Happy 32nd Anniversary to us:-)

February 1980. That's when we met (I think:-p)
You came to meet my best friend. Destiny laughed. And you got stuck with me:-)
And then began-
A whirlwind romance, friendship, fun and heart-pounding excitement! The unique proposing- the kind only YOU could pull off:-? (That's another nightmare..errr..story, to be told another time) ..
The engagement --again the unique kind, where the army pundit made my phoophaji and you exchange rings:-)) And the journey began!

A fairytale journey of innumerable friends(both of us being the gregarious kinds), of starlit nights, bike rides, fighting & making up, dreams and nightmares, a thousand love-letters (ALL of which I have hidden away Mr. Tyagi- for blackmailing purposes!!)

The era of picnics with friends, sitting in abandoned boats on the Mulla-Mutha river in Pune, singing songs and playing romantic songs on the flute(AGAIN another nightmare story, to be told another time!) , the era of shy smiles and innocent courting, the era of demure damsels and dashing debonairs ..and DINOSAURS! Sigh! What an innocent, beautiful era it was!

It was the first time I had heard the surname “Tyagi”. The first time I acknowledged a town named Meerut was on the map. The first time I was in love. With a real person. A person who was all-of-my-dream-heroes rolled-into-one. (your choice of romantic songs left a LOT to be desired, but that's yet another story, to be told another time:-/)

And then my came October 1981. The 100 red roses you drove to Delhi to give me on my birthday- the last single birthday:-) And then came D-Day.

The kaleidoscope of  black & white photographs and Kodak colour memories spins through my mind. I think we made it good, didn't we? Learnt from each other, evolved, grew into our own personal spaces- all the while holding on to the gossamer soft yet toughened steel bond that has kept us together through ups & downs, thick & thins (And HOW!!), helped us navigate the various potholes life threw in our way..

Thank you for being my best friend, my staunchest support, the father of my children (conjecture? Sigh- No. They have way too many of your traits for me to romanticize that or throw it on your head!!)

Thank you for the space we built with carefully placed bricks, which we do not attempt to invade. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of “unconditional” love and respect, belonging and acceptance. And for turning the shy, soft-voiced, trembling heroine of yester-years into a ferocious fire-breathing dragon:-)) ….(I am sure our offspring & friends will vouch for that)
 To borrow some lines from yet another of my favourite songs-

Humraaz, humkhayaal toh thhe ,
Humnazar baney.
Tay hua zindagi ka safar..
Jab humsafar baney..

Happy Anniversary Pardner!

Kuldeep Sagar Sharma : 28 October 1936 - 30 June 2013.

For you, bhaisahab.

One is born and lives in the hope of becoming a memory- a good memory. Because to live in hearts we leave behind is not to die. Nobody is ever really lost to us if we hold their happy memories in our hearts and remember them. For that truly -is immortality.

Sharing stories of those we have lost, thinking of the good times, is what keeps us from ever losing them. Because although good times may come and good times may go- it is good memories that last forever.

It is very difficult and very painful for me to know I will not see you again. They were good years- the last seven years. The fun times we shared, the festivals and special occasions you were with us. The strange way we vibed , in spite of our age difference and our relationship.

Aap hamare samdhi thhe..dost thhe...aur hamesha hamaare dil main rahenge.

In the words of a famous song -

“Ke marr ke bhi kissi ko yaad aayenge, Kissi ke aansoon main muskuraayenge...Jeena issi ka naam hai....”

Here's to you, Kuldeep Sagar Sharma -the most positive, strong, happy man I have known. No Holi, no Diwali , no special occasion, no New Year eve...will ever be complete for me without you. Miss you.

RIP

Happy Mother's Day!

Mother. Mummy. Mom. Ma. Aaii. Amma.

The first word spoken by a baby. The easiest word to speak. Just close your mouth, and open it. And the word emerges straight from the soul.

There is a story I want to share before all else:

When God was creating mothers, He was into His sixth day of "overtime" when the angel appeared and said. "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And God said, "Have you read the specs on this order?" She has to be completely washable, but not plastic. Have 180 moveable parts...all replaceable. Run on black coffee/tea and leftovers. Have a lap that disappears when she stands up. A kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair. And six pairs of hands."

The angel shook her head slowly and said. "Six pairs of hands.... no way."

It's not the hands that are causing me problems," God remarked, "it's the three pairs of eyes that mothers have to have."

That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. God nodded.

One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, 'What are you kids doing in there?' when she already knows. Another here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know, and of course the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up and say. 'I understand and I love you' without so much as uttering a word."

“God," said the angel touching his sleeve gently, "Get some rest tomorrow...."

I can't," said God, "I'm so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick...can feed a family of six on one pound of hamburger...and can get a nine year old to stand under a shower."

The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," she sighed.

But tough!" said God excitedly. "You can imagine what this mother can do or endure."

Can it think?"

Not only can it think, but it can reason and compromise," said the Creator.

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek.

There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told You that You were trying to put too much into this model."

It's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear."

What's it for?"

It's for joy, sadness, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and pride."

You are a genius, " said the angel.

Somberly, God said, "I didn't put it there.”

There is a moral to the story. That the “standard model” is fully loaded with all specifications. Yes- There are the sub-standard models, I agree. They probably have their reasons.

Also- a woman does not have to bear a child to be a mother. A mother is borne every time we have a smile in our eyes and a lump in our throat when we watch an advertisement on TV with a baby in it. A mom appears inside a little girl when she cuddles her baby brother/sister. A mummy breathes inside any of us who pats an urchin child on its head, or covers a plastic doll with a piece of an old blanket in the freezing cold.

