Confession 1 - My weird reading phase

I have lately realised a weird and unpleasant truth about myself....now it’s not lately but it’s been a while I found it out but then like any normal human being I resisted the thought that I have some not so pleasant aspects in my personality....even more difficult was to actually accept it and then write this blog. 

To cut short the suspense ....the problem has cropped up with my liking towards reading some blogs. Well, it isn’t actually reading but the topics and style that was addictive and pushing my thought process on non creative channels. (Won’t name the sites as the problem lies with me than them). It’s almost same as introduction of Ekta Kapoor serials in earlier great television series like Dekh  bhai dekh , Udaan, Shanti, Surabhi etc....when she took television decades back...and suddenly focus shifted from independent normal ladies working hard to balance life and career and having a life outside kitchen politics to saree clad females scheming and plotting against their own families... suddenly any female wanting a career became a vamp in the serials....whew bad plots but high TRPs...ironical. 

On similar lines, my reading list - from classics and mythological thrillers changed to blogs about “poor “ female struggling at home, trying to be nice to all, no one cares about her (Why the hell are they are talking on same lines?), and after years of sacrifice , taunts and emotional atyachaar.....she finds respect and sudden acceptance .  And believe me , I started enjoying reading them... ( I need to get examined for this).

I write - what I see and feel and hear and think. So, to write on those lines was against my basic nature but somehow I had become addicted to reading these blogs and would scroll down to read more and more into late hours at night. It was like an obsession, to keep reading those strange blogs all talking of so called perfect Indian female, like Nirupa Roy of old Indian movies or a superwoman managing all alone. Though I knew i wasn’t being fair to myself and to the values I had grown up with but it was like an invisible chain of acutely feeling that sense of helplessness clinging to all those characters...and then that translated into a dullness of mind - a damsel in distress syndrome maybe.

This blocked my creative side. And I realised how can I write , that is have a sensible output -  if all that is going in is useless.....I mean the input is highly outdated. So, does that mean that I have stopped reading those completely...NO...I am trying not to.... but it’s hard to resist. 

P.S. I have other confessions to make...but at some other time...there is only so much criticism I can take even from myself.

I woke up feeling weird

It’s old world charm back again on television, reruns of popular series have taken our generation back into the childhood. To it add the completely new and threatening pandemic we are facing, it leads us into unchartered territory when we finally lie down to sleep. The dreams are a combination of news, serials, covid, ways to keep kids entertained and planning a life post corona.

I wish my dream was as simple as above, but I woke up feeling really weird - can’t define whether I was scared, bemused or horrified but the path my subconscious took me into made me understand - why I don’t write blogs on serious matters. You see after my last post on raising our sons - I kept on thinking about how would I do it, the situations I would face and how I could have written my thoughts better. ..and so on. Along with it , the same late night I was watching short clips of popular Hindi serials, Kapil Sharma shows etc...... . Here is a peek into my dream cum nightmare cum glimpse of a scary future.

My home had become Kapil Sharma’s show’s set, instead of Archana Puram Singh , it was my big photo...albeit without garland - just like that First wife of “ Hum Paanch “ serial. And then I see from the side door a female enters, looks at my photo and smirks. She turns around and shows me her newly styled and coloured hair and says “ Dekho mummy...Ji , I spent two hours in salon today,  You never knew how to pamper yourself,” . Eww, she is my future daughter in law and I don’t even like her hair colour. She smiles coyly and says,” I am so thankful that you never taught your son anything, poor man is completely dependent on me.....even to wear right clothes”...and then she laughs at her own joke. But unlike that serial’s photo, mine in the dream can only see and hear , can’t speak...😩.

Oh, suddenly Tulsi of “ Saas Bhi kabhi bahu thi” enters her body and she starts moving around the house ( I can hear the music playing in the background), showing me her wardrobe- beautifully arranged and then takes me to another - a disaster and says -“ this one belongs to your son”. Ouch.... then she shows me those home delivery menus.....to be used if she doesn’t feel like looking....”you see mummy Ji” she says...”it’s my choice what your son will eat....you never taught him to cook”. Then she goes to the washing area, shows me a pile of dirty men’s clothes - “these belong to your son....you see you never taught him to operate a simple washing machine. He is useless at home while my parents made me truly independent....”

“ This house is run as per me, poor husband of mine never learnt how to manage things at home and now from food to clothes he relies on me, Kuch to seekhaya hota...” . By now I imagine my son ( don’t know which one) in dirty T-shirt and lowers, waiting for food as the clock shows 3 pm....

The empowered female of the next generation , showed me what could go wrong, if I am unable to teach my child to be independent. The photograph of mine started vibrating and I woke up to my alarm. Feeling all weird, looking around- I gave a sigh of relief, for my kids were sleeping peacefully next to me- still kids under 5. 

P.S - I was thinking about writing on corona, teaching in today’s world etc...now am thinking whether I should or not?

