Raising Kids – Battle of the sexes.

Parenting is a tough job. Let me correct that – it is the toughest job in the world. Men and woman have different notions of how to raise kids.

My husband is a hands-on dad, I wouldn't have been happy any other way. He dotes on our little one and does all things a ‘normal’ dad wouldn't do. He loves playing with our son after a grueling day at office; he makes bath time fun and gets him ready to go to school. Needless to say I am the villain of the house even though I spend more time with my son during the day.

But there are certain things that women do differently from men. There is no wrong and right way to do things, just different ways.

1.        Moms, while putting their child to sleep will talk to them, pray with them or sing them a lullaby. Daddies will show them the latest crashes of WRC (World Racing Championship) on YouTube on their smartphones.
2.        Moms will brush their teeth along with the child to show the correct way to oral hygiene; however daddy dearest will wait for him to finish, before he starts his own morning schedule. Because multi-tasking is a sin.
3.        Recently, while seeing the animated movie Monster Inc., we saw that the main character leaves the child back in her bedroom and the child is visibly upset at him leaving. When my son asked what happened, daddy dearest says- oh he is coming back don’t worry. I on the other hand told him the truth that the monster is leaving her and has to go to his home. I know that my son knows he won’t be abandoned by us but he should be ready to recognize that abandonment does happen.
4.        During meal times, patience levels are tested. Moms will ensure that within one hour, the meal is over. Daddy will prolong the meal, sometimes running after the child to make him eat.
5.        Daddy dearest will coax the child to sleep in the afternoon by playing with him and make him super active right before sleeping time; moms will just start the sleep timer on the TV and let technology do the rest. They don’t call me the villain just like that, you know.
6.        We go to a mall. Now this is the true test of a man vs. woman parenting. My son wants that toy car, toy gun, and that red shiny whistle also. I look at him with a straight face and tell him – “You have these at home”. He pleads, hands folded, droopy eyes, sad face the works. I start walking and the show continues. Daddy dearest, on the other hand goes and buys him a small toy, only when he has started joining his hands.
7.        We normally have a good cop, bad cop routine in our home. While dressing up for school, I am generally the one who is the bad cop. Somehow that works because we both want the same thing for him i.e. to be dressed for school. My son insists on one over the other. Sometimes I am the lucky one and he wants only Mommy.

The bottom line is, we both love our son like any set of parents would. We think we know what’s best for him and we try to imitate our parents while we are ourselves are learning parenthood. In his childhood, we try to find our own individual traits. Because of him we have realized our shortcomings and strengths as they are reflected in his personality. So even though we may agree to disagree on a lot of things, my child is loved and he knows it every single day. And that’s what should matter, shouldn't it?

K

7^th January 2014.

Fairy Wings- Non Fiction

The lift door opens and I see you standing there with some bags. We run to you and hug you and somehow the tears don’t stop. That familiar hug and huge cry is all that matters then. I don’t want to ever let you go. But you are struggling with the bags and try to push us away.

“Girls what happened, why are you crying? I had just been gone for a short while”. You push us away and go meet the other family members; everywhere I see everyone’s happy again. Then you come and sit with us and we tell you that it’s time to take your medicines. You look at us confused. “Medicine? What medicine?” And that’s when we notice that there are no dark circles under your eyes any more. You skin is fairer and smoother. No one tells you about what happened a year back.

I hear the familiar ring and my eyes open… and just like that, you are gone again, Ma. I try going back to sleep, but alas you are gone. And just like that, 25th February 2013 became a reality.

When my son wakes up and sometimes his eyes are webbed with eye mucus, while washing his face I tell him that a fairy had come left her wings behind on his eyes. Today, when I woke up, I had my eyes webbed completely. My fairy had probably kissed them shut.

It’s going to be a year and nothing has been able to fill that gap. Neither chocolates or alcohol or even weekend getaways help us forget.

We just have to close our eyes and the last picture of you lying on that stone is what appears.

Hope your dark circles and all your pain is gone; may you smile on us always.

