Your Mother...

I loved this story: Your Mother

*****
Your mother hated being photographed. She had romantic notions of how perfect her body looked at certain angles and to have them crushed by the awkward reality of a still life was simply unbearable. So I learned to capture moments using words and silences.

On this day, she sat perched on the first floor balcony’s platformed railing. Our room overlooked the magnificent Bay of Bengal – swollen & angry. We’d mistimed our vacation and landed up at Chinnakalpet in the middle of the Tamil Nadu monsoon. Swimming in the choppy sea was out of the question & even when it wasn’t raining, the weather was spectacularly wild. Earlier in the afternoon I’d run my hands through her hair and lightly kissed her neck as we looked at the stunning view afforded us by the balcony. When I’d asked her if she wanted to walk along the beach with me, she’d pushed me out of the room – “We don’t have to do everything together, do we?” And she was right. I took off with my camera.

With every step, my feet sank deeper into the golden sand. The effort it took to take the next step reminded me of how we were both getting older and how my body was beginning to express its tiredness. We had tried, your mother & I, to have children over the past two years but two miscarriages later she decided we needed to stop. “I have run out of tears, Arun,” she said. Instead, we decided to get into our tiny car and head off anywhere the wind would take us (her words, not mine).

The wind had led me here and if I wasn’t careful, it would sweep me further into the Bay. “Hold on to your hat, man!” cried a man coming at me from the opposite side. Considering he was the one wearing the hat and not me, I found him amusing.
“Nice weather we’re having, aren’t we?” I joked.
“Absolute perfection. I hope you’re bracing yourself for Cyclone Leela!”
“What? No! I mean, I haven’t even heard about it. My wife & I here on vacation.”
“Vacation?!! That’s rich, dear chap! I’d turn my ship right round and head back for shore. Nigel Forman, by the way.”
“Arun Desai.”
“Pleasure to bump into you, Arun. You will not be soon forgotten. Good bye & good tidings!”

And off he went, striding strongly, pushing back against the strong winds. I stood and watched the strange old man as he climbed the slippery rocks leading into the ocean. When he reached the farthest rock he opened his arms out wide, embracing the elements: the violent spray of the sea, the full force of the wind & the unending sky before him. You might say he had a few screws loose but in that moment I envied him his freedom.

I walked further, clicking photographs along the way. Perfect little seashells, fishing boats making their way back to the beach and the odd little picture that our resort’s quaint cottages made on that stormy evening. I began to miss your mother and so I turned back.

I took the cobbled stone path to our room. Along the way, I came upon the family that was staying across the hall from us. They were out on the lawn taking advantage of the few rainless hours. Two little girls played in the dirt as their parents relaxed over a cup of coffee. The younger of the two was an independent spirit. Barely 3 or 4, she wandered off repeatedly on her own, digging holes in the ground en route. Her mother would call out for her at regular intervals, but she wouldn’t listen. She would carry on on her quest; now a flower to be dissected, now a butterfly to be chased. And then there was the matter of jumping into that puddle. Eventually, the mother caught up with her little imp and hoisted her over the shoulder. Both mother & daughter, laughing, disappeared into the bushes and then out of sight.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I looked up at that very instant and caught your mother looking right at me. There she was, seated cross-legged on our balcony’s platformed railing. She had wrapped a dupatta around herself, one end of which was flying unrestrained in the wind like her uncombed hair. She had never looked more beautiful. I instinctively lifted my camera to capture her breathtaking image. But in the very next instant, I changed my mind and there I was, running up the stairs as quickly as I could. The door was open, I rushed right through it and scooped her up in my embrace. We held each other so tight that not even the cyclonic winds churning up outside could have torn us apart.
The next morning, we admitted defeat in the face of Cylcone Leela, packed our backs and returned home. Not long after that your mother announced that she was pregnant with you.

From, Aquatic Static. Do visit the blog, one of my favourites.

*****
Stories like these make it so hard to come back to the real life, no? Sigh.

A Warm Bundle Of Dimpled Joy...

What I am listening to these days...

