I still hope...

So, I got a phone call in the night informing my Baba is no more. I was numb with shock, just few hours back I spoke to him. He asked me to buy medicines for Ishan who was running slight fever. I could not understand what happened, it seems he got a heart attack – the first of its kind. He had no cardiac issues, he got cataract operated a month back and as he was senior citizen so they did multiple tests before the operation. He was fit and fine, he was supposed to get the other eye operated in a month’s time. After that everything was a blur for me, we took a flight to Kolkata and then to Silchar. Felt pathetic to be at home when he was no more – the home that he built, the home that mom nurtured. He was just gone from the world, just like that. I started pretending that he was outside, in the market, in the pharmacy, just outside but still with us. Once back in Mumbai, I used to think he might pick up the call someday, he will ask me about Ishan and what am doing. Hope is such a fantastic thing you know! You can hope and no one can stop that. I never told anyone how pained I am, what I felt, why I don’t cry for him. He was alive for me all the while – just somewhere else, doing something.

Life goes on, so my normal routine returned. Not a single day passed when I did not think why he just could not come out of the attack, why the doctors could not revive him. Then there was a session on health and lifestyle in my office. I joined that just because I had some spare time that day. That session was such a great one, we got to know many do’s and dont’s regarding our health. One thing that struck me hard was the reason I was looking for all these years. The doctor said that most of the cardiac patients are killed by their family, of course unknowingly and unintentionally. Whenever there is any uneasiness the most likely thing that we all do is to drink water or offer water to the patient. Which, although sounds normal, is absolutely a no-no.

In layman’s words, when there is a cardiac arrest the patient cannot breathe through his nose and he breathes through his mouth. If we drink water, that passage is blocked too and we cannot breathe, resulting in our death. I don’t know if Baba was given water to drink as I was not present there. If given, was that the reason that he died of the very first attack? I am not here to decide or judge anyone or anything. In most likelihood, it was his time to go and he would have gone any which ways. But then I learnt a lesson looking for the reason of his death. I advise as many people as possible to not give water to anyone when they are not feeling well. It is always advisable to see a doctor first, water can wait.

It is 9 years today that Baba left us. I still feel him, hear his voice and still hope…. 

Tooth Fairy

Do you have any idea who created the myth of Tooth Fairy? Or was it a fairy tale that people picked up and started making real? I heard about Tooth Fairy not in my childhood but when I was working with ITN at Nariman Point. My friend Neelu Lekhi has two sons, and her sons were pretty young at that time. So, one day she told me how she buys gifts, wraps them and keeps them handy so that when either of the boys has tooth fall, she becomes a Tooth Fairy to them! Although sounded troublesome, the idea enchanted me. She said kids find it magical and there should be some magic in childhood. Yes, I ever more liked the idea then. Ishan was just 11 months old at that time.

After a few years when Ishan's milk tooth started coming off, I started buying gifts for him and keeping them near his pillow, in his study table, in the drawing room etc. I added a twist to the magic, you have to look for it and find it. So whenever there was a tooth fall, Ishan used to be ecstatic, looking forward to a gift, sleeping early in the night so that he can wake up early and get the gift. In the morning, he used to get up early and start looking around for his gift. I loved it too, he believed in magic, he believed in fairies and he was happy. Isn't that what I wanted?

I thought this will not go on for long and he will see through it and start disbelieving. It was hell of a task for me, whenever he used to say that there is a loose tooth, I used to go running and buying something that he needed. So once he commented - Tooth Fairy buys all her gifts from 'Chamunda' (a shop just down my building)! Once he said - Tooth Fairy knows what I want and gives me that! I was sure, this magic will end pretty soon. He was so close to seeing through everything.

He asked his friends of they get gifts and some of them said yes and some said no. So he asked me why is the fairy biased and I said you really have to believe her to get the gift.

