Day 8 :: When are you giving me a "good news"?

Yeah! Right, so how many of you married gals have had to endure this statement before you thrust your bounty baby into their hands?

They (read: parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, relatives, friends, i.e society, in general) will relentlessly hold your case until they get a satisfactory reply. That reply always is the birth of your baby! They care, they say. Like we don't.

I am not against anyone who inquire once or twice. It's when these people start getting nosy that you are at complete loss of privacy. I mean how in this world are you supposed to answer that question? I guess to shut them up one should say "Tonight we are starting a new session. You might expect the news soon." Try that and you shall be forever labelled "Shameless"

A new life is the biggest investment you make in your life. Like once I heard someone say "A kid isn't as easy as making it." True that! From the moment you find out that you are pregnant, you are responsible for the well being of the life growing inside you. One  needs to be prepared (although you realise later that the preparation was but marginal).

The decision to add to your family solely depends on the couple - whether they want to have one or not, now or 10 years later, Vicky donor or adoption or surrogacy - entirely is their say! Alas, we make it our business.

In my case, parents and in laws did mention their wish and need for a grand child. But perhaps the fact that we were here, they did not pursue much. It might have been a different story had we been close by. (You see you can't do too much much-much over an international call.)

One of my friend had this irritating habit of asking me if I were pregnant. She asked me that when I called her to invite for my wedding reception!!! And guess what? She was then already been married for 2 years and still no news of the good news! When I pointed it out to her she says "You are younger than you. You first!!" Like we were arguing over who will first eat a piece of cake.

After that, every time she called, this was the only thing she wanted to know!!!!

Like I said, people have to have their say in others' lives. When I did conceive, one of my school mate pinged to "confirm" the news, although she had read it on my blog in black and white!

Honestly, I was happy she asked. Who doesn't like it when people talk about your happiness?

After asking me if I was in India and if it was indeed the news, she says "really nice to know... But that's really soon right...sorry don't mean to offend" Alright now, the question is not just offending (which you probably already knew), it is downright insulting and vulgar.

I had a thousand ways to answer her query with vile comebacks and some meaner counter-questions, but I held my tongue, just because I did not want any negativity to affect my baby. Nor could I stoop to that level of raising demeaning questions. Did she want to know if it was an unplanned baby? an accident? I am not (and neither should anyone be) answerable to such questions.

All that makes you sick to your stomach pit. No matter how hard we try to escape, someone succeeds in trapping you.

The story doesn't end with the baby. They'll ask you when is the next good news? ;)




Alright now, the question was not just offending (which you probably already knew) , it is downright insulting and vulgar.

Day 7 :: Another Award And a Tag

First of all apologies for being so late in updating my today's post. It was my Yoga evening and hence the delay.

umm... how do I start? First of all THANKS to Uma for being so generous with the blog awards. And also sorry girl, for not taking it up any earlier. Hope you didn't think I'd pass it!

So I get

Aren't they lovely? I am all smiles. Thanks really! Like blog awards function tradition, I am supposed to pass on this award to fellow bloggers. And I read only a handful of yous! ;) There is a sea of bloggers who write wonderfully, much better than I do! So instead of nominating people, let me pass this award to all the bloggers who are committed to blogging and love their spaces to pieces. Many people start a blog but soon neglect it, since they can't seem to keep up with the writing bit. Hence,consider yourself awarded if you are in the category.

Also I am supposed to write 7 random facts about myself.

1. I am weaker than I thought I was. Physically and emotionally as well. Of late anything hurts me and tears sting in my eyes at slightest provocation.

2. I can live without the television but not without the internet.

3. I forgive, but never forget.

4. I have many unfulfilled wishes. Some of them remain so due to my laziness!

5. I thought it' d be scary to mother a child. Now I am loving it.

6. I do not place trust in anyone easily. I am a doubtful person and will doubt even the most genuine intentions. Perhaps that's just the way I am. Ask KK.

&

7. I drink very less water. :( Maybe just like a glass or two in a day. On the other hand, all through the night I finish a bottle of water! :|

Day 6 :: And what they said...

As soon as I lay my eyes on the tattoo, I was welling up with emotions. I was feeling honoured, although I did realise that he must have had to go through a lot of pain for that. I wasn't really thrilled with the thought.