P.S: I might still not like kids, but I do like one liddle kid, a whole damn too much. Of course, who else is to be blamed but my dear friend hormones? Sometimes if I sit very still, I can even hear my bones creaking. Sigh, and it's 2011 still.

A Cheap & Easy Affair...

If tomorrow my kids ask me why I didn't marry that very rich and good-looking guy, I hope they'll understand when I tell them that he did not read. I hope they'll forgive.

Now You See, Now You Don't...

I was speaking to sister today and listening to how naughty the nephew's become, and I must admit I am looking forward to their visit in Diwali this year.


The first time I saw the nephew in real life, I had just come home that morning, he was on the living room floor, dressed in a yellow t-shirt(I think he looks the best in yellow) and diapers, playing with his yellow-red cars. And as I approached him, tentatively, scared that he might start crying, I said look who's here and extended my hand, smilingly, to touch his cheeks, and he looked up, smiled, placed his forefinger on my palm. And the fact that he's such a pricey baby and does not let anyone even close, made that gesture all the more precious.



That same afternoon, having put him to sleep, sister went out for some work. And just an hour later nephew woke up and of course, on finding himself alone in a new place, without his mother around, started howling. After 10 minutes of pacifying him, mother finally gave him to me, just play with him she said. And I, very reluctantly of course, picked him up, a crying baby (for the very first time in my life, I hate crying babies!) and he sat snuggly on my right arm, looked at me, placed his head on my shoulder, wrapped his tiny arms around my neck and slept with a whimper, tears still stuck to his long black eyelashes, much like morning dew on grass.



And with those two gestures he gave me the most precious thing a baby can give you, his trust. And with that, he made sure that his aunt will do anything, but never misplace it.



Every time I think of the newphew, I remember this one time I was trying to put him to sleep, and after twenty minutes I had exhausted the few precious lullabies I knew, and the nephew was still wide awake. So I finally started singing/humming Bollywood songs. No kidding, he slept in five minutes! :P Don't ask me which Bollywood songs now :)



Talking about sleeping, the sight of a sleeping baby must be one of those heart-achingly beautiful images that will never fade from your mind. His little hands placed side by side on the bed, his tiny pink fingers curled. His dark eyelashes making half moons on his pink puffed cheeks, his ruffled hair, his pink soft lips, his little chest rising gently, and you almost swell with pride, as a human, on seeing such a beautiful human infant.



But no, I still do not like kids.

We Are Here For A Reason...And It's Not Fun...

Having the nephew for 1 whole month has been quite a revelation, to put it mildly. Now that that one month is coming to an end, I can pretty much boast of being semi-qualified as a mother.

For the one whole month sister was here, she was on vacation (meaning she got to sleep for 5 hours at a stretch, poor thing), so it was all left to Dad and me to take care of the nephew. Nephew didn't take to mum a lot, so he pretty much stuck to dad's side or then mine.


So my repertoire includes bathing an one year old, feeding him, clothing him, changing his diapers, keeping him entertained for hours and though it still requires monumental effort to control my shrieks every time I feel something warm running down my legs, I am now also okay with things like baby pee and baby poop without puking. What else? I can even sing lullabies and put a kid to bed. Nice? Eh? And all this without having ever touched or even looked at a kid before. Would it be bragging if I said I was awesome?

No, right? I know, honestly, I deserve a medal!

(Which was duly gifted by sister in the form of payals. And I love them! I almost want to grab the first guy I see on the street and show him how beautiful and feminine my feet look with those colourful anklets and then feel all happy)


Moving on, I am also fully qualified as a hostess. I must have entertained atleast 5 dozen guests in the last one month whilst taking care of the nephew(Clearly, we are not a very sociable family). How awesome can I get? They should like make a new award for women like me!


But I hated every minute of it. Like really, now I know why women want to marry only rich men. Cause rich men can employ two dozen servants at home for all this entertaining business. All the hostess has to do is dress up and sit nicely and smile prettily at the guests and say, "ramu, memsaheb ke liye woh sherbet lana, aur baby ke liye woh lichee ice cream lana", and afterwards, when the party is over, all she has to do is remove the heavy jewellery and remove the pins from her hair and sigh wearily at her husband, who's rich remember?, and tell him how tiring all of it was and Mrs. Snooty-ass definitely wore a prettier diamond necklace. Like really, there's no cooking and washing plates in her life. I want to be a memsaheb too!


