Home is where the Heart is

I had finally made it back home. The delayed flight, the extra few hours spent in horrible city traffic, and my few days of separation from my family was wearing me down. With each passing minute of delay in the flight, in the traffic on the road, I could feel my heart beating faster than ever before. I was supposed to have reached a couple of hours earlier. 

One would think whats a few hours after three days of being away, right?

Wrong! Every minute was taking me closer to being paranoid - even though I was constantly in touch with the kids on phone. Random negative thoughts crossed my mind 

• What if the kids are not well? I'd just called them... they seemed fine....
• What if they go off to sleep before I reach? ..... Well, it is a school night ...its better that they do... I can see them tomorrow.
• What if they were angry with me for being late?

 I was thinking of every imaginable thing that could go wrong if I wasn't there with them.

I reached the doorbell, and before I could ring it, I heard shouts from inside.

"Mummmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee......." Music to my ears. My little kids ran to me vying with each other to get into my arms. I had to switch from standing to hug my older one, to kneeling to get to the little one. Sloppy kisses and lots of deafening 'I love you's, I was able to disengage from them enough to get out of my travel clothes. I was so glad my husband had kept them awake till I reached home.

My older one, the seven year old girl, gave me a good night hug and rushed to her bed - she had school tomorrow and it was well after midnight. My two year old, however, had other plans. He snuggled up close to me and brought out his favorite book. And then he said something. Something that sounded like "Wound-wound-shircle" .......

I asked "What, baby?" And he repeated the same. I look around to see if my husband heard him too... then I looked at what he was pointing .... sure enough, he was pointing to a very large, very round circle indeed!

I shouted out to my husband.... "Did you hear that? He knows a circle!" 

I was happy and excited, till I saw my husband walk in with a smile.... he had heard it earlier!! I had missed the first time he said that!

Husband laughed and said, "He knows a Wectangle and a Twi-angle too"....... with a look that I usually have when I report a 'first time'. 

He then proceeded to hug me, and tell me we had so many more firsts to come - the first fallen tooth, the first day at school, the first scraped knee........ and we would be there, to share the news with each other. Needless to say, my son must have said many words by now.... but I will fondly remember "Wound-Wound-Shircle" for as long as I live.

This is a post towards Housing.com

Warm tales and cold Banana Fritters

This is a post written towards Housing.com 

During the course of living life in the urban world, life as I knew it had changed. People kept telling me that it was for the better. Yet others who knew me well told me it was but a passing phase, and I would feel much better. But I knew the truth - that I was moving fast into a routine where I didn't even have time to feel.

I was working hard, trying to blend in a demanding career, a family with two growing children, and still recovering from the death of a parent. The acquaintances in my life would have thought that I had it all - a career, a loving family and a happening life. That I was reeling under pressure to keep everything afloat, was truth only known to me.

It was during one of the much dreaded work trips to Mumbai (I live in Delhi, and these work trips added to my stress, as I had to leave behind the kids for 2 to 3 days) that I decided to finally call up a friend I hadn't spoken to in years - since we parted ways from college. Completely expecting the person on the other end of the call to pick up the phone, exclaim some nicety, and then hang up after a future promise ("we have to meet some time"), I picked up the phone and called.

I was in for a surprise. She insisted we meet - no, its not late; no, we don't have to worry about traffic in the city; no, the conference can end whenever, but Mumbai never sleeps. 

So it was settled - we were to meet, after 15 years! She also managed to call up other mutual friends nearby, and I walked into a cosy gathering of 4 friends. I was tired, looked as if I hadn't seen a bed or a comb in weeks, wearing terribly boring work clothes that were crumpled beyond limits. The reception I got, however, took my attention away from anything even remotely pessimistic - I was among friends. The same friends who cared not if I was successful in my career, who did not judge if I was a little conscientious than most parents, who was overjoyed just to see me.

The evening progressed into much lived, and relived moments of our growing up years, all the time we thought the simple problems in our lives would end the world. We had warm soft drinks and beer (the ice got over) and cold snacks - but it was the best meal in days! One of my favorite snack as a child was hot, sweet, banana fritters (called pazham pori in Malayalam), which I was eating (albeit cold) after years - the taste of that simple, uncomplicated dish brought out tears that one of the friends noticed.  

