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.

Faces that we have, masks that we wear and games that we play

Faces that we have, masks that we wear and games that we play...... aaah it is difficult to recognise people nowadays. The people I see around me everyday, are not real people, they are all playing a role, a part in a game. People I know today, are the ones I don't recognise tomorrow. It made me wonder - WHY?? WHY are we not real people, why do we have to play a part to survive?

Then I realised that the answer lies in my question itself. TO SURVIVE. Right!! Darwin said - Survival of the fittest. Darwin would have changed his theory had he been born in today's world. Today we do all possible things to survive. We lie, we pull down others, we wear a mask, we back stab, we smile at someone and plan to ruin his/ her life. Where are we heading to? What are we gaining from all this? The negativity is engulfing everyone. We are fake, we were not born fake but we have turned ourselves into that. We are teaching our kids to be fake. I heard a mother telling her son - "do not smile at strangers, all are kidnappers here!!" I was aghast! Yes, I know we need to make a child understand about his/ her surroundings. But do we need to tell him that anyone and everyone he meets everyday are kidnappers? This is one of the reason why we do not see smiling kids nowadays. We see kids who are calculating every step, measuring everything. We have stalled their childhood and made them adult. What values can they give back to the society? What can they teach their kids?

I love to smile at people, talk to strangers, make friends..... and I always meet people who try to judge me. Why? Why not you lead your own life and let me lead mine?

I refuse to play a role and wear a mask and so I am not liked by people. But whatever people say, do, or however they behave, I am not going to change to please them. I am not born to please others, I am here to enjoy my life...please myself and leave the world as a happy soul. Please try to come and ruin it and you will be so super disappointed!! I promise that!

Teaching not to rape!!!!

"Don't teach girls what to wear, teach boys not to rape", was a post that everyone liked and shared on facebook. We hated the men who raped and killed "Damini", we hate all men who think women are objects of lust. We hate men who don't respect women as equals.

But wait, what does the facebook post imply to? Do by any chance anyone out there think that the parents of the culprits coaxed them to rape? Will any sane person believe that a parent will teach a kid to rape? Where does the question of teach not to rape come from? I have a son and I really want to teach him how not to rape....so what do I do? As a parent all that I can do is teach him lessons in morality, behaviour and etiquette. I can teach him how to respect human being, why only women, he should respect men too! My job ends there, I cannot shadow him everywhere to give him moral lessons 24/7. He has to know right from wrong, he has to carve his own character. I can only support him in that.

So in doing that, am I teaching him how not to rape? I am not clear about this. I kept on thinking for all these months after the Delhi rape case - who is to be blamed? Of course the MEN who were involved in it but why are their parents being targeted? Just because they have a son or because it is easier to put on blame when the person is from the weaker section?

Everyday I see some posts which say how a SON should be brought up. My question is, who has seen how those men were brought up? Probably their parents never had the time, money or energy left to give them some moral lessons. I am not supporting their act, that was henious and they should be severly punished. What I want to say is what makes people blame the parents? I really want to know why parents of a boy child are made to feel like culprits whenever such incidents happen, whereas the parents of a girlchild are looked upon as victims.

I would say we all have kids and we all are trying our best to give them the best of everything, so such posts surely hurt. So now, I need to go and ensure I teach my son how not to rape..........  but how...... any idea? ......huffffff.......

I am, that's why the world is!

Yeah, I believe in women power. No I am not a feminist and so please do not try to find any feminist hue in my words. I am just an activist for equality. So, I want the society to treat us as equal and not second class citizens. I do not want a reserved seat in a bus, I never take seats when offered by men, I do not believe in Ladies First policy. I am strong enough to stand in a crowded bus, brave the shoving people and come out with intact dignity. I truly believe that my dignity is not so fragile to be crushed by some nasty men trying to push or touch me. So yes, I stand in a bus with men around me and smile at their pettiness. I am not saying all men are same. Once a man in a bus stood like a barrier between me and some rogues. I have also met men who spoke to me looking at my eyes and not below. I have also met men who respected me as equal and we became friends. I met men who admired my inner beauty. So the list goes on.......

I have to admit here that I have more male friends than female. Is it because opposite attracts? I cannot say. But yes, I like the frankness that men have. I can mingle well with them and talk my heart out, as they don't hold grudges and are non-judgmental. But yes, I have to agree such men are few. Whenever I meet them, I make friends with them as they are priceless.

