Wishes for 2012

It's already Day 3 of a brand new year. 2012 is well and truly underway.

I wish you all the serenity of moonlit nights and the joy of chocolate souffle.

I wish you the peaceful moments of reflection, as quiet as the dawn and a cool calm to face those morning moments of madness.

I wish you beauty, I wish you love.

I wish you creativity.

Be bold. Be brave. Be beautiful. Be true.

Stay happy. Stay healthy. Stay hopeful. Stay you.

Happy 4th Birthday YO!!

My darling little YO,

You're four years old today! Do you know what that means, my sweet? It means your toddler days are now behind you. It means officially you are a big boy! It means that I am now a mamma of two big boys -- in other words, I am now an old lady and can proceed towards vanaprastham!

Ok, ok, my wrinkled skin, wheezing lungs and creaking joints aside, let's look at you my little dynamo.

Dynamo. That word describes you perfectly. You're a power-packed, high-energy, bundle of zip, zap and zoom. You are always up for a game or two...especially if those games involve running, jumping and yelling out loud.

And, fearless -- that's another word for you. Nothing seems to faze you; you run at a crazy speed, you do somersaults, you climb up and stand on the window sill and pretend you're Superman, and you love jumping from the steps which gives your dad quite a scare -- so you do it when he's not around! You've gotten quite good at it too, with all the practice that you've been sneaking in! You go about it pretty wisely too -- you started off by skipping the last step, which quickly became the last two, then three and now four. Last seen, you were trying for five. I like the way you go about it; smartly and not like a fool rushing in. You set your sights on the step, practice jumping from it over and over and over again, until you are absolutely confident and then once you are sure that you have thoroughly mastered it, you then set your heights higher. Those are two very important lessons you've taught yourself -- take things one at a time and practice makes perfect and I really hope you're like this about everything you choose to do in your life.

You know you're seriously skinny, right! In fact I call you my little shrimp, my chingri maach. Your father is very, very worried...but then what else is new, right? Ok, I am too, a bit, so will you please eat already?!?

You are so loving it actually takes my breath away. When you were younger, you were actually stingy with your hugs and kisses...the few you chose to dispense were usually meant for your father. And now, you are so, soooooo generous with your 'huggeejj and kisheejj' that you dole them out to one and all...even grannies, aunties and didis you've known for just a few hours. And your kisheejj! Oh, but they're the softest, gentlest, sweetest things on this Earth and they just make me greatly greedy for more! I can never have enough of them and your "I laab jyu's!" And luckily you're ever ready with a supply whenever I demand it. If I step out of the house even for five minutes, you throw your arms wide open and come running to me yelling, "Mammmaaaa...huggeeeeejjjjjj and kisheeeeeejjjjj bye-bye!!" It's the same when your brother leaves for school and your dad leaves for office.

I love the way you play. You're open to all kinds of games. When you're with your cousin sister, the two of you are busy playing House, Doctor, School and all sorts of other role-playing games. But of course once the big boys are home you're ready to be a super hero or Chota Bheem and of course fight with the EO over who gets to be Krishna. Often your games to save the world end up destroying the living room but your laughter makes my universe spin!

Oh, and this has to be recorded for posterity...when you grow up, you want to be Noddy!! How adorable are you?

Sigh...my little pixie prince, my adorable imp, do you have any idea how much you've changed my life? You've filled it with energy, life-affirming laughter and precious, priceless laughter.

I am so, so, so blessed to be your Mamma.

Love you forever and ever and ever!

Your Mamma

Happy 7th Bithday, my precious EO

Dearest EO,

Seven years, baby. You turned seven-years-old yesterday. Where did the time fly, my darling, beautiful boy? I still remember our first day at home as a mommy-and-sonny-boy couple, when I sit with you in the chair, cradling you in my arms and crying big, fat tears as I stared in wonder at your sleeping face. Your father walked into the room just then and alarmed at seeing the tears (fearing post-natal depression, I suspect), worriedly asked me, "What's wrong?" I remember looking up at him and smiling. I said, "Nothing. I'm just so happy."

And that's the way it's been, ever since. I've been crazy happy about the thought, fact and reality of you being my son.

Seven years old. You are truly a big boy now. I can't say it enough, but you really are my soul's song and my heart's delight. And oh the myriad ways in which you delight me, my darling boy!

