As weird as we can get!

“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.”
― Debra Ginsberg

Last night my teenage son announced that he was going out for dinner with his friends. I had just come away from my kitchen, after making the rotis, that he loved so much, and the dal, the younger sunny boy loved. There was peas pullav too, if he wanted rice, which invariably he would want if I hadn't made it. I had just settled down feeling smug, that I had just about managed to understand my boy and today I had succeeded. And then his 'matter of fact' announcement happened. My heart was angry. I did the first thing i'm sure any mom would do, I asked him 'WHY'. His answer was simple and just that. He wanted to go out and eat with his friends and there was nothing else to it. 

We mothers are weird like my boys say. I want them to be independent, I want them to have friends, because, these are going to be their lifelines when they grow older. The boys see us, surrounded by friends. I have a treasure trove of them and want the same for my boys too. That's a small thing to want. But then, why did I react the way I did? Because I convince myself that i'm just normal.
Took me back to my childhood when we would sulk, when the dish made for dinner was not to our 'exciting' standards. (The same food is my comfort food now). We would walk across to my neighbour's house and eat what she had cooked. It didn't hurt then. It hurts now. Now when I think of what we put our moms through. We are our mother's daughters. 

I see the same rebellious spark in both my sons. I see the same emotions and the same 'groan'. They are my sons after all. At times, I am the paranoid parent. I can imagine all sorts of nonsense that can happen in their lives if i'm not around. I feel I am a superwoman who can prevent them if i'm around. I have my friends who hold me back. Who tell me to let go. I am learning. It hurts. It slowly dries up the tears that flow inside. And one day I see my boy standing tall, confident, happier and with that spark still in his eyes. I know I did the right thing.

Teenagers can be difficult. For themselves and for their parents. But inside they are just small lil boys waiting to be hugged and told that we still love them. 
My mother was not an expressive lady, like most of them of that generation. She loved us nevertheless, in her own way and we knew it. In every single movement of hers. Each time I stand at the door to say a 'bye' to my older son as he steps out for his college, I know i'm carrying on a tradition that my mother followed, which then didn't mean much, but its in my bank of memories that I love. I know my son loves it too. And i'm hoping that one day both the boys will turn back and think of their childhood with as much love as I do. 
My mother saw me through and i'm forever thankful. 

I am 'the weird, crazy' mom to my 17 and 12 year old boys. I get angry and scream and sulk. I hug them and smother them with love too. But I let go too. I see them grow and I am proud of what they are.

I am a mother. These 2 boys gave me that right. And i'm forever thankful too.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO EVERY MOTHER. And continue to be weird, that is our exclusive right :)

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Stranger Blues

“. . .sometimes one feels freer speaking to a stranger than to people one knows. Why is that?"
“Probably because a stranger sees us the way we are, not as he wishes to think we are.”
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Its been many years since we all got onto the virtual world. Some of us out of curiosity. Some because we just wanted to see for ourselves what the rest were talking about.
I was sceptical at first...nervous because I never knew what to 'know' or how much I should 'know'. I clicked on the keys of the keyboard and what sounded like clicks at first slowly turned musical. The words typed themselves. The virtual world was thrown open to an individual, who believed that 'if you want to stay in touch with your friends, you need to make the effort.' I did just that. The friends brought in others who had dropped out of the planet, but were thrilled to be drawn in and find some smiling faces that they had left behind.
They were the familiar faces of my childhood- the ones who had hidden in the dark with me, the ones who I had shared secrets with. Some of them I had never imagined would ever go away. But go away they did..and they just remained as names. Some had held my hand through happy times, and some through those insane phases. They grew with me. I held on because in them I found peace.
This world somewhere conspired and brought in the yearning to jot down my insane thoughts, and with them came in a whole new world. They read what I wrote, commented, some felt for me, and some with me. Some came back and waited for more. In no time, the line between the stranger and friend dimmed. We shared, we laughed, we whined together. We understood. The only face I knew was the one on the screen in front of me, some stayed as flowers and cartoon characters they depicted. It didnt matter, I had already put a face to the words they spoke to me. The face spoke to me. Soon, some faces turned into friends we met, laughed and dreamt all over again.
Some I have yet to meet. Some I know I will not or might never meet. But they have all remained a part of my being. Of my growth as a human. One never knows how easily we slip into a conversation that we might never have with our own close ones. Its amazing how a person who was once a stranger suddenly means a lot to you...
What is it that makes the unknown so treasured yet so unpredictable?
I am still on this journey....

