Their "Us" Moment

They were driving back from a get together at a friend's house. The pitter-patter of the raindrops on the windshield was like a rhythm to their year old toddler's continuous babbles.

Suddenly he said something funny which made her laugh.

"I am happy that I can still make you laugh." he said, smiling at her earnestly.

"Mnh-hnn" She smiled back at him, reached for his hand and entwined her fingers in his.

A moment of silence later she responded, "You can make me cry too."

"I was thinking the same. And I am sorry for such times!"

... and just like that, they had their "Us" moment which they hadn't had in a very very long time.

;)

Why I Don't Have A Pet

I have already once written about my pet parrot in my blog that I deleted. I feel the need to write about it once again. One of my favourite author, Preeti Shenoy, often writes about her pet dog. Yesterday's post was one such (rather her pic with Lostris, her pet Dob), which made my mind track back to the time when I had my own pet.

I do not remember the details very correctly, but I am going to narrate as I remember it. I was around 6 - 7 years of age when this parrot entered into our lives. My maternal grandma had recently expired. (I don't recall if it was days/ weeks or months before) The environment in the house was generally subdued. One day while returning from our grocery shopping, we found a wounded parrot in the semi-parking duct space. As kids, myself and V were very excited and wanted to nurse it back to health. We pleaded our parents to let us take it home, which they gladly accepted. My mother instantly related this to my grandma's return in another form.

We kept him warm and gave it some fruit and water. The next day my father got him a cage where he could perch. We always kept the cage door open, lest he wanted to fly away. Myself and V being happy at his arrival, spent all our free time with him. We tried to teach him to talk. (He was a grown bird and we were unaware that the best time to teach them to talk is when they are babies) Despite his inability to catch up on words, we loved feeding him soaked lentils out of our palms. We loved watching him flap his wings. In fact, we just loved the idea of him being there. It also seemed like he was getting better every hour.

Every morning after waking up, I would go pet him (even before I brushed my teeth)! Every noon when I came home from school, I wanted to feed him (even before I changed into my pjs)! I was smitten by this new entrant.

It was one of the weekend days, I guess, because that day we woke up late. My mother was trying not to get me near the cage. She was adamant that I brush my teeth and get done with the breakfast. I don't know if I obeyed her. All I remember is seeing my parrot lying lifeless in the cage. His eyes shut tight. (It was just a week or so after we got him home) We cried the whole day. My father buried him in the garden at the backside of our building. I cried throughout the burial uncontrollably. V tried to console me but he was tearing up too. I didn't eat anything for several hours. Mom had to coax me into having something.

After that, even though I did ask my parents to buy me a pet, I did not mean it. I did not try to convince them or beg them because I did not have the courage to face another separation. Till date I do not think I have it in me. It is wrong and morbid to think of separation even before I get one. But that's how it is with me. When I think of a pet, all I think is "how do I deal with its loss?" With that thought, I back off.

Whenever I see someone with their pet; how much love they share, the camaraderie; I flirt with the idea of how it would be if I had one. Now that I have a kid, I realise that in a few years she might demand for a pet. I am still unsure of how to deal with that. It would be unfair for me to devoid her of a friend and beautiful companionship just because I am averse to it. I know for sure that I cannot remain aloof and show no emotion towards it.

I don't know if I'll ever be ready to allow a pet to steal my heart and then have it hurt and broken because of loss/ separation. Perhaps I still have a long time to prepare myself for it. It'd be great if I have a change of heart and turn this reluctance into surety.

Marriage is a Three-Legged Race

 Isn't it? Two individuals, countless dreams, varied thoughts, myriad opinions, different strategies, but one goal. Tied at the feet, two individuals have to cross the finish line without tripping over. Sounds like an easy one, but many are stumped over it. Communication, co-ordination, communication is necessary. Likewise one cannot discount understanding, trust and the will to make it happen.

Tomorrow we are completing three years of married life. (Hence, the title) Our journey for these three years have been with its highs and lows. We have had a lot of wonderful moments that will remain etched in our memories till forever. And there were not so great moments too. Nothing out of ordinary, but everything is still special.

People change, relationships evolve and our whole world metamorphoses. In fact it keeps changing, at every event, every incident - big or small. We have too. Looking back at how we started off and seeing how we are today, has many differences. Fortunately those differences are not undesirable. I'd like to believe that we are wiser, have a better understanding of ourselves and people around us. We have learnt lessons together. Lessons that were harshly taught by others and situations. We have a better understanding of our life goals.