• You've inherited my love for books. You can spend hours reading and it fills me with such peace and pleasure to see your nose buried between the pages of something that's got you hooked hard. And I'm not just talking comic books and Noddy stories. No, you're in it for real! I had invested in a set of Children's Encyclopaedia called "I Wonder Why" when you were just a year old. Yes, one thing that I was adamant about was the fact that my kids would have a well-stocked library, so I started building it up, bit by bit, even before you were born!! Anyway, back to "I Wonder Why" -- you are fascinated by them! You actually sit and read them, paying great attention to the words, pictures and captions. One of your favourite books is this huge tome on animals that your mamu and baba bought for you this year from the book fair. You can while away an entire afternoon just with that one book. You love going to book stores; you even start to read something that's caught your eye standing right where you are! You love reading so much that if you're entwined in the fabric of a story so completely, you HATE going downstairs to play in the evenings...and even though I sympathise (being like that myself when I was your age) I insist you go out and get your evening quota of fresh air and running around. A couple of months ago, you sat down with the children's section of The Telegraph and finished it in one go. You get excited whenever I get you the latest edition of The Magic Pot. And what brought a lump to my through was when you sat down with an edition of Mother&Baby magazine and read my column from start to finish and after you were done, you looked up at me and smiled. Sigh!! And that's why, even though many people would probably be horrified and aghast, I knew your father and I were doing the right thing in gifting you a treasury of Disney Tales (from your brother) and a big, huge, encyclopaedic atlas (from us), this year for your birthday. And yup! True to form, you LOVE them!! (Of course, your father wants to give you something 'fun' as well, but I'm good, 'cause you're so happy with what you've got.)
• Music is your other great love and it's not surprising considering the genes you've inherited...from both sides! You have a good ear, a wide range of likes and loves, a sweet voice and are quick to pick up the words to a song that grabs your senses. It thrills me no end to hear you sing and then to have your kaka and baba react with surprise, "He knows the words to this song?" Recent cases in point; we were driving back from Shanti Niketan and you were sitting on your kaka's lap and when "Shot Through the Heart" started playing he exclaimed in surprise and delight, "He knows the words to a Jon Bon Jovi?" You continued to astound and delight him by singing the words of the chorus to popular numbers from Three Idiots, Queen, Micheal Jackson and Abba. And then, last Sunday, at the dining table, while waiting for lunch to be served, you suddenly started singing the 2010 FIFA anthem by K'Naan...you're father couldn't be more surprised and delighted; I couldn't help my heart swelling. Even before you turned five, your Junior Music Class teacher from CSM told me to enrol you for instrument classes. I'm sorry it took me this long, but better late than never. Your loving Dida has given you a guitar for your birthday and classes start tomorrow. It's the start of a whole new chapter in your life, darling!
• You love acting and are very comfortable on stage, just like me. Durga Pujo 2010 promises to be interesting. I'm holding my breath and walking on eggshells...
• You have a fascinating imagination and are creative with language. You say things that take us completely by surprise and have your father and me looking at you in wonder! Your sense of humour also borders on the sarcastic...kinda a la Bing! (When you grow up, you will know what that means, because you're my son and there's no way you can't not know!)
• I love watching you get big-brotherly with the YO; how sweetly you looked after him and comforted him at that big b'day party in Sat C, when I had stepped out to take your cousin to the loo and he started crying because he couldn't find me; how instinctively you try to shield him from my anger when he's done something naughty and scolding-worthy. Yes, you are a good big brother and may this bond and love only grow stronger with every passing day.
• I absolutely LOVE the fact that you love my cooking. You love it to such an extent that you actually do a happy dance yelling "Yaaayyy!!" when you see me sweating over a stove in the kitchen!
• Sometimes, when I go to pick you up from school and you see me from a distance, you come running towards me at full speed to envelop me in a giant hug. You don't care who's watching, you just do what you have to do. I revel in that and I enjoy every moment and nano-second of it, because who knows when the taunts of "mama's boy" may start and then those public displays of love, emotion and affection, just may come to a grinding halt. Hug away, darling, hug away. I'm you're giant, squishy pillow to hug and hold.

