Cascading Coincidences

10 February 2007. I  think it was. The wedding of our first born.
Aanchal Tyagi weds Gourav Sharma .
And the heavens showered their blessings. In tubfulls.
Accompanied by drums and bongos. Read thunder.
And scintillating lights. Read lightening.

The first and last 10th of February that it rained.
The pristine gold and cream gazebos crumpled and leaked, the food became flush with curry. The tremendous army brass band packed up and left after attempting to stand their ground under billions of tonnes of water cascading on their heads.

The mandap had to be shifted to the 1st floor to prevent the dulha - dulhan from drowning. There too, right atop the mandap, a lintel on the roof opened up and the pheras were held under umbrellas inside the house.

The guests to the reception at the race club got blown to neighbouring rooftops, and had to be rescued from the chimneys they were clinging on to. Our sarees were around our ears. So we couldn't see them.

You will all understand why the day and date is a cloudy dim bedraggled memory.

Cut to 9 years later.

4 May 2016. The awesomely blessed couple went to get their marriage registered in Delhi. As they held the marriage certificate, and solemnized their liason.. There was thunder, lightening, and raindrops in surround sound there. And here.

Today 4th May 2018 happens to be the 3rd Anniversary of Registered marriage day.
There is thunder rolling in the dark skies and bushels of fat raindrops coming down ❤️

Blessings upon you, my children ☺
Happy Formal Wedding Day.

#StormAhoy
#RaindropsBouncingInCelebration
#HailstonesWaitingTheirTurnUpAbove

Happy Dussehra:-)

All those decades ago, on a pleasant October evening, as dusk fell and the effigy of Ravana exploded into a million sparkles illuminating the heavens - a mom-to-be heard the Firecrackers from inside the operation theatre of the Military Hospital, Dehradun, as the anaesthesia took over her senses.

Vinnie Dev. My mom.

And Ravana was born in female avatar. With all his glory, all his wisdom and all the super duper intelligence, incorporated into one tiny dusky bundle of joy 

The apple of my parents eyes, with the tag of Ravana etched into my omnipotent being, I've spent my lifetime bathed in their love and pride.
And been wished Happy Birthday every Dussehra by my lovingly rude and rudely loving family.

In retrospect, flicking through the pages of the chapters of my life, I've realized just how much similarity we have - the powerful King of Lanka. And the demure Queen of all I survey 

Hence, forgive me for I see the Demon King with a kindly eye. Seeing his strengths, his wisdom, his intelligence, his will power and indeed his self confidence.

OK so he fell in love with someone else's wife. Big deal!!

So, when you blow up the poor demon King this evening, spare a thought for what you destroy.

Destroy hatred, expunge divisiveness, throw out bad feeling from your souls and embrace all of humanity without bias.

Happy Dussehra to the world.
And Happy Birthday to Me 

Be the Change you Wish to See

"Be the change you wish to see."
-Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

As the Earth cascades along its path on its journey around the sun- summer, fall, winter, spring jostle along merrily... And the wheels of Time keep turning.

And the years fly by. Civilizations, peoples, equations, eras creak and groan, and transform themselves into new avatars. And Life goes on.

Change, they say, is the only constant of life. Always evolving, ever creating,change is a veritable Pandora's box full of goodies and baddies.

As the world moves along, change leaves behind in its wake, most of what was the previous generations truth. And searches for different, contemporary truths. 

Somewhere along the way, humanity seems to lose it's touch with humanism. 

People rush here, rush there.. Snatching, grabbing at every luxury in their view. Forgetting whatever values they learnt as they grew and entered this new Dawn. And greed consumes all. 

It seems sometimes, that humanity as we knew it, has slipped backwards, as the world moves forwards. There is no time to "Stand and stare". Nor to look at the nodding Daffodils. Least of all to reach out to help up another in need. Nor make space for the pathos of another's pain to seep into one's soul. 

And it's not only the new generation. People of my age, my parents age - have become grasping and selfish, greedy and hard. 

And yet everyone speaks of a dream world where there is change. Change for the better. Where people are undivided. Where there is love. And compassion. And peace. And, the elusive Progress. 

I say to them- Be the change you wish to see. 

And see your dream come true. 

