I will be the one who loves you, till the end of time.

Little Rayyan was playing Mama to his grown up 'baby' sister !

Hindu na Mussalman

For my children, when they grow up and if  they ever read my blog :

Tu Hindu Banega, na Musalman Banega, Insaan ki aulaad hai Insaan banega

The Week that was !

Indians, Punjabis, Muslims, Sikhs and thank you Happy Singh ! 

I walked into a fierce argument between the maid and Ruhi over the weekend. I found that Ruhi had called Kirti didi, "an Indian".  

Kirti told her, "Everybody is Indian".

Ruhi replied " I am not Indian, I am Muslim". 

Kirti said " You are also Indian" and the fight began.                  

I calmed Ruhi down and told her that Kirti Didi was right and explained how we live in a country called India so we all are Indians.                          

She kicked a fuss about it, said India was the name of a country. Just because we live in Saket, we should become Saketians ? etc. I was dumbfounded, my mind was ticking...how on earth did she know about being a muslim ? Who told her ? Did they explain it properly ? Why was she not curious about it?.                      

I decided to change the topic for the moment and look for a neutral ground to start it again.

Later, I found a quiet moment in the car as we traveled to her friend's house in Noida. 

I drew a map and explained to her the concept of countries and states. I put a dot each for Delhi, Bombay and for Goa. She was excited and wanted to know where Shimla was ! 

Then I  drew weird shapes to tell her where Punjab was and where UP was. I told her my parents were born in Punjab and Baba's parents were born in UP. That my parents were not just Punjabis but also Sikhs as they like to go to the Gurudwara, to keep their hair long and wear a turban and they are brave and happy people just like she has seen in the movie 'Singh is King'. 

She laughed at that. 

Then I said baba's parents were not just UPites but also Muslims which means they like to read Namaaz, eat Kebabs and wear nice clothes like Shararas, Ghararas, Sherwanis and that they are soft spoken, kind people who love art and culture. She wanted to know what culture meant. I simplified, "drama, art, dance" ( yeah right !) . 

I said I love to be Sikh and Baba loves to be Muslim. And we like each other's qualities so we got married and had kids. And so our children are half Muslim and half Sikh. 

So that makes you soft spoken, well dressed, talented, brave and a bit mad like Happy Singh. But over and above that we are all Indians like you are in class 2-A and Rayyan in Nursery-A but you both belong to the same XYZ School. 

She looked mighty pleased with that, giggled a lot and did a cartwheel from the seat to land in the boot of the jeep. 

Phew ! 

So there we are at the moment. I know it my bones that there will be many more questions to come. But I guess, I will cross the bridge when I come to it. 

Till then - Amen. 

The English language, Rayyan & Sunglasses.

We had gone shopping for a pair of summer sandals for Rayyan a couple of days ago and they sold both kids the most cheesy looking sunglasses.

                       

While I was paying for the sandals, a sales man walked upto Ruhi and whispered in hindi " Check out the new Katrina Kaif Sunglasses "! They both tottered away to the CatMoss sunglasses corner and got some ! 

Rayyan wore his through the evening till he fell asleep at night. Ruhi woke up the next morning and announced that the light in the bathroom was hurting her eyes. She brushed her teeth with sunglasses on ! 

When Rayyan opened his sleepy eyes he asked : My sunglasses ????

I said : You can wear them to to school today.

Rayyan : When is Today ?

Me : What kind of a question is that ? TODAY is TODAY. AAJ.

Rayyan : OH OK

Why I love being a Mommy !

Nat tagged me to do this. In fact I  was just waiting to be asked since I think I have this unique mommy feeling. Just like all the other mommies in the world !:) Thanks Nat.

Motherhood defines me. If I had only one thing to say about myself - I'd say I am a Mother. More than Wife, Daughter, Friend, Colleague, Sister...even more than Myself. That's a goddamn loser thing to say but its the honest truth even if I try to escape it. 