And while you can still throw a tantrum to rival the best of a two-year-old's, I've seen you learn to toughen up a bit and learn to defend yourself...and for that I'm glad. Yes, you're still given to tears (sigh!), but you're trying to bring that under control too. And while I encourage your sensitivity and your sweetness, I need you to be able to give it back to those who do you wrong. The world is full of mean kids and bullies -- you've seen that for yourself -- you cannot let them see you crying. It's sad. And heartbreaking for me too, to think of you developing a think skin, but it's for your own good, so that those mean words, cruel jibes and ugly insults can bounce off your back and not make a dent. All I ask is that you leave a flap open for our words and energies of everlasting love, support, encouragement and comfort to find their way into your heart.

Maybe I'm worrying unnecessarily, because your guileless laughter and endearing innocence still fills our world everyday. They have the power to turn me into liquid pools of mommy love. You can't sleep unless I've read to you; you love it when I sing to/for you; you throw yourself into me, often knocking me off my feet to give me bone-crushingly tight hugs; you love to remind me a couple of times a day that you love me most; you ask me again and again who I love most; you sometimes ask me when your dadu will come back; you still ask to sleep in our bed; you love and fight with your brother and cousin, over the chance to 'be' the hero of whatever latest movie or cartoon you've seen; and, one of the most telling, compelling and beautiful proofs of all, is that after the party yesterday, when I was putting you to bed and you were wondering which new goody you could sleep with, I suggested that you sleep with the present the night didi (ayah) gave you and you immediately agreed.

So, my beautiful, precious son, last night you slept with a stuffed Ganesha toy, made in the image of the God/Hero of the "My Friend Ganesha" movies. You made a hard-working woman who loves you, very happy and made your mother's bones, yet again, turn to oatmeal and her heart to slush.

I love you, my big baby. I love, love, love you...biggest, widest and heaviest.

Happy Birthday!

Forever your Mamma

It's Time for the Happy Happies to Begin

On 4th September, my first baby crossed a milestone. He left his twenties behind and entered the big 3-0.
No. I'm not talking about the EO.
I'm talking about my 'Baby' Bro.

Now while the bad rhyming was completely unintentional -- but once I realised that it was happening, I just went with it -- the sentiment is 100% big sisterly and true.

My baby brother; my source of wide-eyed wonder and delight; my first, biggest fan; my comfort zone...is thirty years old. The mere thought of it just boggles the mind.

Once again, I lament the geographical distance; that he is so far away from me/us. For twelve years now, he's been celebrating his birthday away from family, which means he's missed, or rather we've missed, quite a few milestone birthdays of his...18th, 20th and now, 30th. There's something rather heart-breakingly sad about watching an adored and once-upon-a-time-totally-doted-upon younger sibling, grow up and become a man, far away from you.

And what a terrible 30th year this is...minus one of our parents.

We all know that this time is an eventuality in our lives, but there's such a heaven-and-hell difference in the abstract concept and the actual reality of it.

But knowing the kind of person that Daddy Dearest was, I'm sure he spent the 4th popping open a bottle of champagne, pouring out a few pegs for his new Friends, and smiling down gently upon his one and only son.

Happy birthday, baby Bro. A sucky year for all of us, my pet. Next year, may you get the happiness that you so richly deserve.

Poila Boishakh 1417

April 15th was Poila Boishakh. Bengali New Year.

The night-before, I was feeling depressed. The next day, I was going to go through another one of the dubious first's...my first Poila Boishakh without my DaddyDearest.

But I do wish everyone a Shubho Naboborsho. Forgive the delay. May you and yours have a year full of love, laughter, good health and make precious memories.

I made one on that day itself...

Both my boys are huge Krishna bhakts. I think all little boys are. They identify with his naughtiness and impish escapades.

Now, as is the trend in these parts, whenever the boys in this house watch a movie or hear a story that they like, they argue amongst themselve as to who is going to 'be' the hero of the piece. The most brutal fight my two sons have going between them most days is who gets to be Krishna. The fights involve a lot of kicking and screaming and the end result is someone often ends up in a bundle of tears...not me, I'm usually reduced to a mass of electrocuted, frazzled nerves by the end of their matches. This is one fight that The Nephew stays far away from. He has wisely chosen to 'be' Balaram, or rather, the EO 'suggested' that he be so since he is after all the eldest, and he sweetly complied.

