The toddler effect

Spending time with toddlers is an exotic pleasure, especially for seniors. They crave immense love and are drawn to warmth. Anyone who exudes affection can easily win them over.

Spending time with toddlers is an exotic pleasure, especially for seniors like myself. I hope you’ll agree that toddlers are ego-free, priority-free, and expectation-free. They crave immense love and are drawn to warmth. Anyone who exudes affection can easily win them over. Amplify their expectations, and they’ll fall for you instantly. It’s pure bliss!

Their bewitching smile is mesmerising. The more you behave childishly, the more attracted they become, believing you’re part of their group. They shower you with inexplicable love in return. Their innocent smile, stuttering, and tumbling keep you in awe. 

Imitating them, behaving exactly as they do, helps you connect with them. I have always craved for spending golden moments with children – be it the children of people who worked in our houses, neighbours, relatives, or passersby.

During my sister’s stay in Harihar three decades ago, I’d frequently visit her, not to see her family, but to play with her Marathi neighbour’s younger daughter, Megha. She was so popular that instead of calling her “so and so’s daughter,” the entire colony referred to her father as “Megha’s father.”

This charming chatterbox was everyone’s favourite. In the evenings, colony elders would join her at the park to play hide-and-seek or carry her on their backs, jumping in ecstasy.

For the past four or five years, my centre of attraction has been my nephew’s four-year-old son, Arya. This English-smitten child has been attending kindergarten for just a couple of months but shows remarkable fluency in English. His teacher often wonders if he’s the student or the teacher!

When Arya’s cousin Yuvika – same age as him – visits, the house turns into a war zone. Yuvika excitedly shares stories and her love for Mulbagal Dosa, while Arya scatters plastic toys and invites everyone to join him. To restore calm, my nephew often hands them each a mobile phone. We’re amazed by the sudden calmness, as both of them get immersed in their favourite YouTube cartoons! The only time the house is peaceful is when both kids are away at school.

Recently, I’ve added another little friend to my list – Anoop, the one-and-a-half-year-old son of our apartment’s security guard. As soon as Anoop sees me, he calls out “Ah, Ah” and rides his toy cycle towards me. Unable to speak yet, he gestures for me to sit on the pillion seat. With his curly hair tied with a rubber band and a kunkum on his forehead, he resembles Lord Krishna.