As things stand today, anything remaining of my own me-only life is squeezed out of what my children allow. If its a movie, its got to be the graveyard show, if its a dinner date bedtime is sacrosanct and I can only make it on days when there is no school next morning. Usually anything that does not involve kids does not happen on my weekends, however interesting, urgent important it may be, my laptop bag's got pink gum stuck to it and it won't come off.  My office desk has silly artworks from my kids and a gibberish letter Ruhi wrote to me last year. There is Boomer chewing gum and Cadbury Gems in my laptop pocket. My ipod's got Lion King music. I got no ambition and each time my boss asks me what I really want to do, my career plan ahead, I have twenty things in my head that just add up to being with my children some more. 

I suspect I do not deserve the love and attention of my husband, or my mother's affection or the space that my work allows me...or...or...since motherhood has devoured my life, every bit and piece of it and my mind is always wrapped up in diapers, homework, dental appointments, holiday plans, bedtime, household chores and vaccinations. BUT.... I'd have it no other way ! 

Why???

Because : )

1. It gives me the ONLY chance to re- live my childhood and micro manage it too. I never had much of a child hood anyway, so this is my trip back in time to set it alright. Its like healing. I google for music, games, nursery rhymes, fairy tales, play date ideas, origami - anything the doctor ordered for the perfect little made to order childhood. I do not want my kids to miss out on all that I missed. And I take it too far because in that perfect set up is a mother who never gets flustered and always delivers ! So never mind that it has given me high blood pressure, I love my event management job here !

 

2. I can blame all the weird quirks in my kids to my husband, his extended family and the ancestors.  Some riddance to the angst of having an alien - alien marriage ! So Ruhi is a hypochondriac and a sissy just like them  and Rayyan talks too much just like them and if anyone calls them good looking or bright or funny, well Ahem that could be because of my side ! I just love that fishing for ourselves in the little ones, whether we be there or not.

3. The feeling that I am super human ! Sometimes over weekends and school holidays when Ruhi is screaming her lungs out and Rayyan has poured toy buckets of water over my wood floor and they are tearing each others hair apart while I am trying to juggle stuff like fixing breakfast for house guests (my house could well be a guest house), telling the clueless maid what to do, and there is no milk in the fridge plus my phone is ringing, I feel a strong urge to run away from it all. You know just pick up my bag and car keys and GO. But thats never an option and it always blows over. And after every evening of driving back from work, feeding them dinner, bathing, homework, packing school bag, bed time stories, crisis (what's plural for crisis?) and tantrums I end up completely exhausted and nearly brain dead. But later when the house has gone off to sleep, I peer over their angelic faces, and I feel special and strong. Its worth it I know and in a few years the physical ordeal should be over and I can be easy on myself. Or so I hope.

4. Its made me a better human being ! Yup, I am more PATIENT, caring, honest, responsible, humane and all that blah. The motions of pregnancy and the idea of their complete dependance on me for everything and the responsibility for these tiny fragile lives has transformed me forever. I feel changed, not just fat and stretch marked but other crazy things I imagine - like I feel my hands look different - hard working, clipped nails, almost the doctor's hands and I don't miss the nail paint and manicures. The expression that see in my pics is different. Thats not the me I knew 7 years ago. Some where along the way, motherhood has also made me sensitive to my relationship with my own mother. Its made me respect and appreciate that invisible all encompassing thing called 'mothering' that we take for-granted, till we bear children of our own. She never got a thing alright but she is my mother and I know she must have tried. 

5. And lastly because it feels like heaven to be fussed over by my children. Sometimes when I come home from work Ruhi grabs my bags and lugs them to the room. I know she would have made the bed for me and some nimbu-pani. But of course the linen from the cupboard would be strewn on the floor and the lime peel and water would be all over the dining table but just that act of absolute affection turns everything else out of focus. Or when little Rayyan comes running like a rocket, wraps himself around my legs and does war hoops to celebrate my coming back home. Or that soft, wet kisses that he generously plants on my cheeks on demand. Or when Ruhi gently runs her hand over my forehead after a long day. Their silly gifts and notes. Nothing compares. Nothing ! 

Hmmmmm...as usual I deliver mush ! 

