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!

On Being a Mother Tag :)

I'm way behind schedule on this one. This might even seem a hasty job since I haven't thought it through, but nevertheless I want to take up this tag that Nu had passed on to me a while ago. Consider this as a Friendship Day gift from me since it managed to break my blogging hiatus! :)

I have to list 5 things that I learnt on being a mother. Honestly and ideally the list would go much longer than that but the kind soul that she is, Nu graced us by attaching a decent limit.

Here's my five things:

1. Patience: This probably holds true for everyone. We've lived our lives as per our time and wishes but a child simply takes away your freedom and independence. You need to eat sleep and live as per his schedule and it can be quite trying at times. God knows it tests the most patient ones of us, but I learnt it! :)

2. Nutrition: Junk food is probably an all time favourite for all of us, but not when it is regarding your child. It is quite tricky to send healthy and nutritious food down that little devil's throat but persistence and some fun recipes pay off. Teaching him to eat good food is tough but somehow I've managed successfully till now.

3. Learning: As adults our learning graph more often than not goes for a toss. We're so happy with what we know that the hunger to know more simply subsides. It is such a delight to see things through your child's eyes and wonder about how and what drives them. It is like growing up all over again.

4. Smiling: Children have the kind of innocence that attracts even strangers. They don't mind smiling at people they don't know and are approachable. Although it is not safe to show this knowing-like attitude towards everyone we meet, a little bit of genuine courtesy is alright, even for us.

5. Honesty: We all lie for some or the other reason; to avoid uncomfortable situations, embarrassment, answering, or just for the sake of it. But children seldom lie unless we teach them to. I like it when A Junior comes to me and confesses that he broke something, instead of placing the blame on someone else. I feel encouraged to follow suit.

So there, a bit hasty, but a tag nevertheless. Hope other blogger Moms out there agree with me too. :)

My Valentine

(This is my first attempt at story-telling. Any sort of criticism/suggestion is welcome and appreciated)

It is Valentine’s Day. The day of celebrating love and all it entails. The day of happiness, warmth and affection, not only for your partner but for everyone who you share a special bond with. The day on which even the most unromantic person cannot let all the mush around him go unnoticed and is prompted to join the expressing-my-love brigade.

Misha is sitting in her chair quietly witnessing the activity in her crowded neighbourhood through a tightly shut glass window. In her hand is a red rose, now all dried up and flaky, but very carefully preserved in her personal diary over time. Her face looks beaten, her eyes resigned. The tastefully done room around her is in stark contrast to the gloom that is now an integral part of her life.

This day holds a significance in her life that no amount of words can come to measure. She wonders about the antithesis of today compared with her recent past. As she flips through the pages of her personal diary she can’t help but observe how a lifetime of happiness and grief can be experienced by someone in such a short span of time.

Her’s was a whirlwind romance. She was a young girl of 20, a Commerce student, dreamy-eyed, carefree and uncertain of her future. He, Sameer, was 25, a Computer Engineer, smart, intelligent, chivalrous, successful and with a ready smile. They bumped into each other for the first time at a common friend’s party. Cupid struck the moment they were introduced, but both were at such a loss of words that all they could manage was smiling and shying away. The whole evening went in stolen glances, indirect references and non-accidental run-ins until on a friend’s coaxing Sameer went up to Misha and asked her out. She agreed.

A love-struck Misha writes in her diary:

I love even your thought so much,

Can’t imagine how I’ll love you.

‘se even when I think about you,

I feel I’m missing you.

Before their first date was over both of them knew they’d found the ‘one’. They stepped into each other’s lives easily and naturally. They couldn’t bear being apart from each other. When they weren’t together they were constantly in touch on phone. They’d been together for almost a month when Valentine’s Day came. Sameer hadn’t planned it but didn’t want to miss a rather clichéd but very romantic opportunity either. He proposed. She accepted. Meanwhile, he encouraged her to get her first ever accounting job in a small firm.

Glowing, starry-eyed Misha gushes about her love:

My love for you cannot be expressed,

In the warmth of your arms I feel loved and caressed.

You are above all the treasures in the world,

Your love is a precious gift with which I’ve been blessed.

