The disaster of this moment is tomorrow's blessing :)

“You can't spend the rest of your life tiptoeing around to try and avert disaster. It won't work. You'll just end up missing the life you have.”
― Kim Edwards,   

And I agree.

As a young girl, studying in college, living a life filled with dreams..I can imagine what life could have been, had I prepared myself for the worst. It won't happen, ever.
How much can one prepare for the future? It is a tough task.

We can dream..we can try to realise those dreams. But if we start living the day thinking of all the failures that can happen with those dreams, we can never achive anything. We lose the present moment, the joy of visualising what we want, the smiles and twinkle in the eyes. We worry ourselves silly with thoughts that are negative and then drive ourselves to despair and disapoointment.

Don't ever let your negative thoughts, turn your dreams into a disaster ever. Give them wings and let them fly. Reach for the stars..you will never know what you might find on the way. If not the stars, rest assured the journey to reach them, itself is made lovely.

So dream on, and turn every moment into one happy one..

This is my post for day 4- Disaster. as part of our blogger prompt week, for Marathon Bloggers

It's Monday ...but it is OK :)

DAY -3 Monday :)

So come Monday and the schools reopen and my life is going to be back to regular. I am so lookin gforward to it. Some call me crazy. Yes I am. There should be someone in this space who will like to swim against the tide and that is ME :)







When the whole world groans and moans about a weekend getting over and the Monday looming in the horizon, I get all excited.I like weekends. I am not complaining. There is a small bit of peace when you dont need to follow a rigid timetable. But the high I get from a day that is packed with energy and work, is not to be compared. After my sons started going to school, I started loving Mondays all the more. The routine, the hectic pace with which the day moves and the certainity of a pattern...that's something I thrive on. I'd rather go to bed exhausted, bone weary and hallucinating than spending a day lazing around.

Being a stay at home mom of two boys, a teen and pre teen, makes me crave for some me time. I and I get it, when i'm nose deep in my work at home on weekdays. Not for me are the lazy weekends, where there is no saying if breakfast gets eaten at lunch time or eaten at all. :(
So mad rush for the week, waking up early mornings..savouring the beautiful silence of that part of the day..the silence of the mind that gives me the chance to collect my thoughts and dreams. It has always been a favourite part of my day. and with lots of honesty I can say...
I LOVE MONDAYS :))

Crave...thirst and goals

To fill up the senses
to quench the craving
the need to fulfill

Isn't that what we seek
To flourish
to succeed

To always be happy
To see the smile
Of belonging

The thirst for love
For health, for money
and for all that it means

Isnt it simple
A task born out of thirst
and need

So where then
Is the end,
the end to all the need

Where thirst ends
Your goal diminishes
and the horizon blurs

So keep at it
Cherish the need
and savour the fruits

That thirst brings

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 :)

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....

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.