I would have by now done the "Motherhood Dare/ Challenge" that's doing rounds on FB, had I not stumbled upon a few blogs/ articles that were not completely in agreement of the concept.
I am sure most of you have already seen, if not actually done the so called challenge. For those who have no clue, here's the deal (copy pasted from where I was nominated)
The Motherhood dare! (I accepted)
I was nominated to post a picture that makes me happy/proud to be a mom...I'm going to tag the ladies that I think are fabulous mothers, and can rise up to the challenge of posting a pic of their own. If I've tagged you as one of the awesome moms, copy the text and paste it to your wall with a picture, and tag more moms!
Well, that's the deal. You have to RISE UP to the challenge of posting a pic with your bub. Now the blogs that I read, seemed to have a gotten a little upset over this, and empathize with those women who have suffered a miscarriage (once or maybe repeatedly); women who are trying hard to concieve; women who have lost a child. The general impression I got from those blogs was that this challenge is unfair to women who are not as fortunate as the rest who are uploading an innocent picture of themselves with their kids.
My take on the entire issue is slightly different. While I am going to be blunt about it, I, in no way intend on being hurtful or insensitive to anyone who has gone ahead to do the challenge, or to those who would love to but cannot.
The thing is, this is social media. It is a place where all the gloss and glamour of ones life are highlighted. It's all about showing everyone the good side of your life and getting a kick out of rising likes and comments. No one stops to think if their good news is going to hurt someone else. I mean, why will they, because they just want to tell everyone what they have achieved/ seen/ done/ bought..
It is not just limited to being or not being able to be a mother. I understand that I am treading on a very delicate subject here. However, there's nothing one can do but choose to ignore it if you don't like it. This is just one face. There are many people who feel dejected over others achievements/ happiness.
Consider a few examples (i think a few of these I wrote in the comment to one of the blogs)
Ex getting married while you are still wallowing in the past
A student who was denied visa checks out his friend's graduation snaps at the university he was accepted to do his Masters
A single girlfriend checks out her married best friend's snap who is also a mother of three
and that married friend checking out her single friend's photos and check ins, clubbing into the wee hours of the night, her perfect figure intact; while she is up all night feeding the infant and tending to a sick child
A woman who lost her husband feels sad looking at her sister's 10th wedding anniversary status message
Someone your age bought a mansion and you are trying hard to make ends meet
The list just goes on. What I mean to say that calling it unfair to a certain set of women is completely baseless and irrelevant. Anything and everything shared on social media ends up touching someone's raw nerve and that doesn't mean the intention was that. We have got to learn to ignore things that affect us to such a private level.
I do not wish to demean anyone or say that getting affected by such things is for weak people. I can only empathize with the pain and yearning that women must be dealing with. However, it is social media and it is reckless, for everyone. Do you think I have never wished my life was like someone else's? All the time! That's the time I tell myself that I am just seeing the bright side; what lies beyond and beneath the shadowed, concealed part is probably not what I want.
My reason to not do the Motherhood Dare is entirely different. I want to know what's the dare or challenge in putting up a happy picture of you and your kid. Whoever started this whole thing obviously did not know what "rise up to a challenge" means. A challenge or a dare is something which you do going against the current. What kind of courage is needed to put up a picture featuring you and your kid which was taken obviously when both were in a happy mood? One may contest that it is "a picture that makes me happy and proud to be a mom". Well, then don't call it a challenge or a dare because it is a blatant mistreatment of those words.
Which one is more of a challenge - take a flight of stairs to the 50th floor or take an elevator to it? Clearly the former; unless of course you are claustrophobic, in which case it would be the latter.
The "Motherhood challenge" is just asking all these women to take an elevator to the 50th floor. Who can't do that?! While I agree that motherhood, rather parenthood in itself is an enormous challenge. This little drama certainly isn't.
If we did have to dare mothers, it should be to click and upload a pic of yourself (and optionally the kids) when you are at the most vulnerable moment of motherhood and mothering. Click a snap of yours, as is, when you are having a long night with a cranky/ tantrum-ing/ sick/ refusing-to-listen-to-you kid. The day when you haven't had time to even wash your face, let alone take a bath. The day when you are so sleep deprived that every cell in your body is begging you to shut off your power unit but your kid ask for "one last bedtime story" for the 372nd time. The day when you realize you are no longer invited by your friends for an outing because you are too busy being a mom. The day when you are so angry and frustrated and exhausted that your cheeks are streaked with never ending tears. The day you yell so hard that it seems like there are mini explosions of blood cells in your brain. The day you realize that you are not the person you were. The day you feel that despite your best efforts everyone is blaming you for all the things that went wrong. The day you just want to abandon everybody and crawl back to your mother.
Last week I had one of those days. The entire household had a meltdown. Aa threw a fit because I accidentally flushed the toilet while she wanted to. No amount of cajoling, caressing helped. I couldn't humour her, I couldn't console her. She was angry and unreasonable beyond any repair. Right from the sweetest form of consoling to the worst form of yelling did not help. it wasn't long before the younger one started bawling at the commotion. While she did compose after a while, the entire cloud of anger and glum proceeded throughout the day and well into the evening. That day she tested our patience. Even the husband, who is usually the one who takes everything coolly just lost it.
I am not too proud of what happened that day. At the back of my mind I was wondering what would I answer if someone called the 911.
Things weren't just this easy. The younger one was suffering from upper respiratory infection and was coughing. He was unusually cranky too. And the royal icing on the cake was the younger one's projectile vomit ending up all over my upper half. Did I say there was a cherry on the icing too? After having him cleaned and changed, we put the sleepy kid down with his ritualistic bottle of milk, only to vomit again and soil not just the bed and sheet, but also his entire right side, including the hair.
As I cried tears of exhaustion, anger and failure, I thought of how much courage it would take me to document my day into a picture and post it on Facebook saying "Motherhood Challenge Accepted". And that would say that despite such days I am proud/ happy to be a mother.
Showing posts with label Purely Purnima. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Purely Purnima. Show all posts
Monday, 2 May 2016
Tuesday, 17 June 2014
Day 17 :: Driving Force
I recently started driving a four wheeler after a big gap of four years. While now I find it very liberating and exhilarating, the prospect of having to step onto the road again was not that pleasing. Yes, over the four years, I had lost my confidence to battle it out on the road.
Hence when we decided to buy a car, husband suggested that we go for a test drive. He doesn't know how to handle Indian cars. Thus it was me who had to do the test drive. To say that I was scared to the core would be an understatement. I shivered at the thought of having to drive. I knew I no longer had it in me to face the cruel traffic and the crazy no rule policy in Pune. I prayed, wished and hoped that the test drive would somehow be postponed. Cutting the long story short, I made it through the test drive without hurting the inmates or anyone on the road!
As soon as we bought the car, and I started driving, the lost confidence started creeping back in me slowly. I am immensely loving the feeling. It truly is an adrenaline rush to drive on a roadful of traffic, because this is where one's skills are tested.
Otherwise, not much has changed. It is the same mindless driving... as long as you don't bang into anything or anyone, you are a good driver. The rules... oh wait, what rules? Green means go and red means go too. In fact red means go faster. The morons are still there. The pests (read two wheelers) are increasing. The careful drivers are still there. And then there are male drivers with ego so large! The last category that I speak of give dirty looks to women drivers, trouble them while overtaking, ogle shamelessly, and do not yield even if it is our right of the way.
There was a time when I used to get irritated and angry even with these species. Not anymore. I enjoy their stupid sense of superiority and take pleasures in popping their bloated egos when I get a chance.
It's fun and it's not too. In a sense it is a big headache to continuously keep an alert eye and drive without banging or getting banged on. In another way it is pleasurable to have freedom of transport.