I would love to hear what these mommies  around the world have to say :

Priya in Suburbia 

Peanut's mother in India 

Coma Girl in New York? 

If you are doing this tag, please remember :

Guys, post 5 things that you love about being a mom/dad) and find someone to link to and tag - someone from your own country, if you like, but definitely someone from another country ..and to leave a link to the post at HBM,  who started this tag. 

Four years just slipped by...

It was little Rayyan's 4th birthday on Saturday. We indulged him a lot and let him play King for the day. He lazed around the house like a pampered kitten as his sister fretted and fumed over party clothes to wear, games to play, balloons, candles, cake, music...if there was nothing left for fretting she would start inventing things.

I have an easy going relationship with my son. I have never had to work too hard to please him like I struggle to please his sister. Something as simple as pink lipstick on me makes him happy. Salwar Kameez after several westerns' days makes him happy. Fooling around makes him happy and the best time I've had in many years was day before yesterday when we both lay on our backs on the grass in the colony park and shouted like crazy at airplanes above our heads to "PLEASE please please pick us up ". He is funny and chilled out and  just like him, his four birthdays have been no-fuss too ! 

Except that I doubt if Rayyan fully understands how birthdays work since when the colony kids trickled in he happily grabbed the gifts and sweetly asked them to leave. I took him into a corner and asked him the matter. With all earnestness he told me that it was "his birthday" and he does not understand why other children should party. I explained to him how birthdays work but nada ! He opened the gifts and like a squirrel holed his stuff into some corner and waited for some more. His sister made herself pretty and entertained the little guests as per her plan. She has always been the party pro !


He cut his cake and then licked some. And happily repeated 'happy birthday' after every one who came over for dinner. It was a full house and a long day for me but he was up well past midnight, chirpy and full of beans. Long past I dropped dead to the world, till he quietly snuggled up to me with his favourite blue blanket and slept between my legs like a kitten ! 

p. s. Beats me why is he never the 'puppy' but always the 'Kitten' !

Tickle this !

Non Quantifiable Acts of kindness (or whatever)

In the movie Little Zizou, the little boy's technology geek older brother finally confronts his debauched father and calls him @#$%^&" humbug".

The father tell him how ungrateful the boy is and that he had taken care of the boy when he was ill (silence), brought him up (silence), kept him the house (silence) and even gave him a scooter to ride. At the last one, the technology geek older brother breaks into a wicked toothy smile as he dramatically takes out the scooter keys from his front pocket and shoves them in his father's shirt pocket saying something to the effect " so take it back now".

The boys pack stuff, pick up mom's b/w photograph and leave the house banging the door shut on the humbug dad. Feels good ! Retribution for that X@#$CV of a father.

I could not get over that bit for a long time after the scene was over. My brain was in a churn and I was thinking how it is a familiar feeling to return stuff to offending party ( OP) in any relationship - wedding rings, house, love notes, photographs, gifts of love, money..and that kind of squares up the equation. Its like, " here you wanted to be nice, romantic, loving, caring, condescending, kind to me, but now you can take it all back. I am rejecting your favours". But in case the OP has not just 'GIVEN' but instead 'DONE' stuff for you - Noun Vs Verb kind of thing :) the climate changes.

For example : 1) I took care of you 2) I stood by you 3) I was there when you needed me 4) I brought you up 5) I stayed awake the nights when you had Colic 6 ) I paid for your education 7) I tolerated your bad behaviour 8 ) I listened to you - ad infinitum. In such situations there is no way one can say, "hey I am going to do the same to you just now and square up".

These 'non quantifiable' acts of kindness can often be used like weapons in relationships. I pondered more over the next fist of popcorn and realised how I do it, most often telling my poor husband how I have "stood by him" through bad times. I've noticed how that shuts up any conversation. Thats like hitting the stumps since I presume he gets eternally burdened by that statement. I would too. I am sure if there was any measurable device of 'standing by' someone, he would just do it and square up on this for once.

It also set me thinking that I have with much effort in fact, stayed clear from being too often at the receiving end of '"I have DONE this for you" situations ! With of course the obvious exception of my parents. No one ever wanted to do favours for me, luckily so.