He is 10+ now and a tooth came off yesterday. He did not tell me that there was a loose tooth and hence I was not prepared today. He was so upset today morning thinking Tooth Fairy missed him and was wondering why. After he went to school, I bought a gift and placed it in his study table, behind his Globe. After coming back he was ecstatic!! Mamma! I missed it in the morning, the gift is here. Then he gave me a smile, a all knowing smile, a sweet smile, a smile that I can die for.

Yes, he knows there is no fairy, he knows it is me. He does not want to tell me this and end the magic. I know that he knows and I also do not want to tell him and end this. So, till his final milk tooth is out, I am ready to play Tooth Fairy happily!

.... and yes I do cook :)

Cooking is not my cup of tea. I realised this TRUTH when I was a young girl and was always reluctant to enter the kitchen except meal times. I can stir up a snack for you or a dessert, but the idea of cooking a meal - that too a Bengali meal - always used to put me off. So, however badly my parents wanted me to cook, I never did that till marriage. After marriage I started cooking but not in a large scale..... breakfast used to be toast with butter, lunch at office and then cooking dinner used to be a joint effort with my husband.

So, when did I start cooking full-fledged? Yes, I started it with all gusto when Ishan came to my life. The idea of a maid cooking up for him never occurred to me. I am hygiene conscious to the point of being a pain in the neck for the cook. Has she washed the veggies, did she wash her hands well, did she taste the food while cooking...etc etc etc etc. The list of my peeves were too high for me to employ a cook. So, to be on the safer side I started to cook regularly. Then slowly a secret wish welled up within me. I wanted Ishan to like what I cook and so all my efforts would be to cook something healthy that he likes, something nutritious that satisfies me on the nutrition scale and satiates his taste buds.

I love whatever my Mum cooks. I crave for things cooked by her and so when I visit her I always have a long list of what I want to eat. Secretly I started wishing that Ishan too should love food cooked by me. He too should crave for food cooked by me once he grows up. Once he is in college he should say mere mamma ke haath ka chicken, fish etc etc...

I remember a friend telling me some couple of years back that my wish is ridiculous. Her kids know that Mom and Daddy work outside and maid cooks for them. In today's world that is the normal thing, she said. But I disagreed and we argued on it. I am not saying she was wrong, she has no time to cook and so she has done something that is convenient. But I am selfish, a very selfish mother. I want Ishan to crave for mamma-made-food when he grows up. When I look back at my childhood, food is so vivid in my memory - the Sunday lunch that Mum used to cook for us, the vegetarian menu on Thursdays, I miss them today. I want Ishan to have such memories in his memory bank when he grows up.

Last week I made gajar ka halwa and Ishan said - Mamma Sanjeev Kapoor should give you a medal, the halwa is too good. I was happy, genuinely happy. Not that my halwa was the best, but because he started loving what I cook. So, he has started dictating me what he wants for weekend breakfast and lunch - aloo paratha, methi paratha, matar paratha, idli, dosa, dahi vada, chicken, fish and specifically - Ilish maach. Not that I cook everyday according to him, but I try to accommodate something from his wish list each day and watch him in joy while he eats.

These simple things are what life is made up of. I wanted Ishan to experience this joy too. When Ishan grows up and goes out to study and to pursue his career, he should miss food cooked by me. He should always have a list of food that he wants me to cook. For someone who does not love cooking, this will be the best gift of life.

A Proud Mom

Sachin Tendulkar said that his mom performs puja everytime he is on the crease. I am sure she did, but how I wonder! ...and I wonder because I have a reason, a very solid one...
My 9 year old is cricket crazy and so I enrolled him in a cricket academy. My responsibility ended there and his father's started. I mean after enrolling I did not take the pain to go with him to his practice sessions. It is his Dad's duty. After all I did the main part, looked for a good academy and enrolled him!!