Love you

From The Girls

K

20^th February, 2014.

Love, Unconditionally

So Valentine’s Day is finally over. Thank god.

There are multiple reasons why I don’t believe in this day. One of them being, I grew up.

Let me take you back 16 years, I was a teenager, in love with the man who is now my husband. Let’s call him Mr. H.

In those days, the newspapers used to advertise and ask readers to write in their love message and they would give away some prize. I wrote to the newspaper and my ad was printed and I did win some voucher at some restaurant whose name I can’t recollect. Since we were broke, that was my gift to him. My love was written out in black and white for the world to see, not a care in the world I had. Except maybe it was anonymous, so my parents never knew. Then we decided not to use the coupons but to hang out at our regular joint for Chinese food.

I got all dressed up in pants, if I recollect it right, and a jacket that fitted well. Now, we were teenagers so we didn't know about booking tables or reservations and the likes. So we reached our favorite restaurant Chung Fa at Breach candy, and we thought that we being regulars, we could easily get a place. We waited for something like an hour or more. As a teenager, I had deadlines so I had to be home by 9 but it being Valentine’s Day I had negotiated with my parents a deadline of 10. We got a seat at 9.15 even though we arrived at 8.00. So there I was fuming not at Mr. H, but at the restaurant manager who was also astonished with the crowd that had turned up. Everywhere I looked while waiting, were red roses, red cards and red dresses. From there started my hatred towards wearing red on Valentine’s Day. We finally get a seat and Mr. H was also nervous as he had not expected the evening to go downhill even further. We ordered the usual and the soup took another 30 minutes to arrive. That meant that i had 15 mins to get home. Mr. H was hungry but he understood my dilemma and we parceled the food and I was able to reach home just in time. My mother always used to stay awake till I reached home so I know she must have been tired as she had to go to work the next day and was probably waiting to hit the sack. I felt guilty about making her wait and thus started my hatred for Valentine’s Day.

Thereafter, every Valentine I made it a point, while I was at work, to wear black to protest. For me this became any other day. Then the internet happened and all the mushy quotes and the Valentine messages were all over everyone’s wall. The once written poem in black and white was splashed across timelines and pages. I sometimes miss that part about Valentine, waiting for the newspaper to read how innovative each message could get. The anticipation of winning and the joy on the face of your Valentine as he read it, all lost in the click of a mouse.

Valentine’s Day today has become the most commercialized festival, if one can call it a festival. Advertising with slogans such as “Show her you care with diamonds”; “Seal your love with a strong bond- Platinum rings”; “Make her fall in love with you again” actually  show that the occasion is just about shoving jewelry down a woman’s throat will keep her satisfied. If only it were true.

Love is really a chemical reaction in the brain. Love is all around u. When your are born, then the love of your mother is the first love you experience, followed by that of your father. If you have siblings, then you have the love-hate kind of relationship. Then when you move on in life, relationships come and go then you dedicate your life to loving one person and focusing all your energy on them. But Valentine’s Day only recognizes the love of the last kind instead of the ones that gave you life.

I always believed in one thing about love – a parent’s love for their child is unconditional. All other kinds of love generally have a condition and have to be sealed by law and by religion. If you have been blessed with parental love, then remember to appreciate them instead on the next Valentine’s Day. You never know, they may not have many more Valentine’s Days left.

K

15^th February 2014.

Nurture- Short Story

Even after eight years they still looked out for each other. Their breakfast was always their ‘us- time’. Pheroze talked of his job at the airline as cabin crew... He told Delnaz stories about people who were rude to him and also of people who were thankful. Delnaz enjoyed all that banter. She was a fashion magazine editor. She secretly wanted to be a writer and Pheroze’s stories provided the dose of imagination that she needed to make up stories in her head.

Her job required her to travel. She tried to book a flight on the airline Pheroze worked in so she could spend some time with him on flights. There was no shortage of love between them. All they needed was another person to share the love with.

They loved kids and wanted at least one of their own. They had tried all methods but without any success. They didn't let it affect them.

