an offer to resist and so I left my young wife with a babe in her arms to seek lucre. So Ashish was brought up on a diet of pure highland Hindi, a language in which my vocabulary did not exceed half-a-dozen. When I came back about a month ago, I found that he has become a scholar in Hindi and his vocabulary in Tamil one less than mine in Hindi. And I was put in this unenviable task of managing him alone for a full day as Reshma suddenly decided to renew her career and was called for an interview in Bangalore.

Breakfast over and I read the rest of the news the neighbour’s dog had not read. Loss of sleep early in the morning must have made me doze off. I was suddenly woken by a loud “bang, bang, bang” to see Ashish running around with a machine gun shooting imaginary monsters. “koi bath nahin papa, goli mardiya mene” My half-asleep brain connected the word “koi” in Tamil which means hen and so I mumbled to him “We don’t give baths to hens in Tamilnadu”. "Goli" in Tamil is marble and so I added “you can’t kill monsters with marbles” I promptly went back to slumberland lest I lose my marbles. Does he know the story of David and Goliath?

An hour later, he dragged the carton containing the railway set and we set about assembling the tracks etc. Finally I switched on the engine and announced grandly “rail gadi atha hai”. Promptly he corrected me “athi hai” My biggest problem in learning Hindi is that everything in life has to be either a male or female and I can never remember which is which. Not only things but even verbs change their genders depending upon who speaks it. I am supposed to say “atha hoon” but a woman has to change it to “athi hoon” but the train's gender takes precedence over mine! Does a woman saying cancel her gender and the train's to make it masculine? Like two negatives becoming positive. Very confusing!

Lunch went quietly and the little champion went for his siesta. Peace at home and the dictionary too got some rest. Late afternoon, I woke him up, dressed him and was dressing up myself to go out to stock up on vegetables, as ordered by my better half. Ashish announced “pani araha hai” Ha! There's one word I know but I had not ordered any mineral water. Probably Reshma had done so but forgot to tell me. With my wallet in hand I opened the door but there was nobody at the gate but there was a slight drizzle. It dawned on me that even rain is made of water!!

We finished shopping and as we were driving out of Panagal Park market area, when he asked “doop jaaneke baad beach jaa sakthe?” Damn. I forgot to bring the dictionary. Now, which baad is he talking about and what is it with dhoop sticks? The car has its air-freshener anyway. I made a mental note to check up on this later. But I undertood the word "beach" and off we went. At the beach, we were playing in the sand when he suddenly said “sing dana” My singing abilities are restricted to the confines of a tiny bathroom and certainly not meant for public display. Thankfully, the groundnuts vendor came closer and his little finger pointed to the basket and we avoided further embarrassment.

Two ice creams and an hour later, it was time to go to the airport to pick up Reshma. As soon as she came out of the terminal, Ashish launched into a torrent of “shudh” Hindi. Reshma kept looking at me every now and then but never stopped laughing till we reached home. It was a very long day and I heaved a sigh of relief as I put away the dictionary before retiring to bed.