 As the night progressed, she started telling me about the difficulties that she had been able to live through, and goaded me to talk. And talk we did - late into the night, infact till dawn broke. And I discovered, rather, re-discovered my love of life. I knew I had a long fight ahead, but the stopover with people who loved me for who I was, unconditionally, put things into perspective for me. 

I got back into the stressful rigmarole we call life, but at my pace, with my priorities leading the way - I did not let the essence of what I had always been get eroded by what I may consider important; and I think I owe a lot of that to my chance meeting over warm hugs and cold banana fritters.

a letter to my Crush

In an attempt (a tad rebellious maybe) to be honest to the only thing that screams "THE REAL ME" - my blog, I continue to write truthful letters. This is the second one

Dear Complicated,

I know of no other name by which to call you, as you had always complicated my thoughts. I write this letter so that I may finally, honestly, claim that I told you how I feel - even if I am relieved by the fact that you may never read this letter, or the fact that you may read it, but never know that its you I am talking about. See? I told you it was complicated.

The first time I saw you, I wanted to see you closer - maybe look into those eyes that were so intriguing. Of course, the stuttering fool in me ensured I could not speak even a few decent lines in your presence. Yes, you were intimidating - and I don't say this only as someone who had my heart on my sleeve - you seemed to have that effect on many people!

We spoke - many times, as our paths crossed often. I guess I noticed every movement, every glance, every syllable from your mouth. I had played it over and over in my head  - in slow motion, wondering each time whether you meant something when you said random words, or passed amused glances my way.

You were tall - tall enough that I could spot you in an crowd. I could recognize the sound of your voice, your laughter - and your bike from a distance. I knew all your best friends, and even became friends with them. But you? You I could not befriend - maybe because I was such a klutz around you, or maybe because you already knew how I felt and didn't feel the same way.

I have moved on - life has that to its credit - I found my love, my happiness and where I belong. But you, my dear Complicated, will always make me dreamy-eyed and weak-kneed.

Love,

The one who chickened out.

A letter to my best friend

Before I begin this post, I want to report what happened to me for the last few months. I was abducted by aliens, who tried to test my IQ levels by attaching wires to my head. They then discovered that there was actually nothing they could find, so released me. I think they are a happy lot now, since they think all humans have the same level of intelligence that they found in me.

Well, that really didn't come out the way it should have, but what the hell! I have decided I am going to write a few posts without editing it in my head. So anyone who is still out there reading this, go ahead at your own risk!

I have been inspired to take on a challenge from a blog I have been reading in my sabbatical.... errr..... alien abduction. Shail's blog has been one of the blogs I have been hooked to for a long time. And maybe, this challenge might help me kick my butt to write a little more often.

So, about this challenge - its aptly called a 30 day letter challenge, where we write letters (Yes, those things we wrote - not typed - to people who stayed far away, or people who we couldn't talk to in person. Case in point - the smuggled in love letters). And the first of these letters are to a best friend - so here goes!

Dear B.F.F. (that's what they call you these days, I am told),

Till a time in my life, when asked to name a best friend, I would have rattled off a string of names still leaving me thinking that I'd left out a few. Those were good times - when the biggest worry one had was that a notebook had been misplaced, or that lunch time was still two classes away! But these times didn't last, and along came what they called the young adult ( the 'adult' bit being debatable) phase - where we made world shattering discoveries and mind numbing decisions. But the good thing was that this phase also brought you along with it.

We've all heard of love at first sight, haven't we? But is there something called friendship at first sight? Because only that could explain the phenomenon we had. First time we spoke, we knew this was way more than pleasantries, or even just hostel room-mates. We had what could be called chemistry - one that was explosive and soothing at the same time. Well okay... explosive for everyone around us and soothing for us when we got in trouble together.

There were fights, weren't there? Little ones that made us miserable and big ones that made us take irrational stands. But when it came to standing up for me, you had done it - whether  I was right or wrong. You walked with me, when it was against every shred of survival to do so. You fought with me to stop me from making decisions obviously clouded by love, hatred, foolishness or alcohol. And when I eventually did do what I wanted to, you stood there to pick me up and dust me off to face another day.

Life may have taken us on strikingly parallel paths today, with so similarity, yet so much geography between us. But the most wonderful thing about you and me is just that - it doesn't really matter how far away you are - you are always the first one I think of calling when I have a secret to share. I can only hope that I have been as giving as you are, in this crazy journey we call life.

