Spice of Life | Looking at life through the lens of little Zareen

Whenever anyone asks my name, I’m instantly reminded of my niece, three-year-old Zareen Kaur Sandhu. Thanks to the way she pronounces it so eloquently besides peppering it with a unique warmth of a different kind. Her tone is so mesmerising that she is often requested to repeat the name and she always obliges. There are many who fail to pronounce it right and most also ask for a smaller version. In my mind, I think, if Zareen can, why can’t you?

Since I’ve been travelling across Europe for the past few weeks, my brother and his wife keep sending me Zareen’s voice notes from our home in Amritsar, which brings a smile to my face. A minute later, I find myself enveloped in many emotions, which triggers me to play them again and again.

She’s a complete entertainer, who deeply observes the world around and all its characters, be it her grandfather or even some neighbours. Grandfather glued to newspapers or his phone is one her favourite acts. Even tying the turban. Copying our helper Vijay, especially the way he talks, is another one. Some weeks ago, she noticed a neighbour’s daughter, also her age, making faces and ever since she loves to portray her, announcing first who she will act like.

Dancing is another love, which she displayed even before she turned one. The moment she catches music, she can’t hold herself back and shakes a leg even if there are strangers around. The song may be of any language but music is universal. The best is when she invites us to dance along. Even when she plays, she wants everyone to participate. You may flag a ‘no’ but she won’t give up. When guests visit, she is excited and confidently strikes a conversation, asking questions from “Where are your shades?” to “How have you come?’

She recently started school and is a curious and sincere student. Her parents often share her pictures sent by her school from her play class. In every picture, she looks more than engrossed, soaked in a certain activity – which is why when it’s time for home, she doesn’t want to go. At home, she narrates her experiences from the class, sometimes about her teacher, other times about her classmates and wishes to go to school even during the weekends.

I first saw Zareen, just months before her second birthday in Ontario, Canada, where she then lived. Her mother, Mannat, was holding her when the door of the home opened on that chilly November night. Zareen observed me for a while and minutes later, she was sitting on my lap. Soon, she was dancing before me in joyful abandon.

One thing that intrigues me about her is that she is always holding a pen in hand and keeps scribbling on paper. Will she be a writer too or an artist? Of course, she is free to become whatever she wants to but I wish her maternal and paternal grandmothers were also alive to shower their love upon her. Their souls must be happy seeing the little one spreading joy all around. No doubt, children are the best gifts from God.

The writer is a freelance contributor and can be reached at rameshinder.sandhu@gmail.com.