Tonight I bleed

Tonight I bleed

My heart cries

My womb bleeds

Tonight we let go

It's our release

All the hurt and pain

I held within

The whole universe of

Pleasure and sin

Tonight I let go

Tonight I bleed

My womb mourns for the loss

Of life within

I cry for what could have been

Tonight we bleed

Tomorrow I will pick my weapons

I will fight my battles and win

But tonight I cry my silent tears

Tonight I bleed.

Things a Husband Should Never Say to a New Mom

Ladies, let's face it. Going into labour and birthing a baby has to be the toughest thing we do. And just when you expect your better half to step up and be there, they would be like a deer in headlights. So we have come up with a list of things that a husband should never ever say to his wife who has just had a baby.

"You have no idea how crazy it was. I will need therapy to forget that!"
Actual words spoken by a husband who was inside the delivery room. Yes of course I have no idea, I have only pushed a watermelon sized kid out of my lady bits.

"You still look like you have a baby inside you." 
Of course I do. It is 9 months to make a baby and 9 months to lose the weight. Make that 9 years. It’s an irrevocable change to my body and you better get used to that.

"I’m back from work. What did you do all day?"
Usually followed with a roll of eyes or some shit. Dude I kept your child alive. Make me coffee and call me beautiful.

"Are you sure we should go out to eat? Let’s just order in." 
Yes I am sure. Yes I will hate it and probably complain about it the whole time. But I still want to go out. I forgot what the outside world looks like.

"It is better I go alone to the party. The baby won’t like it and you would get hassled."
Duh! Of course, the baby isn’t going to like it. But how does that automatically gives you the right to leave? How about we switch places huh?

"Hey, the baby is crying!"
Are you serious? I know that. I can hear that cry across three walls. Hell my boobs start leaking at the first cry. But there is a reason why I am ignoring the crying baby. Get the hint? It is your turn. It is always your turn.

"Let’s not use protection, there is no way you can pregnant that soon!"
One tight slap on the face. Seriously this one really deserves the smack!

Do you have any more to add? Share them here.

This post was first published here. 

Jain couple taking diksha are they really selfish?

Lately, the news of a Jain couple taking Diksha has been doing the rounds. You may have read the story, shared it and/or commented on it. Usually, I take these things with a pinch of salt. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. And free internet has taken the freedom of speech to a whole new level. But with great freedom comes great responsibility and I definitely see no such considerations in the comments I have come across various mommy groups.

To briefly introduce the story, a young couple decided to take Jain Diksha (monk-hood) and leave behind their 3-year-old daughter. The outrage among mommy communities is totally understandable. How could they do this to their own daughter? Why have children if this was the path you wanted? Yes yes it would be so much easier if there was no child in the equation.

But what gets my goat is the way the outrage is directed mostly towards the mother. The headline reads “Man leaves 400 crore property behind and his wife leaves 3 years old daughter behind” Yes because we all know only a mother is responsible for the child, especially in India. If this story was only about the man taking Diksha it would be a hero story. Look at him leaving behind all that wealth. But lo behold the mother has taken a decision and out comes the daggers and knives.

I am a Jain. Not a very religious one but definitely born and brought up around principles of Jainism. My own aunt has taken diksha at the age of 16 years. This was 50 years ago. I regularly meet families where one or more members have taken diksha. Like every religion ours is divided into many different sects too. And I am no expert on any. But this is what my understanding is, Jainism preaches control on one’s own self. Moksha is the state of enlightenment where you leave all the worldly pleasures and relations behind. We have to rise above the moh and maaya. That’s the ultimate goal of being born a human.

The one line that defines Jain priniciples for me is “Nij par shasan fir anushasan” which means we have to exercise discipline on ourselves before we can preach to others.

The process of Diksha is a complicated one. It is not granted to anyone who asks for it. There is an elaborate scrutiny. There are tests in place to check whether this is what a person truly wants and whether they can survive the hardships that come along this path. There is a transition period where they live like interns and are sent back home all this to test their calling. It is only when all these stages are successfully cleared, does one become a sadhu or sadhvi.

I read in an article that started off as an apology to the three year old that her parents were too selfish and that they conveniently dumped her on grandparents like how kids are dumped in dumpsters. Really?! How can you compare the two situations? In a society like ours where so many parents are working almost 12-15 hours a day outside home, isn’t it the grandparents who are playing the role of primary caregivers? Agreed the two situations are not alike but it definitely is not justified to compare it to the dumpster example, is it?

Rather than pointing fingers at this couple how about we direct our outrage towards the state of child-care in our country? We all know the idiom “It takes a village to raise a child.” Where is this village? Where is the support system for a mother? Why the world come pointing fingers at her if she chooses to follow a path that takes her away from the child? In an ideal world a child should be born in a loving community and if the parents for some reason can’t take care of the child, the community would. But we are far from this idealism and it is very easy to hold the mother accountable.

People are saying they should not have had the child if they were very religious from the beginning. But, this is a spiritual decision. It is a calling very difficult to ignore. It can build up over the years or take a moment to feel like that. I am sure they didn’t plan for it to happen this way.

I have no idea what their personal situation is. But one thing I have learned as an adult is, we all should have the right to define our own Normal. We should not be judged for choosing a path which is different than the so called “norms” of the society.

This post first appeared here

Azaadi moms ki

Happy Independence Day!