P.S 2 - I remember the saree of that photograph and am never going to buy that one in my life.

Oh mothers - Give your sons the ground to land on...

The world is changing probably more rapidly than we can imagine or are ready to accept. Our parents’ generation were the starters of a revolution in the country, a revolution that saw girls coming out, pursuing their dreams, making a career , learning the skills earlier deemed to be a male’s domain. And boy, they succeeded and passed on the baton to us. 

We began with notions of gender equality or maybe the word is female appeasement, now this may get a little serious ( will take it up in later blogs) - we learnt it all, broke the glass ceiling, became super woman.. a package that dealt with career, home, kids and everything. Our parents did their duty beautifully, they gave us wings to fly, the strength to dream and courage to realise those dreams. 

So what next - is the task over? No,  If you look around you would realise that the task actually given to our generation is much tougher. While our parents took care of girls, it’s upon us to give ground to our boys. We needed the sky, we got it...they need ground - let’s  give it to them.

Now, what exactly am I saying? Well, of late there has been an advertisement going on # sharetheload by a popular washing powder brand. It deals with a sensitive issue - we gave wings to our daughters to dream, but did we teach our sons to adjust to this new female? Ask yourself.... a married working woman can not expect help from her husband because apart from social norms , the poor guy is unequipped to handle any task- be it as small as folding clothes and putting them in almirah. We have made men so dependent on us that it’s actually more detrimental to their growth than our well being. 

We taught daughters to be financially independent, take care of tasks like banking , finance, shopping alone but the sons remain clueless at home( mostly - though I hear some changes are happening).

As a mother of two sons, I urge the mothers of sons ,to ensure you bring up your sons as independent human beings, someone who can cook, clean and wash and be an equal contributor at home rather than sitting and thinking “I don’t know how?” The task is crucial and difficult, full of hurdles by society and it’s norms as it shakes the foundation of our patriarchal world but then learn from your parents . They fought norms for us girls to be independent.... let’s make them proud by making our sons independent. It’s time to complete the circle.

It’s time we give our sons - the ground to land on, the skills to manage house, the temperament of acknowledging the contribution of household work and ensure that mother of the girl your son marries says with a smile - “ wow”.

That’s when our task will be successful, it isn’t easy bringing up sons in today’s world, to make them ready for a future that will be vastly different from the present. We have done enough for the girls they are on the right track. Let’s start with our sons , coz only than would we have really repaid the faith our parents showed on us -

Educate a woman and you educate a generation.

Let’s do it, together.

She glares at me

There she is, sitting on my bedside stool;

Staring at me, calling me a fool.

She and I had a lifetime affair,

But now she says, I don’t care.

Her accusations have a lot of truth in them,

In chaos of life, my promises to her became a lie;

But does it look, as if she would cry?

No, but her eyes just reflect her disappointment in them.

She reminds me of days and nights ,

When we were inseparable;

The times when responsibilities had not 

Taken over the life’s loving preamble.

I wish I could tell her,

How my hands shiver just to touch her.

I remember, the excitement of picking her up,

Feeling that smoothness, and fragrance so unique.

I wish I could shout on the rooftop,

That I am in love with this -

Unopened, untouched often ignored

But always in my heart, part of my life.

But till I can, 

There lies my beloved book....

Glaring at me, 

Calling me a fool. 

I failed - miserably

I am a little upset with a lot of people and a few parenting websites. There has been an onslaught of activities to engage your kids to upskill them and make them enjoy this period albeit usefully. These include fire less cooking, hand-painting, singing, and what not. They tell you to follow a schedule, keep them busy, reduce their screen time, involve them in household chores and the list is endless. Did no one tell them - it’s lockdown period, no house help to lessen a lady’s burden, high probability time for home appliances to develop snags and please acknowledge that mothers are humans too...they need me time.

Despite all my misgivings, when the lockdown period started , armed with these sets of instructions , I started my mission - if those moms can do it, so can I. I picked up a planner ( I am a teacher, we love planners), made a schedule for my elder kid ( he is a grown up kid...all of four years 😁) and listens to.....no one. The younger one a little above 1, has high disregard to all my instructions. You see , my mission had too many hurdles.

So , I tried waking him up as per that schedule, because they said so, he told me to go away and slept again. So, I failed.

I tried giving him tasks as per my time table, because they said so, he ran away to play with his toys. So, I failed.

I tried to involve him in household chores - like putting away his toys, he simply ignored me and said he liked it that way. So, I failed.

Being a teacher , I sat down to analyse what went wrong and I realised -

1. My kid had an agenda of his own that included the following goals -

A. How to ignore my mother?

B. How to irritate my mother?

C. How to make my mother lose her temper (this is time bound task)?

D. How to make my mother pull her hair in frustration?

E. How to make my mother angry and still smile ?

His success rate was 100%.