Anyway, on Thursday, I was lazily moping around the house. After I finally got my butt into the shower, I wore my bright, new bandhni, skirt from Jaipur; sky blue and sunny yellow with big silver chumkis all around. When I opened my bedroom door, my little YO came rushing in excitedly. Why? Because he had (or rather his ayah had) tied a tuft hair on the top of his head. He loves doing this whenever he gets the chance. Why? Because he is Krishna of course!

So, he rushes in excitedly to show me his Krishna-style and stops in his tracks, totally thunderstruck. He looks me up and down...totally in awe. He then asks me, "Tumi ki poyeychho?" (What are you wearing?) And of course he answers it himself, "Shkaartsh?" (Shirt?) He can't take his eyes off my and gives me his shy, imp grin.

What he does next, stuns me. He shyly takes my hand and says "Esho, esho" (Come, come) and leads me out into the sitting room, to show me off to his brothers, who are engrossed in TV. Then he tells them excitedly, "Dekho, dekho! Amaar mumma ki pohechhey, dekho!!" The EO and The Nephew give me a cursory once-over, smile and zne out again.

The YO, still with a goofy, shy, adorable expression on his face; still holding on to my hand; softly says something which I can't catch. I ask him to repeat it and he says just a little bit louder, for my ears only, "Tumi maiyaa aar aami Kanha." (You are {Yashoda} maiyaa and I am {Krishna} Kanha).

Tears sprang to my eyes at my little boy's sweetness and innocence. No wonder he was so dumbstruck when he saw me in a skirt that he immediately identified as typical of what Yashoda maiyaa would wear. And the coincidence that I should choose to wear exactly that, while he chose that precise moment to channel his inner Natkhat Kanha, was too overwhelming for him.

His joy and innocence just bubbled over that day and made me warm and tingly all over.

May the year bring on many such moments for us all.

And with that, I wish you a Shubho Naboborsho once again.

It's a New Year...

...full of new hopes, dreams and prayers.


But as we move into 2010, may we not forget the blessings of the year gone by.


I have much to say, but for now, I just want to thank you all and wish your and yours, a wonderful year ahead full of light, love and laughter. Make new memories and friends. Do something you've never done before but have always wanted to. Forgive someone. Get in touch with a relative you haven't seen for a while. Have that extra piece of chocolate, do ten extra push-ups. Sing, dance, write, paint, create...and above all -- LIVE!!

A Birthday Wish and a Thought

Happy birthday to the first man in my life -- DaddyDearest. Having you live so close to me is knowing that my slice of peace and bliss are near. You're the bestest, daddy, and I wish for you a life free from aches, pains and worries. I wish for you peace of mind, contentment and huge large chunks of happy! Love you!

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Dear YO,

You know, today you are exactly as old as your brother was when you came into his life. I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about this little statistic and it's been on my mind for the past few weeks.

Perhaps it's because that time is a blur to me. I was so busy wrapping my brains around the fact that I was a mommy of two, that I seem to have missed out on precious moments with the both of you. Looking at you now, I seem to be getting a sense of what your brother may have been like at that time.

Or perhaps it's because you suddenly seem to have gone baby-crazy. You see a baby on TV and you're riveted. When you can finally tear your eyes away long enough, you shriek at the top of your voice, "Dekho! Dekho! Baby, baby, BABY!" Then this time at the pujo pandal, and even more recently at a birthday party, you just wanted to be with the baby there. You wanted to pick her up in your arms, carry her around, sit her down on your lap and just plain drink in the essence of her delightful baby smell and revel in being the big boy. It's almost like you're trying to tell me that you're ready to be a big brother.

Or perhaps all this wistful reminiscing is because you're growing up WAY too fast for me, my little one. I miss your chubby hands and dimpled thighs. I miss the gurgles and the coos and the cuddles.

I miss your babyhood, my baby.

Love,
Mamma

Happy Children's Day

My beloved EO and YO,

Yesterday was Children's Day and think I wished you both at least 22 times during the course of the day. While"Happy Children's Day, my boys" were the wishes spoken out loud, here are the unspoken wishes that I have for you.

This Children's Day, I wish for you a mother with an abundance of patience.
This Children's Day, I wish for you a father with an abundance of energy.
This Children's Day, I wish for you music and joy and evenings of cricket, cycling and friends. I wish for you bags full of giggles, boxes full of chuckles and truck-loads of hearty, belly-aching laughter. I wish for you funny faces and potty jokes. I wish for you cheeks flushed with good health, mouths full of good food and eyes full of love and twinkles.