Wait you are a mom you don’t know what freedom is. You are a chattel slave of a three feet human that you produced! That too sober! (or not)

Anyway, since we are talking about freedom, here is a list of things we mothers need freedom from on this independence day:

1.       Judgemental people: They say it takes a whole village to raise a child. But can we do away with the judgy village folk? No really the last thing I need is for you to judge me just because my child is throwing a very untimely tantrum

2.       Unwanted advice: Scratch that. Any Advice period. Seriously the moment we get pregnant the whole world and their mother thinks they have to unload advice on us. All of a sudden in-laws, neighbors, maids, neighbors’ maids, door ki Maasi, Delhi wali bua, and sundry feels the need to share their invaluable gyaan. No thank you Auntyji.

3.       Maid tantrums: Can we please please have house help insurance? If one leaves us in lurch the insurance guys have to replace with another. Because finding one, training her, learning to trust her only to be ditched at the altar is the worst kind of heartbreak.

4.       Martyr Syndrome: Can we get a break from this selfless, all –giving , every forgiving, putting herself last Nirupama Roy wali Maa? We are Prisma dude! We are unapologetic, bad-ass, stealing our kids’ chocolates, swearing under our breath Maa.

5.       Peer pressure: You know that impeccably dressed mother of an over-achiever kid? Sitting in the front row of all school functions, first name basis with the principal whose child is winning the student of the year award. Or the one whose timeline is filled with flawless family pictures at Phoren locations who conducts a bake sale for charity and throws the best birthday parties. The tiger mother who always makes you feel bad for your lazy panda parenting. Yes those moms. I’m allergic to them. My child goes to school in bus because I don’t want to encounter this specie at the school gate

6.       Whatsapp groups: If you are a mom of two this is what your Whatsapp looks like.

o   Grade 3 D Division

o   Jr KG Division A

o   Grade 3 GHV school

o   Chess class Monday Batch

o   Gymnastics @ Don Bosco

o   Class Café

o   Kiaan turns 4

o   Moms club 

o   Drawing class @ JB

o   Ganpati Dance Rehearsals – Junior group

o   I-day elocution practice group

This list is unending. Whatsapp has to be the bane of my existence as a mother. It almost makes me wonder if parenting was even possible before the invention of Whatsapp.

7.       School work and projects : Think of all the best out of waste, Environment friendly Ganesha, Dress up as freedom fighter, Poster on water conservation, working model of a car made our of milk carton. Think of all the hours spent making crap nobody cares about. Sign me out please.

8.       Birthday Parties: No really. Can we just have a drop off birthday party where both kids are invited irrespective of their age and where the mother insists on no-gift no return gift policy? I don’t want to dress up and hang around bunch of equally jaded parents at an extremely noisy hall which serves sugar bombs and make my already hyper kids hyperventilate. I definitely don’t want to see another mom in a matching matching dress as her child. NO. Just NO.

9.       Mommy Politics: Breast or Bottle? Cloth or Disposable? Organic or Natural? Baby wearing or Baby holding? Normal or C-section? Co-sleeping or baby cot? Only child or siblings? ICSE or CBSE or IB or Waldorf or Home schooling? Anti-biotics or Homeopathy? English or Mother tongue? Screen time or not? I don’t want this. I don’t want to read another article telling me working mothers raise independent kids or stay-at-home mother’s children are more secure. Just let us be please. Parenting is hard enough without adding all this politics to it.

10.   Unpaid Labor: Motherhood is nothing but 20 years (if you are lucky) of bonded unpaid labor. A salary.com survey tells us an average stay-at-home mom is putting in 94 hours a week and worth more than $112,0004 year. That’s right! No more free labor. We want to be paid. Because we are worth it!

This post was first featured on First Moms Club website.

Hormonal imbalance

When I birthed my younger son, I realized that I will be living with only males. It was a scary thought. There is the husband the 8 year old and a 4 year old. Even our help is a man. So you can imagine the testosterone levels tend to tip on the higher side. Usually I dont bother much about this but its a different story every time I am PMSing.

Yes in a house full of these XY creatures I unleash my hormonal imbalance every three weeks. and these poor sods don't know where to hide. I would write them a handbook if i wasn't so angry at all of them. 

Anyway so husband has a great way to handle this. He stocks chocolates in the house and make travel plans to conveniently avoid the crazy days. It took me a while to understand his modus operandi. But I kind of like it now. Its so much better than him being around and me feeling murderous towards him. Kids on the other hand have no clue why their mother becomes this fire spewing dragon every few days. 

Sometime ago I took Arav aside and told him about periods. I said Mamma has an organ in her body "uterus" which is where she kept you and N before you were born. And every month when there is no baby inside that organ expels the extra tissues and blood and Mamma ends up feeling uncomfortable and unwell. and that is also why I become all shouty at you guys. His first reaction was wow. Your body is so complicated. But now he is a super trooper on my team. Fetches me things and in general leaves me alone.

Yesterday I heard him tell N its mamma's private days and she needs rest. So both of them played quietly on their i-pads (yes take all the gadgets you want just leave me alone please) And today morning both got ready for school on their own. Meanwhile I was slithering on the bed, rolling myself on the heating pad. When we were in the elevator, both hugged me. Arav commented I was like a pokemon (i forgot the name) who has fire in his belly because my tummy was so warm. He kissed my tummy and said Listen uterus mamma has us she doesnt want more babies so dont trouble her so much. and he left for his bus. Can you imagine how mushy that made me? 

