Don’t let it in

 

An infant births, attempts to feed

A toddler watches, attempts to reach

A child comprehends, attempts to imitate

All attempt, fall then attempt again

Their minds alert

Their minds ready to try and learn

To fail and learn

The guardian stands tall, smiles and urges on

Attempts build confidence, ambitions gain strength

 The world is an oyster,

It is then explored; it is experienced

Years pass on

Novelty wears off

The child grows into a person

The person is now the one

With doubts, flaws and no-shows

 As the one attempts to thread a needle to embroider a fine silk,

To navigate a new car out on the road

To put pen on paper

A shadow peeps from the sleeve,

Its grisly red eyes condemning, admonishing the very effort

Struggle to dust it away for it crawls into the mind

Eats into ideas and shatters self-confidence

Criticism, you evil oppressor!

You spew venom before an idea can rise and flourish

The seed of doubt though dormant is now watered

In the creases of the mind wherein lies a grain of hope and of self-doubt

Criticism, crushes the hope, breeds the self-doubt

You let criticism in, you kill your skill

Kill the creations the future yet to behold

Stay strong, Let it sing

But don’t you let it get you

Flood it with your ideas, blinden it with your vision

Don’t you let it in

Let it parch on the confines of your mind,

Shine your ideas on the darkness, let it fade

Shine away

Think more

Create more

In the creases of the mind wherein lies a grain of hope and of self-doubt

You let one grow, you let one die

My makeup lives with me

Another day on its knees, headlights streaming the home bound streets, pretty faces rushing past; smiles galore never mind their fading makeup. I pull out my compact for a look; kajal descending from my eyelids, lipstick nonexistent, sweat lines gathering dust, hair flying out of the bobby pins. My makeup witnessing yet another long day for it worked itself dull through meetings, arguments, tea time napkin smudges, tears trickled during disappointments and pen lingered while in thought. Makeup working as hard as I do.

Oh, how the greasepaint crept into my life! The excessive talc and kajal dots of infancy were replaced by the daily dab of talc, only to be wiped off by the sweat and the downward glide of the oil from my head full of hair. School plays brought about excessive talc and lipstick overriding the tussle with parents at the advent of the greasepaint on my face and into my life.

Makeup was yet to arrive home.  

Till one day, a cousin came and got the innocuous eyeliner along. My eyes suddenly radiated more beauty from being darkened more than nature intended them to be. Then came the euphoria of the first mascara, thrill of a new shade of lipstick and the choice of a new nail paint. Makeup to enhance, makeup to cover up. The whitening talc, shades of lipstick, glossy glitter, deepening blacks; the scented cosmetics gradually - one cosmetic at a time.

The struggle of pulling the eyelids for the straight line or the right mix of light and dark lipstick shades to match the dress, the effort of applying makeup though time consuming was always desirable

The novelty of wearing makeup turned into routine over time. Adolescent years to now, from experimenting to necessity. Now my makeup lives with me, neat layer of foundation, talc patted in, thin line of eyeliner, kajal maybe, and a carefully applied lip colour with a hint of gloss. I peer into the mirror before leaving home. Happy? Confident? Feel Good. What does this greasepaint stand for? I’m looking good. I’m feeling good. Healthy to take on another day? The right makeup colour merging with my skin tone. A brush of talc, line of kajal and a dab of lipstick; my made-up face is as real as I am. My image to world, my identity among people and my feel good when I look into the mirror.  Makeup defines us as much as the choices of the rest of us lipstick shade no darker than your skin, a line of kajal as straight as it can be, bindi or no bindi. Subtle, gaudy, natural, glossy; one for every occasion. How it defines us, the excess of it or the lack of it.

Makeup has a say in the world. My makeup lives with me and works as hard of I do.

Why the need to build up a face? What does a clear, glowing face with pink lipstick say? What is about the plain face? What does a rich red colour lipstick say? Does dark kohl appear vampirish? Would I wear a blue eyeliner and green nail paint? Would I wear a dark brown lipstick? I do draw a line there. Why do I? Because makeup does define us. I carry my mood and my look together. As whole as I am in my one physical self, I look a certain way on a date night and altogether different on my way to the beach. My face is a palette of subtle pinks and nudes at school for my children’s school meeting while it is a party of vibrant red and gold during festivals and occasions.  

My makeup is part of me; living with me nurturing me through cold winters and scorching summers. My makeup has hid my blemishes growing up, adorned me as I turned from a maiden to a married woman, streamed from my eyes when touched with sorrow and left a sign of love with the perfect pout of a kiss.

 

 Anuradha Miraji

Every child is different

“My daughter didn’t sleep if hungry. Didn’t sleep at all. While my son seems to be sleeping through everything,” I was looking for some kind of an explanation from the doctor. “Every child is different, madam,” and that sealed it.

Years on, and my children demonstrated this theory, each in their unique way.

