Archive for March, 2011


Not to mention, googlied and bowled over too!

And just in case¬†you were wondering, I’m not talking about cricket (I despise that game with a penchant I generally reserve for reptiles and their ilk).

I talk about the twins, obviously. Like I said before, since they started talking, I’m suffering migraines and nightmares. I don’t know what they will ask next. I don’t know what they will say next. I just can’t predict the next second.As a result , I’m having a damn busy time pulling myself out of the embarrassment rut every time the kids say something inappropriate. That too, in public!!

Some samples (for the record, I haven’t bothered to translate their lines, I guess the charm is lost when you do that. If you understand Hindi, then please proceed, if not, I apologise for the inconvenience ūüė¶ ) –

1) Everyone’s sitting in the drawing-room after dinner, chatting up about this and that. The kids are playing with each other, running from person to person and laughing loud. The BF enters at this point (he comes in after 10:30 PM. Sigh) and the twins rush to him.

The BF picks up Lui and smothers her with kisses. Lui squeals out loud and yells at her father to let her go. The BF bargains for a kiss in order to let her down.

“Mumma…”, yells my daughter across the room, “Abu ko pappi¬†chaiye, Aap do”.

So everyone turns to look at me.

Me : ¬†ūüėź *Grrmmphh*

2) This one from Shobs is the pits. They have just learnt that running around the house in their birthday suits , specially in front of guests, is just not done. They yell Shame-Shame at each other when found lacking of appropriate clothing, mostly, underwear.

Good training, I pat myself on the back and smirk.

But not for long.

There were guests at home last weekend, who dropped in just while we were readying for an afternoon siesta (bye-bye nap ūüė¶ ) . Since it was very hot, the kids were left to run around in their vests and bloomers. But when the guests came, I tried to drag some decent clothing over their heads. The twins didn’t oblige and made matters worse for me. I yelled at them and said, “Aunty will say shame-shame to you. Please wear your clothes”.

My son, my darling heart-throb took this moment to walk around me, pull at my night-dress for a peek and ask, “Mumma, shame-shame hai??”

“Of course NOT”, I yelled, hastily grabbing at¬†my dress.

So Shobs¬†turns to the guest and says , “Mumma¬†Shame shame nahin¬†hai. Mumma¬†ne chaddi¬†pehni”. Then turning to me, “Mumma, Pink chaddi¬†hai??”

The mumma furiously looks around for a hole to dive into!!

Sometimes, the kids just say stuff that we least expect them to. I know they’ve been picking up new words very fast and it surprises us to no end to hear them using them appropriately at the right time. Some instances :-

1) Am readying the Lui to be taken out by the MIL. Shobs was a little cranky and no mood to get dressed, so we left him to play by himself.

While starpping¬†up Lui’s¬†shoes, the girl says, “Mumma, jaldi¬†karo. Mujhe¬†office ko late ho raha¬†hai”.

Me : Huh?!! ūüėź

2) Lui goes out with the MIL and returns late at night. In the meanwhile, I kept Shobs busy and we had a great evening together. Or so I thought! Once Lui returned, the twins got back to their regular bickering over the smallest thing ( like who will feed the GMIL her medicines!). At one time, when peace was restored and the twins were busy in different corners of the room, me and the MIL started chatting up on  the evening.

Suddenly, Shobs¬†walks up to Lui, whacks her hard on the head and thunders (yep, my lil¬†boy can be¬†quite¬†a Zeus when the mood strikes) “LUI!! MUJHE¬†CHHOL¬†KE GAYI?? HAAN??”

Lui¬†looks up stunned, too shocked to reply. We divert Shobby’s¬†mind and I herd the kids to the bedroom for sleeping.

The next morning, as soon as Shobs¬†was up, he looked around for Lui¬†(who was in the drawing room), walked up to her and whacks¬†her again. “Mujhe¬†chhol¬†ke gayi, haan??” , he yells once more.

Poor Lui had no reply, because she had left him behind.

Moral of the story: make sure to take the two along everywhere. EVERYWHERE!!!

