Todo Pasa

So, I could not sleep today. Much coveted sleep. Much more coveted was the rare chance to sleep!

But still I could not.

"Sleep", has a different connotation for mothers! Especially if you are a mother of a toddler. Even more so, if you happen to have two in place of one, like yours truly! But, I actually got a chance today. Rare chance to nap, that too in the afternoon, all by myself. Family members taking care of both my toddlers, I could sneak in to my room just to sleep! No tiny hands strangling me in sleep, no small feet kicking me in holy abandon, no one trying to sleep on my pillow leaving the entire bed seem like an abandoned football ground.

And I could not sleep.

I missed those tiny hands, the tiny feet, the battle for the pillow. So much so that I came to my long forgotten best friend and started pouring my heart out. Yes, my blog. She has been waiting for me for two years to come back to her. And I didn’t come to her. I was busy ruffling the two unruly crops of hair, kissing them million times, wiping their tears when they fell while trying to walk, jump or run. Between cleaning poop, trying to feed, putting to sleep, I was busy discovering my own self. I was lost in the songs my two year old sings, holding my face and looking in to my eyes. I still am. I am maddeningly in love with a tiny voice which says “mamma, sho” ("lie down beside me", in Bengali), so that he can snuggle with me. I am busy savouring each moment of being a mom. Each tired, sleep deprived, blog forgotten, unsocial moment.

And I know this too shall pass. “Todo pasa y todo queda” (everything passes and everything stays). That’s the way life goes. Very soon, they will not need me the way they need me today. Their world will become so vast that "mamma" will be only a tiny part in it. The world of mittens and booties will be replaced by soccer shoes may be! The tiny hands that tug at my neck and my heart, will be holding books and pens and laptops and what not. My babies will become men one day, quite soon.

But till the day passes, I welcome one more sleepless night trying to fit in the bed with both of them. I look forward to the snuggles, the endless games of hide and seek, the endless feeding tantrums, the drawings on the walls, the scribblings on my notebook. Let me sing endless lullabies even when I am exhausted after a hard day at work. Let me love being a mommy of two naughty toddlers , just for some more time.

Precious moments, don’t go away so fast that I can’t blink my eyes, in fear that these fairy-tale moments will be all gone soon.

Time, wait for this silly mommy to grow up too!

To write or not to write

It has been a year since I touched my blog, quite literally. Reasons being manifold. Some were practical, like the never solvable issue of balancing time and priorities. But more than that, I realized off-late that it is actually a quasi-emotional, unanswered question in my mind that is bothering and stopping me to write. And perhaps to find an answer, I am back at the black buttons of my small system, listening carefully to the 'tut tut's of typing (yes, my obsolete system makes noise!) to find an answer. Writing has always been a way of thinking aloud for me.

The question that kept bothering me was why should I write at all! I am not a writer. I neither have a 'gift of writing', nor I have many people interested to read what I have to say! Then, (notwithstanding my dear brother's incessant motivation), why should I write! The more I pondered over the question, the more diverse questions unfolded in my mind. One of the most important among them: why do people write? These days, every other person seems to have a blog. Many, I guess, write to share or connect at a personal level. And when they have a gift of writing, its an absolute pleasure to read. Then there is a group of bloggers who blog about things they are good at. Makes for delightful readings again. I also know of many who have a blog because its fashionable or profitable to do so. Recently, I came across a salesman turned psychological counsellor who has a blog where he writes stuff profound! Don't get me wrong, I am not judgemental enough to find a conflict between a person's profession and 'passion' but it felt funny to read his advices on relationships when I happened to know that he isn't really great at interpersonal relationship himself! Big stuff written to attract clients eh! True, blogs are a good platform for marketing.

Now, why only blogs! These days everyone seems to turn a book writer and do great business too! And to my dismay, most of the authors are smart, fashionable, "could have been a model if not a writer" women! The jealous green eyed monster in me ogles in dismay as they pose happily in their ultra fashionable clothes and high-heels and ooze glamour! Add to that a gang of writers from IIMs and IITs! Successful in their professional world, earning big bucks and typing away and churning out novels from their Ipads and other gizmos. Oh my! whatever happened to my old world idea of writers who churn out stuff burning midnight oil, sitting in attics! Or whatever happened to Rainer Rilke's (the Austrian poet) advice to wannabe authors that one should write only when one wants nothing else in life. Or may be Hemingway's suggestion that to write one should sit down at the typewriter and bleed. Now, I could not identify myself in any of the categories. And looking at literary magazines these days which can give any fashion magazine a run for money any day, I guess my confidence took daily beatings and made the small clumsy writer in me hide in a corner!

