When life gets blurred.... Read this with your audio equipment on

Jeebon jokhon shukaaye jaaye.. karunadharaye esho...Death is a preoccupation with me.Its probably because as a family, ours has seen many interrupted lives.we have had to let go and stand alone in the cold aftermath of death's finality. As a family we have been brave and strong, gentle in nursing each others wounds, in coming together and re-bonding the flailing spirits. As a family we have managed to move on. We have time and again embraced life.. danced and sang at weddings, laughed at shared jokes, welcomed new members with open arms.. hidden the scars from probing eyes.. but death continues to rule the roost in this family, in me.

The transience of life and the permanence of death is not something that we have read about or learnt at discourses, we have witnessed this in our midst. We have grown from tears to panic, we have researched all there is on fatal diseases, we have worried endlessly about simple fevers and aches, we have turned every headache to brain tumour and every fever to leukeamia, visit to a doctor's clinic has been panic stricken, every checkup terrorizing. Its not death that scares us... its the days before, and the days after, that stay embedded in our souls like fragments of shattered glass eager to renew the wound, eager to bleed all over again.

What have we witnessed that scars us so? Death is a part of life everywhere, all families go through this.. why is it then that death looms larger than life for us? I think it all boils down to the stripping of the spirit that we have witnessed. People we have loved and idolised from childhood have broken down and cried, faith - that no harm comes to good people has been stripped of its honour in the wake of terminal diseases, unconquerable spirits have pleaded, even begged for a few more years, to see their children through crucial phases, unanswered prayers, Gods of stone, unending pain and the shearing of dignity is what haunts the most. Death after all is not for more than a few seconds. But the defeat is timeless!

The fear lies then, not in dying, but in leaving behind untrodden paths, those numerous walks that were yet to be made, the laughter of children, the beauty of their development, the fear is of the pain and dealing with it, of losing independence and humour, of leaving behind a memory fraught in pain and disease of bearing the agony of dear ones arranging for the treatment funds, of being the reason for their despair along with our own.. of losing hope each day, of dying a thousand deaths before the actual hour strikes. What then is my prayer to the power beyond me? When I know that death is truer than life, when I know that pain is real. I ask for graciousness in acceptance, I ask for the light that will be the guiding star to show the way to a dignified end... shokol maadhuri lukaaye jaaye geetshudha roshe esho...

Matters of the Heart.....

What is it that makes a blood pumping organ in our body overshadow the brain..which is supposed to be the crucible of wisdom, logical and analytical thinking? In my case this is so true..at times I wonder If I really do have a brain..or maybe there's been a major role reversal within the organs and I didn't notice..truly, maybe my brain is pumping blood.

As a student when I never got my analytical questions correct I didn't pay much attention.. but now as an adult I really wonder why is my thought process so different from the rest of the crowd? Do I oversimplify situations or do I not see the world as it is? Or are my tints too dark? This is not a self pity article.. definitely not, these are questions to myself? Over the years I have met people who like me have blood pumping brains.. and to tell you all the truth I get so attached to them.. because the world we see through our hearts eye is so much more fun. I have also been tremendously lucky to be surrounded by people who have their brains working perfectly and doing what its meant to. They have time and again warned me of looming disasters and kept their cool as they meticulously picked up pieces that I scatter in my wake.

Blame it on the genes or the planetary positions in my birth chart... I have realized time and again that the world that I see through my heart is not the world as it exists.. Here things are not simple.. here people go about their business and never spare a moment to dream of raindrops and pixies, here friendships are tainted, everything is in lieu of something else, choices are forced or should I say you are forced to make a choice about everything. Parameters are set everywhere, narrow and stringent lanes separating right from wrong, marching people... forgotten hearts.

Just around the corner is my space... where friendships are not bracketed, where being silly is permissible, Where love is not a four letter word, where there is time to play and run and where blue is the sea and not a film category.