3) Yesterday was holi¬†and the twins had their fair share of water play. Our neighbours bought them pichkaris¬†shaped like little sheep. Very , very cute. But I digress. More than the twins, the BIL¬†was tickled¬†at the sight of the tiny sheep. So he went on a rampage to squirt at everyone in the house.No one was spared, including the poor GMIL¬†who was stuck to her bed ūüôā

At one time, the MIL begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. So she took matters in her own hand, literally. She barged in at him with a small bucket of water and doused him head to foot. Little Shobs, who was running around in between squealed in pleasure and yelled, “Dadi¬†ne chachu¬†ko dhoye”!!

Yep , she sure did ūüôā

These days, I’m experiencing joy and mortification in equal measure. Either the kids say something which has us all in splits, or they say stuff which makes me feel like the most awful mum on earth!! Just last evening, I took them to visit an aunt whose daughter had delivered recently. Once there, Lui¬†grabbed hold of an empty bucket (which was neatly tucked under the bed to dump any soiled nappies) and demanded that the aunt hand over the mop.

“Mai pochha¬†marta. Mera pochha¬†kahan¬†hai??” she demanded. I sat there speechless, while the hosts directed their collective gaze my way. Lui¬†then proceeded to grab a hanky lying on the side table and started mopping the floor!!

*hanging my head in shame*

Where did I go wrong?!!!

But it isn’t all that bad ūüôā . The twins stick to me like vines and when asked who they belong to, have decided that their mum is a better option than their father ūüėÄ . This , I guess is my reward for all the humiliation I suffer.

And also, I’m happy.

Loads ūüôā

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I’m neck-deep in work.

Suffice to say, blogging is taking a backseat these days. It’s not¬†that I don’t want to, it’s just¬†that the I keep the draft open throughout the day, updating¬†my inputs as and when I get the time to punch in a few words, but mostly, I leave it like that till the next day (which is no better than the previous one!). There is so much to write about the twins, but I don’t have the time ūüė¶ . By the time I reach home, am too bushed to pull out the laptop and finish what I started (people yelling procrastinator, desist!)

Anyhow, I’m kind of cranky today. The last few days have been awfully hectic¬†and I’m just counting my lucky stars to get me through the week without any major incident.Ameen. I guess the bad mood stems from a bad experience yesterday morning. No, not bad, slightly unpleasant, or maybe unexpected, but I’m feeling low because of it. Sometimes, I feel that my benchmark for classifying people as ‘good’ is SO low that I bow and scrape in front of anyone who¬†shows a modicum of decency¬†which others might see as minimum expectation. There are times when very close people have disappointed me big time, but I guess I never let them know about it. Sometimes, the relationships seemed more important than my petty feelings. But then, when you become a doormat and others don’t even look at you while walking all over you, I guess its time to let them know!¬†

But how?!

I’m petrified of speaking the truth if it hurts someone’s feelings. It’s a¬†bad foundation for relationships I agree, and it helps that I’m honest with the BF and people who really matter ( read family). My hesitation also stems from the philosophy the BF keeps drilling into my head – we are on this earth for a limited period, we may or may not live as long as we think we will, so why not spend this limited time without any bitterness or hard feelings. If you feel bad about someone, forgive them. It may not change them, it’ll just make your burden lighter (seriously, I had NO idea I was marrying the Zen-Man himself. Sometimes, eight years are just not enough to get to know a person!!)

The one good thing that comes out of bad experiences is that one learns how NOT to behave with others. How NOT to take friends or families for granted. How NOT to hurt others.

Thank God for small mercies ūüôā


Every morning, on my way to work, I see a lady¬†on a bike. She ferries this young girl behind her, a girl around 14-15 years of age, fair, delicate to the point of being fragile and with the most awesome flawless skin (take that from someone who’s valiantly battling the pimples on her way from puberty to menopause).

The girl is also a special-needs child.