But, as they say, old habits die hard. The magic of these black and white ramblings get to me at odd times! They find me when life greets me, they find me in my darkest hour and they also find me when I am lost in search of myself. So I closed all fancy literary magazines, stopped trying to analyse every blog that I stop by and also stopped taking Rilke or Hemingway's advice too seriously! And here I am, back at my silly small laptop, sitting beside my tiny baby, who might revolt anytime now for not getting enough attention for quite some time and typing away to Lord's glory. Because, I finally found my answer. I am writing because I love to write. Because writing finds me at odd times.
 So, whatever the reason whoever is writing,lets say cheers and lets carry on our love affair with writing. Writing, after all, is a way of talking without being interrupted (Jules Renard). So, lets keep the chatter on, with each other and with our own selves. Who knows, some day, some great stuff might come out from our pens (err keypads) too, which the world might want to listen to!

Of relations and relating!

Few days back, I came across one of Osho's saying, where he said love is about relating and not about relationships. This got me thinking and finally the whispers in my head became so loud that I had to pen it down!

Much ado has been made about love and relationships, esp the romantic man-woman love and I am no different to not try and have my share of voice on this topic! :)

So yes, when Osho said love is about relating to someone and not about a relationship, I paused a bit and looked around and within! True, in our unwise mind, love is always equated with a relationship. From our childhood, we nurture the fantasy of falling in love and getting married (may not be always in that order). Somehow, love without a sense of permanency, leaves us feeling insecure. We desperately need a "relationship", a socially approved one if possible. So much so, that we forget the basic fact, that love is actually about relating unconditionally to some one. Relating to some ones joys, sorrows, pain, insecurities, weaknesses and many subtle shades of emotion!

As I look around me, I find relationships where people do not relate to each other at all! For e.g- what would you say when a wife cant share the salary hike she received at work place with her husband! They have stopped relating to each others success, joys perhaps long back! But still they are in a so called successful relationship....a marriage lasting for years! Or may be where the partner accuses the other half of flirting with every one of the opposite sex and still continues to be in that relationship! Are they relating to each other! Or what happens when a person who used to be the wind beneath the wings of another, turns only interested to clip the wings after they are in a "relationship"! Is it because they transitioned from relating to each other to a relationship! Well, I am no spiritual guru and forget answers, I do not even have the questions correct most of the times! But I am so tired of seeing relationships all around me where people actually do not relate to each other at all, ready to tear apart each other, not hesitating for a moment to insult and abuse! I wonder what is the point of intimacy, emotional or otherwise, where there is no respect, where you cant trust unconditionally, where you cant reach out even without being called! Are we only in love with the idea of love and rest is all a matter of convenience, including relationships!

May the Almighty give all of us enough love to never stop relating to our loved ones, beyond the tag of a relationship!

Amen! :)

"There are no strangers here; Only friends you haven't yet met"

A mop of white hair neatly tied in a bun, shriveled skin, feeble voice and tentative steps; that is how I remember her! It was a flight from Bangalore to Kolkata and she was sitting next to me. She must have been over 70 and not quite "well dressed".

I generally prefer not to talk to strangers, esp on flights. The reasons are manifold. One of them is that though I am quite fond of instant coffee and other instant food items, I do not believe in "instant friendships" :). And the other very prominent reason being, my abhorrence to the typical Indian way of trying lurk in to your life, even given a chance of a frivolous conversation on weather and sports! So, I cling to the book in hand with all might and avoid all conversations, even at the cost of being judged "snooty"!

So, when I went and sat next to her, my only impression was that of an usual elderly lady, who will be willing to talk all the way till the plane lands and whom I must avoid. I was passing through one of the turbulent phases of my life that time and was in no mood to hear the usual story of  "successful IT professional son settled in Bangalore" or worse still "daughter married to successful IT professional settled in Bangalore" from a proud Bengali parent. Well, no offence meant to anyone, but that is what generally is the conversation thread if you do get bundled up in a Bangalore Kolkata flight, sitting next to an elderly lady!