Like I said, with that "I don't care what others think about it." dialogue, I knew that he must have gotten a tattoo. (And there were other clues too, like one day over video chat, he said he was feeling cold and wore a long sleeved shirt. And he is not the one who feels cold so easily!) He wanted to do it long back; even before we got married. I had told him not to. I have heard that it is way too painful,. And let's just face it, there isn't a dearth of people who would have thought I made him do it.

And neither was I expecting it to be this large. It was fairly new and hence the skin was a bit raw and swollen. You can imagine the melange of feel-good and feel-bad emotions that I was experiencing!

That episode elicits a wide range of reactions from people.

Reaction by 

Mom-in-law : She just smiled.

Sister-in-law : WOW, Brother!

Father-in-law : Love birds. Do what you please, you both!

Hubby's aunt : (jaw dropping) Did it pain? Why did you do this?
 - Hubby's reply : Because I love her!

Hubby's maami :Oh! You shouldn't have!
 -Hubby's reply : Oh! But I wanted to!

My mom : Is that permanent?

My dad : (Raises eyebrows with a smile)

V : !!!!!!!

N : (Playfully looks daggers at V)

My younger cousin brothers : Awesome, bhavaji!!! Even I wanted to do, but mom doesn't let me!
 -Hubby's reply : Earn and do it with your own money. No one will say anything.

Our Friend, T :Yaar, tune toh hadd kardi. You shouldn't do such things. It gets the rest of us in trouble with our wives!!!

:) :) :)

The next day was my baby shower, where my Parents-in-law had arranged for a Pooja (Sheemantha) and about a hundred people where invited. No points for guessing, I was NOT the centre of attraction!

And then there are some more reactions, each qualifying for a separate post for themselves. Wait for them.

;)

Day 5 : Knight in Shining ARMor

Every girl has at least once in her life time fantasized about her knight in the shining armor. Like a typical Bollywood movie, she wonders what out of the world thing her man would do for her. And she wishes - wishes that her fantasy does come true.

Now, what was my fantasy? Well, I wanted a memorable proposal. Nothing too elaborate or expensive, but something that would be etched in my mind forever. Something sweet, something special. I didn't want a going down on the knees bit. That is too cliched and unoriginal. I'd have preferred him (I didn't have KK in mind then) to unexpectedly pop the ring, or the question when I was with my friends. 

But as you possibly know already, my story was entirely different! Fantasy indeed!

KK, however, had other plans.

Last year in October, he told me he was coming back from the US with a nice little surprise for me. He has this very bad habit. He knows I am a curious cat and still he has to tell me that there is a surprise. I kept guessing. 'Something awesome, for you.' he assured each time we spoke. 

I kept guessing. Is it a Solitaire?, a car? a villa? Swarovski? Apple?? Each time the response was negative. 'You shall see, and keep seeing'

There was nothing I could do other than wait patiently for him to come. 

In a few days, one of is colleagues wife pinged me and eventually said "Bhaiyya ne aapke liye kuch kiya hai. Aapko bahut accha lagega. Lekin please unhein mat bolna ki maine apko yeh bola hai." (Your husband has done something really very nice for you. You will like it. But please don't tell him that I said this to you")

She knows what he bought for me?? I mean, why would KK want to tell the whole world what he does for me?? And again a few days later, my best friend in Germany pings me and says, "KK is absolutely amazing re! He loves you so much!! He has a nice surprise for you!" She too??!  I was getting a little irritated and impatient. How dare he keep me in the dark?

When I got confrontational, he took another way out by getting all mushy and emotional. "You know, I don't care what people say or relatives think. I just did it for me and for you." Now this dialogue, I had heard before. I started getting a whiff of what he might have got for me. 

He came to India on 16th October. And he was supposed to attend his cousin's wedding and only then come home. On his way back, he refused to even tell it any of his relatives. He wanted me to be the first one to know. (Yeah, right!!!)

The moment I saw him, I pulled him into the bedroom. Even before I asked him how the journey was, I wanted to know what my gift was! 

He pulled up his shirt sleeve and showed me 

I know! Sweet! 

More about this later...