She sits behind the lady¬†(who’s probably the mother) , facing the crowd behind the bike. She looks at me all bundled in my scarf,goggles and gloves and gives out a shy smile. She can’t¬†see my face, yet smiles at me. Pity she can’t¬† see me smile back, which is good in a way, because it pales in comparison to the innocence¬†and beauty of her’s. I wonder where the lady¬†takes the girl everyday. I wonder if the mother is working and if, on her way to work, drops the young girl¬†at a care center. I wonder if the young one is being looked¬†after well. I wonder how the mother feels when she lets go of her young daughter, who apart from being a special needs child, is also blossoming into a stunning woman. What are the mother’s insecurities?What would I do in her place? And like always, I’m left clueless. And like always, when I think of such children, I rush to hug the twins and thank the Almighty for saving me the trauma. Because I know I cannot be strong like the lady¬†I see everyday. God bless her and her daughter and keep the young girl safe!


There were two road incidents that happened yesterday and today. In both cases, I was on the correct side of the road and was being cut across by men who were on the wrong side. In both the cases, I had to brake hard to avoid a collision. And in both cases, the men yelled at me and sped off.

The absolute cheek!

I’ve seen men ranting against the driving skills of women. But I seriously fail to understand, what gives them the authority to claim ownership of the roads? What gives them the right to break the rules and yell at women who come in their way, women who are following the¬†rules and keeping to their lane! Even with the BF, I’ve noticed that he wouldn’t blink an eye if a guy zig-zags¬†on a bike¬†through the traffic. But the moment he’s behind a car driven by a woman, he has to groan out aloud about her driving skills. A sharp jab in the ribs often silences him. But I can silence only one man. I can’t stand on the roads and yell at every other guy that his driving skills suck!!

Even in the two incidents above, the guys yelled out loud and one even called me *gasp* maushi!!


That bugger was easily two decades older than me!! Having the wit and speed of a land turtle, I came up with a¬†fitting reply this afternoon. Hopefully, the next time I meet any such miscreant, I’ll remember this reply and blurt it out right then and there!


Last evening, I asked Little Shobs to run to the room and fetch my cell phone. He didn’t budge. I repeated my request. He still wouldn’t leave my side.

So I asked him a little sternly as to why he wasn’t making a move.

“Mumma…..Mai chhota hai¬†na. Mujhe¬†darr¬†lagta¬†hai¬†na. Ishiliye¬†mai¬†nai¬†jaata”.

Huh!! My kid is latching on to reasoning! Making excuses!

Is that an early grave I see in the distance?!


Last, but not the least, some good news to wrap up the rants!

One of BF’s best friend’s wife delivered twins – a girl and a boy!!

Co-incidence or what?!!

Reminds me of that Ad (Dunno what exactly it was ) where a bearded man (supposedly God) is busy with something and keeps clicking the image of twins on his monitor, which causes twin births around the world !

Anyone know what that Ad is??


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A Day in The Life of India

Got these in the mail. Thought of posting it under Monday Laughs, but then thought, its never too early to spread some cheer ūüôā

Check these out, totally Howl-arious ūüėÄ !!

Ooohh!! Me scared!!


Speechless ūüėź


Cricket does that to us ūüôā




When you have to go, you have to go!!


Really!! I'm trying hard to be offended here!


Exactly what God likes!!A real good rub from the house of the 'Unknown' ūüėÄ


ROFL!! ūüėÄ

Errmmm... Guilty ūüėõ


How appropriate ūüôā




Thanda Thanda!!


The Irony !!!


Some circus act, this!!

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(I staretd writing this post yesterday, but never got a chance to complete it . Thought of updating the first paragraph, but then thought, what the hell, you guys should know what I wanted to write yesterday !! So, without any corrections, I present Р)

Hiya People, its Monday morning once again, but by the time I finish this post and hit publish, you’d be just getting ready to slip into your pyjamas and call it a day. Nevertheless, my good wishes stay ūüôā

The weekend update post is not as busy (or long) ¬†as it was a couple of weeks back. Apart from the nanny who bunked both days and the MIL who wasn’t home on Saturday to the BF¬†, who was home, but totally useless, I’ve had my hands full. But I survived to write this post,¬† didn’t I?