P.S. You know we should have just run away together!! :-)

Your crazy friend

Why the Success of Queen is so heartwarming.....

The world and their aunts are raving about Queen. I had tried to keep away from as much of the review as I could - for the simple reason that I didn't want to create hyped up expectations. But it was difficult to do, with everyone talking, writing and debating about the movie, and Kangana's depiction of a first-of-a-kind coming of age film of a woman.

Ofcourse the film delivered - passed through flying colors on every expectation. Let me attempt a list without giving away too much of the story...

• Bang on depiction of the much talked about middle class, protective, loving, yet patriarchal family (asking the fiance whether she could work, the little brother tagging along everywhere she goes etc)
• Kangana's face acting as a wonderful canvas of emotions - shock, frustration, fear, awe, resignation, anger, realization, and ofcourse, disillusionment, enlightenment and sheer joy.
• The dream supporting cast - beautiful and bold women, sensitive and easy-on-the-eyes men. (yes indeed, there are guys that can make you swoon just by blinking their eyes)
• Oodles and oodles of inner strength and courage - not to mention humor

But this post is not a review, it is an awed realization that we have, unanimously, as a nation, welcomed the movie with open arms. A movie which has shown 'culture' and patriarchy on a lighter vein. We have not taken to the streets protesting that the movie has 'corrupted' the minds of our 'behen-beti'; or that there are semi-nude sex workers sharing screen space with the protagonist. We have laughed at the chest-beating auntyjis and the overbearing mummyjis and the confused desi-turned-pseudo-videsi groom.

 

In the theater, it was a welcome sight to see women and men of all ages living through the ordeals and little triumphs of a lovable young woman, who is an unwilling, unaware champion of equality. Yes, she strikes a chord with many of us, but whats more is that, she made us think.

 

This is a post written with a smile that comes from realizing that all may not be lost, yet. For surely, a society that can look at the portrayal of a woman breaking free of years of patriarchal conditioning, can, someday, accept that this will happen in real life too. Right?

Why Feminism is everyone's job

Spicy Saturday pick for 8th March

 Debates and outrages have been expressed for and against the 'feminism' wave that has been doing the rounds. And yet, if you go around asking people the meaning of feminism, you get answers that make you cringe.

Some definitions by 'educated' men and women:

• "Feminism is where women want to be men" - accompanied by a smirk
• "When women do not want to do any housework, or take any responsibility, its called feminism"
• "When they want to party all night like the boys" - this came from a so-called liberal lady in an urban household
• "Feminism is anything that tells the women that our culture is bad."

The dictionary says that Feminism is a collection of movements and ideologies aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, and social rights for women - not more, not less.

A corollary here - is feminism only a woman's prerogative? Is patriarchy only a woman's problem? I am guessing most of us, even the feminists among us, think it is. Unknowingly, we slight this very important revolution by assuming it is a woman's issue. Truth is, our patriarchal views don't seem to be subsiding in any way because we seem to think that this societal movement is only relevant to about 50% of the world's population (even lower if you take only India into consideration).

Because if words like 'equality' and 'equal opportunity' and 'freedom' are meant to be war cries of only half the people (who are unaware, sometimes unwilling at that) crusading for this, it will never work.

Thousands of debates - big and small, friendly and ugly, thought evoking and absolute bullsh*t - come to my mind right now. All discussions speak of how men 'ought to' be some way or do something because they are 'considerate' to the womenfolk.

We all know what patriarchy has done to the women of our land:

• the girl child is considered 'paraya dhan' and is raised thus
• dowry and marriage is the prime worry the moment a girl is born
• lets not even talk about dowry deaths, maternity deaths and child marriages
• unequal distribution o wealth and opportunities
• denied education or higher education
• pressures to 'adjust' to marriage and married life
• decisions on what to wear, where to live, who to live with are all taken by others

..... and the list goes on. I am not including here the macro issues like the rape psychology or domestic violence, which have their roots in patriarchy.