I hope someday my son Ishan grows up to be like them. I am trying hard to make him learn how to respect women and love them. He knows that his parents are equal in every way. Hope he understands that in the bigger canvas. He gave me a loving hug this morning and said - "Happy Women's Day mamma, you know na that I love you?" That made my day. I felt the same joy which I had when he was born. He is not someone who will remember a day and wish you. I saw him taking out a note from his drawer and then confirming the date in the calendar. He took so much pain just to wish me? Yes, my man is growing up!

So, it is a man (little one, I know) who made my day today!

Happy Women's Day!!  A day to celebrate womanhood? No that we do every day. It is a day to stop, smell the roses and feel happy.

I truly believe - "I am, that's why the world is!"

Teaching Ishan!! ;)

Ishan scored a zero in his drawing exam when he was in nursery!! From the very childhood he had a mind of his own and used to think unusually. The teacher announced to me on the report day - "Mrs. Nag, I am sorry to say that he has got a zero in drawing because he could not identify the colour that I showed him". I was stunned because that was the only subject I thought he would pass!! He was extremely good at colours, from a very young age he could identify colours very well. I was happy to see that although he FAILED in colour it did not hamper his promotion to the next class. But to be more sure what colour to teach him and how to make him 'colour ready' I asked the teacher as to which colour he could not identify. That was when I got the shock! He could not identify RED. Well, I thought to myself if that is the case then all my analysis of 'he knowing colours well' was a waste and I did not know my son well. Oblivious of what we thought about him, he was playing with his then best friend - Kanno. I called him where the teacher was standing and asked pointing to a red wall- "tell me the colour of the wall." He immediately said 'Red'. Now I was angry and embarassed, I asked him why he did not identify it when the teacher asked....  he looked sorely at the teacher and said - "Mamma this teacher cannot remember anything, she asked me the colour of the ball the previous day also and I said it was Red. So why should I answer the same question everyday... that's why I did not answer!! The teacher laughed and gave him a toffee and I learnt my first lesson - he has a solid mind of his own and EXAM is an alien word to him.

So, then I started to make him exam-ready - "Lovu whatever the teacher asks, you have to answer. They want to know if you have learnt all that they taught you". He obediently said "okay mamma". Job done, I was happy with myself. Then came the time when I had to take him to schools for admission tests. I did not teach him anything extra because I do not believe in all that, I wanted him to enjoy his growing up days. I asked him to tell the teacher whatever he knows. We went to a school in Airoli and the interview was just a formality there as he already got the admission. Once inside, the teacher asked me how I will manage with a job and I gave her the gyaan of how working mothers are the best ..blah blah.... Then came his turn and she asked him pointing to an apple - "what is this?" He said  - "An apple". He was bored and his look gave away that. Then the teacher asked him showing a ball - "what is this?" "It is a ball". There was a fish tank in her table and the teacher asked pointing to a fish - "what is this?" Ishan got up from his chair and said loudly and in hindi - Mamma chalo, iss techer ko kuch bhi nahin aata hai... mujhe iss school mein nahin aana hai!!!! I wondered why he did not say that in Bengali, I would have managed the situation in that case. But, for some reason, the teacher was happy and said "welcome to my school". Eventually he did not go to that school as he got into another school in Thane, but that was an EXPERIENCE for me. I came out and asked him what made him say so and that too in Hindi.... he said "you want me to come to a teacher who does know an apple, a ball or a fish?" Well the message was loud and clear - do not test my knowledge.

Till date, his stance has not changed. He hates tests and keeps on saying - Ishan knows all so why write and prove it? To teach him is no mean job, he expects you to know all. So, if he asks you the capital of Timbaktu ..you have to give him an answer and that too a correct one because he will remember it and refer to it the next time. During Durga Puja, he started asking me questions about the significance of 10 hands of Maa Durga and why she killed the poor asur and why she goes around in a Lion .... is she not afraid.... etc etc... the questions were endless. I used to answer him to the best of my abilities... I called my Mom and got answers for the ones that I was not sure about. One day, Ishan was very restless to know the name of all of the weapons that Maa Durga holds. I was cooking and so I asked him to wait for a few minutes. As he was impatient, so he went to his dad with the same question. Now I don't know what discussion the father child had because I was relieved not to be at the receiving end of the questions. I was apprehensive also, because I know my husband's knowledge in matters related to God!! But he was appeased and he did not ask me anything else about that. Next day being my off day, I went to pick him up from the bus stand. Two kids came rushing towards me - aunty aunty Siddhartha said Maa Durga has AK-47 in one of her hands, is that true! Well, I burst out laughing and said it is not true. Now Ishan or Siddhartha was very angry at me. He was proved wrong in front of his friends, he said "but Daddy said that it is AK-47!" Then I got the full story. He was asked in his class to tell about Durga Puja and he said Maa Durga is an extremely powerful Goddess, she has AK-47 in one of her hands. When the teacher tried correcting him he said that this fact is confirmed by his father. Post Durga Puja, Samir has not met Ishan's class teacher!