This Children's Day, my loves, I wish for you, your precious childhood.
I love you both...biggest.
Mamma

And to my dear bloggy-mommies...I wish the same for your blessed children. I wish the same for all the children.

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.

Main Kya Karoo Yaah...

Happy birthday, MIM, you old man you!

And your double-chin notwithstanding, you've still got one helluva sexy glint in your eyes...or is that your eyesight failing you?

Sigh...the perils of old age; when massages that were once part of a romantic seduction scheme are now a means to soothe aching bones and joints.

Hugs and kisses baby!

Happy 6th Birthday, EO!!

My darling son,

Do you know what I’ll be doing right after I type this letter and press the ’publish’ button on BlogSpot? I’ll be cuddling up right next to you, keeping my promise to you.

You see, sometime in the afternoon, barely 12 hours ago, we were relaxing in your Dida’s house. We were talking about somebody’s, ahem-ahem, sixth birthday and that’s when you turned to me and said, “And for night-time mamma, please will you sleep in my bed?”

Oh my baby, how could I not?

How could I not want to look into your handsome, peaceful face as you dreamed dreams of the Divine and had your conversations with God?

How could I not want to peer at your sleeping form and gaze in wonder at this body that had become more than half my height, yet once lived inside of me, no bigger than a grape?

How could I not want to be squeezed awake by the tightest, happiest, warmest bear-hug ever given to me on the first day of your sixth year?

Happy sixth birthday my son, my boy, my pride and joy.

What a year it’s been for you.

I’ve seen you change schools for the third time in your young life and as before, you took my breath away. You didn’t throw tantrums. You adjusted on the first day itself. You made friends and found things to love about your school right from day one. Your new school has been more of an adjustment issue for me, than for you. You just embraced the change, recognised it as a part of your life from now onwards and soldiered on. You’re quite the little trooper and it never ceases to amaze me. Of course, you’d still be happier if there was no homework and if assessments didn’t exist, but then, so would I!

You started cricket class this year and you LOVE it! You look forward to it with glee and even though you need to take a million steps before you become a Sourav Ganguly, I am enjoying watching you enjoy yourself. Karate continues and you are an orange belt. I wish you had the same enthusiasm for it as you do for cricket, but at least you don't hate it. You go for it, because...well, because I make you, quite truthfully. Let's see, next year might see some changes in your co-curricular life.

You love travelling. At the beginning of this year, we took a family vacation to the Andamans. You are such a water baby, just like me! And you take delight in anything new and show your joy and enthusiasm with the pure, unbridled joy of a child that is so healing and soul-satisfying to watch. I’ll never forget your excitement on the glass-bottomed boat as we saw all those schools of rainbow fish, starfish and corals. And while on the subject of vacations, you went for your first international holiday. Although the trip was cut short due to a family emergency, we certainly made some happy memories which I shall cherish for a lifetime. How sweetly you chatted with your friend on the entire flight from Kolkata to Bangkok. How excited you were when you saw the hotel where we were staying. How thrilled you were when you saw that heavenly bathtub in the master bed-room. How deliriously happy you were when you saw the kids’ activity and playroom. How mesmerised you were by the show at Phuket Fantasea.

I’ve been reading to you almost ever since you were born in an effort to inculcate a love for books. Well, you certainly do love stories...and how! You’re ever ready for story-time, you love making up stories of your own, you follow the plots and dialogues of new movies with wide-eyed interest and always ask me the most astonishing and in-depth questions. It actually fills my heart with an unnameable pride to see you take a story book and pore over it, taking in each and every detail. I love how you take the story outside it’s life-span of those few pages and give the characters a new lease of life in your fantasy world, making up new adventures for them to face, new people for them to meet. What a lovely world you create, my son.

I also saw you try and desperately fit into the Age of Boyhood this year, shedding the last remnants of Toddlerdom behind. I saw you try and struggle with your emotions and try to keep them under check. I saw you fight tears and put on a brave face. I saw you stand at the fringes of games wanting very much to be a part of it all, but too hurt by unkind words and actions to swallow your pride and give in.

