Sing a Song of Me

Maybe I'll paint my nails today.

Or go to the salon for some pampering.

Maybe I'll wear a sari today,

with silver jewelry

and line my eyes

with kohl

and laughter.

Or maybe I'll just stay in my pj's

the whole day

with clouds of perfume

dancing above my head.

I'll probably buy some chocolate

just for me

and eat it up whole --

every last smudge of it

and that too

licking off the melty bits from the

shiny foil.

Maybe it'll be Lindt.

Or Guylian.

Whichever one it is,

I'll do it guilt-free.

Perhaps I'll let the whole day slide away,

softly,

seamlessly,

from one frame to the next,

minute by minute,

second by moment,

and I'll just let the ironed clothes be,

leave the books open,

and not care if the wet towel's on the bed.

Again.

As usual.

I won't care.

I won't.

I refuse to.

Maybe I'll write poetry today.

Or read some at least.

Buy a book.

Or three.

I'll stand in front of the mirror,

naked,

and accept myself

and my body.

My body,

with gravity-loving breasts,

dimpled cheeks

(of the derriere),

those blasted hate-handles

and that big mound

of quivering,

dancing,

jelly-like lard

and NOT

mourn the decade past,

when I was younger

and definitely beautiful,

but just didn't have the wisdom to see it,

own it

and know it to be true.

CSAAM 2012: The Forest of Dark

The Forest of Dark

In the forgotten space
of Child’s imagination
there exists a black spot –
the Land of Nightmares.
Here we find
the Forest of Dark.
Mouldy mushrooms
push their way through humus;
anorexic trees
stand naked
amongst rotten leaves,
reveling in their wicked,
wanton,
leaflessness.

Faceless ghosts
pop out from behind boulders
to grab at the dirty little girl,
shrieking with delight
at her shrieks of pain
and fear.

Suddenly,
the ghosts melt down
into the slime
and in a thunder cloud of fore bounding,
the devil arrives,
seated on a big,
black,
hard bed.

The devil is fat
and ugly
with yellow teeth
and giant hands.
The devil grins cruelly
and stretches forward
to pitchfork the little girl
on to the big,
black,
hard bed.

The devil starts laughing.
The little girl starts crying.

“Mummy!”

The little girl wakes up in her own bed,
in her own room,
in her own house.

Mummy’s not home.
She’s gone to work.
Daddy’s not home.
He’s gone to work.
The door slowly creeks open
And the baby-sitter stands there.
The devil leers
as he slowly comes towards the bed...

It's April -- CSAA Month

This is a serious post and so I am going to dive right into it without any preamble.

Remember this wonderful initiative started by some admirable bloggers last year, to raise awareness about a much prevalent yet swept-under-the-carpet societal disease? Yes, I'm talking about Child Sexual Abuse and April is the month that the blogospere is abuzz with raising awareness against this hush-hush topic.

Do you have a story to tell? Do you have any questions to ask? Do you have any tips to share?

You can do it here: csa.awareness,april@gmail.com.

And yes, you can do it anonymously.

But let's not keep quiet. Victims have suffered in silence for far too long, it's time to be heard.

Blog posts with the logo (you can copy the image above), link back to our blog, with the words “CSAAM April 2012” in the title

Twitter posts or links to @CSAawareness, tagged “#CSAAM”
FB notes linking to our Facebook page
Emails to csa.awareness.april@gmail.com
Or just simply show support by displaying the Picsquare badge on your site/page/profile

This year, we hope to increase our focus and reach with our new CSAAM App and our sensitisation workshops. You’ll find both in our blog come April 2012: http://csaawarenessmonth.com/

Two Many Sadnesses...

Yesterday was the YO's graduation from Sr Kg. GRADUATION. SR KG.

Excuse me while I fetch the smelling salts and tissue box...

It was as final as could be. My little boy has now officially finished pre-school and is ready to head into the big, bad and infinitely tougher world of an all-boy's high school.

Why wasn't I ready for this?!?

******************************************************

The Nephew and Niece moved to Bombay today. Permanently. BIL-ly Boy's set up shop over there and so it's a move we were all expecting sooner or later.

The Nephew is like my third son. At one point in time, before the YO was born and when my SIL taught in school, he was almost attached to my hip. I would do everything for him and the EO together. There was a time, when he would wake up in the mornings and come into bed with the MIM, EO and me...making his place between the EO and me.

The Niece and the YO are born seven days apart. Their closeness is unimaginable. Of course, the three boys engaged in heavy-duty male-bonding, while both the Nephew and the YO have a common passion for sports.

