Just so I don’t forget

You’re asleep and while I should be picking up after you and getting things into place, I rarely ever do. This is my time of just me and maybe a beer if my heart desires, yes, even at day time. I’ve tried the picking up and clearing up after you every time you slept. It didn’t work. I was left tired and even more irritable. Clean, beautifully kept houses; yes, I love. But when it already feels like things are in place, mess and all, there’s no pressure for me to meet standards of people I’m never going to meet. After all, have you ever seen a spic and span house with a baby living in it?

You’re my purpose, I can’t stress that enough. I love being with you despite just how exhausted I am at the end of each and every day. My body is unkempt and my feet could really do with a pedicure, and perhaps I will when I really wish to get one done, but I love spending my time with you.

My life is at that phase right now where it aligns only with you. And your papa of course. And your nani and mama too, since we’re here. I dislike looking at my body, my clothes don’t fit, my flab as stubborn, if not more, to cling on.

But this is my life in this now. This now where I am here for you. For your laughs and gurgles. For your (absolutely senseless to me) meltdowns. For your cuddles. For your mischief. For your help; oh how I love it when we do things together. For all the times we cook, clean, iron, do laundry, fold clothes, dust together. For getting ready together. For barging into the loo when I’m in only because, well, I rationalise, you want to learn how we brush our teeth, and use the pot.

My now is you in all your totality. All the madness. All the learning. All the immense joy. All the patience. All the times I lose my shit and you yours. All the times we pick each other up so spontaneously and naturally. All the times you show me just how much you observe and listen. All the times we read together and name body parts together and read crazy difficult words like alligator instead of apple for A.

You speak in English, Hindi, and gibberish which is you learning Kannada. You speak in sentences minus the articles. Papa gone office. Mamma tired. Fwimming (swimming) pool toys ball catching falling water. Nani office. Shamat (how you call your mama…the first ever name you pronounced on your own) going office. You say it all. And then lots more with your eyes, your frown, your smile, your irritating cries especially when you’re crying for the heck of it.

I love you. My darling child. Papa’s shona, Nani’s naughtoo momo, Shamat’s noodle pop…and my soul. I love you.

If I could…

… I’d be here every single day of the year, if not more, to let tumble out all that life has been about. There’s been zero writing despite the many beautiful sentences that weave themselves ever so intricately just when slumber laces my eyes at the end of each day…only to vanish the very next day, like a dream that’s so real because it was mine and in my very own words.

And then I’m left wishing I’d written more, especially when I look inward at the times when everything around me is still and silent. I’ve been able to do that thankfully…to immerse myself in experiences that have been mine over the past year. Specific details may evade me, but I feel hopeful enough to believe that life’s lessons and ways are more than just passing calendar days.

My baby is growing up faster than I envisioned or even wished. Before I knew it, she’d tumbled right into toddlerhood and I didn’t even get a chance to hold on to her babyhood…her tiny being whose birth birthed a new me. But that’s the thing with being a mother…your baby always remains your baby until you shake yourself off and realise you’ve to grow up and walk the new path that time lays out for both of you.

I miss her babyhood. Her gurgles. Her chubbiness. Her small body that my body created (and I stick firm on this debate my husband and I were having about a woman being the sole creator vs her body being a haven for the baby to come into its own being). I miss being able to hold her entirely in my arms…no spillage, no kicking, no desperation to break free and do all that a toddler loves doing. I love this current phase just as much…but allow me to wallow in sentimentality.

The thing I’ve come to realise through this whole journey in general and my absence in specific is just how invested I’ve made myself be. There seems to be no other inlet or outlet barring the necessities for sanity and survival. I can’t seem to want it any other way, I beamed the other day when my phone sent me my weekly usage — which I must share was 0 minutes on an average. I honestly couldn’t have been more chuffed. But you know it’s more than just being away from the phone. It’s insane amounts of work. Work that I love doing at the cost of compromised hours of sleep. My razor is my new best friend, Modern Family my companion, my husband my cushion, my cooking my therapy…and my baby my everything.

