A fifteen month old mother

Being a mother - what it has taught me

Are you all scared with that ambitious title, don't be. These are not trade secrets, just asides that we tend to ponder over on lazy Saturday afternoons.

Lazy Saturday afternoon, what?! - Did I just say 'lazy' and 'afternoon' in the same sentence, that too one after the other?! I must have been hallucinating. Such things cease to exist the moment you become a mother (or probably when you are pregnant). Really, the chores keep increasing, and I am not talking just about the household ones, but the baby-related ones, personal ones, professional ones, what not. So, what do you do when you desperately need a lazy Saturday afternoon? Have one, ignore the chores for some time and laze around, or crotchet, or catch a movie, or chat with your it-has-been-two-years-since-I-spoke-to-you friend, or a million other things that you want to do. Or, you can be simple, just sleep. I swear, taking an afternoon off is easier said than done.

Odor desensitized - It is not just the pee, poo, and spit (I haven't graduated yet to smelly socks, can't wait!). There would be that tiniest bit of subji coated roti piece that you gave your baby the previous week and which you thought he/she finished up like an angel, but which you would discover in that little nook right next to the showcase which can't be reached by your broom, but by your nose. And did I mention how it would not resemble a roti piece anymore? After all, it was regurgitated and spit up you see...

Who is that clown, oh yeah, me! - Need to do funny faces? Sing in a falsetto? Dance like no one's watching (heck, I ensure no one's watching!)? Play hide-and-seek until you are tired of it? Read the same book million times? Sing the same song a billion times? Anything, anything to ensure that your eardrums don't give up on you.

Need a candid, ask me - Who needs Professional photographers! Behind every successful picture of my baby laughing and giving a cute pose are hundreds of rejected pictures. You have no clue, how much a child can resist being photographed, or when they become more aware it is even more difficult to get a picture in which they don't pose. You really, really learn to capture moments. Not just in the camera, when you sit and think for a moment and realize that time is running way more faster than you want it to (and sometimes not just fast enough), you learn to capture those moments in your heart too.

Selective hearing - Did I mention about my eardrums failing on me? Well, yeah, it happens. So, to save your ears from all the shrieking, crying (I want that knife right now, my life depends on tearing that important piece of paper and eating it, I need you to sing that song the 87690238909th time kind of tears), sounds of toys (you have no clue how annoying they can be. There is only so much of row row row your boat, you can listen to), sounds of vessels clashing (yes, it doesn't matter how much you spent on that new toy, nothing beats the good old vessels), did I mention crying, sounds of the toys thrown on the floor (and trying not to imagine cleaning them up, again), you need to learn to selectively hear things. You have to just tune out, there is absolutely nothing else to do.

Dubbing for a monster - Remember that incompetent ex-boss shouting at you for something that was not your mistake? The rage you felt then is nothing compared to what your child can induce in you (the same child who can make you so happy that you would burst with it). Children are capable of giving you the extremes of emotions, sometimes conflicting ones right over each other. So, when that rage hits you, you would be shocked to know that you can effortlessly dub for the ghost in Exorcist in your native language. And if for a moment you think your child will be scared of you, yes they will be, only for a moment. It doesn't work after that. That monster voice is actually to calm yourself down - telling (read, lying) yourself that you have indeed gotten your child's attention and given your piece of mind, you can regain your peace (which will probably last for the next two minutes).

Make way, Houdini! - It is indeed a pity that no one asked Houdini to put his child to sleep and leave the room without the child waking up. If they had, he would have surrendered. Did you know that once you become a mother your body has sensors which alerts the baby? Yes, it is true, I swear! You practice your escape and then the baby will learn how you do it. And you would have to hatch a new plan, and well, it goes on.

Multitasking - Putting your child to sleep and texting your friend in Whatsapp is just the beginning. You will learn to make dosa, sing rhymes and keep swatting that little hand which is trying to reach the stove top all at the same time. 

So, yeah, that's how the ride is. And no, I wouldn't trade it for the world, because it is one hell of a ride!

Unplugged... er, may be not.

I actually did it...

Eight months and counting...I have astonished myself.

I have lived without a TV for sometime now, can you believe that?!