My daughter started school, excited and happy. New uniform, big pink bag and new friends. Little did she know that soon, the teachers are going to shout down her tiny frame “S write S”. “E within the two lines”. “Fast, you have to finish 2 more pages”. While she only wanted to share her drawing with her right side nieghbour and pinch her left side neighbour, who was nagging her for her eraser. Soon she disliked going to school.  Finally, they resigned in one PTM meet saying, “Your daughter is unable to write. See how the other children write. At this rate, I don’t think she’ll be able to fit in.” The other children in question went to pre-school, while my daughter was at home with mom busy with her baby brother.

Not that the comments deterred my outlook towards her education, I happened to read about, ‘Tiger Mom’. The Chinese style of parenting, where you (the parents) expect the child to (simply put) buck up with practice and rote if need be.

Well, before another teacher could point out what my child couldn’t do and worse still, in front of her, I started her lessons.  And not just practice or rote. Understanding.” How do you write, ‘Den’? - ‘da’, ‘da’.”  A change of school happened and we came to colourful classes, friendly faces, fun events and less shouting. As she progressed to higher classes, “Your daughter finishes her notes first and helps everyone in class, to complete their notes.” Phew!!! Smile! A silent pat on my own back ☺

She not only improved her work and grades but just breezed through activities and competitions. Not necessarily winning but without anxiety and always taking initiative (in class or birthday parties). In the process, she does more in a group and comes back more fulfilled.

And it translates to rock climbing, swimming, dance and play.

My son the ever enthu, bundle of joy simply tires me out. ‘Run, jump and climb’ is his mantra of childhood. And water is irresistible. But the routine of the swimming pool bores him. He has broken more toys than he has played with. But he will all by himself, unlock a tough automatic door lock and slid the gate backwards to climb to the top of the car. These can’t go on a report card and I’m glad they are not going for any kind of evaluation.  Some attributes, like moments, are for living and not to be put on a scale. So when he prefers to sit on the edge of the skating rink and play with his skates instead and watch the crowd skating by; I don’t worry cause he knows what the sport is and is there to enjoy it.

All of four and his teacher tells me, he doesn’t write and he only scribbles with his crayons without colouring. ‘Ok, a four year old, better scribble.’ I smile and not think about it. A year passes on and he’s scribbling in his sister’s old Maths workbook. The scribbling goes from page to page and finally he starts copying the 1,2,3 in the big empty boxes next to the numbers.  God, I couldn’t be happier or relieved for that matter. I thought to myself, ‘Let the child be.’ Each to his own. Without any acknowledge or discussion on what happened so casually in front of me, I knew my child will do just fine without the pressure, the nagging or the rigorous study routine; I had to use with my daughter. Soon, the teacher observed and his ‘I, 2,3’ shone bright in class.

When I stand by my children in their classes, give them pep talk and look around for engaging things for them to do; I also remind myself. ‘Art for art sake.’ Classes for joy, making new friends and being part of a team / a routine. Whether you want to stand out, let the child decide.

Life without a smartphone

First time, I panicked. How will I be in touch with – so many people without my smartphone? What if my kid’s school van calls? How will I know if the sky is hailing storms and I need to get into some bunker? The second time, I was genuinely stressed as I needed the smartphone to co-ordinate with a fellow mom for a school thing; pick and drop.

The third time, well, we just adapt. Don’t we? I don’t miss the smartphone. So I got a primitive phone without internet; for the necessities and mailed (from my laptop) the ones expecting or wondering why I wasn’t on chat. Luckily kids were home after exams and weren’t out of reach.

Apart from the necessities; I wasn’t surfing unnecessarily or for information. I didn’t immediately check on Angkor Wat in Cambodia for ‘1000 places to see before you die’ on TLC said it was a Hindu temple. Nor did I check a hundred times, for people responses on my Facebook posts and profile picture.

The phone didn’t fall several times with me carrying a child, water bottle, craft paper and the remote – all at once. Didn’t have to pull it out of my child’s reach and then search where I had put it safely.

I got time, I got peace of mind and a conservative thought that things/life/ emotions can wait. Was I more aware / alert in the moment? Well, have to check with my kids. Did I miss out on some jokes, positive thoughts, moral stories, lessons on humanity, nostalgia? Naaah!!!

Did I miss out on taking some pictures, worth remembering like the peacock outside my son’s karate class? Oh yes! But my conservative take on it – We saw it first hand J

Well, life without a smartphone. Living one hassle less, less charging danger, no censoring. One fragile companion less to take care of!

Women

She woke up thinking of her eight birthday,

Her mom bought her red bangles and

fresh jasmine flowers;

The sun had been pleasant and so

the water at the stream.

