These days, the most common word ringing in our small household is “Why?” Why is it summer? Why is it cold? Why is it dinner time? Why do we need sleep? Why did Akka pinch me? Why do we have to wear uniform to school? Why don’t you wear uniform to office? Why am I growing big? Why am I not growing big faster? Why does the Sun have to go to California? Why did you cook Lauki for dinner? Why did Papa got to Egypt? Why didn’t we go to Paris? Why, Why, Why…
Honestly, even though I love questions from four year old Yog, it is time taking and nerve racking to answer all his questions with patience. And then, there are some questions that I don’t even have answers to:
- Why Bamma (Grandmother) died?
- Why did my hand come in the door? (resulting in 2 smashed fingers, 6 stitches and 6 weeks of bandage)
This is how I attempt to answer, but my answers have a tendency to run in the grey leaving my words choked up in my throat.
Why Bamma died? Because she was not keeping well
Why was she not keeping well? Because she got an infection
Why did she get an infection? Because she had an operation
Why did she get an operation? Because she was not keeping well
Why was she not keeping well? Because sometimes we fall sick
Why do we fall sick? (I wish I could say that we fall sick because we don’t take care of our body. But God knows how much care Bamma took of not only herself but all of us. So why did she fall sick? This is where I run out of answers.)
So I say, “Sometimes things happen that Mama cannot explain”
Why Mama, why can’t you explain?
Why did my hand come in the door? Because you kept your hand in the door and someone closed it
Why did someone close it? Because they did not know that your hand was there
Why did they not know? I was crying and calling to open the door. Why they did not hear me? Because the door was very thick. They couldn’t hear you
Why was the door so thick? Some doors are thick and some doors are thin. I am not sure I can explain any better
Why Mama, why can’t you explain any better?
Yesterday, after a long day of work, I did not have the mental energy to fend Yogs’ stream of questions. So I delegated the task to Siri for the first time. Yog was super happy to talk to Siri. I was relieved to sit in silence for some time and listen to their immensely funny conversation. To start with, they discussed time, weather, and Egypt. Soon Yog came to the million dollar question, “Why did my hand come in the door?” Siri politely said, “I don’t think I have the abilities to answer this question.” Yog promptly replied, “Why don’t you have the atities to answer this question?” Siri said, “I am sorry Yog!”. With that Siri shut itself down and hid in the deep dark blackness of my phone.
For a split second, I was happy to know that I was not the only one not able to answer Yogs questions. But the happiness was soon taken over by melancholy. Honestly, I, myself am struggling to accept the answer to these questions and therefore, don’t have the courage to explain the answers to Yog, at least not yet. The silver lining is that while I am almost to the point of tears each time I think of these questions, Yog is not emotionally attached to these questions. For him, these are just questions that need to be answered. As soon as, someone can answer them for him, he will be freed from these questions and will happily move on to his next set of questions.