After much deliberation, they decided to go for adoption. They registered themselves and were placed in the waiting list after all the checks about their character were completed.

They waited and waited. It had been two years.

Pheroze could see the toll the prospect of adoption was taking, on her face. He never left hope. He knew they would make excellent parents and the baby was just waiting for the right time to arrive.

The phone rang one October morning, while they were at the breakfast table. It was the adoption agency. They had a young mother who wanted to give up her unborn child up for adoption. The toast slipped from his hand and he grabbed Delnaz and gave her the news. Her face lit up and they both couldn't stop the tears from flowing. They had to go the next day to meet the woman who was going to give them what they wanted.

They were at the hospital, where Khushi had come for a checkup. As they looked at her, they couldn't help but be alarmed. Khushi was barely 18 years old. She was a teenage mother who had made some bad choices. But she was smiling as she approached them, and held out her hand in order to greet them. They introduced themselves even though the adoption agency would have shown their file to her. Pheroze asked if everything was alright with the child and Khushi nodded. They met several times after that. And then the day came when Khushi went into labor.

The labor was intense. Khushi’s frame was small due to her age. Both Pheroze and Delnaz were pacing outside the delivery room like nervous parents should. They heard a wail and stopped pacing. Their child was here. The doctor came out after what seemed like an eternity and told them it was a girl. They asked about Khushi and how she was, the doctor assured them that she was stable and she would be coming out shortly with the child.

Khushi was tired and woke up late in the evening; both Pheroze and Delnaz had been there for her. The doctor came and certified that everything was normal and the child could be discharged the day after tomorrow. Khushi had two nights with her. It tore her heart that the child she wanted, she had to give up. That night she held her. Oh how stupid she had been to fall in love with that moron Rohinton. He had promised her the world; made false promises. Not once had he inquired about her health or that of the baby in the last nine months. She held her love in her arms, and imagined her life with her child only if she had her after 5 years or so. She was having second thoughts and wanted to keep her. The day of discharge arrived. Khushi held her for the last time. She didn't want to let go but she knew Delnaz had waited for this day more than her. Her child had chosen Delnaz .She kept her promise and gave up her love once again.

Such is the way of life. Neither Abortion or Adoptions are not always so simple. Adoption is not always about whose child you receive. It’s also about giving up a child who you want to hold on to but can’t.

Nurture

K

1/16/2014

Pure Happiness

Have you ever experienced PURE Happiness, the unadulterated feeling of joy?

Recently, I attended my son’s first official sports day at his school. The week before, he had been excitedly practicing running at his school, at the playground, even at home, running from one room to another. As a mother, my worry was primarily, he injuring himself, so I cautioned him to always run in a straight line i.e. not to overstep into the other contestants’ tracks. My son, of all three years, understood but never acknowledged it.

So when we reach the venue of the sports day, he gets overwhelmed with the huge crowd of anxious parents and charged up classmates. We are seated separately, so that makes him more insecure. However the celebrations start and he is enjoying the band playing and he watches the balloons fly away as a mark of commencement of his first Sports Day.

I see a lot of parents trying to grab the perfect seat on the ground to catch a glimpse of their child. However, once the race starts, there is some excitement in the air as the crowd cheers for every child unknowingly and makes each one feel more confident about facing a bigger audience. I watch as my son starts his stretching exercise, which I am sure his teachers must have shown him in the previous week. Then comes the time of the race and he takes his place in the last row, waving out to me. I indicate to him to listen to the coach when he says go instead. Since he is only three years old, he is caught up in the energy of the ground. I am silently praying to god to just keep him safe, because I really don’t care if he doesn't win - only want him injury free.

