10 Things I did lately

1.Invited 3 mothers and 3 kids I have never seen before to my baby's first birthday party. No, they werent picked off the street or something; they happen to live in the same condo as me, just that I havent seen them before !

2. Made chicken biryani- the biryani was a treat to the tastebuds and successfully finished up half of it myself.

3. Went to a book sale and picked up 5 more books to read sometime in this lifetime. Yes motherhood slowly strangles even good hobbies.

4. Wrote another comeback poem for the darc website, which was nicely received and promptly havent penned anythig after that.

5. Taught my baby boy how to walk. Now, he does it on his own. Ape teaches younger ape.

6. Wrote a story for a children's website which will be made into an animated cartoon for kids.

7. Started waking up at 7:00 am again, irrespective of whether I slept the earlier night or not. Had forgotten what the sky past sunrise looked like.

8. Called up my grandma, and spoke to her for 2 mins flat. Which is a huge feat in itself.

9. Signed up for twitter and then decided that it was a huge waste of thought space.

10. Applied to around 50 freelance writing projects of which two have promptly replied back. To tell me that I do not fit their current requirements.

In the last 3 months....

Why is time flying faster than usual, I wonder. Looking at my last post, its hard for me to believe that the last time I wrote anything on my blog was in Jan. Exactly three months later, I am here once again to post something trivial, but new. A lot happened in the last few weeks. I made a long trip to India. My child's baptism FINALLY happened, although personally the ceremony was more of a joke, considering that only 15 people turned up. Very good number if you consider that only 17 were invited in the first place. And like almost every important ceremony, there was a huge confusion about who should be the godfather of the child. The priest kept reassuring us- It is the RIOT of the boy's father's father to be the godfather.

I stayed away from writing any poems for so long. And suddenly I worry that if I try to write a poem now, it just wont happen. Two birthday cakes from my fav cake shop in cochin turned up at home. Needless to say, I did more than full justice to them. Mom turned 49. The only reason why am writing that is because she has a phobia of turning 50, and I have a phobia of turning 30. NOT that I am 29 as yet. Am only GOING to turn 27 this sep. But since anxiety is a part of me, am worrying right now itself.

My baby boy is growing up so fast. Next month he turns a whole 1 year old. Where did time go? It feel slike, just yesterday I was on the operation table, half doped out, and lost in another world. Just yesterday that I held him for the first time and thinking how fragile he was, when both his parents are such huge sizes ( in my mother in law's words). Today, he can stand by himself, and is a chatterbox just like me. Of late, he loves being chased around the house by me, while his dad carries him. He knows how to get his way around me. One sad look of his and I melt faster than an ice cream. I really think that parents in a way are their children's slaves. He even has two little teeth which show every time he smiles. Truth be told, I am so fascinated by this little guy, right from the twinkle in his eye, to the way he cuddles upto me at night for warmth. I think of all the roles, I have played in life, motherhood rules.

Of course, on the other hand I am left behind, seeing one classmate after another climb managerial positions, while I am now a housewife. I hate that term. I think its got to do with the prejudice that people have about being a housewife, like oh she couldnt get a job, wasnt good enough, or oh she cooks and cleans and does nothing else. Content writing doesnt count as a job. People just politely nod when I say I am a writer. I guess to most, a writer means a person with untidy hair. a leaking pen, and a waste basket full of crumpled up paper. I want to stand up and say that yes sir, I cook and clean, and doing so was my choice. Simply because I cant bear the thought of a stranger raising my kid. And if I have lost out on a fatter bank account because of that decision, then by God, so be it. Someday when my baby boy grows up to be a fine young man, I know I will smile and be proud. Both of myself and him.

ON GRANDPA

I never thought my mom's father would feature in a blog post like this. Then again, like all hopeless realists, I took it for granted that he would be there forever and never die. Reality, who loves hitting me full blow in the face, slapped me hard- my grandpa died on Jan 11, 2009. And I had spoken to him just a day before. Although his speech slurred, his never say die attitude shone through- "I am fit and fine. and they arent letting me leave the hospital. I want to go home'. In the end, he did, except that home was now in the sky.

I didnt want to go for the funeral, and yet I did. I recommend going to funerals. Reality shakes you up well and good when you see a dead body, and that I believe is the first step to getting over the loss. Also, you realise all the good things that you still have. Thirdly, when you see the number of people who turn up to mourn a good man, it makes you want to lead a good life too.

I wasnt actually close to my grandpa, in the sense I didnt go running to tell him all about each event in my life, but he is the one grandparent who I have been around the longest. We had our moments together- like him picking me up from school and both of us having lunch together; being gifted a children's bible story book as a prize for a speech contest, my piggy banks were gifts from him, he always generously donated in coins and later cash, he gifted me a stuffed scottish terrier, I ended up watching cricket matches with him even thought I didnt really want to, I loved to see him potter around with his car, his table was always full of little knick knacks, he always remembered I loved chicken and food on the whole, he wore the few shirts and t shirts I gave him with utmost pride, and he always sounded so cheerful on the phone even when he didnt feel like it. I miss hearing his liners like- "you clot." "I am fit. Why whats wrong with me. You want me to drive the car and show you?" 'Walk straight. Chin out'. "Hi sanu. How are you, thanks for calling'.

Sometimes, you are closer to people than you are aware. I think the same is true of Big daddy and me. He was a short man, just 5 feet something tall, but he was a big man in every way- love wise, generousity wise, kindness wise and he had a big heart. He is more deeply embedded in my memory than even I know which is why I broke down while saying my tribute to him at the funeral. The little bad man, waving at me and giving me a hug that only his little frail body could give. Thats the way I am always going to remember him. Love you Bigdaddy.