The sun was still pleasant but

now beckoned of work;

Of bricks to be laid and gallons to be filled

Gita yearned for the mornings with her mother,

Green fields and quite waters

Her son cried in his sleep;

She woke up in the dark

She changed his nappy

Wondered if he was happy

Cause wet it had been in her hut

Where huddled together,

Meeta with mother and brother

While on her rounds, selling tampons

and large size panties,

Little did she wander; to be back by sun down

For Deeru needed his scrub and a bowl of grub

She burned her hand, third time on a Tuesday

For she fried phulkas, one to a hundred

And butter did she melt,

On a hot summer’s day;

For her mother spend time for crime

Sheeraj fried phulkas in the day

and read History till late

Cause she hoped to get a job

and rise above the daily chore

Dark kohl and a strong scent;

She lingered in her broken high heel

Streets lit with lamps yet too dark for the eye

Long hours did she work,

with the crooked men

and clever miscreant agents

On days of spare, she tried to forget

Days of despair and gloom

Of school dropouts and swindling thugs  

For she had to work to fix the roof

And to send them to school

For Tyra, Meera, Hema and Sheena

Knew not of a father but of a sister

Who knew life could be darker

than down in an alley

The Train Station

She came to the train station

Looking for her path ahead

The morning dew had left the leaves; and she knew not if spring will come

Her hands were bruised, her palm held a silver

Eyes filled with pain but no time to cry, no shoulder to lean

The station was busy, the air was rough

Each train chugging by, each traveler hurrying past

Potters heaving, hawkers peddling

Not one did see the little girl

Not one did stop and ask

She sat in a cabin with powdered faces and hard looks

All she could do was move her hat and close her eyes

Before she could dwell in the loneliness of her heart,

she heard his voice;

‘Warm and concerned; genuine and dignified

Of happy thoughts and pleasant mornings

Sea gulls and wood fire ovens

Made of life, experience and wisdom

 Little did he care; for he could trade them for the sea ’

He looked into her soul and knew she had been waiting all along

Her smile warmed his heart, made him turn around and care

For she showed him, days of merry and dreams of cheer

The train chugged on

Leaving one station for another, one story for another

But little did they care for they found each other:

To seal a promise of love and care

To cherish each other with love and respect

Together they nurtured, together did they build

On hot summer days, as heavy fish he hauled,

Her smile made him smile, her call made him return

Cooking is a lot like love!

Dinner time and kids cry out, “No more the same ‘boring’ food.”
So out comes the Master Chef cap to try out new recipes. Part taste buds, part TV channel ‘Food Food’ and part healthy innovation gives rise to Chole Burger and Lip-smacking Cheese Macaroni.

Cooking is a lot like love. Deciding what to make, choosing ingredients is like falling in love. Regular pakoda or healthier chole burger vis-à-vis dinner date or movie night.
Well, for the chole burger, it’s very simple. Soak some (chickpea) chole over-night. Take these chole, one small onion, salt and chilli powder and grind in a mixie. Then shape the batter as medium sized patties, dip in cornflour paste and deep fry.

Now this is the exciting, ‘being in love’ part as the anticipation is just brimming. The mouth watering wait like the dreamy smile evoked by the lovely memories and the skip of the heart as the clock ticks towards the next date.

As the cutlets cool off on a tissue, I call to my daughter to assemble the burger. My daughter is only eager to do her bit in the kitchen J. Add the cheese slice for extra love and you can choose healthy green chutney for the tomato ketchup. Much like the dark brown eye liner instead of the killer pitch black one. Don’t forget the dash of lip gloss for a simmering date!

Daughter settles happily with a burger she assembled. I cut the tomatoes smaller as they are easier to bite.
Then comes the third part of the love relationship. The cleaning up, phew! This is where the beauty fades off and stains are hard to remove. Habits are seen clearer than the mole of the soft silky cheek. The complaints simmering like the hot oil in the pan and batter sticking everywhere like the incomplete words after a bad fight! Well, a cleaning up it does take and a good scrubbing too!
So you clean the kitchen, family helps with the table. Healthy meal for the kids, sweaty brows and a tiring smile.
A love affair like nothing else!

Another mouth-watering love affair!


With cheese, broccoli, pasta, olive oil, red peppers, salt, pepper, atta (for good health), butter, milk and lot of cheese again. A simple white sauce with atta frying on warm butter dissolving into milk and cheese. Sauté broccoli and the peppers add the boiled macaroni and veggies before you let more cheese melt in.
The plain macroni with cheese with for my cheese loving son!   
 

A letter to myself, 10 years hence

Dear Anu,

How are you? I mean really how are you doing, holding up with life’s many surprises and uncertainties.  Are you still making plans and researching about them? Trekking? Dressing up? Dancing ? Playing Scrabble?  I really pray you are! Are you popping tablets now and checking your blood pressure? I’m dealing with the first signs of low pressure and haven’t checked my cholesterol but I’m well and kicking and kicking like a horse! Pray you are regular on your pap smear test.

Have you made your will? Remember you wanted our daughter to inherit. 

I never planned too far in life but let me remind you, it’s been a good ride. I think I’ve come a long way from where I was ten years back. Hard to visualize how you are placed but can’t imagine the years leading upto it; be any less of a roller coaster ride!!!

Have you got your big stone house , a garden, natural cooling, arty exhibition, 2-month holiday in Himachal, hiking Machu Picchu, solar cooker, curly hair and a big dog (not exactly in that order).  Remember the under –water experience? The camping , cycling thrill,  Do get more in your kitty. Sure the world has geared up to your age.

I got those Godfather earrings made last year and the fringe this year. I think I look like Priyanka Chopra. I stop a minute to guess what your wardrobe may be looking like now. Have you abandoned colours and the boho-chik look with age? Guess you think of matching it with your greys, no escaping them now!