Blogpost title - “Love, life and the space in-between” - my entry to the GetPublished contest

Idea Description:

This story is about 2 women who have lived their prime time and are in the sunset of their life. Emon (Mr. Sanyal) and Sayantani (Mrs. Bhattachayra) are friends though they never give their relation any name. Their kids are grown up and so they have time to catch up every day and talk about issues that they face. Their little paradise of peace was rocked when Emon got a letter. From who and what is the story all about.

Extract:

Emon has this habit of checking the letter box whenever she passes through it. Today was no different, she opened and found some bills and a letter for her. Putting them in her coat pocket she went for her evening walk. When must have these letters come, she thought. She checked the box in the morning as well and it was empty. Letters are so fascinating for her, they have a charm of their own. Ivy does not understand this charm and she teases her all the time. At this modern age of emails, she still believes letters are written from heart, there is someone real writing it and you can feel and smell the person through letters.

Mrs, Bhattacharya was already taking rounds of the ground when Emon reached. They went around the garden discussing everyday things and sharing concern. Emon came back from her walk and sat down for a while, age has taken a toll on her health. Earlier she used to walk for an hour without getting tired but now she gets tired and needs rest after her walk. Sitting in her armchair, she goes back to those days when Shyam was there with her. Her Shyam, handsome, dark, medium built Shyam. “Dimma, I was looking for you everywhere. Where were you?” Ipshit’s voice woke her up. She went hurriedly to the kitchen, Ivy will come any time and she needs to make tea and give milk to Ipshit. Suddenly she remembered about the letter that has come. She gets tea for herself and settles down in the reading table. She takes out the letter from her coat pocket. It is a worn out envelop, someone must have used an old. The handwriting is not familiar but it is very lucid, has she seen it somewhere?

Em,

How are you? ….Emon sits straight with a start. After so many years someone addressed her as Em. Is it him? …after so many years? …who gave him her address? …why now? With trembling hands she read the letter twice. Yes it is him. No she does not want to think about him or the letter. She has to hide the letter before Ivy comes back from office. She needs to talk to Mrs. Bhattacharya.

"This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India."

Fairy Tales - My First Love

Audrey Hepburn said "If I am honest, I have to tell you I still read fairy-tales and I like them best of all".

For me, the avid reader, Fairy Tales were my first love. When I was a 5 year old my mom used to read out Fairy Tales to me. Those stories had big castles, nice food, good clothes, jewellery, and a charming prince to keep you happy ever after. The ladies were always very beautiful and the prince was always the best looking man possible. That was when I started dreaming, not necessarily of a prince but of a life with luxury and love, a life of abundance. I used to think that life has only 2 shades BLACK - the witch of the story or WHITE - the prince or princess.

Then as we grow up, we outgrow fairy tales and our horizon extends to all other genre of books. We learn and understand that prince charming is not always charming and can kill you for dowry or not bearing a male child. The witch can actually save you at times by not letting you meet the prince charming. Good food and good clothes does not always guarantee a good life. The teachings that life gives are in contrast to the dream that you weave after reading fairy tales. Then there comes a time when we distance ourselves from fairy tales and think them stupid. I once reasoned out with a friend that life is always a shade of grey, it can never be WHITE or BLACK in totality. I hated fairy tales after I saw that life was not what the fairy tales told me or made me believe to be.

After some years, I had a 4-year old curling up to me and asking me to read fairy tales to him. While reading out the stories again, I realised what the fairy tales do. They give us a dream. It is we who decide how to take it. We can turn that dream into reality or we can just ignore it as I did for many years. Fairy tales teach us that there are always BLACK and WHITE in life and we have to choose which way we want our life to turn. It teaches us that there is always a WITCH present to mislead you and there is always a FAIRY MOTHER to guide you. You will not physically see the witch or the fairy mother but you will get signs and will understand one from the other. You have to choose whom you want to follow. It depends on us, yes, on us only.