But does it affect the men? Let me rephrase that - does it really do no harm to the 'privileged' menfolk in our society? A few questions that perhaps the men may be able to answer

• If the men were not raised with the pressure of being the 'provider' would they have pursued their passions more often?
• If boys were not told that tears or emotions or vulnerability are a sign of being a 'wimp' or a 'sissy' would they have made better friends, spouses and parents; not to mention better citizens?
• In the urban world today, wouldn't it be easier for men to find partners who they can connect with if there were no patriarchal rules to follow - for them and the women around them?
• If traditional roles did not dictate who pursues ballet and who plays rugby, wouldn't many men benefit too?
• Wouldn't there be fathers who want to spend more time with their children while their equal partners pitch in to be the bread-winner?
• Wouldn't men themselves want to live in a society with added economic productivity and reduced violence? 

What we fail to realize as a society is that patriarchy did have a role to play in civilizations that were still evolving; perhaps in the nascent stages of these civilizations, physical strength was the only measure to decide who was superior; just like skin color was deemed to be the deciding factor in some societies. And didn't human race, as a unit, rebel against slavery, apartheid and caste systems? Why then, is the cause of feminism any different?

Today, defining roles, or confining certain roles or following different rules, based on people's genitals is just as silly as deciding to get treatment from a doctor depending on their hair color!!

And that, is the true meaning of feminism.

*let me tell you where this rant begins from - it has to do with the exasperating questions that 'educated' people have been asking me about refusing to differentiate between my son and my daughter. For them -

NO, I will not tell my daughter that dolls are more becoming of her than her brother's cricket bat.

NO, I will not expect my son to 'protect' his sister - because if the need arises, she will have access to her own brains, and be able to kick a** just as he would.

NO, I will not expect my daughter to rush in with a duster to wipe off spilt water - unless my son learns to do it too.

NO, I will not tell the kids that the Armed forces is a good career option for my son, and Teaching is the best option for my daughter.

Of Broken Hearts and Bonds

A young friend got his heart broken recently. Crushed to smithereens when a long time relationship did not work out. Of course, as friends, we all worry for him, and we all hope he comes out of this unscathed. This is not the only time I have seen a close friend go through a phase in life when all that matters is what they lost.

This young man is almost family for me and he is about a decade ahead of my son. My son and daughter hopefully have a long time before they ever go through something like this, but I can't help penning down my thoughts for them - whenever they are old enough to understand this! So here goes - for you, 'N' - and for my little Gs.

Dear little Gs (I know you aren't little any more),

Firstly, I know you keep thinking I am ancient and all that. Well, unfortunately, that's true - you and I, we are separated by a couple of decades. But maybe, just maybe, I may remember all that it felt to be your age.

You, my dear, are precious to me; and to many people who know you intimately. For us, you have a million wonderful qualities and a few flaws which somehow, make you more endearing to all of us.

Just thinking of you brings a smile to my face, and I find myself thanking providence for having conspired to bring you into my life. (ok..... I may have said otherwise at times, but you both KNOW how exasperating you two can get) Believe me when I say that I am proud of what you have turned out to be, of what you have achieved and of what you will achieve in your life.

What you feel today, is not something that I could take away, even if I tried. You might feel dejected, unsure and disinterested. You might also doubt the very existence of that elusive find called love. You may have a few bouts of I-just-want-to-sleep-out-this-nightmare phases, or a few days when you just don't want to see anyone smiling in this world.

But what if I told you that even if I could, I would not want to protect you from this hurt? What if I told you that this, my dear, is part of who will become in the future? Don't get me wrong - it pains me no end to think that you may be shedding angry tears, or may be working too much to fend off the pain.

But let me tell you what my heartbreak had taught me. It taught me that no incident is stronger than my own will to rise above it - as you too, will soon discover for yourself.

It taught me that trying to find my happiness in someone else is possible only if I am happy with myself.

It taught me that the strongest bonds in this world are the ones that you don't have to labor at. The bonds that seem to last a lifetime are not the ones that try to shape you into someone else - these are the relationships that accept you the way you are, but help you evolve into a secure, confident and truthful young man or woman.

But more than anything, it taught me that in the darkest, deepest hour, I have relationships that don't attach conditions to its existence - unconditional bonds that help me steer into actions or decisions that made me a better person.

Lastly, do not be scared to put your heart out there again, and yet again, my dears. For love, no matter how elusive, does find the heart that thrives on it. Oh, and while you are at it, do remember to laugh along through any opportunity that you may find - you wrinkle much slower that way :-) .