Most important words any parent can say to their child, and it is not I love you

It came to me in a drunken stupor…the moment I say it people might just stop reading what I am trying to say. But the fact of the matter is…it is often when your ability to think is dimmed that you think clearly. For you only think about one important aspect and brain is too numb to interrupt that thought with unnecessary noise. And that night, as I sat enjoying a drink I realized the most important words my parents always repeated. And no…it wasn’t I love you. I guess, that is a given. It was…I believe in you. A mother myself now…still struggling and fighting the nuances that life keeps throwing at me, I realize that these words have been my biggest strength.

I was never a straight A student. Yes, perhaps above average but never a straight A. I would learn and work and get good grades. My teachers loved me and my friends…I always had many but never had any. There was something else I did spectacularly – I failed. There have been so many instances in my life that I have failed that it is not even funny! And after every failure my parents would look at me, smile and say – I believe in you. I am confident that no matter what life throws at you, you would find a way to overcome it. I believe in your abilities, your strengths and your intent. And even though you have failed…I believe that it is just one of the many battles. I believe in you!

These words have been my strength…and how! Am I a success? I know not. Certainly there are these times when I believe that I have not achieved anything in life. But the power of those words…that trust, that unshakeable faith in my abilities keeps me going. Even when I failed by the standards of the world I could feel my mum staring at me and smiling and saying – you would figure it out. And today, when I see my son struggling with a small thing and see my husband tell him the very same thing I cannot help but smile.

As parents we often forget that it is not just about telling your child that you are loved. It is giving the child that belief system, that confidence in his/her own abilities and nothing spells confidence the way a parent’s smile of comfort that the child would manage. When you tell the child that you believe in the child…it stays. A child looks up to their parents for approval…it is the first instinct. That first level of approval. And when s/he gets an approving nod…its so much easier to get up and walk again. But a frown, a sneer or a worry is killing. How deeply it affects the child perhaps cannot be explained.

So when you child falls, smile at him/her, tell them it is okay and tell them that you believe in him/her. Parents are always there and it is important to tell your child that he/she can turn to you. But more than that, tell them that you believe that they can do it themselves. Don’t look at the child’s failure and consider it a given, frown and worry about what your child would do next! Instead turn to your child, smile and shrug. Say it is okay. That You believe in him/her. That is all it takes. 

The Closet

Soft, smooth and supple. Thats how you would define her. Strangely, her skin called out to you, making you wonder how it would feel in your hands. The taut jawline stretched over to an etched face, rounded bosom and the oh so delicate flat stomach. The curved belly and the stretched smooth skin. She looked perfect, sitting there on the chair with one leg folded...all confident of her own sexuality. Would she ever have to even doubt if she was desirable...guess not. Was it that confidence that made her so?
Whatever it was, she looked breathtakingly beautiful in that white bikini top and the skimpy bottoms. You could but only feel jealous of the man who sat next to her, caressing her and smiling at her. Even if you wanted to, you could not forget the vision of her, stretched on that beach chair, still wet and even though she was with another man, you so wanted to reach out and just touch those glistening beads of water that clung to her still. How would it be like to touch her?  To feel her body move beneath your hands....the touch of her skin against your fingers...the breasts...heaving as you undid the white strings....

"What's wrong?" The words invaded her thoughts and she looked up at him. His breathing was still ragged but the satisfaction was not there in his face. He looked all perplexed. Shaking her head she touched his face gently.
"Nothing darling."
"Well...you were thinking something..."
She smiled and felt the image of the woman invade her thoughts again. An object of desire and perfection. Her body, glistening under the sun, at the club today. And then she imagined how her lips would  part in the sweet surrender to ecstasy. Strangely she was aroused...unbearably so. She looked back at her husband and pushed him aside, swiftly moving on top of him.
He was still looking at her when she smiled at him....
"My turn..."

The morning sun...