All these happened only after we made mistakes. As individuals, we did wrong and stumbled. While the other did get angry and frustrated, amends were made and a loving helping hand was always offered to the one on the ground. We have fought about things, bickered at each other's errors. But in the end, we did look beyond the ugly. I think that matters the most. In fact, on a personal note, I think fights are refreshing. They push out all the hostilities and you can start anew.

We have a beautiful daughter and we have enjoyed every bit of her. We loved bringing her up together, and with no help from anyone. It was something we shared. We have been able to relish every part of her first year. I cannot thank Kiran enough for being there for me at all those times and for not giving up on me during that times I felt like I was an undeserving mother. He took care of situations where I was insecure and scared. When no one supported me or my decisions, he told me to believe in myself and my maternal instinct.

We sat up all night when Aarnavi was unwell. Both clueless on how to go by the night. We have taken turns holding and soothing her when she cried on endlessly for reasons that were never revealed. The whole of last year has been "We". We worked as a team. Pushing away individual wishes, ignoring individual needs, we have worked in tune. It is a good thing when you are not alone in the sacrificing bit. Aarnavi's arrival gave a whole new meaning to our relationship. Agreed we have too little time for each other now, but whenever we do, it is special.

Three years is not such a long time. But for me it was, as every minute counted. And it still does. There is a big, winding road ahead of us and a lot more to be explored in this journey. I want my marriage to work and not in a compromising way. I want it to be at the center of my world.

This is the moment that I treasure the most... 

Kanyadaan

Comparisons

It starts with innocent childhood milestones. Does your kid sit up? Does s/he crawl? How many teeth does s/he have? Oh, mine is a fast learner. My baby has 16 teeth. Mine walks unsupported at 8 months, what does your kid do?

Don't they sound familiar? That is because at some point each parent has compared their kid to another of the same age.  Are they slow? Are they lacking skills? Is this how it is supposed to be? Probably, the parents fear if or not their kids are developing the way they should.

Even long after they are convinced that everything is fine with the kids, they do not stop comparing. Even if the parent doesn't do it, someone else is always ready to strike up a match. Yesterday, a friend pinged me for a heart to heart, where comparison was discussed.

Every child, every individual is different. I have realised that over and over again in the past year. A lot of my friends had babies almost the same time that I had mine with some weeks here and there. And no two of them had the same developmental path. To say, Aarnavi has been a classic example of baby center emails. Her milestones were bang on. Every week I used to be surprised to read emails that looked like they were custom-made for Aarnavi. Yes, in a certain manner, life was easy for me. I did not have to obsess over if this was normal or that was not normal. In no way does it mean that my child is perfect or even that the others are below par. The faster parents learn to embrace their child's every aspect, whether good or bad, the better for the child.

The reason why I start with infancy milestones is because everything starts right there. The need to compare children with one another just keeps growing and stems well into their formative years. Comparing is unfair. Comparing can hurt. And comparing can result in low self esteem / bloated ego in kids, depending on which side the kid falls. No one deserves to be compared.

I know it because  I have grown up with my share of being compared to others with my part of the balance always on the sad side. I know how it feels to be constantly measured by a yardstick and not living up to the standards. I have lived at the receiving end of not being perfect compared to others. Trying to be like someone else when you cannot be is an insurmountable task. Hence, the frustration of not being able to, despite trying hard is unimaginable.

From physical attributes like height and weight, to grades in school/ college, to finer skills like cooking. I have been, and even today am, compared. Today, it doesn't matter much to me. I do what pleases me and such comments pass by without affecting me. But it was not so earlier. Every comment was a stab. Every put down felt like being stomped upon. Relatives are meant to do it. One of my aunts has never passed an opportunity to look down upon me in some way or the other. Her child has always been superior. I hated having to visit them or having them over. I always wished we could avoid them, but never could as they are close relatives. Sadly, my parents didn't react much to it. They have also at times compared me with V, which of course I hated and made me sad. I never thought of complaining for the fear of others thinking I was all sour grapes.

Comparing makes one angry and rebellious or vain and egotistic, again depending on where s/he stands.  That anger and rebellion can go in two extreme ways. One it can give you the will and strength to prove everyone wrong and overcome all obstacles. For others, like me, will learn to give up, sometimes too easily. It is a major bog to ones self esteem. Imagine being reminded repeatedly of others' achievements and lack of yours. Unfortunately, this tendency to give up early and easily stays well into your life. (To give up giving up requires a lot lot more hard work). Till date I haven't been able to get rid of my habit. I won't even give it a try.

