I miss you Ma.

and I never told you this and I needn’t tell you this ever because you already know this.

She is a Super-Woman or an analogy closer home – The Durga Mata. I guess every mother is, mine isn’t any different.

And it hugely annoys me that she can’t leave that stupid home of hers and come live with me for an infinite time. That she is not here with me when I come back to home with a refreshing glass of Nimbo Pani/cold drink on hot days. Or listen to how my day had been. Or waiting to have a meal with all of us. That she isn’t here to mend my dress or fix my cold. Just like she was during my school days.

I left home when I was 17 or 18esh.. for further studies. Meh! And then I never went back. I completed my studies, met my husband, got married, visited home once or twice a year. And that’s how it has been since. 

So literally, I have been missing her since I was 17.

I tell my husband, I was just bored with living out of the hostel, being a paying-guest, being with room-mates, the nomadic life of living away from home, that I agreed to marry him. I needed a home of my own. If I had been living with my Ma, my story would probably have been different. His reply “kidnap kar leta tujhko 😉

That is utterly romantic ❤ . So I know I was destined to marry him, to have a life that I have now. I married the right guy.

But that doesn’t stop me from imagining.

I imagine a different course of my existence. One where I never left home, where am married closer home, where am with them for every festival, every small occasion, every birthday and anniversary. Where I don’t have to plan my vacation months in advance, book flight tickets. I imagine just booking a cab/ or driving to her home. I imagine picking up my bag and heading home, I imagine exchanging Meklahe Sadar with her, gossiping, cooking meals together.

None of which I can ever do in this lifetime.

All of which my sister is lucky to get with her. Damn!

Why don’t I?  I remember a conversation I had with Pa when he said, why can’t I do all that and more? Why can’t I just pick up my bag, book a flight and come home? Isn’t that the reason why I left home in the first place? So I could be independent and follow what I really desire.

Am blabbing. No one will probably get this. I don’t get this. Why can’t I do that? Why am I pissed on the days that remind me of her? (Am pretty sure this is as my sis is visiting her for a month long vacation and am sweating out here).

Everyone leaves home for a better life. I have a better life. Am not the first person to do so. I have no reason for not just booking up the flight and reaching Ma. I don’t know why can’t I manage that now?

Today is Mother’s day and am surrounded by the content this day has generated on every feed, every chat, every social media. Do we need a special day for Mother?

No, A Mother is special every-day.

Yes, because I never told her how awesome she has been, how much she had worked all her prime and how much she needs to think about herself now.

Even so, I don’t want her to think of herself. I want her to be my side. Living in the same city that I am. Not this far.

Now, We They have a wonderful house at Assam. It is my parent’s blood and sweat. Their dream home and they moved into that place after my father’s retirement, which was much later after my wedding.

I live so far from her, that I no more dump my sob story on her, I feel a bit protective of her. Shielding her from my downs. I guess living on my own since 17 has made me as independent as my parents wanted.

Now that am a mother, I know I will always be there for my son. I don’t believe in long distance love 😉 he will have a hard time moving away from my nest.

But then he is a boy. A girl pines for her parent and a boy, well just don’t care. Sorry Boys 😉  

I called Ma today and she was utterly busy with my sister and her twins. She was worried about my brother and she was going to cook dinner, fixing yard with Pa as a storm is approaching.

Day as usual for her.

Happy Mother’s Day Ma. I miss you.

Here is a Mother’s Day special from my 6-year-old boy. Aah.. he will never know the joy of leaving home. Literally 😉

Son: “Ma, What does comes first..the wedding or the kid?”

And my toughened Indian middle-class upbringing screams:
“Wedding son, definitely wedding! “

#HappyMothersDay

Advertisements

Am still his favourite, despite everything.

Am a strict mother these days. Most days, am not. Meeting the supply with the demand. My son has his first first-grade school assessment coming up next week tomorrow. Maths. English, English dictation and Environment Science. But he is not showing any interest in preparing himself to be assessed. I really envy mother who has THE kid, natural in studies. (Are you reading this neighbour?)

On most of the days, I have no patience with a first-grade kid. I do not sit with him for his school work. That is the only job for my better half. He is a master. I do feel, Husband is disposable when he is around the house.  But clearly, I need him when there is an assessment next week… Get your butt here soon!  Puff! But he isn’t here this week.

So there I was, on the last weekend. Sitting along with my son, with practice sheets and prayers to God “Please give me the strength to make it alive till the end of this hour these 10 minutes and not strangle him.” Every 10 minutes, I remind myself. He is my only son. Be a saint, DO NOT kill. 