2. For me I realised that these kids need their own space and pace to learn, enjoy and experience.

3. We have to allow them to get bored, only then they would look ways to channel their creativity and believe me they find ways and are great at role plays and make believes.

They need us to play with them, to talk to them, to make them feel what they are saying is important, leave them alone at times( keep a watch from distance), allow them screen time ( sue me, but I need my sanity). Staying at home all the time isn’t easy for them. 

Though is still try to involve him in an activity or two. At times I fail , sometimes I succeed. You see, the teacher in me won’t rest.

P.S -  To each mother on her own, you know your kid the best. Let’s enjoy this roller coaster ride called motherhood.

Aisa hota he

The combination of Indian movies and Mills & Boons is hazardous for the concept of marriage and romance in real life. We, the readers learn it the hard way. It awakens the fairy tale romantic notions of life , puts your expectations on a high pedestal and then you crash land.

The cherry on the top of this super awesome combo is that I am a 90’s kid ( ok, a few years older but I grew up in that decade) and we all listened to a staple diet of great songs  - lovely pop music era and singles by Lucky Ali, Shaan, Sony Nigam, Euphoria and so on. The lockdown gave me some time to turn back and listen to those songs again. One of my favourite’s is a song by Shaan and his sister Sagarika- Aisa hota he. A beautiful composition of poles apart siblings and their relationship . However while listening to it last night I realised, at this moment in my life, the words perfectly define the relation between my hubby and me . Aisa hota he.

We are truly poles apart in all our choices from hobbies to food, from dream vacations to how to spend a day at home. ( Mujhko pasand  Chinese khana and usko pasand chaat pakodi)

( Main padti hu books bahut  sari and usko pasand he loud music) - He wishes to be a DJ part time. 

I love watching Bollywood movies and he is still fascinated by roadies, no splitvilla...no big boss....no video games....pick any.

We are as different as can be and it brings out fights , frustrations, expectations and challenges on all occasions. At the same time these differences are the reason we are together because all this mayhem brings with it variety, spices, and experiences that fulfill the unknown blank spaces of our lives. 

He doesn’t read but listens to anything I have read ( not that I give him a choice to ignore me) 😉. I had no clue about a lot of gadgets but can listen to hours now about them ( as if I have a choice not to😔)

. 

We might fight /argue/ discuss on same points in circles for months for he never accepts he is wrong and i won’t stop till it is resolved. But these sessions also tell that we care enough to communicate. - Aisa hota he

I might not understand his fascination for wires but can live with it. He can’t understand mine with Shahrukh Khan’s movies but he has no choice other than to accept it. 

So dear husband the following lines are dedicated to you - 

Main tujhko, tu mujhko he pasand.

Par apni pasand alag he.

Main tere bin, tu mere bina 

Mushkil he akele jeena

Pyaar me in kabhi kabhi

Aisa hota he.

And before you or I pick up next point to argue/ discuss

” Tu right nai he Naina ( Atul), bas mujhse alag he.” 

-  Courtesy- Yeh Jawani he deewani

In love With My Life

My hair remain tangled ,

permanently in a messy bun.

Can’t recall the last time,

 they felt a comb run.

It’s crazy being me, 

ask my untamed locks.

Still in love with my life ,

It rocks.

My clothes remain unironed,

Piled up high in the ignored almirah.

Some old tops and a few faded lowers, 

Have become the dress of the season.

It’s maddening being me, 

Ask my designer dress.

Still in love with my life,

So what if it’s all mess.

My book lies unopened,

glaring at me, right next to my bed.

Cartoons, patterns and tracing,

Have become my latest interests.

It’s insane being me,

Ask the closed books and coffee mugs.

Still in love with my life,

Because of my cherubs.

I pull my hair numerous times a day, 

I shout and scream and then we play.

In between all the chaos, 

Their smiles shine like rays.

Still in love with my life,

Wouldn’t have it ,

Any other way.

The incomplete blogs

Finally I opened the doors of my mind, (lockdown kind of helped) found my diary ( yes,I still use pen and paper as my first medium to express - so sue me), picked up a pen to write down what I was feeling. As is a common habit, I turned back a few pages of the diary.... and what I saw there boggled me.

I had a huge collection of incomplete blogs staring at me. Some just titles, some with a few lines and some abandoned after a couple of paragraphs. They all were started at various phases of my life but never completed. I started reading them , one by one  - just to check if I felt like completing any of them. To my surprise , reading them was therapeutic but none called out to me to complete it. They were complete -  in being incomplete. Maybe they were a part of a process or just some passing thoughts.

Maybe everything we write is not for people , at times we write to just ...write. We scribble, we express , we pour out just to feel free...feel alive....feel happy. It works as a release , same way a dancer sometimes dances for just himself / herself or a sportsperson keeps practising alone.

Those incomplete blogs were release...from what I don’t remember but they worked because here I am - with a pen in hand and ready to write.

So thank you my incomplete blogs...you completed my chain of thoughts.