So every Saturday and Sunday morning as I sleep peacefully, the Dad-Son duo wake up, get ready and leave for the class. Have to clarify something here, Ishan does not wake up because I am sure he does not sleep at all. Friday night and Saturday night he thinks and dreams and breathes cricket. He is awake from 3.00 am. and constantly murmurs something. After many months I understood what he murmurs - 'why is it taking so long to be 6.00 am'!!
I was happy that he gets to play cricket. He comes home and rattles off how he scored 6 and 4 and how he was not-out till the end. I never paid attention thinking all that to be childish blabber of a cricket fanatic.

Last weekend was different, Ishan's Dad was out of station. Ishan was extremely obedient the previous week so that I take him to the class. He knows how I love my Saturday and Sunday nap, so he obliged to everything to please me to such an extent that I could not say no to him. Against my wishes, shunning my favourite Saturday morning sleep I went with him to his playgroud. I dropped him there and came back home to do the household chores. By the time I went back to fetch him his class was over. I really felt bad. I know I am not going to come always so the day I came, I should have stayed back and watched him play. I was upset and so I decided to watch him play the next day. Sunday morning I went with him and stayed there. They started their day with exercise and running. Then 2 groups were formed for a match and Ishan was on the fielding side. He was wicket-keeping (remember, he is a Dhoni-Sachin fan, in the same order). He was average, I wanted him to be in action - bowling, taking wickets, you know how mothers are, right? He was doing a good job but not an impressive one for me.

Then came their chance of batting and Ishan was the opening batsman. In the first ball itself, the ball hit his thigh and he got hurt. I was so sad that I thought of running towards him. Then I saw a matured Ishan. I am sure he would have howled with pain if at home, but there he got up and told his coach that he wants to bat a little later as he cannot move his left leg. He went and sat down and started some exercise that I had no idea he knows. I lost all interest in cricket and thought how I can sue the coach and the academy and all the cricketers in the world for hurting my son. But he, unaware of my presence, did his exercise. It was already 9 and I was wondering when his turn to bat will come. Other kids were playing, but did I pay attention to them? Not really! But still I saw some kids bowling well, some fielding well and one kid exercising his hurt leg.

So at 9.30, when I lost all hopes of seeing him bat, he came to the crease. My God, how he imitates Sachin, he did all antics as Sachin does.... adjusting his pads, gloves, looking here, there, everywhere before taking position. One of the last 2 batsman, he scored a run and came to the non-batting side. The kid at the batting side got bold at the moment. I got up, thinking that the match is over as there is no one else to play with Ishan. But no, as this is an academy match and it is meant for teaching them cricket, so they have a policy called 'last man standing'. Till Ishan is not out, his team will be on the batting side. It was 9.35 and I anticipated that it will be over in 10 more minutes. I called up my maid and asked her to come at 10.00 am and concentrated on the match.

Then he started playing. And with joy I observed that he plays well. He scored boundaries and many singles. He had a good position and was focussed (wish he was such focussed in studies). After 45 minutes of wonderful cricket the coach declared - 'next Saturday Siddhartha (Ishan) will play again till he is out'. Then the captain of the opposition team protested against continuing the same game. But the coach was adamant. 'It is last-man-standing and he is not out and so I cannot do injustice'. Wow, how proud I was. Yes, it is a 9-year old cricket fanatic who made me proud. Some of the parents standing there said - he played well in the last match too. All these months I was not aware that my Lovu plays well. I thought he was one cricket fanatic like millions of kids in India. We all grew up on cricket and we all love it. To be frank, I put him in the class because I wanted him to channelise his energy somewhere. I never thought that he will play well......true I never gave it a thought.

But I was a bit disappointed as I did not hear one word of appreciation from his coach. Usually the coach shouts 'good shot', 'well played'. But for Ishan, he did not say anything. So, I went up to him to ask how Ishan played. He said - 'Yeh bahut achcha khelta hai but ekbaar good shot bol diya toh next ball mein out ho jaata hai. So I refrain from saying anything.' I was a bit jealous, here is someone who thinks he knows my son better than me, aah? But in my heart I knew the coach was right, absolutely right. If you make him conscious, he does blunder.