"You look tired..." he said and she looked at him. It had been a wild crazy night. After years he had been dancing the whole night with a woman...a stranger and though nothing had happened...he felt exhausted. It was a lovely feeling and it was all over his face...happiness and contentment.
"Just sleepy," she murmured and before he knew her head was on his lap. They were still at their friends' place and the party was over. Binod had long gone to his room with Nidhi and Ashish was lounged on the couch across the room. Everyone else had left and after hours of dancing and drinking they had finally called it.
He still could not believe that the woman he had met just hours ago was resting her head on his lap. He looked down at her dark head, long dark hair, spread on his thighs. She moved and put her feet up, nesting her head in his lap and he was stirred. She looked up at him, her eyes red with effects of alcohol, pleading and urging.
"Honey you are drunk..."
"And you are a gentleman?" She asked, mockingly.
That was invitation enough and his mouth came hard on hers. She moaned and he plunged deeper, feeling her perfume mingled with the smell of vodka arouse him. Without knowing he was urgent as his hands reached for her breasts, firm and supple under the black top. And she responded. He could hardly believe that the night could get any wilder but it did and twenty minutes later he was all but convinced he was in love. Gripped in satisfaction he closed his eyes and slept...a very happy man.

She tiptoed her way back to the bedroom. Bathed now, she smelled of faint lavender. Removing her towel she got in the bed besides him and snuggled up to him. He moved, aware of her scent.
"What time is it?"
"Just about 5." She said and he turned towards her. He was wearing his shorts and smiled as her hand moved up his thighs.
"I take it the ladies night out was nice..."
She looked at him as his eyes fluttered open.
"It was fun....yes,"
"Nice..." he replied and she kissed him gently on his chest...
"But not half of what i am about to have now..."
As she slided down in the covers he had only one thought...he was the luckiest husband in the whole wide world!

Crossroads...

He looked across the coach to find her sitting in the usual place, her book open in her lap. But for some reason she was not reading it today. She looked up, saw him and smiled. They had met on this coach a few months ago, and the polite smiles had eventually led to good mornings and then conversations. She was older than him…not much, perhaps 5 or at max seven years, but she excited him. The last month they had broken the ice and now he considered that they were more than just acquaintances. Everything about her pleased him. The way she dressed, the way she talked and even the way she smelled. Of course she was married, but no one said you could not desire a person. And if the person was so exceptional…it was almost a crime not to desire her.

Walking close to her he realized that she had not saved him the seat, which she had started doing for the past week. She looked at him and shrugged. She was wearing a saree today and he felt aroused.

“You are looking very nice today.” He offered and she smiled back at him. “Anything special today?”

“Nothing. I guess I just felt like it.” She said and looked back at her book. Hanging on for the support he looked at her head, bent on the book. She seemed to sense his eyes on her and marking the page she closed the book and looked at him. Her eyes were shadowed and there was just a little frown on her forehead. Something seemed to flicker in the depths and then she stood up, moving close to him and grabbing the handrail. He smiled and realized that she had given way to a very pregnant woman…who smiled gratefully and parked herself on the seat vacated by her. He felt silly for thinking she had done this on purpose…She turned now and was standing with her back towards him. He could smell her perfume and could not help but look at her bare back, the small curves enhanced by the saree, hiding enough but enticing in more ways than one. He felt his body stir in response as hers’ swayed closer to his. His mind was wondering without wanting to, treading the dangerous path of not really getting anything in return. He wondered how her skin felt, how it would be to press her body against his. Aroused, he sharply inhaled and concentrated on her head. And then it happened - the metro jerked forward and came to a halt at the junction. That was hardly for two seconds but she lurched forward and his hand came instinctively to grab her waist, only to steady her. And she was as smooth as he expected…soft velvety skin, still supple. He didn't mean to but it was done before he could stop himself and he pulled her closer…She turned, his hand still on her waist and looked at him. It went through his body like a shock and he apologetically removed his hand. He knew that she knew and felt a strange trepidation fill him. He licked his lips and without wanting his face was writ with apology. Only one thought crossed his mind then…Should he apologize? Should he try and explain? And then his heart skipped a beat. It was barely a step…just one step but she moved back, her body touching his’ ever so slightly. He frowned and then she looked back and he stared at her face. There was no anger on it, nor irritation…just amusement. He smiled and she smiled back. 