It's Yesterday Once More

Playing golf last evening, the skies grew dark and menacing, restless winds began to blow, thunder grumbled angrily in the clouds.. and then, suddenly, the deluge started. Awe-inspiring, up here among the mountains.
Managing to reach the cottage, we dashed down the long track from the parking, soaked and cold. To find there was no electricity. Located some candles and a matchbox and lit a few. The sounds of rain pattering on the roof, rolling thunder, flashes of lightening were all we had for company. The cottage stands isolated as none of the occupants of the few cottages around live here.
All three of the mobiles had no charge, so they had to be switched off. The portable battery had a hint of life, so one phone was connected and kept on.
Such a strange feeling. Dinner and drinks in flickering candlelight.
Jaise ki poori kaayanath main bilkul akele. Frightening. And unique. Two cyber freaks, with their wings chopped And nothing to do. Flickering shadows dancing on the walls , scaring the wits out of me.
So we talked. And talked. And laughter filled the empty blimps between the rain filled ions of the atmosphere. A journey of rediscovery. Of realizing what great pals we have always been. Rajiv and I. Opposites on so many fronts. Identical in so many others. Drifted to different dimensions over the years, locked securely in our personal bubbles.
Awoke a while ago and looked out of the windows. To see this miracle of nature. The suspended raindrops in the air. The clouds descended to meet the earth.
A trip so worth it
Am so happy I took this sudden decision to just get out of the routine, tiring work schedules, irritations and stresses..Convince my chauffeur to leave his work too, And drive up here.
Loved these couple of days. Great place, great weather, great food, great experience and... Great company :-)

It's Yesterday Once More..

Sudden squall. Rolling thunder in dark restless skies. Lashing rain and occasional hailstones rattling on the windowpanes and sunshades since early morn.

The ions of the atmosphere rattling the ions of my being.

Snapshots of the years gone by filling the spaces between the ions , a tumultuous onslaught of memories long forgotten.

8th March. International Women's Day. Spent the morning in bed, with hot cups of tea, Facebooking, blogging posts about my idea of a complete woman. And then began the memories! 

Cut to childhood.. A Shadowy mom. Here, there, everywhere. Through diving in the middle of dark nights, on the call of sirens , into makeshift trenches dug behind tall hedges in our garden. In mom's arms. Safe. 
 Indo-China then Indo-Pak Wars. Dad not seen. We are told he is at the 'Front". Battling the shelling and firing. Mom awake through the night. Listening to live coverage on radio. I distinctly remember the term "Sialcot Sector". Visions of soldiers on hospital beds, in corridors of the Military Hospital. .injured, bleeding, whimpering in agony. But I am strangely unafraid. My hand is clasped tightly in my mother's hand. I know that she is there. As our strength. And that she will never allow anything bad to happen to papa or us.

My grandfather on a bus from Dehradun. On his way to Moga for some paper work. Forgotten papers at home. 
Memory: Mom on a Lambretta scooter with maasi riding pillion and me standing in front. An exciting drive with my ponytails flying in the breeze all the way down the hairpin bends and curves of Mohand. Until we flag down a bus. Hand over the papers to my nana. And stop for a picnic on the way back home.

Memory: A small sister. And I have high fever. Dad missing again. Posted to a field area. Time -probably beyond midnight. Mom desperate. Loads me and baby sister on a motorbike (I think) and gets us to the hospital. Memories on being inserted into an ice water tub to lower the fever (that's how primitive the times were!)

Memory: A sudden visitor at Jhansi. Dad at war. Dusk falling. Mom borrows a cycle, puts sis in basket and me hanging precariously on seat at back. Cycle to local market to buy gifts for the visitor's children. 

Mom. Vinnie Dev. A strong lady. With oodles of courage and determination. Taught me those, and decorum. And to be a lady. And to rule. And to love. And compassion. And to always always lend a helping hand to everyone who needed one. And charity.

Isn't this what Women's Day should celebrate?