When I think about my mother, and myself..and so many of my friends who are mothers, each a little different, each with their own unique quirks and methods- I find there are a few things we all do/have done. It is our combined custom to kiss our children to sleep, and then do the following-

AFTER they were asleep:

1. Rummage in their drawers, shelves, schoolbags, cupboards- for as many articles as have wandered through the day and mysteriously either disappeared, or reappeared in other unfathomable places! (Aanchal- I remember how your uncorrected notebooks would vanish from your bag and Hey Presto! Appear behind the shoes in the shoe shelf!

Saahil- The numerous gifts from/to your assorted girlfriends, your test/exam

papers with 3/100 marks- the former I used to find in my rummaging efforts, and

file away in my mind. The latter are one of those inexplicable mysteries that

vanished forever into the depths of the black holes in the Milky Way, the

mysteries that the universe is so famous for!)

Shalu- the secret love-letters from your..ahh..admirers that you think I haven't

read)

BEFORE they fell asleep:

2. Rummage in their minds and put things straight for the next morning, repacking into their proper places, the troubles that had wandered into their hearts and souls.

In both of the above, there were new discoveries every day- some sweet, some not-so-sweet.

I remember doing this every so often. Had I remained awake when I was a child, I would have seen my mother doing the same (You, Vinnie Dev). All I remember is that whenever she held me close and spoke with me, heard the words I said and left unsaid, I slept peacefully. And when I awoke, all the naughtinesses and evil passions which would have shared the pillow with me, were all folded up small and placed at the bottom of my mind, and on the top, beautifully aired and scented, were spread pretty thoughts, many rainbows and colourful butterflies- all ready to fly into my new day.

I think I repeated that method with my children quite well:-)

They say, a child is born. Actually, a mother is born along with her child. Before I became a mom- I had never held a sleeping baby that much longer, just because I didn't want to put it down. I had never felt my heart shatter into a billion pieces when I saw the scraped knees and elbows of my children, or their broken hearts and dreams- and I couldn't put them back together again. I didn't know that something so small could leave the broken shards of pain inside of me, and hurt everytime they sprung out from my memory. I never knew I could love another being quite this much. I never knew I would so love being a Mom:-)

(This holds true much more for you both, my Terrible Twins- Saahil and Shalu)

Today, on Mother's Day – I want to say a heartfelt THANK YOU. To my mom. For being my mom.

To my children. For making me their mom.

And to every mother out there who loves her children with unconditional intensity, and trusts in them blindly, and never falters in her love for them.

Happy Mother's Day.

“Har pal khushi deti hai maa,

Apni zindagi se jeevan deti hai maa.

Upar wala kya hai, maa ke wajood ke aagey--

Upar waaley ko bhi to janam deti hai maa!”

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

Happy Holi:-)

So Holi is back in the air:-) In a way, it happens to be (much to the disgust of hubby and daughter) my favourite festival. I play it with abandon. The rowdier the better! The more pucca the colours, the more satisfying it is for me.The one festival that turns foes into friends and angels into demons ---
Demons, witches, wizards, trolls, vamps, villains are so much more wholesomely fun than insipid heroes, heroines, angels and fairies:-)

I love colours. For me, all of Life is a celebration of passionate colours. Passion for my work,for play, for friends, home, family, children, mom, music, dancing and speaking (NO rude comments required here, dear family). AND passion for striving to reach higher and higher echelons of excellence at being what my hubby politely calls a"control freak"! The list is endless. From the moment I open my eyes to the colours of sunshine streaming into my world, to the time when workday ends and the stars sprinkle handfuls of silver sparkle into the purple skies, my life seems to absorb colours of all hues and shades. Even the rhythmic rise and fall of words spoken with undulating modulation, the lyrics of a beautiful song, the plink of the notification from my mom, one of my children, friends or family- add shades of sparkling colours to the air of the moment.

So Holi had to be my favourite festival, right? And I know, it is for my son too:-))

A very happy Holi to all of you who live inside my world, those on the fringes, and those who would like to join me in my unceasing quest for more, more, many more colours:-)
 
Like the words of the famous song-

 "Just colour my world with sunshine every day,
Just colour my world with happiness all the way.
Just take the green from the grass, and the blue from the sky up above,
And if you colour my world, just paint in

with your love..."

Happy 26th Birthday to the "Baby Brat" of the family:-)

7th March 1987. The date is carved upon my soul. I can never forget a moment of that day. The hustle-bustle of moving to the maternity home. The relief at having reached the end of those nine months of waiting, dreaming, imagining-what you would look like. The intense waves of pain, and then that final onslaught of agony ripping my body apart- to hear the weak plaintive thin cry of our little son. I still remember you- a darkish, wrinkled little prune with a frown larger than your face:-)  

*picture attached *

 I want you to know, my baby- that from the moment I held you in my arms that day- I loved you from the depths of my soul. Whenever I held you close to my heart, rocking you to sleep- whenever I held your little hand in mine, telling you unending bedtime stories-I knew from within- that the beating of my heart, the blood flowing in my veins, the breath of life that was me- actually lay within YOU!

I watched you grow from a confused little dyslexic brat, into a naughty, creative, innovative sensitive, loving little boy. Then into a fine, upstanding, decent, intelligent, hard-working young man. I am so very proud when I see what you are today, my son.

I love you with every fibre of my being. Always did. Always will. But you will (unfortunately for you)..stay our BRAT.

Happy Birthday, my baby. Love you so very much. May every day ahead be filled with fun, friends, happiness, comforts, good health, success and lots and lots of love:-)

Mom.