Wallowing In Misery

Okay, I confess.

I’m not as strong as I’d assumed I am. Or will ever be.

I’m a sissy and a nincompoop and I miss the BF. Terribly, terribly miss him

Its been two months plus since he’s been away. There’s not a single day when I haven’t mailed/chatted/called him at least three times each. Yet, I think this wait for his return is driving me nuts. I didn’t know I would miss him this much. Or maybe I just miss our arguments and repartee’s. Life’s less than appealing right now. It doesn’t help that the twins are not keeping well and refuse to eat anything! Nothing I make of feed them makes an iota of a difference. They are both getting skinnier by the day, not that it hampers their activity levels. They can still out-run and out-scream the best out there

Anyway, this post isn’t about them.

Its about the BF…and how his absence is driving me insane !!

I haven’t had a single night’s restful sleep since he left. I call him up at 3am, only to be scolded to go back to sleep . Mushy, sappy songs are the order of the day and bring tears to my eyes …especially when I’m alone.

I look like this!!

By the way, am not sure if I’m the only one here…but when I think of sad, sappy songs about  separation, I cant recollect even a single new-age song that belongs to the year 2K and beyond. I’m mostly left humming “Ayegaaa…..Ayegaa……..ayega aane waaala….Ayegaaa…..” or “Afsana likh rahi roon...” or maybe even a peppy, “Imtihaan ho gayi…..intezaar ki“. What makes me recollect the oldest numbers out there, God knows . But the old songs do have their charm….they mirror my sentiments better, I think. Like the song “Afsana“. One stanza starts with, “Tu jo nahin to kuchh bhi, nahin hai bahaar mein….nahin hai bahaar mein“. How apt

Goodness! I digressed again! This post isn’t about the songs!! Its about the BF!

Did I say I miss him??? Well, that’s an understatement.

I miss him as much as I would a limb or a vital organ. I think, I’ve grown so used to him over the years that his separation seems to almost deprive me of something critical….like breath. In all the years we’ve been together, we’ve barely been away for more than 2 months, at the max 2.5. Since I’ve already crossed the 2.5 threshold, the coming days seem almost painful. I know its just a matter of time before we’ll be together but the ‘matter of time’ isn’t really happening all that quick . Its summertime and the days just seem longer than usual. To add to the misery, the US Consulate is still holding back my visa. No update on that front yet! I’m so ticked off right now that if you were any closer to me , you’d hear me growl!

Dear BF, if you are reading this, I’m sorry for adding to your misery. I at least have the kids. You are alone….and it breaks my heart to think of what you must be going through.

Simply counting the days till you get back.

Love,

Your wife.

*Sigh*

I seriously wonder how all those Army wives manage without their spouses. My mom did it….I think she deserves  a gallantry award herself. As for me….I’d rather have my BF back

For those of you interested in songs of heartache, this is what I hum these days . Enjoy the B&W :-

 

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Of Passion And Work

For a few months now, I’ve been contemplating going on a sabbatical. The thought first crept in when I was busy on my previous project and didn’t have the time to breathe. I was cranky, tired and snapped at every given opportunity. Working 12 hours at a stretch for weeks does that to some people. I’m among one of those weak, insipid ones who fall prey to long working hours . It didn’t help that I also have kids and a family to tend to.

Somewhere along the way, it didn’t seem worth the effort. I was putting in all the hours I could. I know I’m good at what I do, yet, I wasn’t happy. Satisfied maybe. Glad to be doing something with my brain. If I were a housewife, I would most likely be found in the corner of my room, cobwebs hanging over my body, hair in dreadlocks, drool over my chin as I chewed my pencil over Sudoku, level Hard. The kids would be forgotten, cooking would be a distant memory and the BF would  almost be on his way to becoming one.

But I digress.

I like what I do. Which doesn’t really translate to “I LOVE what I do”. I don’t love it. Period. I don’t like taking work back home (though, there are times when I cannot avoid it). Each evening, as I lock up for the day, I’m glad about leaving. I hold my head high and rush out as fast as I can. I never look back. Its not about the work, I’ll admit. I’m sufficiently engrossed when I’m at it to forget to call the BF for his morning call. I’ve even missed out on calling the Pediatrician regarding some ailment of the twins only because I was busy debugging a script (bad parenting example here). I’m glued to the PC because I’m interested in what I’m doing.

Working From Home

The current project I’m working on is much better than the previous one. I like the easy familiarity with the tools and the platform I’m working on. I like the good vibes I share with the people at the client side. Though I’m busy, I’m not neck-deep in it. I do have time to breathe these days .

Yet, I think I need the break.

I’ve been contemplating a lot on what I really want to do in the long run. Should I continue in IT or should I venture out to doing stuff that I love?? A really long time back, I’d written a post on how I want to start my own boutique. There was a time when every single dress that I wore bore results of my painful contribution to its look. A little thread-work here, a few sequins there, a little mirror-work on one and sometimes, a little painting on the fabrics. There were other times I thought of taking up writing full time (thats a joke really. And like I said, I was just ‘thinking’ about it ) because some people who read me liked what I had written. It was a powerful boost of self-esteem and confidence. It felt good to be appreciated for doing stuff that I loved to do.

