How to raise a boy: I used to think I could curate my son’s world. I was wrong

My two-year-old can spot Ambedkar anywhere. On the walls, in the streets, in photographs, on the television. He’ll also point out if he sees someone wearing “Ambedkar kannadi”.

The same with Gandhi.

He can sing Ishwar Allah Tero Naam, because my father taught him the hymn, because his thoughtful aunt gifted a Gandhi matryoshka doll that prompted this session.

He’s a Sanjay Subrahmanyan fan, and requests songs any time he meets Sanjay maama.

Loves thillanas.

Has heard an entire jazz concert mesmerised. Loves brass instruments and percussion. Turns any surface into a drum.

And he loves swings.

What I have discovered, however, is that it indeed does take a village to raise a child. Especially one full of verve from the moment he wakes up, and is (astonishingly) capable of maintaining