Mothers and daughters

Love cannot be exerted..the effort shows!!! When I brought you into this world..there was an effort and it showed, when I woke nights to balm your aches, there was an effort and it showed, when I stood watching over your faltering steps and let you fall so that eventually you would learn to walk on your own..there was a tremendous effort not to grab hold of your hand and stop you from getting hurt, and even this effort showed. Were these acts not love then? or maybe you were not watching.

From a tiny girl to a precocious child..is not as long a journey as it is from this precocious child to the teenage years. As I saw you change from the baby whose world revolved around me alone, to a young girl with many facets and friends, from a child who thought 'Mom knows it all' to a girl who felt shy that her mom was a housewife and wore 'not happening' clothes, the road was not easy but had to be taken anyways. Did the effort show? Yes it did..for this time you were watching. Every praise that I uttered seemed 'too little too late' and every rebuke turned into a vicious and deliberate dagger.Yah we had entered the rebellious teens.. you for the first time - eager, delirious, unprepared, uncaring. Me for the second - apprehensive, scared, judgemental and paranoid.

We passed this roller coaster ride and mellowed, I with a heave of relief and you with eyes full of dreams and plans for the future. Somewhere in that ride, we had managed a ceasefire and agreed to disagree on the most important issues of life. I had accepted my lack of' being with the times' and you had agreed to put on an air of acceptance with your prehistoric mom. All this while somehow your equation with your dad had never changed, very surprising but very true.. as always it was a hug and a kiss routine. No interference, no problems.. but moms and daughters.. well that's entirely a different equation. I could watch you fall and get up while you learnt to walk and pride myself at my patience, but every time you even came remotely near a bump on the freeway of life, I was right in front of you with all my signals blaring!!! I thought I was protecting you...I thought it was love..what did you see? maybe you saw an effort..

We fought endlessly on the kind of friends, lipsticks, shoes and hemlines, on appropriate behaviour, on career plans, time and again I felt unable to cope, to deal with my little girl who had transformed completely into somebody I had no clue about... Until finally one day I decided to look at my relation with my mom. It took a while but the answers were all there for me to see and wonder....I had raised hell as well for someone.. who was just trying to love me in a way that didn't probably suit me well enough! I realised all the things that I was doing or telling my daughter now were the exact things my mom told me.. even the tone was the same!! maybe the content changed but the issues were the same.. I remembered then how resentful I had felt of mom.. and I cud sympathise with my daughter, I also understood, though a bit late, what my mom would have felt in dealing with me, I sympathised with her too. Well where did all this sympathizing leave me? Probably with just a wee bit higher level of understanding... until the next issue threatened to bring down the roof on me and my daughter!

As a good Indian mom and housewife, I had always instilled in my kids the admiration and due respect for the sole earning member of the family - their dad! They loved and respected the hardworking and dynamic figure in the household who took on challenges head on, who worked hard and partied harder, who demanded the best and usually got it without as much as a tussle from his kids.. who even now came back from office to be greeted warmly by his wife and kids. Who never felt the tension in the house nor the misgivings of the late hours. A perfect parent, a role model!! For every inch that I fought to achieve with my daughter, he got with a smile at the mere mention of it. Here I ask what showed? his love or my envy?

Now my daughter is a mom herself and through sources I have come to know that she calls me her role model hahahahah - 'too little too late'? No, its pure joy that I feel..to me its love and love alone..can see no effort!! life definitely comes a full circle at some point and with every mom and daughter the circle however edgy does meet at the end!!

Youth Icon writeup anchored in Oman

"Aim for the stars, at least you'll soar high" a much often used phrase to encourage the kids to brush up and pursue their potential to the fullest. The stars that twinkle so bright need not just be in space, this ageless phrase does in fact talk about the bright young stars of today. Who blaze our galaxy by their sheer persona and talent.

