Yesterday was my B’Day! And the moment hubby wished me at midnight; I had fear building up inside me. Fear of the dreaded day, my B’day! This B’day I was to turn 33. But the fear had nothing to do with my age. I never feel bad or uncomfortable upon turning a year older. Everybody grows old right? So that is fine with me. Now you must be wondering why I was horrified.
Well, since I remember most of my B’days were marred by one bad thing or the other. Call it a jinx or whatever but something bad has to happen on my B’day. Not a super bad thing but on your special day a small bad thing is enough to spoil your mood.
Now I shall not give a detailed account of 33 years as to what happened and how each year was spoiled. But shall tell you only about last year’s B’day. Just to prove my point. Last year I lost my cell on my B’day. And that too early in the morning while going to work. So nobody could call me and wish me 
Even that was fine but my sister had serious doubts that I purposely threw it away to get a new cell from hubby. Now that was gross
Every year I plan to wear new attire on the special day. Only to be awaken by heavy showers and thunderstorm in the morning. Now you have to be really brave and rich to step out in new attire on such a day. So I take one last look at my new dress and keep it back safely. And finally I settle with the ‘Rainy dress’ (an old and faithful salwar kameej stitched with Garden material which remains intact for atleast 1000 years. Females of my age would probably know what I am talking)
But this year was an exception. Day started with my 2.5 years old daughter first singing “Happy B’day to u” and then asking if she can cut my B’day cake 
. Then in-spite of heavy rains I made up my mind and wore a new dress to work. And in midst of plenty of work managed to have a good time with my colleagues. Threw a treat to my department and everybody liked it. One more pleasant thing happened at work. On our B’days we all get a birth day card duly signed by MD and all other colleagues. However, this year there was a slight change in the policy. As per changed policy only those who are on the pay-role of main company were given cards and the less fortunate like me were left high and dry. Now this discrimination is kind of bad. At the end of the day everybody is contributing towards the company irrespective of the pay-role. My HOD was furious due to this stupid change. He personally went and fought with HR and came back victriously with my card tucked under his arm. He is a kind of person who would normally not get into all such trivial issues. So I felt nice and a bit honoured
When I left from work it was again raining heavily but I had already stopped worrying about spoiling my new dress and enjoyed the cool breeze and showers for a change. Before I reached home hubby called up and burst out laughing. It seemed that my mom had got a cake and my little one had already cut it and helped herself with one big piece. When I reached home she enthusiastically showed me the cut cake and assured me that she is guarding it from others
Soon hubby came all drenched and battered with an equally drenched and battered rose bouquet. He had taken a wrong bus so had to walk quite some distance. Felt really bad for him and I actually blushed while accepting the bouquet. After 5 years of marriage I thought I had forgotten to blush
Mom had cooked a wonderful dinner. And we all did full justice to it.
So this was my B’day. A grand one. A perfect one. The one I waited for 33 years
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Happy B’day to Me!
July 23rd, 2010Introspection
March 10th, 2010Early in the morning I was talking to my elder sister over a phone. Well, Correction! Early in the morning I was complaining to my elder sis over a phone. My jabber was all about my personal problems. I went on and on… And finally my ever-patient-willing-to-offer-a-shoulder-to-cry-upon sister gave up on me. She bluntly told me “Prutha. It’s time you change your ever complaining state of mind. For past 2 weeks all you have been talking about is this problem. The situation that you are in will not change overnight. So there is no point in being stuck in this mind frame. The sooner you accept this, the better for you. And rather than wasting your energy on crying and complaining, try to find a solution.” And she disconnected the call.
At first I was shattered. How could my sister just hang up on me!! And then the introspection began. Well. I was surely at fault. For past 2 months I have been feeling angry, agitated, hopeless and helpless. But these feelings could not change the situation that I am stuck in. Then what’s the point in being angry and all…. On the other hand if I take one day at a time and keep a calm head I would be able to handle it in a better manner. And who knows it might get even worse. If now only I start losing my mind, what on earth will help me if it gets messier?
So I thought, a better approach to this situation would be to try and be calm. It is ok to feel all worked up once a while. But boiling all the time is certainly bad.
From that day onwards I changed my outlook. I tried to be calm. I tried to be cheerful. It was no doubt difficult. But it did make me feel better. The situation does not look that hopeless now and there is a slight improvement.
A lesson learnt! No matter how daunting the problem may appear, sulking, crying won’t solve the problem, being in a positive frame of mind will!