There is never a debate within me as to whether to follow the mind or the heart..I have happily let my mind pump blood, and have followed my heart, I have tripped and hurt myself time and again but this has never overshadowed the fun that I have had, The bruises always fading in comparison to the excitement of climbing hills and crossing fields but the ride of the heart is not a steady one..its a roller coaster where you are always looking forward to the next high. I wish I could invite everybody to cross the fence, even if it is for a few moments, to experience the world as I do, to understand that life is probably a little more than a great job and a happening lifestyle.. To give the heart a chance for a change!!

Yeh Tera Ghar yeh Mera Ghar...

Ever wondered when a house suddenly starts to feel like home? A flat in an unknown city, taken in a building that's close to work is how the process usually begins. You walk in the first day and look around you and think.. hmmm.. this is where I will come from work each day, this is where I will build my hopes and see my dreams and more mundanely..this is what will protect me come rain or shine!

The walls are bare and white, the floors cold and uninviting, the kitchen scrubbed but empty, the bathroom dry and unfamiliar..the windows - gaping holes staring at other homes. What does it take to make this space fill up with joy and love? Warmth and music? How does this house become a home? Dear friends it all starts - with a list of things required, made by two fond hearts.

A bed and a wardrobe, a table with a couple of chairs, a TV, a Fridge, an oven and cylinder, pots and pans, bucket and tumblers even a broom and a mop make it to the list. Each day henceforth the stores are scoured for the goods, prices bargained, at times compromises made with a promise tag saying.. later when we have enough we will go for the best, at times giving in to an impulse and taking the budget way beyond the allocated amount. Are these the memories then, that fill up the bare space? The tired, after work evenings of unending traffic to reach a particular store, the cool lemonade sipped while choosing from rows and rows of curtains, the mirth of bargaining for doormats, heaving the supplies all the way chivalrously, the impressed smile and the back rub making the fatigue worthwhile.. the tussle over the brand of the fridge, the kiss and make up night thereafter.. these memories are intermittently linked to each piece of furniture.

Then comes the frills.. the rugs and the shades, the lamps and the frames, the rocking chair and the bookshelf, the Sony wireless Home Theater(ouch).. the cushions, the candles, the fridge magnets - all gifts of love, all giving the house the warmth of a home. Nightlong discussions on the placement of each item, the shared pleasure in finally getting it right, the exhileration of a single wall painted RED.. the counting and recounting of the salary left at the end of each month, the worry of having gone beyond means, the faith of a shared future, the trust of undying love. Are'nt these what make a house come to life?

Now when you walk in at the end of a long day.. the bare, uninviting space of before opens its arms for you.. each corner holds a smile, maybe even a few tears.. each nook has a story to tell, the wet bathroom floor could bring a scowl to your face, the slippers left haywire might irritate you, the strewn magazines might provoke you to a fight..but then isnt this much better than a neat and scrubbed empty space of white walls and bare floors...isnt this a home?

Toshali

Have you ever wished for something and got it? Probably then you would know what I feel each time I see Toshali. She is my prayers... in my arms. When I was carrying her I somehow knew I would have a daughter and that made me very happy. I have always felt deeply connected to her.

She took her own sweet time to get into this world, so much so that the doctors worried and almost prepared me for a last moment unplanned C-section. Ultimately though she did find her way out of me. As the nurses brought her to me I counted her fingers and toes and marvelled at the miracle of life. She was truly a bundle of joy. A baby girl made of dreams, the picture perfect pout, the thick black curls and so chubby you could cuddle her to your hearts content.

She being the first born, my energy level and time on hand were both high..and so I could afford to sit up nights and admire my precious gift, sing songs and weave dreams spun in golds and pinks. It is during one of these moments that I first saw her look up to me and smile - a wide, toothless smile that cannot be captured by a camera, a smile of trust and hope, faith and bonding, a smile that told me that this pretty girl in my lap is mine to take care and cherish.