WITH A BANG


Am beginning my New Year with a very familiar old feeling- guilt. Guilt at not having kept at my exercise regime, at not having posted anything on this blog for ages now, and especially for not having penned any new poetry. Best of all, what started out as a dream is still just that. Am referring to my great hopes about starting a children's book. Maybe someday this year I will finally get down to it.

I used to hate people who said they just didnt have the time. How can you not have time? Time is the only one thing we humans have an abundance of. I mean there ARE after all 24 hours in a day. Of late I find myself saying I dont have time to do a lot of things. I forgot to send xmas cards to everybody, didnt have time to send mails on orkut wishing everybody a new Year, and I even didnt call my best friend on new years either. Its helps that she doesnt really expect me to do things like that and if we talk today it will still feel like the conversation never ended between us. All I find I have time to do right now is juggling the most basic duties of a wife- cooking, cleaning, washing, taking care of the kid. When somebody asks you what you do during the day, its really no thrill to reel off this boring list. People give me the look like- whaa? thats ALL you do? Yes mister, of late that's ALL I do. Its not that I want things to be like this, but somehow it is. I dont even get time to read. That kills me in a way. What is a writer if he doesnt read?

So at the end of this- am happier that one new post has been added to my blog. And while I was away at it, my kid who is doing his best to crawl, walk and sit at the same time, just rolled over and banged his head on the floor. Needless to say all his bawling and the tears running down his beautiful eyes were enough to make me feel guilty again. And for lunch am having a pizza. I know I will relish it today, but tomorrow when am back at the gym, I know am going to feel miserable thinking of how my one hour of sweating ahs only successfully burned up 300 of the 1000 calories. Guilt. I tell you, she is the one you want to watch out for !

Remembering...


A lot of events have happened since my last blog post. Obama won. And although he had my staunch support throughout the campaign, I am not so sure right now about him. Will India really benefit from having him around? Only time will tell. My baby boy also turned 6 months old, and successfully turned on his stomach all by himself. In fact he has become such a pro at it, that he turns anywhere.. even on the bed, which is by the way very dangerous. He makes minor attempts to crawl, and them decides that shrieking and making either parent carry him around is a lot more advantageous. I also went out for lunch with a neighbour who is Japanese. We had a good thai lunch and tried relishing it while balancing our respective babies on our laps. I also have been thinking about writing a book of short stories for children. Either that or a little book of poems for kids. I also have changed my favourite dessert from blueberry cheesecake to mango cheesecake, which is I swear the deliciousest thing to have ever graced a dessert plate. We have also finally finished up the bottle of red wine which was sitting around for I dont know how long. And baby and I are back to our evening walks which we both love a lot. We also bought our first christmas tree and even put it up. Its gorgeous..

The saddest event to have occured definetly was the Mumbai blasts. Its sadder to watch places I have gone to so many times, literally reduced to nothing or to see so many dead bodies strewn about in public places. For those few days we remained glued to our tv sets, too shocked to do anything else. The world mourned with Mumbai. As a poet, I can only do what I do best- raise an issue or pay tribute through a poem. Here is a poem in three parts in memory of those awful blasts and the departed...

REMEMBERING

1

They know just how to,

Leave me feeling so manipulated.

I want to believe that they want the best for me,

And yet that is the hardest part to believe.

They cajole me into paying my taxes,

For the betterment of the nation and society,

And yet,

Yesterday’s dregs , filth and poverty,

Lie all around me,

These things take time am told,

Yet I ask you.

If I were to die today,

Would they even care,

Will I be just another body,

Female, 5’10, big eyes, long nose,

Another name on the casualty list,

My whole life reduced to a few pages,

In a medical file?

They never once gave me an answer.

I am justified in feeling manipulated,

Just one somebody in a mass of somebodies,

My identity could have been anybody’s.

2

I sit swirling my coffee in the beautiful enameled cup.

Thinking about how life sucks,

Control from our hands,

To write out destiny in its own language,

One that we can barely speak or understand.

When they pointed the gun at my face,

I didn’t see my whole life flash before me,

I only saw its happiest moments,

And the most important people,

I merely blinked back at that,

Cold black life taker,

And realized that I hadn’t even,

Done any two of the things on my list of Must-Do’s,

Terrorism makes fools out of the wisest,

And brothers of people from different colors,

One person’s heartbeat to them meant,

Just another number on the hostage list,

Which mother would never see her son again,

Which daughter would never sit in the arms,

Of her papa again?

How does fate decide?

She merely plays dice.

Leaving some to die a bloody fate,

While others live to tell the tale.

In the end,

When they counted the number of dead bodies,

Mine was not among the lot.

3

For every tear drop that fell,

Every scream that resounded,

All the anguish that was felt,

As you held you dying mother in your arms,

As your daughter breathed her last on your lap,

As your husband breathed his last in your ear,

And felt your world break into a zillion pieces,

Not even one shard to hold on to,

With dreams for a better tomorrow,

I have only my pain that I felt,

When I see you weep, sob,

At the funeral that was happening,

All too soon.

Mumbai.

Hold your weeping children,

In your arms tonight,

Listen to their every tale of woe,

Gift them the resilience to fight,

The cruel unyielding foe.

If today be their darkest hour,

With the moon a ruby blood red,

From the heavens may a shower,

Of blessings and grace;

Touch them as they arise from bed.