Enough has already been said....

As someone who is normal, trust me, I share all the emotions that each one of you has for everything that has marked our existence in the last 15 days. I am someone who has led a city life- to be precise, I have led the Delhi life. I have been to college in this city and having traveled in the public transport I know how it feels when someone touches you without your permission! I am active on social media hence I have read each and every post that has circulated in this regard. I am a mother, so I relate to the pain of the girl's mother who saw her baby suffer for days. I am a woman whose husband once slapped someone in the middle of the market when she raised an alarm that a guy was trying to 'act' smart, whose brother literally wraps her between his arms when we are making our way into a crowded cinema hall, whose father bought her a car when a Blue Line bus driver almost killed her one afternoon.

But in a way I am not all that normal too. I have a set of family living in the smaller towns and even rural part of our country. When I witness the anger, anguish and apparent practicality of my FB or twitter contacts, there is only one thought that makes me NOT believe in the urgency with which the myriad solutions are being provided. Because I have interacted with 'Indians' who belong to 'the other India', I know that these solutions are not easy to come by. They aren't long term. They are so NOT the solutions!

Respecting a woman is not one of the things that are part of a normal Mother-child curriculum in these parts of our country. Boys learn about the women, by observing how their fathers treat them. They have better things in the world to worry about- like how will they go to school everyday or how will they pass the exams. They have things like- how to kill time when there is no electricity for 12 hours- to worry about. I can imagine that if today I sit down with some cousins and uncles who are still in my native place, they will say- "Hua to bahut bura par raat ko ladke ke saath bahar jaayegi, to aur kya hoga uske saath?". Its not that they are insensitive. They are just conditioned to equate a woman's freedom with her being "loose" or "prone to disaster". And they are not even wrong. For years they have protected their women from other men! Hence all the notions of a "proper" time to come back home and "proper" way to dress were developed.

That is why I say that by putting up possible ideas on twitter or blogs or FB, will not give you the REAL solution. You know what will? Going to the root of this mentality which still exists in those parts of our country where you have not yet been. Reaching out to the "majority" of India and curtailing these thoughts from where the seeds are sown. Not assuming that rapes do not happen in richer societies but definitely the brutality or shamelessness of even assuming that a girl who is alone is definitely "open" for your trespass- starts in these pockets! Those cousins of mine and their friends, will never ever get to read how you think women are not objects or are stronger. Yes, if your insistence makes the rape law strict, they will get capital punishment when they commit this crime, but its the solution of the AFTER. Figure out a way to prevent the BEFORE. 

Be angry- but channelize it to where it is required. Heard enough about how you FEEL, time to tell everyone how you can CHANGE THINGS! Because the former is mere convenient, its the latter that will uplift us as a nation.....

Have you answered it yet?

The most potent question in every homemaker's life is a one she inevitably has to answer every single day. No, its not about how she passes her time or how much 1 kg of sugar costs these days. Its nothing to do with her children or husband. Its not even to do with her interests or dislikes. Its one which is of even graver importance. One that determines and governs how the moods (and everything to do with it) will remain of her family members.

Being a homemaker for some time this observation is in my opinion the biggest hurdle in conducting our day to day lives- smoothly. My education at D.P.S, DU and even an MBA degree prepared me a great deal in handling problems related to time management, multi tasking and organisation of household chores but it has so badly failed in giving me a permanent solution to this particular problem. This question, however insignificant and easy it may sound, definitely is the seed that builds happiness and cheer around the house. Still every time I ask my family members to answer it on my behalf I get a similar answer- "Is this even a question?"

Oh c'mon it is! Try answering it each day- each day without fail. Try answering it wrong for one day and all you will hear from everyone is- "What is this yaar?", "Why this?", "Again???". And every time you will hear all this, you will appear like a criminal. A criminal who despite being punished many times, repeats his mistakes out of sheer habit!

So much so that I think its a great business idea to connect home makers around the world on a platform where every day they can together answer this question and those who are not actively answering, can at least benefit by reading other active members!

How many have guessed what question it is?

It is:

"Aaj khaane main kya banega?"

Dear Santa, please take over....for real :)

So everyone who is reading this knows Santa's reality. Some of us did believe in him when we were kids. Some were always smart enough to doubt him. Me and my brother belong to the category where even when we knew he wasn't the one giving us gifts, we rushed to our parent's room with absolutely false but totally jubilant cries of : "See Papa, Santa Claus gave us this and that"! I am not saying that our parents were playing along without knowing that we know- but it was all so much fun :)

Today when I am the Santa for V and N, the fun is different. With so much exposure to Santa, Mickey Mouse and Superman all around, poor kids know from now itself that I am their Santa. So when I tell them that if they do not behave properly Santa will not gift them anything, they smile back at me and say -"Don't be so angry Mom". This is so not good. Is there anything left now which is fantasy for my kids?