When we moved to France, one of the crucial decisions that we took was to not have a TV. Okay, I am lying, I took the decision. My husband was all set to get us one and plant it in the living room. But, with an infant to take care and here-before never attempted household chores looming before me, I told him that I wouldn't have time to watch it anyway and told him not to waste money on it. And before you all get the idea that I am a budget-friendly creature, I am not. That is my husband, I am the one who ends up spending more than what is necessary. So, I patted myself on my back for having taken this decision and saving money for the first time in my life, all by myself too. In fact I was euphoric.

I think, other than my mother and my mother-in-law, everyone thought I would get bored out of my wits and would end up getting one.

You know what, mothers always know better! I am not missing a single thing.

I used to watch movies. I remember my father-in-law, my partner in crime for watching movies, and I used to talk about 986th show of Terminator or the 1836th show of The Mummy Returns. I used to actually record any newly played movie and then watch it later, skipping the advertisements. (And half the times, the movie will not be worth it.) But, without a TV, I watch movies online. Other than the occasional, definitely lesser number of ads, it's much easier online.

I love our movie songs. I thought I would definitely miss all the music channels. But, no Sir, not at all. Music and movies, you can stream online and watch. So, whether I am holding my phone or I am sitting in front of my laptop, I can and do watch and listen to whatever I did before.

I used to follow Super Singer show, but I stopped after the umpteenth time I was proved that it is all, to put it categorically, match fixed. I was never masochistic enough to follow mega-serials. I am not a sports fan. Since, I am not onto high decibel shouting matches masquerading as news, I don't miss news channels either. News, books, movies, music, recipes, shows, plays, anything under the sun and beyond it is available online.

So, now that I rethink, it is not that I was "sacrificing" much, heck, I have not sacrificed anything at all!

India's children

Enough!

Really, enough!

India's daughters have been told and so have the Britain's daughters and China's daughters and Australia's daughters and USA's daughters and I-am-sure-it-happens-in-all-countries' daughters!

We have all, more than enough been proved that we live in a world filled with men capable of behaving less than human and cause severe and permanent damage to the women, girls, children, even unborn fetuses around them! Really, enough!

I was brought up in a normal middle class area in a second-tier city: I fell down from my scooter when I was learning to ride it and I have had men from my neighboring houses whom I call uncles come and help me get up and learn and ride well. I have had some other men in the same neighborhood leer and catcall when I walked from my bus stop to my home. If I begin to think every man who's my father's age will behave like a father, I am an idiot. But, if I end up thinking every man, whatever his age is going to be a molester, I am more than an idiot.

I have had male friends, my classmates, to whom I could cry that I have stomach cramps and have them get me medicines, I have also had boys, my classmates again, call me names because I decided to get up on a desk and fix a streamer for a function: it's not a girl's job, you see!

I have seen boys and men, brought up in this patriarchal society, demean me - without even realizing that they are doing so - thinking that it is "best" for a girl. I have also seen boys and men, brought up in this same society, treat me like I want to be treated: not like a goddess, not like a dew drop, not like I am incapable; but as a human, as a person with a fully functioning thought process.

That's all we need, really, that is all!

I have not, to my eternal gratitude, seen any boy or man around me capable of the amount of violence that some of my brethren have had the ill luck of seeing. I don't claim to understand what the victims have gone through; much less, the survivors of sexual crimes have gone through. I am not being a know-it-all and saying that this is a phase and it will pass or some such crap.

Rapes are not sexual crimes, they have much more complicated reasons than simple lust. It happens in India, yes, but not just in India, also yes, but that doesn't mean we have to get our hackles raised now because a foreigner decided to do a number on us. It's okay, we withstood East India Company, I am sure we can survive this video.

Let us stop with all this mudslinging - this mindless, frenzied chaos!

Let us forget the damn video, let us get on with bringing up our children right!

P.S: No, my problem is not the video. My problem is the problem that came in because of it...

Fine print

They were always mocked: if not directly, then definitely behind their backs.

He was a cook in a family restaurant. She was a head constable.

"So, if a thief jumps into their house, she probably chases him away while he cowers in the kitchen", said the world.