Day 4 :: Disappointment sometimes

Friendship is a vague term. Just like "Love" is. There is no particular definition to it, nor any boundaries. Hence when someone is good to you, talks to nicely, smiles at you often, you instantly regard him/ her as a friend. And a person can have so many of them. It is hard to say if they are real friends or just casual someones.

I am choosy about befriending anyone. That is not be mistaken with being friendly. I can be friendly with any random person. As a result, I have very few friends and I have held them close to my heart. Maybe I am not that verbal, but friendship from my side has always been sincere and genuine. I cannot fake it. If I have to, I'd rather break the ties. 

Am I wrong in expecting the same kind of devotion to friendship from them? And is this the reason why I end up being disappointed and dejected and sometimes hurt when they fall short???

I remember a series of incidents in college that led to me having a huge fall out with  my so called friends. They called me rude and mean for being straight forward, for calling a spade a spade. And I called them hypocrites, for being hypocrites. They took my straight forwardness to heart, while they celebrated happy times bitching cruelly behind backs. I didn't mind if they hated me, but at least have he guts to tell it to me oin my face! I couldn't bear this two faced friendship. I severed ties with them but not without a verbal.

By then I fairly knew that not everyone is worth your trust`. I understand that my real friends take me as I am, sometimes telling me that being so blunt is not good. And I have respected that, even though I did not agree. 

What do you truly expect from a friend? Just that he shares your joys and understands your sorrows? I realised that not everyone with whom you hang out, spend fun time with, share some secrets with or gives you sound advice can meet your expectation. 

During my pregnant days in Pune, I encountered many friends, online and in person too. All of them were way too happy to see me in pregnant state. "Ohhhhhh you are having a baby??? How sweet, how cute!!!" was the general outburst from them. Everyone was pouring advices left, right and centre. And all of them wanted to be the first one to know whether it was a girl or a boy. And of course, everyone promised to come and meet the little one. 

I was at my parents' place for 5 months. None of these gushing, enthusiastic friends, who wanted to see Aa came to visit me. This is not just one or two of them. Many promised continually, and never turned up. One friend even told me she is coming for sure on Saturday. That Saturday never came.  

I am not saying that I am important or that my baby should be for someone. My point is why make a commitment when you do not plan to honour it? Why act concerned when you obviously do not seem to. Perhaps I would understand if this has happened with one or two friends. But all of them??? Except for my three friends, Pallavi, Shraddha and Tejaswini, who were behind my back to know what Aa does every day. I am so thankful that I still have some of those gems for friends. Others, are they just illusions?

I am not staking my friendship on this incident alone. I am not that fragile. But I can feel disappointed, can't I? 

I know I probably shouldn't have posted this on the eve of Friendship Day. But feelings don't see days! Promising a nice post tomorrow. 

Day 3 :: The Memsaab

A golden Honda City halts at the red signal. The rear window on the right side lowers just a bit. A hand peeps out and disposes off a chocolate wrapper. Even before anyone notices it, the hand withdraws itself and the window runs up to shut the world out…

He sees this every day. The whole affair doesn’t take more than a few seconds;  yet this boy, all of eleven, noticed every small detail about the car and the mysterious hand. It fascinates him to no end. He waits in anticipation every day for the shiny golden Honda City to wait at the signal. To his young eyes, it looks like a huge goldfish, shining in the morning sun. There was not a scratch or speck of dust on the car. Ever perfect, spotless, pure. It so did not belong to the ugly weekday traffic - full of rickshaws, Municipal buses and push carts! It belongs to some Rajmarg, where it would be the only car to parade in a grand manner, he often thought.  

The hand that sent chocolate wrappers flying on the road, no less, impressed him. The hand belonged to a lady. Who else could a dainty little hand with long artistic fingers painted in hues of colours belong to? There was a sparkle on one of the fingers. He guessed it was an expensive diamond ring. Imaginative that he was, he was adept at guessing a lot about the Memsaab, based only on the features and characteristics of her hand.