People later in my life, after marriage- telling me "Ye ladkiyon ka kaam nahin hota. Ye ladkiyaan nahin kartein" ..To assorted acts like all-my-mom-used-to-do and polishing-washing cars, bikes, etc. I remember my disbelief at the thought!!
Memory:  My cousin brother Sateesh Dev. Stayed with us at Bombay. used to be working at Mazagon Docks as a marine architect. Design ships. Made him oh-so interesting to my girl friends:-) He bought a motorbike. Would make me polish it down to every spoke in the wheels for extra pocket money / a secret ride with a boyfriend down Marine Drive while he walked our dog incessantly so my dad wouldn't know.

My sis and I were always encouraged to take part in the running of the home. Be tough and independent. Learn to fend for ourselves. I remember my mom handing me all of dad's salary one month while we were posted at Srinagar, Kashmir , to run the house as she did-- because I once questioned her as to how "so much money" got finished !And her amusement at "all that money" being over and done with on the 10th of the month:-)

Being a woman has so many facets. Far more than being a man. Fighting conformism to begin with. Fighting to stay ahead. Making a place within family. Leading, not following. Bringing up children to be the same. 

I owe so much to my parents. To my dad's unending pride in me. More to my mom. A whole lot to my husband, Rajiv. 

And it's yesterday Once More. Strengthening all my tomorrows. 

I can say today- with pride and with my head held high. 
Happy Women's day to Me. 
Happy Women's day to my mother. 
Happy Women's day to my daughters Aanchal and Shalu. 


And Happy Women's Day to every woman who stands tall. 
And to every man who is proud of such women. You- Rajiv Tyagi. My son - Saahil. And you- Gourav Sharma. 

To Us Women--

Been ages since I wrote here. Facebook and twitter seem to suffice as my sounding boards for angish, delight, excitement, sharing, caring..whatever!
Just realized, blogging is as much if not more satisfying a domain.

So- here goes! What better day than today- 8th of march - International Women's day:-)

It's not enough to build oneself into a paragon of strength and confidence. To become one with the times one is alive in. To carry the great things of the past with us. To hold technology, science and contemporary ideologies in our hands. To mould ourselves to fit into the future.

As women and equal part of the human race, we need to empower our elders, parents, grandparents, etc.. To do the same. And bring up our daughters to become independent, strong, go-getters and break the mould of the sweet helpless goody goody conformist cow.
Am proud of you mom.. Vinnie Dev. And of you both, my daughters..Aanchal... For pushing mom and me to become masters of all we survey, and you Shalu.. For evolving us, and yourself to take on the world.

Mom, I always saw you as the strength in our family. Riding bikes, jeeps, mobikes.. Driving us to school, hospital, holiday destinations..
So I became the same.. "Driving" my family with an iron hand in a velvet glove *since other vehicles always remained beyond my skills *..
And making responsible aware informed intelligent strong adults out of you three children.
Ladies.. It matter not what your social status, or lot may be. Whether you are a working woman or not. It matters that you evolve. Move ahead with the times. Stop playing helpless victim. Believe me.. There are a whole lot of great games to play out there. Go for it.

Rise above cribbing, crying, clinging.. And let today be the first day of the rest of your lives 

....................

To the woman who can face the sun and have people walk in her shadow.
To the woman who never needs to apologize for being a woman.
To the woman who can handle a broom nonchalantly, clear the cobwebs of her life herself, and retain the capability to fly off on it when the need arises.
To the woman with a sense of humour, and no chip on her shoulders.
To the woman who nurtures softness, toughness, compassion and love and allows it to grow within. 
To the woman who is the pillar of strength for family, friends and strangers.
To the woman who walks tall.
To the woman who holds the radiance of sunshine within her.
And lastly - To the woman who sees, thinks, feels, involves herself in issues beyond hearth and home, cares equally for peoples, nations, humanity.
To the Complete woman.

Happy Women's Day!
8th March. And 364 days ahead.

Kuch dil ne kaha.. Kuch bhi nahin

Happy Celebration of the Colours of Life!

Holi - The Festival of Colours. The colours of the universe.

The azure skies, the blue oceans, the green earth, the reds-pinks-violets-oranges of flowers, fruits, vegetables..the glorious yellow sunshine... . And the purple yonder.

Also the Colours of Life. Happiness, smiles, friendship, kindness, charity, excitement, hope and most importantly - Love.

Gulaal is just a reflection of all-of-the-above.