For the moment I am enjoying being the sole driver of our car. But I am sure it is a matter of a few more days before I get bored of doing the chauffeur duties and hand over the keys to my husband.
Hence when we decided to buy a car, husband suggested that we go for a test drive. He doesn't know how to handle Indian cars. Thus it was me who had to do the test drive. To say that I was scared to the core would be an understatement. I shivered at the thought of having to drive. I knew I no longer had it in me to face the cruel traffic and the crazy no rule policy in Pune. I prayed, wished and hoped that the test drive would somehow be postponed. Cutting the long story short, I made it through the test drive without hurting the inmates or anyone on the road!
As soon as we bought the car, and I started driving, the lost confidence started creeping back in me slowly. I am immensely loving the feeling. It truly is an adrenaline rush to drive on a roadful of traffic, because this is where one's skills are tested.
Otherwise, not much has changed. It is the same mindless driving... as long as you don't bang into anything or anyone, you are a good driver. The rules... oh wait, what rules? Green means go and red means go too. In fact red means go faster. The morons are still there. The pests (read two wheelers) are increasing. The careful drivers are still there. And then there are male drivers with ego so large! The last category that I speak of give dirty looks to women drivers, trouble them while overtaking, ogle shamelessly, and do not yield even if it is our right of the way.
There was a time when I used to get irritated and angry even with these species. Not anymore. I enjoy their stupid sense of superiority and take pleasures in popping their bloated egos when I get a chance.
It's fun and it's not too. In a sense it is a big headache to continuously keep an alert eye and drive without banging or getting banged on. In another way it is pleasurable to have freedom of transport.
For the moment I am enjoying being the sole driver of our car. But I am sure it is a matter of a few more days before I get bored of doing the chauffeur duties and hand over the keys to my husband.
Saturday, 14 June 2014
Day 14 :: It's time we teach our daughters to put themselves first
Right from childhood, a girl child especially, is given a set of instructions; those which are never to be forgotten in life. Things like how to sit properly to how to cook to find the road to your man's heart. The do's and don'ts end up defining a girl's life. Did I say defining? No, it's more like dictating. As little minds, we gulp down these bitter values without further questioning.
As and how we grow up and see more and more of life, we experience these values being tested time and again. You often find yourself at crossroads when making a choice between what is right and what was taught.
A girl is taught to say yes to everything. No need to apply your mind, just say a yes. Even if it is against your wishes/ principles, doesn't matter. What matters is you say a yes, and make the other person happy. In short, never say no, even if it causes you displeasure/ pain/ hurt. You are taught to put the other person as a priority. Be it your parents, husband, children, in laws - you are at their mercy. As long as you nod your head to their wishes and demands, you are accepted. Try saying a firm NO, and you are blasphemous, insulting, disrespectful, and uncouth. You have no patience, intolerant, stubborn, have a loathesome mind, and disgusting even.
What I am trying to say here is, girls are expected to be the softer version of the human species. God forbid, if they are not, they are often asked, told, forced to compromise on their basic nature and qualities. Quoting my own example, I get angry soon, have a little less patience than the "ideal level", and sometimes, I don't see reason. These vices of mine have been rearing it's ugly head since childhood. I have been told repeatedly that I should bottle them because the world is not such a kind place to accept a woman who is impatient and unreasonable!
I would if I could. But sadly, it is my nature and not much can be done to change it. Rather, I don't want to change it. Not now. And certainly not for the sake of people who cannot take me as I am.
How many us have really followed our heart? We have, for more than once, bandaged our wishes and sealed them tight in a box, never to be opened again. Our minds dare to visit them, but never brought on our lips. Is it wrong to wish for something and try to achieve it? What will your in laws say? or your husband will certainly not approve of that. These sentences have murdered many dreams that were not even dreamt of properly!
The best quality a girl could have is to give in. The more easily she does it, the better. Obviously it speaks volumes about your upbringing. Under the pretext of "respecting elders" and being "cultured" one has to constantly shush the inner voice that is screaming within you. It continues to sting and hurt but all you do is choose to keep quiet because you know what humongous storm transpires later.
I remember my maternal aut telling me about the "life lesson" my grandma gave to her. It was about our humble tongue, who being soft, is vulnerable to being bitten by 32 teeth. Yet, the tongue takes care that she doesn't. A girl, especially after marriage, is expected to be like that tongue. Always being careful of her words and actions. Always soft, kind and taking care that she doesn't anger anyone?
I have a different interpretation of the same example. I think the tongue is a very clever thing. Even amidst 32 teeth, she says what she wants to say, nimbly, fearlessly and yet takes care that not one of those vicious teeth hurt her. Why can't we be like her then?
It's time to teach our daughters that their first priority are themselves. It's time to tell them that saying NO when you mean it is not wrong. Doing what your heart tells to do or say is not looked down upon, as long as you weigh what you want to say. It's time to tell them that it is ok to make mistakes, because they are humans. It's time to teach them to protect themselves from getting hurt time and again for not speaking their minds. It's time to say You needn't be sorry for something that happened which was out of your control. It's time to make them understand that when you don't believe in something and communicate the same, you are not disrespecting anyone but being your own independent self!
I have a daughter and I am making this my mission to tell her that she is just as important as is the rest of the world.
As and how we grow up and see more and more of life, we experience these values being tested time and again. You often find yourself at crossroads when making a choice between what is right and what was taught.
A girl is taught to say yes to everything. No need to apply your mind, just say a yes. Even if it is against your wishes/ principles, doesn't matter. What matters is you say a yes, and make the other person happy. In short, never say no, even if it causes you displeasure/ pain/ hurt. You are taught to put the other person as a priority. Be it your parents, husband, children, in laws - you are at their mercy. As long as you nod your head to their wishes and demands, you are accepted. Try saying a firm NO, and you are blasphemous, insulting, disrespectful, and uncouth. You have no patience, intolerant, stubborn, have a loathesome mind, and disgusting even.
What I am trying to say here is, girls are expected to be the softer version of the human species. God forbid, if they are not, they are often asked, told, forced to compromise on their basic nature and qualities. Quoting my own example, I get angry soon, have a little less patience than the "ideal level", and sometimes, I don't see reason. These vices of mine have been rearing it's ugly head since childhood. I have been told repeatedly that I should bottle them because the world is not such a kind place to accept a woman who is impatient and unreasonable!
I would if I could. But sadly, it is my nature and not much can be done to change it. Rather, I don't want to change it. Not now. And certainly not for the sake of people who cannot take me as I am.
How many us have really followed our heart? We have, for more than once, bandaged our wishes and sealed them tight in a box, never to be opened again. Our minds dare to visit them, but never brought on our lips. Is it wrong to wish for something and try to achieve it? What will your in laws say? or your husband will certainly not approve of that. These sentences have murdered many dreams that were not even dreamt of properly!
The best quality a girl could have is to give in. The more easily she does it, the better. Obviously it speaks volumes about your upbringing. Under the pretext of "respecting elders" and being "cultured" one has to constantly shush the inner voice that is screaming within you. It continues to sting and hurt but all you do is choose to keep quiet because you know what humongous storm transpires later.
I remember my maternal aut telling me about the "life lesson" my grandma gave to her. It was about our humble tongue, who being soft, is vulnerable to being bitten by 32 teeth. Yet, the tongue takes care that she doesn't. A girl, especially after marriage, is expected to be like that tongue. Always being careful of her words and actions. Always soft, kind and taking care that she doesn't anger anyone?
I have a different interpretation of the same example. I think the tongue is a very clever thing. Even amidst 32 teeth, she says what she wants to say, nimbly, fearlessly and yet takes care that not one of those vicious teeth hurt her. Why can't we be like her then?