He was amazed at how Memsaab changed the colour of her nails every day! One day it was bright orange, the next it would be olive green! Yellow, soft pink, blue, red, brown, silver, black, purple and sometimes even golden, just like the car! Shades of pink were his favourite, black turned him off! Ohh! So many colours! He had never seen so many colours in his drab, lackluster life!  He would sympathetically look down at himself. With a filthy shirt torn in half a dozen places, held together by tepid sewing attempts by chachi- ji; he never knew what the original colour ever was. In fact he didn’t even remember when he started wearing it! His shorts were no less a joke. Uneven zip and broken button forced him to tie a rope around his waist for it to stay in place. Clothes were unwashed for weeks, or maybe months; he abhorred his pitiful image.

These few minutes of guessing kept his spirits high. Although, he never liked it when the signal was green and the car sped away even before he had the chance to take a good look at it! He longed for the week days as much as he disliked the weekends. Perhaps the Memsaab doesn’t have to go to work on weekends, he thought. But if she is so rich; why does she have to work even? He mentally patted himself for his logical thinking and concluded that she must be a student. Yes, working hands are never so delicate. He had seen chachi-ji’s hands; rough as the tar road he was standing barefoot on.

So mesmerized was he by Memsaab, that one day he decided to collect those unwanted chocolate wrappers. He ran to grab them before they were sent soaring into the sky by other vehicles. He could almost sense the touch of Memsaab’s delicate fingers. He kept them carefully in a “Pan Parag” container. The stench of pan masala was so strong , that the intoxicating, sweet aroma of chocolate eventually faded. How he wished he had another dabba to store his treasure! But he had to make do with what he had. It was after a great deal of boisterous begging that chachi-ji had finally relented and parted with something that had belonged to her.

By and by, he had come close to collecting seventy wrappers. Alas, he would never know. He could only count  ek se dus (one to ten). That too, he had learnt from chachi-ji when, at the end of the day, she distributed biscuits bought out of begging money to four others like him. He longed to study. His horizons never faded with the end of the day. It just about began then, when he yet again fantasized about going to school and making it big! Who knew? Maybe one day he would own a golden Honda City! His thoughts always reached a full stop at the golden Honda City and its Memsaab!

‘How odd!’, he thought. ‘I have never made an attempt to even take a look at Memsaab! I never even went close to the gold car!’ With that thought fermenting in his mind, he started devising ways to encounter the car. He started approaching it with odd jobs. One day he maneuvered his way through other haphazardly strewn vehicles. He felt delirious to be so close something that he thought was unattainable! For almost three seconds he forgot he was supposed to clean the wind shield and windows of the car, allowing him to take a good look at the person whose hand was such a beautiful piece of art! He stood stupefied facing the car with a big grin on his face. He only came to, when the signal turned green and the chauffer rudely shooed him away.

He was not disappointed though. So what if he couldn’t get a glimpse of the Memsaab today; he would try again tomorrow and again the day after and again, till he found the satisfaction of seeing her.

The next day, armed with cloth and Colin(which was bought a few months ago with the children's hard earned money; diluted umpteen number of times to make it last longer), he wasted no time in rushing towards the car. He wouldn’t make the same mistake as the previous day. He would not gape like a fool. He would start his mission immediately.  

This time, the moment he sprayed a little liquid onto the windshield, the ever irritated chauffer pulled down his window and gave him a earful, ‘Gaadi saaf hai. Haath mat lagao!’ (The car is clean. Don’t touch it!’) The words seemed to be painted blood red, just like the driver’s spit. Taken aback by such a sharp retort, he ran to safety. Day 2 was indeed a flop. And what more, he had been told off; never to touch the clean beauty. What could he do now?

After days of anticipation and brainstorming, he decided he would sell magazines. People buy those. They sell like hot cakes! He would carry the filmy magazines. Surely, Memsaab would be interested in those! With these happy thoughts, he started counting the stars… he melted into peaceful sleep just before he counted dus.

Pumped with new enthusiasm, he gathered the glossy, glamorous books in his small hands and waited for what seemed like hours. The moment he noticed the car in his peripheral vision, he made a dash for it. He had also learnt some broken English words from his friends. He thought he would use them to impress Memsaab. Maybe he should call her Memsaab-ji for that added respect.