Through the door...

She should have looked away, should have simply backed out and yet she felt she could not. The moment had come and gone and she did not stop it. Before she knew she was hugging him, holding him tight, feeling his cologne fill her senses as his hands felt her back. There was no urgency in him...just a confidence that both scared and excited  her. She felt him push her back and saw him reach for the buttons on his shirt. That was perhaps another good time for her to stop him but she still did not. Instead she found she could not turn away. And she should have.....how could she? She was a married woman...and yet...there she was...in a room with another man...
"I can't," she said and he nodded...
"I understand. All I am asking of you is to hug me...that's all..."
Raagini felt him close the distance and shock went through her whole being. She was still fully dresed and yet she felt naked. He just held her close and she could feel his warm skin sear her even through the blouse....uncomfortable by her own body's reaction she turned around and distanced herself from him.
"I..." but her words were stopped short as his hands came round from behind and his body crushed hers against the wall...she closed her eyes then...knowing that at this moment she did not want to think. His hands were on her waist now, tugging on the shirt, pulling it loose. She felt his fingers find her skin, sending rude shocks through her. Paralysed on the spot she waited as he inched his hand up her waist and cupped her right breast...

The door squeaked and she opened her eyes with a start.
"Sorry...did I wake you up?"
Raagini felt sweat break on her forehead as confusion gripped her. She was still warm...her heart was still wildly thudding in her chest...
"You okay?" He asked again, his face shadowed in the dim light...but his face. She was in her room...her bed...with her husband....it had been a dream...
"Just a dream..." she murmured, her face still flushed and warm.
Raagini nodded and turned around as tears filled her eyes with misery and shame...misery because she loved her husband...there was no one but him...and shame bacause she could not be completely honest if she was crying at the fact that it was only a dream or because it was just a dream.....

Religion has nothing to do with it

I have kept quiet as people talked on and on about the happenings around the world. The Peshawar School Incident...the Charlie Hebdo Office...the on going battles at the border...the terrorism and the un-ending fear. And in the midst the chatter I heard people talking about the radical outlook of religions...what is right...what is wrong...how much is okay...how much isn't!

Seriously....leave the people to their beliefs...religion has nothing to do with it.

I don't want to wake up one day and have to explain to my child what my God expects out of us! I only want to tell him...be a good human being, respect your elders, love the children...and just be TOLERANT.
It is okay if someone believes in being a vegetarian...if someone finds drinking wrong...if some person believes in fasting to show your devotion. The fact is...religion gives us a semblance of belonging...a way we can continue to live...and be guided. My husband once very patiently corrected me...Human Beings in general need a Guru...a Guide...a Mentor. Basicallly...someone to tell you what to do, what is right and how to go about it. Very few are led by their own free will...majority simply find it simpler to be told. Now you might want to be told by your parents...your teachers...your spiritual gurus...or the old scriptures that we have turned into "Religions!" but essentially it is all very simple.. when nothing else works...we look for answers in the universe around us and if religion does that for me...I say brilliant!

Stop asking people to not be afraid...or question the tenet of this/that religion...instead simply educate people. Let's work on creating a society where we are truly guided by love and humanity. Let us teach our children to be Tolerant...because that is the premise of love and humanity. Reach out to the world at large...the empty expanse and just be tolerant.

I believe in God...does it exist? I don't know. But I believe that I am looked after, loved and cared for. What name I give to my god hardly matters...my religion has nothing to do with my thought process...my education on the other hand has everything to do with it. Growing up I was not taught about castes, religions, societies or cultural heritage...I was taught about science, history, art, maths and languages. I reach out to the Bhagwad Gita today not under any spiritual devotion but rather as a curious mind, wondering at the thought process that has relevance even today...I reach out to the Bible not to question the tenets of Christianity but to wonder how people have evolved...how thought processes have evolved. I look at religion not as anything apart from lessons in history of mankind. And as I marvel so I wonder at the brilliance of our fore-fathers that have created this world on this earth for us.

