When cricket found us

We don't own a TV. Thats also the reason why we've never sat down glued to the idiot box watching a cricket match in progress. Despite the hype of the Twenty-Twenty and IPL in our country, we didn't miss not watching a match. (Most times we couldn't figure what the furore was all about.)

Until the housing society we live in decided to make this World Cup LARGE - 16 x 12 feet LCD screen, food stalls, DJ music that pumped up the volume with every lost wicket (of the opposing side) and every sixer or boundary.

It was fun to put it mildly. The atmosphere was electric, as we watched Shahid Afridi's dismissal at the India-Pak semi-final, crackers burst, the DJ played LOUD bhangra and every single person - lounging on the grass, or occupying a chair jumped up and burst into a spontaneous dance! People high-fived, kids screeched, young and old alike celebrated in jubilation at India's world cup victory.

My daughter realised cricket was cool. She now knows most cricketing terms (she's a fast learner) and even in a restaurant, her eyes veer towards the TV screening the IPL matches. She cheers, she gets mad with bad shots/bowling, she prays, and screams "wicket wicket wicket" when India really needs it (fingers duly crossed).... Although she is still confused about which IPL team she wants to support, she has found an endearing new interest.

The son, on the other hand, went down every evening, cricket bat and ball in tow (replaced by the completely useless bey-blade), soon after the semi-final but came right back up and exclaimed, "I can't bat, because the bat is too heavy. But I can ball."

And bowl he can! He sprints and has learned the jumping-in-air move before throwing the ball at the batsman. He practices at home (scaring the daylights out of me as the ball bounces off my precious crystal ware), and the cricket gear has found an almost permanent place in the living room.

He also likes watching but even during a match, he'd rather play.

Me thinks, there is good reason to maybe, just maybe, buy a TV!

Learning

I remember that when I was a child I would often hear my parents and their friends discussing the ruling Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. This was after the Emergency in 1977 and they'd witnessed the atrocities of the era. They said, power can corrupt anyone. When it comes to power, gender is incidental.

Recently I have witnessed that closely in a completely different context.

In the last few years I have watched a few friends go through separations and divorces, some nasty, some not. But all these friends so far have been women. I've participated in the occasional (ex) husband bashing, name calling, offering support as needed and when possible, given the patient ear, cried with them, lent moral support etc

It is only recently that I have been witness to a power struggle between a couple where my friend is the "he".

In understanding his struggles I have come to understand a few things very very clearly:

1. Yes. Hell hath no fury like a woman. Period. She can be all-consuming in her vengeance and anger

2. There are no boundaries - no lines she can't cross, in words and actions. Decency and dignity become alien words.

3. Children are used as pawns to score brownie points over the spouse

4. Tears are also used as pawns. She can shed them at will, anywhere, anytime turning the spouse into the instant villain (yes, like the Maggi two minute noodles)

5. Unmentionable horror is implied to others about the spouse's behaviour/conduct/attitude etc.

6. She is, at all times, believable. She is the victim. She is the destitute (her gender works in her favour)

7. She can get away with it all because traditionally its the man who is the perpetrator of such heinousness.

If I replace the "she" with "he", I will be able to substitute many of my girlfriend's spouses in the list (I could negate points 4, 6 and 7 but that would be a bias).

My learning from this:

Relationships are like jigsaw puzzles. They may be many ways to play the game, but in the end, the result is the same - a complete picture.

Gender biases are in our heads. When two people fall out of love, there are no wrongs or rights, no blacks or whites, it is only upbringing and values that determine how each one reacts or restrains.

Why not just hold me?

Son walked home with an angry and sad expression together. I guessed it was a fight with a peer.

He did not allow me to touch him or talk to him..pushed me away even as he continued crying.

Why do we often push away the people who love us in our time of grief or sadness? Why don't we let them reach out to us...console us, talk to us?

Because people we love take it upon themselves to "resolve" our problems... They offer us ridiculous solutions, if they're not already criticizing what went wrong and how our attitude or reaction could have been different. Or they smother us with their concern, making us feel hopelessly stupid...

I let him be.