How is the anti-plastic war going? Aren’t you glad you started composting early? Give anything for my children to take it up with passion and devotion. Our arty-craft collection is still packed in bags saving it from our son; lest he destroys them systematically. First unscrew the accessories then bang the object on to the TV or the washing machine and then mandatorily execute the head. 

Are Ranbir and Katrina still together? With children I suppose. Right now they are boring us with their widely known secret of being together. Kangana is ruling with scripts as good as her acting. Shah Rukh still running on the box office and Salman’s out! But our darling Aamir Khan, just rules.  

Saina Naiwal is world champion and the e-commerce is taking the entrepreneurial world by storm.

Maggi is hit with high lead content. Wonder when the top soft drinks get some serious checking. 

Globalization coming home with internet and a much alert, aware populace and the advent of smart cities. What’s the new thing in money, do credit cards still exist? Don’t forget to note your card number safely in your diary, I mean the ‘write- with- pen- on- paper- dairy’.  

Now, we come to the heart beat of our lives. Children  (yes smile but right now, they are driving me crazy)

Does our daughter ask all those questions still? At 6 and a half, she is already the responsible older sister and very creative. Our son is the hyper one but knows how to get away with mischief with his puppy eyes and warm hugs. Have the years affected them? Do they back-answer and slam the door? I have  the “Mummy will do what she wants”, policy right now. Can you still get away with that? Would like to know how long that worked!

Pray they are laughing as much as they do now. Pray the hugs continue. Do you understand all their jokes? Their music and their need to disagree? Patience , they’ll grow out of it. Right now I’m force feeding them, Kumar Gandharv, Kishori Amonkar, ABBA, R.E.M, Bryan Adams and John Denver 

They sing “Jungle, jungle baat chali hai” with joy. And no I don’t force ambition on them.

Have you had ‘the talk’ with your daughter and your son (for that matter)? Daughter listens, just be calm but firm. Son the naughty type but I make him thank God for his sister in his prayers. Is he chivalrous? As of today, I don’t know if he should open the door for a woman or just be. But one thing I’ll always tell them, no ideology for family. ‘Drop your work/party and pick family’s bag, broken door, flat tyre, strained ankle or belated birthday’.  Would give my right arm to hear you say, I did a good job! 

Age it seems makes you bitter. Are you meditating out of it (cause that was the plan). Is hubby tired of travelling or is he still booking away? But yes, the plan was to travel and dance, so dance away! No second thoughts at fifty!!!

Is it lonely at home sometimes or the walks and the talks take away all the time? Do you sleep, crib, knit and scrabble more now? Just don’t get bitter. And if you have to get a walking stick, just get the most fancy and stylish one.

Yours always,

Anu

Dhoom Machale….!

A reluctant home coming to the city I grew up in. Few odd jobs; lots of interior designing and we were set! New school, new schedule, new people. Yes, a new set of people I knew I would love to know and interact with.
So the boy gang (husband and friends) hung out quite a lot and the women  ….well, we kept doing our stuff at my own homes. Finally, a day dawned and I formed a neat little WhatsApp group to interact with the women batch of the gang.

And we set sailing; well, a few of us really got surfing. And soon we met for a Scrabble game and potluck. Simple food, great spirits and a stunning wardrobe. The girl gang was making it’s presence felt.
Now it is a Dhoom machale group! No more ‘let’s see’ and ‘bai ka time hai’ excuses. We are simply eager to meet. And it’s always a spirited, enthu and a fashionable meet. Palazzos, skirts, LBDs, high heels, tattoos and high spirits.

In this mad world of competition, jealousy, one-upmanship, ego and straining relationships; you sometimes come across fellow humans, who share the same zeal for life. Given the zeal is shared by a group of women; spices the gathering further. Where else would  you play Scrabble, share recipes, home-made wine, spend precious brain cells deciding on what  dress each one has, watch educative movies, get tattoos, join Zumba classes, help children bond and dance crazy at an all-girls party!


Together we gel like salt and water but each unique like a surprise cheese bite in a tikki!

One teacher and cook, one professor, one boutique manager, one writer and one enjoying the new joys of motherhood. So what does get us together? Dance, Food, Movies, Games  nah!!! Plain women bonding to come together. I read just this morning that there are workshops to help people refocus, reconnect and hold your breath… ‘to find happiness’! Our ancestors would turn in their graves, roll in them actually; laugh out loud before they nod their heads in dismay. Happiness seems very simple when you make the time, hold a smile for a fellow human being, mean what you say and laugh silly!!!

Here’s a silent prayer saying, “Touch Wood” to our friendships and just an observation; “Who says women don’t get along?”

Dhoom machale!

Trekking, nature and much more!

Early morning waking in a bus, among a group of nature enthusiasts. Fun, singing and a short break later; I took my first step into the jungles of Brahmagiri. “It starts here,” I told myself; a promise that this is one among the many trips into nature.

And it was an important first one. The best of the trekking group, middle of the jungle with special permission, waterfall, scenery, campfire, zip lining, tents and photography.