My Dad payed a capitation fee for my brother to study engineering & Bro later refused to make a living of it. He is regularly at the receiving end of a regular dose of " I paid for your education", "I took care of you", "I brought you up". " I am still bringing you up" etc.

While I do not at all feel sorry for him it reminds me of another scene where the buxom Parsi mom asks the preposterous kid, "How would you like it if you did not have a mother ?". Preposterous kid says, "I'd like it". LOL !

Juicy Grapes so yummy !

Today was Rayyan's School Fancy Dress show. In retrospect, I rue how soon I give up on Rayyan by presuming he will not measure up. I try so much harder with Ruhi. I am constantly surprised by him these days, which is a new feeling and I so like it ! 

For his fancy dress I dug my brains for the simplest costume that I thought he could carry off and created a 2 line limerick about 'juicy grapes'. He enthusiastically mugged and practiced his lines to call. Maybe I should have given him a longer poem since the other kids spoke so much more and it helped !

He is shit scared of balloons from the day one went bust bang on his face. Yet he bravely made peace with them on his D day. I tried to do a dress rehearsal for several days before Fancy dress but he did not let the balloons anywhere close to him. I was half certain he would refuse to put the balloons on his shirt. But he quietly stood at the back of my jeep outside his school, to let me tape them to his shirt.  He also patiently let the double sided tape sit on his head holding a tiny leaf patch. 

He looked very bright and cheerful till I left him at the steps from where he had to walk alone to the centre of the small stage. He walked up slowly and timidly looking very scared. The balloon on his right shoe fell off and I thought he was about to run back. I quickly moved up from the audience to sit at his feet holding his tiny cold hand. He was absolutely silent for a few seconds as the teacher urged him to speak on the mike. His eyes were locked into mine in a bewildered gaze and it seemed he had lost his voice.

I whispered hard to him "say good morning friends...". He paused some more and swallowed spit. I thought he was going to give up. But then he looked straight at the audience and said his lines loud and clear right down to the sprightly 'thank you'.

He did not win a prize and for once I did not mind it. Its taken baby steps to get here and this in itself is my biggest prize ! 

Catterpillar to the Butterfly !

Little Rayyan led his class for the Sports Day march past while I searched for him among the last in the file of kids !

He has so completely transformed from where we began an year ago. And his teacher made all the difference - that grand old lady in front of him whom he calls 'Dadi ma'm" ! She calls him her "Little Puck". We love you Geita Ma'm.

"Mom, are we Bengalis?"

Every evening, Ruhi and I spend some quality time together! She had come back late from a birthday party and after the regular run down on her asthma (she is going through a miserable attack that leaves her coughing and wheezing all day ) what she ate and what she didn't, the games and how she could not dance or run the conversation took another turn :

"Mom, are we Bengalis?"

"I don't think so Ruhi...why would you ask?"

"Hmm....some one at Sona's birthday party thought I was Bengali"

"Is that so? How come ?"

"She asked me my name and when I said it, she asked 'are you a Bengali?' Ruhi said smiling sheepishly

My heart was pounding harder than usual.."hmm...so what did you say?"

"I said I am a Punjabi" she said with a more sheepish smile and gave me a look that she has when she isn't sure. I stayed silent for more than a second till she asked "We are Punjabis, are we not Ma?"

"Your mom is from Punjab, but your father is ..."

"Oh I know it ! He is a Bengali !" she interrupts excitedly

"NO !!! He is from Uttar Pradesh..."

"Oh Ok"

I pondered if this was that moment I have been anticipating when I should introduce the concept of Religion, Caste, Creed etc. I felt unprepared...this wasn't something that I could delve into my mommy good sense for answers if she asked me a pertinent question. Specially since I noticed my husband look eagerly at me, waiting to hear the obvious explanation. I let the moment pass. Some other time, some other way.

Ruhi had moved on by then.

"Mom is 'senstitive' a bad word ?

'Sensitive you mean ?"

"yep, someone called me that...."