I knew he would come back to me and talk it out.

I was right.

FaceBuking my life

Today I changed my Relationship status on FaceBook from "Married" to "Its complicated."

For a change hubby noticed and asked me about it.

Look at the things I have to do to grab his eyeballs!!!

Undeserving

This morning my daughter walked out of the house for school in a huff. She left her breakfast uneaten, the cup of milk untouched.

All because as I braided her hair, I gave her a piece of mind for being rude, for answering back, for not knowing how to "talk to mama" over a trivial issue...

I know that she will have forgotten the incident by evening and will come home with her usual smile and hugs...

Somehow I have an expectation - of being treated and spoken to like a "mom" and I don't know if its misplaced... My reaction to this sense of loss of control or authority has left me sad, confused and embarrassed!

There's much I need to learn to be a mother worthy of such beautiful kids...

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Temped to share this... Whacked it off Arunima's blog.. Thank you!!!

Before I was a Mom I made and ate hot meals.

I had unstained clothing, I even took pleasure in shopping.

I had quiet, uninterrupted conversations on the phone.

I had privacy in the bathroom.

Before I was a Mom, I slept as late as I wanted and never cared about the time I went to bed.

I was able to sleep the entire night uninterrupted and woke up with a feeling of being well-rested and ready for a new day.

Before I was a Mom, I never got up every few minutes, stopping whatever I was doing - voluntarily, just to be sure all in the house was okay or to lay my hand on the back of a sleeping child to be sure they were breathing and not feverish.

I brushed my hair and my teeth every day. I enjoyed leisurely bubble baths whenever I wanted.

I had time to clean house and read a magazine.

Before I was a Mom, I renewed my spirit by having lit candles burning all through the house; never nervous about that practice injuring fingers or being a fire hazard.

I never tripped over toys or forgot words to lullabies and nursery rhymes. I was confident.

I was not concerned about the paint on the wall, leaving a window open or the front gate unlocked.

I never worried whether or not my houseplants were poisonous or what I kept under the kitchen sink or where I kept the sharp knives.

I never gave a second thought to the safety of electrical outlets or the accessibility of the medicine chest.

Before I was a Mom, the word "immunizations" meant almost nothing to me. 

I had never held down a screaming, fearful child so that a doctor could do tests or give shots.

I had never been puked on, spit on, chewed on, pooped and peed on or pinched by tiny fingers.

I had forgotten how real monsters hide in closets without a night-light on and that bed-bugs bite too.

Before I was a Mom, I had complete control of my thoughts, my emotions, my body and my money.

I never looked into little teary eyes and cried myself. 

I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.

I never sat up late watching a child sleep, while praying over their future and being thankful to God for today.

Before I was a Mom, I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the physical pain or ease the emotional hurt.

I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.

I never knew that I could love someone so much. I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom, I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body, or the necessity of having eyes in the back of my head, or the importance of having three hands.

I didn't know how special it would feel to hold and feed a hungry baby, kiss a boo-boo or to offer comfort in the middle of a thunder storm.


I never held a sleeping infant because I did not want to let go.


I never knew the delight of small arms hugging my neck.

I didn't know the bond between a Mother and her child could be so strong.

Before I was a Mom, I did not know anyone so small could make me feel so important and needed.

I had taken for granted the special moments and milestones I had been blessed to witnessed in the lives of others - like first steps and first words - the sound of a tiny voice whispering "Mommy?" for the first time - the discovery of rain and snow - the first taste of a cookie - and so much more.

No, I had never experienced the warmth, joy, heartache, wonderment, commitment, responsibility or the satisfaction that comes from the knowledge and understanding of what it means to be willing to self-sacrifice.

Now, I can appreciate the over-protectiveness of my own Mom, because I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much - before I was a Mom.

I can't speak Marathi but I do love Maharashtra

Long ago I wrote a post on the regional rhetoric that some politicians in Maharashtra were indulging in. I was unhappy not only because technically I am a North Indian living in Maharashtra but I am also a hybrid of our beautiful multi-cultural country.