Anyway it did not take away my pain but at least I hope when they are with their partners they would be tad more sensitive towards them. 

If not they can always stock on chocolates and take the easy way out.

Of mothers and sisters

Few days ago we went out for dinner. Just husband and I. He didn't know this but for me it was our birthday celebration. Our birthdays which were a month ago. It rained like crazy and the 3 year old had a bad viral scene so of course we didn't have any celebration. The husband did not notice that. Birthdays are no big deal for him. But they are for me. So few days ago when mother in law was visiting I dropped massive hints about how he owes me a dinner and he booked us a table at a happening place in Bandra. It takes one of the visits from one of the grand moms for us to have a decent dinner out. I'm one of those crazy moms who refused to hire a nanny (which in India most of us can) A decision I quite frankly question a lot. At least twice a day. You see I'm selfish. I want all of my children's time. But I also want some of mine. It is like being on a treadmill. I'm constantly on the move but I'm forever on hold. You know what I mean? If you are nodding your head right now, you have children under the age of 40.

So anyway back to this dinner. I dressed up and washed and conditioned and gelled my hair. and clicked dozen selfies and sent them to my favorite girls. My sister replied "You look like mom from back when she was young" I knew which picture she was referring to. We have seen few of mum's black and white photos. Bell bottom pants and puff sleeved top. Long hair with just one snake like latt near her eyebrow. And kohl in her big eyes. She must be barely 14 in that picture. I tried to remember what I looked like at 14. I had to shake my head to forget that horrific image. I remembered the times when people have told me I look like my mom. When I was a teenager I would take offence. I thought it meant I look old. When I just had Arav I was embarrassed coz I thought it meant I'm fat. But now I know it is a huge compliment. To be told I look like my mom. Will I ever carry myself with the confidence she does? The dignity that her personality has. I dont know I can only try. I think of all her three children I resemble her the most and she knows that. She has mentioned it to me whenever I put some weight on. Meanwhile her opinion on my sartorial choices is this " Why are you so ajeeb?"  Just two days ago we planned to meet a cousin who was not well and she casually mentioned wear a kurti and come. I knew what she meant she did not want me to be ajeeb.

The same day my little one said "Aap ekdum maasi lag rahe ho" I giggled with him. This again would have offended me in a previous life time. Back when we were growing up if someone mentioned oh you sisters look so alike we would vehemently disagree. People always assumed I was the older one and it enraged me. Once someone assumed I'm the mother of her son while shes the new bride ( I was barely 18 years old then) As a teen ager where I was craving to create my own identity such comparisons would irk me. But today I'm grateful. If someone says you look so much like your sister I would take it as a huge compliment. Shes pretty and graceful. And she's highly photogenic. I think the reason Niv said I look like Maasi is because I was dressed up. He must have so far only seen me in my ajeeb avatar. So this must be a nice change for him.

Yes I would like to be more like Mom and Dee Dee. Not just in looks. But this is a beginning I think.

To Anupama

I lost a friend yesterday so we will be cancelling further classes.

I sent this message out two months ago. How funny it sounds. I lost a friend. My dear friend passed away. What does that even mean? Followed by I'm sorry for your loss. May God give you strength. Rest in peace. And the worst RIP (typed like that)

I don't want strength you know. I want my friend back. I never thought at 33 I would be saying goodbye to a friend. I thought that is something you do when you are like 70. 

Who dies on a Sunday? One Sunday we are chatting on our Whatsapp group and for the first time we all agreed on a travel plan. You said you would show us your very old house and then take us for a day trip to Dandeli. Monday morning I replied with dates and said Please give your blessings to this plan Anu. And then the following Monday I was at your funeral. How? Are you smiling at me right now? Are you happy where you are? Coz I'm angry. I am so so angry with you. Who does that? Leaves everything and just disappear. If you were here you would have counselled me out of my grief. You were the fucking counselor. Now where do we go?

Every time I scroll through my phone I see your pictures. You with your kind eyes twinkling behind those glasses. You didn't want to come for Arav's birthday but you did. And there are videos and pictures and you are every where. The dp of our whatsapp group. that you insisted needed to be updated. And how we all laughed look at Anupama talking about DP and shit. You were the most un virtual person. Anupama hum sabki Maa. We are coming to your house feed us watch our kids and listen to us whine. Always smiling always kind always giving. 

That trail you showed me one morning. You sensed I was sulking so you told me bunk yoga class today i will pick you up. We snuck inside that college to look at the gorgeous view. You told me about this red bird which is your favorite (I cant even recall its name) You told me about parenting and life. You said I am you ten years younger. You had this unhurried pace. Slow and kind, you spoke so softly. Where are we going to find that now? You said this birthday you will paint me a tshirt "Every tall girl needs a short best friend" Guess what my birthday is here and you are not.

You were so shy always in the background. You used to say young mothers need to be educated Shweta, they are lonely they need to be counselled. We will do it together. You do the advertising I would do the workshops. Now what do I do? You drew that nice logo for my company. Tiny Tribes. And within 15 days of my launch you went away. I remember those visits to the hospital. I remember the call you made me. I was the first one you called when Sam was not reachable. And what did i do? Nothing. I couldn't help you. Do you even know how that makes me feel? 