When I decided to take a break, I also decided to hunt for other avenues of income, things which didn’t take up as much time as the current one does. I was in a dilemma, because I’m one of those people, the jack-of-all-master-of-none types. There’s a lot I can do, but not good enough to guarantee a regular income! So I thought that maybe I could start writing short stories or articles (only problem being, I suck at social commentaries and my kids HATE my stories )

So imagine my surprise and consternation when I read this article by my favourte movie reviewer, Baradwaj Rangan ( Since 2007, when I first discovered his blog, I swear I haven’t watched a film unless I read his review first. He is GOOD!!) . A snippet from his blog states this :-

“That’s one thing you’re not really prepared for when you begin to “follow you passion,” that one day it will become a job, and the pieces you used to write at your leisure, for fun, for a break from the daily grind, now come with deadlines. No one tells you that, one day, the passion becomes the daily grind.”

This is exactly what I was afraid of all along, just that he presents it in a much better manner.

I have my work on one side and my hobbies on the other. I like writing. But I also like writing at my leisure, when I feel like it or IF I feel like it. I did a short stint for Parentous. Contributed for a month(thats a total of 4 posts) and then suddenly, it seemed too much. Though I had to contribute just once a week, the pressure of coming up with a meaningful post every week seemed too much. I realized I couldn’t do it. That I was uncomfortable sharing my blog-time on someone else’s blog

When I read BR’s blog, it made sense. My insecurities were not my whims. There was someone else who was facing the same issues. Today, when I get bored of my work, I know that I can turn back to sewing a few sequins or weilding that paint brush. I can sit back and read a good book or turn to my blog to spout my feelings. But what happens if I do all these for a living? I’ll probably enjoy doing all this…..but one day, when I’m tired and bored of it all, what do I do? If my comfort hobbies become my work, then what would be my comfort when I feel like getting away from it all?  Some would suggest that I would need to build up diversity in my hobbies, learn new skills (you are never to old to learn) but after an age, its not everyone’s cup of tea to chart new paths(you cant teach an old dog new tricks!!) .

I’d applied for leave, hoping that I’ll find my calling in something else and follow it. Probably submit my resignation and follow the dicatats of my heart.

But now, I think I’ll just use the leaves for what they were meant to be…..a break. I’m still not ready to change my track. Sure, my work doesn’t bring me big-time happiness. But it brings in the moolah, which kind of compensates for everything else. Plus, if I ever get bored or need a break, there’s so much more I could turn to, to bring me comfort.

For now, I’ll not give in to the temptation to make my passion my work. I’ll let it be what it is……so that when I want to get away from the grind, it is right there, welcoming me as always!

Please do take a few minutes to read BR’s article (link given above). It is brilliant! Puts a lot of things in perspective.

Do let me know if anyone of you has given up their job to follow their heart….I want to hear your side of the story too

Love,

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Letters

Dear Mr.Bell

What would we do without a phone?? No, no, I don’t mean the smartphones that let us do all but communicate with the dead! I mean the simple little thing you made that made talking across miles possible. The simple wires carrying sounds to lands far and away…making it possible for a very sappy me to talk to my one true love across the oceans!

Yours,

Eternally-Grateful.

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Dear Mom,

How did you do it?? How did you survive for months on end without Dad?? How did you cope when there was no provision of a phone call? I know Dad called up once in a while (make that once in 2-3 months as phone used to be a luxury in border areas his unit was manning). I know you wrote letters, piles of them, but there was no guarantee they would reach him. Or that he would reply

I call up the BF at least thrice a day. He calls me up an equal number of times. And then we have a video chat. We drop mails. In fact, its as if he’s still in town but doesn’t have the time to drop by home . I hardly realize that he is far far away and that we live in different timezones. What matters is that we are so constantly in touch. He is updated with each day’s activities of the kids. He knows what they’ve been up to, the things they say and the way they behave. Apart from the slight difference in their size (when he sees them next), I doubt he would find anything new!

I cant imagine how you went through those years. Must have been terribly tough, isn’t it? I realize it just now

Yours,

Forever-In-Awe!

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Dear Lui And Shobby,

You’ve taken your father’s absence much better than I had anticipated. I know you miss him and he misses you two, in fact, terribly so. If there is one reason (make that two) for him to give up his work and fly back home, its you. But rather than saying “Abu come back home” all you ever told him on the phone is, “Finish your work and come back home”. Well, he better follow those orders, right? Its cute you know, the way you ask him if he’s done a ‘good job’ of his work . I’m sure he’s tickled pink each time he hears it!

I think you are handling his absence admirably well. You were a little whiny initially but lately your temperaments have improved. You don’t give me much trouble and though I risk jinxing myself, I must admit that you two actually listen to me! Your temper tantrums are down by a notch and we actually have reasonable discussions *gasp* (will wonders never cease?!) The only thing you have conspired to do is to keep me running around the house after you two. It is an activity which I thoroughly despise and there seems to be no respite in sight. Alas, I’ll pick the pros over the cons for now

Please keep up the good behavior even after your father comes back. I do want to take credit for it all

Yours,

Forever-On-The-Toes

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Dear Unix,

Where have you been?? I know, I know, I deserted you…left you for Windows.  Worked on GUIs and became depressed and morose enough to think of quitting my job. Nothing I did seemed worthwhile. I was disillusioned and listless. Work didn’t interest me anymore and I had serious doubts on what I wanted to do next.

Then you came along. My old friend. You forgave me my defection and welcomed me back with open arms.  All those forgotten commands came flooding back -grep, ls, pwd, rm, ant, awk, sed……. So engrossed am I in my VNC that I no longer find the time to blog ( :O ) . I’m totally lost in your console and your prompt ensconces me like home. I’m once more charged up and can see some meaning in the work I do.