I am unable to control this exposure. I cannot lie to them blatantly when they ask me if there is an Uncle inside the Donald Duck suit. Because while it was easy or seamless for me to not come up with this question when I was a kid (as such occurrences were rare), its fairly commonplace for my kids to know whats inside the suit. They are smarter and definitely more aware than me.

You know what is my solution to still let the innocence and naivety of these rituals remain? I never cease to practice them anyway. I never tell my kids- "There is no Santa Claus! So you will not get anything from us". Even if they know its us, I always keep a gift under their pillow and when they thank me, I look up in the sky(in front of them) and thank the Santa Claus I grew up with and say : "Thank you for making me gift Viraj and Nevaan the things they love" and trust me they join in too :)

No, I do not want V and N to not know the "truth" behind everything. Its not that I don't want them to be practical and mature about life. Its just that today I have realized how my parents have shaped my life by insulating me from certain realities. I know what it meant to believe and trust them blindly. If I cannot STOP them from knowing even the 'bad' side of things, at least I can up the quotient of 'goodness' in their basic life learnings.

Dilli shilly tey winter weddings

Having lived in Delhi all my life it may sound criminal to not like winters. Actually its not that I don't like them.....I HATE them. As October begins, and the slight chill settles in, you can see me literally shivering around the house. As time progress and winters assume their most monstrous nature, I wear 2 socks, one dirty monkey cap, 3 layers of sweaters and my hands are never out of my sweat shirt pockets. Also please add a continuous sound that I make while moving around to complete the image (its like "Oooo...hoooo.....sheeeee"). These layers don't even come off while sleeping and my husband fails to understand how can someone HATE winters. No prizes for guessing that he adores this weather. This is one more point in our list of "Opposites attract" category.

Tonight I have a wedding to attend. And a Non-Delhite must know that how much ever the temperature drops or fog descends, women cannot carry shawls or cardigans in Dilli. Its how we attend weddings. We wear heavy sarees and sleeveless blouses! Our husbands and kids will be in jackets and gloves, but we will ALWAYS be without any such protective gear. I mean if we have to cover our silk drapes and jewelry with shawls, why are you making us attend a wedding dude? 

So what will we do? We will smile our best. Answer silly questions thrown at us like "Thand nahi lag rahi tumhe?". Quietly rub our hands when no one is looking. Hunt for a angeethi and force our husbands to accompany us around it hence restricting their movement. Sip on hot watery soup and then coffee. The time when we hold those heavy plates and finish food, our hands are frozen. But we go on....and on and on. If the wedding is a 'courtesy one' (like the one I will be attending tonight), we finish up with a hot gulab jaamun and make quick exit towards our car. But god forbid if we have to stay till the feras, we will put our sleeping kids on the sofas, and eventually give in to our husband's pleas of getting that shawl out from the car. Now the decision whether the shawl should cover our kids or us- is a tough one to make! But we still decide either ways and sail through the torture.

But Delhi and its weddings are best only in its signature winters. Because Delhi and its summer weddings are a punishment. Having made my family and friends endure this punishment during my own wedding, I better repent all my life by giving up on my shawls for all the wise people who have winter weddings :)

You and I.....in this unromantic world :)

A few days ago Twitter, Facebook, News and everything else that reaches out to millions was filled with Yash Chopra's demise. YAWN. Nothing new with that. Happened with Jagjit Singh, Shammi Kapoor, Dev Anand , Rajesh Khanna, Jaspal Bhatti blah blah.

It is sad no doubt. The whole process of losing someone and coping with that void is tedious, overwhelming and rather painful. In all the above cases though, since the loss isnt personal, its easier to simply type a RIP and move on.

I was myself coming to terms with a recent personal loss when I happened to check my FB wall and got to know about Mr Yash Chopra's end. Instantly a smile sat on my lips. Death definitely evades no one. However unfair it may seem, it is undoubtedly something we must learn to deal with!

But I have a connection with Mr Chopra. An uncanny one. Its silly but its my connection (most things about me are silly, no?). I owe the planning of my Honeymoon to him! The fact that I carried a chiffon saree on my honeymoon is all courtesy him. Eventually I did not show courage like his heroines to wear it- now thats a different matter! Till date if Saurabh teases me to have carried one- is because Mr Chopra made me believe that ITS POSSIBLE to wear it in the snow clad Swiss Alps!! I may not have worn it, but I did make Saurabh stand like Shahrukh with his arms stretched (he looked such a horrid version of SRK) and I ran quite a distance into his arms. The minute I did that Saurabh said- "Ho gaya honeymoon??"