Their wedding was a low-key affair. It was a simple ceremony held in the presence of both their families and close friends. It was by planning, luck or sheer coincidence is tough to comprehend, since that too was Valentine’s Day. Both of them were over the moon and had eyes only for each other. They’d been saving for a rather unusual but immensely exciting and adventurous honeymoon, a trekking trip in the Himalayas. Both of them were very kicked with the idea and were looking forward to have a memorable experience.

Misha writes in her diary during her honeymoon:

Now we’re here it’s just so great,

To be there for the sake of another.

So come ahead and hold me now,

For the world we needn’t bother.

It was the first of the many adventures of life, big and small, planned and unexpected, domestic and professional, that they were going to share together, as one. Theirs was an ideal life; intimate, content and blissful. There was nothing more and nothing else they could wish for.

But just as even a bright sunny day has to make way for the night and happiness has to inevitably be followed by tears, their smooth-sailing journey of life inadvertently hit a roadblock. Misha was planning for a dual celebration, her recent promotion and their second anniversary, when that dreaded call came. As she listened to the person on the other side her suddenly rubbery legs started giving away. She felt the whole room closing in on her until she collapsed on the floor, unconscious. While he was returning home from work Sameer’s car had been run-over by a bus injuring him severely. The bus-driver had sped away for fear of getting caught even while Sameer had been profusely bleeding. He succumbed to his injuries even before help arrived.

What happened in the days after that is too hazy in Misha's memory. She recalls being surrounded by her grief-stricken bawling relatives trying to console her, their words don't register though. Sameer's garlanded picture that was put up for offering condolences was the one she took on their first anniversary. How could that smiling face ever fade away?

Today, it has been a month since Sameer died. Her anniversary present for Sameer lies on the table, unopened. Misha refuses to step out of the house or meet anyone. She knows she has to collect the battered pieces of her life and move on but it is too hard.

Misha’s painful words in Sameer’s remembrance :

The world’s painted crimson and in all its shades,

But my heart’s all dull and bare.

There can be no love or the thought of it,

If you can’t be here with me to share.

We swore we were one till death do us apart,

Forgive me, for I outlived my part.

Heaven or earth, you were and will always be mine,

Could I live without you in my heart?

I miss the smell and that touch of you,

Days and nights are alike, nothing’s right or true.

You’re too far for even my mind to go,

Tell me, there, do you miss me too?

As if by an apology from God for shattering her world, and a surprise gift from Sameer, she’s found out that the seed of their love has been sown. The dark tunnel has finally ended and a ray of hope has found its way in her life. She has received a new lease of life. As she closes her eyes and caresses her abdomen in anticipation she can feel Sameer’s omnipresence. Her Valentine, thus, has returned. Just then the Celine Dion song plays somewhere, “ My heart will go on…”.

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! :)

Books et al

Nowadays I feel blessed to be able to find time to read more than ever before. There had been a huge backlog of books-to-read and I’m glad I’ve atleast begun my journey towards bridging the gap between wanted-to-read, reading and to-read ones. There's just one small glitch, so many books and so less time! :)


I don’t know how people go about choosing a book but for me it’s a very tedious and baffling process. I somehow never go by reviews and pick up any book by pure instinct. No wonder then that many times my hunch is not completely correct and I end up wasting my precious time on books like The 3 Mistakes of my Life by Chetan Bhagat, Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coelho or Unruly Times by Prashant Bhavalkar.


I’m not a very literature obsessed person but I like to read sensible stuff. I prefer reading what I can follow without having to rack my brain for perceived meanings. I despise it when people think they sound intelligent when they add difficult looking and spelling words and twist the language unnecessarily. There’s a chance of the entire meaning of the sentence getting confused and the sequence getting lost, what good is it for the reader then?


Worse still is the current crop of ‘casual’ writers coming in. Any tom dick or harry who must’ve at some point of his life entertained the thought of writing a book finds himself getting backed by publishers who’ve started waking up to the fact that as long as they write anything relating to love it will sell. Quality no bar! Hence any IIT or IIM pass-out is seen coming out with some or the other love story of his/her own. The same campus ranting, lashing out at and by professors, clandestine romances, incomplete dreams etc is seen in most of them.