The youth of any country is definitively very high energy, powerful, volatile and most often than not unfocussed. When, from amongst them a few, who have made their country proud are acknowledged and celebrated as Icons, they serve to spur the rest of their generation to go that extra mile. Be it sports, fashion, politics, media, entrepreneurship, every field has a blazing icon that looks at you from the posters and says, ”If I can do it, so can you!”
Oman, the country we live in is predominantly a young country, or to put it better, a country of the young. With over 50 per cent of the population aged 16 and below. Oman took a strong step on the global map in 1970, following a long period of isolation. The new Sultan steered the country from a traditional society to a modern one, embracing knowledge, technology, and the strength of roots. Today before us stands a nation that has come a long way in a very short period. A nation that has grown from strength to strength through the vision and the willpower of a young and dynamic Sultan. What better youth icon can a country ask for than the ruler himself?
As the country prospered, so did industry, and the two young seafaring brothers from Sur, with ambitious dreams and entrepreneurial skills not only made Bahwan a household name in the country, but they opened floodgates of opportunity for the youth of this country. Their contribution to the economy and manpower of Oman goes beyond recognition. Two blazing stars in the galaxy of icons for the youth with dreams and the tenacity to implement them.
A country of football lovers has an icon in Ali Al Habsi, who started playing at the age of seventeen and joined the ranks of the Oman under 19 squad, before he was spotted by the the English league to play for them. This young man now shines from the eyes of each kid with a football to toss around. Why limit icons to just men, it really makes me proud that the country we live in, though an Islamic nation has never believed in keeping the womenfolk behind veils. Today Oman is proud of young seventeen year old Buthaina Hamoud Al Yaqoobi. Her participation in the athletic event at the Beijing Olympics is in itself an inspiration to many Omani girls.
The Corporate arena of Oman is full of women who have proved time and again the importance of equal opportunity or no gender bias, their rise in the fields of their choice is a powerful guiding star to every young girl in Oman. The names are many, but the ones that cannot be left out are those of, Hind Bahwan - Director Suhail Bahwan Group, who has spearheaded the IT division of this group and is winner of many awards recognizing her commitment and contribution, Maitha Al MahroUqi is perhaps among the few women, who are heading the complete operations of an airline in the country, HH Sayyida Tania bint Shabib al Said is spreading awareness about the environment through
The Environment Society of Oman (ESO). The fields are varied, but the mission is the same to stay on the path of success and overcome any hurdle that may come your way, which as we all know, somehow manages to increase when it comes to women. These women are the torch bearers for the youth of Oman
The youth of any country is not constrained by geographical or political boundaries when it comes to choosing their personal star or icon, but it does give a boost to know that a kid just like them, with similar educational and social circumstances made it right up there. Youth icons make nations proud. They crossover nationality and emerge as global names to beacon each youngster who dares to dream. The recognition that a country, at times, gets through these icons is immense, Like Sachin Tendulkar, Sania Mirza, Sharukh Khan are synonymous with my homeland, India. Similarly Oman has and will continue to get global recognition through its young and aspiring youth. Here's saluting 'Shabab Oman'

The Land of the Pharaohs..

Like many from my generation, Egypt was much more to me than Geography or History lessons..amongst the other civilizations that we studied about, this land always managed to come out of the pages and live its story in front of us. The intrigue all the more deepened on reading and later viewing the famous "Death on the Nile". The pictures of the Pharaohs, The myths and legends of the land, The eternal river Nile and the supreme Pyramids were all impressions that left me wanting to someday reach out to this land... to see for myself the wonders man is capable of creating.

Egypt, when I finally reached its shores proved beyond all my expectations. The place is soaked in ageless history, The main city of Cairo, the present day capital is a confluence of modern and ancient architecture, an amalgamation of cultures that have conquered and lived in this country and left footprints for posterity. The Coptic churches, the Roman Towers, and also the Persian Citadel stand tall and majestic along with the bustling modern day city life and chaotic traffic of Cairo.