So Audrey Hepburn, I agree with you - I love Fairy Tales, not because I have not grown up, but because I have grown up to understand them.

My Mirror My Son!

Mamma the fat lady in TV looks exactly like you!!!! I was horrified to hear my son utter these words without any feeling. Yes, he hurt me by saying so and he did not feel for my feelings. Was he mocking me? Was he actually being cruel?  All these things crippled my mind.... and then I saw his transparent eyes and innocent smile......  he came to me and said - but still mamma you look very beautiful. Awww my baby, although he is growing up I love molly cuddling him and relish such mamma-baby moments.

He is one person in the world who is my mirror, he tells me things straight on my face and does not even bother about my mood swings (his dad does!). So, he is very blunt at times telling me - "God mamma you looked bad  while dancing", or "mamma you cannot sing".
He is usually a child who will not behave in a very matured way.... he is always in his own world.... watching cricket or cartoons, trying everything to escape studies and eating biscuits or bhujia when I am not near the kitchen. But then he stunned me one day with his maturity. It was a Saturday and my husband was out of station. I needed to go to bank for some urgent work. So I took him along and we went by a rickshaw. When we reached the HDFC bank I realised that as I was not carrying my credentials so they were reluctant to issue a DD. I headed towards SBI in the same rickshaw. The rickshaw driver, a migrant from UP, started chatting with me. By nature, I am a person who loves to talk so within a minute I was telling him how badly HDFC treated me even though I have been banking with them for years. The driver told me that SBI is a bank I should always trust as it has its branch everywhere in India (even his village in UP) and how they trust people and all. By the time I got down from rickshaw, except exchanging our numbers, we were chatting like old friends. The moment the rickshaw left, my son turned towards me with an intense look and with utmost seriousness he told me - "Mamma you chatted with a total stranger for so long? Do you know if he is good or bad? Why did you tell him where we stay and all." I looked at him and felt that he meant what he was saying.And then I realised that he was very gloomy throughout the ride.

I promised him that I will be careful next time on and then he was back to his chit chat of how Dhoni scored 100 and how he will never score anything below 200 when he plays for India! But the thought never left me......  from where he got that thing in his mind? he is not someone who is observant, on the contrary he is always in his dreamland (playing cricket). But I was very happy knowing that whatever I told him about Strangers and not talking to them and taking care actually seepped into his mind.

I realised that under his immaturity and kiddish behaviour, there is a little MAN hiding, who knows where to draw the line and how to behave. I was happy!

Olympics and my life!

At the start of Olympics I told my son about it and he said yes yes I know and so am studying well. I became extremely happy and tears filled my eyes...my son has grown up so much that he is studying hard to get my permission for watching Olympics. Then the day Olympics started I dragged him to watch TV with me and said "let's watch the opening ceremony". He gave me a confused look and said - but there was nothing like it last time. My happiness knew no bounds thinking he remembers Beijing Olympics!! I kissed him and asked "you remember last Olympics?" With an even more confused look he said "Yes, I did not do good in English but my Science and Maths Olympiad scores were good last year." I did not speak for almost 2 minutes. Well, he confused Olympics and his Olympiad tests!! And that's why he was studying hard and that's also why he remembers what happened last time. I laughed hard and kissed him again and told him about the games thinking all the while why did I goof up like that?

Then from day 1 we have been watching Olympics together. After office and school hours we sit together and do homework in front of the TV. We watched how Indian archers went down, how India lost in Rowing, Judo. But we also watched how Gagan Narang won Bronze. How Saina Nehwal and P. Kashyap fared well and advanced. We cheer whenever Indians are in action shouting yay Saina yay, or Swarn Singh zaldi kar... or Jwala Gutta smash them!!

My main aim was to introduce this cricket crazy kid to a volley of other sports, to widen his horizon. Well, I know this is too much, but do not forget I am an Indian mother who wants the kid to be no less than a Superman! I might go around saying it does not matter what he becomes when he grows up, but in my heart I hope he excels in everything!!

So on the 6th day of the games, I have a kid who wants to row, play hockey, become a shuttler and also a great archer. He wants to get all the medals possible to India and make India a rich country!! Someone told him that Britishers took away all our Gold and Olympics is happening in London, so he thinks he can get them back!!