To end this I am drawn to include this one simple sentence that I heard on a televised version of Mahabharat. It's not who said it that matters...its what is said that matters...and I translate thus...

The world is not fighting because there is no right left...they are fighting because there is no compassion left! Each party believe they are in the right and perhaps they are...but what the world needs is not the Right and the Wrong but COMPASSION.

Think about it...

Technology and Education...what are we not giving to our next generation

Technology has rapidly changed the way we live our lives. It would not be exaggerated if it was commented that it is difficult to fathom life without the technology. We are accustomed to it, and have twisted and turned the way we live to accommodate the technological advancements. Unwittingly, we have accepted and changed our lifestyles completely and enslaved the future generations to technology! And the business of education is growing leaps and bounds...with extensive research and development, e-learning and what not! As a Senior Officer in a leading educational institute I am bombarded with requests from various new start ups and old stalwarts about the new age learning techniques! Making textbooks and notebooks redundant seems to be there motto...and while I acknowledge that there are some novel ideas behind the technological inroads to the Education System of the country, I feel a strange nostalgic tug of a good old tattered book, the smiling and sari clad teachers and the endless pages of homework that used to wear us out!
A fine woman recently met me, talking on and on about how redundant the Indian Education System was, how it was based on Rote Learning and how it was a bane on the future of our children. I heard her out patiently and even though I strongly felt the urge to tell her otherwise, I nodded and agreed with her. Experience had taught me that simply nodding is the best way to get the person share every detail about their product! I wish to present that question out to the masses and the educated strate of the Indian Society now, the young and the old parents who crib what the Indian Education System has failed to deliver and ask one simple question....If your education system has given you the understanding of what is right and what is wrong...how can that education system be wrong?

India is, impressively, a land of ancient innovations. The ancient Indian Civilizations were miles ahead; we as a community mastered the art of passing on information from one generation to another by means of oral learning...there are hymns as ancient as humans themselves that are resonant in southern parts of the country...the old texts are relevant even today. The world sits and marvels at the relevance of Yoga and follows it...and here is a generation that simply gears up and says...it was all rubbish!

I am all for technology but we must understand that in the garb of technology there are many things which we are not teaching our kids. And because of that, we are now spending extra money on "Specialists" who would help in the Holistic Education of our child. Think over it!

ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE...DOES THE WORLD REALLY NEED IT?

The world is going crazy about the Ice Bucket Challenge and frankly, I think it is lame. Upping and pouring ice water over the top of your head...doing it for a cause...all well...but has the society really gone that insensitive? I personally know people who have taken up the challenge for their facebook pages, for creating videos and uploading the same...to be counted in the millions who are trending and cool!

I was hardly the kind of person who would think twice about something like this, to go one step ahead and write my views on current topics was not something I ever fathomed myself doing. And yet here I am, eager to talk about what all I can see and how I find it wrong on so many counts. And today, I want to talk about Ice Bucket Challenge…reason…a thoughtless, stupid comment by a thoughtless adult!

Here’s what happened, a certain someone on LinkedIn mentioned how people are dying due to shortage of clean water and wasting water in the ice bucket challenge is so wrong on so many counts! To this thought (which I personally feel is rather apt for a country like India where clean drinkable water is fast becoming a scarce commodity!) a certain young princess turned around and shared her own wisdom…stating that water is not wasted and 100% water is recycled! Really? Is that your answer? That I am not wasting clean water…I am simply pouring it in the drain for it to be recycled? Do people actually understand the gravity of the situation we humans are in?