The Train
January 15th, 2010She again looked at her watch. It must have been 10 th time in last 15 min. With every passing minute her anxiety was increasing. The loudspeaker on the platform came to life and the commuters were told that the train was to arrive shortly. She looked at the loudspeaker hung high and cursed. And then she suddenly noticed me staring at her. She smiled sheepishly. I nodded and smiled. “They are trying our patience. There has been no train for last 20 min…” She tried justifying her swearing. I again smiled and said “Yeah”. We both regularly commuted by the same train. Though we two never talked to each other, we always exchanged a smile. She had a group of friends waiting for her who boarded the train at the previous stations. So once inside she used to be busy talking with her 4/5 friends.
The train arrived and a large sea of people jumped on it. After pushing myself in the flow of commuters I got inside with all my body parts intact (though few were complaining of being rubbed the wrong way). The train started and I looked around. Even she had succeeded in getting in and had fished out her way to her group of friends. Her friends had already started talking to her. They informed her that there was some kind of accident and so the train had stopped in between 2 stations. “I am going to be royally late for my date. Akshay must be waiting for me at the multiplex. He normally takes the train previous to this one. Even I had planned to take that train but I missed it. The movie starts at 7.30 PM. It’s already 7.00 PM… I tried his cell but its out of coverage…” She told them. “We will surely miss the beginning of the movie.” She cribbed. “Why do people cross railway lines? They lose their life and mess ours too!!” She continued. “Oye don’t make a fool out of us! You want us to believe that you 2 are actually going to watch the movie?? We have passed through this phase sweetie. The about to get married couples don’t go to movie theaters to watch movies. Rather they give the onscreen couple run for their money by putting up a highly romantic scene” One of her friends winked and teased her. It made us all smile and the girl blush.
I moved towards the door as my station approached.
The next day she was not on the platform. ‘Must have gone early to make up for the time lost yesterday’ I thought and smiled. Train arrived and I got inside. Her group sat on its usual place. I settled a bit and looked at them. Something was odd. Normally they chitchatted continuously. But today they were all quiet. One of them happened to look my way. I smiled at her. She returned the smile. But it didn’t reflect in her eyes. They remained sad. Is it just my imagination? I wondered.
And then another commuter happened to talk to the group. “Where is Reena today? She seems to have missed the train.”
The group didn’t answer for a long time and exchanged looks amongst themselves.
Finally one of them answered. “No. Today she is not there. Yesterday she lost her fiancé….”
“What???” the one enquiring screamed. The whole compartment went silent.
“Yeah… It is so shocking and tragic. Yesterday he passed away in a train accident. He fell from the train. It was this same train that we were traveling in. Yesterday this train was late. Remember? It was him….”
Life is so brutal at times….
Where have all the dolls gone???
September 12th, 2009
I was out shopping for my little daughter. I was looking for a doll. Like all girls, as a child I loved playing with dolls. So I thought even my daughter should have a doll now since she is 1.5 years old.
I entered a toy shop and was delighted. I have to confess that I love this toy buying session. I feel like a little girl who wants to try all the toys in the shopJ. I told the shopkeeper that I want to buy a doll. He nodded and started taking out his dolls collection. I told him I want the plastic dolls. (the stuffed dolls look so artificial and my little one even gets scared by them)
Now there were atleast 10 dolls lined up on the counter. And the fellow was looking at me with anticipation. He thought may be I shall pick up a few and have a closer look. But there I was standing still and staring at the doll brigade. I didn?t feel like touching any of them. Something was strange indeed. But somehow I could not figure it out.
I once again looked at all the dolls and wondered what was wrong. They all were pretty, well dressed, smiling and ?
This was in sharp contrast with dolls I used to play with. As long as I remember, those days dolls resembled babies. They were all cute, cuddly replicas of babies. Little girls used to treat their dolls as their babies. We gave them bath , fed them, wrapped them in warm clothes and put them to sleep. Just like real babies. We used protect them from all the boys as they were notorious with their tactics of dismantling head, legs and all possible body parts.
As I was standing in the shop I remembered the doll I had. I had named her as Tinku. She had a woolen red frock and matching cap and shoes to go with. She looked so much like a real baby that all my friends liked her. She used to close her eyes when put horizontally. (Believe me that was a novelty 30 years back J)
With Tinku in my mind I once again looked at the dolls. They stared back. Those professional looking ?Plastic? dolls. With last hope I asked shopkeeper if he has anything else in dolls. He said ?No Madam. This is all I have. And rather this is all you will find anywhere.? I thanked him and left without buying any doll.