He clearly wants to escape.  Actually me too. Both of us. But Life is cruel. Doesn’t give us what we want. I hope he understood that last weekend.

Do not judge me. Before you imagine me as a  fat-rat matron holding a stick, wearing a printed knee-length frock and thick-framed black spectacles conducting a reign of terror, try spending 10 minutes with a boy who is more interested in super-hero than vowels of English.

10 minutes. Only. With a six-year-old who imagines wand in a pencil, the erasure as a transformer disguised and living among us in plain sight, who have to pee because I asked him the spelling of piled.  What?! pencil is to write notes? I thought it is a magic wand with the black core from kryptonite!

Don’t blame him though.  English is a weird language.

For instance,  Why the hell Silent letter? Silent K in Knew.  And wait, this gets better on the Island. There! A letter, an alphabet sitting right there, not making any sound. Just being there. Silently. The same S when added to “ex” becomes one hot cake bun.  Or , Don’t get me even started about Queue. That is just one letter Q. What are the others doing there? Did the person doze off with one hand on u, other on e?

So now I have to know why K is silent in Knew but not Clock.

Me: “Listen to the sound Adi, K, clock ends with K.”

Son: But Mummy ..K is silent. 

Oh Boy! Not in every word honey. That will be like a totally deaf alphabet. No sound.

Imagine how many zillions of space, wordpress would have saved, if it weren’t for these notorious silent letters. They exist but only in bytes. Taking up space but producing no sound.

That was English. Maths seems like a good boy. I mean, the subject is all logical, Right? Wrong. What the hell number-names doing here….legacy of English gf?. I mean who writes forty, repeat. forty and not 40 these days?

Meh! On the cheque lady? Hmm. Okay. But still. All the number names, just teach so he can write me a thousand dollar cheque every month. I only need that much. Teach him that. Did you notice the silent “ue” in there, with that condescending mind..won’t make a noise, these aren’t worth our talk.

So that was my Sunday.

At the end of the day, It was time for bed. The teacher was out of my system and mother was in, the guilty mother who punished her child and raised voice a bit longer than desired. He was almost asleep. Eyes closed and heavy breathing.

I said ” Adi, Maine aaj aap pe bahut gussa hui na ? Was I too angry at you today?”

Barely had these words left me and could reach my son sleeping next, I heard him reply. Yes. I signed. This is gonna be tough. All I wanted to tell him how much I love him and how important is reading, writing and learning and other parenting stuff.. yada yada yada blablabla.

Me: “But, You know that I love you no bounds. Right?”

No answer.

Who is my favourite boy in the whole world?

He raised his head enough to show me his smile: Me!

Him again barely 2 secs later.Or may be less than a sec: And you are my favourite person Mummy!

❤  

My heart just melted. And I relaxed. probably the first time on that hard day.

The best part of being Ma is the love I get from my little man, No matter, how much I keep him away from his playtime and his super-hero, in the end, am forgiven and loved again. Any adult would have labelled me lunatic for life, but for my son, Am still his favourite ❤

 

 

 

I hate reading…

…..because life sucks when am NOT reading. Why can’t life be about reading, sleeping and occasionally eating?

Life, the sucker, has to happen exactly when I have a good book in hand, Exactly while the story is creating a world filled with moving images, characters, era, location, emotions and transporting me to a time where I cannot possibly ever reach without the words in the book.

When I remember the quotes from the book, or can almost smell the rain, barish, soil my feet walking down the muddy path, feel the sadness of the daughter waiting for her father, the pain of losing a dear friend, the happiness of finding love, the redemption,the world of witches and wizards and flying dinosaurs

At least life doesn’t suck when it is within words.

And so I do all that life expects from me, cooking, packing lunch, office -home, But I hate the author for engaging my mind.

The result? I read whenever I can.

On the toilet seat; when the pot is whistling on the stove; when am walking eight stairs down at the office; when am at the elevator; on the dinning.

THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS, is the first novel in my memory by an Indian author to won BOOKER PRIZE(1997). I remember when I heard this news, I was very proud. I didn’t forget the name ever Arundhati Roy and the title. But I wasn’t a collector then. I couldn’t afford to buy it. It was too expensive for someone who just started reading novels outside academic. I was very sure, one day I will read it.

20 years later ( See, why I complain about life?), it took me 20 years to buy this book.

I was at the mall last weekend, waiting for father-son to join me when I wandered into a Bookstore and found this. 20th ANNIVERSARY EDITION.

20180702_094721

And of course, I bought it. Without thinking that probably it will be cheaper to order online. Am on page 43 and I know why this is a winner Book. I have already been to Kerala(where the story is set) and back several times. Am a Christian now. The book is a poetic novel.