I initially thought of listing all the events of the weekend, but then better sense prevailed and I’m now just categorizing all that I did and didn’t ūüôā

What I Did Do

Cooking. Nimkis¬†and pooris to Mutton Curry to Desi ghee (yeah, including the churning butter part. Quaint, isn’t it ūüėÄ )

Minding the kids. No comments ūüėź

Minding the Fort (aka the household)

Minding the mood swing (drat that bluddy India-SA match!!)

Washing clothes (the washing machine went KAPUT ūüė¶¬† and I don’t give my clothes to the maid)


What I Didn’t Do

Shopping for essentials (grocery and stuff which was HIGH priority for the last two weeks. Blame the nanny for bunking and ruining my plans ūüė¶ )

Visit the parlour (*ahem* this is kinda rare activity, but since the BF commented not so kindly that I resembled a grizzly bear, me thought some TLC at the neighbourhood beauty spot was much needed)

Make biscuits (which I’ve been planning for ages….err…make that 2.5 years or the time since we bought our microwave!)

Operation Cupboard-Clean-Up (planned for months now. The strategy is in place, execution is pending!)

The twins were good as gold and stuck to their routine of pulling off the hair on my head, strand by strand.¬† I’m rather immune to the pain by now. As for the BF, the lesser said, the better. I’ve never understood the fanaticism behind cricket, but I’m sure I hate the game for what it makes of my man.Grouchy, grumpy, grunty. Stuck to¬† the couch and not even getting up for a loo break. Lunch, tea and dinner, all served at a fixed spot in front of the TV. The kids can holler like red-indians for all he cares. The wife can wail piteously, wring her hands in frustration and threaten to leave the house with the kids forever and all he’ll do is ask her to shut the door as she leaves. Because menial jobs like that cannot be carried out during crucial matches.

So the wife took out her anger on a BIG lump of maida (mixed with salt, kalonji and dried methi) , pounding it for all she was worth, rolling them out, cutting out small circles with a steel glass and then deep-frying them. The twins LOVED them, which was a big high, given that Shobs rarely chews anything and Lui has a sweet tooth.

Snack time ūüôā *


Sunday turned out as usual sans the guest list of the previous few weeks. The BF vented his ire on India’s loss by storming out of the house at 7 AM to play a match at the stadium near our place. It didn’t help. His team lost the match. He stormed right back in and didn’t come out of the room for the rest of the day.

The twins were better today, and by that I mean , they allowed me to spend some time cooking and washing my clothes. In fact, the twins assisted me in drying the wash ūüôā (there’s this small matter me needing to rinse a couple of them twice after the kids dropped them). It was fun ūüôā

BTW, did I tell you about how enlightening it is to churn butter? I didn’t? Ok, well, here goes – You collect oodles of malai. When the box can take no more, you add a dash of curd to it, mix it well and kept in a warm corner. Also, make sure you transfer the curd-mixed malai to a larger container. You wouldn’t want to clean up the resulting mess otherwise! Next morning, you have two options –

a)  make the butter this way*

b) or use technology*

Guess which route I took ūüėČ ?!!

Once you’ve got the butter separated from the buttermilk, dump it into a vessel, load on the gas-burner, ignite and leave it alone to simmer and cook for ages (believe me, it took an agonizing 2 hours for the final ghee to materialize ūüė¶ )

That said, I think the best part about the weekend was the super-duper time spent with the pests. They got in the way, stole the nimkis, bawled for apples when there were none, peed all over the place and generally had a good time. I had a good time too, because seriously, one can howl and rant over the mess which needs cleaning up, but its all worth it when your kids jump on your back and give you an impromptu kiss, or say ,”Mamma…Aa lau too” in their most serious voice!!

Yes, it’s totally worth the mess ūüôā

* All images sourced from Google Images :)


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Pardon Ma Enlish!


"...because we know exactly what the Iraq goverment surface tastes like! And Oh, never mind our butter. He does stuff like that when he takes a beating!"


Because they don't like to have the Soup for the un-sluts!


"Well!!Corn's not all that sweet these days, you know!!"


Just what your toddler would LOVE to do !! Buy it, I say!


" Kindly leave your address at the reception. We'll send them witches as soon as possible."


