Puddi ke nakhre

Yesterday we took yet another irrevocable step on the way to Puddi’s becoming a little girl and not my puddilicious tomboyish looney-child any more. We got her ears pierced. It was a pretty momentous occasion, not least because it had been in the works for close to two and a half years.

Since we city-slickers live in Delhi or its neighbor the Millennium city, we didn’t manage to do what people in small towns do to their daughters soon after birth, i.e. ear-piercing. Typically in a small town, and the way I and my sister and assorted female cousins got it done was within the first 3 months of birth. The family jeweler came home with a fine gold wire on which he had strung tiny seed pearls, poked a small length of said wire through the ear lobes and twisted it together behind the lobe to create tiny little earrings that the baby wouldn’t have the hand-eye coordination to disturb for many months by which time she wouldn’t even remember that she wasn’t born with those little gold appendages. Yes, the baby probably cried a little bit but infants are remarkably immune to pain, it’s the being tightly held bit they object to, so they would recover pretty fast. The mother would apply a poultice of turmeric powder every day for a couple of weeks until the ear healed and was free of infection, and make kheer or some other sweet to celebrate the first rite of passage.

Well, we didn’t have that option at the hospital where Puddi was born and nor did we have a ‘family jeweler’ in this city, so we figured I’d try and get it done if I traveled to Bangalore with Puddi sometime before she turned one. That opportunity didn’t come up as I was working full time by then, so around her first birthday we decided to try and get it done here. We went to South extension, as the market with the highest density of jewelers per square meter, but imagine our surprise when jeweler after jeweler said they don’t provide that service. Finally we met one youngish jeweler who had a small daughter of his own, and he suggested we try a paediatrician, since jewelers themselves now get ear piercing done for their daughters by qualified doctors.

We promptly called our paediatrician, who said she did do ear piercing but she didn’t have a supply of ear studs on hand right now. So we waited and waited. Then we waited some more. When our patience ran out, we checked with friends, including Madmomma, who passed on the phone numbers of their paediatricians. But somehow or other the ‘’muhurat’ of Puddi’s ears had not arrived and we went from year to year not getting it done. It was never important enough – there were throat infections and birthday parties, swimming at the club and convivial evenings with friends to occupy our weekends.

Then, finally, A and I thought we had to make a final push to get it done. Puddi has been lusting after every piece of jewelry I own for ages, and especially coveting the earrings. And each time I had put her off with, “As soon as we make holes in your ears, you can wear XYZ…” I didn’t want another festive season to go by with her ears bare or covered by glittery stick-on bindis. We googled, and found a paediatrician in practically our backyard who did the deed. A took a full download of how the process worked, and we spent Friday evening and early Saturday morning briefing puds in great detail about it as we didn’t want her in shock and awe, not to mention pain. I was chicken as usual, and got mom to accompany us – she would sit in the room along with a and Puddi while the deed was being done, and I would sit outside chewing my fingers to the bone in quiet panic, stash of candy handy to dash to Puddi’s rescue at the first teardrop. That was the plan anyway.

The doctor applied an anaesthetic solution to her ears and we waited for the anaesthetic to take effect for about twenty minutes. Puddi strode into the doctor’s room with her usual confidence, A and mom following, while I unwrapped an alpenliebe and held it ready. The door closed. No sounds emerged for a while and I sat, insides twisting at the thought of any possible pain to Puddi. Suddenly, there was a high-pitched scream followed by a whimper, “dard ho raha hai…it hurts”. I sprang to my feet, before realizing it came from the examination room next door where a young boy was being examined by the other paediatrician. Five minutes later, it was all over and Puddi marched out, beaming from ear to ear, each ear sparkling with the tiny flower shaped studs we had chosen.