The hand that rocks the cradle...

Leaving one's comfort zone is never easy. The nervousness of stepping into a new world, of seeing and meeting people we don’t know properly, the perplexity of how to blend in when at times you simply won’t want to, the thought of changing and sharing your life and everything with and for someone else, and many such baffling questions and sentiments occupy our minds when we make the big shift: marriage.


I might’ve started my post on this note, but it’s not marriage that I’m going to write about. My life has been transformed beyond recognition after A stepped into the life partner’s shoes, but there are some things that just can't be done away with. And for me the first and foremost thing that is simply unchangeable is my dependence on my mother. 


A lot has been said about how a mother is the first teacher to her children, how she’s the epitome of love, care and dedication and how important she is in anyone’s life, so I’m not going to repeat any of that stuff. We know that already, don’t we?  What I’m interested in are the unique individual traits that separate every single mother from another one.


Having a kid of my own has now made me realise just how handful I must’ve been. I was a very fussy eater even when I was 25 yrs old, was a little brash for a girl, had mood swings which would come unannounced anytime, had demands which would never seem to end, and….well..well…I’m criticizing myself on my own blog, duh! What I want to convey here is that having to deal with me wouldn’t have been at all easy for her, but she did so, wonderfully.


She told me that my life’s decisions were my responsibility and I needed to be answerable for them. She never blamed me for not making it to the top. She celebrated my not-so-good results by taking me out for dinner, just to cheer me up. She was not just my friend but a friend to my friends. She was there every single time I was on stage, for anything, just to watch me. She sacrificed her plans to buy a new ring so I could get my earrings. She cleaned my room, even my cupboard at times, removed clothes that needed washing and replaced them, ironed. She never complained when I misbehaved, only silently allowed that teardrop fall down her cheeks, when I apologised. 


When I left my house for the first time, for pursuing my post-graduation, she cried like she’d never see me again. Although she slowly started pursuing her interests she made it a point to talk to me every single day, a habit she hasn’t left till date. My marriage was a very emotional topic for her and though she never mentioned it upfront I knew she wanted to find a suitable boy for me herself. I happily let her do the honours, and hence came my better half, the one person who could never be replaced by anyone. Am I glad for it now or what?


Even now the mother in her hasn’t let go of her kid daughter a bit. She still worries for the smallest things concerning me, but yes, her encouraging nature hasn’t changed too. When I told her I wanted to study further, she was elated and proud of me. She’s very happy to see the way I’m bringing up A Jr, and says I do a better job than her at times. Boy, could there be a better compliment than this!


So I guess, leaving our comfort zone is not that difficult, when the one person who makes it all happen is there with you, practically or virtually, through phone, emails or messages.


What more can I say…I’m out of words now! 

The Magic of Three

Wow...hadn't written since so long and another post so soon! :)


This post can be considered as a sequel to the last one since it deals with 'motherhood' once again. My little prince, who gave me the chance to be called a mother, who made me experience this lovely feeling by coming in my life, who made me realise that I wasn't a complete woman without him, turns Three today.


Seems like it was just yesterday (and I'm sure I'll feel the same every year!) when I held him in my arms for the first time. Remembering that frail figure, those tiny fingers, that angelic face, that immediate and almost necessary throwing of tantrums, etc. makes me feel like an eternity has passed since. 


I can't help but reminisce the time when his standing up on his own feet, his first baby steps and his senseless and unclear blabbering gave me a big high. I longed to hear him say 'Mamma' and understand and reciprocate correctly to my questions. I did everything I could to get him flash me his wonderful smile. I wanted the world to be at his feet and give him each and everything he wanted.


I had to be the tougher one too and instill discipline in him by creating deadlines for his television time and limiting his chocolates. I had to make sure he had his fruits and meals on time and tell him that a bag of chips/burger/pizza is not a replacement for chapatis and vegetables.(Even A had issues accepting these rules! :P) I took all efforts to make him realise the significance of listening to his parents and following their suggestions. In short, I had to act like the villain in our family scene.


But, but, I'm not one! So to counter my acting controlling he gets to sit on the kitchen platform while I cook for him and demand whatever he wants, he gets to choose which movie to see next, he's awarded a new toy every single time we go out,etc. 


God, I can go on and on on this, can't I? He's evolved and so have I. Time changes so fast that before you can cease the moment, it's gone. Who once rode a cradle is now in Nursery, and before I know it, will go to college and make a life of his own! Am I over-reacting here? Possibly, but in my place, who wouldn't?


I gave a Bugs Bunny milk chocolate cake in his school for celebrating his birthday today. My kiddo (who wore his new Popeye t-shirt and capris)who was looking like a killer hunk in the making,couldn't get enough of all the attention and was glowing with happiness. When I left him back and came home I almost had a lump in my throat and a feeling of pride in my heart. That, ladies and gentlemen, is A Junior for you!

Clutter or fond memories? You decide...

Out of the many things that are constant inspirations for the unabated cute squabbles between me and A, one is my habit to collect souvenirs. Ranging from gifts, cards, soft toys to college files, registers and even a project floppy of one of my dearest friends, I've carefully collected and preserved these personalised items that are inevitable reminders of my near and dear ones and the wonderful time I've spent with them.

A calls all this useless clutter, more appropriately a piece of junk that crowds an already crammed space that is typical to a Mumbai household like ours. It is only the prospect of seeing the very scary side of me that has encouraged him to retain all my gifts and cards till now, else they'd have somehow found their way out of my home. 

All this talk on old memories attached with such stuff has not come suddenly.There was something special that made me write about this right now. Back in school I had a pocket Oxford dictionary which I always referred to in case of any vocab related emergency, as is the case with any teenager who doesn't want to make any embarrassing mistake. It was my constant companion and I carried it in my school bag everyday. I used it regularly and it sat on my desk comfortably along with my course books. I had scribbled my name over its first page quite hastily, but two of my friends, both with a very beautiful handwriting insisted that they use all their calligraphic skills and tag it themselves, which they did.

To cut a long story short, I'd blindly packed it with all my other stuff when I came to Mumbai and had not sighted it till some time ago. I was cleaning up some drawers when I suddenly spotted it lying amidst a bunch of books. Time has taken its toll over it (also probably while being moved around by helpers), the pages are coming off in bits and pieces, the spine is separated and a brief handling by A Jr has ensured tearing away parts of it. However, miraculously still in place is the first page along with my name written on it, beautifully, by two of my dearest friends. The moment brought back memories from the past and left me smiling away to myself, all day. The fact that its in a battered state didn't even cross my mind. Useless clutter? I don't think so! :)

Wish I could make A realise that no matter now big or small, what matters is the emotion of the person behind giving you something. It is not something that can be measured in material terms. Some things might appear useless, but can still mean a lot to someone.Isn't it?

By the way this happens to be my 74th post. I'm glad I've reached this landmark and can't express enough gratitude to all my readers and blog friends who motivate me to keep writing. The next one might take long, but I hope to make it special. :)

P.S : I think I'd let you know that one of my friends who wrote my name on that dictionary was none other than our very own Nu! :)