Any other price is O' so passé


"As if the window of your corporation wouldn't be disturbed!!"


"Looks like our corn has competition!!"


"Am still figuring out this one ūüėź "


"If it weren't for those pretty illustrations, I would've got it all wrong. Seriously."


More crazy language tranlations here.

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A very good friend from work is a bit peeved with me. She thinks I shouldn’t do something that I’m doing currently. A matter of self-respect and all.

I don’t mind her ūüôā .¬† Maybe what she feels could be true to a certain extent. Lets see your opinion at the end of this post.

The situation is this – The company I work for (and NOT the client-side) is holding a clothes¬†collection drive in celebration of¬†the Women’s day/week. I had spread the word among my friends at the client side about the collection drive. I asked them if they had any old clothes¬†to donate and if yes, they could hand it over to me so that I could hand it over to the NGO my company is supporting (Goonj ). Now, I’m not new to Goonj. I was donating clothes on behalf of the organization when it was being run¬†with a support staff of only two people – Anshu Gupta and his wife. The cause is a noble one and it gives me immense sense of satisfaction doing this small act of charity.

The friends have been diligently handing over bags full of clothes which I’m taking home everyday. At the end of this week, I’ll go to my office and dump the clothes in the container there.

Now this particular friend does not like my ‘asking’ others for clothes behaviour. She’s feeling bad for me. Apparently, she feels my self-respect is taking a beating when¬†I request people to give their old clothes to me. For a person who doesn’t know what I’m collecting for, the request may seem like begging for clothes for myself ūüėÄ . And somehow, even this possible assumption doesn’t bother me at all!! But it does her. Because she cares for me. Because she’s a very good friend and feels that I should stop going over the ‘limit’ in my initiative.

My maternal grandmother was the principal of a primary school. She started earning a living when there were very few women who stepped out of their houses to earn. Her qualification and post did not stop her from going door-to-door, asking people for clothes they don’t need, collecting them and then distributing it all to the poor slum dwellers. She knew most of those people by name and knew which family was deserving and which could manage without her help. My mother carries forward¬†the tradition by doing her bit. Only difference being, my mom includes grains and money in her charity. She doesn’t go from door to door asking for clothes, but she does collect all our old clothes and hands them over to the needy. She may not spend so much on us as she spends on providing grains and fruits to people who can’t afford it. If she comes to know of a family in need, she makes sure that she is able to do as much for them as is feasible.

I’ve grown up seeing my mother and her simple acts of giving. Though my efforts are a mere drop in the ocean of philanthropy, I like it when I’m able to devote some time to it. I may not be¬†a regular, but the opportunities like the one given by my company, are hard to resist. That is why, I go about asking, requesting or at times, pleading. Before you start assuming that I’m blowing my own trumpet, let me clarify that I’m not the giver here (sometimes, but not always). I’m neither the receiver. I’m just the connection between the giver and receiver. I gain nothing, expect maybe goodwill and I definitely don’t lose anything (expect my pride, according to my friend). But then, what use is pride if you cannot hold your head high and claim that you did something for people whom you don’t know. People who were needy or people who were very needy, but too proud to ask.

I don’t feel small doing what I do. If I have to go to everyone’s desk and ask for help, I’ll do it. If I have to make the rounds of the slums myself and distribute the clothes, I’ll do it ( I have done it). If I have to send reminders for help, I’ll be thick-skinned and do it. I’m not sure how other’s see me, am not even sure if I should be bothered about what other’s say (and I’m specifically talking about the one’s who don’t believe in giving). I’m not doing anything great, but as I see it, I’m NOT doing anything wrong either. And that is what matters the most to me!

But tell me folks, what do you think the world would be like, if ALL of us took out some time to do little acts of charities, made it a mandatory event in our weekly calendars, booked our time for it?

And think of the world where ALL of us stepped back, refused to look towards the needy, turned a blind eye to the increasing mound of old clothes and unused house-hold stuff in our backyards and continued with our regular lives.

Which world do you think, would be a better place to live in??

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…………….or Picasso’s for that matter. Neither do I look for a Shakespeare or an Edison.