It's time to teach our daughters that their first priority are themselves. It's time to tell them that saying NO when you mean it is not wrong. Doing what your heart tells to do or say is not looked down upon, as long as you weigh what you want to say. It's time to tell them that it is ok to make mistakes, because they are humans. It's time to teach them to protect themselves from getting hurt time and again for not speaking their minds. It's time to say You needn't be sorry for something that happened which was out of your control. It's time to make them understand that when you don't believe in something and communicate the same, you are not disrespecting anyone but being your own independent self!
I have a daughter and I am making this my mission to tell her that she is just as important as is the rest of the world.
Friday, 13 June 2014
Day 13 :: I need a vacation already!
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I am so looking forward to this weekend. This week just stretched endlessly. By Tuesday I wanted to take a break already! I wonder how mothers and grandmothers did it all these years, without once making us feel like we were a burden to them! Phew!
Thursday, 12 June 2014
Day 12 :: Maid it!
I need my house clean. Need, not just want. Not necessarily tidy and neat every time, but clean, always! The habit of living in a clean - and I mean real, sparkly, spic and span type of clean - stems right from childhood. My parents, both of them are sticklers for cleanliness and neatness. Honestly, I hated it then. Always wondered why it was necessary that the house be so ironed! Only after I had my own house, did I understand what it meant for me.
Recently I hired a maid for the daily sweeping-mopping. Not that I was happy with the prospect, but then, considering I had other commitments to honour, I just couldn't afford to lose time in doing the daily chore. Let me mention here that in all my growing years, mom had never hired a maid. So I hardly have the knack, or the patience even to handle one. Coming back to my new employee, S. S was supposed to start her duty from the 15th of April. Mutually consented date. A few days before the D day, she informed me that she had some sort of a vrat, and hence would start at a later date. I agreed. After all, what could I do.
When the first day dawned, I made my stance clear, stating how clean I expect the house. A weekly day to wash the balcony was also decided upon. I also stressed that I don't like to nag, so she would get the freedom to do her job as long as she did it properly and sincerely. So far so good.
The next day she forgot to sweep the balcony. And the day after that too. The third day I reminded her, and she promptly cleaned it without a word. Fourth day, she informed me that she was gonna remain absent for 2 days. Yes, I know, already! I managed to give a peaceful approval. In the 15 remaining days of April, she bunked about 6 days, but by informing me. That way I couldn't slice her salary. However, I decided to play tough and point out that if this happened often, I am going to have to cut her pay.
That wasn't all. The balcony, remember? Well, she forgot to sweep it every single day. But didn't forget to silently get angry at how she was taking me for a ride. Oh yes, call me mighty stupid, but I cannot tell beyond point. I don't like to keep nagging. I believe every person should do his job with integrity without having to be told every now and then. The day I reminded, she would do it.
Work wise also I was just not satisfied. Obviously I didn't have any impossible expectations of her cleaning every nook and cranny and under the table and bed stuff. I know that's all a fairy tale, or one has had to have done some punya ka kaam in previous lives to get a bai who does all that! S completed the entire set of work within 7 minutes. She would shift the dust and dirt from one place to another conspicuous place. I remember how once there was one chaii stain on the kitchen floor and how it remained there for days, despite her mopping over it every single day. I would cringe at her work, but kept mum that I had someone do the work for me.
The whole of the above paragraph happened in the first 9 days of May. Because after that-yes, you guessed it right- she was going for a vacation! for full 22 days! And surprise, she was doing me a favour, by giving me a replacement bai.
By now I was fed up and frustrated of living in a dirty home. I had had enough. I told the replacement bai that I wouldn't be needing their services any more.
Since the day I have had to maid-it, I am at peace. Yes I have to wake up early in the morning than I would like to. But as compared to having a bai, early mornings seem worth it!
You might argue why I cannot employ another one, or that why I cannot be stern with them. I just cannot. I am sorry, but I cannot be a nag. And if I have the time to nag around, I might as well do it myself. I don't like to engage in everyday verbal battle. I find it an interference in my time, to give orders , or to remind, or to correct. Not to mention the forever waiting for them to turn up at the right time.
Well, for now I am gloating in my clean house that remains so till I clean it again the next morning.
Recently I hired a maid for the daily sweeping-mopping. Not that I was happy with the prospect, but then, considering I had other commitments to honour, I just couldn't afford to lose time in doing the daily chore. Let me mention here that in all my growing years, mom had never hired a maid. So I hardly have the knack, or the patience even to handle one. Coming back to my new employee, S. S was supposed to start her duty from the 15th of April. Mutually consented date. A few days before the D day, she informed me that she had some sort of a vrat, and hence would start at a later date. I agreed. After all, what could I do.
When the first day dawned, I made my stance clear, stating how clean I expect the house. A weekly day to wash the balcony was also decided upon. I also stressed that I don't like to nag, so she would get the freedom to do her job as long as she did it properly and sincerely. So far so good.
The next day she forgot to sweep the balcony. And the day after that too. The third day I reminded her, and she promptly cleaned it without a word. Fourth day, she informed me that she was gonna remain absent for 2 days. Yes, I know, already! I managed to give a peaceful approval. In the 15 remaining days of April, she bunked about 6 days, but by informing me. That way I couldn't slice her salary. However, I decided to play tough and point out that if this happened often, I am going to have to cut her pay.
That wasn't all. The balcony, remember? Well, she forgot to sweep it every single day. But didn't forget to silently get angry at how she was taking me for a ride. Oh yes, call me mighty stupid, but I cannot tell beyond point. I don't like to keep nagging. I believe every person should do his job with integrity without having to be told every now and then. The day I reminded, she would do it.
Work wise also I was just not satisfied. Obviously I didn't have any impossible expectations of her cleaning every nook and cranny and under the table and bed stuff. I know that's all a fairy tale, or one has had to have done some punya ka kaam in previous lives to get a bai who does all that! S completed the entire set of work within 7 minutes. She would shift the dust and dirt from one place to another conspicuous place. I remember how once there was one chaii stain on the kitchen floor and how it remained there for days, despite her mopping over it every single day. I would cringe at her work, but kept mum that I had someone do the work for me.
The whole of the above paragraph happened in the first 9 days of May. Because after that-yes, you guessed it right- she was going for a vacation! for full 22 days! And surprise, she was doing me a favour, by giving me a replacement bai.
By now I was fed up and frustrated of living in a dirty home. I had had enough. I told the replacement bai that I wouldn't be needing their services any more.
Since the day I have had to maid-it, I am at peace. Yes I have to wake up early in the morning than I would like to. But as compared to having a bai, early mornings seem worth it!
You might argue why I cannot employ another one, or that why I cannot be stern with them. I just cannot. I am sorry, but I cannot be a nag. And if I have the time to nag around, I might as well do it myself. I don't like to engage in everyday verbal battle. I find it an interference in my time, to give orders , or to remind, or to correct. Not to mention the forever waiting for them to turn up at the right time.
Well, for now I am gloating in my clean house that remains so till I clean it again the next morning.
Monday, 9 June 2014
Day 9 :: Airport Journey
Last year I travelled from Chicago to Mumbai with Aarnavi; who was then 1.5 yrs old; all alone. Now, travelling from US to India in itself is a torturous part, and with a toddler by your side, the torture is almost doubled.
I sighed a relief when we touched down. I was in one piece, my mental state, that is! The immigration officer too was kind and smiled and enquired about the tough journey I had had. I smiled at the change that had undergone with the immigration officers who usually were rude and demeaning to the passengers.