As I travelled to the various temples on the shores of the Nile, the legends came to life, The pharaohs and their Gods, the High priests and the common people, the sacred offerings made to the Gods filled me to the brim with their timelessness. The carvings on the walls seemed to speak out the tales of a time which was full of romance and mystery. Out of the many stories that are prevelant.. the one that touched me the most was the story of Osaris and his sister-wife Isis. The great and powerful Osaris was treacherously killed by his brother Seth and his body cut into pieces and scattered all over Egypt. Isis hunted down each piece and rekindled the spark of life into Osaris' body long enough for it to impregnate her with Horus to continue the great line of Gods. Isis became the God of love and magic, which actually sums up to motherhood, Osaris became the God of afterlife.

Nearly two and a half thousand years have passed since Alexander the great conquered Egypt, yet images from the myths of that ancient civilization continue to surface, In the 1970s Bob Dylan composed a song on the Goddess Isis, the eternal mother. The US dollar depicts an eye and pyramid - Masonic borrowings from ancient Egypt- and numerous Egyptian companies use names, faces and cartouches from the old mythology to promote their product and services. The monuments and myths of Egypt have since long crossed its shores and spread out all over the world as very well known and accepted figurines.

The land is not just mythical it has a history of powerful rulers and dynasties. Rulers who have crafted out monuments that have stood the test of time like none other. Simple and strong designs, intricate craftsmanship, logical and methodical thought process have gone into creating the temples and the pyramids. The legend of the female Pharaoh Hashteshput is remarkable as a citing of equality of gender in the ancient Egyptians. She ruled the nation for more than 15 years fought battles and defeated crusaders, the temple built by her along the Nile in the city of Luxor tells the tale of this great warrior queen who was later succeeded by her son Thutmose III. Her tomb is in the valley of kings along with the other Pharaohs of the land and not in the valley of the queens which was the usual burial destination for the queens of Egypt. Another pharaoh who knocked at my heart strings was Akhenaten, within five years of his rule, this pharaoh radically simplified the polyesthetic religion of the land and replaced the multitude of deities, with one sole God, Aten. The object of his worship was the bright light of the sun, rather than the sun itself. Akhenaten was a mystic and a poet whose love sonnets to his beautiful wife Nefertiti are still recorded in hieroglyphics. Their importance is much more pronounced as Akhenaten is followed by Tutankhamun(his son in law) on the throne. The most powerful and intriguing image of Egypt, Tutankhamun and his mask of gold... The child Pharaoh who died before the age of 18.

Tutankhamun and his golden mask symbolize Egypt for many, but the facts tell another story, Tutankhamun was a pharaoh, but not the greatest, as he lived and ruled for a very short period, but his story is tender and young, his tomb, discovered very late is full of treasures that tell a story of young love and beauty, of ornaments and jewels, beds and thrones of gold, there are small coffins or tabouths as they are called, inside the tomb of Tutankhamun which show the probability of many still born heirs of this child King.

Ramases II was the self proclaimed ruler of the lower and upper Egypt, the most powerful and the most popular of kings. His staues and temples form the basis of the new Kingdom, he conquered beyond the boundaries of Egypt.He ruled Egypt for more than 66 years. The temple of Abu Simbel is dedicated to him..he stopped just short of announcing his divinity.

Egypt cannot be complete without the mention of Cleopatra. The diplomatic and beautiful queen who came to the court of the 54 year old Julius Caeser rolled in a carpet, The love of Cleopatra and Mark Antony is equally linked to Egyptian history as it is to the Roman history, their asociation and romance around the city of Alexandria is a tale of passion and deciet, of careless neglect and lavish splendor. This last queen of Egypt commited suicide immediatly after the death of Mark Antony on 12th August 30 BC. No one knew for certain how she died. They only found small pricks on her arm. Some say she brought an asp to her chambers, smuggled in a cart carrying figs... her body was never found.

Beyond the kings and Queens, Beyond the pyramids, ageless and tranquil, neither rain fed nor born from any glacier flows the Nile... The beauty of its colour and the depth of its floor is vast enough to hold all the treasures of all the pharaonic burial chambers, the mystery of the land is washed clean by its waters and the golden sun arising from its shore each day blesses the pharaohs of the ancient times. Just as the Sphinx guards the pyramids, the Nile guards this ancient land and brings the softness of the queens to the land of powerful pharaohs.

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!