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16 is not the same as 17..

That non stop chatter that would fill my house and my life all his young days. The need to tell me with actions and effects all that happened at school, at play. I could never say 'Later'..He would follow me around like a lil puppy. He would call out to me so often, that many of my friends and cousins would bully him saying that "Yes, she is your Ma, and she's not
running away anywhere", and it didnt stop him.

From tricycles to hotwheels cars, to tracks, to gameboys and psps to mobile phones to laptops..life moved on at a breakneck speed. As a 2 1/2 year old who refused to go up on stage for his fancy dress competition dressed as a clown, only because he was scared. Those big drops of tears that fell down his cheeks broke my heart then, that I had actually given in and played his favourite song "Soldier, soldier" from the same movie of Bobby Deol. It played its magic and he walked away clowning around and winning his first ever prize.
The apple of my eye..and yes he is. He towers over me..and sometimes it unnerves me. The lil child whose hands would cling to mine now reaches out to me, even if i'm to cross a road. And then I look back and smile. He is still my lil boy, the lil puppy, Only now, his eyes do the watching, but now it is watching over me, not waiting for me to reach out. It brings a lump in my throat, and the eyes as always tear out. I still get a call if i'm not at home when he gets back from college or play.He still throws his tantrums..which i've learnt how to master. He doesnt give up though..but now its to just bully me. The minute he sees me getting all irritated, he walks away with a sly smile and I know i've lost again. When did he grow up?

They say 16 is a sweet age..I agree. 16 is not the same as 17. You are suddenly left with a young man on the threshhold of his life...uncertain about his dreams, because he still doesn't know if he can let go. But strongwilled and determined enough to convince me if he needs anything. This is my lil boy who talked nineteen to the dozen..but now if I can hear 3
words more i'd be ecstatic. His silence speaks to me in different ways, and he knows I understand him more than anyone else. We have an equation that defies all parenting textbooks.
When he tells his father, that it is best to give me space when i'm angry (the cause of anger being him), it makes me wonder where I did the right thing?

His space, his time and his moods. I will cherish them all. It's made him what he is, and in the process, it made me what I am. A proud mother. Always.
But when he insists on riding the 2 wheeler only because he's grown up and 17 already, I refuse to accept that...NEVER.
He's my baby forever.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LIL BOY WHO GREW OUT OF HIS BRIGHT RED BOOTIES AND STEPPED INTO THOSE EXPENSIVE BRANDED SHOES..My blessings and love, forever his.

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HO! HO! HO!

Growing up in a convent school, has its many many hours of fun and nostalgia.

 

Christmas season was the best of all. There would be plays, complete with songs, some students playing the piano, the guitar and lots of singing in that choir'ish voice.
There was that spirit of joy, the smiles that spread wide and so much cheer.

I remember going to the chapel (our school had a beautiful campus, with so much of green.) The chapel would be decorated so colourfully. The green of the christmas trees, the pine plants, the red streamers, ribbons, glitter and white of the cottonwool too. Nothing expensive but beautiful nevertheless.

The hours we'd spend making the nativity scene, using brown wrappng paper, colors and crushing them to look like a cave. Who would have thought that this festival was a celebration for Christians bringing in the birth of Jesus. We grew up with faith instiled in us. We grew up with belief. We knew the truth about Santa..but yet rejoiced and were so thrilled to see a Santa coming along with a huge red bag filled with candies and gifts) There would be a day where less fortunate ones woul dbe invited for lunch and would be given gifts too. It broadened our views on giving.

The tradition has carried on with my children too. They have their Christmas parties while in smaller classes and as they grew older they got involved with the lunches for the old age home the school organised. Each year, they come back with a small goodie bag with a fruit cake and some cookies. Its nostalgic.
I wouldn't have a Christmas in any other way. I still look forward to the day with the same enthusiasm. The gifts and cheer is contagious.

But times have changed now I see. The belief is diluted. When my son was in kindergarten, the Santa for their school party was but naturally the plump little teacher who was built tall. My son had come back home that day with a frown on his face, which i've never been able to change so far. " The santa in our school is a girl" he'd come back all forlorn..and i'd smiled and asked how can he say that? And he'd said "I saw the earrings and it IS Gina ma'ms."

Last year we had organised a Christmas party in our Apartment Complex, and to our horror, the Sanat turned out to be a scrawny, small built young boy, who went around pinching the kids. Where has the joy gone? I 'd felt like asking him, but then I realised, he has not been to a school and might never have seen a Santa at all..so how would he know?