Let me share some facts and figures for the enlightened few! According to Dr. Pradipto Ghosh & Dr. Girija Bharat, India faces an ever increasing deficit of drinkable water resources. The country that houses nearly 17 percent of World’s Population has a meager 4% share of the world’s water resources. Furthermore, adding to the woes is the unequal and rather erratic precipitation (thanks to the increasing pollution and decreasing forest cover) which is not even harvested properly (read the water is not replenished in the system!) The ground water level is decreasing at a rate of 10 cms per year (those who think this is not too shocking please ask the residents of capital city of Delhi who have constantly drilled the earth for more water and found nothing? Only to drill deeper still!). And last but not the least… Over 70% of surface water and ground water resources are contaminated. (The inspired and inquisitive few can read the full article at http://southasia.oneworld.net/peoplespeak/water-woes-shortage-or-wastage#.U_2JscWSzco).

Now back to the brilliant people…here’s a fact – we have water but water worth drinking is not in plenty. Here’s another fact – we are polluting water and contaminating our resources and then spending millions of rupees to ensure we get drinkable water and wasting more water in turn. Now here’s a thought…people taking the ice bucket challenge…who pour ice (in all probability made from drinkable water) over their heads…are you truly doing your bit for the community? You want to help people…spread awareness…don’t go wasting water by pouring it over your heads…remember…it would not automatically find its way to a person’s tap…the process is long, requires us to be vigilant and active…water is never wasted…but pure drinkable water…

Really people…stop wasting water…even if you are among the lucky few who never witnessed shortage and can afford expensive purifiers…don’t waste it for you did nothing…NOTHING to give back to the eco system. 