But trust me, I was on the verge of tears when I saw him play. My hands went cold and I felt nervous despite 1000 of self assuring words like - it is just a practice match..... out bhi ho gaya toh kya hua..... he is just a kid, so he should enjoy..... !!

At that moment I wondered how Sachin's mother did puja when her son was playing. I cannot. Her son is known as the God of cricket. What must be her feelings. How she must be feeling when her son got hurt, got out, when he scored the match winning boundary!

But one thing is sure, I cannot do anything except looking at Lovu and hoping he plays well even when he plays a gully tournament. I don't know how far he will go, but till he plays he should enjoy.

..... and yes, my bai went back and I had to do the household chores.... all for cricket!!!

Growing Up!!

I always worry how Ishan is growing up without a proper Bengali upbringing. I know it sounds foolish, but I truly want him to know how my baba and mum grew up, how me and my siblings grew up…. those small happiness, small moments. In a big city like Mumbai, all that he gets to do never look sufficient to me. One has far more independence in a smaller town. Big fields, big parks, mango orchards to go and steal, neighbours who are more like family. I try to inculcate in him the habits that we all had….. I force him to read books, I force him to play board games. The list is long…..

But day before yesterday I witnessed something and it made me think for long. In the evening, Ishan wanted to go out and play with his friends and I obliged. There I saw him doing something unusual. He and his friends wrote a big OM (in hindi, of course) in a card board, they stole some Diwali diyas and lit them….one of the kids got a mat and all of them sat down….. someone managed to get kumkum powder and all of them made tilaks….. then Ishan became the purohit and recited all the mantras that I taught him…..starting from Saraswati mantra, Durga, Shiva, Manasha. One of the kids asked him to recite Hanuman Chalisa. So he started…Jai Hanuman Gyaan Gun Sagar……. and after that what he said I did not understand because he does not know the chalisa….. but all the other kids thought he knew and they were all listening with rapt attention. The way he played the part of a purohit was commendable, he was very confident. Then he remembered the naam kirtan that my mother does at home and he started - Jay Jay Dayananda…….. all the kids also chanted with him…….

I was amazed to see that he remembers the mantras which he repeats before going to sleep. That he took the role of purohit and did the puja….. that he knew when to offer flowers and when to chant the mantras..... that they chose to do a puja instead of playing and fighting and getting hurt…..

Suddenly I was a proud mother. Not everything is so bad to worry about……….. but I am a mother….a selfish one who wants her kid to get the best of everything……. So…….. bye bye till I worry again!!

I insist on saying Happy Kali Pujo!!

When I was young, I did not know what Diwali was...... it was Kali Pujo for us. Yes, after Durga Pujo we used to wait for Kali Pujo and we knew that on the next day of Kali Pujo we will burst crackers..... 'baji porano'. Don't know if the term 'Diwali' had so much importance then. 'Dhanteras' was a totally alien word to us.

So it was Kali Pujo that we used to be geared up for. Washing the diyas, keeping them in water so that it does not get super dry, then drying them little, pouring oil, thread (solte) and keeping the diyas ready was the best thing that I remember. I used to be super happy doing all these. Then in the evening after lighting them I used to run to the road to see how my house is looking from there..... used to go and watch it from every possible angle and come home satisfied. Then running around with candle in hand so that the diyas keep burning till night. Aaah what fun!!...... The pujo always used to start at night...so after bursting some crackers we used to go to the nearest pujo pandal and sit there for a while. Next day morning we used to go to Samshan Kali Bari to have a darshan and prasad and then we used to wait for evening to burst more crackers. This is what my Kali Pujo used to be.

Kali pujo used to be followed by Bhai fota and I always waited for that. The wait was more for the gift than the urge to give fota. Although I knew the gifts that I was going to get, still the wait was great. The gifts had a set pattern - pen set, slam book, comics, hair band, hair clips. However repetitive it was, I was never tired of them and used to love the fact that Dada was giving something.