The first time mom is an obssessed mom. Each monthly chkup chart from the doctors visit monitoring her growth was given the importance of board results. every step, every look and every new syllable uttered were a source of pure unadulterated joy and pride. Similarly every fall, every tummy ache, ear ache or just plain lack of appetite made me plunge into the deepest pit of depression. I wonder now, how my baby coped with this obsession. She did so and continues doing so as all first borns have to, for with them like with toshali, the dreams are limitless.

Small wobbly steps going to preschool, making friends, sharing the tiffin, red sweater over a blue skirt, the hairband that struggled to keep her curls in place, innocent eyes searching for a familiar face in the crowd..are all images that never age in my mind..seems like yesterday when she learnt her alphabets. she grew and each passing year made me think what a blessing it was to be a mom. Toshali was the easiest child to deal with as a parent for she never had any complaints. A happy, trusting and lively kid.

With her, we relocated quite a few times, and each time she said bye to her friends I felt the lump in my throat. She was always so quick to notice it and made it a point to tell me each time,'Dont worry mom, I'll make new friends', Her concern and care towards her parents and her grandparents is a defining trait in her even today. It amazes me to see how everytime she has her meals she asks whether I have had mine. She has happily coped with all my whims and fancies till date.I put her into as many activities as possible, never bothered to think if she enjoyed them, if she was inclined towards them.I put her because thats where the other kids were going, making her schedule choc-a-bloc. She always complied, running behind me with her small feet to each and every class learning to dance, to sing, to swim, to play the piano, to sketch and then at home to do the homework. Where I wonder now, was her time to play, to be a kid, to be naughty and throw tantrums. But it was not all that depressing and I would be exaggerating if I said nothing good came of it, Shes now a good swimmer, a great dancer and enjoys to sketch and sing.

Toshali was and I fear will always remain my learning ground, my moulding clay..with her I ran and fell, made mistakes, reached heights, jumped with joy and fell faint with agony..with her I wanted the world and she in turn brought it to me happily. If my second child has taught me to pick up pieces and not give a damn, Toshali has taught me graciousness, love and caring, she has taught me to be fair and in her sweetest way she has taught me that the greatest balm for the human heart is a fond hug and a loving kiss from your child.

Way to go my Princess!! You are and will always remain my motivation to be good!

Soumya

I distinctly remember the day I had him..I was not overtly tensed, as he is my second child .Infact I was more concerned about the hampered routine of my first born, Toshali. I felt tired and cranky and dont know why I felt a bit guilty each time I looked at Toshali. It was shoshti..and the city was all geared up for the five days of festivity. I had my small suitcase packed and ready from days before and reached the nursing home at the pre appointed time without any hassle. That particular day when I kissed toshali while she left for school..the only thought that lingered..when she sees me next I will be shared..blame it on the hormonal overdrive or whatever else..sentimentality was at its peak for me!

Unlike Toshali, Soumya entered the world with a lot less effort from my side..guess he was rearing to go even then! Holding him, the first thought I had..hes so light..Tosh was just perfect! Yah comparisions start early!! As a rejoinder to my thought came his deep and stretched out breath..almost a rebuking sigh. The days of the Puja that year passed in a haze for me..I was kept busy trying to make sense of the sleeping and feeding patterns of my new born. I brought him home on Doshomi.

With Soumya I have had to unlearn all my parenting guidelines, none of the tried and tested formulas worked..He has made me realise first hand that each card you are dealt with is different, so play differently. Now I realise that with him around I have grown too as an individual, my mind is constantly stimulated in thinking of new approaches to deal with his pranks, his zest for life and his bullish energy has definitely rubbed on to me..and also I have come to know the joy of having a real good fight head on, crying hard as if the world would end and within 5 minutes picking up the pieces and not giving a damn..A child that refuses to obey easily, helps you to grow..

I look at him and search for Dad..at times he gives me a glance that takes my breath away with its obvious resemblance..and the next moment he is his own self..the search is futile and I have come to realise that the search is very unfair too..to love him for all that he is..without comparision either to my family or his sister, is his right. His identity is his own..like his pranks, his mischieveous smile, and his 'driving me up the wall language skills' hahaha but what the heck!! Thats the Soumya Card..and I will play him to the best of my ability..

