Of Bijoya Blessings and Wishes

Yesterday was Bijoy Dashami. I'm still waiting for the MIM to return from the bisarjan (immersion). It was a good day...

Every year, without fail, I feel slightly sad on this day.
Sad that the five days that bring us together as a community, are over. We can now go back to forgetting about our neighbour's existence.

Sad that five days of dressing up morning and evening in new clothes, accessorizing and making the effort to look good, are over. From tomorrow I can wear my potato sacks and look all dull, colourless and lack-lustre.

Sad to see the Woman who dwells deep inside my heart and to Whom I constantly turn to with my cribs and rants and raves, Has to Go, Taking all Her Beauty, Grandeur and Splendidness with Her. From tomorrow, I have to go back to talking to the memory of this year's ravishing Images of Her in my head.

But, in all Her Benevolence, She Leaves behind an abundance of blessings. And hope.

For yesterday, after the sindoor khela, I stood there looking at Her Beautiful Face and then came home to find one of Her blessings waiting for me. And I decided to count all my blessings...

• My EO and YO. They are precious, innocent and beautiful. They are my biggest blessings. I sat back amused and watched the EO fiddle with his hair after coming back home from a friend's house. They had been experimenting with gel and it was the EO's first time. It seemed a blessing to just be able to watch from a distance and then to be called in to share the moment. I watched with even more amusement as the YO followed his dada around, wanting to be like him, with the gel and spiked hair (more like after-bath-uncomed-wet-hair) and everything. Motherhood is full of moments like these and yes, motherhood is a blessing.
• My MIM. I don't say it enough, but the man adores me. He infuriates me to the point of insanity, true, but yes, he still does love me in huge, big, truck-load amounts. And that is a blessing too.
• My parents. They are healthy and safe and near me and I can't be grateful enough. Their health is a blessing.
• My brother. He lives soooo far away and we are hardly in touch. But I know he's on my side, he's my rock and he's still my biggest fan. Siblings are always a blessing.
• My friends. They are there to prop me up, hold me and love me for who I am. I don't have many, but the ones I have are absolute keepers. Friendship is a blessing.
• My MIL. She's gentle, kind and sweet. And the best thing of all, is that I can talk to her like a friend. You don't get many in her mould, I can promise you that. She is a blessing.
• My FIL. A man I have a difficult and very tempestuous relationship with. We fight, we argue; he makes me cry, sulk and brood in my room, but...he's also a huge fan of my work. He's immensely proud of me and boasts to his friends about me whenever he gets the chance. We have our differences, She soooo knows we do!, but sometimes we do get along...famously! And that's a blessing.
• My blog buddies. I've said this before and I know I'll probably say it again, but the comfort that I get from you all has been like a life-line to me. Your words, your comments, your understanding of my feelings and experiences, have often been a string and steady stream of light in a very dark, dank and musty cave. You are all a blessing.

Shubho Bijoya to you all. May your lives always be full of blessings...blessings that count, blessing that matter and blessings that make you happy. Peace, joy, good health and love be with you and yours.

So what was the blessing that triggered this off? I got my author copy of "Chicken Soup for the Indian Teenager's Soul" yesterday and I just couldn't help but be gobsmacked at the date it chose to arrive. When I tore open the packet, I felt truly, truly blessed.

Mamma's Secret

(This poem was published in the inaugural issue of Mother&Baby, May '08)

Hey boys and girls, I have a secret for you,
It’s about the everyday things that all mammas do.
When mamma tickles your feet and your little toes,
When funnily she starts to twitch her nose;
When she starts to ruffle the hair on your head
And dances with you on top of the bed;
Whenever she makes you a chocolate milkshake
And the two of you laugh till your bellies ache;
When mamma kisses you every morning and night,
And when you are scared and she holds you real tight;
Through all the breakfasts and lunches and dinners she makes,
With all the puddings and cookies and cakes that she bakes;
Whenever she takes you for a pretend ride on her broom,
Even when she scolds you and then softly cries in her room;

It’s in all these little things that she does for you,
That mamma’s secretly telling you that she loves you!!

The Importance of Being Hritik

(This article of mine appeared in this month's issue of Mother&Baby...July '08. I hope you guys enjoy it!!)

The Importance of Being Hritik

Hritik Roshan is more than just a Greek God with oodles, pools and hidden reserves of talent. He is more than a sculpted body to lust for. He is more than a sexy daydream who makes many female (and I’m sure some male) insides flutter deliciously and then melt away in a deliriously wanton manner. Sigh.

You can talk all you like about the machismo of Jackie Shroff and Vinod Khanna. The chocolaty good looks of Jimmy Shergill and Neil Nitin Mukesh. The cool dude attitude of Chhote Nawab and Baby B. And the ‘je ne sais quoi’ about the Badshah and the Big B.

Hritik is all that. And so much more.

Sue me all you other Hritik fans, but I was only marginally impressed by his first film. While all my friends were falling around me in dead faints, I was giving him a ho-hum. In ‘Fiza’ I gave a salute to his acting skills. Then, a couple of years later, ‘Koi Mil Gaya’ happened and I sat up and took notice. There seemed to be intelligence and talent oozing out of every pore. And finally, dhoom! It hit me! In ‘Dhoom 2’ I was a goner! I sank like a brick weighed down by a tonne of lead. Wow!

And turns out, I wasn’t the only one. Even my hubby and bro-in-law (and they are both macho pieces of manhood with high levels of testosterone), sat up and went ‘Wow!’ Yes, yes, the ‘Krazy Kiya Re’ babe also happened to be a strong factor, but they were mighty, mighty impressed with his dancing skills. The title track of the movie became a firm favourite in our household almost overnight. That dance was my undoing.

And my son’s.

Yes. My four-year-old fell hook-line-and-sinker for this magnificently structured man with the mind-blowing dance moves. He was even christened ‘Hhoom Machale’ by my boy. By express request, I would have to play the song and the video at least ten times a day and at first, my son would just watch with his mouth wide open. A few days later, suddenly I saw him get up and try and copy the dance moves! With absolute sincerity and total dedication, he tried the leg raises, the splits and the pelvic thrusts. He even took my dupatta to uses as a scarf! It was side-splittingly funny as well as heart-wrenchingly adorable. It was one of those moments when I physically felt my heart lurch as it sprang to life to take a photograph.

I soon discovered that my nephew was a fan too. And together, these two adorable boys would try to shake a leg like the man himself. They even played ‘pretend’ games where they would fight over who would get to be ‘Hhoom Machale.’ And their mission? Oh just about anything from saving the world to winning races. The hero in their little games was always you-know-who.

A couple of days later, I was dressing him up for a wedding and I said, “You’re looking so handsome my sweetheart!” Immediately he went to the mirror, looked at himself and then looked back at me with his big, beautiful eyes sparkling, a huge smile flashing. He then asks me so seriously, so innocently, so sweetly, “Like Hhoom Machale?” I hugged him close to my soul and said, “No, so much better!”

So thank you Hritik. Not for the daydreams and the dancing. But for these sweet little moments that I shared with my son. And all because you’ve got the right moves.

Oh and yes, in thy name, I can always get him to finish his food. “Eat your parwal sweetheart. You want to be like Hhoom Machale, don’t you?” Gone. All of it. In just a few quick bites and gulps!

So yeah. Thanks.