He was careful not to bang on the window, for he knew the red spit driver too well for his curt manners. He softly knocked on the right window, knowing only too well that Memsaab was on that side.  He peered through the tinted glass. All he could see was his own reflection of foul clothes and sweaty, dust-streaked face. He knocked again, this time firmer, but gently. No response. He squinted and tried to see inside. With a lot of concentration, he managed to see beyond his own image.Memsaab was busy reading newspaper. He could only see her same right hand holding the newspaper in air, covering her face entirely! Dejected and cursing his luck, he turned back.

Next few days too were a stroke of bad luck for him! Some days the signal would jump to green even before the car halted. The other day the driver admonished him yet again for touching the car with his sloppy fingers. It was when the car did not turn up for three days in a row that he was genuinely scared and worried.

On the fourth day, he saw that unmistakable shimmer of gold that seemed to float in the mid-week rush. The royal beauty gently braked and he was promptly by its side. Success was almost licking his feet, when he saw Memsaab was already digging into her purse. Certainly she was looking for exact change. He was smiling ear to ear. His dream would come true today, he thought gleefully. Meanwhile, he was busy being enthralled by her below the shoulder length hair. He could see the softness of her hair, curls at the end dangling beautifully below the right shoulder. He was instantly reminded of the shampoo ad hoarding that was put up just three days before at the junction. She must look like Bipaasa Basu. Within minutes, horns blared and he had to get out of the way. In his reverie, he forgot that Memsaab did not once look up at him. He had missed the opportunity for what seemed like the thousandth time.  

He tried several times; every time a new problem was posed to him. Probably sensing his presence,Memsaab started sitting on the other side, facing to her left!  It was next to impossible to be on the left side of the road, since it was dug up pretty deep. ‘Why do they keep digging every now and then?’ he thought bitterly. He almost gave up on his dream.

Today however, he woke up with an unusual reassurance in his mind. You will see the much awaitedMemsaab today, said a voice somewhere deep within him. He smiled at his confident thought and wondered if it would come true. Looking back at the turn of events in the past few days, he was hardly feeling optimistic! Well, what did he have to lose? He would try again today like the rest of the days.

It was almost time for the goldfish to come gliding down the road. He thought it would be best to stay on the left side of the road. Miscalculating the time today, he started running down the street without even once looking at the signal which was nowhere near red. Within seconds, he heard his bones crunching. His pretty goldfish had hit him. The pain that shot through his entire body was coming in waves. He was feeling drained, as if someone was methodically sucking life from him.

He was in and out of consciousness. In one of the fading moments, he saw the Memsaab, holding his profusely bleeding head, screaming hysterically at people who had gathered all about them, ‘It’s the signal boy! It’s the signal boy! Oh my god! Please don’t die, don’t die! Please help!’

In those morbid moments he thanked his inner voice. How it told him that he would see his Memsaab today! Oh, how beautiful she is! And her hands, ever so soft! Her voice, though loud was silken! And she called me the ‘signal boy’, she recognized me.

With these parting thoughts, he smiled, for the last time. His dream was fulfilled. At last, he slept. Peacefully!

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If you liked this, then the credit also goes to my good friend, Nishanth, who saw to it that the article came out better than how I had originally written it. Many Thanks to you, Nishanth! :)

Day 2 :: When Ties Run Deeper

I hardly realised it was Raksha Bandhan today until I saw some FB wishes. A day when a sister ties a sacred thread onto her brothers' arms and asks for love and protection for a lifetime.

Like every brother sister duo, V and me have also celebrated this day since childhood. Of late we haven't been together on this day. However, I remember all our childhood antics, fights and fun. I particularly remember one day when we fought so badly that I refused to tie him my Rakhi. Every year that's the day I keep replaying in my mind. :)

Today evening, being alone at home with Aa, I was generally feeling lonely and depressed. Suddenly when I heard the knock on the door, i wondered if it was my friend here. It wasn't. It was a kind lady with a huge box in her hand and asked me if I was the person mentioned as addressee. I was.

I cried as I took it in my hands. I was crying and hysterically telling Aa that her mama has sent me flowers for Rakshabandhan!! Aa must have thought I was all gone. I leave you with the pictures.

I thank the lady who was concerned enough to bring the flowers up to me because she thought they might wither. Bless her!

Vinayak anna, I love you! Even though you make me cry.