Thinking back, life couldn't be better and life couldn't be more hopeful. I managed squeezing in my love for trekking and jungle between my kids, writing, job, husband and the haunting purpose of life. Yes, I squeezed in three days of serene jungle, pure air and water and camaraderie at the campfire. But I squeezed out a lot.  Fulfilling one wish, which was tucked away in some corner of my heart; I opened up a world of possibilities.  Yes, it was possible to break away and get three days for myself.

“But you have two children!”, was the steady query from anyone with whom I shared my jungle diaries not to mention my zooooooooooooin zip lining adventure. And I simply smiled, “Yes, I do. Two adorable children and my husband takes care of them when I go trekking.”

So what does this jungle experience give you? A lot of jungle (if you go during the right time of the year), lots of greenery, cool shadows, shrubs -twines-trees, colourful flowers, berries you've never seen before, different insects, pristine waters, beautiful good earth and different shades of the sun. If lucky, you’ll get a spider wrapping a fly in its web, snake skin left behind, some foot prints, which only the guide can recognize. But it leaves you with much more. The amazing jungle photographs, may be the materialistic souvenirs in your hands but the entire outdoor experience calms you as you experience nature is its best raw form. Moreover, life just seems simpler. Living in the wilderness, without the paraphernalia that we otherwise think we can’t live without. And not the cottage/tent kind of a luxurious outdoor holiday but a real basic one-with- mother nature kind.

As we left the next day, singing and laughing all our way back, we took turns to say our bit to the gang. Well, what could I say, “It was great? “I’ll come back for more?” Or that “nothing is better that being so close to nature”? All this and to that I added, “I want my children to trek, to see nature as it is and care about it in the future.” What a thought, Touch Wood!

About me:

“I want ear rings,” cries my little one (now 4 years old) for the nth time as I ignore her demand and lead her from my bedroom.  She wants my small collection of beautiful earrings to play with – adorn herself and her dolls J

At that precise moment, I wonder, how will my children describe me – to themselves or to their friends?  Creative? Short tempered? Great cook? Writer? Painter?

How will they (daughter and son) put it in words. “My mother came from a small town, (Belgaum actually not small!) but she was determined to work in the big city. Nothing really put her down for long but she had her phases of melancholy. I liked her best when she was relaxed and laughed her head off at the silliest jokes.   Once she asked the bai if there was electricity in the other houses, the bai answered; “It was there at my house,” my mom still can’t stop laughing at that joke.

She had a way to dislike the bai, the watchman and the newspaper boy; who landed up at the wrong time but always had a soft spot for the needy especially children. 

What I loved best and still want to own / borrow is her collection of earrings. Fake, real, small, huge, artistic and rare. Not to forget the many glass and brass bangles.  She had the choicest handicrafts, eco-friendly stuff and paper artifacts. All kept away to be displayed when we would grow a bit older and wiser (!?) so as to not break any.

My mom made cooking seem as easy as eating and she ate non-veg with relish. She had a knack to woo anyone, who came her way and kept in touch with her dear ones like a satellite – far yet just within reach!

Today, I see her losing her temper but every weekend, there comes some friend with a little one and makes my day! She can rant away names of great movies to be watched and plays classical music every morning. ‘You must develop an ear for good things…’

Good things? She found great things and weird ideas. Composting is one – she found great joy in composting kitchen waste and showcased her manure with great pride. Another was hoarding all our things small and big – my birthday cake doll (now only the head remains),  baby clothes,  our (me and my brother) first sketches & broken toys. Tissues to be used later and tit-bits from the waste to make something creative.

But can’t miss all those adorable pictures that she took pains to click and all the funny nursery rhythms singing – dancing session …. “Ek tha Sakaram, Ek tha Tukaram….” (in Kokani actually).  

Will they really remember me like this or criticize me to be over-protective, demanding and a disciplinarian? Is this good enough to be a good mother ……..  

61 movies to be watch before you die

https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B1PKoyJufOeWeG9nblVRUnlHSFE/edit

I worry

I put my favourite pair of jeans for our usual drive around town on a Sunday. Just then I hear , “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” silence; “Waaaaaaaaaa”! I turn around my son is busy figuring out if he wants to play with his toy car or bang it into the wall!
I should go out, I tell myself and go into the hall. My daughter is half on the sofa and half on the floor crying and I don’t know why. I really can’t say if she herself knows the reason, why!

Just then my husband come in and looks at her. Both of us grumble, grumble about the crying then find out- she just wants to change her outfit – the fourth time.
“When will she grow up?”  I ask my husband,  and I picture her all grown up in High School and I am free to do my oil painting, go to all the art exhibitions, hold eco-friendly exhibitions and read all I can. When we are finally in the car and my daughter is playing with my son. My son grinning at her, I think back. Do I really want them to grow and take on the world? Do I want them to fight and complete – for admissions, paint a masterpiece then act polite (PR) to sell it – to make a living?
Competition?  Highs.  Rejections?  Heartbreak.  Independence?  Loneliness.
Or will I like to keep them cocooned? Away from the world. Call ‘safe’ friends (same sex?) at home to play? Keep a fixed deposit so they don’t’ have to work under pressure? So they can paint for art’s sake; write for themselves. Not be pressurized by reviews, critics or empty halls.