Never again am I working on a Windows-based project again. For me, its just gonna be U(nix).

Yours,

Eternally-Smitten.

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Dear BF,

We’ve been together, we’ve been apart. We were then together and then apart. In the last 14 years, I think we’ve had enough instances of being away from each other. Yet, each time it hurts terribly. I miss your presence and your PJs. Being away from the family has robbed you of your under-appreciated sense of humour. Its been ages since I heard you laugh. Okay, maybe not really. You do guffaw out aloud when on video chat with the kids .

The twins miss you terribly, but they are more concerned about what you plan to get for them. Me, I miss the fights and the arguments over the use of cupboards, tables and bed. Having all this space to myself is getting a tad unnerving. I’d rather have two shelves in the cupboard after a good, well-deserved win, than having it all to myself on a platter.

*Sigh*

Do come back soon. After you wrap up your work, of course. Wouldn’t want to harm the hand that puts the bread-n-butter on the table, right?!

Yours.

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Dear US Consulate,

I have no idea what Section 221(g) means. I have no idea why it is termed so. All I know is that I’d like to spend a few months with my husband while he is in your land. I swear that my kids have no ulterior motive other than to fleece their father of his last hard-earned  penny, all in order to help your economy. Why then would you, dear people, label my visa as “Administration pending”. What exactly does it mean? No one seems to give a proper reply. The Visa Officer was highly apologetic when he said my visa was in pending state but he gave no reason for it. Its been more than a month , I haven’t heard a thing from anyone. The pending case_status document hasn’t been updated at all for the day when I had my interview. Pray, give me one hint as to whats going on? Even if my visa is rejected just LET ME KNOW!! I need to plan my leaves accordingly.

Eternally Hopeful.

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Of Secret Bonds And Spaces

I recently read a book called “Break In” by Dick Francis. Its a story of a steeplechase jockey and his twin sister set in  the backdrop of Francis’ forte – horse racing.

Right from the beginning of the story, it is made clear that the two leads have a bond that is strongly telepathic, they can both read each others mind and even as kids, could figure out where the other was , when the elders got tired of searching for one.

As I went deeper into the narration, I felt as though this book was written for Lui and Shobbs !! The invisible bonds that tie Kit and Holly together, is creepily similar to the bond between Lui and Shobby. It is fascinating, to see them both together. They fight, they yell, they squabble, they land punches and usually beg us to get rid of the other. But the second we, the adults, try and reprimand any one of them, the other gives out a banshee call and literally goes for our throats

Lui will complain about Shobby, I turn to scold Shobby and Lui will whack me with her plastic bat, indignant that I dared to raise my voice on her brother! Shobby, not the whacking type, tends to hurl himself on us to put maximum distance between us and his sister. A kabaddi-champion in the making, is my wild guess!

I can list a hundred different instances when they both abhor the intervention of any third person between them. At school, they may completely ignore each other, reveling in the company of other friends. But the day Lui skips school or Shobby is at home, the others gets restless, refusing to talk or play with the other kids . Their teachers have time and again pointed out this behavior in every parent-teacher’s meet.

Recently, since the BF is away, the twins sleep with me. One night, since Shobby and Lui were involved in a major fight where Shobby was the main culprit, I punished him by making him sleep on his bunk bed. What I didn’t bargain for, was the effect on Lui. She was awake most of the night. She kept waking me up to convince me to bring Shobby to our bed. She was worried that he would be scared all alone. Apparently, she was deaf to his snores . Each time she woke me up, I would ask her to go back to sleep and not disturb me. Eventually, she woke me up to inform that she was joining her brother on the bunk-bed.

By the time the two woke up the next morning, they were back to screeching and clawing at each other.

Frankly, I’ve given up on the two. They might bring the house down with their yelling, but I desist from playing the referee. Let them fight, they’ll obviously make-up after a while. Then they will shoot accusing looks my way and hold me responsible for all the misunderstanding between the two

Its funny and sad at the same time…..I mean I know the kids love me and all but somewhere, I believe they have their own little space where I’m not invited. As they grow older, I can feel the space expanding. Earlier, they used to come and talk to me directly about anything. Nowadays, they discuss among themselves before approaching me . They crack their own jokes, get under the blanket and laugh their guts out, play peek-a-boo with each other…and I, stand outside like a silent observer, simply watching them and thanking Allah that they don’t need me to keep them busy. That they have each other.

But it hurts too . A teeny tiny ache in the vicinity of the heart……

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Missing Him Already!!

With the BF out of the country on work, I’m busy fretting what to do next. I mean, since every second of my spare time was spent in needling him towards the abyss of irritation, I have no idea how I will use up my time now

I’m still writing him enough mails but this time, I think he’s actually enjoying them (he hasn’t yet begged me to stop the deluge). Fret. Fret. Fret

Its terrible, you know, to get so used to a person around you that you have no clue how to go on when the said person isn’t around. I think I went around in circles back there but again, I’m too lazy to correct it.

*Sigh*

My mind refuses to be still. I’ve been day-dreaming about him since morning and its doing me no good. There’s a status report that needs to go out to the clients today and you know what?! I couldn’t care less

Somebody help me !

BF, if you are reading this, then let me tell you how I feel right now -

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A Letter To A (Once) Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

I made a resolution this year that when I felt something was wrong, I would make sure that I voice that opinion. I’m speaking out now.