I’m not sure what I want. But I guess I’m pretty clear on what I do NOT.

I do NOT want my kids to start on their PhD thesis when they are yet to come out of their diapers.

I do NOT want to prophecy what my kids will become when they grow older.

I do NOT want to start planning strategies for their career paths.

I do NOT want to initiate cultivating their hidden talents.

I do NOT want geniuses.

I want my babies to be babies till the time they are old enough to group with other babies in places called as play groups.

I want them to retain¬†their innocence (and NOT ignorance. There’s a difference) till is is impossible to stay so.

I want to extract the maximum of this time which is fast receding. There is too much information around, too much exposure, too many influences. Its a matter of time before they start questioning everything we say or do. The era of blind faith is obsolete. And I want to hold on to the last vestiges of that faith as long as I can , before I have to face the ocean of unanswered questions.

Am I an ostrich?


I’m hiding under the sand, hoping that the impeding change will never come. But it has to. I know that. At some levels, I’m okay with it. Resigned to my fate, is more like it. The sands of time will blow my way and I have no option but to go where it goes.


I’m not in favour of pushing my kids in that direction. At least, not now.

So the twins, at 2 years and 3 months don’t know their alphabet yet.

They can’t count from 1 to 10. Heck, they can’t count. Period.

They don’t know any rhymes or care for songs.

The MIL heard a neighbours child reciting nursery rhymes and was appalled¬†that our kids didn’t even know Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star¬†(its a different matter that both my kids beg me to stop as soon as I start reciting the poem!). Another relative’s kid can sing songs and dance. Good for them, I say.

I’m glad that kids these days are picking up knowledge so fast. And in this fast paced world, it doesn’t worry me that my kids lag way behind other children. No, I’m not worried at all. So my kids don’t know the alphabet, but they can tell a tiger from a Hippo. My kids don’t recite rhymes, but they prefer Animal Planet to Cartoons (they hate cartoons. Go figure!!). They can’t count, but they know when its time to feed their Big-dadi her medicines.

They do a hundred new things everyday and I marvel at their intelligence which is their own. I’m yet to ‘teach’ them anything. What they know now is of their own merit. Little Shobs¬†knows each thing has to be¬†put back in its place once its work is done. Lui¬†is deft with her fingers, capable of closing bottle lids or taps, untying knots, clipping her hair-pin or peeling garlic! The twins know how to read our mood and behave accordingly. They know that the way to their father’s heart is different from the way to their mother’s.¬† They know how to avoid the BIL¬†when they have done something naughty and how to twist their mother and dadi¬†around their little pinkies. The only dance they can do is hop around shouting “Balle¬†Balle” and that too, when the mood strikes them, which is mostly when any news report is playing on the tube (they don’t react to songs, which makes me think they are not so much musically inclined after all ūüėź ).

I know the kids are clever and sharp. They have to see us doing something once and are quick to pick it up. Maybe that’s why I’m not so worried about their¬†academic delay. Studies will come. It is unavoidable. And I know that I’m going to be rather¬†strict when it comes to their grades. I’m no Amy Chua, but I take education seriously because I can see the vast difference it makes to one’s life. I know I will compel my kids to do better, but only when I know they can take up that challenge. Right now, in my eyes, the twins are still too young to take up any challenge other than the ones related to potty training or brushing their teeth. These are hurdles in themselves. The kids know it. Sometimes, when they are able to control themselves till the time they reach the loo, they are praised. When they don’t, we talk to them sternly about it and ask if they know where they should pee and where they shouldn’t! The twins are battling these small (for us) obstacles everyday. It takes effort on their part and for that I’m grateful. Because they put in that effort. Because they know they have to try.

I don’t really look forward to immense fame and fortune¬†for my children. Both are spoilers (adults get spoilt too!!). I want them to develop capability. To learn how to earn, to nurture their knowledge, to respect other’s. I know that if they have any talent, all I have to do is be open about developing it. If they have it, they will make it. I can provide¬†the means, I cannot provide¬†the drive. The only thing I might pester them for , is good education, because that opens a lot of doors for other choices in life.¬†I really don’t know what will come tomorrow. I do not know what kind of challenges the kids will face, what kind of peer-pressure, what kind of environment. Some of their battles will be their own and I can only be a silent spectator on the side, directing my best wishes (and prayers) their way.