Every time I shower I cry. I find staying angry at you is easier. Coz otherwise I just feel miserable and helpless. and why should I? You clearly moved on, without so much of a goodbye. Arav says you are a tree now. which is very apt I think. I can close my eyes and see your face. I can hear your voice as you play with Nivaan. I can imagine all your expressions. And I wonder how is Aaryaman going to make peace with this? 

I know there was a reason why we became friends. You told me you don't make friends easily. Neither do I. There was a reason why you walked into my class with baby Aaryaman. and why in the last five years we knew each other only last year we got so close. I am happy that I was with you on your birthday. It was such a nice evening. We were surrounded by our kids and books. In that cozy corner of your house under that wise owl you painted. I thought you would always be there to guide me. And I cannot accept that you are not here anymore. Going back to your house has been the most painful thing. Parking under your building taking the lift upto your house and then finding your photograph in your living room, instead of you. Where you always welcomed us fed us awesome food showed your latest paintings/knits/plants. I cant even make myself look at that picture of you.

I miss you. I am sure you are in a much better place surrounded by trees and birds and soil and caterpillars. Please send us some love. I will try to remember what you said. Give it sometime. Time will heal everything. 

Till we meet again my dear, Goodbye.

An angry letter of love

Dear Arav

            I know I have been very angry these days. I know you have noticed it and you have tried to cheer me up. And today after you threw that tantrum I got angrier than ever before. It shocked you and believe me it shocked me too. While I was chiding you for throwing a tantrum over something so silly, I conveniently forgot that I was doing the same. Oh the irony! You are not yet 7 and I expect you to rein in your emotions while I at 32 have no idea how to do it. Of all the people in the house it is your emotions that affect me the most. If you are happy everything is wonderful if you are upset I am angry. That's too much responsibility to put on you. Is that the reason why you are not so sure of yourself? You second guess all your moves. Meanwhile your younger brother enters every room like he owns it. He thinks the world owes him a giant favor. I look at him with mild amusement and he looks at me with a condescending smile. He misbehaves and I brush it off. But if you have a meltdown my entire world goes upside down. I realize how unfair it is for you. I don't even want to say sorry coz it feels so hollow. Here I am sitting and giving you a lecture about how you refuse to change while I am shamelessly doing the same. One day you will catch my bluff. What will I do then? It doesn't help that you are almost as big as a 10 year old. I should be able to carry you and make you sit on my lap. But you are already too big.

See that is the whole problem. You come into our wombs and nothing prepares us for what follows next. You are a part of us and then you come out and still remain a part of us. You are like an extension of us. For days and nights its just you and us. We spend lonely nights and days feeding you and burping you and cleaning you and cooing at you. Your cuteness and our hormones send us on this frenzy. You are a sweet little helpless blob and we are the center of your universe. And then slowly and suddenly one day you just stop needing us. In spite of knowing that it is coming we are still blind sided. It happens to the best of us. One moment we are tearing our hair apart crying in our pillows of sheer exhaustion and next moment we are left gob smacked by your independence. This is what sucks about being a parent. Don't get me wrong. My heart fills with pride watching you grow up so beautifully but there is also a part of me which is left desperate and desiccated.

It is this and many other things that make me so angry these days, None of which you are responsible for, but yet you bear the brunt of it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm fit to be near you guys. I wonder if I am scarring you for life and damaging you so much that you need therapy when you grow up. I'm sorry for being a mean mommy. If someone was to hear the threats I shout at you guys they might arrest me. But my only hope is that every time I issue these threats to you with my best murderous looks the two of you break into giggles. I hope I always sound ridiculous and that you never stop giggling.

Love you always

Your Mamma.

My beloved Eon

Whats with people naming their cars? I never got it. A car is a car. it takes you from point A to point B. Its a non living thing which definitely doesn't deserve a nick name. I was so wrong. After having my eon for last three years i realized i love it almost like a pet.

Its a great feeling to be behind the wheel. It gives you a sense of power a sense of control. i wont even try to get into the mileage and horse power and all that. What i have is a very humble car. But its mine. and when I'm alone driving that car i feel so happy. but recently my bubble was busted. I banged my car not once but twice in last two months. and it was taken away from me for almost 15 days each time. And how i have missed it. The first time it happened i was clearly not at fault. Though it was a rude shock, that i'm not at all as invincible as i feel when im driving. The second time it happened it was a bad judgement on my part. And now i feel so vulnerable. Every time i go driving i'm extra cautious.

After what felt like an eon ( see what i did there) when i finally got the car back all i wanted to do was hug it. Like literally stretch my arms and hug it from all sides. I promised my car i would not let anybody hurt her again. But my husband just laughed at me saying I'm a woman i should not make such promises. First i got very angry with his sexist remark. But more i think of it more it makes sense. Here is my theory.

1.A woman especially a mother of young kids is always late. She's late for everything. She cant help it. It's her destiny. So she makes up for it by driving little rash.
2.There's someone in her car who is screaming or whining or crying or banging his head or puking or dancing on the seats. This can muddle decision making part of her brains
3. If she's alone in the car it is a very big moment for her. Coz these few minutes in the car might be the only alone time she gets. So she would want to play her favorite music and sing loudly to it and check her phone at the red light and roll down the windows to feel the breeze. This is like picnic for her which often leads to some irrational judgement.
4. Being in the car all on her own without being watched by the kids gives her crazy freedom. She would swear loudly even flip the proverbial bird. She might run over a red light for the sheer thrill of it. For her its like saturday night out. The only opportunity to let her hair down.
5. Her car is the only thing that's totally under her control. And that makes her deliriously happy and a slightly dangerous driver.