Mrs. Gupta's Samosas

I have been long toying with the idea of sharing my thoughts on Mrs. Gupta and her famous samosas. Mrs. Gupta is not an extraordinary woman...rather, she is the quintessential Bhartiya Nari as perhaps depicted by the many Ekta Kapoors of the country...the woman whose house is always clean, the kitchen always fragrant, kids and husband all happy and well fed. She is the woman who gets up early in the morning and does not sleep till everyone else is asleep, who ensures that the clothes are ironed, the bills are paid, the rations are full and life, as we know it, runs smoothly. She is the one who pampers you with those perfect hot samosas and the mint chutney, whose dosas are all crisp and brown, who can make the perfect pulao and serve it with the flair of a queen. She is the perfect hostess and the best neighbor...and yet, she is a woman I don't like.
Perhaps it is because she is all perfect...or perhaps, just perhaps that she does not exist. For how can a woman manage so many things at the same time and yet simply forget about her own self? I have long lived in denial of such women...women who tend to be perfect home-makers for I long believed them to be ignorant fools, who in their urge to please the people they love forget that they are humans too and that there is more to life than making samosas or jalebis for that matter. I believed all that...till I met Mrs. Gupta.
Mrs. Gupta is about forty or perhaps forty five ( can't really guess their age for they always have a grown up child and a husband who looks much older...), of average height and a pale wheatish complexion. The eyes are big but bigger still is her bosom and the well rounded buttocks. She has a perpetual smile on her face and you can well make out the laugh lines, wondering if she has been smiling her whole life? She is all of the above and more...but what I remember most about her are her exquisite samosas. I still remember the day I first saw her and could not believe my eyes. It seemed so like an old movie...for who carries treats to their next door neighbors now? Busy with the work...my life never even afforded me the time to interact with my neighbors, let along make treats for them but them I considered myself the Modern Indian Woman...a woman who was touted to be independent, informed and well...ill mannered! That is an honest opinion about myself and teh many like me, who forget that it is necessary to be polite to people you care about and also to people you don't. For that is what Mrs. Guptas of the world do with elan...be polite!
Anyhow, back to the day or rather the evening I first met her. It had been hardly a week since I had shifted to our new home and it was also the very first Sunday I had had in my new home. As expected, the house was a royal mess. Boxes all over the floor, some open, some still sealed. It had been a  long and busy day and after sending Aryan off to the playground below, I was just settling to make a cup of tea for myself. My darling husband had finally decided that he had done his share and would not budge without a cup of tea. Grudgingly, for every muscle in my body ached, I had made two cups of tea a nd has shuffled space enough for only the two of us on the couch. My thoughts had only just wondered towards some sort of a snack when the doorbell rang and she materialized in front of me, a plate of awesome looking samosas and a smile that ran from ear to ear.
My first thought was..."What the hell!" but I smiled and waited for her to say.
"Myself Malini Gupta, your next door neighbor."
I was incredulous...it felt weird and surreal at the same time. Almost as if the woman heard my empty stomach growl and came rushing to my rescue. Such was my disbelief that I stood there, uncertain as to what should I say. To a person who speaks for a living, this was indeed a moment of acute embarrassment.
"Hi, Parag." he came, as always, to my rescue and pushed me aside a bit.
"Please come in," he added with a flourish and that was invitation enough. Malini Gupta strutted inside my mangled abode and I looked at Parag, the ever so social and well mannered Parag! Shrugging in-distinctively, I closed the door and followed the lady as she stood looking at the enormous boxes, looking for a place for herself as well as her samosas. She finally found some and parked herself on the seat vacated by me. Parag went and sat on the place opposite, leaving me standing there to find something for myself.
By that time I had recovered from the initial shock and introduced myself, and by that I mean I he  shared my name. She smiled and looked around, not disapproving, just assessing.
"Still unpacking. I understand. First Sunday no," she nodded understandingly and went on.
"I had made these samosas and thought I would share them with you. Aryan loves them!" she o my gushed and I frowned. I recalled Pinki telling me that Aryan had had met the neighbors but I could not recall her telling me that he had been fed as well.
"That's so nice of you." Parag smiled and I forced one too.
She just sat there, talking about what we did, what her husband did and what her son did. It took us all of 5 minutes to know about her life...her two sons, one working, the other still studying. And within that time she had asked us about everything...where we were originally from, what Parag and I did for a living...all in 5 minutes. After that, she stayed on and I dreaded for the moment when Parag would do the inevitable, which he did next.
"Please have some tea..."
Another cup! I felt the thought curse through my brain but she read my mind again and politely yet firmly shook her head.
"No thanks. I just had a cup. Mr. Gupta had gone down for his walk so I though I would say hello. Isn't Aryan home?"
"No, he just went to the swings with Pinki." I finally chipped in, relieved and happy to have been spared the ordeal.
"Oh. He is very cute. lovely baby."
I smiled again and stood up as Mrs. Gupta finally stood to leave. She stopped once at the door and smiled at me.
"I hope you like the samosas." she said and I thanked her again for her kindness and thoughtfulness and saw her move towards her door, waiting for her to enter her house and close the door before I could shut it and forget that that had really happened.
That was my very first interaction with Mrs. Gupta and today, as I sit across her smiling self, her famous samosa in my hand and feel the soft crunch followed by the exquisitely flavored fillings, I can only wonder...how this world can not do without the Mrs. Guptas and their famous samosas...

To be continued...

Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction and though inspired by living persons...is not related to any person living or dead. It is a pure work of fiction. 

The Slumber Ends...

Waking up from a deep slumber can sometimes be rather unpleasant. To begin with, you don't want to. I mean why to leave the comfort of the bed, the soft warmth of your baby besides you, the silence and peace of nothingness...Then of course it is the thought of the day to day that irritates and annoys and gnaws on the last bits of sleep. With an unsettled mind, you let go for you must. And today, I do the same.

I had all but given up writing. It was perhaps my lack of time (though strictly not true!) that kept me away from doing the one thing that I love to do most...write. But then I stumbled on a line in a Paulo Coehlo's book....the Zaahir. I have not finished reading it, but I read 10 pages and felt this deep urge to get up and write...write for there was never ever anything else that I wanted to do in my life. Even when I aspired to be a doctor, I did under the assumption that once I was a doctor, I would have enough money and time to sit and write. Then I wanted to be a designer, a Manager and then a wife and a mother. At every turn in my life, I gave myself reasons why I could not write and waited for that perfect time to appear. As predictable...that moment never really came. Until I read the words...