After more than a decade of friendship, of ups and downs, of cramming for exams and scrounging for projects, of late-night Maggis and late-night movie shows, of early morning coffee and CDs played on my computer, we’ve done it all. You were always the quiet and shy one and I would be the brash one, speaking out for when you when you clammed up!  You would goad me into asking the teachers for an off if you didn’t feel like attending class. I would do it.I used to bargain for you when you went shopping (remember the time you liked a particular pair of shoe but didn’t want to pay more than 100/- for it? I haggled with the shopkeeper for it the next day, insisting that I wanted that very pair, even though it was a size small for me. He must have thought me a nut-case, buying shoes that don’t fit!). I could have left you to fight your own battles but I didn’t.

And this is why, I blame myself as much as I blame you for what I feel about the status of our friendship now.

For the last few years, I’ve realized that the equation of our friendship has changed. I’m not sure if you realize when exactly this change came about but I can pinpoint the exact time frame – August 2005. I’m sure this date must have triggered some dormant memories. Dormant for you but not for me. Because I remember the days that followed after that very well. Days, that didn’t turn out too good or favorable for me.

Before I go into the specifics, I’ll let you on a secret. You are a joy to be with – when you are not in the circle of your family. Maybe that’s why the first year of college with you was so much fun. You were gay, unabashed, spoke your mind and were a riot. In the second year, your family settled in town and you moved in with them. Though you were still fun to be with, you weren’t as gay and unabashed as before. Cautious, is what you were. You were careful about what you said and did. I did irk me a bit, but then, I wasn’t so into dissecting personalities.

Honestly speaking, over the last few years, I’ve thought a hundred times about breaking ties with you. I realized that my friendship meant nothing to you. You never really were around during my bad times and when I was around for you, I was reprimanded by your family while you stood by meekly. You neither defended me nor apologized later for the insults I had to bear. At one point, I realized what a grave mistake I had made by taking your side when you came to me for help. Remember this line. You came to me. Till then, I had NO IDEA what was brewing. I had NO IDEA what trouble you were in. I was about to leave town to return God-Knows-When and there you were, sobbing buckets. I did the best I could, FOR YOU. I stood up for you when there was no one besides you. I faced your family FOR YOU.

And that, in Aug 2005 was my biggest mistake.

For years after that, your family has been more than rude to me. Maybe you didn’t realize it. Or just maybe, you realized and chose to keep quiet. Like always. Even before Aug 2005, when results came out in college and I was interrogated on my marks in each subject. Like the time I got my first job and I was asked to give a salary break-up description. Like the time, after a late evening show, I waited with you at a lonely bus-stop till your parents came to pick you up, since no autos were going your way (I could still hail down autos going my way). At 11:30 in the night, when your parents finally came, you hopped into your car and drove away, leaving me alone on a deserted stretch of road. Neither you nor your parents realized the slight. For a whole 10 minutes after that, I stood there in shock, my mouth agape. I waited, because I thought you guys might come back to pick me. My house was after all, almost half-way through to your’s. You didn’t come back (didn’t it bother you one bit that I waited there at the bus-stop for your sake?! Didn’t you owe me anything??). Somehow, when I reverse the position and think of you in my place, I KNOW that my dad would have driven you home even if your house was in the other end of the city. Sure he would have given us an earful, but that would have been out of concern for our safety. For days and years after that, you acted as if that incident didn’t happen. You never acknowledged, nor apologized.

Around 12 am, I finally gathered the guts to call the BF, who woke up from his slumber  and drove halfway across the city to drop me home. He gave me a tongue lashing throughout the ride. I didn’t deserve that flak. What surprises me is that when you have to be dropped at the airport at an ungodly hour, your parents called up the BF and asked him to do the needful. Not requested, mind you, just told him to do so. Somehow, their daughter is precious, but someone else’s isn’t?!  If we weren’t old buddies, the BF wouldn’t have. But frankly, he isn’t as heartless.

It hurts me terribly as I type this. I’ve been meaning to vent it out to you personally over the years. But then again, I realized that being vocal isn’t your strength. Instead of a discussion, I would be talking to a statue. You would sit patiently, waiting for me to get over and offer nothing in return. Not even the benefit of a good yell. Even as you read this, I don’t expect a reaction. I’m a little miffed that I’m taking the cowardly path and writing this down instead of confronting you. I can’t help it. I just have the consolation that maybe, someday, you will read this post.

I really cannot carry this load anymore. Each time I decided to severe ties with you, the BF calmed me down and pointed out that this lifetime was too short to hold grudges. He’s right. So even though I was insulted a hundred times, even though I vowed never to step into your doorway again, I did. Each time I did it for you. You are aware of the first time the insults started.  This was when your mom called me and another friend to reprimand us for being a wrong influence on you.

Wrong influence?! You were 25+ at that time. Not a teenager!

What was our crime?? We had boyfriends. I went ahead to marry mine. The other one is yet to marry hers. But do you remember the actual accusation?? I do. It was implied, directly that I pushed you into doing what you did. That I was the one who initiated the actual problem. I vehemently denied the accusation and looked to you for help. You sat there meekly, letting your mom do all the talking. We understood that with deference to your mother you would not be able to say anything. But what about later?? Wasn’t an apology due from your side? At least a confession that you agree we were misjudged and wrongly accused! You gave away nothing. It was almost as if along with your mother , even you were convinced that we were at fault! For months after that, I and the other friend wondered where we went wrong. How could your actions be cleanly dumped on our shoulders?? We weren’t even aware what you were up to!! What hurt more, was the way you used us.