No surprise then, I have just postponed marriage by another 5 years and don't plan to have a kid. Unless someone pays me a few hundred lakhs to have a kid (which ain't happening).

Err, yes.

I cried the first day the nephew was here. Now, I am a very private person. I need my "me" time. I need loads of alone time. Which was like zero when the nephew was here. Usually, frustration comes out in two forms: loud, peppered with swear words yelling or then muffled sobs. Since the loud yelling would have woken up the nephew, I had to settle with the sobs. The first day I had to deal with a kid, it freaked me. I am, even now, after one month, can-pee-in-my-pants scared.

Motherhood is not easy.

Let me say it again, motherhood, is not easy. 

I said semi-qualified, cause motherhood is more than bathing and feeding a kid. It requires a whole different sort of sacrifice. A whole lot of patience. All women with kids are not mothers, some are just child bearers. It takes something much more to be a mother. You need true whole genuine love in your heart to be a good mother. Every woman should be scared of being a mother, cause it's a tough job. No demand is exaggerated, no sacrifice too big. Motherhood is not all toys and rainbows. At times you'll want to hate your own kid, but you can not. You can not disown your kid, or give him away one day you're tired and frustrated and under-slept and underfed and on saline cause you're so weak or even dying the very next day. You have to count to10, take a deep breath and paste a smile on your face and tell your kid something funny.


Married couples, please please spend atleast minimum two years with each other. Do not, really, do not rush to have kids. Your whole life, as you know it, will change once you have a kid. It will never be the same again, ever. Even after they, your kids, graduate from high school.


Enjoy your precious independent days. Stop hankering after marriage, those who are single. You know how you plan your day without a single thought for anyone else? That? That is gold. That freedom. Treasure it. Love it. Respect it. You'll miss it so much once you have a kid, but it'll never come back no matter how many times you say you miss your single days.


Having a kid means timing your loo breaks, means forgetting the idea of a full meal, means thinking atleast 10 times before going downstairs even, means thanking your stars if you get to sleep for 3 hours at stretch one fine day, means celebrating with canned juice if your kid sleeps without crying for one whole hour first, having a kid means no time for exercise, no time for looking good, being cut from the entire world, means no alone time ever with your spouse, and definitely, forget anything about sex once you have a kid. For one, your bodies, women, will be your worst nightmare. But you'll accept it anyway, cause every time you want to curse having a kid, you'll look at your baby looking at you with eyes full of hope and innocence and then she'll/he'll flash you her/his best smile and you'll say, its okay, I don't mind it, it gave me you. But yes, any man who sleeps with you post baby, tie him to your bed and never let him go, ever. And two, if you ever get any time, even like 20 mins alone, sleep! You can never bet when you'll get 20 whole uninterrupted minutes to sleep again.

Sex? Forget it.

Alrighty, I am off to make some watermelon juice for the nephew then. 

Revelation, Darling, Revelation...

My curves are not for kids. 

Little People, Big Horrors....

It's been almost 10 days since the nephew came to India, and I have come to understand three universal truths about having kids. I shall write a whole big post later, when I get some time, but for now, pay attention:


Realization# 1: Forgot all about yourself once you have a kid. In short, your freedom is fucked.

Realization# 2: For a cleanliness and neatness freak like me, having a kid around is like my worst nightmare come true. Either have two dozen servants at hand to clean and mop constantly, do it yourself and die of exhaustion or then close your eyes and learn to enjoy living in something like a pigsty.

Realization# 3: Women, oh dear women, your beautiful divine body, it will resemble something close to a overstuffed potato sack after having a baby. And that'll be the least of your worries. Unless ofcourse you're Victoria Beckham. In which case, you can go sip a martini and worry about your $20,000 manicure.


Nature, you are most biased toward men. 

Mango And A Jackfruit...

What do you say of a girl whose worst fear is that she would turn out to be like her mother?

A Rose By Any Other Name?