But those were the days when my love affair with Pune had only just begun and soon the rhetoric faded into the background. The salubrious weather, the friendly people...there was so much so beautiful about this new city we'd chosen to call home.

I was so busy soaking the vibrancy of the city that I didn't realise I'd lived here for four years and committed the biggest faux pas of all - hadn't learnt to speak Marathi.

My work involves meeting people from all walks of life. So while some days I am leaving harried footprints in the corridors of the municipal corporation, on other days I am sipping tea in the air conditioned comfort of the district collector's office.

All this while - from the peons to the officers I met, no one was uncomfortable with the fact that I couldn't speak Marathi, although I could understand a lot of the local dialect.

When close friends or well wishers quizzed me on the progress of my language skills, I reassured them that I was on my way. Soon I had promised myself I would be able to speak like any Puneri.

Imagine then my shock and indignation when during a meeting with an IAS officer (a Maharashtrian) I was asked to read a letter he'd written in response to the issue I was sitting in his office and shamelessly raising (much to his annoyance), and I informed him apologetically that I could not read Marathi, he actually ridiculed me for not learning the language!

What irked me was that he, an IAS officer who'd chosen to join the cadre of his home state and not serve the citizens of another state (may be because he doesn't know any other Indian language) had no idea that I am a North Indian who was born and raised in Kerala, had Tamilian neighbours, Gujarati and Punjabi friends and married a Telugu speaking guy, and can speak all the languages of these regions in addition to my mother tongue Hindi and English!

Needless to say, my pride and ego propped me up against his tirade and I informed him rather haughtily that I was able to get by with Hindi and English even in Maharashtra. 

And even as I uttered the words with a I-don't-care-who-you-are demeanour (while I was seething inside), I knew what I'd said wasn't true. I was making a genuine effort to learn the language and I'd often try my limited vocabulary on unsuspecting souls...simply because I love languages!!! 

Now, I am pissed off and unsure. Do I let his ignorance get the better of me, or do I ignore such nasty and unbecoming remarks?

Or better still, do I barge into his office and tell him what I really think???

Acknowledgement

Im not fine with it

Im not as brave as I thought I was

Im not as strong as I thought I was

Im hurting

Im seething

And Im sad

All at once

Just want to let you know dear world

Im human, fallible, weak, egoistic

And Im a victim of ME

Congratulations brother!

This memory is very clear - I remember seeing glimpses of the tiny baby through the bars of the metal cradle, sleeping on his side, fists folded ... as my mother lay on the bed beside him still unconscious after the C section.

The year was 1982 and my littlest brother had just wriggled his way into our near-perfect world.

I remember mom going to the hospital, although the exact time frames are a blur.

I remember climbing on a table in the room as she sat eating dal-chawal for lunch one afternoon before he was born despite her gentle warnings not to do so. Eventually, the badly balanced table tottered to one side and fell, and I slipped off it, just in time. Meanwhile the water flask (a tall squeezy 'imported' one) slipped off as well and we heard the shattering of the glass inside it.

I remember my grandmother losing her cool but I also remember maa embracing me, shielding me from any more verbal onslaughts.

I remember being called home early from school one day, when she was hospitalised. I remember hearing my father talk to his elder brother in Bombay informing him that she had gone into labour and that he would be leaving for the hospital 10 kms away.

I remember maa being wheeled into surgery because the very senior doctor who had also delivered my other brother five years before told us that the umbilical cord was wound around the neck of the baby and a surgery was necessary. I remember her words "Mr Goyal I may have to choose between mother and child" and I remember dad saying "Choose my wife" or some such....

I remember climbing the window sills of the hospital, the narrow benches in long corridors with an office staff for company as tense moments passed, my brother was born and my mother safely wheeled back into the room.

I was eight when he was born. Old enough to remember a lot and young enough to forget a lot.

What I do clearly remember is how much fun it was to have a toy-like living being in our midst. We bathed him, taught him to speak, recorded his blabbers on tape...and I dropped him off to the nearby Nursery School with the pride only an elder sister could exhibit.