When I look back, it’s been a massive year at all fronts. We’ve relocated cities, there’s a wedding in the family, we’re settling in, there’s insane amounts of work that’s underway…and in this rush I find my stillness. I’ve been taught the meaning of letting go and actually having to let go. I’ve been shown adversity that I’ve known more seriously of as a child, but when you’re an adult who has her own family, it’s a different ballgame. I’ve learnt to break through, to breathe, to smile, to move on.

Life is enriching in its lessons. There’s no way but up from rock bottom. And there’s no better place to be than in the embrace of faith and hope. I’m here even though I’m not. And I know you know it’s okay. :)

How have you been, my friend?

See?

I’ve started something new. Becoming a mother has brought so much my way, and while I’ve been turning to (mostly) nocturnal Instagramming, I’ve been wanting to do this for such a long time now. Do stop by and spread some love too?

The new blog can be found here at Mamma Babska.

Thank you! :)

158: I Wake Up To…

…the sight of bright, pink lilies.

…the silence of a home that’s just about waking up.

…the gentle sound of rustling leaves.

…the smell of freshly brewed tea and coffee…and baked cake.

…the luxury of feeling at home, a place where I come from, and belong to.

…the gentleness of ma’s care and love.

…the joy of living life like it should be lived.

Hi Hi Hi!

Dear reader, 

I (optimistically) hope that my absence here has been as pronounced to you, as it has been to me. Sometimes I wonder if this happens, almost by default if I may, when I’ve specifically decided to be regular over here (hahaha, the irony!). But then you and I know the more obvious answer — it being my just not showing up here, excuses aside. 

While my excuses are more or less valid, what with life keeping me on my toes thanks to family and friends visiting and staying, and most importantly, my daily lifeline – the laptop – taking an indefinite break, it’s been of sorts and more. 

I hope you’re doing well and are enjoying what is only the beginning of the best time of the year, in my opinion. My favourite month has arrived, and how. While being stuck to my phone is a regular part of my day, I find it cumbersomely annoying to blog via it. Do excuse me for typos I might miss on the way or blatant grammatical errors that traipse past me — after all, despite holding a GN (Grammar Nazi) rank (I’d like to believe I do hold one), I’d like to be more forgiving to myself on this space. 

I will try and write more…but if I’m away, do know it’s because my phone and I haven’t gotten along yet to write blog posts together. Sigh. 

Three Words

As I was rummaging through my media library yesterday, the idea of collating its filed photographs into a blog post made itself present. There was also this random and very enlightening thought that popped into my mind which also asks to be credited for this post. And it was just these three words which helped put it all together.

LIFE IS GOOD

 

Life has been kind and gentle, enlightening and guiding, loving and respectful, bright and colourful. When I look back, everything brims with love that can go around twice if it has to, laughter, joy, celebration, cheer, learning, experiences, movement, magic. It’s been nothing short of spectacular – the good has got us going, the bad has taught us to learn from the pages we turn. There’s so much magic everywhere, there’s so much thanks to give.

As The Day Passes…

…I realize that there still is so much to speak about and so much that is on my mind which I was unable to chalk out in my previous post.

It has a lot to do with all that’s going on around me; in my mind and outside of it. A lot that I somehow find difficult to articulate, and some that remains embedded in my consciousness, waiting for some release, whenever that will happen. I’m not pushing it. Perhaps my block stems from this, and more. But I’m not pushing that, either.

Somewhere in the middle of all this rubble, I stumbled upon yet another piece of news? – for the lack of a better word – yesterday.

It was of this five year old boy from Syria. He goes by the name Omran.

He and his family seem to have miraculously made it out of their now bombed house. Have you seen the video that’s doing the rounds online? You can’t miss it, this stunned child sitting on a markedly orange ambulance seat.

It broke my heart.

There’s so much going on; so much we see and so much we don’t see or even hear about. I’m one to share things I find interesting or relevant or important to my list of causes I try and support in my own way. But to share that video was just impossible. I couldn’t even try to think about sharing it — what’s the point, I ask myself? We seem to know that our world is falling apart at large, we seem to be in tears or heartbroken, we seem angry and distressed…but I think that video made me feel like we’d lost it all…it made me feel like we live in a world devoid of hope or even just peace…what do we call the least amount of peace on the spectrum of peace? Yes, we seem to have not even that.