My boys are already moping. And me? Well, I'm just feeling a little bit empty inside...

My EO and Me...Same-Same

A couple of weeks ago, my EO came to me while I was on the comp (as usual...sigh!) and said to me, "Mamma, you and I are just the same. We both love to read, we both love salads, we both love acting, we both love music and singing... We are so same, naa?"

And like so many countless times before, he made me feel this extra-special kind of rush of love that only he is capable of making me feel. It makes me melt into the same pool of mommy-love that I had dissolved into the day he came into my world and changed it forever.

We had another incident soon after that, that brought out beautifully just how same-same we are and this happened right after his school closed post the unit tests. A friend had come over and all the boys in the house were playing, running amok, making noise and generally doing things that little boys do. Suddenly, the EO comes up to my room, all upset and ready to burst into tears. When I asked him what was wrong he said that the friend was fighting with him and etc. etc... I don't know why, but I didn't buy it...probably because of something he had shared with my mother and which she, in turn, had told me. He mentioned that he was feeling bad that Class 3 was over because they had had a lot of fun in class that year and he had enjoyed being in that class.

I asked the EO to lie down on my bed and he grabbed a pillow and started crying. I hugged him close, let him have his sob and asked him if he was feeling sad about not being in Class 3 anymore. He nodded. We talked about his class teacher who adored him, but thankfully didn't spoil him silly, giving him a dose whenever he needed it. We talked about his best friend in class who he'd grown really close to. We talked about all the fun things he had done. From his sobs and garbled words, I could make out that it was not being in this teacher's class anymore that was breaking him. I also told him that he could still see his teacher whenever he'd like, because he'd still be in the same school after all. I told him that his best friend would also still be there. I also reminded him that next year would have new surprises and fun moments in store, what with his brother joining the school :-)

My little boy's reaction brought back a long ago memory...

This happened when we were still living in New York. It was the last day of 3rd Grade. I remember sitting in the single seater at home, watching TV while DaddyDearest read the paper and MaaJanoni got dinner together. I suddenly started crying...I mean really, really crying my little heart out. I couldn't figure out why. Maa came running from the kitchen and the two of them tried to find out what was wrong when finally Maa hit the nail on the head -- I was crying for the teacher I was not going to see again.

Let me explain why she was so special...

That year, we came to India for a long holiday, while school in America was still on. Of course my parents took permission, but still, it was a really LONG time. By the time we got back, I remember hanging around in the school office for a while as they figured out what to do with me. The principal's secretary (I think) finally took me to another classroom (section), not my original one. I remember my teacher, Ms. Gordon, storming into that class, pulling me out and taking me to the principal's office where she fought to have me back in her class. From the little I over-heard as they debated and argued where to put me, I figured out that the school admin. had decided to shift me to a class full of 'weaker' students so that I could cope with everything that I'd missed and hopefully catch up by the end of the year. My teacher said that she was taking full responsibility for me and that she would make sure that I was on par with the rest of the class. Needless to say, she proved them right.

It's close to three decades since that incident and I still remember Ms. Gordon. I remember how she placed her faith in me and how she fought for me. She made me feel worthy and special and that why I will never forget Ms. Gordon of PS 33 Q, NY. Never.

And I hope my little boy never forgets a certain Ms. V.H. of SXCHS, his Class 3 teacher who made him feel so loved and special.

My EO and I really are very similar and I revel in shouting that from the roof-tops. We do have common interests and passions. We both love good food, and I mean the entire experience of it from the cooking to the smelling to the savouring of it. We both share an eclectic taste in music, running the entire gamut from ABBA to Rabindrasangeet to Rodrigo y Gabriele to Michael Jackson to Jashn-e-Bahara. Of course he likes him some Kolaveri and Chhamak Chhallo too...but then he shrugs his shoulders at my love for Genda Phool and Alanis Morissette. We love the stage and the mere thought of theatre has us salivating. We love reading and even have a common love there -- the Mahabharatha; I've read at least ten versions of it while the EO is already three down. He attacks my precious collection of Amar Chitra Katha with much gusto and I am always adding to the collection. He wants me to look up extra info on all his favourite entertainers (from writers to actors to WWE wrestlers to musicians) on Wikipedia -- this also happens to be a favourite past-time of mine! We can sit down with a book anytime and any where and we often do. We're both also very last-minute people and quite scatter-brained as well.