I just could not digest the idea of my daughter playing with those women like dolls. I winced when I imagined her bathing dolls body which looked so much like a woman in her blossom. It will take away all her innocence, I thought. Can it be one of the reasons for girls coming to puberty at an early age these days, I wondered. And if I don?t want my little one to play with those curvy dolls, from where will I get dolls like Tinku?
I came home and asked my mother if she remembered the big suitcase that she had kept on the loft. It had stuff like clothes & toys that were used by me and my elder sister. She nodded and smiled. ?Yes. I have kept the suitcase. Just can?t part with the stuff it contains. Those are the memories.? She said.
I hugged her and ran to get a ladder. She followed me asking what the matter is. I asked her to wait for sometime. I got the ladder and climbed inside the loft (we have a big loft J). I pulled out the suitecase and hurriedly opened it. I screamed with joy when I had a look at the stuff inside the suitcase. My dear Tinku was peacefully sleeping along with other stuff. I took her out and came down from the loft. I showed it to mom as if it was a winning trophy.
Tinku looked little worn out but still looked pretty cute. Her left eye was bit damaged thanks to my devilish cousin brother (While playing doctor he had put a pen through Tinku?s eye L)
I bathed Tinku, washed & ironed her clothes and then handed over her to my daughter. When she saw Tinku she was all amazed. She dropped the toy she was playing with and took Tinku from me. She had a closer look and smiled at me and said “babby!! I hugged her and said. Yes dear it’s a baby. Her name is Tinku!”
These days it is such a pleasure to watch my daughter playing with Tinku. I thank mom again and again for keeping Tinku safe for all these years.
After all they have stopped making Tinku now…
Blame Game
August 20th, 2009Today when I entered my office, it resembled a fish market. There was a lot of commotion. A group of 4/5 people had gathered around two senior managers who were fighting a verbal battle. Since one of them was my boss, I tiptoed to my cubicle. After I was safely hidden, I was all ears. With the on going appraisals, I thought may be in spur of the moment they will spill some info which was meant to be hidden from others. After overhearing for few moments I lost interest. It was just another blame game. And was all about how-I-am-not-responsible-for-this-stupid-mistake-but-somebody-else-is. When something goes wrong, we frantically try to shift the blame. I am not saying that everybody does this. But yes! many people do it. Be it some mess at home or work. This blame game is always on. Is the burden of responsibility so daunting that we try to pass it on to somebody else's shoulder? Or it's just that we don't want to look stupid by admitting that 'yes! It was my fault.' The other day my parents blamed me for breastfeeding my 1.5 old daughter. I was taken aback. Till then I thought I have been doing an angelic job by breastfeeding her. After all when it comes to breastfeeding all doctors agree in unison (which is a rare feature) that you can go on breastfeeding as long as you both (i.e the mother and the baby! no room for hubby here J) wish! But I guess all the doctors were wrong. My parents were furious. They informed me that now a days my 1.5 year old wants 'DuDu" even before her afternoon nap. Now with me at work, from where would she get 'DuDu'?? Then poor soul cries herself to sleep. She cries so hard that even neighbors can hear her. Just when I was trying to digest this, my neighbor joined in the discussion. She looked at my little one and started talking to her. She asked my baby 'Hadn't we decided to bit mommy today'. My baby smiled back. I just managed to murmur something like 'why mommy deserves it?" Before I could say anything more she shouted 'then what? First you set a bad habit of breastfeeding and then you run away to office?" I didn't know what to say. Everybody in the room was looking at me. As if I was deadly murderer. "It's your entire fault! You should have stopped breastfeeding long back. Now baby is hooked. She is so miserable without it." Mother barked at me. I preferred to keep quiet. I didn't utter a word for 2 reasons. First reason being, my baby is my responsibly so anything concerning her is entirely my responsibility. And secondly I was too numb to react. I thought Yes Milord, I am guilty! I am guilty because for past one and half years I have not slept continuously for more than 3 hours at a stretch so that my baby can continue to suckle on demand I am guilty because my baby never liked milk other than breastmilk so denied having other milk… I am guilty because she has not put on much weight after I resumed work… I am guilty because I was told that the best way to weaning is child-led-weaning. So I have been patiently waiting for my baby to show signs that she is ready to wean… It was easy to pass on the buck to somebody else but I kept quiet. As I was quiet all my accusers went silent. I looked at the jury and smiled. Only one person returned my smile and that was my baby. I hugged her and tickled her neck. She giggled and I joined her… Atleast now I was sure that I was not instilling a bad habit. After all I didn't show her how to play a blame game J
Lessons from the Past
August 14th, 2009My relationship with my mother so far has become my current cause of concern. Not that things are not fine between us. We do have our occasional arguments but nothing major.