So it was uncanny when she didn't make an attempt to talk even after almost an hour of take off and rather out came an Agatha Cristie novel from her purse! Yes, it was a surprise. I might have expected a Bengali daily or a weekly magazine but surely not an Agatha Cristie book. She intrigued me more because though she herself reminded me of the Bengali version of miss Marple, she wasn't reading any of her fictional works. It was "Come, tell me how you live", the autobiography of Agatha Cristie, that she was reading! And yes, Agatha Cristie broke the ice between us and we started talking.

It turned out that she was avid reader and spoke impeccable English, again not something that I would have expected. And, in next one and a half hours of flight time she broke quite a few of  my assumptions. For one, she never asked me beyond where I stayed in Bangalore. No, not even what I do for a living or whether I am married or not! And yes, she did have one daughter who stayed in Bangalore but again nothing beyond that. Never spoke about why she was travelling alone or where she lived. But we did talk about Agatha Cristie, P.G. Wodehouse and some famous Bengali authors like Ashapurna Devi and Shirshendu Mukhopadhaya. She turned out to be a retired school teacher. In no time our conversations turned towards philosophies of Life. Though we didn't discuss about our personal lives and nor she gave me any unsolicited advice, she said something that I will always remember. She said that with all the years that has gone on making all her hair white, she has only learnt one thing: no point in "trying" to be happy, no point in pursuing happiness. Life will unfold itself with all its color like a kaleidoscope if only you know how to turn the leaves, if only you know how to "be" in it!
Not soon after this, it was time for landing and since she was using special assistance from the airlines, she was wheeled out on the wheel chair first.

I didnt get a chance to ask her name or address. And for the first time I realized how much value an interaction with a stranger can also bring! I was humbled and was also embarrassed because I had judged her in the beginning.

In that particularly troubled phase of my life, some her words of wisdom struck a chord and helped me perhaps more than that of many a solicited advice. People say that God has strange ways of showing you the way only if you look out! I have often wondered if this interaction with a stranger was one such! I have often searched for her in all Kolkata bound flights since then, whenever I have traveled  but never found her again.

But one thing is for sure, I have opened up more to conversations with strangers since then. Though I agree, most of the times it is still the same proud moms of software engineers or bored housewives who are eager to talk, but hey, no harm in looking around! :) You never know what lessons of Life you might get to learn  from even a casual encounter!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

The end, which was the beginning

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

It was a classroom full of young girls. Girls of about 16 years of age. Some pony tailed, some pimpled and all smiling. As I close my eyes, I can easily be transported in that summer afternoon, the last day of our high school, just before our board exams. I don't remember who had sneaked in a camera that day. Because, some 19 years back, in a school where most students were from Bengali middle class families, cameras were a rarity! But thankfully, for that very simple non-digital camera, one of the most precious moments of my life got captured, forever!

 Yes, this is the photograph taken on the last day of our high school. After that day, depending on our marks and interests, we would be drifting in different streams, may be different schools or colleges. In an age where mobiles were not heard of and telephones at home were only for the rich, this day almost meant end of many friendships, many associations. Well, ten years of association is a hard thing to let go. Familiar faces, the feeling of security once we were inside the big walls that used to look ominous then, the teachers who scolded us and loved us, the nooks and corners where secrets were shared, confessions were made about first crushes; it was uncertain if it was a time to let go of all of it!

All of us had sang a Tagore song after the picture was taken: 'Purano shei diner katha, bhulbi ki re...", which in English means something like how can we forget the dear memories of past. And after that we had all broken down in silent,(and some not so silent) tears. We were still too young to understand that life was all about continuous change. We were still not prepared to face the hard fact that life is also a process of letting go, sometimes of most dearest things. I remember that we were all sitting at our desks even after the last bell rang! We were all in tears, hugging each other; touched by the gravity of the moment. Something was about to change. Wind of change was about to touch us. And there we were, poised with excitement and apprehension to turn the leaf of our first major chapter of life.

Today when I look at that snap, I only see the age of innocence. Oh, how happy we all looked. How carefree. Ready to take on the world, most of us still in utopia about what life is going to be. The adventure of adulthood was ahead of us. We were about to step out of the shelters of school and in to the big bad world. So many things unexplored yet. Life's kaleidoscope was about to turn. And here was a group of girls, waiting with bated breath for "Life" to unfold.