8 years have passed and now he knows there is no real Santa..but i'm glad he's as mad as his mom..and still smiles wide when he sees a Santa Claus going past.
So now I get to baking an Oreo Brownie, a recipe that has been eyeing me from the time it was posted on Saffron Trails blog. I shall make some mulled wine too, thanks to bloggers who are helpful enough to put up the 'How to'

MERRY CHRISTMAS FOLKS' AND LIVE IN GOOD CHEER. BE JOYOUS, BE HAPPY AND KEEP THAT SMILE ALL AROUND, YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN SANTA'S GONNA COME VISITING.


My 25th post a celbratory one for this festive season and for the Marathon Bloggers

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The Tiger Comes to Town!!!

"IS HYDERABAD NAMED AFTER HYDER?"- asked a little girl while she was waiting for her snack in the intermission.
Standing right behind them, I couldn't just not overhear. It made me smile. Children are such inquisitive beings, and these are opportunities for parents to give them information that they could hold on for years later. It will be attached with memories they will connect with visuals, experience and that one night they had gone out with their parent.

It was a scene straight out of my evening. When I agreed to go to the play 'TIGER, TIGER' by the Bangalore Little Theatre,  that my friend had sent an invite to, little did I know, what to expect. I just wanted to watch a play, and this was a great opportunity for me, because it fit very well in my scheme if things, it being a Sunday too. While I was trying to think up a blog post for the day, I remembered the play and made my calls and plans were made. But there was a small hitch. I didn't have company. My kids glared at me, like I was the tiger itself. I had to watch this play at all costs, I told myself. And then I agreed to go along. Just said, 'keep my pass, i'm coming'. And when he asked me if I was going alone? I smiled and thought of my bucket list.. And said, of course, Yes.

The evening was ethereal. I have lived in Bangalore for donkey's years now. But I have never ever visited the Bangalore fort. Shameful yes. I agree.

So when I did through the main gate, I was having a quizzical expression. This? So beautiful? Wow!..Yes The Fort is all that and more. The event "THE TIGER COMES TO TOWN" was a 2 day affair, 'A public history project organised by the Centre for public History in collaboration with the Archaeological Survey of India'.








The play set against the backdrop of the fort, under the starlit sky made it all the more divine. For that piece of history many have forgotten, this was a wonderful journey through Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan's eyes. The entire production left me awed and wishing I could have done the previous day's Shadow walk, the History trail with Arun Pai. It was so beautiful. The whole evening was so well organised and so sleek. I am so glad I went.

The play itself was brilliant. The actors be it small or big, were so flawless and so at ease with their role.



And there was another achievement  :)

I got to score out one of my lists from the bucket list i'd just made...yippeee..I went all alone, left my kids behind, watched the whole play with no guilt, in fact I enjoyed it so so much. And came back a very happy woman. so yay! to me!!

My 24th day post for Marathon Bloggers..

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A kiss that cannot be forgotten!!!

Its not everyday you get to live a life that you've dreamt of.

Its not everyday, you have your past coming back to make you smile

Its not everyday you look back on the years gone by and realise a 'sigh' has escaped your lips, just because, you still wonder 'How it could have been?'

Yes..Its not everyday that all these thoughts go past your mind, and it leaves you searching, clinging to those few moments that have been made into memories. That's exactly what the protagonist in the story "The secret wish list" by Preethi Shenoy goes through.

A humble story, the lines which make you stop and ponder. Because i'm so sure, every woman however happy she is today, will always have that one fleeting thought, that goes ' Thats one thing I wish I had done before I got married'
The book does not justify any actions, morales or any kind of upbringing. Its clean, neat, crisp and just plain simple. For people who understand (which is not very difficult) the needs of the woman Diksha, they would also feel the pains of Vibha (her cousin), Tanu ( a school friend-every child would have had).

There is an ease with which Preethi has made Diksha's thoughts flow, that even for a person who houses conservative thoughts about life, will think twice before judging her.
There is a bit of Diksha in everyone's life, and there is always that little bit of longing in a girls heart. This is put through so beautifully, that you just want to know what happens next, and before you know it, you are nearly building up her life for her.

I loved reading her book, and of course, I do have a secret wish list too. But I just could not put this one down, because of course, I wanted to know what the two lines at the back of the book that says -

"Does true love really exist?
Can a kiss change your life? "

actually mean. And find out I did, and wow!! It was so worth buying this book. A fast paced and exciting story, one would not want to put down in a hurry.


This is my day 23 post for marathon bloggers

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