So the next time you see a lady driver just cut her some slack. Let her over take you. Issued in public interest

As for naming my car I'm still making up my mind.

Hold my hand

Where do i go when i feel like i have nowhere to go? I come here.

I sometimes come here when I'm bursting with something which i absolutely have to write down. An instant reaction .Sometimes i hold everything inside not letting myself feel anything. I just collect it all till I'm ready to feel and then I come here to make sense of all these webs in my head.

Last Sunday we rushed to the emergency . Arav had fallen from his cycle and fractured his elbow. It was a bad fall and even when he came home crying it was obvious that the bone is broken. My mind just went blank. Luckily husband was home and he made all the right decisions. While i just sat numb next to Arav trying to console him. I forgot my phone at home too that had numbers of doctors and friends. The hospital guys asked me my age which i couldn't recall for few seconds. At one point i even exclaimed oh no its his right arm to be quickly reminded by my husband that hes a leftie. (Phew!)

We got his X-ray done and poor kid was in unbearable pain. While we waited for the verdict , husband was making all the calls and i was trying to make Arav laugh. I was telling him about how i fractured my ankle and how quickly it heals etc etc. Just then we were informed a surgery needs to be done as the bone is pressing on the nerves. Arav had his milk so they had to wait 5 hours before they could give him anesthesia.

Fresh tears rolled down his eyes. He was being so brave and he just broke down i asked if its hurting too much and he said mamma mai marne wala hu kya? I didnt know what to say i just choked. But i told him not at all and no one dies of a broken bone and how easy was this surgery etc etc. I just couldn't imagine what parents of really sick children go through. It has to be the worst nightmare seeing your child in pain and being absolutely helpless. He kept telling me to make the pain go away. and all i had were empty words. He got tired of all the crying and pain and waited to rest his head. So i stood close to him and let him rest on me. And he said no mamma you wont be comfortable. This 6 year old child who was so badly hurt was still thinking of my comfort. I just couldn't imagine. How unselfish can someone be?

The hours that followed after were terrifying. The elbow had swollen too much . they were afraid that they might have to cut his arm and then fix the bone. My dad who is a doctor was with me but i knew he was much more scared than us. We were blessed with ignorance but he knows too much and though he was being brave for all of us his face showed the fear. Anyway the surgery got over and he was in recovery room. I sat there alone while others went home to change and get clothes etc. I watched him lying on that hospital bed . the green pyjamas were too small he was feeling cold so they had a warmer on. the pulse monitor kept beeping. And thats when i allowed all my tears to come out. I'm sure the nurse must be rolling her eyes as this wasnt exactly a life threatening situation. but from where i was watching it, it was terrifying.

We are home now and the cast is expected to remain for another six weeks. I am bathing him and feeding him and taking him to the bathroom. The younger tyke is not at all liking the attention being showered on his bhaiya, but hes being helpful too. I forgot how grown up Arav is and i also forgot how hes still my baby. Sometimes when i hug him he feels too big in my arms and sometimes when he cries in the night because he cant turn on his side he feels too small.

Finding my mountain

Nothing invokes the writer in me as June does. With its cool breeze, surprise rains, and all things lush its such a great tease. Also birthday. two birthdays actually.

This birthday as is the tradition we took off . Two crabs comfortable in our own shells. We went to the mountains. To the closest ones actually. It was beautiful. This journey that the two of us have been on countless times still feels new. We were here as newly engaged love birds. We held hands through out the 3 hours road journey. Losing sight of the road many times because of all the deep gazing in each others eyes. We stopped at various peaks. We let the clouds envelope us. We carried a book with us.  "Notes to myself "I read out random lines and we discussed what it means to each of us currently. I discovered that mushrooms do taste earthy and nice. I discovered how much I love the cool breeze in my hair. I realized I was being swept off my feet right there. And it was a beautiful heady feeling. 

We kept visiting this mountain through all these years. We came back with our first born. We came with our families. We came with two boys. Every trip was fun in its own way. We found ourselves back on this trip without the kids this time. It was different but beautiful. There were long silences and no need to fill them up. I thought we would catch up on all important talks that we cant have with two hyper active kids jumping around. But turned out we didn't have much. Whenever we did speak the conversation steered back to our kids. I think its easier to discuss life's important plans and decisions with two boys screaming in the background. The silence of the mountains is best saved for some inner introspection. I also thought we would catch up on the sleep. But those extra soft beds and the extreme proximity to trees and insects didn't help. 

This resort had a well stocked library facing the mountain. I found The old man and the sea. A classic that i only know of but never read. I knew i wouldn't finish it but i still started reading. That evening i got sad thinking about all the books i haven't read and all the movies i haven't seen and all the places i haven't been to. I felt like i haven't spend enough time with my parents and people i love so much. I felt like a lot of my 32 years had gone wasted. I thought about all the food i haven't tasted especially desserts. 