Am I really impractical?

Keep them away from relationships – find them the perfect match myself. Save them the heartbreak and keep them from the mysterious of human mind, heart and behaviour? Keep them also from the goosebumps of the first romance; tears after an applause and the anxiety before trying something new?

So do I really want them off my hands? Well, no. Face the world; see friends / neighbours on their worst days? No. But I still want them to go out and experience the world. Explore life’s secrets and mysteries and grow stronger and wiser.
Will I tell my children to excel? No. Instead will tell them – ‘Get a job to pay the bills while I am right behind you but enjoy art for art’s sake and let no comment deter you or elate you off your roots’.

I will teach them to be sensitive to others at the same time strong to withstand a storm. Will I tell them, “Make me Proud?” No. I will them “I am proud of you.”

I am a Woman

Another day ends, the engine’s put off and I climb into my sanctuary. To myself and only to myself. I look at my reflection. Tired, dusty, tanned but firm and resolute. Hair ruffled in between deadlines, parlour and day care, make-up’s gone in the rush of the day. I undress – to me and only to me. To see a full-bodied woman, specks of growth in my arm pits; I loosen up to touch the elastic mark on my waist. My fitted bra comes off and I am glad to be a woman and a good one at that!
I remember the journey it took me to be a woman. The long haul of timid adolescence, nervousness of body and mistaken sensuality. But here I am through all the angst and the grind at home, with boys as cousins, work and relationships. And it gives me a spark. A spark I am proud of. A spark of mischief in my eyes, a spark of knowing how to bend the rule, how to make heads turn. A spark that brightens in the male competitive world and shimmers in cozy, comfort corners.

A spark that says, I am comfortable, being a woman.

I put my weary toes in the tub, I close my eyes. Remember my gym, I loved the feeling of that. The sweat that made me happy. Remember the Lo real ad for hair colour, the Aspiration liposuction banner; oh the obsession with body. Body in its true sense? Beauty in its true sense? Sensuality in its true sense? Ability to withstand the glare and toss ones’ head confidently. Confidence?
Knowledge, girl power!

The night passes by.

Welcome mornings! The gym rush. Baby porridge, potty and powder routine. Shower, blush, perfume, power watch and strappy dress. I pack my lunch, boiled water, tampon; my education, my first show down at work, the recent professional snub I gave my colleague, first byline – another day of head turnings, balancing egos and polite assertions.

I am a woman and a good one at that!

Where does feminism go from here?

I wanted to be a teacher all my school days, wanted to fall in love, during my college days and go to office during my PG days. In the process I became a self sufficent, practical, independent adult.
'Confidence' over took the akward timidness, reserved shy nature took to aggressive and pushy; sometime loud self assertiveness and the wonder in my eyes was replaced by mundane everyday practicality.
"I know," "I can do it myself", "I don't need a drop,"; my feministic brain never knew helplesness or submissive behaviour. "How am I going home?"; "You are so sweet" - alein words.
My prince in shinning armour did come and did sweep me off my feet but I lost on some of those mushy moments, chasing the stars; my prince didn't really have to rescue me. Much so I made the first move to capture my lover's attention.
And whatever fairy tale moments I did have, I felt, 'Oh, so guilty, why didn't I take care of it myself.'
So here I am, lighting a lone candle once in a while, buying a flower for myself, taking all my doctor's appointments, fixing the leaky tap, booking our vacations, handling hubby's work stress - without a day off! Phew!!!
Did Germaine Greer think of these while defining feminism? Does this make me a feminist, woman taking care of herself. Assertive, strong, presentable and independent?
And devoid of emotion sometimes? Don't feel guilty giving my husband the slient treatment. Though take his casual flirting in my stride, no tears lost there! Don't enjoy being the dependable agony aunt, who can take care of herself. Understand office pressures and lack of quality time only because have worked in an office before? Would rather be illiterate with an oily knot and fancy ribbon, cajoled by her lover to smile through her tears.
Where do we feminists go after this? While trying not to be a doormat, we become the rooster on the roof, pretty withstanding the seasons but unreachable.
I would anyday, go back to the days, where life was still a cramped book of secrets; waiting for the college hottie to make a move, awaiting a cousin's gift, expecting a pick up, looking for a 'guy' shoulder, asking silly questions for reassurance and giving teary explanations. Still like a guy to pay my bill, open the door for me and actually put his cigarete off.

30 plus

I get ready in my simple white trouser and sleeveless white top with hand embriodery, hair clean and wavy. My husband, already hassesled with work, drops me, baby and nanny to Levis store. Ooooooooh!
"I want my measurement," I say to the cute, young salesboy. "30," he answered, "What fit are you looking for?"
'30', it echoed in my mind; are you sure?
After half an hour, I walked out of the store with the latest black Levis piece and more importantly feeling good, confident and joyous as I wasn't left behind in the 'beauty-personality' businees; while dealing with my daily routine with naniies and household. I could still make heads turn!
On my way home, I pick up 'Chicken for the all moms soul', magazine for Aamir Khan's interview and a colourful teracota bell; ready to challenge myself like always.