This one is for my Bond..the handsomest hunk in town!!

The Best National Anthem

I had no idea that there was a panel that judged National Anthems..but something like that does exist, and its in the headlines these days that the Indian National Anthem has been judged the best. As Indians we are all proud of this fact..but am sure we dont need a panel to tell this to us. I might not be an authority on National Anthems but I can say without a doubt in my mind that each time the first notes of Jana Gana Mana float through the air, every Indian's heart soars with love, respect, pride and bonding to the motherland, such is the beauty of the composition. As a child it was just a song that had to be sung at the begining of each day in the school assembly..we most of the times never got the words right..but the tune even then kept us glued to the spot.

Now as I see my children singing it along with their peers, I often wonder do they feel what we felt while we sang the anthem? Does their heart surge with pride at the ebb and tide of each note? Do they picture the beauty of each state as visualized by the poet? Can they see the lofty peaks, the beautiful rivers, the bounty of nature..or do they just see a land which has lost its way? Ravaged by internal wars and terrorism, everchanging heads of state, Corruption and immoral politics, underpaid masses, record breaking inflation rates, a land which even their parents have given up on!!

We travel abroad and take our kids to the Swiss Alps for the summers, The USA, and The UK fight with The South East Asian countries for enlisting themselves into our travel plans..but as parents we never somehow plan a trip to Kaziranga, or say the temples of the south, we even keep the Taj Mahal on the back burner..saying.."Ohh we can do that anyday" But does that day ever come? definitely our children are citizens of the world..they need exposure, they need to know the different cultures all around the globe..but before that dont they need to know their country better? why not take them to Gujarat and show them how Amul revolutionalized the milk industry? Why dont we give them a chance of being proud of their heritage by showing them the robust farms of Punjab..Why dont we have the courage to take them to Kashmir and show them that this land is worth protecting with your life!! Each soldier standing in attention at the LOC definitely deserves a salute form each of our kids.

Left to the news channels all they will ever hear about our country is negetivity, its upto us, their parents, to point out the beauty of a nation thats still too young to be given up on.. Let them feel the splendour of our nation, to be able to feel proud of the National Anthem, to be able to relate to it, to willingly stand up in salute to a song they sing everyday at the begining of an assembly.

Parenting..

Parenting.. what does this term mean? The dictionary says “Parenting is the process of raising and educating a child from birth, or before, until adulthood”. Personally I feel as parents we fail to keep the process as simple as the definition.

Children enter our lives and fill it up with unsurpassed joy. They are the symbol of life’s longing for itself.. and we are just the channel that life chooses to bring forth this phenomenon. But we fail to grasp this and start to play God. The burden of our thoughts, prejudices and ambitions are thrust on playful shoulders .. believe me these are much heavier than any school bag a child might ever carry! We forget that each child is born to its own destiny ..and as parents we are a mere part of their journey. Isnt this a great feeling unto itself ? Why is there a need to mould an unsuspecting young mind into the cast of our expectations? Why can’t we enjoy witnessing the blooming of the bud unless we have tinkered with it and chained it to wires to give it the shape of our desire?

As a parent I keep forgetting the laws of evolution. As a rule the generation coming forth from us is more intelligent, more capable of surviving in the world to which it is born. Each time I look at my children I am filled with awe and mesmerized by how much there is to learn from them ..and yet the need of being indispensable in their lives is never far. I have to keep reminding myself that my duty towards my children begins and ends with providing them with the stability of a home and the ingrained faith that there isnt a wrong in this world which cannot be made right.

There is so much talk about Parenting these days and the topic is so over hyped that this precious experience has become a source of stress to many. If we could have the faith that each child is special then we could probably focus on enjoying the time we have with them ..for it is a short while before they learn to fly! And what could be more joyous than to see them soar and embrace the life they were chosen for?