We were invited to your wedding and though the BF would be missing out on an extremely crucial office meet, against our better judgment, we agreed to go. The other two friends’ family kept a condition that they would allow their daughters to travel the distance only if me and BF also came along. For their sake, we agreed to come. Since we couldn’t leave the kids behind, I dragged them along too. That was another terrible mistake. In the peak of summer, you were magnanimous in giving us a dorm that was without air-conditioning. Your reason of keeping the four of us together lacked substance. How exactly do you suppose the other two girls would have managed to change clothes or sleep with the BF in the same room? With the blistering heat outside, the friends were kind enough to adjust for the BF’s sake so that he didn’t have to step out in the heat each time. Not only that, the dorm was converted into a dining area, with breakfast, lunch and dinner buffet throughout the day. The workers would come early in the morning for setting up the tables and would walk in till late at night after the last of the dinner was cleared up.  Your guests would linger on, chatting. We didn’t get a moment’s peace or privacy throughout the day. The children didn’t get a decent hour’s sleep(at the age of 1.5 years they deserved it though). The heat made my daughter ill. When we requested for a room change, we were told that none were available. This was before the last batch of your friends turned up on the day of the wedding.  They got AC rooms, by the way. The BF suggested that we move out to a better hotel outside, but on discussion with the others, we collectively thought that it’d be rude to your family. Surprisingly, no one from your family was considerate about us. Frankly, only because all four of us protested vehemently that the dorm wasn’t converted into a bar for the daru-party planned for later on the wedding night.

I doubt you can feign ignorance about all this, or maybe you can. I really don’t know anymore.

All I know is that your family has treated me beneath your status, class, whatever!! You, in turn,  have treated me more like an errand boy than a friend. In fact, I wouldn’t mind running the errands, its just that your acknowledgement of my efforts doesn’t exist. Each time you need something you give me a call. Each time I decide I wouldn’t do it anymore and then I give in. I end up at your doorstep to help you out.

When you came to town this time, you called me up to get a lady to help with the massage. On my kid’s birthday, leaving the preparations behind, I came with the said lady to your house. What did I get for my efforts?? Just a lot of flak on how massages are useless and not really needed. I think you should have had this conversation and come to a decision with your mother before calling me. I didn’t need to make an attempt to convince her on why exactly it would be good for you. With the first word of dissent from her side, I could have walked out. I didn’t. For YOU. Because I knew it would do you good. Because I knew you needed it. You kept quiet while I argued your case with your own mother!!! Your silence is what irks me the most!!

When I suggested places where you could buy diapers for cheap, I was told rather rudely by your mom that they could be bought for the same rate at other places. Made me whack myself for even bringing up the suggestions for you. I’ll never learn, I guess. I did keep my distance from you after that. Each visit to your house leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Now tell me, how do you expect me to react when you send me a message and ask me to deliver 150 diapers of varying sizes, from the very place I had suggested before, at your doorstep before you leave town? How exactly do you suppose I’m expected to carry out the feat?? Take an off from work to travel to the heart of the city? Strap the huge packs on my scooty and travel right across the city? What would I get in return for all my efforts?? Why should I do it??

Let me remind you again. I’m NOT your errand-boy. I’m a married woman who works full time and has two kids to boot. Your assumption that I’ll always be available at your beck and call is highly misplaced. However terrible your circumstances, they aren’t so bad that you can’t call up JustDial, take the number of BigBazaar and have the diapers delivered to your home. By the way, you do have other friends in this city, don’t you (the ones we lovingly call your ‘AC friends’)? Why don’t you ask them for these favors? But you won’t, I’ll tell you why? Because you care for what they might think. You are apprehensive of approaching others, whereas with me, you simply call up and order. Words like ‘Please’, ‘Thank You’ or ‘Sorry’ were never a part of your vocabulary. After all these years, I don’t expect them either.

The only person who’s hurting right now is me. I never expected it to reach a situation like this. But I’m sorry to say, it was long due. I’m tired of taking insults from your family and grinning through it. I’m tired of being treated like a sidekick. I’m upset that along with making me run errands, you have no qualms in expecting my husband to do the same.I’m upset that in all these years, you kept quiet when you shouldn’t have. You may argue that this is the way you are. But darling, I’m tired of standing up for you when you cant stand up for yourself. Its a pity you allow your parents to run your life even now. I know for sure that your mother disapproves of me. I don’t want to continue this farce of being friends when your expectations from me are solely based on what I can do for you. Try to remember, when was the last time you did something for me, however trivial?!

I’m not sure when you will read this or whether you ever will. I don’t care. Whenever you do, please remember, it is harder on me as I write this than it will be on you as you read. The first draft of this post was much scathing. But like the BF says, this lifetime is too short to carry grudges. I don’t want to carry that weight. If you are upset over this post, I’m sorry, it couldn’t be helped. If you want to burn the bridges, then call me. If you value even a percent of our friendship, call me and let me know if you realize the injustice meted out to me. The ball is in your court now. If you don’t call, its okay. It would be something that I would expect from you.

But for once, break the mould. Surprise me. Speak up!

I wish you and your family all the happiness in this world. May you enjoy your new city and your new life.

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The First Day Of The New Year

Is it true that what you do on the first day of the new year is the indication for how the rest of the year will be?

