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.

Happy Birthday, Aanchal:-)

To my darling daughter, on her ...th Birthday (No- I won't even SAY the T-word)

3 decades (I DIDN'T say the T-word!). . Has it really been that much? 

Flashback: A pleasant December began. A strange feeling- growing so huge, carrying that gossamer soft little life inside of me. Days and nights spent dreaming of what it would feel like to hold that tiny being in my arms. What he/she would look like..

I enjoyed every moment of those magical weeks. Being pampered at work by my colleagues(I was doing my internship at Pune Cantonment Hospital) and at home by your dad-to-be and all of his squadron mates, attending numerous parties and going off on long bike rides ("Lets go- this might be the last drive for the next few months") ...When both of your grand-moms-to-be turned up at our doorstep with packed bags and blissfully expectant expressions, discussing avidly the hows/whos/whys/wheres/ifs/buts/whethers of you and me:-) And aghast at our carefree and "careless" lifestyle:-))

I remember how they would both wake up every morning in the guestroom of our makeshift temporary accommodation at the Air Force Station, hoping to hear that I was in labour:-) And the disappointment on their faces when they saw me all robust and jumpy as always!  (I remember we had attended a dance party the previous evening..and you had wriggled and squirmed inside of me, protesting against the loud music) 

And then came D-Day.

Exact to the day calculated by my gynaecologist, Dr. Banu Coyajee at the KEM Hospital.

Your dad drove me on his bike- I remember three of us on that Yezdi- don't remember if it was naani or daadi on the bike that day) ... and then the pains! Ohhh..the pains..searing my body and tearing me apart..hours and hours .. both grandmoms alternately wiping tears from their eyes and helping me walk in the corridors..until finally i was inside the labour room. Your dad's hand clenched in mine.. the pain in his eyes reflecting the torture inside my body.. and then..your first cry! It was the most amazing, the most indescribable moment of my life!

Some hours ..and a dozen boiled sweets (which your dad had thoughtfully tucked under my pillow) later..I held you in my arms for the first time. Saw that tiny cherubic plump, wrinkled, dumpling face.. And I still remember the tremor of delight that shook my body and soul:-)

The rest was a journey of discovery and love, happiness and torment, delight and worry..and just about every emotion rolled into one big smug happy mother!

I watched you grow and become the very person I had left behind somewhere in the shadows of my childhood. I relived my childhood and my youth through you, beta. And the strange wonder of it all was- you understood. And in your childish loving way, walked hand-in-hand with me through those pathways of the journey of my life. You helped me find that precious part of me and made me a complete person.

I know, and I hope and pray, that somewhere in your own tomorrows- you find what I did. But until then, my baby, here are some words of wisdom on this special day for you:-)

REMEMBER-

1. You are not thirty. You are only 29.95 plus shipping and handling.

2. Thirty isn't old at all..if you are a tree:-))

Here are some lines for you-

Please believe me and hear,

What you deserve to hear,

Your birthday as my own to me, is dear.

For Yours gives most.. as mine did lend

Just Me-to the world;

Yours gave me a Friend:-)

A birthday is just the first day of another 365 day round trip around the sun. So enjoy the ride:-)

Happy Birthday Sweetheart. I love you with every sinew and fibre of my being:-)

Remember- you are actually just 15. Twice over:-) 

So carry a little bit of your childhood with you for ever. And all of the relationships that are precious to you.

Thank you for finding your way into my womb. My life. My soul :-)

And thank you for being my best friend.

Your gift? Some of my precious memories:-) Here they are -

Mom

My way, or the highway.

I have always believed that when you dance to your own rhythm,Life taps its toes to your beat. And that there are two types of people - the leaders and the followers. Maybe its a genetically coded thing. Or maybe its a result of conditioning, upbringing and situations. Whatever it is- the two kinds are completely intolerant of the other.

Then, there are those that have transitioned from one to the other kind. like I have.And that defies and delivers a well-aimed bonk on the head of the above two theories.

I do not remember when, how, why it happened to me. I distinctly remember what a docile, sweet, quiet lamb I used to be. The model child- so my parents and relatives often espoused. A sweet melodious soft voice (NO need to snigger, people!) and a calm, shy dimpled face. Under-confident, very very shy..someone who couldn't (and didn't) ever say BOO to a goose! 

I remember my dad pulling my leg and mimicking my calling out to a rickshaw, when I went to medical college. As in, as soft, shy "Rick-shaaaaaa...", which more often than not went unheard. I remember dashing in to my parents drawing room and wishing the assorted aunties and uncles there (as was the approved tradition for well-behaved kids back then in army households) and dashing out with cheeks burning with embarrassment ! (Yes- we ARE still talking about me here!)