Till date, I go to Silchar during Kali Pujo and give bhai fota to dada and still love getting gifts.... yes the gifts have become more matured gifts now. :)

But the essence of Kali Pujo has changed now. Even in Silchar I hear people waiting for Diwali and not Kali Pujo. I know the name does not change anything but it kills the emotion that I have kept alive within me all these years. We are Bengalis and it is Kali Pujo for us. Yes, I am sounding odd I know, but that is what I love to call it. So, I do not know how to react when a Bengali wishes me 'Happy Dhanteras'.....well I definitely respond back politely but then why? Someone who celebrates Dhanteras should be wished the same, we celebrate Kali Pujo so we should be wished that way.

So today on Dhanteras day....I wish Dhanteras to all who celebrate Dhanteras, Diwali to all who celebrate Diwali and Kali Pujo to all my Bengali friends!!

Have a great Kali Pujo!!

My Assam!!

Born and brought up in Assam I always took certain things for granted. Things like lush greenery, rain drenched morning, cold winter morning, dew drops, rainbows, hail storms, chasing butterflies, big houses, garden, the list is endless. I never thought that in some parts of the world these things are a rarity, these things are luxury.

While growing up, I went to many towns of Assam as my Baba had a transferrable job. So, I was born in Silchar, then to Diphu, to Tejpur, Guwahati, again Diphu and then Silchar. At that time my Mom refused to do more of city hopping as she was concerned about our studies and we settled down at Silchar.

So, although I spent most of my childhood years in Silchar, I also have memories of all the other towns. Then after class 10th, I went to Haflong and stayed with my Kaku for 2 years. It was wonderful 2 years that I spent there. I made some friends for life there and have some great memories.

Mumbai happened to me after marriage and for the last 11 years I am in Mumbai. After Silchar, if I call any other city home, it is Mumbai. I have adapted myself to the city and have been blessed with some wonderful friends here. So, I have a great social circle here and am really happy.

That is not what I want to tell you all. What I want to say is that even though I call Mumbai home, there is a constant urge to go back to Silchar once in a while. Whenever I go there, I come all rejuvenated to take on life. Yes, that is a place that my soul resides. Now, I have started showing symptoms of an unknown disease. I have started owning everything that North East India has! For example, it used to be Kaziranga National park untill it became 'My Kaziranga', Brahmaputra and Barak used to be rivers common to all, but all of a sudden they have become 'my Barak' and 'my Brahmaputra'. Similarly, it is 'my Guwahati', 'my Silchar', 'my Shillong' and the list goes on. Everything and every part of North East has become MINE, I don't know from when..... so I ask people....have you seen 'My Shillong'? You will forget any other hill Station..... do you have Assam Silk from 'my Assam'.

Not only that, I keep on telling Ishan - "during my childhood I used to run after butterflies and play outdoors all day with dada". Well, now I know in my heart that in Mumbai where sighting a butterfly is only a big thing how can he possibly chase one? I also know that even if he wants to play all day out I will not allow him. Still I go on and on. Now I have come to the colclusion that this is a disease. I cannot expect my son to grow up in Mumbai exactly how I grew up in 'my Assam'! Still I want him to do things that I did. Per me he is missing the fun, which is probably not correct. He does not know those fun things that we used to do, so probably for him playing a video game and cricket is more fun than langdi, kabaddi, land & water or gilli danda. But the thought that he will be detached from the things that I hold so dear to me, makes me worry.

I want 'My Assam' to be 'Our Assam' with Ishan in it. He loves Silchar dearly....we all love the place where our grandparents stay, don't we? Despite that, I fear that his love for Silchar or Assam or North East will not be as intense as mine.

Alas, this disease is eating me up!!!! By the way have you visited 'My North East' ever? It is heaven on earth, you are always welcome there.