Then of course there's the sensitivity issue. We are both overly-sensitive and I hope in the long run this is something that he can work on. It killed me through my school and college years and it still does me in every now and again. I would be devastated to see him get taken advantage of.

And we both cried for our third grade teachers at the end of the year.

That's just one more thing that makes us same-same.

And I Was Worried Why...?

I finally managed to take the MIM shopping today, for pants at Shoppers Stop three days before the sale ended. Phew! Achievement and big pat on the back due!

We were hurrying back because I had to take the boys to a birthday party and I was already twenty minutes late. As the car negotiated traffic and red lights galore, I got a call on my mobile and saw my MIL's name flashing on the screen. When I picked up I heard the EO's voice say, "Mamma!" and I thought I was about to be reprimanded for not being there yet and immediately started to pacify him when he cut me short by informing me that the YO had a fever. Damn! I told him to change and get ready for the party and asked him to tell his brother to lie down.

I was home soon and immediately ran into the boys' room where the YO was lying down with tears in his eyes. He was upset -- of course. He wanted to go to the birthday party too -- of course. He wasn't too warm and the ayah told me that my SIL had already taken his temperature and given him a dose of Calpol. Since the party was just across the road I thought I'd take him for a short while and told my little boy to get ready. He was out of bed faster than you can say "Happy Birthday!"

While we were getting him ready, the ayah told me that when the YO was told that he may not be able to go to the party because of his fever, he went to the bathroom, splashed his forehead with water and then went to my MIL and said, "See Nammu, see? Feel me here (taking her hand and putting it on his forehead) itsh cold now. Fever has gone. I'm fine and can go to the budday pahty. Right naa?"

Sigh...

And I was worrying about how he'll make the transition next month from Pre-school to Big School, why?!?

It's March 1st, 2012

In other words, it's my baby's last month in pre-school. His LAST frikkin' MONTH!!

This realisation has hit me hard and it's one of the reason's I've been so quiet, to the point of being depressed. My baby has well and truly grown-up.

I know, I know...he's five-years-old and quite definitely shed the tags of 'baby' and 'toddler' quite some time back...but...but...but...sigh...

He's still my baby, dammit!

Yes, my little one has got admission into Big School -- the same one his brother and cousin are studying in. The fact that he's secured admission there is a huge relief, of course. The fact that he's old enough to go there is a huge big bubble of sorrow, threatening to burst at various points throughout the day.

When the EO started Big School, it did wound me, but not like this, because I knew that I still had the cuddlesome YO to baby. Plus, the EO did Big School in two steps, hopping from one to the other with consummate ease and what killed me was being forced to take him out of Big School 1 to put him into Big School 2.

But now, it's going to be one giant leap for my little son. From the loving, sheltered, protected environment of his Montessori to the big bad world of an all-boys, old school. From being one of twelve pampered and adored students, he'll be one of 44, jostling for attention or giving up in the process.

It's not going to be easy. I saw how hard it was for The Nephew who went from the same Montessori to this Big School. He was depressed for the first six months and would cry about it every morning. My SIL later confided to me how much it broke her heart. The EO, thanks to his two years in-between Montessori and present Big School, was already seasoned in matters pertaining to big classrooms, many boys and fewer teachers, and so it didn't take too long for him to settle down. So, I am already steeling myself for what's to come.

Of course, temperamentally, the EO and The Nephew are radically different. The Nephew is a shy, quiet introvert. The EO is gregarious, chatty and makes himself comfortable wherever he goes. Their personalities being such, I'm sure contributed to how they took to this most dramatic change in their young lives. In this regard, the YO is very similar to the EO and so I can only hope and pray that it will stand him in good stead when he takes that first step into the giant school yard.

Of course he's also stubborn and sensitive...

And what is he going to do in those horrid Bengali classes? How will he cope?

In fact, how will he cope with so many new subjects?

How will he react to the strict levels of discipline? No gems and smileys and stars for hard work here!

And his handwriting is just not up to speed!

And speaking of speed! God, for someone who's Speedy Gonzales on the field, it's amazing how tortoise-like he can be when it comes to getting his work done on time!

Sigh...at least he's got the EO to seek out for a hug during break time...

Not to mention the fact that he'll be joined by two of his friends from this playschool over at the Big School.

Ok...I need to stop hyper-ventilating!

But, the fact of the matter is, in one month's time, my baby starts Big School. This is his last month in playschool. In one month, I will be mamma to two big boys.

And while the YO says he's ready and excited about going to his brother's school...I'm not.

Not yet.

Don't know if I ever, really, truly will be.

*breathe, breathe, breathe*