He was reed thin, with the look of one's favorite uncle to whom you could discuss your secrets. She was built like a boxer - the result of regular training - with the look of a stern head mistress.

"They wouldn't have had anyone else to marry them, you know? So, they married each other", said the world.

Yes, it did bother them. It created some awkward moments between them. But, those moments never lasted.

Because:

When she labored to bring their pre-term baby, it was he who had the grit and determination to encourage her to breathe. He stood by her, all through the time holding her hands and never once failing to tell her that she was doing great.

Whenever he fell sick, she would cook his favorite food and took care of him: even though she would have been back from her night shift.

She thought that saree didn't suit her and that she looked awkward in it. He scoffed at her and told her she looked beautiful in it and never failed to get her flowers when she wore one.

He thought that he didn't have any worldly knowledge since he hadn't studied much. She thought that he was the prime example of how one didn't need education to be educated. And she never failed to tell that to him and others.

The world thought that they had compromised to live with each other, but it never understood how they complemented each other. It never understood how the one always needed the other to be happy. It never understood that the definition of what made a man and a woman didn't lie in the conventional beliefs, but in what one wanted to be.

After all, the world didn't get to see them sharing their lives in the way they deemed it great.

Untold...

Sometimes, she cried in the silence of the night; unseen and unheard, her tears fell: a witness to the way her heart bled.

Sometimes, she cried so very silently, that no tears came. But her heart burned and even died, just to be reborn the next minute to do its duty: after all, heart had its duties too.

Sometimes, she cried, just a little to show him how much it hurt or how much she loved: she wanted him to know that not all was rainbows and sunshine. But they were never fully shown to him, because she loved him enough to know that if she cried the way she did, it would kill him.

Sometimes, her heart didn't cry, but raged with the flames of her misery and anger and then got itself burnt with the embers of her own impotence. After all, she gave in when she should have fought more, she gave up when she should have explained, but she never did: not because she thought it was worthless, but because the nebulous peace that existed was far more important than her rage.

Sometimes, the tears filled her throat, enough to hurt her. But she swallowed it along with some water and went to bed, to forget about whatever was hurting and instead hoping that everything would be fine tomorrow.

He never knew, and probably never will: as to how important she considered her life with him was, her love for him was, that she put the others she loved in a lower pedestal. He would never know the pain of her heart breaking and making itself whole again just for his sake. He would never know how she hoped and prayed that those others whom she loved would be fine one day, so that she can forgive herself for taking his side.

Grumbling and rambling...

Sometimes, there is absolutely no shutting off your brain. It could have been a day on which one has been run to the ground completely - with your baby not being well, or a recipe made for special guests going horribly wrong or a simple day with a simple discussion ending up in a firing argument, or a physically exhausting day with arranging furniture or a really lazy day that made you feel guilty - but at the end of it you find youself in a state of absolute exhaustion that refuses to lead itself to sleep. On such nights, I think the brain decides to over compensate and starts spreading those web of thoughts that are often useless, sometimes nostalgic and very rarely profound. Of course, your brain usually convinces you that every single such thought is profound. It is only when you look back do you realize that one's brain is a conniving dog that pretends to be a puppy: a really cute puppy with giant puppy eyes.

A sample:
Did she really do something like that? How could she cheat on her husband like that? And how could x (who told me about it) still actually maintain a personal relationship with the said marital impostor? But then, what will x do? Sometimes, you tend to forgive people because you love them despite everything. But it's not just that impostor's mistakes, her husband is no less. Isn't it really sad, the kind of life you get to live when you do not give yourself wholly into a marriage? After all, when you don't give yourself completely, you assume the other hasn't as well. Why the hell am I thinking about them now? There are better things to do...hmm...anyway, it goes on to prove that all marriages are same- it could have been an arranged marriage or a self decided one, ultimately life in a marriage is so totally not what you expect or prepare yourself for. If you don't adapt, compromise and still manage to be yourself; however it began, it will definitely deteriorate. In a way, may be arranged marriages are far superior, after all you are prepared for such things. Then again, remember y? She went ahead with such a beautiful arranged marriage, only to end up being married to a psychopath and had to divorce him, so may be only love marriages will work in future. But then, z had a love marriage which failed. Why am I thinking about it? I should just be happy and content with the fact that I have a husband who loves me for myself. Isn't that simply awesome? Oh, I need to get that gift which I planned? Oh god, why is it so difficult to get gifts for men? Uhm, was that a sexist statement that I just thought? Can it be called "sexist" when a woman thinks it? May be there is another word for it, I should look it up tomorrow. Hey, of course woman can make sexist statement, after all there are so many women around who are male chauvinistic. Oh how R asked me so innocently, "He has raped her anyway, shouldn't she be happy that he is offering to marry her?" God, how could she ask that? And its been almost six years since she said that but it feels like yesterday. Oh what is it that we teach our children that can make a girl ask this question? Something is wrong in our system...what system? We are the system, aren't we?