However, there are certain things done by mom which I would avoid doing with my daughter. I am not saying that she was not a good mom. She was/is/will be the most caring mom. But then few memories still haunt me and make me sad. I call these memories as lessons from the past…
The other day my 1.5 years old daughter was throwing a tantrum. Otherwise I try to deal with all her tantrums with a calm head but this was thrown at a very bad time. That day I had woken up with a very bad headache. It was a Monday morning So I also had my Monday Blues. And add to it I had 2 back to back meetings to attend at work. In short I was ready to explode. So when my daughter started acting up I was tempted to smack her bottom and take out my frustration on her.
But then memories came rushing to me. I really don?t know how I have managed to remember this incident coz when it happened I must have been barely 3 years old. But even after so many years I remember it clearly.
It was a holiday and we had guests coming for lunch. Both my parents had got up early and were busy doing chores like cleaning, cooking & tiding up the house. Since my mother was working, everyday she could not clean the whole house. So that day there was a lot to do. And when they both were barely finished with everything, guests arrived. The Uncle settled in hall room and Aunty came to kitchen with my mom. After some initial talk Aunty declared that she had to go to the toilet. My mother asked my elder sister to show Aunty way to toilet.
Just when Aunty was gone my mom panicked and blurted out that she had forgotten to clean toilet and she hoped that atleast papa had remembered to clean it. She looked so worried that I wanted to help her. My little brain started looking for a solution and it soon came up with a bright idea.
Without telling anything to mom I ran to hall room where papa was chitchatting with Uncle and asked him in a very clear voice whether he had cleaned toilet in morning. He was speechless for some time. This made me repeat the question in an even louder voice. Finally he smiled and said “No beta I have not.”
“Oh! You should have Papa. Because even mom has not cleaned it and now Aunty has gone to toilet.” I cried.
With a sulking face I returned to kitchen and announced my piece of info to mom and oblivious to my sin I reached for my usual spot in kitchen, the corner of dining table and climbed on it. Aunty had still not returned from toilet. With clenched teeth mom asked me why I did what I did. I didn’t know what to say.
And then we heard Uncle laughing out loudly and saying, “Yeah yeah I can understand. With your wife working you have to do atleast some chores. Thankfully my wife is not working!” And some more laughter followed. With that mom turned to me. She was now fuming with rage. I was still sitting there munching on something. And all of a sudden she picked up a pretty warm vessel from kitchen platform and put it on my thigh. The vessel was not that hot so it didn’t burn me. I got a very mild ‘chatka’. But my eyes filled up with water. I didn’t understand what wrong I had done that mom wanted to burn me with hot vessel.
I don’t remember what I did after that or how mom behaved after that. She must have taken me in her arms but I have forgotten that part. The only memory left with me is so bitter that whenever I happen to stumble on it, I feel rush of the same emotions I felt way back.
Over the years I have learnt to see the humorous side of the whole incident. I have also reasoned it out by thinking abut my mother’s plight at that very moment. She must have looked so stupid in front of the guests for making her husband clean toilets. Those were the days when men took pride in not helping their wives with household work.
Inspite of all this reasoning, the initial emotion that rushes to me is of hurt and pain…
So when I was all set to smack my daughter’s bottom I remembered this incident and felt guilty for wanting to hit my baby.
After all I would never want to give her a memory like this one….
I have read this somewhere ‘Parents who hit their children are the one who have run out of ideas’
It’s so damn true. Isn’t it?
girl with curly hair
November 27th, 2008The day started with disturbing news… blasts…firing in Mumbai at various locations…men n women just like u n me getting killed… Inspite of all this I finally decided to go to work. It was pretty late… almost 12 pm… However I regretted my decision later…. Yes! I met a terrorist on my way… He was walking on the street along with a little girl… she was 2/3 years old… curly hair covered her face…. so couldn't see her face… she was holding his hand and walking… bare feet i.e. on the scorching street .. that man could have carried her in his arms… but still made her walk… The sight of that girl is engraved in my memory… She was walking fast to keep pace with the man and obviously because her feet were burning form the heat… Now I think I should have stopped my auto and given them lift and dropped them… I could have saved her from the plight of walking on the burning street… Tonight when I hold my baby in my arms I shall again think of her…. I shall feel guilty…. for rest of my life for not doing anything for that little girl…