I almost cried tears of happiness when an 'airport assistant' approached me voluntarily to assist me with my baggage and stuff. Yes, those 3-4 garangutan bags each weighing 24 kgs! The assistant waited patiently for almost an hour while I was busy running behind my kid, all the while lugging a 14kg bag on my broken back! As soon as my bags arrived, I only had to point it out to him and he hauled them onto the trolley. Relief is such a small word o describe what I felt!
Alas! the so called relief died down in a matter of few minutes. For the customs scanning, I had to take off my 14 kg bag too, in which I had brought my jewellery. Now jewellery doesn't mean kilos of them. They were my mangalsutra, dharemani(another GSB wedding symbol) and one swarovski chain and earrings. The lady scanning the bag, who seemed perinially disgusted with phoren reetaarns, decided to take up the khunnas on me - the bechaari, worn out woman with a child, who is ready to drop dead at one single authoritative, provocative statement from Her Highness! So this is how the conversation went , all in marathi though
Her (in a disgusted, rude tone) : Medem, you have jewellery in your bag?
Me (ignoring the disgust) : Yes
Her : Show me the bill for the same or pay the custom.
Me (now disgusted and angry) : Pay custom for what? It is my personal jewellery and not even kilos of it that you demand that I pay the custom duty!
Her : (doubling the rude quotient): What is with you US return people?? First you buy so much jewellery, don't keep the billand then we have to face this! Don't you know it is the rule?
Me : (more frustrated now than angry) Rule? Which rule are you talking about? I have travelled to US and back before with the same amount of jewellery, and not once have I been told to show the bill or pay the duty! It is my wedding jewellery. The wedding took place 3 yrs back and you expect me to travel around with its bill? If it is a rule nobody sent me any notice to my US residence that I should know of it.
Her : Medem, it is a rule!
Me : Fine it might be a rule but it needs to be communicated. I have been away from India the whole of previous year and if some rules change here how am I supposed to know and how can you hold me guilty for the same? Let's go to the chief customs officer and if he can clarify I shall gladly pay.
Her : You are holding up the line. You can go this time.
After she gave me her 'permission' to leave, I gather my stuff with the assistant wand walked away. The assistant in turn tells me, this is the routine. They will trouble the passengers for no reason. Saying this he stopped. And so did I and asked him the reason. He says, in full khoofiya style, "Ma'am, paisa idhar hi do."
I didn't get him at first. Then it dawned on me that he was asking me for his 'bakshis'. I pulled out Rs. 200 out of the 500 that I was carrying and handed it out to him.
And he said, "Kya madam, dollar main dene ka tha na." I was baffled at his audacity! I mean seriously! I stared at him like I had seen an alien land before me. I just couldn't say anything. I shook my head and walked out of the gate.
People have wrong perceptions about those returning from the US, rather from any foriegn country. Not everyone who comes back from there is a millionaire. I surely wasn't one! And those 3-4 enormous bags of 24 kgs each? They don't necessarily carry any hotshot electronics or expensive cameras or exotic chocolates or perfumes, or battery operated toys that forever eludes our country mercilessly, unless of course, demanded by relatives and friends! They are clothes, shoes, utensils, documents and other routine life things that one didn't have the heart to throw away in the garbage bin. There might be some boring Ferrero Rochers and Hersheys that, though easily available in India, people still want those staying abroad to bring for them.
I don't know why it gives them kicks to be rude to passengers. One need not be friendly, but is a little courtesy too much to ask for? You, as a passenger probably would not take up a fight either because you are expended after a long journey, or because there is an impending journey before which you don't want to spoil your mood.
I sighed a relief when we touched down. I was in one piece, my mental state, that is! The immigration officer too was kind and smiled and enquired about the tough journey I had had. I smiled at the change that had undergone with the immigration officers who usually were rude and demeaning to the passengers.
I almost cried tears of happiness when an 'airport assistant' approached me voluntarily to assist me with my baggage and stuff. Yes, those 3-4 garangutan bags each weighing 24 kgs! The assistant waited patiently for almost an hour while I was busy running behind my kid, all the while lugging a 14kg bag on my broken back! As soon as my bags arrived, I only had to point it out to him and he hauled them onto the trolley. Relief is such a small word o describe what I felt!
Alas! the so called relief died down in a matter of few minutes. For the customs scanning, I had to take off my 14 kg bag too, in which I had brought my jewellery. Now jewellery doesn't mean kilos of them. They were my mangalsutra, dharemani(another GSB wedding symbol) and one swarovski chain and earrings. The lady scanning the bag, who seemed perinially disgusted with phoren reetaarns, decided to take up the khunnas on me - the bechaari, worn out woman with a child, who is ready to drop dead at one single authoritative, provocative statement from Her Highness! So this is how the conversation went , all in marathi though
Her (in a disgusted, rude tone) : Medem, you have jewellery in your bag?
Me (ignoring the disgust) : Yes
Her : Show me the bill for the same or pay the custom.
Me (now disgusted and angry) : Pay custom for what? It is my personal jewellery and not even kilos of it that you demand that I pay the custom duty!
Her : (doubling the rude quotient): What is with you US return people?? First you buy so much jewellery, don't keep the billand then we have to face this! Don't you know it is the rule?
Me : (more frustrated now than angry) Rule? Which rule are you talking about? I have travelled to US and back before with the same amount of jewellery, and not once have I been told to show the bill or pay the duty! It is my wedding jewellery. The wedding took place 3 yrs back and you expect me to travel around with its bill? If it is a rule nobody sent me any notice to my US residence that I should know of it.
Her : Medem, it is a rule!
Me : Fine it might be a rule but it needs to be communicated. I have been away from India the whole of previous year and if some rules change here how am I supposed to know and how can you hold me guilty for the same? Let's go to the chief customs officer and if he can clarify I shall gladly pay.
Her : You are holding up the line. You can go this time.
After she gave me her 'permission' to leave, I gather my stuff with the assistant wand walked away. The assistant in turn tells me, this is the routine. They will trouble the passengers for no reason. Saying this he stopped. And so did I and asked him the reason. He says, in full khoofiya style, "Ma'am, paisa idhar hi do."
I didn't get him at first. Then it dawned on me that he was asking me for his 'bakshis'. I pulled out Rs. 200 out of the 500 that I was carrying and handed it out to him.
And he said, "Kya madam, dollar main dene ka tha na." I was baffled at his audacity! I mean seriously! I stared at him like I had seen an alien land before me. I just couldn't say anything. I shook my head and walked out of the gate.
People have wrong perceptions about those returning from the US, rather from any foriegn country. Not everyone who comes back from there is a millionaire. I surely wasn't one! And those 3-4 enormous bags of 24 kgs each? They don't necessarily carry any hotshot electronics or expensive cameras or exotic chocolates or perfumes, or battery operated toys that forever eludes our country mercilessly, unless of course, demanded by relatives and friends! They are clothes, shoes, utensils, documents and other routine life things that one didn't have the heart to throw away in the garbage bin. There might be some boring Ferrero Rochers and Hersheys that, though easily available in India, people still want those staying abroad to bring for them.
I don't know why it gives them kicks to be rude to passengers. One need not be friendly, but is a little courtesy too much to ask for? You, as a passenger probably would not take up a fight either because you are expended after a long journey, or because there is an impending journey before which you don't want to spoil your mood.
Friday, 6 June 2014
Day 6 :: Left is not right
We were pleasantly surprised when V's first born turned out to be left handed. Both parents being right handed, we were wondering how D turned out a lefty. We later learned that one of my cousin and a niece are lefties too.
Aarnavi is also lefty. Her gross and fine motor skills hinted that she would turn out one, but they say kids are ambidextrous till they turn two. She is well after 2 now and is definitely a lefty. Hardcore one at that. She even eats with her left hand. Now that she has turned out one of the 'minority' population, she is met with surprise, shock, excitement, and I am sure some people have even cringed.