Whew...

And if you thought it took me the same time to type out my thoughts and to actually think them, think again!
Really, somebody just leak my thoughts a little bit so that I can sleep!
Oh, now that it is out, I feel sleepy, or may be it is the sheer exhaustion of typing. But, such exhaustion usually doesn't put me to sleep, argh forget it! At least I should be happy that I had some profound thoughts... Wha...What did I just think?!!

Known demons...

I was quite young, probably not even in my teens, when a girl whom I knew quite well, told me that she was molested on a regular basis by someone whom we both knew quite well. As someone who was not familiar with the workings of the leeches and snakes of this society, I had absolutely no idea what to do with the information I had just received. All I could do, was to console her with a fairly stupid story that I had read in my comics earlier, to make her laugh - if only a little bit.

Year later, when I garnered enough courage to tell my mother about it, the issue was no longer relevant since the girl in question was no where in the vicinity of that known demon. But, my mom was shocked enough to know that someone whom we knew was capable of such an act. Even more, she was surprised that I didn't tell her earlier about it. Because, in a society that keeps telling the offended part of it to shut up and not talk to protect their "virtue", I grew up in a household which taught me that any problems faced by me as a girl - the usual groping, eve teasing and what not; that any normal, garden variety Indian girl undergoes - I am to fight back with all my might, shout out to get as much help as I can, come back and tell them and they will for sure kill the offender for me. Well, not literally kill...

Had I told her earlier, may be something could have been done. Some justice and empathy would have prevailed...I don't know! Now, it is too late for such things. All the people involved in this incident have moved on, including me. I have learned to live with myself for that mistake.

But, when I think back to it, the sheer lack of knowledge I had over that subject shocks me. Child molestation is certainly not new to us. We have seen, heard and known instances of it in our life. But, how many of us really know about it? How many of us know that it is not just little girls but also little boys who get molested? When a child is old enough to be left in someone else' care, they should be taught about good touch and bad touch. Yes, we see movies on them, share links on them, do we actually prepare ourselves to have a heart to heart talk on it to our babies?

What about the perpetrators: are we matured enough, bold enough - to question, to single out, to put the offender away; so that the person can never, ever cause such pain to another child? We, as a society, are extremely soft beings. We let go of things, we forgive and forget easily. More so in these cases because the perpetrator is usually someone known quite well to us. We worry about their family too. We worry about the implications. No, it is not a bad thing to do, just that sometimes, it is not enough to ensure that such a crime (and it IS a crime) does not happen again. But we should not forget that such pedophiles become bolder with such forgiveness. Someone, somewhere will suffer more, just because we decided not to do the right thing now.

This reminds me...

I still remember the day crystal clear - my dad, who usually drops me to school, was late for work that day, and told the cab driver who had come to pick him up to drop me off at school first and then come to take him. My mom was apprehensive about sending her teenage daughter (I think I was 13 or 14 at that time) all alone with a know-him-only-for-a-few-days cab driver (the cab service was a pretty familiar one, though). She told me semi-seriously, "If at all he tries to misbehave with you; give one punch straight on his nose, kick him in the groin and scream to raise hell." No, the driver was a decent man: he talked to me about my grades and left me at school wishing me luck for my upcoming exams. I narrated this incident because, it is such a normal thing to occur to any kid. And it can that easily be misused by someone who is not quite the decent human being that driver was.