If yes, then no doubt I would want my year to go by just like it did yesterday

It was a working day, sadly. All my friends had an off and I didn’t. Not that it really mattered. I’m not the types to party late to bring in the New Year. I did bake a cake though. A Chocolate-walnut delight which was better by my own standards. Its a different matter that the cake still wasn’t ready by zero hour (the idea to bake the cake struck me around 10:30 pm in the night, after which I scavenged around for the ingredients and somehow rustled it up). The in-laws gave up waiting for the cake. They are early risers and its a tough task to keep them awake beyond 11pm. They bravely fought off the sleep but eventually, it took over and they trudged back to their room. The BIL, me, BF and kids passed the time by watching some inane awards ceremony which looked like the king of ‘so-blatantly-rigged-you-can-figure-out-the-winner-by-just-looking-at-the-nomination-list. It was fun though…we were bang-on! each time

Anyhow, it struck 12, we wished each other , smothered the kids with kisses, had a last look at the still-rising cake, checked the timer and sighing heavily, clambered into bed. We had a long working day ahead.

First of January began like any other day. Into the kitchen. Rush rush rush. Wake up the kids, rush rush rush. Get ready, rush rush rush. In between, old friends BFS and BFG messaged to check if we could meet for lunch. We hummed and hawed, called up each other, calculated the time required for lunch and our other appointments (me and the BF had work, BFG had to attend a wedding) and finally decided on a venue close to my office. I left immediately for work, aware that I needed to show my face around before I would disappear for nearly 2nhalf hours around noon. The BF would drop the kids at their day-care before joining us.

The lunch was wonderful. The company, even more so. I’m SO glad that after all these years, the BFFs and us (me and the BF) are still together  that we can still have a good time and catch up from wherever we had left off in the last meet . We missed BFC, though she’s in town, she now has a bonny little boy to take care of. The  said bonny-little-boy does not like his Momma leaving him for even a second and him being a barely 3-month-old, we couldn’t risk having BFC getting him across the city to where we were meeting. Anyhow, lunch was serious fun. We ribbed each other, pulled the BF’s leg (he was a minority ), ate heartily and if it wasn’t for our respective schedules, would have continued to sit there and gossip.

Something happened as I stepped out of the restaurant. I don’t know what it was, but it struck me so strongly that I was breathless for a second. It was the realization that I didn’t want to go back to work !! The feeling was so fierce, that instead of thinking about it further, I made a decision right there. “I’m not going back to office”, I announced.

“What??”, said the BF.

“Wow!! Thats great”, said BFS.

“Want to plan something?” asked BFG.

I looked at the BF, waiting.

“Err…..I need to be in office for at least an hour…some work….”.

“I’ll wait”.

“Alright then, hop in!”.

And so, it was decided on the spur of the moment that I would bunk, the BF would quickly wrap up his work and bunk too. We had no plan in mind, but were excited to just spend time together . I called up my manager with a fib, but it really wasn’t required as there was no particular work I was assigned for the day and even before I could state my excuse, he said ‘okay’. Oh well!!

(I’m seriously hoping that the said manager doesn’t read this )

We dropped BFS and her mother to the wedding venue (BFS declared she was incapable of  eating even a morsel more ) and drove to the BF’s office, which was miles and miles away. It was a nice long drive, some good songs for company and a nice stuffed feeling in my tummy. Frankly, I did dream of doing an about-turn, going home and getting into a deep slumber. But then, opportunities like these, of me going absconding with the BF, rarely come by and it would be a shame to let it pass by, wouldn’t it?

Once at the BF’s office, I settled into the plush couch in the reception and pulled out the latest book I’m currently reading (The Immortals of Meluha. Yeah, I know….caught this train pretty late, didn’t I ? ). After an hour we took a coffee break in the cafeteria. The BF still had some work. I didn’t mind waiting, since I had a captivating book to keep me company. In between, I even entered his cabin to check if he really was working . I am suspicious of people who sit in cabins. For all we know, they are the picture of  utmost concentration as they struggle to place the next card in the Freecell/Solitaire deck .

Alas, the BF was working. He wrapped up quickly though.

It was long, lovely drive we took back. From one end of the city, we drove right till the other end. The BF had to collect a few clothes from the Raymond showroom on MG road. Parcels in hand, we shopped around a bit for the kids, new shoes for Lui and a sweatshirt for Shobbs. Finally, with our arms laden with purchases, we headed back home.

After a nice homely dinner with the family, I started readying the kid’s school bags and uniforms (assuming that their school commences today after the winter break. Alas, it starts tomorrow). After a session of storytelling , the kids finally dropped off to sleep.

And as I lay my head on the pillow, I realized how terribly happy I felt . I had spent the day with my best friends and my loved ones. I seriously wish I have many more such days to spend time with people who matter!

I didn’t do an iota of work and didn’t have the slightest tinge of guilt about it (now, that’s worrying!). My forecast for the year says that I should look forward to drastic changes on the work-front. I wonder what it means. Either I’ll be quitting my job for some other line of work, or maybe, just maybe, I’ll be chucked out of this place and remain jobless.

The best part is that, unlike earlier, the possibility of being jobless doesn’t rankle me any more . If thats my fate, so be it. Oh man! I sound so……so  mature!

Looks like 2013 is the year when I finally grow up

So, how was your new year?? Anything  interesting  happened?? Do let me know

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The Last Post………

…………..of 2012!