I was quite gloomy till i remembered the conversation i had few nights ago with my 6 year old. Before we go to bed each night we have to say things we are thankful for. He said i'm thankful for the 5 star i got in school today it really made my day. I asked him is that it or does he want to add anything more. He said no today i'm just happy about this. I'm completely happy about this. So yea I decided to be completely happy about the gorgeous place I was at. Also found a beautiful crab while walking back to the room . I stopped to click him and he looked right at me. I took it as a sign :)

Crab to crab

I have always been a lover of beaches but this mountain has found a special place in my life. Beach makes me gregarious while the mountain humbles me down. 

Those who travel to mountain-tops are half in love with themselves, and half in love with oblivion.

Sleepless in Bangalore

What is this called?  this feeling that you are forgetting something. That constant doubt in your head that you should not be sitting doing nothing. I'm looking for a word to describe this. I have discovered that I'm unable to enjoy downtime. Like reading a book or window shopping or going for a haircut. I'm convinced something significant or urgent or accidental is happening with my kids while I'm relaxing.

I'm not usually a helicopter mom and also like other moms past two years I have complained a lot about not having any time for myself. So now that I'm on my annual vacation at the in laws the kids are so fantastically taken care of. And I'm encouraged to spend some me time. I'm finding it very hard to do so.

I think the hormones that helps a mom tune into her child while tuning out the world also makes her borderline hypochondriac. When does this end?  when do you stop worrying about your children?  probably never.

It really sucks being a parent you know. Sometimes. It's just really really hard and you can't even like make a big deal of it coz everyone around you is doing it and they are keeping it together. Atleast it appears so.

So I go shopping today eat a lazy lunch and even go out for dinner. When I come back the little brat is asleep and it just breaks my heart that I wasn't there to put him to sleep. All I want is to snuggle with him. It is at this moment I realise I'm ruined for life now. These little brats have full control on me and I have voluntarily signed up for this.

All I can do is enjoy these moments when they are little and pray for some stillness. Thehrav. Something that calms my restless mind. I think sniffing my sleeping two year old might help.

Jump starting the new year

Hello everyone let me be one more person to wish you Happy new year!
Its contagious isnt it? This hoopla around new year

So we started the class again today after the Christmas break. And i was itching to go back to the class to see my kids. I teach a parent-child music class to very little children and i really really look forward to my class. It sounds a little crazy that i take a break from entertaining my kids to go teach other kids. But to me its therapeutic. I love the way the little ones light up when they dance and sing and groove along. It's like being in a rock concert with toddlers. I feel like I'm the rock star and they are my groupies (!!!!)

Anyway so today being the first class after the break and also Saturday morning things were a little slow the class started late. The kids the parents all took their time to warm up. But two of my very well behaved kids were in super naughty mood. These kids who hang onto each word i utter and copy every action had decided to just run free in the class. Needless to say moms were a bit taken aback. You know how as a mom we want our child to be the best behaved child in the class. And though i wanted to tell them its ok i couldnt as we were pressed for time. I kept noticing the mother getting really exasperated by the child. So here's what i want to tell you mom of the hyper/restless/chaotic/disturbing/naughty (not my words these are just adjectives i have seen mothers using) The following is only my opinion regards to my class not to any other situation :

1. It's A-OK: Music class is fun. Its not school. Kids come to our class to explore music through songs,instruments, movements. We dont want to restrict them. As long as they are safe (thats the key word) As long as they are not getting hurt or hurting others . Its perfectly ok if your child is running like a Kenyan on speed. You might want your child to sit down and precisely follow the instructions but your child is still learning in his own way even though it appears that hes distracted.. his ears and eyes are still on you.

2. He/She is a child : You know the cliche. it is a cliche because its true. Your 6 months old is a child. SO is your 11 months old your 2.8 years old your 5.5 years old. They all are children. We as adults have learned to mask our feelings. That is why we are experts at routines. We can go through motions. We can be an emotional turmoil but we can go about our day. Children have not learned that (thank god for that) They are known to behave exactly as they feel. So its not possible for them to be attentive at 11.30 am on Saturday when all they want to do is chase their friend or make faces in front of the mirror.

3. Carry on : Breathe and reboot. Carry on singing or dancing without shooting murderous looks at your little one. Dont be apologetic or feel guilty. If you continue participating in the class your child will come around. He/she will soon realise that he/she is not getting your attention by doing this and more likely to join you.

4. Loosen up : Music class is as much for you as it is for your child. Its a place you can loosen up and let your hair down. If you have fun your child is likely to catch up too. Its like going to a party minus the wine :)

I love my class. I love each and every child in my class. If i'm able to make the mom forget her mommy chores and put a smile on the child's face my job's done.

Looking forward to a fantastic musical year ahead.

As one mom in the class said "Let the music play!!!!"

A ninth anniversary post - borrowed

Not my own. But a beautiful poetry. Someday I aspire to write like this. 

Mouthful of forever by clementine von radics 

 

I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.

This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.

And I will not be afraid
of your scars.

I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.

 

Letting go

Like every year the much dreaded Diwali safai is upon us. I know most of you have already finished it but people like me are still struggling with it. Like every year skeletons have come out of the closet. For a hoarder like me this is a very difficult time. To decide what is important (everything) what needs to be given away (husbands clothes) and make place for new more relevant stuff. De clutter. Organise. These are words that i run away from. I know how inviting a neat closet is. For a brief 3 days after diwali my closet is clean. and then it piles again. It starts from something as innocent as the bill of the new pants i bought for Arav in case i might have to exchange it and then it extrapolates. Soon my closet starts resembling a refugee camp with unclaimed objects and i have no clue how to stop it.