Okay, so you know what they say about women? That all of them, no matter how deeply they hate men, or marriage or kids, they all have already thought of their kid's names? Well,  I'd like to argue that I have already thought of names for my pets too. My fat lazy cat would be named Hippo/Garfield, if he's cute, fluffy little thing, then Candy. If she is a beautiful, mean, grey-eyed feline, Cleo. Dogs...I yet have to decide. I have christened my bike and car and soft toys too(sister's soft toys she left behind). So come on, it's absolutely irresistible not to think of names for your kids! I have been busy thinking of nick names for my nephew these days and let me tell you it has nothing to do with being a woman! Like really, I am the last person to have any maternal feelings! It's just convenience sake. Really.

Okay, so, now that that's out of the way, I already know what I'd name a boy, and I always wanted to name a girl baby "Dream", but since that sounds a little crazy, I have found the perfect name. Ruya. It's a Turkish name for dream:) Nice, yes? :)

Jungle Book...

So the nephew's coming over to India for a vacation and I can't wait to buy all those colourful children's books and read stories to him :)

A Pink Rose Bud...

I hope when we become parents, I hope we don't forget that we don't own our kids. We might have given them birth and raised them, but I hope we don't make the same mistake our parents did of deciding their life and dreams for them. I hope the men realise the difference between being the head of the house and a tyrant when they become fathers. I hope they remember that there is no place for ego in a family. I hope the mothers remember to speak up for what's right, even if it means going against the husband. I hope we believe in our kids dreams, and let them have their wings. I hope we don't clip their wings saying we know better. I hope we remember to let them make their own mistakes. And still accept them when they come home defeated and hurt from the battles.

I hope we don't expect our kids to repay with their dreams for the life we gave them. 

*****

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

- Khalil Gibran

They Know What Boys Want...

I don't have kids, heck, I am not even married yet, but this article has me scared for the future kids. I almost want to lock up my imaginary kids and cut off their internet and take away their smartphones, which I do realise is never gonna happen. And I am left to wonder what next? Kids might as well come out of their mother's womb and start demanding/having sex with the next baby in the incubator. I won't be surprised.

Hello World...

Praveen is a daddy!!! :D  I am sure Ahana (love the name!) is going to be the super hot rocker chick and drive her parents up the wall! :D Welcome to this world! I always wanted a niece and trust me, you're getting that pink lacy frock soon! Wait for it doll :)

Tik-Tok...

I oscillate between hope and despair like...like the way only I can.

*****
And I should totally write a book now-"How not to screw up at 26". I think there will be many takers, no?

*****
Everybody telling me to get married because I am 26 now and time is slipping by, quit it. Cause I am not quitting on my dreams, however irrational they may be.

And if nothing, I can always be the favourite aunt your kids would visit during their summer holidays. I could read to them and tell them all sorts of wonderful stories, and I could bake the best chocolate cake for them and I could teach the girls to garden and knit and play the piano and I could teach the boys how to impress the ladies. See? Your kids will love me.

Erm, alright, maybe not.

*****
There's no place harsher for a woman than women's loo. From the second she enters the loo, till the time she leaves, she is put under the microscope. Right from her hair to the colour of her toenail paint, everything is judged. She has no respite from the overcritical and unrelenting appraisal and the opinions that follow. Nothing is verbally said, not oh-so-loud atleast, but opinions are conveyed none the less.


I don't think two women staring into the same mirror can ever be friends. They'll smile at each other and chat about the latest mascara in the market, but as soon as one turns her back, the other will snigger. Ah, it is a bad bad place to be.


Funny then, that women should spend so much time in the loo.

*****
And I find it funnier that men all the world will miss their breakfast or skip lunch and the woman will find herself forcing him to eat. "You didn't eat lunch?!" *gasp* "You must eat something now! Why can't you ever take care of your health! blah-blah-blah! You always skip your breakfast as well! some more blah-blah-blah". And the guy will simply say, "I didn't feel like eating/I didn't get time, was busy/ I picked up a coke on the way/Stop fussing", and then the woman will get furious and further insist he eat.


Yours truly has done it. Sometimes I cringe and sometimes I feel it's justified. And I find it hypocritical of me that although I, myself, have missed meals several times, on several occasions, the woman in me just can not see anyone else hungry.