The last few months have not been good to me. Much of it was of my doing. Call it procrastination, mismanagement or just plain ‘I-want-to-run-away-from-it-all’ phase!

To say that I could have handled it better, would be an understatement. I could have done a WHOLE lot better. But the truth is, I didn’t. And somehow, I let people walk all over me.  I let my work affect my personal life. Obviously, it wasn’t taken to very kindly at home. I became even more irritable. The children sensed it and became all the more cranky. It was terrible.

My method of facing it all was unconventional.  I moped a bit. Fell ill. Had an accident (purely unintended ) . And I came through it all. The only reason I stopped posting was because I was disillusioned. Nothing seemed good enough to write about anymore. Yes, even about the kids. They were the shining, bright lights in my life, yet I couln’t bring myself to write about them.

And then, 16th December happened.

It was painful, just imagining what the girl must have gone through. And somehow, that put a LOT of things in the right perspective. Here I was, struggling to get through the silliest (in retrospection) troubles in life , whereas there was someone out there struggling with a much bigger battle. Alone. It seems so futile now, all those worries and bitterness that I harboured for the last few months. It hasn’t helped me in the least. Rather, I lost some really precious updates on my children. I could have posted, but I didn’t. My self-imposed exile has hurt no one more than me.

2013 is at the door step. Though not all together easy, my one and sole resolution for the new year would be to keep family as my primary goal and work secondary. When I look back now, I realize that all the extra hours and efforts I had put in at work, were useless. I lost the precious time when my kids were learning new things. I wasted the precious time when my entire family was in town after 2 long years. I wasted the time by not being around for a dear cousin’s wedding. I wasted the time when the In-Laws came back from Hajj, all exhausted and gaunt and I wasn’t around to help them with the hordes of guests. Yes, I wasted a lot of time. The work that I did in office, just wasn’t worthy of the sacrifices I made.

Not anymore. Its going to be straight nine-hours of work for me and not an hour extra

And I promise to blog more often

 On that note, have a GREAT YEAR people! Let 2013 have fewer calamities and more joy, fewer deaths and more birthdays, fewer vehicles (I wish ) and more trees. Let us all cherish what we have today, be content and be happy

Ameen.

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A Letter For Me

Somewhere in early 2000, I wrote my last letter to Mom. Parents were in Kolkata at that time, me, Bro and Bags were in Pune. For the first time in my sheltered life, we were living away from parents, from the comforts of a bustling household, from the aroma of fresh, tasty food, from the ignorance of managing a house and the many, many little things one needs to do to keep the home running.
Living alone brought along its hardships, right from washing utensils to clothes, sweeping, mopping, cooking, the works. Bro used to work long hours, Bags was in a management course and had ungodly hours at college. I was the free one, giving up a post-graduate seat because I didn’t want to pay for it and preparing for the admissions for the next year.
Since I was home throughout the day, looking after the house became my responsibility. It wasn’t easy, far from it. I had trouble deciding what to cook for the three different meals. I had to keep an inventory of the groceries needed so that Bro could buy them in one go. Luckily, he loved shopping for vegetables too, so that saved me some trouble
My routine comprised of cleaning up the house, washing clothes (in the washing machine ), washing utensils (by hand), cooking, folding dry clothes, sorting vegetables, folding laundry , etc. In the evenings, we usually sat down to do our studies, me and Bags. We didn’t have a television, so we either used to watch a movie on the desktop (which had a 2 MB hard disk *gasp* ) or simply listen to the radio (Aakashwani, since Radio Mirchi wasn’t born yet).
We used to call up parents regularly (thankfully, we had a land-line) and it was comforting to share our domestic tales with Mom.
One day, after a fight with Bro over making tea, I got fed-up of managing the house and instead of calling Mom, sat down to write a letter. A couple of drafts later, I realized how utterly juvenile my rants were. There was no need to worry Mom over such a trivial matter. So I just wrote a nice little letter, letting her know that all was well on our side and that we missed her.
I dont remember the date on which I wrote it, but it was definitely my last. I never wrote a letter after that
Till this date, I wonder why! Mom LOVES letters. She loves reading them more than writing them. By the way, the second thing she excels at (the first being cooking) is writing. She writes in Urdu and believe me, if you could read her, you would relaize what a fine writer she would make (if only she agreed to publish her diaries )
Many a times, Mom would gently remind us to write letters. We would say, yeah sure and then completely forget about it. As long as we could call her up and update her on our status, all seemed to go perfectly fine with us.
I went on to get a job and Dad gifted me my first mobile (Nokia 3315. Remember anyone??). Distances grew shorter. I could call parents anytime I wanted . I would send Dad a hundred messages, mostly irrelevant and he would message me back to shut up . Life was fun. But not for Mom. Even till recently, when she was in Pune, she said, “I’m not tech-savvy like your Dad. I can’t read mails…so why don’t you just write me a letter?”.
As usual, I assured her that I will. And I didn’t .
So imagine my surprise when I see this envelope waiting for me when I reached home yesterday! The address was in Dad’s handwriting, but the minute I opened it, I knew it was from her. She is the only one I know who has the capability to really fill a letter, if you know what I mean . There were two foolscap pages covered back-to back in her neat, tiny handwriting. I don’t have words to describe how it felt to receive a letter. Bikram does a much better job here
Needless to say, the letter was brimming with love and oozing concern and best wishes. I couldn’t get enough of it. I read it with a grin on my face, imagining Mom’s brows furrowed with worry as she wrote about how she worries and prays for me .
I LOVED it. I LOVED it LOVED it LOVED it
And now comes the difficult part. I haven’t written a letter in ages. 12 and a half years, to be precise. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to fill a page . But you know what?? I sure am going to try. And there’s only one reason why. Because no matter how many times you call or send an email….nothing and I mean nothing can match up to the thrill of holding those papers close to you as you read them out, or as you clutch them to your chest and feel the love pouring right into you.
Letter writing!
Can’t be so tough, can it?
I’m surely gonna try it out today.
Will let you know tomorrow