"The truth is that I have money, I have contacts, but what I don’t have is the courage to write a book."
The words... stared at me from the pages of a book that has been lying on a shelf, unattended. Wasn't it true for me as well? Was I not just hiding behind the many many reasons to simply avoid accepting that the only thing I did not have was courage.

I don't claim that I have some all of a sudden...but what I do have is renewed vigor, motivation and perhaps a strong desire, to wake up. My slumber has long kept me under the sheets but the joys of life, of getting up and getting out are forcing me to leave the nasty comforts of my bed and dare...I still don't have my story...but I have my words back and my brain cells twirling with ideas...I can see many colors around and though the bed is all cosy...I must get up...for when we don't try, dreams turn into regrets.

A Promise worth keeping!

I am not happy. It's one of those days when you sit back and ponder over your decision, understand the consequences, realize how life has to go on and gear up for the next day. And while I was doing this and feeling like stopping the work I was doing, yet realizing that I must, I felt this urge to write, for there is no better medicine for my foul mood. It's that elixir that clears my head and gives me the strength to move ahead. Every single time I have felt life's situations clawing over my though process, my words have come to my rescue. And hence my decision to put my work aside, just sit for a while and pen them down.

And when I thought about writing a blog I recalled my husband complaining that I never write about him! In fact he complains that I don't write at all now. There are no letters, no love notes and no text messages!!!! Hence here I am, keeping my promise.

Before he frowns that I have wasted half a page, let me assure him that I would dedicate the remaining half to him. So here's a letter, only for you.

Dear Husband,

I still remember the time I first saw you, sitting on that table in the college cafeteria and strangely whenever, to this day, I think about you, I can remember you the way you were, the first time I saw you. I remember a lot many things as well, the look on your face when you saw me crying in the rain for the very first time, the anger when I whimpered about my inability to persist and then the concern with which you bandaged my injuries, the mock smiles of derision and the sweet smile of love and appreciation. There are just so many things that I think about whenever I think about you. Obviously then there are the days when anger consume me and I think of all the bad days but this aint't that day.

You have been a splendid friend Prashant. And more than that, you have been the support that can not be expressed. When I was going through the labor pains and crying out, just the look of calm on your face filled me with a sense of reassurity that you would take care of me, that no matter what happens, it would be all right in a matter of time. Your look of appreciation still fills me with a sense of pride and I appreciate the way I look. Your confidence in my abilities make me want to try harder and sometimes perhaps a bit arrogant! Yet no matter what, your presence in my life completes me like none other.

Yes there are days when we don't see eye to eye. But that's because we are married. However, at the end of every argument I have felt that no matter how I see it, no matter what the repercussions...being with you is a habit I can't quit! and moreover, I can't quit.

Not many understand why we are together. To a third person we both come across as headstrong personalities with deep resentment for authority. What they however don't understand is that for some reason both of us complement the other in ways which are surreal. For this I thank you.

There are many things that I have to thank you for but that would be a little personal for such a public forum.

I can't comment on the kind of husband you are but you are a splendid friend, an awesome guide and my soul mate!

I love you jaan. And this is a kept promise! Your turn.

Kanu

P.S Anniversary is round the corner...shud I remind you of various promises made but still pending!!!!!! :)

And so it happens!

Today is not a particularly happy day for me. My baby woke up when he realized that I had left my bed and started crying and calling for me, getting angry at the thought that I would be leaving him again. And I had to.
Its been a week that I have been working and every single day is a fight. The first day he was okay, the second he did not understand and now he does. I can hear him calling my name when I ring the bell in the evening and my heart cries out for leaving him for the entire day. And yet I know that it is for the best.
Yet today I felt I am making choices where I am giving precedence to my career. Today I realize that being a mother is not easy. FOr every decision which would be remotely selfish would make guilt run through your system and make you wonder if you are a good person.
Two years I was with him. I saw him grow, witnessed his antics, his small little tantrums, the way he started walking, making faces, repeating words. His first words, calling me ma...I remember everything and would never truly forget. And yet I collected myself, got dressed and left the house.