I dont know if my sons will ever relate to this cheekiness of a romance (their father never does) but one thing is for sure- I fully do!

And why just romance? Its the typical tear jerking and strikinlgy effortless Indian-ness that he froze and framed in my head. For me when Amitabh Bachchan told Preity Zinta that -" Apne Ma bauji se kaiye ki ek Saath saal ka hindustani unnano diye tere sanskaro ko salaam karta hai"- I cried :)

To Saurabh....on an empty stomach :)

We move along
night and day
We fall and rise
you hope, I pray.

You think about it
I feel
You act on it
I deal.

We are not alike
infact poles away
Still we do not want it
any other way.

A fast will not reinforce
it will neither strengthen
A day cannot determine
so I will not even mention

You and I
till we exist
will continue to surrender
to the promise a midst

Our two extensions
Our friendship
My reverence for you
and your admiration :)

Does every mother have a choice?

Last evening was a bad one. No idea why so much gloominess is packed in this one year for me but definitely I am tired of this now.

Saurabh surprised me by coming back home from work at least an hour earlier than his usual time. I was so excited to see him that I got down (we live on the 1st floor) to our gate to receive him. As soon as I step out of the gate, I hear someone wailing inside my next door neighbors house. Instinctively, instead of going towards Saurabh,  I turn to the house from where the voice is slowly increasing. To my shock I see our old maid -Laxmi-running out with her 2 year old son in her arms. Behind her is my neighbor frantically collecting his car keys and locking his house door. I rush to Laxmi to ask what happened just when I see the small baby bleeding profusely from his head. The blood dripping to the ground, his shirt soaked in red. Laxmi (she must be barely 22 or 23 years old) is crying while trying to somehow stop the overflowing liquid. I have not seen such a terrible sight so close and I try and hide my helplessness behind words of encouragement that her son will be fine.

In the meantime Saurabh too makes his way closer to us and then it hits me, how alone Laxmi is midst strangers with a severely injured baby clutched in her arms. As the neighbor pulls out his car, she looks at me and says- "Aap chalo mere saath". I do not think twice and we both get into the back seat. In my faint glimpse of Saurabh on the road, I remember him stuffing my phone in my hand. 

The neighbor (matching Vettel's caliber)  rushes us to the nearest hospital's emergency ward and then begins the ordeal with hassled doctors who finally (after half an hour) shout on us saying: "This is not a joke. We are bogged down with Dengue emergencies Madam. First aid has been provided to you. Now please rush the child some where else". Do we have a choice? No!

Now we are on our way to a private nursing home but Laxmi has not stopped crying. I take the baby from her who gives me his first smile of the evening. As the neighbor scouts for a parking space, I rush the baby to the clinic's emergency room and to my utter relief 5 senior doctors immediately spring into action. They take the injured baby from our hands and disappear into the minor OT before assuring us in a calm, relaxed tone  that if the child has not vomited or fainted after the fall, he is perfectly alright and some stitches will do the trick. 

The wait outside the OT, where the father of my kids has joined me now is excruciating. I decide not to break down in front of Saurabh because he needs to be assured that I am strong. But I am not. I am not a strong mother. From the inside, I was shattered. In every word of comfort that I spoke to Laxmi, was sheer pretense as I knew that if I was in her shoes, I would have myself required some medical attention. Within 10 minutes Harsh was sewed up and I can only imagine what Laxmi must have felt, but when I saw him in the Doctor's arms, stretching his hands to his mother, I choked in my throat. 

Harsh accompanies Laxmi to all the houses when she is working. My neighbor has often told her not to bring him along as when she gets busy with her cleaning and washing, Harsh climbs up and down the stairs or touches sharp objects without supervision. Last evening too as she got busy with the utensils, Harsh climbed a chair, lost his balance, fell and hurt his head on the kitchen slab. When I asked her last night why she brings such a small kid with her when she cannot clearly take care of him she said softly: "I have no one to take care of him at home when I am out earning".

These words of her reminded me of my own situation. I too did not have anyone to take care of my kids back home if I worked outside. Hence I decided to quit rat race and stayed home raising them. Difference is that while we could afford cutting our household income by half, Laxmi cannot. She had to and has to pay the price of this decision......this situation of hers :(