I have no wish to rewind my life

 I was talking to a friend a few days back, in the course of conversation reminiscing old times, my friend asked, “ Hey, how I wish we could go back a decade and relive our lives”. I probably didn’t respond as enthusiastically as expected, because isn’t it an ultimate sign of ‘middle’ age approaching that we want to relive our golden days. Before you conclude that my lack of enthusiasm meant that I consider myself eternally young or my current life is perfect, sorry to burst the bubble. 

I believe in destiny, that things happen in our lives happen for a reason, you have to go through your share of trials and heartbreaks to realise your true self. The last decade or so, was my trial period. I have gone through it, came out victorious, maybe my aspirations changed, but my experiences taught me a lot. There were moments of utmost happiness with periods of despair equally dispersed. I went through it all, and there is no way I am ready to relive it again, even in my worst nightmare, forget about wishing to roll back a few years of life.

Now, this doesn’t mean that life was bad, but just that I can remember  the good times by talking, looking at pictures/videos or just by closing my eyes. At the moment, life is so full of new things , that I ask myself - why to go through the same emotions and experiences again? So with the old part of life done and taken care of, I look forward to new experiences, new adventures, new heights and maybe new lows, but sorry my friend, get another on board if you wish to turn back life a few years.

So, here to life to come...welcome because I am ready.

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.