So why not celebrate the festival in its rich entirety? Don't hide indoors and mock the celebration of living. Come out. And fling that gulal. Aim that water balloon. Fire that water cannon. And take back what you give. Colours, gulal, water, friendship and love 

HAPPY HOLI!!!!

For oft in contemplative thought...

Rain. The sound of the word rolls itself around your tongue with liquid magic. Baarish.. The swishing winds taking the excited raindrops on a rollercoaster ride... Incidentally.. The first word Aanchal ever spoke after beatifically beaming at the world for 14 months..

There is something so very magical in just the idea of rain.. The freshness of water, the shades of green, the song of crickets, the croaking frogs.. Cleansing the earth, sweeping the skies...the promise of rainbows in distant horizons.

I love rain. I have always, since I was a little girl, lying awake wrapped in a blanket, inside a mosquito net in the sprawling lawns of ancient cantonment bungalows..Feeling the first few drops of rain splash through the canopy of the net and sprinkle all over my face..Remember, Vinnie Dev?

School. Splashing through puddles, turning my face towards the stinging rain, tasting the droplets as they fell..

College. Bunking classes and Walking with friends to the corner teashop.. Sumedha Sahni?

Long drives on the motorbike with face tucked into the back of Rajiv Tyagis collar... Hundreds of hot finger chips eaten guiltily.. Sitting on the floor, leaning on the granite pillar in the front verandah, watching the pouring rain with Sangeeta Tyagi.

I still love rain. Maybe only Saahil will understand. How the very ions of elemental nature sometimes conspire to collide with the ions of our bodies our minds.. And somehow form a connect, a bridge as it were.. Transcending life as we know it...

Restlessness. The Restlessness of the clouds, the blowing winds.. Carrying the raindrops up and down a rollercoaster.. Transferring the restlessness into creatures part of the universe. Cawing crows, jumpy birds.. And me.

Doormats or Goddesses??

8th March- International Women's Day, as decreed by the powers-that-be. Great. It's nice to know we have a special day in the year allotted to us. Thank you. We are indeed honored. The other days , numbering 365 1/4 per year ..from the day we were born, made a cheerful loving, caring happy home for you..to the day we got married..and ditto for the other you..to when we carried the yet-another-you around inside of us till you made an official entry into this world..those were just random days, weren't they??

We don't hear of an International Men's Day..do we, Ladies? is that because they aren't important enough to have a special day allotted to them? Or too important so all 365 1/4 days are theirs??

So, basically- this could be another attempt to guarantee us our "special" status? The "weaker section of society", the "under-privileged", the "vulnerable" kinds??

Thank you. But, NO Thank you! It's definitely time to take that giant leap into the present and our collective future. To become the kind of person- nee woman- who when our feet first hit the floor when we get out of bed every morning, makes the devil say "Oh Crap! She's up!!!" Time to stop extolling our "weak" status. Be strong. Strong women don't ever ever play victim. They never whine, look pitiful, or point fingers at men for their plight. They wipe their tears, stand up and they deal! Nobody can make us feel inferior without our consent. So next time you have a weak moment- just get up, pour yourself a drink, put on lipstick and pull yourself together!

Remember - Us women come in two models only - Doormats and Goddesses. the rest of the criteria - Size, shape, colour, height, weight, etc etc etc are just inconsequential data.

So, here's to "strong" women- the Goddess category.. May we BE them, may we KNOW them, may we RAISE them. Like my mother did. I did. And you both ARE - Aanchal & Shalu Tyagi:-)
Then lets celebrate Women's Day.

So- A very Happy Women's Day- in advance to all such women. Not to the doormat category. Because they don't exist.
And you men, are welcome to wish us too:-) Because we are angels. If you break our wings, we don't give a damn. We simply continue to fly - On broomsticks:-) We are flexible like that.

Happy Women's Day- to US.