Say 'NO' to plastic

I was already late, 16 bags, carefully crafted by my cousin sat in my cupboard for over a month now, I had to implement my plan. I got out of bed, made breakfast and got ready in a jiffy. My heart beat skipped as I reached the store - M.K Retail.
Without any hesitation, I reached the first man coming out of the store and asked him if he would answer a questionnaire for me.


Name
Email ID (to contact them if I do something in the future)

1. Do u know the environmental disaster caused by plastic?

Yes No

2. What does plastic do?
a) Kill animals, sea creatures after they eat the plastics along with the food in it
b) Emit toxins when burned
c) Release harmful gases when buried
d) All the above

3. What do we do?
a) Recycle - very expensive
b) Reuse - not practical
c) BAN

He answered my plastic awareness questionnaire, I had jotted down on one-side used paper from Siddharth's office.
"Name and email is optional, I'll use the email to inform you if I am doing something in the future," I clarified. As my first respondent finished with the questionnaire, I spoke to him about the ill effects of plastic; then meekly pulled out a jute bag with, "Would you like to buy a bag?". "No, some other time," and he walked away.
I went to my next respondent. Another middle aged man, reached the last question and looked up, "BAN? Not possible. Plastic has got into our lives." Sad as the observation / fact was, I positively told him that plastic has been successfully banned in some places and how making a small shopping bag change, can save animals living with us in our society.
A couple walked away, saying they are busy while others wanted to finish their shopping first. As the sun rose to the centre of our universe, many women made their way to the store and I got more respondents. A young lady smiled and said, "I'll buy one for your enthu." Oh yeah, I need that. She bought a huge jute bag and another cute, tiny one; one you'll like to gift someone. My first Rs 100, glad, my heart sped up a bit.
A couple walking out with Marie biscuit and toothbrush; agreed with my cause; with the woman saying, "I know about plastic. I am a teacher, I need to highlight this." "Will you buy a small bag?" "Of course," her husband came forth and actually exchanged the cloth bag with the plastic one he had just got. Smile!

I got talking with my people I met and eagerly told them how I avoid plastic in what ever form it comes. "I started composting to avoid throwing garbage in plastic bags, that's how the cows find them. I also use very few diapers for my baby, only for long outings." As they say, leading by example."
Women then asked me, how I managed the nights without diapers. "Numerous in-between checks", I smile. "Even I didn't use diapers for my child," the teacher added.

"I am an advocate," she paused with a cynical look, and removed a cloth bag from her purse, "I carry a cloth bag always but just lazy and sometimes not sufficient," as she already had 3 plastic bags in her trolley.

A beautiful woman in her forties, walked passed hurriedly but took time to answer my questionnaire. "Oh, I am into it too. I compost my kitchen waste." Oh the joy of meeting like minded people.

To another one:
"Oh, I have cloth bags at home"
"So you'll use your bag the next time you come shopping?"

As I reached my 15th questionnaire, I contemplated going home to bake my much delayed cake! Just then I saw a young boy looking at me as he walked with his parents to the car. Parents had a plastic bag each with just bought goodies. What better catch than a young guy blushing away? He ticked the questionnaire and slowly looked up. "Would you like to buy a small bag?" "No, maybe some other time." "A small one, you can gift it to someone," I pushed showing a bright pink one. "It's fashionable." "I'll take the this one," taking a yellow and brown one." another Rs 100 and I skipped my way home, happy , very happy.

Hope you are carrying your CLOTH BAG today!!!

Baby, Clothes, Stroll and more

I never thought I would find attainment in my homemaker’s role. From the usual everyday dal to the lip –smacking Jerk Chicken, I find my happiness in everyday things. I might miss my 7pm episode of ‘Friends’, but not checking recipes online. Is this change or just a phase?
Change brought about by the most important person in my life – my daughter. Eight months back, I just wanted to know how the ‘mother of all biological procedure’ will happen with me and today, I am engrossed in my domestic life; like I never was anything other than a stay-at-home mom.
Career etc seems alien to me now and all I can think of is the water for my baby’s bath and what’s cooking and what ought to be cooking for the next meal.
But the glam lifestyle attracts me still and I am always ready with a chic attire. Actually, I think I have made more time for it as my outings are limited and I might as well do them in style. Not to forget my curler for all those curls I wanted to get years ago. Spaghetti top and trendy jeans, low heels, no make up but an eye-catching stole for sure. So motherhood has surely seen me inventing; not re-inventing as I was never here before.
Today, I would rather re-organise my cupboards, spring clean, try a hand at baking (which is alien to me as sushi is to Kamala ben), crochet and not think about my career graph and life goals. I would rather entertain guests than laze away my afternoons. But hey, my afternoons were booked with one more important thing – washing clothes!!! Yes, you read it right. I absolutely love to wash my clothes. With my bai suddenly missing from action and loads of laundry waiting in soaked buckets; I could only get to washing them as I had fretted and complained about all the other chores. This only just needed to be done. Amen!
So there I was, juggling baby with cooking, one morning after my husband left for office. As the day began to unfold, baby got tired and decided to sleep. But I knew no sleep, my mind raced to the waiting clothes and I tip-toed into the bathroom. Scrub, scrub...rinse rinse; another rinse in Dettol and I heard my baby’s call. I rushed before she could be fully awake and as she slept, my wet toes took me back to finish the drying session. I took my wet clothes, squeezed the excess water and enjoyed the breeze as I put them on the clothes line. Gayatri aunty from the next building came by at her balcony and we chatted about her daughter's first born, Ganesh Chaturi and the missing bais again.
Happy, I’m done. My baby smiles in her sleep, sweetly, innocently; let life remain like this one movement. But there those eyes pop up and it's time for baby's evening stroll in the park.
'Papu, papu', the garden aaji calls out, mali nods happily, baby smiles at kids on the swings and I return home after two flights of stairs - back to my abode!!! Phew!!!! Tired? What's that?
Tomorrow's another day, another set of anxieties. But I am ready, I am fine; having the best sleep after a laborious day.