Then I met, fell in love and got married to a social drone- the life and soul of boisterous parties. Maybe we both learn from the other. Maybe it was a mutation brought about by "extenuating circumstances"- on account of moving out from the Air Force way of life and into a Joint Family! Maybe it was survival. 

Today, and a large part of yesterday- has seen complete role reversal in my home. Hubby is the loner and the strong, silent kind, and I have transcended the social butterfly kingdom! Live life on my terms, follow my own dreams, do my own thing, run my life and that of other willing and unwilling subjects in my kingdom MY way:-)) - aided and abetted by my fond family of course!
My motto : Its my way or the highway:-))

Facebook has a word for it- "In an open relationship"..which often confuses people. They understand the term in the short-sighted, tunnel-visioned way that patriarchal society teaches them- meaning- "having an affair"!! For me- it means complete freedom for each member of my family to choose their directions, follow their dreams and target their horizons. With the vital corollary: So long as its ok with the others:-))

And I have found it the most successful and satisfying way to live! So- my advice to all of the followers out there - Play your own tune, dance to your own rhythm, choose your own piece of sky and fly with your own wings! And Life will tap its toes to your beat too:-)

Strangers in the night..

 Ever thought?
The person walking in front of you on the rain-drenched sidewalk?
Covered with an umbrella, and all that can be seen is a dark raincoat and shoes splashing puddles.
Man, woman, child? Anybody anyplace?
And yet this person is the hero of his/her life story.
The love of someone's life. The villain of another's.
And what he/she can do can change the world.
For someone. Someday. Somehow.
Ever thought?
Of being in that dark coat and mud-splashed shoes?
Think the next time-
And then continue on your own way.
There is no difference between that stranger and the people you pride in calling friends. Relatives. 

At the bottom of all withering relationships lies indifference. That it the one irrefutable truth. When passion fades- be it for people, visions, dreams, rainbows, silver linings, thoughts, ambitions or work- there is a vacuum, an empty space, drained of all life, that we call indifference. 
So many people I see everyday, that are indifferent. Exist in little holes dug by themselves, for themselves. Immediate possessions, immediate families, immediate earnings. The rest of the world fades away into oblivion for them. Throwing rubbish outside their walls, so to say. 
Such people will find those very walls very empty some day. Because giving and taking walk hand-in-hand. That is the rule of the universe.

I always wonder how they survive. For me- the vibrancy of living is Passion. People. Dreams. Ideas.  No walls exist for me between friends and family. All for one and one for all. That is my truth. And that of all of the people in whose hearts I live. 

Am enriched and fulfilled. And however much I hurt when indifference is extended to me, I will always remain myself. A helping hand, a ready shoulder, for one and all. 

I will walk in those rain-drenched shoes. The stranger in the night is me. Born- to live. And change someone's world somewhere. 

To the Son-Rise of my world- Happy Son's Day:-)

To, The Son-rise of my world,

I just realized today, that the powers that be (Archies cards?) havent invented a day for sons!! That has to be rectified! So..I hereby decree today – the 4th Sunday of Sept as Daughters and Sons day! And how is it possible that a doting mom doesnt write some ...ahh..diplomatically chosen words of love for her “iklaota rajkumar”???

And so- here is something for you-the apple of my eye.

To begin- a suitable quote.
Happy is the son whose faith in his mother remains unchallenged.

So-have faith in my plans for you, and trust always in my judgment. For I am an authority of many things- pig sties included! ("This is the worst looking pigsty I have ever seen in my life, and I want it cleaned up right now." )
Sigh!

You, my son- came into my life actually resented . The future of the most precious being in our lives was threatened if we were going to bear a member of the male fraternity. “Beta hi hoga” were the words constantly floating about my periphery all those long 9 months. And I have to admit- I resented them. For your dad and me..and nana and nani too..your sister was I think the most wonderful miracle that had fallen into our lives. And NOTHING could compare with that. Not even another daughter, we thought. Definitely NOT a son! We dreaded the thought of Aanchal being pushed into the background of our lives, so to say. So I used to pray hard for a second girl-child only. My childish way of “showing” the adversaries.