Sometimes being a mother is more about ensuring the future of your child. You need to compromise on the present only because you know that tomorrow is yet to come. Decisions today would alter my tomorrow. I only pray from god that I don't make a wrong one today in hope of a tomorrow!

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.

No pain...no gain...now I know what they mean

Well...it happened. On 30th morning the doctor decided that it was time that I park myself in the hospital. The baby would be out anytime late that night or early 31st morning. So, there I was, suffering from all the anticipation and anxiety of the event about to happen. Well wishers were informed and they settled outside the room, waiting for the miracle of miracles to happen and late evening the fated labour pains started. Mild contractions turning into spasms of unexpressive pain went soaring through my body as I waited impatiently for them to increase so that I would finally see my baby.
Ever heard of the adage whatever goes around comes around? well I was in for a shock. When my mother was expecting me she went through horrid labour pains with no result. I had been a spoilt brat and had turned my head and the doctors had to at the last minute do a C-section and pry me out. That is what happened with me as well and I got a taste of my own medicine. After almost twelve hours of unbearable pain...the baby decided he wanted to stay a little longer and turned his head. End result...a C-section. And after crying and howling and cursing anybody and everybody who came in front of me, begging for some mercy and the pains to stop...I was told I would be operated upon. The relief was heartfelt...to know that the pains would finally stop. But at the same time I don't remember really feeling it. The pain sent rude shocks through my body as my mind started getting oblivious of the situation, of people around me. And then I walked into the OT, too drained to scream out as the body went through successive contractions again. And then I was lying down on the operating table. People wearing masks and blue overalls started entering and I heard voices telling me what they were doing. At 2:15 the anaesthetic placed the mask on my nose and all I heard was "You are going to feel a bit sleepy." And that was that...I don't recall anything except my husband uttering the words..."the baby is fair and is 3.7 kgs!"

Have I forgotten the pain? Not really...I still get goosebumps thinking about it. Do I regret it...No...I still feel awesome about it. I look at the small bundle cradled in my arms and wonder at the miracle life is...at the awesome treasure god has given me. Do I blame anyone? No...I only have everybody to thank...God for my baby is healthy and so am I...Prashant for he gave me such a gift...didi for standing by my side through it all and being the mother she has always been...bhabhi and alka masi for bearing with me and holding my handing as i screamed in pain...

And what do I have to say about it...I am a proud mother...go on and Congratulate me for I am finally a mother...

Yes...Its a BOY.

The Final Countdown

The clock has started ticking and I have started counting down the days to the big day...the only thing is that with every day that goes by I feel the wait getting longer and longer and the days stretching beyond comfort. The weird thing about childbirth is, it is unique and nobody can predict the exact time when the child decides that it is time to get going!!! Nobody even knows what triggers the phenomenon. And here I am being forced to try out all the nuances of old wives' tales...drinking warm milk, walking, eating dry fruits, nuts and what not to somehow make the baby go...I wish it was as simple as telling the baby...alright, time to move your ass...!

Strange game this final intezaar. With every spasm of pain you look expectantly at the watch...and then when it does not reoccur...well it does not and instead of being relaxed you feel the old desperation seep in. And if the baby's little pranks are not enough your mind starts playing with you. By now I have thought of all the worst case scenarios when I would be in labor and stuck in jam, all alone...totally ignorant of it etc etc. In short, it has stretched to the point where I am plain bored of the wait...of looking for signs of labor...of trying to discern a simple muscular spasm and the supposedly excruciating contractions! When I asked my sister she smiled and asked me have I shouted out in pain yet and I repied ruefully that I haven't yet. And with the knowing gleam of been there, done that she smiled at me and she said...'You would scream. And when you do...everyone would know!"

So here's to the last week of this fascinating first voyage into the realms of motherhood...and no matter what I say...I am still counting...tick tok tick tok....