Sharing a room with two boys often left me mad and I remember asking mom why she wanted 'another' son :-) Why could I not have a sister like my other friends? Their boy games irritated me and the presence of cars, GI Joe's, guns and the like made me rave and rant.

Of course there were some incredibly funny moments that I remember to this day - Both brothers were playing daaku and police. Rahul who idolised Amitabh Bachan was ALWAYS Inspector Vijay in their role playing (armed with a gun in a khakhi police uniform my mother bought him). The younger one was the daaku, the menacing dacoit who shouted from one end of the corridor during their fast paced chase scene, "Inspector Vijay come out right now. I've captured your sister!!!" (Inspector Vijay bahaar aaja, teri behen mere kabze mein hai.)

We were close in many ways... Even after I left for college I would come back home and complete his science projects. He would discuss the in-talk about girl friends with me, sharing secrets he dared not discuss with mom. He was the first family member to meet my hubby when I was dating him.


Many years later I would watch him metamorphose into a thinking being...a man, capable of living alone, managing his finances and life, falling in love and having the fortitude to see it through.

Now he is getting married.

As we welcome his chosen life partner into our family I can't help but marvel at the time that has lapsed because every memory is so fresh...and I can't tell him what it means to me to watch as he moves into another phase of his life.

All I can say is Congratulations bro..You did well :-)

Road accidents

Ever witnessed a road accident? I can't sleep for nights on end when I hear about a road accident death.

It happened again, yesterday, when we received the news of the death of an officer my husband had served with on INS Rajput over four years ago...a young, able bodied, "mast", full-of-life, father of two little ones, husband to a graceful and petite young woman, in a road accident...in Mumbai over a week ago. A friend gave us the news...and this is all we know. How, where, what about the family....all a mystery.

And yet, I can imagine the horryifying way he must have met his end...coz my hubby and I have been witnesses to two road accidents, one in which our effort managed to save a human life, and the second, we were too late. The young man was dead by the time we noticed his body lying in the middle of the road as we were returning from a party late one night.

His mangled body, the way his limbs had ripped apart from his torso, twisted, the way his brain lay splattered all over the tar road and the pools of blood that started to flow from the immobile body.... We'd been unable to sleep for many many days after that...and each time I hear of a death in a road accident, my mind goes back to that horrifying scene from five years ago.... The young man who had lost his life was just about 24 years old. He rammed his bike into a tractor trailer parked by the side of a busy industrial route. He was not wearing his helmet...because we found his helmet hung around the handle. The tractor had no tail lamps to warn that it was parked there. There were no street lamps too. The young man must have been at a reasonably good speed because the impact of the crash was all around. All the factors, multiplied together, and kaboom....ageing parents from Chandigarh lost their son, the Indian Navy lost an officer, a sister lost her brother....

Was the end of life meant to be so simple? A flash...and gone!!!!! How fragile our human body is...and look at how we treat it sometimes...little realising that when it matters, at that decisive moment, our muscles, bones, flesh...will fall apart like a pack of cards....

The man was not a very dear friend...an aquantaince really, but I keep thinking of the family he has left behind....of the little kids, the oldest a little over 6..... And these thoughts will dominate my mind every time I will get behind the wheel and try to nonsensically overtake that bus or car, or drive at break neck speed to make it to the appointment on time, or try stupid stunts like answering the mobile phone or fiddling with the airconditioning or changing the music channel.....or until the news of another death, of a friend, relative, acquaintance that brings back those horrible memories and make me swear that I will behave decently on the road. 


If I still forget it all, it will be ofcourse, just until I get knocked down someday and become a statistic.

Why don't we humans ever learn?????



2004

Mama Bear

Received the following via e mail ages ago. I am sure most women and all mothers will identify with it!!!!!!

If you are a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months. I could deal with that! 

Before you hibernate, you are supposed to eat like crazy. I could deal with that too!

If you are a bear, you birth your children (who are the size of walnuts) while you are sleeping (hibernating) and wake to partially grown, cute, cuddly cubs. I could definetely deal with that!

If you are a Mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too. I could deal with that!

If you are a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling. He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

YEP, I WANNA BE A BEAR !!!!!!!