Dolls, Daughters and Mothers

A time when dolls spoke; laughed and cried.

And oh how their tears scalded my heart.

their wardrobe overflowed with nightwear and frocks I and mom knitted for them 

pullovers and jerseys and neat little socks.

I completely forgot 

that one of them, the smallest one

herself came in one of the socks socks that Santa carried.

The best among them was an heirloom;

my mother's doll which she treasured to be handed down to me.

So sure she was and confident that it into deserving hands.

Then I was no longer a careless, plaintive child.

I had begun to understand a little about how the grown-ups 

also threw tantrums often, over things that were seemingly small.

but large enough to cast shadows of fear on my tremulous heart.

then my dolls would gather around me. No one but  me would know how

the storms abated and and I grew strong.

But then came the days I had to go to school.

I hated counting, additions and subtractions.

I wouldn't finish breakfast and lunch;

dilly dally a lot to evade school

Then my little brother, a toddler still, would get my doll ready to go .
He and the doll, and the maid, who would drag me to school. 

By that time half of the calculations of math were taught and over in the class.

And that's how I was a laggard in math.

My dolls were put aside, and my mother and teacher took charge.

Gradually the dolls accepted the change. Occasionally we talked.

They said, "Go ahead; be good at math; we'll follow you all the way.

And they are with me to this day, tucked in shawls and sleeping in the cupboard.

Sushama Karnik.

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Françoise Dhulesia

When a child, my grand-mother gifted me with a porcelain doll that had belonged to my mum. The doll was big in size and so true-to-life that I thought it was alive! I used to call her "la grande Françoise"! My grand-ma had knitted dresses for her and me, and we were sometimes dressed the same way! 

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Sushama Karnik

Françoise Dhulesia I remember the trip my mom and I made in my childhood to her favourite toy shop in south Bombay by local train and returned home by a double-decker bus with a doll as big as a real infant baby. In those days it was considered quite an expensive doll. I still have it with me.

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Françoise Dhulesia

Sushama Karnik What a beautiful and precious memory! I like to imagind the scene on board the double-decker bus with the infant-like doll sitting between you and your mum! 

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Sushama Karnik

Françoise Dhulne. Oh no! It was a long journey by road and I started feeling drowsy and sick, but I kept awake and watched the view from the upper deck. After coming home I smelt the doll and my sickness was gone. The doll retained that smell of newness for many years. I now remember the last hours of my mom as I sat by her side throughout feeding water in her mouth and caressing her forehead until she told me by gesture, "Enough". Picked up her hanky from her side; wiped her mouth; folded it neatly, and went to sleep; her last sleep.

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Françoise Dhulesia

Sushama Karnik Oh yes, dolls had that very special smell about them!

(Read more on messenger.)

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