Is there a coming-of-age moment for a three-year-old? I
think there is. Having watched Chota Bheem with my daughter of three years, the
film – Doraemon and Jaadui Tapu – was on my to-do list since the day it was released
and despite a 48-hour delay, the excitement continued to peak for me till I
managed to keep my date with the motion picture.
It was not exactly a déjà vu fanfare drawing me to the excitement of a baccha party. The urgency of introducing my 3-yr-old daughter to one of her favourite TV characters on the big screen was a more pressing reason for three adults to toddle after her into the picture hall.
The movie didn’t excite me any more than my daughter managing to successfully recite nursery rhymes with ease, the beginning, middle and the ending only too predictable for an adult mind groomed into the intrigues of an evolved plot. Neither did it manage to hold the attention of my daughter post-interval when she was more drawn towards other kids seating themselves in a gravity-defying act atop folded chairs, legs dangling, hands rummaging for popcorns in the paper bags and eyes riveted on the screen.
It was but, a chance comment, rather a more purposefully drawn comparison in hindsight between characters of Doraemon and our family members, by my daughter that actually had me bending over backwards in disbelief and later, pushed my lazy nerves in weaving random lines scribbled in impatience into a comprehensible deduction.
Here are the three comparisons my daughter made: My wife and her over-indulging mother is her
interpretation of the wish-granting Tom Cat
from the future – Doraemon. She saw herself as the Nobita the lead character
with Doraemon, which she presumably concocted out of my chiding her as "cry-baby like Nobita". And, then she silenced yours truly by a comparison with
Shizuka.
Her mother is the Doraemon because she gives her “many things” even at the risk of spoiling her like the TV character, which pulls out weird gadgets to get Nobita an upper-hand in all his endeavours, even though he ends up ruing the decision. I have now nicknamed my wife as Doraemom, the giver of many things and sweet nothings. Though, I jestingly tell her that our daughter’s naive comparison may be a warning sign for her to hit the gym.
My daughter quickly aligned herself with Nobita. ‘I take things from Baba and Mumma and Dida, Dadu and Pishi…’ So, she is the taker. ‘Hain to, aar aami aalladi kanna kori... hain na baba (Yes, and don’t I fake crying to get attention). Nobita does that too. My interpretation of her stepping in the boots of Shizuka was flatly turned down. “That’s you!” She said. Shizuka? Me? Wow! Really? Now, why hadn’t I fantasized getting into the body of a Japanese girl with a coy smile who dreams about a grand bath with flower petals every time she is asked to make a wish?
But, then the kiddo had her reason. Baba frowns over any change (not to my liking in house or schedule) and Baba gets angry (Like Shizuka)! Traits of a Japanese girl? No comments.
The simple truth that held the profound observation of a three-year-old set me thinking if her days of romancing cartoon characters are over. Probably not. But the chances of taking my daughter to be childish for her random remarks, and dismissing them with an impulsive laugh are certainly over. Wonder, only a year back, she was obsessed with Nemo! Now, it seems she has come of age. No kidding.
It was not exactly a déjà vu fanfare drawing me to the excitement of a baccha party. The urgency of introducing my 3-yr-old daughter to one of her favourite TV characters on the big screen was a more pressing reason for three adults to toddle after her into the picture hall.
The movie didn’t excite me any more than my daughter managing to successfully recite nursery rhymes with ease, the beginning, middle and the ending only too predictable for an adult mind groomed into the intrigues of an evolved plot. Neither did it manage to hold the attention of my daughter post-interval when she was more drawn towards other kids seating themselves in a gravity-defying act atop folded chairs, legs dangling, hands rummaging for popcorns in the paper bags and eyes riveted on the screen.
It was but, a chance comment, rather a more purposefully drawn comparison in hindsight between characters of Doraemon and our family members, by my daughter that actually had me bending over backwards in disbelief and later, pushed my lazy nerves in weaving random lines scribbled in impatience into a comprehensible deduction.
Here are the three comparisons my daughter made: My wife and her over-indulging mother is her
interpretation of the wish-granting Tom Cat
from the future – Doraemon. She saw herself as the Nobita the lead character
with Doraemon, which she presumably concocted out of my chiding her as "cry-baby like Nobita". And, then she silenced yours truly by a comparison with
Shizuka. Her mother is the Doraemon because she gives her “many things” even at the risk of spoiling her like the TV character, which pulls out weird gadgets to get Nobita an upper-hand in all his endeavours, even though he ends up ruing the decision. I have now nicknamed my wife as Doraemom, the giver of many things and sweet nothings. Though, I jestingly tell her that our daughter’s naive comparison may be a warning sign for her to hit the gym.
My daughter quickly aligned herself with Nobita. ‘I take things from Baba and Mumma and Dida, Dadu and Pishi…’ So, she is the taker. ‘Hain to, aar aami aalladi kanna kori... hain na baba (Yes, and don’t I fake crying to get attention). Nobita does that too. My interpretation of her stepping in the boots of Shizuka was flatly turned down. “That’s you!” She said. Shizuka? Me? Wow! Really? Now, why hadn’t I fantasized getting into the body of a Japanese girl with a coy smile who dreams about a grand bath with flower petals every time she is asked to make a wish?
But, then the kiddo had her reason. Baba frowns over any change (not to my liking in house or schedule) and Baba gets angry (Like Shizuka)! Traits of a Japanese girl? No comments.
The simple truth that held the profound observation of a three-year-old set me thinking if her days of romancing cartoon characters are over. Probably not. But the chances of taking my daughter to be childish for her random remarks, and dismissing them with an impulsive laugh are certainly over. Wonder, only a year back, she was obsessed with Nemo! Now, it seems she has come of age. No kidding.
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