I can explain why it feels better to abandon the battle. Basically, it is a battle. You may have heard of the saying "Try but don't cry" or even "You shouldn't stop trying until you get there." There is also "Barking up the wrong tree." and "If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid." I believe in the latter. It is so much easier to say "No I cannot do it." than try and fail and be reminded about it, humiliated and written off forever. There is no appreciation for having tried hard despite not wanting to/ inability to do so. Making someone understand about your abilities and inabilities is not worth your time. It is best to avoid such comments and shut them out.

Each one has a different design. If one can do something well, other might just not be able to wrap it around his head. It doesn't mean one is superior and other is useless. Again, I say that comparing is unfair. It is wrong to pit one individual against another. For a child growing up constantly being compared, it causes immense stress and harsh mental effects. (I have not researched on any, but it is my experience). It stumps free and healthy growth.

Why as parents do we want to be a cause of mental abuse to kids. Why does looking down at someone else so inviting? What kind of thrill we derive out of it? I have friends who compare their kids with Aarnavi, saying she is this tall, my kid isn't, or when did she start eating solids, mine is this older than yours and still refuses to. I take the opportunity to tell them that their kid might not be ready for it, or maybe they haven't yet experienced the growth spurt and they should wait for it. I have problems with my kid too, and I discuss them when I feel the need to/ when I feel something might not be right. But instead of turning a discussion into a raving comparing debate, I try to make it more into how to deal with it session.

Comparisons creep in mind. Call it maternal instinct or basic human nature. It is there. It is important to nip it in the bud and make conscious effort not to do it. If someone else does it, telling them right in the beginning should avoid further attacks.

I do not know how what skills my child has. Whether she'll be good in studies, or she'll prefer sports over fashion. I do not know. But one thing I know for sure is I will not be comparing her with peers. I will not stunt her mental growth by telling her she is too stupid to do something. I do not think it is the way to get the best out of someone. It certainly did not work for me.

Rough Around the Edges

When my husband made Aloo baingan (stir-fried eggplants with potatoes, if you must) for the first time a couple of weeks ago, I was all praises. I just couldn't stop raving about how wonderful it tasted and how lucky was I to have him in my life, every time I went in for a helping.

Yesterday, upon request, he made it again. This time, I gulped my entire portion without a single word. Even a while after dinner, I did not say anything about how it turned out to be. Only when he openly asked me about it, did I realise that I'd given no reaction whatsoever. It was good as it was previously. What was missing this time was my excitement to acknowledge the same. 

I am like that. A lot many times than I want to be. I forget to acknowledge. I forget to speak up even though that is exactly what I am thinking. I do that so many times only to realise a tad too late. Like in this case, I was admiring the meal with every bite, but it never occurred to me that I should speak up. It may not seem such a big issue right here, but there are times when I should say something and I do not. It is preposterous, if you ask me. 

Lately, I started to reflect on why I do this and I did come up with a possible explanation to my dearth of manners to acknowledge something. I think, I am so over stuffed with a certain emotion, that they block out all my words. There is so much to react to that I do not react at all or I react later/ lesser than expected. Rather I forget some essential things; like the formality to do or say something. I am going to quote a few examples.

Whenever any of my friends come home, I (have) never, never offered them a glass of water. Even if they come walking in the hot summer sun, I have never sat them down and offered them a drink of cool water. My friends tease me that I have no manners and do not know how to treat guests. This happens only with my friends. If it is any other person, I'll be the first one to jump up and do the needful. 

I always get an earful from my mother for this. Knowing my lack of "Atithi Devo Bhava" spirit, she makes it her job to look after my friends. In fact, a close friend of mine and my mom exchange looks on how long I take to realise my blunder!

I am actually so happy to see them that I instantly launch into a charade and forget all about carrying out basic formalities. (Also in this case, I think my close friends are welcome to think of my house as theirs and help themselves to the kitchen. Of course, it doesn't always work that way!)

It was a few days before Aa's birthday that another of our close friends offered to help us in the preparations. Although they have a kid of Aa's age, they said they'd love to come over a day before and help. All I could manage to say was, it wasn't required since somebody else had already agreed. I did not thank, nor did I say I was sorry that I couldn't use their help at that time. They are very close friends and I had no intentions of hurting them or even being mean to them. But there I go, without Thanks or Sorry and just firing an explanation. I was very much humbled by their offer and my ignorance to accept that and communicate it to them hurts me even today.