And oh, in case you want to try it out, write a little note to your loved one today. And see the difference

Cheers





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Having Them Young

These days, I return home around 8pm (which is rather early) compared to the 9pm entry I was making until last year. I leave a little late in the mornings, making sure that the kids get into their school van and then leaving for work. I eventually reach office around 10am or later. which means, that after 9 hours, I leave around 7pm or later. So 8pm it is, when the kids expect me back home.
The minute I enter, the kids rush up to me. No no, they don’t rush up for a hug or kiss. More likely, they’ve been fighting over something and I have to make a judgement RIGHT NOW! I hold them up for a while and politely ask them to give me a few minutes to at least freshen up. “Okay, aap paanch minute mein fresh ho jao”, Shobby magnanimously permits. So I quickly wash up and head to the kitchen, where the MIL (Bless her) keeps tea ready for me, everyday .
“No no Mummy. No tea”, both the kids yell at me. “Why not?!” I’m appalled. My cup of tea is my savior…to get me through the rest of the evening.
“okay, tea piyo, but no reading paper”, he pouts.
“Alright”, I resign to my fate. At least I’m allowed to have my cuppa.
The kids continue their bickering and fighting for every piece of toy that lays strewn across the house. I don’t pay heed. The picking up can be done later. Once tea is over, I have to practically threaten the kids with dire consequences if they don’t have their dinner ASAP. Shobby obliges, Lui doesn’t . Much running after, the kids are fed. We quickly get our school bags out and check for the day’s homework.
The one thing that I’ll eternally be grateful to Allah for, is that my kids love doing their homework. They love their number writing or coloring or sticking pictures. The only trouble I have is to restrict them to the page they have to fill. Left on their own, they would cover all the pages with their scribbles and proudly display them for our compliments.
Homework over, we have some time for playing, mock-wrestling or pillow-fights . Around 10pm, I start prepping them for sleep time. Last visit to the toilet is followed by cups of milk, narrating stories and then goodnight prayers. The lights are turned off and I stop replying to their umpteen queries. The idea is, they should take the hint that their mom is asleep and they should drop off too. Usually, I’m the one who actually starts snoring and the kids start playing in the dark. Their father comes in around 10:30 pm and the kids are up and perky in seconds. What follows is some serious father-children bonding time where I don’t come into the picture at all (since I’m busy snoring).
The kids are hyperactive (MashaAllah) and minding them for a few minutes is a trying activity. Sometimes, they are in good behavior mode and don’t run around much. But there are other times, when I’m left gasping in their wake, unsure whether to catch Lui before she upturns the box of cornflakes on the floor or run after Shobby, who is perched precariously at the edge of the window sill. Obviously, both are at separate ends of the room .
And this is the reason why, when I get up each morning, I look at their sleeping forms and wonder, for the umpteenth time, what if I had them earlier??
I never thought I would feel this way, but as the days pass by and I feel more and more exhausted by the time I come back home, I wonder if it was wise to have kids so late in life? Frankly speaking, we had the kids as soon as possible after our marriage, but the point is, we married late. I’m least ambitious where career is concerned, so that was never a problem. Its just that favorable circumstances for marriage came our way pretty late. I know it isn’t late late, but its late enough for me to regret it. I’m not as active and healthy as I used to be. I want to run around with the kids in the park without resembling an asthma patient with a severe attack. I hate to give up midway in some of our games at home because I’m too tired for the action. I’m annoyed with myself because a pillow fight with hardly 2-3 hits from me makes me feel as though my arms cant take the pillow weight any more
These are the twin’s beginning years….there are many more to go. I had planned on teaching them badminton and playing matches with them. It seems like a distant dream now. I wanted to be a part of every new sport or game that they learn, but lately, thoughts of pulling out seems very appealing.I never wanted to be a mother who sits on the side lines and watches her kids play. I always wanted to be the mom who was right there on the field with the kids, dunking a ball through the basket even as they tower over her .
The twins and I have a neat 30 year gap between us. It didn’t seem to matter much when I had them. But when I look back now, I wonder why I delayed so much . I have friends who got married early and had kids early. They are the same age as me, but don’t have to run after their children anymore. That phase was over for my friends when they were still in their early 20′s. Most of them have kids who are teenagers now! I think I can handle teenagers in my present age. To think of handling my kids 10 years down the line petrifies me

The only thing that keeps me from toppling over the cliff of morosity is that, if I had kids before, they wouldn’t have been Lui and Shobbs. Though mine, they would have been any other children (I cant even imagine faces for them), but not my twins. And to think of a life without Lui and Shobbs is…is …impossible! I’m addicted to my kids and though my knees creak after a couple of minutes of playing horse-horse, I’d rather have this than prance around lithely with unknown children
What can I say now? As usual, motherhood never comes easy….early or late





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