“Things can change in a day.”

“Chacko was Mammachi’s only son. Her own grief grieved her. His devasted her.”

Good authors are like pied-piper of Hamelin. The readers will merrily follow them into the world that really doesn’t exist; to doom or rejoice. The beauty of this world is that there is only one story and as many dimensions as there are readers. Each reader follow the pied-piper but see, feel, smell and sign in his world! For me, some days the story comes alive at the night in the softness of light from the table-lamp, after the father-son have gone to sleep. This is the time when the world outside my window is still and dark. But the words in the book are thumping for my attention to be read more. I stop reading and soak in the story. Estha and Rahel (Twins from God of Small Things)  forms a bond that I wish to share with my unreal twin brother 🙂

Then there are non-readers like my husband, who never failed to ask me when he sees me with a book in hand.

Am gonna ask you a question from that book now! Ready for the exam?” ” Does it have pictures?! What no photo..must be a very bore book”  “Abhi tak pass nahi hui, kitna padege?

I hate reading because I miss it so much when am not!

If only I had a job that gives me money while I spend time reading a novel from my favorite genre.

 

I have analyzed this life situation very carefully, There is perhaps a parallel universe where I can read all I want, but it doesn’t sound like a good ending.

Somewhere Am a librarian but it is too silent for a Libran social butterfly like me.

Or working at a bookstore- that will be then even more pathetic, surrounded by this sea of novels of all genre by all authors great, small, big and all I can do is arrange shelf, help the kid find coloring book! I wouldn’t survive a day.

Or working at a publisher – Naah, I wanna read a book that I like, not the one I publish. Not anyone bossing me to read this when I wanna read that.

So in this universe, I have settled for reading on the toilet seat.

I do have the plan to open my own Reading Cafe one day. Walls filled with books. From all genre. By all authors. A chalkboard-painted wall to write your favorite quote, to paint the world from novel just finished. The cafe will have all sort of sitting arrangement, from hammock to bean-bag, to give you a cocoon to just read and drink coffee. Where one could come out and quote favorite line or read fav passage and not feel out of life.

I will serve coffee and wait for monsoons. Authors will be the celebrity. Air will be filled with quotes from books and stories will come alive. There will be talks, discussions and book club meetings. Each will have own world to immerse in from any genre or be at any place the author takes them to.

One room definitely will be for people reading the last leg of the novel. DO NOT DISTURB ME when I need to know the end.

Life finally will stop sucking.

Don’t we all miss Home?

Last December, I was home. Am now approx 3000 Kilometers away from home. Too far to be away from home, for anyone, Isn’t it?

My home is Assam and is part of North East India. It is one of the seven sisters and is a beautiful place.

It is my cynefin. Being there, I feel, am exactly where I need to be, among people and nature I wish to be always. Just bring in my husband and son here and the scene will be complete.

01ca438e17af79877de4dd517ecfef70

My father, after retirement settled at his native, an indistinguishable small village, fulguri, 17 kilometers from Guwahati airport. Guwahati is the biggest city in North-east and is the pseudo- capital of Assam.

I have memories of spending my school vacation there.At least those were a month long. Ever since life caught up, I could only visit for two weeks in a year. I remember looking forward to my visit every year during school days and I was so determined that I will be more frequent when I will have my own money and time.

Hmm, Don’t I have enough money and time now?

Honestly, It is sort of unreal. My longing for this place. What possibly could be the reason for loving this place so much? I have actually never lived there, at least for any time longer than a month. I have no real friends there. No childhood chadi-badi. I cannot speak the language correctly. Am no expert in its cuisine or culture. Assam and I have nothing in common! I shouldn’t fall for it..fulguri ! Sign!

But, it feels like a big part of my heart is left there, the part refuses to come with me, miles away, where am settled with my husband and son.

Perhaps it is the people – my parent, sibling, all my cousins, relatives, uncle, aunt, niece-nephews whom I probably won’t recognize anymore.

Or perhaps it is the place- the air, the language, the culture, the cuisine, the lahe-lahe attitude, the laughter, the curated smiles, the music, the raw, the freshness, the incessant pour, the early sunset/sunrise, the terrible heat of hot summer, the bonfire in chilly winter, the warmth of winter sun, the orient eyes, the shiny hair, the makela-sadar- dress, the fashion, the nail-art , the dekhi-local grinder, the mighty river, the hills, the green, the tea-garden, the mountains.Everything.

May be it is my mother’s kitchen garden or the pukhuri.

Enough of sob story.