Yesterday shattered some part of my reserve, my faith, my attitude.

But I’m still going to pray.

I believe that helps.

Let It Be

 

Playing loud and on loop for as long as it takes

to keep me dancing
to keep that much needed wind in my hair
to let those thoughts flow out and dissipate.

to jump, twist, turn
to let go and be carefree
to move, shake, go mad and just circulate.

More shenanigans on 25

The more I face and experience every day, the more I believe in being as selfish as my conscience allows me to be. Every day makes me want to do something about/with it that makes ME feel worth my while. It could be about having that plate of cheese burger and fries from our new stall at work or it could be about walking those extra 5 minutes or it could be about doing nothing or it could be about lying spread-eagle, adrift in whatever takes me away momentarily.


I’ve been going through a serious existential overhaul as has been evident from my previous posts. This is one such chapter from the same book. When you’re in a world that thinks about itself, you can’t really be the only moron to stand by and watch the world go by doing its own thing. You’ve got to pick your self up, figure where to go and then actually go. 


And go I did.


Or rather, going I am.


This overhaul is precisely what it stands for – a phase in which everything you believe in or stand by, crumbles. Literally. And you’re left wondering what the hell happened when you weren’t really looking. People came, people went, relationships changed, values got questioned, as did a lot more. And it’s baffling. Because not only are you astounded by the changes around you and within you, you also wonder whatever happened to everything you’ve held so dearly on to. 


We spend our life creating ideals of what should and should not be. We are certain of what love should be like, or what dating must be like, or marriage or parenting or whatever have you. Everything is so black and white sometimes. Or with me at least. It’s an all or none principle. You’re either in love or not, you’re either dating or not, you’re either friends or not, you’re either married or not. There are no 2 ways, or so I thought.


And this is what I mean by the world moving on. Or you getting left behind. Because all of a sudden, there are greys. You can be best friends but break rules you’d sworn by. You can be single but still have the best sex ever. More than twice. You can have options while being in the matrimonial line – dreaming of commitment with one, setting your sex life on fire with the other. I’m astounded by the amount of grey we live in. And it has become so convenient. There are no questions asked, no rules or codes adhered to, no nothing. The world does what it thinks is right to do. Perhaps it’s the way we’re all wired to be. Me first. Survival of the fittest, he called it. 


So given that we’ve moved from concrete, stable and awesome blacks and whites to a world of weird, twisted and interesting greys, what more can one do than to literally get off one’s ass and move on? 


I’m gonna grab that burger, munch on those fries, chew on my thoughts, lie around doing nothing sometimes, treat people as they deserve to be treated – I’m going to swivel my paintbrush around in these shades of greys, right in between the blacks and whites of my canvas. Because there’s really no looking back to something that has ceased to exist. 

More on 25

I’ve never felt so angst ridden in my entire life than I’ve been feeling off late. Angst that’s buried deep within the furrows of my every day. And I can’t seem to pin point why I’m feeling the way I am. 


They say age plays a large role. But what is age without the meaning you give it? Isn’t age supposed to just a number that rolls on by, faster than seems normal? Of course. But of course not. We’re not sheets of paper or calendar squares, boxed and marked off with every passing day.


There is such a deep rooted introspection that keeps going on, almost as naturally as breathing goes on. Effortless, guiltless, seamless. Whom does one trust. who’s been a friend who stood by, who cares, who doesn’t care, how much, how little, till when, where till…the list of permutations and combinations is endless. Like I said, they’re seamless.


I’ve been caught in the vortex, and all too suddenly, of what it actually feels like to be an adult. In the big, bad and crazy world. The games people play are astounding. The way life tests you almost shatters the ground you walk on. The way your entire worldview and belief systems sometimes come crashing down on you scar you.


And it just isn’t easy. It’s not something I ever thought would happen. But it’s something we all have to deal with at some point or the other.