A lot of my sentiments arise from the fact that my parents today rue that they didn’t let me pursue my dreams. I don’t¬†blame them at all. They come from a generation which believed that the only way to the top was to be¬†a doctor or an engineer. There was hardly any exposure to the finer arts or alternative careers. There was a time when I was into designing dresses and hand-stiching¬†them for my dolls. I was all of 11 years old. But I had ideas. Loads of them. I would make gowns, hats and even feather boas with real down. I had a huge box full of stuff such as cloth pieces, buttons, needles, beads. Those days, we didn’t have any internet. We didn’t even have cable television (it came some time later). My ideas were my own. The parents saw the talent for what it was, but were reluctant to let me continue in the same field. One other reason could be that the exorbitant fees and hostel¬†charges of designing schools were beyond their budget. Dad was already supporting a large extended family plus his own on his meagre Army salary. I think, the margin to satisfy my skill just didn’t exist. All they could think of, was to make their children doctors or engineers.

Sadly,none of us became any of the two. But all of us did well in our chosen careers. Now when I look back and see my parents upset over how work and homely responsibilities leave me with very little time to pursue my dreams, I feel bad. I feel bad for them, because they did the best they could, which is far more than what most parents do for their children (and daughters in particular). I know that they have given me something more, the ability to pursue my dreams without being dependent on anyone. If tomorrow I want to start a business and create my own line, I can earn and save for it today. I don’t have to ask the BF or anyone else to chip in for me. If I still have the drive, I’ll make it work. If I don’t, I still have my ability to earn through my current means. It is difficult for me to explain this to the parents. They wallow in guilt in spite of me doing well. Because they know,¬†this line was never my first choice.¬†I don’t want my kids to grow up and feel the same about me as I do about my parents.

Lately, Lui’s¬†been¬†going around the house saying, “Mai doctor hai”. Everyone fawns over her and claims loudly that she will indeed be a doctor. But I don’t see it that way. I smile indulgently because I know she doesn’t yet know what a doctor means. Whether her interests lies in that direction, I wouldn’t know now. So I resist from predicting. I guess it helps me to keep a broader perspective on what she might eventually gravitate towards. It is not my path I have to focus on. Its her’s. And the same applies for Shobs too.

I’m not blind to the fiercely competitive environment today. People having kids as old as the twins are running across the city, filling forms for play groups or nursery. Some of the kids are younger than the twins. I confess to doing the rounds myself. Some schools sold themselves by saying that they teach the toddlers the alphabets and how to write. I gasped in shock, where as they took it as a sign of my amazement. I was appalled that they made two-year old kids hold a pencil and write the letters. WHY?!! Why not let them do all that when they join a proper school with formal education. If I teach them to write now, what will they learn when they are in nursery or KG? This craze of teaching children stuff from one or two classes above does not bode well with me. Why can’t we stick to letting them be kids at least till they are in Play-group. Isn’t that what the word play-group means?!!

This post turned out to be¬†longer than I had anticipated ūüôā . It’s just that I’m tired of answering a hundred questions on why I haven’t already admitted my children to a school yet. Sometimes, I humour them by saying that I never want to let the kids stray away from the home and hearth (here I strongly wish we had the system of home schooling as in the USA). Sometimes, I just feel like giving them the finger!!

Frankly, I just want my kids to be¬†the kids they are. I’m not looking for the greatness that may or may not be in them. If it exists, it won’t stay hidden. If not, I still love my babies and will make sure they get a decent education. Maybe, when they are old enough to read and understand and visit these pages, they might realize that I haven’t strayed much from what I’ve put down here. That I’ve done the best I can for them and that all I want from them is to say that¬†they love me¬† ūüôā

What else does a mamma want anyway?

On that note, to all the women (and specially those with kids)¬† reading this, Happy Women’s Day ūüôā

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