Likewise I forget to congratulate, offer sympathies, be enthusiastic or wish someone. On a few occasions, I do not want to do them consciously, but these are not those. I genuinely feel happy or positive about something and I fail to execute the same in words/ reactions.

I need to work on it! 

The Sushi Bit

Some crazy weeks are behind us. There are a lot of things immigrants like us won't tell. The one thing that keeps hanging on our heads like a sword is the visa thing. Especially when it is nearing its expiry date. All the action begins then. Application for extension, mental preparedness to leave the country in case of rejection, selling out all the gathered stuff, dealing with the leasing issues...

Fortunately, as I write this, I realise that everything is sorted out. Well, at least for the time being. We have moved to another apartment. It was a difficult task considering I have this active toddler who wanted to supervise and screen every item that was to be packed. It's just a matter of time before we start packing again to haul ourselves back to India. :) 

To celebrate a little, which we hadn't in all the time that we were involved in planning and packing, we decided to eat out leisurely. My husband has been going ga-ga over this Sushi place since last year. Knowing that sushi is raw fish, I never had the courage to try it out. However yesterday, I managed to get over my reservation. 

We went to Sushi Ai

I ordered a drink called Saki-Tini, which was vodka and saki, garnished with strips of cucumber

and these were what we ordered

This was Dragon something. Although the snap doesn't look all that impressive, when it came on the table, it was covered in blue flame, looking brilliant.

and the orange one at the back was crispy rice sushi, with Tuna. The yellow one was called Mini Me. It was spicy tuna rolled over Octopus.

I apologise if that killed your appetite. I like to try out new things and octopus was on the list.

Sushi is served with soy sauce and wasabi sauce (the two to be combined). The spotlight was the wasabi sauce. It is highly pungent. There is no other taste or flavour to it. Or rather, the pungency hits so hard that you concentrate hard not to choke on it. Once you bite into a dipped sushi, it's like mini nuclear bombs go off in your mouth, climbing up the nasal cavity. It was super duper pungent.

Having said that, I have no recollection of how the Sushi itself tasted. So whether it was tuna or octopus or crispy rice, all I can gather is the small puffs of steam that left my ears.

I wanted to try some more and enjoy the experience a bit, if not for Aarnavi, who decided to be unusually fussy and irritable. Even after being fed, she was in no mood to let us eat in peace. We managed to gobble up the rest and head home. Sigh!

All in all, it was something I will never forget. Honestly, I don't know if I'll try another  sushi for a long time now. ;)

I'm the "GGTTB"

Now the tattoo is more than a year old. It is still gathering all kinds of reactions from people around us. Not many people at my husband's office knew about it since he mostly wears a full sleeved shirt. A few days back when he wasn't, the tattoo caught the eyes of his co workers. To say that they were flabbergasted, is saying the least.

It seems they were all amused that he would go through all that pain to get his wife's name inked on him. One of them (a non-Indian) also went ahead and asked what if we were to go through a divorce. To which my husband said that he wasn't thinking of since he loved me and, moreover we are happy together. It seems she still insisted in asking what if later in life we were bored of each other/ found someone else and wanted to split. My husband still maintained his reply albeit he threw in something extra to quench her thirst for an answer. He told her what I usually say to him playfully. He said that I have threatened to kill myself and return to haunt him forever. I guess that co worker is used to having a last word to every conversation, so she adds, "Try that. Let's see if she will go ahead with her plan."

I was not done laughing with this whole fiasco when he came in yesterday with another episode. It seems the word had spread and those who hadn't got a chance to speak their minds about the tattoo in discussion, did.

One said I was an expert manipulator. Who else can get her husband to tattoo her name onto his arm. They were not done pulling his leg yet. Other asked if it was done before or after marriage. On hearing the answer, they were sure that I was a dictator. It seems everyone laughed it off. Fortunately, they didn't just call me a conniving, evil predator. :)

Well, we both are still finding it funny at how people get goosebumps at the site of the tattoo. It probably would have been a safer bet to get a burning skull or a 3D spider. But a wife's name???!

One would think I am fuming with rage, but the truth is I love being the center of attraction even when I am not in the room. I, hereby, title myself the "Go-Get-The-Tattoo-Bitch" ;) ;) ;)