The upside of this cleaning is nostalgia. I just love to clean the boys closets. always getting amazed by how qucik Arav outgrows his clothes. Neatly folding and storing the ones i want to preserve for Nivaan. Passing along some to other kids i love. Taking out bigger size for Nivaan from the storage. Remembering how Arav used to look in them. Thinking of the places we travelled together. The flights we took. Constantly comparing their childhoods. Reminding myself to not compare them. So on and so forth. Bitter sweet emotions.

There is a red bag under the bed that i look forward to and run away from in equal measures. For last 6 years i have removed its contents mulled over it for few days and then packed it again. This year i knew what needed to be done. This bag contains my new york clothes. My work clothes. My winter clothes. Both of which have vanished from my life since relocating back to bombay. Initially i kept them thinking i am on a maternity leave and its just a matter of time before i join work again. And i didnt want to give them away. It soon became clear im not going back to work atleast not where i will be wearing blazers and trousers. Still i held onto them like a stubborn child. These clothes are pretty much the only connection to that life. The golden period as i think of it now. My short lived career. The corporate life that i had just started to enjoy. The city i had just started to call home. The freedom that i never took for granted.

When i arrived in New york in January of 2006 i was a 22 years old big eyed new bride. I had never lived away from my parents and here i was saat samundar paar playing house house with a man i barely knew. New york was my first everything. It was my first taste of a life as an adult. even though we parted ways amicably ,NY and I, I still cant get myself to write about it.

But those clothes. The white sweater I picked from FCUK. Just coz it was FCUK. The calvin klein shirt that i found in half off aisle. The beanie and gloves i gifted myself from Macys. That red bag was like a time machine. I remember the purple sweater i wore in holiday party of my workplace. I was the brown girl from India who could speak good english who was a vegetarian who was already married at 22 and most importantly who was already a CPA. It was pure chance that i was a tax accountant and very surprising that i was good at it.

I wonder how people work for years and years and then quit it to become full time parents. I worked for a total of 3 years only and i still miss it. I miss my cube. I miss paychecks. I miss my work spouse. I miss dressing up.

Anyway so after a good cry i finally got the courage to empty this bag once and for all. It had to be done.  I tried each and every item one last time and gloated in the pleasure of fitting into some of them. And then with a big heavy heart i gave them away. But not before i smuggled two pants (which still fit and are not those horrible boot cuts)

So yeah. It was such an emotional experience that i have suspended the rest of the cleaning till i get over it. Writing this and may be reading a good book should help.

Happy Diwali everyone

Birthday no.1 of baby no.2

Ready to party

He turned one.Our little blob who still doesnt look like any of us.... (people say he now looks like his dad his brother my nanaji and his daadi) but i cant yet see any resemblance.....We reached that big milestone. Baby turning 1.... No more how many months old? now all i have to say is he is one. As amazing as it sounds its also very nerve wrecking. It was a birthday where nothing went as planned (when does it ever) and yet it was perfect in every way.


I dont believe in a big birthday bash kind of thing. In fact the first birthday party that Arav got was when he was 3 and in love with everything construction related. So we had a nice construction theme party where i went absolutely nuts. Anyway the best way to celebrate first birthday in my opinion is to go away on a trip to a nice relaxing place outdoors. Which is what we had planned but for variety of reasons the plan went bust. 2 days before the birthday. Now i was looking at the prospect of not celebrating Nivaan's first birthday in any way and it was making me gloomy. So after two nights of sitting with Google baba i zeroed down on few things. It was difficult as the list things i wanted to do was way longer than things i could do considering the time constraint. Picking the theme was easy. There always has to be a theme it just makes things more fun i believe.

T-shirt tales

A week before his birthday after making umpteen rounds of the local mall i realised im not going to find that perfect cute thing that i want him to wear on the day he turns one. So i turned to etsy devi and got my head full of cute diy tshirt. Challenge was how to pull this off as i have two left hands when it comes to craft or painting or even cutting a straight line using scissors. But once you are bitten by the diy keeda its hard to let go.

1. The t-shirt that started it all : My phone was full of diy images i saw online. I found myself a white plain tshirt. I knew i will applique number 1 and paint his name. but the major hitch was finding cute fabric to applique from. I had no time to explore stores. so i raided my closet but found nothing. Suddenly i saw a cute "first cinco de mayo tshirt " online and had my own light bulb moment. i had the perfect fabric. So from the back of my dusty cupboard i found the set of dining table mats given to me when i was getting married 8 years ago.I felt a twinge of guilt putting scissors through the perfect mat but it was soon overcome by the excitement of how perfect it looked. I also got myself few paints crayola fabric markers and gel tubes from hobby ideas. And while the little one napped I used my limited art skills to make the tshirt look festive. The effect was amazing i had in my hands a very cute mexican themed tshirt.

