Giving roots to my dreams

I sat idling around on a Sunday and browsing through channels when I stopped on the umpteenth telecast of Baghban on one of the channels. And because I was interested in watching the next movie, I tried to be patient and tolerate the last scene of Baghban....I mean...it couldn't really hurt could it? And then Amitabh Bachan started speaking...How life is like a tree and parents are the roots, that hold you steady and nurture you for life. I would like to improvise a little.
Parents are not only the root....they are the entire tree. Holding you steady as you move forward in life, the strong trunk that ensures you to relax and rest your head on them, and the gentle shade of the leaves that save you from the harsh sun and the merciless rain. And after my mother died...I felt like the fruit that had been snatched from its tree and thrown in the wilderness. I felt the harsh sun for the first time, felt how horrible rains can be...without their love and protection, the world was an ugly place to be. With time I was thrown from boulder to boulder, was pushed on by the torrents of time and I just flowed with it. It was harsh...and it is tough trying to survive on your own. And then...I looked at my son, playing animatedly with his toys and my nephew trying to attract his attention and I realized that the Circle of Life was just beginning anew. It was time for me to rest and grow my own roots. I have to be there for them now...I have to be the strength they would need when they stumble, I have to protect them from sun and rain and all the things hostile, I have to nurture them and be there for them.

It's time I gave roots to my little angel...so that he can grow up feeling the love I have been so lucky to have had. And God willing...I shall do that!

I still remember............

I still remember the days gone by...15th August.......remember waking up to find my father watching the news...to be precise The PM's speech, the relaxed breakfast, the kite flying frenzy, the sulking and fighting with bhaiya...insane loud music and high energies...the laughter of childhood...pure and content. I still remember.

It is aptly said that the sweetest songs are those that remind you of saddest thoughts...something my father often quoted. I still remember him quoting Wordsworth, Keats and so many more and I never realized where did I get my love for literature! It's all gone now...only memories reside...memories of a beautiful childhood, a time when I slept knowing that I would be woken up with a warm smile. Memories of strong steady and warm hands that would engulf the shivering tiny hands and warm up the coldest decembers...

8 years ago on this day at around this time I was sitting with my father as he watched Border for the umpteenth time. 8 years ago I didn't know that he was to be with me for only another week...

It's just not the same without him...

Still waiting

Time they say flies away. And with a kid you are hardly aware of the seconds turning into minutes and days turning into weeks. So they say.....

It is such a long long wait. First you wait to see his face and then greed sets in. No sooner can he look at you and giggle, you want him to laugh. HE turns a little on the bed and you want him to sit up and run to you. He starts making small gurgling noises and you want him to call you ma!

And guess what...it takes time. More so because you are waiting and waiting and waiting. He is six months old, can start seeing a glimmer of naughtiness lurking on the corner of his small mouth. HE makes cute little faces and has started tying to imitate and draw attention by small little antics. And I am greedy....waiting for more. Waiting for the day he would call me ma, take his first step, laugh and hug me, kiss me...

Still waiting....

Confession

They say the birth of a child is rebirth of a woman. She comes through from that treacherous journey and is reinvented. Nothing is ever the same again...Who would know it better than me? And like me all the women who took up the journey and are now proud mothers. On the eve of Mother's Day, I decided to give a small tribute to all the women out there who would understand what I am talking about. To the young mothers like me, fighting hard to adjust...to the seasoned ones, sailing effortlessly through life...I salute you all.
I lost my own splendid mother two and a half years ago and never did I miss her the way I did when I was about to become a mother. i did not have her loving hand on me or her reassuring face or that steady voice telling me that everything would be okay! And yet I could see her face as clearly as daylight and imagine her smiling down at me, telling me that very soon...very soon I would know what it is like and how amazingly the pain is all worth it. But the journey seemed to go on without many joys and I would be honest with you all...the first six months were enough to dampen all my spirits and well...make a wreck out of me. I was sad and depressed most of the times. call it mental fatigue or physical exhaustion; words don't matter. The fact remains that every time I looked at my bundle of joy I only wished my mother was there, right next to me, taking care of him for me while I got on with my life.
I ached to go out and party with my friends, spend candle light dinners with my husband and play with my child. But none of those things was I able to do. What with my husband mostly away from me for work, I was all alone, fending for myself and my baby. And hate me for saying it, I hated it. My thoughts kept getting darker, my waist line broader and my mood sulkier than ever. I was ready to burst at the smallest invitation, hated if people around me were having some fun or simply moving on in life. Idleness and boredom filled my days as a dull routine set in my life. Getting up in the morning, with a heavy head and sleepy eyes, changing my baby's diapers, feeding him and putting him back to sleep. Then the bathing and feeding and playing on and on just kept going and for all those who think playing witha child is fun...it is also tiring. I was tired beyond belief and had nothing to write or wish for.
My son is six months old and I can't thank god enough for him. And yet I was upset. Because this wasn't me and I was not ready to accept the change. I needed guidance and support which was just not there and then I dreamt about my mother, waltzing through life, handling work and home and three kids, keeping herself up and ready for all the challenges life could throw at her and did she succeed? Oh yes she did. Then why was I such a failure? I always thought that I was the best of the lot, the only child she was so confident about. She trusted me to face every challenge and even if I lost...she would know that I tried. And today I decided to give myself another try. Hence the blog. Enough with the negativity in my life. I really am the only person who can help myself. And I would try.

On this mother's day, its a thought...from one mother to another...if anybody can do it...it's you. Happy Mother's Day.

Kanika Khurana is dead. She died today...the girl who was...is dead. Instead of her there is a female who loathes the way she looks, hates the way she dresses and talks...can not even write well. There is absolutely nothing left in her any more. She is dead. Her eyes have no dreams any more, her heart has no desire...

I killed her.

A mother!

Clocking one Year and rearing for more...

Well that's right. I would be completing one year of marriage as the month ends and what do I have to say about this year long journey...boy was it tough!
To be honest there were times when I cursed the day I decided to marry. Not that I don' love my husband any more or he doesn't do that either...its just we were so much the better when we were only in love with each other. The expectations were low, the love was uncomplicated and the only two people who truly mattered were him and me. So of course it was shear bliss. Come marriage and things began to complicate. What with relations and the have to's of the world and society. Also the fact that both of us hail from two totally different sectors of the society with cultural gorges in between, didn't help. The end result was that we were angry from each other, fighting on issues that could have been avoided and simply sleeping with headaches...if you know what I mean!
Add to that the joy of being parents was also witnessed by us which was adulterated by the very worry of managing it. Our son...the essence of both of our lives was in front of us and two people who love each other so much were fighting the urge to run away. (At least I was!) And then I saw the silver lining. The fact that no matter how bad the fight was, both of us always wanted to end it asap. The fact that my heart still flutters in my chest everytime I see him. The fact that he still has the twinkle in his eye whenever I am loking pretty, the fact that we were happy when the other was happy...all these came rushing back. Happy memories the year gone by, the days and nights spent cuddled up, the sweet smile, the happy face and the lovable care...that is what also made my year. So why was it only bad? It wasn't.
And then we got our Artham...my little bundle of joy...that small little smile, the twinkling black eyes, the naughty crooked eyebrows...our son.

So what do I have to say about the first year of marriage...I lived every moment of it.