You can say I achieved what I wanted - a child who knows many games and is interested in all. But trouble was still there... I found him watching the India-Sri Lanka match with much more attention than ever. So to be sure if I succeeded I asked him, "Lovu, when you become an archer or a shuttler won't you miss cricket?" He replied without looking at me "Mamma, Olympics happen every four years, so rest of the time I will play cricket and will play all the other games once in every 4 years!!!" Surprisingly I was happy to hear this, I loved his passion for cricket. He is a true Indian after all!! Whatever happens to us, cricket is our religion!!

Are you 'IN'? I am 'OUT"

Often now and then I hear people saying - 'I am not materialistic at all'. I am sure saying so is 'IN' nowadays. You say so not because you mean so, but because you want to sound so.

Now, someone with a nice house, a great car and an awesome wardrobe once told me - "I am not materialistic, I can live without all these if the person I love is with me." That made me wonder if the same is true for me.

I thought and thought and realized that I am damn materialistic. Of course I am, I could have been content with a loving husband and a small house had I not been materialistic. I searched for a bigger house like a lunatic and then zeroed in on this after it satisfied all my materialistic needs. It is a big house, with sunny and bright rooms, 24 hours water connection, closer to schools and market and all. To top it, my materialistic mind was overjoyed to see that this house has a balcony too, which is scarce in Mumbai.  Then did I stop at that??  NO, I wanted the best colour on the wall, the best curtains, perfectly matching kitchen etc etc.......  the materialistic craving goes on......

Once the house was done, I was frantically researching for a car. Nowadays, Internet is such a boon, you can search for anything and anyone. Had it not been for Internet, how could you have read this silly piece of writing? Anyways, so I searched and loved the spunky Chevy Beat!. And I bought one.

You think that's all?? No dear friends no, nothing can stop me.....  now I love all possible flower vases, wall paintings, cutlery, bedsheets, curtains and all.....so I keep on buying them all the time. I also keep on buying dresses - sarees, salwars, jeans, tops, skirts, gowns....you name them and I have them, you name them again and I crave for one more and buy.

So, after giving it a proper thought I have realised that by no means I can say that I am NOT materialistic. So I have an altered dialogue for me - "I am extremely materialistic, I can live with the person I love only if he provides all these things that I crave for and agree to buy me dresses every second weekend and indulges me." I know I am not sounding 'IN', but then being 'OUT' is such a bliss and fun!! After all, we just have one life!!

Precious 2 minutes!

We casually mention - 2 minutes - innumerable times in a day, but do we really know what it means? Let me throw some light on it....

I was getting ready for office one morning, Ishan was at home with my sister. Suddenly he came to me and said 'aami du minute tomaar kole boshbo' (wanna sit on your lap for 2 mins!). I had no time but still could not refuse his innocent plea...so I was sitting with him for 2 minutes....  it was only 2 minutes, trust me. By the time I came out of my building I saw that my bus which takes me to the station was gone. I could see it going....shit missed it by 2 minutes. Then it took me a while to get a rick. Somehow I reached the station to see I was on time for my local (train). But to reach to that platform I had to climb the stairs and by the time I reached the platform I could see the train moving away. Gosh, missed the train by fraction of seconds!!  Local missed is horrible in Mumbai.

Local missed means I will not get to see the familiar faces, who will somehow or the other make place for me to stand comfortably and get down araam se. Local missed means I will miss out on the gossips of the train friends (in Mumbai we have train friends too). Local missed means I will miss out on Siddhivinayak prasad, or Sai Baba prasad or ghar mein pooja tha wala prasad. It can also mean missing out on the compliments which you get for wearing even ordinary dresses, now these compliments are such mood boosters I tell you. Even if you wear a very very ordinary dress your train friends will definitely say - "yeh tere pe bahut achcha lag raha hai yaar". Now that works how insulin works for diabetics!  

So I missed out on all those things that day. I got into the next train.....people were not ready to move and make place for me the way my train friends would have done. They were cursing me for carrying this huge a laptop bag and also a handbag. While getting down at Kurla, I almost had to fight my way out and my mood was spoilt for the day. Then I found my TLs and managers annoying, also my colleagues nosey and at home I found all possible faults with my husband.