But there’s one area, where you haven’t been successful in becoming that Big Boy that you are so ready and anxious to be. And that is in the area of hugs, cuddles and ‘ador’. You love being the baby then and aren’t afraid to show it. Mamma’s lap is still the best place to read a book or watch TV from. Mamma’s arms are still the heavenliest place for a sound sleep. Baba’s tight embraces are still assurances that you are his ‘hirer tukro’. His bear hugs remind you that nowhere else in this world will you feel safer and more cocooned.

Oh my gentle son with eyes that say everything his heart wants to but can’t, do you have even the slightest idea what you’ve done to me? You’ve turned me into a mom. You’ve helped me become the best version of myself that I can possibly be. You are one of my greatest teachers. You are one of my greatest partners in fun. You are one of my life’s purest forms of bliss, love and joy. You are also my greatest prayer to God; for each time I see those eyes sparkle with the brightness of the North Star and that bone-melting smile, accompanied by that giggle that plays on my heart-strings, stretch across your beloved face, I can't thank God enough for giving you to me.

And I’m so grateful you’re mine.

Happy birthday, my EO. I want you to know that you’re smart, funny, caring and sensitive, and you are so full of surprises. Continue being just the way you are. And one day, in the not too distant future, you’ll turn into a gem of a man.

But for now, you are a gem of a boy.

And I’m so grateful that you’re my precious, priceless gem.

With eternal love and blessings,
Your Mamma

Happy Mother's Day to Us, One and All!

I had a gorgeous Mother's Day!

Took my mum out for lunch yesterday along with the YO. Spent the entire day shopping, after that. Tried calling her this morning to wish her, but she was out.
Wished my MIL with a gooey, soft, milky, chewey chocolate chip cookie. She said it was 'heavenly'! :)
Got a beautiful, handmade card from my boys (made with LOTS of help from their dad!) They gave it to me with lots of hugs and kisses and 'I love you's!! :D
Went out for lunch to 'Machaan', a jungle-themed restaurant. The animals there were amazing and at the switch of a button, some of them actually moved!
Bought some toys for the boys and my EO chose a lovely Mother's Day gift for me...a book titled "Mothers are Special." :D
The YO got his first big screen experience...a 3-D movie no less! About dinosaurs, called "T-Rex." He loved it!! The EO however whimpered a couple of times and clutched on to me during the entire movie. Yes, my karate champ is quite the little scardey-cat at the best of times...
And after all that excitement, we cooled off with a swim followed my some ice-cream and fresh lime sodas at the Saturday Club.

Yes, I had a GORGEOUS Mother's Day!!
How about you beautiful women?

A New Year Brings New Beginnings

It's the Bengali New Year.

I wish for you all bright new beginnings, beautiful continuations and successful conclusions. May your children be happy and healthy. May your loves be strong and true. May your lives be full of purpose and happiness. May our world be safe and secure.
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And speaking of new beginnings...tomorrow is the first day of the next twelve years of the EO's life.

Yes, the Big School's gates will open to welcome a new generation. I hope the school's ready, because I most certainly am not.

Good luck baby. Make them fall in love with you!

The Belan Brigade

When I first heard about the Mangalore pub incident, I was outraged. I wanted to pull someone's hair out, slap some perv faces and basically have the shit beaten out of the hoodlums. I'm sorry, but that is how I feel.

I get very militant when I hear about these kinds of injustices meted out...especially to the 'weaker sex'. I want to scream, lash out, morph into Jhansi ki Rani or Devi Chaudhrani and attack the scumbags.

When the Consortium of Pub-going, Loose and Forward Women first came into existence, I yelled out a 'Hallelujah!' and joined with great gusto. I am a proud sister and am glad I'm part of this motley crew of creative, intelligent women (and yes, some men too, I believe!)

Then, they came out with the brilliant Pink Chaddi Campaign. With a war cry, I signed up. I thought the campaign was cute, cheeky, creative and oh-so-unique. I still do. But, at the same time, and over the past 48-hours more than ever, I feel that it is not enough.

Mystic Margarita and Emancipation of Eve's JB have put into words, brilliantly, my other feelings about this campaign.

Like Mystic, I am wondering about whether these illiterate dolts will get the sarcasm and spirit of our message? Will they wither at our outrage? Will they change their worthless ways? And most importantly, will they care?