2. The inivitation that sealed the deal : I didnt have enough time to make the invitation (i would have loved to do that) So i just sent a text message to the total of four moms that i had planned to invite . It went " Senor Nivaan is turning one so listen up everyone. Come and say hello to our very own burrito" This i thought was very clever because when Niv was a baby swaddled after bath he actually looked like a burrito. In fact for his first halloween i wanted to dress him like a burrito till i remembered i live in New Bombay not New York and we dont celebrate Halloween. Anyway i was just happy to use the burrito reference here. Also this made picking the food menu for party really easy for me.

the high chair kit

a very cute idea

My attempt to copy

3. Decor that should have been : Tissue pom poms. Oh my god the more i read about them the more i was sure i was going to pull it off.....beautiful colorful tissue pom poms with a lovely birthday banner it was very clear in my head. except i couldnt find colorful tissue papers. So pom poms were replaced by bows (little lame) and banner didnt quite come out the way i wanted. Also i ended up buying a high chair kit which is the cutest thing ever.


4. The four letter word : CAKE. Yes i was going to bake. Even though my attempt at icing have always resulted in disaster i still was very much convinced that i will serve nothing but my own creation. So with lot of trepidation i began baking. the spong part was easy. i baked two and let them cool. the challenge came while i was trying to whip the cream. I was doing it with my hands and 20 minutes into the act i was losing all hope and getting a nice cramp in my arms. it was 2 hours before the party and i dreaded that i would only have to serve sponge cake. Add to it Nivaan refused to nap and i was on the verge of tears. Then i had a light bulb moment again. I stuck my hand blender in the cream and prayed that i dont turn it into butter. it whipped beautifully. But in my excitement to ice the cake fast i tore the top sponge. Anyways i kept icing it and prayed that it will stay intact. Which it did. it wasnt very neat or fancy but i was mighty pleased.

my inspiration for the cake banner

the cake that stood up for itself

5. The cake banner because pinterest can make you do crazy things : Seriously. I mean its such a non important thing. But oh my god look how cute. So i had to. And of course i couldnt just write it . So i printed and stuck and bought the long skewers and took a whole hour to do this. At this point i started to realise if im really losing the plot here.

Senor Nivaan

6. Props : the cute moustache that couldnt find its way to the t-shirt got turned into photo props....really easy if you can use scissors. Which i cant so it took me good 30 mintues to get 3 moustache cut out of black card paper . *face palm*

7. Food : This was probably the easiest bit as mexican food makes for good party starters, But of course it wasnt as easy as i thought. the avocado i bought refused to ripen. So there was no guacomole. The neighbouring fine food store which promised me mini taco shells said " sorry madam taco to nathi che, pan tame hai canapies try karo. same-ach che." Same -ach nathi pan i did try canapies and they were not half bad. SO we had nachos with salsa . canapies and mini quesedillas. No guacomole no sour cream. But i dont think anyone complained.

When the party started all of what should have been was forgotten in an instant. Nivaan was in a really happy mood. Other kids were having fun with some blocks and dart games. and the joy on Nivaans face when he smashed the cake all that was pure bliss. It made the two insane nights totally worth it. For next two days he jumped whenever we bought the cake out ready to devour it and thats the biggest compliment.

the king of my world

The downside is Aravs birthday is not too far and riding high on the success of this party im afraid im going to be losing it again very soon.

Hey it atleast gives me stuff to write about so no complaints :)

A lip smacking finish

Happy love day

Happy valentines day everyone….. Its been a real long time since I wrote anything….between the almost 5 year old and the almost 1 year old my blog got royally ignored. But today I want to write something close to my heart. Today being what it is it feels like cupid has puked rainbows and hearts all over my FB wall and whatsapp list. People have changed their DPs and status. Tagged their better halves. Mothers have proclaimed that there is no better valentines than their kids. Someone has tagged their dad (not sure if the said dad knows that he has a FB account). So on and so forth. And while its easy to sit and make fun of all this I for one am trying to enjoy all this PDA.

I mean yes some people can be really cheesy but is it that bad to put up a collage of your favourite pics together. Or if its your anniversary look back at the years spent and write a little something about it. Now every couple has one person who will be the first to update their significant others birthday anniversary or compliment them in social media. While the other act like they are not related. Seldom I see both parties equally excited. And I always end up feeling a little bad for the excited person. Coz that’s me I relate to them. Ever since I remember my birthday has been a big deal for me. Also i am the Subodh of my family. So I remember all dates important or not. Engagement anniversary , first kiss , first fight, first phone call. All of it. So I am the butt of all jokes. Im the dorky one who needs to get a life or grow up. Like remembering a nice event is such a bad thing. Meanwhile the ones who boast of not remembering anything or I don’t care about my birthday or valentines is a western thing or I don’t get why we need to celebrate our love only one day, these people are cool. Its almost like our culture celebrates negative emotion. If you are dark and brooding or reserved you have this mysterious aura. But if you are happy and sun shiny and expressive about your happiness then you are the quintessential dork. Its almost fashionable to diss PDA.

What is wrong in being mainstream? What is wrong in celebrating a day for love? To profess your love on social media or get flowers or bake a cake or write a poem? Its corny its cheesy its done to death but if you feel like than why the hell not? I love all occasions all celebrations. I think we cannot have enough excuses to be happy. Especially after Arav I feel the need to exaggerate all celebrations. Today he came from school and asked me to drive him to the mall. “Because I want to buy you something. Because teacher said its valentines day and you should gift someone you love the most. And its you mamma I love you the most and I want to buy you a nice nail polish. Pink or orange.” And that’s all it took for my heart to melt into a mush. So haters can hate and cynics can roll their eyes. But I love someone who wears their heart on their sleeve.

Happy to be sappy :)

Happy valentines day again