If some book does have a corporate backdrop then it sure talks about either super-achievers or super-losers, while in reality most people conveniently fall within these two categories. An extra-marital affair is suitably embedded in the story, anyhow. Simple sensibilities like honesty, respect, gratitude and empathy are blatantly frowned upon on shown in a dark light, almost as if they’re a crime. As long as it sells, nothing matters. Is this only what writing is about?


I do not wish to imply that all Indian authors are disappointing. We do have Sudha Murthy, V.S.Naipaul, Chitra Divakaruni Bannerjee, Mohyna Srinivasan etc who have a class of their own. Their books always succeed in teaching us a thing or two, if nothing else a few new words in English perhaps! :)


Sometimes I do rely on suggestions by people with a good taste and an even better judgement, like Nu, Titaxy and Swaram, and honestly I’ve never been disappointed. :)

I just want to say...

Let me begin with an apology to all my blogger friends. I haven’t been reading them of late, have been giving delayed replies to their comments and haven’t acknowledged their mails. Couple of my friends messaged me to ensure I was alright, so sweet of them! Am I blessed or what to have such caring friends?? :)

The fact of the matter is that I’m having some problem with my laptop which apparently (and sadly) may take longer. And while I’m dejected beyond consolation for not being able to come online for so long, not able to check mails, chatting with friends, and most of all, blogging, A couldn’t be happier. He says my obsessive blogging fever needed just that, a break! So not fair!

This internet hiatus has been good in a way though. Must agree, I’ve had a lot on my plate to keep me busy throughout. I’ve read at least four books in the last two weeks, celebrated A Jr’s second birthday, did a lot of shopping (again!) and spent some quality time with A. Contradicting my own words, this isn’t so bad. But the blogger in me keeps itching to share all this stuff with you, which cannot be helped.

So I’m hoping my laptop gets fixed soon, how soon this soon will be is a mystery in itself though. Till then, please do keep writing in. I miss you guys a lot and would keep updating as and when possible. Take care.

Role Reversal

All mothers are crazy, period! They exaggerate their kid’s smallest achievements, they feign indifference to people’s complaints against them, they adore their silly obsessive habits, they practice extreme caution when it comes to their health and well-being, they over-react at the smallest glitch regarding anything related to them, and…so on and so forth.

I’m saying all this while being well aware of the fact that I’m included in this generic but to-the-point indicative list of ‘compulsive-n-paranoid’ mother traits. What led me to suddenly come up with this? Let me tell you..

It so happened the other day that I was finishing up some work in the kitchen (grudging and sulking) late at night. While I was at work the father and son duo were having a blast; pillow fight, horse-riding on Papa’s back, cycling, dancing. Displaying extreme pride over being a good father, A said he’ll cut an apple for A Jr and make sure he eats it.

I was mildly surprised (and I swear I even blushed a bit) when A came to me with an apple slice and offered to feed it to me. Well aware of his habit of restlessly shoving one full slice in my mouth to save time (and spoil the whole romance along with ) I begged him to leave it aside for me to have it later.

What A did after that was completely unexpected! I thought I heard him tell A Jr, ‘Jaao Mamma ko apple khilake aao’ (go feed Mom the apple slice) but wasn’t sure if I heard it right. Right I was indeed! There came my cute little prince armed with an apple slice and the most killing smile in the world and extended the slice towards me. When I tried to take it from his hands he flatly refused and asked me to bend down. I obliged. I couldn’t believe my destiny and was almost in happy tears when he fed me the whole slice, no rushing, no hurrying, allowing me to chew it properly, all the while flashing that million dollar smile! *Getting all emotional again!* :) :)

It was a sight to behold. I wonder why it never struck me to take a video. May be some moments are best kept that way? I remembered all the times when I got all restless and squirmy while feeding him and felt immensely guilty for them. How true, kids teach us valuable lessons in the most unusual ways. And we mothers always take pleasure in accepting that our kids outshine and outlearn us, at any age whatsoever.

So, crazy justified??  :) :)