I had not realised this until now. But left handed people do have to face some disgusting truths living among the right handed ones. First and foremost, people think they are born abnormal. They are perceived to be born with deformity, one that needs to be 'corrected' at the right age.
This particular incident took place when I was carrying Aarnavi. The neighbours at my laws place have a daughter who is, (I now think, was) left handed. When the topic arose, her mother told me they are steering her from being wrong handed to right handed. And how? By hitting her left hand when she used for eating/ shaking hands etc. By discouraging her and blaming her for using her dominant hand. I was dumbfound! Obviously no child deserves that. I tried to explain whatever little knowledge I had had on the subject. And I am sure it fell on deaf ears. They spoke as if some spirit had resided in their daughter! Never again did I have the courage to ask.
A friend shared this link and although it is funny, it does speak about the most cliched problems that lefties face. Oh yes, I hated sitting next to a lefty at exams or even in class for there would be elbow battles unless we swapped places! Aarnavi's gonna be at the receiving end, I know.
Recently when I was at my hometown, we got to visit temples. And everywhere, Aarnavi was extending her left hand for the prasad. I wonder who says right is superior to left?! For her, and for every lefty, that is the dominant hand and thereby the superiority.
They would do the typical clicking of their tongues and make her extend her right hand. When I mentioned that she is left handed, they said "but yes, prasad is to be taken by the right hand only." I wanted to fight but realising the futility of it all, kept mum.
I met the lefty-hating neighbours too. And they were shocked to learn that Aarnavi was one among those possessed ... :D I did not encourage any further talks on the matter, rather mentioned quite haughtily that left handed people are far more intelligent than right handed ones. :P ;)
I encourage Aarnavi to use her hand as she wishes. I did not try to avert her from eating out of her left hand. Yes, I am wondering how I would teach her to write from my right and her left. I am wondering if she wants to crochet, or learn guitar, or violin, how will she manage. But then I think of thousands of other lefties who have made it. I am confident that she will too!
Aarnavi is also lefty. Her gross and fine motor skills hinted that she would turn out one, but they say kids are ambidextrous till they turn two. She is well after 2 now and is definitely a lefty. Hardcore one at that. She even eats with her left hand. Now that she has turned out one of the 'minority' population, she is met with surprise, shock, excitement, and I am sure some people have even cringed.
I had not realised this until now. But left handed people do have to face some disgusting truths living among the right handed ones. First and foremost, people think they are born abnormal. They are perceived to be born with deformity, one that needs to be 'corrected' at the right age.
This particular incident took place when I was carrying Aarnavi. The neighbours at my laws place have a daughter who is, (I now think, was) left handed. When the topic arose, her mother told me they are steering her from being wrong handed to right handed. And how? By hitting her left hand when she used for eating/ shaking hands etc. By discouraging her and blaming her for using her dominant hand. I was dumbfound! Obviously no child deserves that. I tried to explain whatever little knowledge I had had on the subject. And I am sure it fell on deaf ears. They spoke as if some spirit had resided in their daughter! Never again did I have the courage to ask.
A friend shared this link and although it is funny, it does speak about the most cliched problems that lefties face. Oh yes, I hated sitting next to a lefty at exams or even in class for there would be elbow battles unless we swapped places! Aarnavi's gonna be at the receiving end, I know.
Recently when I was at my hometown, we got to visit temples. And everywhere, Aarnavi was extending her left hand for the prasad. I wonder who says right is superior to left?! For her, and for every lefty, that is the dominant hand and thereby the superiority.
They would do the typical clicking of their tongues and make her extend her right hand. When I mentioned that she is left handed, they said "but yes, prasad is to be taken by the right hand only." I wanted to fight but realising the futility of it all, kept mum.
I met the lefty-hating neighbours too. And they were shocked to learn that Aarnavi was one among those possessed ... :D I did not encourage any further talks on the matter, rather mentioned quite haughtily that left handed people are far more intelligent than right handed ones. :P ;)
I encourage Aarnavi to use her hand as she wishes. I did not try to avert her from eating out of her left hand. Yes, I am wondering how I would teach her to write from my right and her left. I am wondering if she wants to crochet, or learn guitar, or violin, how will she manage. But then I think of thousands of other lefties who have made it. I am confident that she will too!
Monday, 2 June 2014
Day 2 :: Initial Jitters
And today I was called to Aarnavi's school to collect these
Oh yes, it is time for Aarnavi to start school. Parents who have gone through this stage will certainly understand my state of mind. I am excited, nervous and above all, frightened. I do not want to be scared but I am. Is it a part of being a parent? And I do not know as to particularly what I am scared of. I guess this fear stems from the insecurity that I have to leave my child at the hands of strangers, albeit for a few hours.
The school upholds a very good reputation among the parents, who have sworn that Euro Kids has been one of the best experiences in terms of child development. Hence I know for sure that my child is in good hands. The school is close by too.
It is a new chapter in her life and ours too. Aarnavi is over the moon seeing her school stuff and wants to hold her books and bag. I am excited too but for this frivolous fear.
There are some 12-15 more days for her first day. So wish me luck till then. My lill girl's gonna grow up!
Friday, 3 January 2014
A year of learning and growing
2013 has been an overwhelming year for me. With not as many ups as the downs. There is one thing about being in the downward curve. It is a great teacher. It teaches you things that you could have never otherwise learnt. It brings about changes - and those changes are for the better.
The whole of previous year has been full of disappointments. People have let us down; friends have turned selfish; situations took a u turn. No matter how much efforts we took, how many plans we laid down (for the immediate future, which was 99% to have happened) all fell flat on the face. 2013, we felt like a punching bag - punched every time in the gut. Even before we could gather our senses, there was another blow to us.
I am scared of uncertainty. I find peace in knowing what would or could happen. Probably that is why I ask Kiran a hundred times a day, "What time are you coming back?" Sounds maniacal, but that's me. The "don't know" factor freaks me out. Knowing the deal, preparing for the same and walking step by step on that plan, keeps me sane. I kind of like to be ahead of times and situations. Nothing disturbs me more than a change. Not that I am averse to changes. However the changes that suddenly came our way were mind boggling. We kept wondering what hit us that badly! It sounds exaggerated even to my own ears but there were enough twists that numbed us to the core.
Earlier turns of events (for better or worse) would aggravate me. It would disturb me to the extent that my whole day (and sometimes a whole week) would go sulking. These blows have hardened me somewhat. I have developed a thicker skin. I have learnt to shrug it off and stay indifferent yet connected. I am learning to find a solution rather than stare at the problem till my eyes burn.
From people point of view too, I am learning to be resilient. It is a work in progress to be lenient towards people. It is hard to let go, hard to forgive. I am getting there albeit very slowly. This in no way means I am to be taken for granted. I believe in giving people a benefit of doubt. That has helped me in attaining that peace of mind. Earlier I obsessed at the wrongs that people in name of friends, did to me. Now I submit it all to Karma. I allow them to get away with it because I believe that everybody's action has some reason behind it. Now even if that reason might not sound right to me, it was for them and hence they do what they do.
I used to be judgemental. I am again trying to chage that. Of course I cannot altogether stop forming opinions, but at least I can shut my mouth and keep them to myself. I have been on the other side and know how it feels to be judged for my actions and decisions, when others have no understanding of the situation. I know how it feels to listen to unsolicited advice when I know it is going to be a big wrong step if I followed. I believe in suggestions and not stubborn discourses. I believe in constructive criticism. It give the person a new perspective. Criticising for the sake of it or to feel superior brings in a lot of bitterness.
I didn't wait until the new year to form resolutions. This was an evolution that took time and experience. I did not force it upon me - it was forced by destiny.