Of husbands and tomato soups

Blue lilies, calm sea, a dog at my heels; I look around and see no one and am happy. Yes happy! Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, goes my door bell and I wake up. Wake up only to turn around and pull my blanket over my head again... another day!
“Ondu tea maadi”, I hear my husband. Need to get up and drink it for him, scan the newspaper for him and share his thoughts on the latest news bite for him. I lean back into the sofa I thought would, fit into our hall and into our lives and give me happiness. As I lean back, I remember it’s breakfast time (for him).
Marriage, they say is difficult but I think it’s difficult to understand. What makes you happy? What burdens you? What keeps you going?
I return from office after a joke and a meeting; one deadline and loads of work. I enter my abode with carrots, capsicum, mushrooms, fruits and vanila ice cream. As my macroni boils and I cut my capsicum and mushroom; the thoughts from morning return to me. But they are all too unknown now. What was I thinking? This is my life and I love it. Veggies are done, tomato sauce is yummy, now to add the wonderful ingredient – cheese!!! Yes, I love cooking and I lovely life! Smile.
Chaos, redefined. No system problems, no editorial deadlines, no meetings scheduled... this is home. Baby crying for a stroll, NDTV news bursting into the living area, friends calling on the cell, hubby trying to make sense of it all – oh my delicious palak paneer just got burnt – Ouch!
Ok, all settled. Dinners done all I need now is a pillow; but would love to trade it for a pedicure, soft music – possible you think? Now? But I want it on a yatch. Oh yeah!
So I reach my pillow and lights go off, Amen!!! I think of Edison, Thomas Edison.
I still can’t make sense. Shopping with hubby. Sexy top for me, manly watch for you. Curtains for kiddy room, crystals for decor. Matching shoes for me, handful of romantic candles for us and a teddy for childhood sake. I’m done, I’m happy. I am a homemaker.
I wake up next morning, and type out my life to a friend – everything ok, everything fine!!!

Brrrrrrrrrrrrraeddddddddd!!!

Tired of the routine, I went shopping and this was no ordinary shopping. Into my 7^th month and not showing much, I made my way to the maternity section. One and two and no more of the expensive maternity wear. My mind was racing onto a new section – the lingerie section!!!

Aaah!!! The rows and columns of chic bras; variety, colours, laces galore. To top it all, I was armed with a good reason to shop for all the above. The salesgirl came by and waited patiently for me to look around till I asked her to measure me for a trial. Happy, I went ahead and picked one up, “My size, please.” (don’t expect me to put it online, do you? ;) Soon, I was in the changing room, trying it out… ooooooooh I simply loved it. I came out hungry for more and the experience, feel and touch was more to be left unsavored. After 4 more trials, I felt refreshed and happy…

Never knew such a routine activity can actually be so exciting and adventurous. Almost like a new discovery but then the entire pregnancy period is one of excitement and discovery. I am unaware as to why I cherish this memory so much… the nice auto ride to the mall alone, the helpful saleswoman and the peaceful billing counter, gives me a feel good memory; not to mention the many pleasant trials.

I again made a quick visit to the western maternity section and saw a young couple trying out fancy maternity clothes. Feeling a hint of loneliness, I moved ahead to check out the same. As I was deciding on a softest-pair-of-pants on the planet, with a flexible tummy area, I was distracted by something; something very alien to me yet intruding especially when I was on a complete personal gratification trip. The ‘husband’ of the nice couple was looking in my direction and with more than curious eyes… What???? I couldn’t understand, so you’ll chat up with me while your expecting wife is changing into her mod-mom suit? You want to know the trimester I am on or want my mobile cum personal number?

So much for a couple shopping, I thought and couldn’t help but smile by myself in the changing room at the irony of life even in delicate situations. I bundled up my possessions and made my way to the baby section for baby safe plug points. As I was making my way towards home, I was seemingly tired and the all-enthu, auto driver added to my woes with his bumpy auto ride; but I’ll always cherish this shopping trip.