I'm afraid not. They have already started collecting saris as a counter-attack. They are using our underwear as fuel for thier hateful fire and ire and using it to show their supporters that we are the cause for the morality spiralling downwards in this country.

And I love the points JB has raised as well. We have to fight back. We can not let them squeeze our breasts and 'get off', all in the name of protecting 'our' culture. 'Our' culture talks of protecting women, their freedom, their dignity, their femininity. We can not let them tear at our clothes and maul us, saying that they are doing it for the good of Bharat Mata. It is a symbolic rape of the daughters of the very Mata you are trying to keep chaste.

On the day of the pub-bharo andolan, I think along with our pink chaddis and Scotch on the Rocks, we should turn ourselves into a 'Belan Brigade' and arm ourselves with belans. Symbolic weapons of protest and protection. You so much as point a finger in our direction, I will break said bloody finger, even the whole hand, in self-defence.

To all my sisters ready for battle in the upcoming pubcrawls, remember ours is an act of defiance. But these goons have already shown that they will not think even once before slapping a woman or pulling her by her hair. Protect yourself and others too.

I raise a toast to you, your bravery and your wicked sense of humour! I will be with you in spirit, hopefully in some bar/pub in Kolkata, drinking my share of the bubbly and saying a prayer for your safety and the success of the campaign. May it be peaceful, may it be overwhelming, may it be successful!

CHEERS!

M4 and the MIM...

...have successfully survived the seven-year itch!

Well husband, eight years, two brats and a gazillion fights later, here we...still together, still going strong, still making it and not faking it!

Happy anniversary, MIM!

*walks towards him, arms outstretched to envelop him in a bear hug, crooning "Looks like we made it!"*

I Wish...

...that all of you can experience the soul-touching pleasure of watching your two children lie on bed next to each other while the elder one 'reads' to the younger one and the younger one asks lots and lots of question which the elder one patiently answers.

Note to Self...

Today was a good day. I had fun. I was surrounded by certain 'lost friends', but I did not let their presence depress me, kill my self-esteem or exclude me from the conversation.

Today, I was not a wall-flower.

And that felt good.

I can do this.

I can talk. I can be interesting. I can hold my head up high. I can indeed not wallow in the quagmire of self-pity.

Even though a crow shat on me.

I just went to the bathroom, scrubbed the area with soap, gel and Dettol and came out smelling like a freshly-washed nappy. I smiled, made a joke about it, laughed and carried on having a good time.

I can do it. I can laugh at myself again.

I think I can find my voice again.

And now, to keep this positivity with me through the rest of the year.

Bring It On, 2009!

My last post for the year.

A recap would show that this year has had it's highs and lows. It started off on a very frightening note with the FIL being hospitalised for 40 days, 25 of those days hooked up to a ventilator. But he's home, better, fitter and more cautious.

I lost some friends, not physically, but metaphorically-speaking, and the thought of that still hurts like hell, especially since I still see them around.

But, on the up-side, this is the year that I started blogging in earnest, and the friends that I've made across the wires makes up ten-thousand-fold for the ones I've lost. Blogging has been such an enriching and rewarding experience for me, that its gifts never cease to amaze me. Each and every one of you have made me a part of your life, and even if I start rambling on and on you'll never fully understand just how much that means to me. I thank you all for letting me be privy to your worlds and for being a part of mine.

Professionally speaking, 2008 has been kind to me too. I got published in "Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul" (a dream come true) and I bagged a regular column in a newly-launched magazine (another dream job!) For this I thank my Muse and the Goddesses I pray to and whom I derive my strength and creativity from. Everything I do, I dedicate to You.

Unfortunately, the year ended on a bad note. First, I lost my Boro Jethu and as I type this, an amiable uncle-in-law is in the hospital.

And of course, 26/11 happened. The direct result of that is that I am a more terror-struck, cynical, hyper and shit-scared parent. I have not forgotten my pledge. As soon as school reopens, I promise to visit the EO's school to talk to the principal about introducing activities that will help inculcate nationalistic pride in tomorro's generation.

And thank you, to the Gods Above, for my charming EO and pixie YO. I owe You a debt of gratitude for letting them be mine.

So goodbye 2008. I will remember you, for reasons good and bad. You've been a memorable year.

And bring it on 2009! With all your blessings and memories-to-be, welcome!