So, As I was saying, I was home at the end of Dec, last year. Most of the time was spent in visiting new places and meeting relatives. I was hardly home. But one day was special, between all busy schedule and slipping vacation, the day I remember the most was when my husband decided to try fishing in our pukhuri. Pukhuri is a small pond next to my father’s house. Where my mother dumps all left-over food for the fishes. It isn’t too romantic or clean. It is actually muddy water.

I forgot, how relaxing this corner of my home is.

Some of the pictures from that day below.

20171230_104101_HDR.jpg
Early morning, I spotted my hero 🙂 when I was looking for the warmth of winter sun after a hot-water bath , almost ready for my winter-sun-nap !.
20171231_075229.jpg
The morning tea-cup . This was surely an indication of a relaxing day ahead. Pls spot my mother’s kitchen garden, beyond which is the pukhuri..

And there was my little pumpkin. Trying to see how good fisherman his father is.20171230_104133.jpg

20171230_110155.jpg
I just settled my butt at one place and then I looked up.
20171230_110641.jpg
He was in for a long haul 😉 trying to find perfect location where fishes will fall for this bait.
20171230_122715.jpg
The expert joined us , immeditely at work..

20171230_122723.jpg

20171230_123753.jpg

20171230_124504.jpg
He did manage to catch one fish. And many more.

Moral of the story.

I miss my home. I miss pukhuri . So am gonna build one, right next to the swimming pool in my apartment. Throw in some fishes, get a fishing net and settle my butt right there…some 3000 miles away from where it wants to be.

Aha..By the way, Today is my Ma’s birthday 🎂..Happy Birthday Ma. I terribly miss you.

Cake or Roti, A Valentine must have.

14th Feb was Valentine day. It is a silly day to celebrate love. Love should be celebrated every day. Not just one day. And with that one line, I sound bored.I know.

Anyhow.

We sort of did. Yay ! The basic minimum. He got me a wonderful cake. He always gets me a cake. That is the least, I know his lazy bones does permit.

A cake on 14th Feb 2006:

Me: Oh Sweetie, I love you ❤

A cake on 14th Feb 2017

Me: Holly-Molly, there sits a kilo weight gain. Why couldn’t it be valentine sandwich?? What is wrong in that thought??!

On second thought- I think it is better Valentine is celebrated only once a year.

Nevermind the weight-gain. I had a bite, then another one, few more and few more and then stopped ..only to begin again. Look at the cake .. How can anyone stop after a bite, you must be very very cruel to not go for the second spoon of THAT?

whatsapp-image-red

Anyhow, moving ahead.

For the curious minds, the next question might be..”What did you do, ha? yeah, for him, on valentine? What did you get him?

I made a chapati, aka India bread. It came out pretty well. Can you see the shape? Cool,Eh 😀

heart

For those of you, who couldn’t figure out what is pretty cool about that bread is.I will spell it out for you. It is a heart. A perfect  heart.

Aha!Got it ? Eureka!

Shush, Now, listen, you observant folks. Very important. “Do not tell anyone that I cannot make perfect round roti aka Indian bread.” Do. Not. Nope. Zip your lips, sealed forever. Cross your heart and hope to die.

Especially, don’t go tell my husband it-wasn’t-intented-to-be-heart-shaped because what really matters is the shape at the end. And what is it? A heart.

So, Now folks, What do you think, which one is a better valentine must-have? (Hint: new age romance)

A heart shaped cake ( Naaah ..that is so 1947! Everyone does that since the big bang, cake, chocolate, flowers!)

OR

A heart shaped roti (Now, that’s what I will call a symbol of love.. pure love and affection, very uncommon, very creative, very new age romance, every piece is unique!)

Gosh, Am so romantic. My husband must be feeling lucky. 

And not hungry anymore. 

My future is bright..

Starting mid of next week, I will be away for 2 whole weeks,  with NO access to phone or internet 😦   BUT plenty of access to fresh fish and food cooked by my mother 🙂

 

PS: My future is bright , starting mid of next week ..As of today, I still have to deal with dreadful monday.

PPS: Away for two whole weeks .. means 2 WHOLE weeks,including weekends , dreadful monday , yay-am-half-way-through-week wednesday , and wonderful friday ..all without office , no get-ready-for-school-issues ,no get-grocery …

PPPS: The aim is to make readers envious.. Are you ? Oh wow , sounds wonderful , am so envious. No .. not yet ?  See this and wait till I post my agenda for those 2 weeks.. Hint : Includes a hell lot of fish of all sizes and lots of sleeping and a house beside a pond and birds,trees and doing NOTHING.

he he he evil laugh.