And then you were born. It was, all-in-all a chaotic day. And then at the hospital, nani stubbed her toe on a wheelchair and had to be given anti-tetanus shots. The pain searing through my body yet kept me lucid enough to wish hard (with fingers crossed) for a daughter. The doctor I remember, asked me what I wanted..and I replied “Beti”. And there you were! She said “Beti hui hai”. And I remember vividly, the tension easing out of my body:-) And my silent HA! - went unheard.

An hour or so later, after being wheeled through a haze of beaming faces..they put you into my extended arms. A screwed up, puckered dark scowling face, on a scrawny body. Disbelief! That is the one word that sums up all that was going through my mind.

 Beta hua tha.

We went home..and days and weeks sped by in the spin of two children, 4 and a half years apart in age..it was work, work, work all the way. Juggling work with home, I can truly say, I did not enjoy your childhood as much as you deserved. Frequent scoldings, random slaps resounding inside (and outside) the walls of our home....each time I perceived something that threatened my sunny daughter's happiness. It was unfair. Very unfair.
I remember distinctly one day, when my mother said to me - “ye bhi tera hi bachcha hai, beta.”

That day, that comment, changed everything for me. Suddenly my world turned right side up. And the tiny lost face with big eyes full of confusion (and bigger teeth!) began to look like the cutest, loveliest little boy in the whole wide world. I fell in love with you that day, Saahil. But it was way too late. I do not know if your were born with your dyslexia or had it thrust upon you (by me) .  I cannot forgive myself for those first few years of our lives together. My only excuse is that I knew not what I was doing...

I think Aanchal made up to you for all of our follies. She fell in love with her teeny-bopper brother from day one. Looked after you, cared for you, shared with you- and was always your best pal in your growing years. I still remember how your eyes would search for her at some friend's birthday party, and how automatically her hand and yours got entwined:-) Yes- I did notice all of that.

As you grew into a smart little boy- hopeless in studies and brilliant in mechanical gadgets and all things scientific and innovative. You invented new things (a water powered torch, assorted electrical gadgets to make your broken toys run, your sister's doll house lit up with your wiring and attaching cells to tiny bulbs...) new words (“goi” for the tar smelter used for making roads, frigilator for the stabilizer atop the fridge) I remember how you told a neighbour that your dad used to fly combat planes and “left it” hence you were Flight Left-enant Tyagi”!!! Life was full of your colourful report cards adorned all in red, PTMs and calls to the Principal's office, homework and learning..and utter despair! In the both of us:-)  I think the only time you ever won a prize at school was for Story-Telling!!!! A rightly deserved prize for sure:-))))

Then came the turning point in our lives. I remember papa and me sitting in Row 3 from the screen watching :Taarey Zameen Par”..and seeing your life, your trauma..being played out on the screen. (Incidentally, The little boy in the film had an uncanny resemblance to you. As did the little boy in “Home Alone”) Rajiv and I held hands and wept in that dark hall that day. Wept for what we, as educated people of science, had allowed you to go through. (The very refrains of the song “Tujhe sab hai pata hai na Ma” still reduces me to tears)

Even being equipped with our new knowledge, your hopeless struggle with formalized education had me completely fazed out, with reading out your lessons to you through the night, while your little head dropped with sleep, and doing your homework for you..which continued right to making your projects in Hotel management College too!

I remember your hiding your test papers, making tall imaginative tales, bad grades, confusion, panic—and the small nervous tics that probably kept you from going insane. (Sounds worse than it was actually:-))
And the inevitable slaps:-)) You would bring me my knitting when I sat down to teach you—which I later realized was a smart means of not keeping my hands free to deliver some well-aimed bonks on your head:-))

 I can go on and on. Where do I stop? At the blackmailing tactics papa and I used to resort to –for the other attending your PTMs? For the chemistry lab you set fire to? Sigh! I have to cut this short!

So- in short..Bit by bit, you entered my bloodstream and into my soul. I dont remember when what happened. I only know that you became an inseparable part of me..and air in my lungs, the beat of my heart, the essence of my soul. And I rose and fell with your ups and downs and my heart filled with pride at your achievements.  I watched you turn into a upright young man- - - -my little lost boy.

Today, I smile when I see the new confidence in your step, the power in your voice, the self-assurance and dignity with which you conduct yourself. I am so proud of you, my son. I tried hard after the first few years , to “make it up” to you. I don't know if I succeeded partly or in whole- all I know is you far overtook everyone else inside the core of my being.

Thank you for being part of my body and soul. Thank you for the adventurous life I have led. (Shudderrr!!)

I love you-------And like I said to your sisters- my love for you is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path. So here you have your very own personal bodyguard too:-)

So Beware!

Mom.