Almost 19 years have passed since then. I don't know why, even today when I look at this snap, it fills me with a strange sense of happiness and even strength! Is it because I still can palpably feel the strength of innocence, of  unconditional faith in goodness, which sometimes is so difficult to touch-base with in my life today! May be!

Hasta la vista, dear Daddy

Father's day came and went last month. Generally, all such days do not even cause slightest ripple in my mind. But strangely, this time, it made me remember my father. My father who left us last November. With so many people posting comments in facebook about their father being their hero, it made me think about my father, about things that I have learnt from him, about my love and gratitude which perhaps I could never express adequately. And though blogposts are not really a platform to share personal feelings, I had to give them a rightful vent. After all, it is kind of my own e-diary!

My dad was not my hero. That role was always played by mom :). In fact what my dad taught me, what I learnt from him has started to emerge only after he passed away! Till the time he was alive, he was always a source of unconditional love and affection with a kind of role reversal between him and me in his last couple of years.

As the intense pain and denial is passing away, as I am letting go of the images of my ailing, struggling father on ventilator, I am starting to remember him, think of him as he used to be in his prime and now I realize what I learnt from him.

Well, my father taught me to smile. He taught me to be happy even when things were not perfect. Without giving me lectures, without ever admonishing, he taught me this very important lesson with all his life.

His expectations were always minimal from me. He never ever asked me to do well in exams, to earn well, to make my mark in life. But he did ask me to be happy. Many a times he used to ask me to smile when I would get angry or agitated. He was a fun person to be with. Seldom speaking about his tribulations, his expectations, he was always loving us. I know he felt inadequate many a times and fumbled with so many things when he was growing old and struggling with his failing health. But he never used to show any of it. Affable, funny and lively- he struck a chord with whomever he interacted. His smile touched everybody. His love for life was immense.

He often used to say "hasta la vista"("see you later" in Spanish) and wave at me when I would leave him for going to work when he would be staying with us in Bangalore. But it was finally me, who had to say goodbye to him, without a hope of meeting ever again.

I wish I could give you more reasons to smile Baba. I wish I could ease off all your pain. I could not. I know you have forgiven me for all my failings. And I promise Baba, I will always remeber your happy, smiling face, the image of you posing smartly with my college friends for a snap, you waving me good bye from my balcony, you saying "hasta la vista" smilingly to me.

Baba I will always miss you, but I promise I will never let go of the values you taught me without ever speaking a word! Father's day or not, I will always carry you in my heart.

Keep walking, my friend

Recently a song from the recent hindi movie, Ek Main Aur Ek Tu caught my attention so much that it is forcing its way to my blog post! :)

It goes something like this

"Jo hua hai woh hota hain, jo hona hain woh hona hain,
jo tere bas mein baatein hain, unhe khamokha kyun khona hain...
jitni bhi hain umeed  leke, jaye kahan tak rastein dekhe...
kar chalna shuru tu, mud ke na dekh tu..."

Its so true..life is nothing but a journey! A journey which ultimately leads to finding your own self! Whether you get someone to walk side by side with you or not, you got to make the journey. Now, how many of us really take this journey being aware of it! Most of us are kind of sleep walking through it! Not knowing which path we are taking, overlooking the beauty of the road. It is true that most of the times we are not sure where the road will ultimately lead us, and sometimes we are even confused as to where we want to finally end up! But as long as we know where we don't want to end up, I guess the journey is an ever interesting one!

It is important to take that one small step which makes you embark on the journey of finding yourself! Its important to break free if anything is holding back your spirit. It might boil down to something as small as starting on the dance lessons that you so wanted for ages, or may be starting to write without the fear of being criticized or may be taking up that tough job which you always eyed but never had the guts to take up or may be something as simple as learning to drive! Dreams need to be alive. Life cannot be just living but feeling alive! :)

It is true that every time every aspiration can't be fulfilled, every dream can't come true either. But the fun lies in loving every effort that you put in and its an amazing feeling to try to touch the intangible and delve deep within to find your dreams!

May we never be afraid of this journey called Life and love to keep walking! May we all become like Sindbad the sailor who was never afraid to chase his dreams! And if we are fortunate enough, we might find a friend, a loved one to hold hands and walk side by side, if not, we will still have the satisfaction of making this journey and Life itself will become our greatest muse!