I pray that the coming year is full of joy, good health, peace and magic for all of you! May the year ahead show us a way to make the world a safer, healthier and more hopeful place to live in.

God bless!

Christmas Eve and Day

This Christmas Eve was 'special' because I discovered two facets about myself...I am old and I feel cold.

Yes, me! Moi! The last person to bring out the sweaters and socks in college in Delhi! While the general Bong population on campus would be in monkey caps, the Southies in layers of sweaters and the other Northies in well-coordinated winter outfits, complete with jaunty berets, stylish scarves and mom-made mufflers, yours truly would be wandering around in a shawl. That's it. And it wasn't a show of bravado. It wasn't because I lapped up the awe and envy of my hostel-mates and class-mates (well, I did enjoy it, but that wasn't a reason! ;p) I have always revelled in cold weather. The nip in the air, the crispness of fall and the onset of winter...aaah! I always put it down to being a winter baby, born in New York in the month of January, with snow all around...And then there was the move to Bangalore, the original AC city! How could I not love and bloom in the cool and the cold?

And here we are in in Kolkata and my immuno-system seems to have gone bust! My very first winter here and I developed a pneumonic patch in my lungs! To add to all that, I discovered I was pregnant with the EO! So much for strong medications! And ever since then, at each and every 'change of season' or 'turn of the weather', there I'd be coughing my lungs out and sneezing my nose off. I still didn't 'feel' the cold, but the cold obviously found a good home in my bones and lungs. And that is why, I have to bundle myself up in woolens and invest in socks. The MIM, if he could, would get me and the boys into monkey caps, but so far I've been able to resist.

So this Christmas Eve, our gang of maddies and I, made our way to Tolly Club to bring in Christmas the way we knew best...by downing spirits to up our own and going berserk on the dance floor. The sight that assaulted our eyes was enough to send shivers up and down every bone in our body...well at least the female bodies. As far as the male bodies in our group were concerned, the sight warmed the cockles of their hearts. The skin show that was on view that night could have easily rivaled a day on the sunny, sandy beaches of Rio de Janerio! Hey, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against itsy-bitsy dresses...carried off well, they can look supremely sexy and sensuous. Of course seeing someone in one often gives rise to feelings of jealously, but I still say that I have nothing against a teeny-tiny dress. But on one of the most frrreeezzzing nights of the year? Brrrrr!! I am telling you, these dresses started barely two inches above the nipple and ended two inches below the butt! And here we were, dressed head-to-toe, mostly in a slimming black, and covered in velvets, silks and wollens.

And the figures! Reed thin, stilettoed and no stockings to boot! Weren't they defying the very laws of physics and biology? We were the well-insulated lot, naturally as well as artificially, but why were we shivering not just in our skin, but in our socks?

The average age of the HUGE crowd? Between 15 and 19, I kid you not. Just mere smatterings of 25-75 year-olds. So, now you can well understand why I also felt old :(

Well, we tried to come up with different theories to answer that question, but after quite a few rounds of brandy, whiskey and vodka. It didn't seem to matter so much any more. I never made it to the dance floor, on account of my shoe strap tearing, but I certainly rocked the chair that night with my groovy shoulder shakes, butt jiggles and hip(po) wobbles.

Yup, it turned out to be a Merry Christmas eve after all.

Then, after what seemed like only an eleven-second snooze, I was woken up by three very chirpy, bright-eyed, smiling faces. The EO, YO and Nephew were up and about and waiting for their Christmas presents. And Santa has been very, VERY generous this year. That's what happens when Daddy Clause decides to go shopping with Mommy Clause and goes three times over the budget! Men! I tell you!

We took the our sons and the MIM's cousin's kids to Saturday Club. We had invited these friends of ours to meet us there with their kids. There was Christmas Carnival there for the kids. The arrangements were the same as every year, but the kids had a blast and at the end of the day, and that's really all that matters to a parent!

So Christmas was indeed merry, despite my advancing years and my absolute intolerance to the Northern winds that blow.

How was yours?

Merry Christmas To One and All

In the true spirit of what this Holy Day stands for, and in light of the mountain of terror our country has been subjected to, I wish for you all, my friends from all over, peace, joy, love and above all, hope.

May these troubled times just be a bad reminder of 2008.

With love in our hearts to you and yours...
M4 and family