Next day, my husband made sure my son does not ask me for my precious 2 minutes. He also made sure I got my bus. He called me and asked - You got your train today right.....great to know that.....  now I was so busy garnering compliments for my simple cotton salwaar kameej that I did not give it a thought as to why would he feel great if I got the train!!  ...am thinking now......

Strength of the Umbilical Cord

Read an article where Salim Khan said that Salman Khan is not married because he looks for his mother's qualities in his would be life partner. This left me thinking and I realised that it is not only true for Salman but probably for all men. Then I wondered if my husband is also like that....and to my utter surprise I realised that yes he is!!! 10 years of marriage and I never realised it earlier! Now I know why he did not appreciate the moong dal that I made last Sunday, definitely he was comparing it with his Mom's dal. Now I can see that every instance where he did not appreciate my efforts, are because he found it lacking compared to his Mom's. God I was blind all these years.

A feminist was born that day!! All thanks to Salim Khan.

I started hating all men who think Mom is the best and wife has a long way to go. I became a staunch supporter of the Wife Club (if any). We wives, have to suffer so much because of this Umbilical Cord attachment. That was the time when the newspapers also started featuring reports about 'How Men Can Never Break the Umbilical Cord' or similar reports. Were such reports always there in the newspapers and I ignored? Or is it that the world has awakened along with me to this bitter truth?

Anyways, I the poor soul, continued with my life with a resolution, that the day he utters one word of comparison, he will know why people say "Ghayal Sherni bahut khatarnaak hoti hai".

My son, my love was playing one day with his word making game. And he made the word MARRIAGE on the board, turned towards me and said - "Mamma I will marry Aryan!" I was numb with shock for a few moments (which did not look like moments at all). Then slowly I came back to my senses and tried to reason out things with him. "Lovu you cannot marry a boy, because you are a boy. Look at mamma, she is a girl and so she married a  boy. That's how it has to be." He looked at me scornfully and said - "Arya is a girl mamma." What a relief!! I did not know why I added the alphabet 'N' and panicked. Then trying to be normal and with a forced smile I asked- "how does she look?" "She looks alright mamma". "If she looks just alright then we will find someone who looks very very pretty because you are my prince Lovu". "No mamma, Arya is the one. She does not cry and does not take nonsense. You push her once she will push you twice. You say something bad to her and she will teach you a lesson. She is very strong. She is good at studies too and is very intelligent."

Till now I never knew that a 7 year old can think so much.... I was dumb when I was that young. So, softly I asked - "that's why you want to marry her?" He left his board game, turned towards me and said - "I want to marry her because she is like you ......  totally like you ...strong and all other qualities. So I will marry her!" He turned towards his board game again.

That was the best day of my life. I was happy and ready to jump with joy, when it flashed through my mind  - isn't this a symptom of Umbilical Cord attachment?

Realisation dawned on me  - I AM NO FEMINIST, JUST AN OPPORTUNIST!!

P.S. I truly hope he never gets to know my grades.

When you think past is behind you!!

After 10 years of marriage and mothering a 7 year old son, the only thing that is in my mind nowadays is to be back in shape! No, it does not mean that I have no shape now. I have one... a very much loved one by my son. He finds immense pleasure in jumping into my lap, which acts as a cushion for him. He loves to pinch (not hard) my oversized arms saying 'Mamma, so soft'. I, the always wanting to go back to shape I, find solace in his words.

So what went wrong, when did this craving for going slim creep into my mind? Well, after being super thin all my life, my world changed when Ishan came to my life. No it is not baby weight, I shed that immediately after his birth. This is weight which I gained because I could not stop eating for two people, way after he was born!!  Yes, you heard it right. The pregnancy hunger pangs never left me. Now I am consciously trying to put an end to that craving, sending a strong message to my body - "enough, there is no kid inside and you don't need that much food!"

People who kept on saying "don't you get food" all my growing up years, changed their dialogue - 'you gained so much weight'. I don't know if the problem is with them or me. I mean these are the same people who had issues with my 'NO Weight' state....and now when I have gained some instead of appreciating they are complaining again!!  Yeah I know, I did not gain weight to make them happy, but when they have a chance to be happy why they are not??

I have no major concern about my weight gain, more so when I am not having any problem in my day to day life. But then people.....these people......why don't they let my past be past and accept me as I am.

Well guys, I am the same person you knew always......  yes with extra weight but still the same. Please let my past rest in peace!!