I feel like I have grown up in many ways that I didn't in earlier years. It's like finding the pulse in my life. It's discovering myself in new light.
The whole of previous year has been full of disappointments. People have let us down; friends have turned selfish; situations took a u turn. No matter how much efforts we took, how many plans we laid down (for the immediate future, which was 99% to have happened) all fell flat on the face. 2013, we felt like a punching bag - punched every time in the gut. Even before we could gather our senses, there was another blow to us.
I am scared of uncertainty. I find peace in knowing what would or could happen. Probably that is why I ask Kiran a hundred times a day, "What time are you coming back?" Sounds maniacal, but that's me. The "don't know" factor freaks me out. Knowing the deal, preparing for the same and walking step by step on that plan, keeps me sane. I kind of like to be ahead of times and situations. Nothing disturbs me more than a change. Not that I am averse to changes. However the changes that suddenly came our way were mind boggling. We kept wondering what hit us that badly! It sounds exaggerated even to my own ears but there were enough twists that numbed us to the core.
Earlier turns of events (for better or worse) would aggravate me. It would disturb me to the extent that my whole day (and sometimes a whole week) would go sulking. These blows have hardened me somewhat. I have developed a thicker skin. I have learnt to shrug it off and stay indifferent yet connected. I am learning to find a solution rather than stare at the problem till my eyes burn.
From people point of view too, I am learning to be resilient. It is a work in progress to be lenient towards people. It is hard to let go, hard to forgive. I am getting there albeit very slowly. This in no way means I am to be taken for granted. I believe in giving people a benefit of doubt. That has helped me in attaining that peace of mind. Earlier I obsessed at the wrongs that people in name of friends, did to me. Now I submit it all to Karma. I allow them to get away with it because I believe that everybody's action has some reason behind it. Now even if that reason might not sound right to me, it was for them and hence they do what they do.
I used to be judgemental. I am again trying to chage that. Of course I cannot altogether stop forming opinions, but at least I can shut my mouth and keep them to myself. I have been on the other side and know how it feels to be judged for my actions and decisions, when others have no understanding of the situation. I know how it feels to listen to unsolicited advice when I know it is going to be a big wrong step if I followed. I believe in suggestions and not stubborn discourses. I believe in constructive criticism. It give the person a new perspective. Criticising for the sake of it or to feel superior brings in a lot of bitterness.
I didn't wait until the new year to form resolutions. This was an evolution that took time and experience. I did not force it upon me - it was forced by destiny.
I feel like I have grown up in many ways that I didn't in earlier years. It's like finding the pulse in my life. It's discovering myself in new light.
Sunday, 1 December 2013
To have or not to have
a baby part II is the biggest question that looms over new parents. Much like a sword hovering over; it keeps haunting day in day out. Not to mention parents and relatives who, albeit subtly, won't leave a chance to "remind" you (in case you are forgetting!).
What indeed are you supposed to do? When you are torn in between practicality of inflation laced life and life long guilt of not providing a sibling to your kid; decision making becomes tough.
I am at the threshold of all this. Now that Aarnavi is almost 2, the question looks at me in the face.
Since whenever I thought of my family life, I have always wanted two kids - one of each gender. Probably because that was how we were - myself and V. Kiran, on the other hand, was gonna be happy with just one. This was the time before Aarnavi was born, when we did "the talks" about kids. The whole of first year we have debated on and off - 1 v/s 2. The husband was worried about finances and I couldn't imagine that my still-to-be-conceived-baby would not have a sibling. I tried making him see the advantages of having a sibling. After all, he has a baby sister too who he loves to pieces.
'I cannot imagine my life without V. Can you imagine your childhood without N?' I would ask him continually. Even then he maintained his stand, while reminding me that what I am talking about is still a long way to go. There would be times when he would just give in to my wishful whining. (I guess it was to make me stop discussing the said topic)
After Aarnavi's arrival, opinions took a firmer shape. He was dead against having another baby. Seeing me suffer through the pains and miseries of pregnancy (which was perhaps ones of the easiest ones that women have) and post-partum, he wouldn't hear a word from me. And coming to me, even with all that I went through, I couldn't accept what he said. But then I decided it was best not to bring it up.
As the months passed, the pain, discomfort and even memories of them started to fade away. Aarnavi's growing up was a magical time. She was an ideal baby of sorts. Her milestones were bang on. Her schedule was fixed. She was a happy baby who despite turning our world upside down, kept us hooked. This time, in fact, acted as a catalyst for Kiran to change his mind. Since we were in the US with no help from parents or in laws; he go to be hands-on father. His involvement with Aarnavi made him rethink the decision. The amount of satisfaction he felt in seeing her grow was apparent. He realised it wasn't enough. And he finally accepted that there would indeed be a baby 2 for us.
Many parents are happy with their first born. They have their reasons, and I believe they are justified. Each one knows what they can handle and what they cannot. It is true that in today's world, having two children is nothing short of a luxury. It isn't just "giving a playmate". As parents we are responsible for their upbringing - which means a lot of money. To make two ends meet is not an easy task.
And it isn't just money, there are few other grave things too. Like when I spoke to some of my friends on whether they would go for a second baby, many said they couldn't imagine going through those 9 months again. Others say they are oscillating between the two options. Still others are yet to recover from the shock of motherhood. As expected, these reasons are smacked down by mothers and aunties who have gone ahead having 2 kids or more. "Haven't we had babies?" is their smug question. I find it very daunting that such ladies are so indifferent to the pains of motherhood. I wonder why they won't try to understand the word "enough".
The fact that decisions are not respected gets on my nerves. From 'when to have the first kid' to 'what age difference is ideal between 2 siblings' - every damn question is under the limelight. No matter how wisely you have come to a mutual decision depending the best on your emotional preparedness, physical health and financial graph, it is always shot down by unsolicited "expert advice" doled out by previous parents.
We have decided to have the second baby (down the line), instead of all the extra luxuries that we could have otherwise afforded. We have come to decisions of our own, and have are not budging from it, whatever anyone says.
It is human to form opinions and pass judgment. But the least we can do is to be sensible and keep them to ourselves unless expressly asked. Such are sensitive topics and there can be no right or wrong. It is an individual family decision, and no outsider should be contributing to it.
What indeed are you supposed to do? When you are torn in between practicality of inflation laced life and life long guilt of not providing a sibling to your kid; decision making becomes tough.
I am at the threshold of all this. Now that Aarnavi is almost 2, the question looks at me in the face.
Since whenever I thought of my family life, I have always wanted two kids - one of each gender. Probably because that was how we were - myself and V. Kiran, on the other hand, was gonna be happy with just one. This was the time before Aarnavi was born, when we did "the talks" about kids. The whole of first year we have debated on and off - 1 v/s 2. The husband was worried about finances and I couldn't imagine that my still-to-be-conceived-baby would not have a sibling. I tried making him see the advantages of having a sibling. After all, he has a baby sister too who he loves to pieces.
'I cannot imagine my life without V. Can you imagine your childhood without N?' I would ask him continually. Even then he maintained his stand, while reminding me that what I am talking about is still a long way to go. There would be times when he would just give in to my wishful whining. (I guess it was to make me stop discussing the said topic)
After Aarnavi's arrival, opinions took a firmer shape. He was dead against having another baby. Seeing me suffer through the pains and miseries of pregnancy (which was perhaps ones of the easiest ones that women have) and post-partum, he wouldn't hear a word from me. And coming to me, even with all that I went through, I couldn't accept what he said. But then I decided it was best not to bring it up.