But *sigh*, I need to stop mothering. If you don't want to eat, well, stay hungry, let's talk about sex instead.

Kiddie Things...

1)I don't remember exactly how small I was, but Dad was in the hospital and I had gone to visit him with mum. And while mum went to get Dad's medicines, I went to play in the adjoining balcony. And within 5 mins Dad had to come rushing to the balcony to rescue me. I had got my head stuck between the bars.

I was also one of those kids who inserted her fingers through the grill of a running table fan. Also tried to stop a running ceiling fan by sticking a big rod between the blades. I am surprised I am alive.


2)I also successfully managed to lodge a big (fake) pearl in right nostril at a very small age and it took around 1/2 hour to get it out. Also choked on many coins from time to time.


3)For years I waited for a watermelon tree to sprout from my mouth. I was positive one day a watermelon would tree would grow in my stomach. After all, trees grew from seeds right?


4)As kids, I played alone and always made up stories where I was the central character, ofcourse. I loved draping sister's orange dupatta and playing the character of Sita.

If I only knew what a sucky love-life she had, I would have chosen a different character :|


5)I loved playing "teacher-teacher" and had a box of chalks and a black board and a duster, just like they had in school. I loved giving homework to my imaginary students and ofcourse everyone was punished with double homework if they failed to finish previous day's homework. I taught poems from those little prayer books they sold in school.


6)Every afternoon after I'd come home from school, I would first keep my bag in one particular corner, finish my school homework for the day and only then change and eat. Go to tuition class, come back home at 6 PM, finish tuition home work, light diya at 7 PM with mom and say my daily prayers and then watch news with Dad. Help mom with Dinner and sleep by 9PM. In later years after dinner I would promptly iron my washed pinafore and polish shoes for the next day and pack my bag and keep it ready.

I wish I was even 1/10th as disciplined now.


7)I was one of those kids who *had* to buy something during a trip to the market. I would, like all bad kids, sit on the road and cry my lungs out. You had to atleast buy a vegetable to make me quiet.


8)I was also one of those kids who insisted on wearing new shoes in the store itself. Parents always got the old ones packed while I immediately got to show off in new pair of shoes.


9)I loved Sundays as a kid. Every Sunday mom would make "special" breakfast and we'd all eat while watching Ramanand Sagar's Ramayan/Mahabharat.


10)Every morning a kingfisher bird would come and sit on the electricity wires in front of our balcony. Dad and I had this daily routine, where either one of us would check if he was there that morning. For years, every morning, that kingfisher bird would come, sit for sometime and then fly away.

I wonder if he knew we waited for him every morning.


11)As a kid, the only way you could get me to wear an underwear was if you'd let me have a tail too. So mum or cousin sister would hang a waist string (petticoat nada) from the underwear and I'd go around the house shouting "Jai Hanuman". Too much Ramayan obviously.


12)I had no friends growing up(till about 4th grade) and parents had to actually drag me to the playground and ask other kids to include me in the games. I wanted to instead study.


What are your kiddie memories like?

Nobody Knows...

I am going to teach my daughter how to deal with heartache.

Yes, you read me right.

Woollen Socks...

*Typical cho-chweet girlie alert*

I am positive the only thing that can induce me into having/adopting kids is clothes.

Those little clothes! Oh you must see them! They are chooooooooooo c-u-t-e! I swear, I don't like kids, but their clothes? Those little woollen socks, like little ones, they are so darling, I could eat them. And those little lacy tiny frocks! Oh my god...I swear I could just adopt a little girl right now so I could dress her up! 

After full 15 years went to the same store (which is now bigger and jazzier) that my parents would take us to for buying our Diwali clothes. Bought Indian wear for the nephew AND did not, dear blog, you have to hear this, did not buy a SINGLE thing for myself! This is a record! Somewhere in an alternate nicer Universe I am being felicitated right now! Like really, I did not buy a single thing for myself! Am I like the best aunt or what?

The bad news however is that I found one reason to have kids. Scary. Like really, dude, I am growing up too fast for my liking. I need to stay away from kiddie clothes! Now!