Vanakkam, Chennai

Dear North India,
I have spent one short week in the land of the Tamil, and experienced what is the true essence of India. Just want to share this with you. Because forewarned is forearmed after all. So, restrain your machismo, stop strutting around, lower your voice, lower the volume of that #&@# music, stop honking your horns.. And listen.
1. The roads of Chennai, Mahabalipuram and Pondicherry are narrow and as crowded, but nobody leans on the horn or attempts whizzing past the other, yelling obscenities. Everyone somehow reaches where they're going minus all of that.
2. The toll booths mostly are open, minus the electronic barrier. Just Nobody yells Yayyyyy or flashes beer bottles and speeds through. They stop, exchange a pleasantary and pay up.
3. Stop anyone on the road and ask for directions. They reply with a Thank you prefixed and suffixed.
4. Catch anyone's eye.. You can be assured of a warm smile.
5 . JUST NOBODY OGLES WOMEN. No matter what they wear. Or do not wear.
6. There is hardly a police presence to be seen. People haven't locked themselves behind a thousand grills. I have never seen such a safe place in my life.
7. An inclusive people, language barrier notwithstanding. It's Enlightening and so warming to realize that language is so unimportant and trivial to communicate. Gestures, a few words in English, and numerous smiles.. And Bingo! You're connected.
8. A people in no hurry. No ratrace competition. Living life as life is meant to be lived. Healthy. Happy. And it shows in the lack of queues outside hospitals and clinics.
9. In 7 days, we did not see a single man peeing on walls, and no man, woman or child spitting anywhere!
10. Last and very very definitely not the least , there is complete equality among the people. . Rich and Poor, Hindu and Muslim, Black and White. No subservient attitudes, no looking up or down at the other. You do your thing, I will do mine. Peacefully. With honour.
The driver, the peon, the household help, the employee.. You are your name to them. They will refer to you address you by your name. Yes an odd "saar" from time to time. But that's it.

Please wake up. This means You - Delhi, NCR, Punjab, UP, Haryana.. You have defiled, degraded, destroyed the spirit of India. With your uncouth manners and rotten ways.

Suddenly.. In this short week.. I saw India. The real one. I will never forget you. Because this is the India that lives inside me.

Valentine Madness

Promise day, Chocolate day, Teddy day, Hug Day, Promise day... Then the day of the deepest, awesome-est, divinest emotion ever.. Love. Makes me happy to see how our children have raised themselves from days dedicated to assorted Gods and Goddesses, fasting, doing penance, steeped in rituals.. Meaningless indoctrination of the mind. .. At least now the focus has shifted to realistic facets of life.. Food for the body, food for the soul :-)

- Happy Every Day to all.


Dear St. Valentine,
I have a serious complaint to lodge. Why did you not clarify your legacy? Why do generations who love the legacy of love, feel it is restricted to just a tiny age slot? 16 to 26 year olds? Why? Can love be compartmentalized into any shape, size, era or age? Can relationships override each other in supremacy? Is the love for a parent, a child, a sibling, a neighbor, a friend.. Any less than that for a partner?

You have to admit. You slipped up. Everyone enjoys a surprise gift. Opening one's eyes to the fragrance of fresh flowers. To see a warm smile in the eyes of those who care. That precious feeling of being made to feel special. Am I right or am I right? Sigh! I am always right. People know that by now.

So - here goes! Happy Valentine's day to you St. Valentine. And to every one I care for. And who care for me. Also.. I will put my nasty side away in commemoration of this season, and wish the same to those who do not care for me. And vice versa
Fair enough? Here's gifts in abundance and loads of love and best wishes to one and all here.. May everyone have those special people in their world.. Who make everything worthwhile . 

Randomness:-)

Looking out of my railway carriage
As oft I am wont to do for fun,
(For it isn't you alone who has that poetic licence-
dear Alfred Lord Tennyson)

I looked into the deep dark woods
For to see the precious sight,
A few pairs of tawny eyes,
Maybe a flighty deer fight.

With the trumpeting sound in my ear
In my mind's eye I saw.
How many pachyderms are these..
Did I see five and six?
Or were there five and four?

Then all at once the train doth pass
Over a meagre stream.
And inward flashed upon my eye
As though part of some dream.

A pride of proud peacocks
Gallivanting back and forth,
Their heads bowed down, their tails held high -
Water filled in their throats!

Oh but what a majestic sight that was
That I had the good luck to spy.
Afore we steamed into a busy town
And there goeth my inward eye!

-With due apologies to Robert Frost, Robert Browning, Lord Byron and Affred Lord Tennyson

Seema Tyagi

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!”

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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.