As the months passed, the pain, discomfort and even memories of them started to fade away. Aarnavi's growing up was a magical time. She was an ideal baby of sorts. Her milestones were bang on. Her schedule was fixed. She was a happy baby who despite turning our world upside down, kept us hooked. This time, in fact, acted as a catalyst for Kiran to change his mind. Since we were in the US with no help from parents or in laws; he go to be hands-on father. His involvement with Aarnavi made him rethink the decision. The amount of satisfaction he felt in seeing her grow was apparent. He realised it wasn't enough. And he finally accepted that there would indeed be a baby 2 for us.
Many parents are happy with their first born. They have their reasons, and I believe they are justified. Each one knows what they can handle and what they cannot. It is true that in today's world, having two children is nothing short of a luxury. It isn't just "giving a playmate". As parents we are responsible for their upbringing - which means a lot of money. To make two ends meet is not an easy task.
And it isn't just money, there are few other grave things too. Like when I spoke to some of my friends on whether they would go for a second baby, many said they couldn't imagine going through those 9 months again. Others say they are oscillating between the two options. Still others are yet to recover from the shock of motherhood. As expected, these reasons are smacked down by mothers and aunties who have gone ahead having 2 kids or more. "Haven't we had babies?" is their smug question. I find it very daunting that such ladies are so indifferent to the pains of motherhood. I wonder why they won't try to understand the word "enough".
The fact that decisions are not respected gets on my nerves. From 'when to have the first kid' to 'what age difference is ideal between 2 siblings' - every damn question is under the limelight. No matter how wisely you have come to a mutual decision depending the best on your emotional preparedness, physical health and financial graph, it is always shot down by unsolicited "expert advice" doled out by previous parents.
We have decided to have the second baby (down the line), instead of all the extra luxuries that we could have otherwise afforded. We have come to decisions of our own, and have are not budging from it, whatever anyone says.
It is human to form opinions and pass judgment. But the least we can do is to be sensible and keep them to ourselves unless expressly asked. Such are sensitive topics and there can be no right or wrong. It is an individual family decision, and no outsider should be contributing to it.
Friday, 1 November 2013
That Pause, again!
It is during these silent phases on my blog that I am made to realise that I have admirers, rather blog admirers. A lot of you ask me when is my next blog post and why I don't write often. It is indeed heart warming to hear from readers, and the fact that they want you to write, gives a high.
Like I admitted to a friend yesterday (who asked me if I was letting it go); when I don't write, there is this constant nagging at the back of my mind. That voice keeps reminding me of how long it has been, how necessary it is and how I should gain some control over my non-writing phases. It is annoying to keep hearing that over again. And it is impossible to keep that voice at bay.
Yes, I have not been too regular on this space. And for that I apologise. In my defense (as an excuse?), I will say that I lack internal motivation as also the right resource. When I write, I put in a lot of thought, which requires peace - mental as well as physical. I need absolute silence. And a lot of time to frame it the way I do. I cannot fix myself an hour and write a post. It's just me. Even for a post that comes straight from heart, like this one, needs a long time. I write, erase and rewrite over and over. I re-read the post from the beginning after each para.
I don't just write. I indulge. How do you feel when you have that piece of chocolate? or anything that is your absolute favourite? Don't you love to take your time to enjoy the experience of that chemical reaction that is tingling every bit of you. That's exactly what I feel when I write. I like to settle down, take my time thinking and then let everything flow out.
I hate to be disturbed while writing. Any kind of distraction is not welcome. Not even music. It irritates the hell out of me. If I cannot hear myself think, then I cannot write. It looks like writing comes easily to me. It does, but only when all the above conditions are fulfilled.
Given the situation nowadays, it isn't too often that I get what I demand. It is hence difficult for me to focus and dedicate ample time. Nevertheless, there is such a lot that remains to be let out of the system.
Is it too much to ask for? Perhaps, yes. That's the way I function and to be able to function like a well-oiled engine, I just have to have what I want. :)
P.S. Next post coming soon.
Like I admitted to a friend yesterday (who asked me if I was letting it go); when I don't write, there is this constant nagging at the back of my mind. That voice keeps reminding me of how long it has been, how necessary it is and how I should gain some control over my non-writing phases. It is annoying to keep hearing that over again. And it is impossible to keep that voice at bay.
Yes, I have not been too regular on this space. And for that I apologise. In my defense (as an excuse?), I will say that I lack internal motivation as also the right resource. When I write, I put in a lot of thought, which requires peace - mental as well as physical. I need absolute silence. And a lot of time to frame it the way I do. I cannot fix myself an hour and write a post. It's just me. Even for a post that comes straight from heart, like this one, needs a long time. I write, erase and rewrite over and over. I re-read the post from the beginning after each para.
I don't just write. I indulge. How do you feel when you have that piece of chocolate? or anything that is your absolute favourite? Don't you love to take your time to enjoy the experience of that chemical reaction that is tingling every bit of you. That's exactly what I feel when I write. I like to settle down, take my time thinking and then let everything flow out.
I hate to be disturbed while writing. Any kind of distraction is not welcome. Not even music. It irritates the hell out of me. If I cannot hear myself think, then I cannot write. It looks like writing comes easily to me. It does, but only when all the above conditions are fulfilled.
Given the situation nowadays, it isn't too often that I get what I demand. It is hence difficult for me to focus and dedicate ample time. Nevertheless, there is such a lot that remains to be let out of the system.
Is it too much to ask for? Perhaps, yes. That's the way I function and to be able to function like a well-oiled engine, I just have to have what I want. :)
P.S. Next post coming soon.
Friday, 12 April 2013
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.
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.
Monday, 8 April 2013
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...
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
Thursday, 28 March 2013
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.
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.
Thursday, 21 March 2013
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!
I need to work on it!
Tuesday, 26 February 2013
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" ;) ;) ;)
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" ;) ;) ;)
Wednesday, 13 February 2013
28! Is it a big number?
I don't think so. I celebrated my 28th energetic year yesterday and loved every minute of it. And no matter how old I am or will be, I will always love gifts from near and dear ones. I'll let the pictures do the talking 'cause I am busy loving them. :)
After a relaxed hamburger lunch at Red Robin, saw Special 26 (which of course, I loved). Aa allowed us to watch the movie in peace. :)
*I do not believe in shying away from your age. Shout it out loud. Let everyone know how many years you have been awesoming people around you. :)*
On the birthday eve, I got chocolates from V and the family...
which were first claimed by
First thing on the birthday morning got flowers from the husband. I have told him it is ok if I do not get a gift from him, but flowers are a must. I think flowers enhance good moods. Their presence makes me happy. What do you think?
After a relaxed hamburger lunch at Red Robin, saw Special 26 (which of course, I loved). Aa allowed us to watch the movie in peace. :)
Evening we decided we need a cake and some friends to celebrate...
...that's what's remaining of it now!
and the friends bought me this - Perfume and photo frame! Thanks, Alam, Arti and Vishal! - I LOVED them!
Just when I thought my gift quota for this year was over, I received this from my parents today...
chocolate covered strawberries! yummmm.....
Tuesday, 27 November 2012
Peeping Up From The Mundane
"I was busy." seems like a valid reason to many questions regarding one's whereabouts, online or even in the real world. I, for one, have always believed that it is just an excuse for not doing something.
Like now, in my current situation, where I have immersed neck deep in motherhood, I still think being busy is just a term/ an excuse to not do something. And for me, it's totally got to do with my laziness. I wished a 1000 times that I would blog, or read a book or do something craftsy, or walk the treadmill. Alas, I have just kept wishing.
This brings me to a whole lot of things that I have just let go and not shared on my space here.
Thanksgiving is just over and we had some wonderful family time. It's always been the three of us here and over this holiday, we bonded and shared fun times. I realize that to make you feel good, special and happy, you don't need many friends or too many people... one right person, and you are settled for life. And this year, although with the tight budget, we bought a few things... splurged a little to make ourselves happy. Will blog about it soon.
I get feedback from readers, not just the comments, but elsewhere, saying that they read my blog. Some say they read because I make them laugh, some say they relate to it very well, some say they look forward to my next blog post and often want to know when I will be doing so. I am so touched and humbled to get such beautiful views over my blog. No doubt, I love it when I am writing, but the feedback heightens the excitement.
Also a lot of you have mentioned that it is difficult to comment on the blog and that you have not been able to do it. I truly do not know how fix that thing... so sorry for that snag. Hope it will resolve in the near future.
I am very much looking forward to the December month. Guess what it brings? Snow, memories and this year, as my god sent Christmas gift, V is gonna come visiting. Life couldn't get any better when you look forward to amazing. I know I am in for some awesome fun time.
And time flies fast don't you think? Aa is already almost 11 months old and I cannot believe it. I have been given the entire responsibility to put together her birthday. I am pleased as a pie! There was a time when I used to have my birthdays celebrated and here I am planning for my daughter's. I feel older wiser. ;)
Well, that's all much I can think of at this moment to update. More posts will be seen soon. :) Promise.
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
Freeing From Clutter
As childish as it may seem, crying helps a lot! It eases the mind like anything. In fact, I realize that venting helps to start afresh. A few days ago, I found my mind cluttered with all kinds of things - hurtful comments, bad fights, wrong accusations. These things have a way of creeping into your mind and growing like a crazy weed. I was thinking in a loop . These thoughts just wouldn't go away. They played and replayed till it hurt me anew. And there was no one at the moment to hear me out. Nor was I sure if I wanted to let someone else see these personal ghosts.
I got a book and a pen and I wrote and wrote till my hand ached. The words just came out. It was like taking dictations from somebody. I did not pause for even a second to collect my thoughts. I was so brimming with these emotions that they came oozing out. I had filled up six sides and when my hand stopped receiving signals naturally, all my worries were on the paper.
When I re read them, I was amazed at how much I was holding back. The pain, the hurt, the stress slipped away and I was feeling lighter. I haven't looked back at that writing again.
Some say scribbling hard helps, some say destroying something helps, and some more say screaming helps. Dealing with it in this manner, transforms your discomfort into something tangible. They just give you a temporary outlet to your current emotions; they do not free you from them. To truly cleanse your mind, that bad stuff needs to be out of your system, transferred onto/ into something that goes away. Cry it out. Let the steam out. Let your worries dissolve in tears or words and see them off.
Try it. It might succeed in taking some miseries off your life.
I got a book and a pen and I wrote and wrote till my hand ached. The words just came out. It was like taking dictations from somebody. I did not pause for even a second to collect my thoughts. I was so brimming with these emotions that they came oozing out. I had filled up six sides and when my hand stopped receiving signals naturally, all my worries were on the paper.
When I re read them, I was amazed at how much I was holding back. The pain, the hurt, the stress slipped away and I was feeling lighter. I haven't looked back at that writing again.
Some say scribbling hard helps, some say destroying something helps, and some more say screaming helps. Dealing with it in this manner, transforms your discomfort into something tangible. They just give you a temporary outlet to your current emotions; they do not free you from them. To truly cleanse your mind, that bad stuff needs to be out of your system, transferred onto/ into something that goes away. Cry it out. Let the steam out. Let your worries dissolve in tears or words and see them off.
Try it. It might succeed in taking some miseries off your life.
Sunday, 19 August 2012
Day 19 :: Cook-a-doodle
Cooking is not my favourite activity. In fact, if it acts like a stress buster for many, this activity is the main cause for stress in my life. Si if you see black circles under my eyes, it is most certainly the cooking.
Having made such catastrophic statement, that too being a woman; let me say that it is highly stereotyped that all women love cooking. I dislike it. I think cooking a meal that too everyday is a pathetic way to hell. It is my personal feeling though. I certainly do not intend to say that anyone who loves it, are pathetic. Believe me, I love eating. Not quantities though. I like the process of eating, but let's not get into that now.
Before marriage, there were all kinds of excusable reasons for not entering the kitchen. However once you are done tying the knot, you are expected to be the masterchef.
It is not to be mistaken that I cannot cook at all. I do manage to dress up the table with a decent meal and at times tasty too. I find it too tiresome to tax myself thinking day after day "what to cook?". I truly can never come up with something myself. I have to resort to cook books or the net for the same. If we are having guests at home, I'd be thinking hours and hours for one dish. My brain somersaults at the thought of cooking!
Give me a blank page and I will write something decent, but give me 5 ingredients and I will be running around in circles. There are a lot of women out there, who are enthused about cooking. Some even have blogs dedicated exclusively to their kitchen encounters. People might think that I am jealous of such bloggers. But no, I truly appreciate their patience to record and take a snap(!!!) of each and every step. In fact, I think "hmmm.... wouldn't it be nice if I could eat this right away?"
Like I mentioned earlier, I am a foodie. I watch cookery shows like a true chef would. I see every step attentively, every measurement accurately. At the end of the show, I'd be saliviating. Only if you ask me what went into making a delectable dish, I'd probably shrug off in reply because I never really paid attention to how it was done, rather I was busy thinking how nice would it be if someone made this for me!!!!
My mom thinks it is shameful that instead of mending my ways, I shamefully admit that I hate cooking. But where is it written that women should be passionate about cooking? It's just that I am not. That's it. I think it is better not to decieve myself of this wayward truth of my life. I do make something to eat everyday, don't I? When I invite people over, even though I spent ample amount thinking than on the action, I do it. It's not that I blatantly refuse to cook.
And one more thing, there have been more misses than hits in my kitchen adventures. I do not mind saying that even, openly. Hence, the displeasure.
Having made such catastrophic statement, that too being a woman; let me say that it is highly stereotyped that all women love cooking. I dislike it. I think cooking a meal that too everyday is a pathetic way to hell. It is my personal feeling though. I certainly do not intend to say that anyone who loves it, are pathetic. Believe me, I love eating. Not quantities though. I like the process of eating, but let's not get into that now.
Before marriage, there were all kinds of excusable reasons for not entering the kitchen. However once you are done tying the knot, you are expected to be the masterchef.
It is not to be mistaken that I cannot cook at all. I do manage to dress up the table with a decent meal and at times tasty too. I find it too tiresome to tax myself thinking day after day "what to cook?". I truly can never come up with something myself. I have to resort to cook books or the net for the same. If we are having guests at home, I'd be thinking hours and hours for one dish. My brain somersaults at the thought of cooking!
Give me a blank page and I will write something decent, but give me 5 ingredients and I will be running around in circles. There are a lot of women out there, who are enthused about cooking. Some even have blogs dedicated exclusively to their kitchen encounters. People might think that I am jealous of such bloggers. But no, I truly appreciate their patience to record and take a snap(!!!) of each and every step. In fact, I think "hmmm.... wouldn't it be nice if I could eat this right away?"
Like I mentioned earlier, I am a foodie. I watch cookery shows like a true chef would. I see every step attentively, every measurement accurately. At the end of the show, I'd be saliviating. Only if you ask me what went into making a delectable dish, I'd probably shrug off in reply because I never really paid attention to how it was done, rather I was busy thinking how nice would it be if someone made this for me!!!!
My mom thinks it is shameful that instead of mending my ways, I shamefully admit that I hate cooking. But where is it written that women should be passionate about cooking? It's just that I am not. That's it. I think it is better not to decieve myself of this wayward truth of my life. I do make something to eat everyday, don't I? When I invite people over, even though I spent ample amount thinking than on the action, I do it. It's not that I blatantly refuse to cook.
And one more thing, there have been more misses than hits in my kitchen adventures. I do not mind saying that even, openly. Hence, the displeasure.
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