So there he is waving to me and the coach indicates to the class to get set and go! And he runs, he runs as if he doesn't care if he is going to win. He runs and all I can do is watch how he maintains his pace in his own track, just like I had told him and he WINS. He comes third. That moment when he is running and he wins, that exact moment is when I felt pure happiness, as if the surrounding cheering parents meant nothing, as if everything was in slow motion and in that one minute I have experienced so much of joy. Then he looks up at me and shows me the thumbs up sign indicating that he is also happy. But for him, the win is not important, he got to run in his favorite shoes and with his heart and that’s what freedom felt like for him. As I look back and ponder, even if he didn't win the race I would be very happy because I was a part of his freedom. I was part of his joy and he was happy because he loved doing what his heart desired.

Before the race started I didn't think there was going to be any winners, as I felt the children were too young to be exposed to competition. But I realized that even though the rest of the children didn't win the certificate, they were still jumping and running around with their friends. Competition was only in the minds of the parents I guess and never among the kids. This may change once they grow up, but I hope I can help him in his failures as much as I did rejoice in his success.

K

3^rd January, 2014.

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To vote or forever remain Silent

India is going through what we call a political turmoil. It wants to change. It wants to be a super power. But from the time it has got independence till date, not much can be said about the progress of India. Yes, we have expanded. We have built monorails, metros, bridges, dams, cities with high rises but at the cost of corruption. Every month or so there is some minister who is caught in a scam of not just a few lakhs of rupees but a crores of rupees, all in the guise of development. I don’t want to bore you with the details of scams but let’s face it - India is fed up. It is grabbing the monster of corruption and brutally assaulting it with all its might. The people have spoken and either we change or forever keep silent.

Let me give you an ABC of the political situation in India. My view only! We have three major parties campaigning, one is the Congress which already has lost the election in the capital and has failed miserably in garnering any support. Then there is the BJP which has a lot of experience in politics, both good and bad. And lastly we have the AAP which was formed one year ago by a common man fed up with the system. So that’s the ABC of Politics i.e. AAP, BJP, and Congress. Now out of the three, only AAP and BJP have the power to make the changes as the ruling Congress has proved beyond doubt that not only is it incapable of managing the country, it can’t manage its own ministers.

The nation currently is divided among these two groups. Social media is feeding this frenzy. Discussion about these two parties’ head honchos is being talked about more than Bill Clinton’s affairs gone public. At parties, coffee breaks, office lunch’s people are clearly divided between these two parties. Now if only someone would have used so much energy we would have started cleanup operation much faster. Even Indians residing outside India are jumping on the wagon, even though any changes in policy may not make any more changes for them. But let’s appreciate the fact that their love for the country still remains.

Due to this passionate environment, a new set of fanatics has risen from this sleepy country.

The definition of a fanatic is - A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.

Earlier politics was only about getting a holiday and going to vote. Now it’s about the right to vote. People from all levels of society are scrutinizing every minister, every law, exposing malpractices. People have formed groups and now are so fanatical about their candidate that even if the candidate does something wrong they are willing to overlook it.

The bottom line is this we all want India to change but our personal differences may win again. History has shown that politicians feed on the divide and rule policy. Earlier we were divided by religion and now we are divided by politics. Only when we realize that standing with each other and questioning each candidate will we be able to make this country worth living for our future generations.

Whom do I support? Well that’s another blog all together.

K

28^th December 2013.

Remorse- Short Story

Rakesh had killed many times.  He had no remorse. His job required him not to have any.  But this time he was going to plan it.

Anita, his wife of 20 years had been lying to him. He had seen her with him. Things hadn’t been the same since their only daughter moved to a boarding school two years ago. There was no one to take care of her here and they had no choice but to send her off to a distance place to be raised with better values than the ones already running in her veins.

Anita used to be his strength and now was his weakness. He had confronted her about the man she had been seeing. She told him that they were just friends. Friends didn't walk with hands entwined. She promised she wouldn't meet him but here she was again, crossing the railways tracks with him, in broad daylight without a care in the world. She was mocking him on his turf.

Rakesh knew that she always took the morning local at 6.00am to go to Andheri, the place she worked. For that she had to leave early from her house and cross the tracks, even though there was a foot over bridge just five minutes away. He had repeatedly warned her not to cross tracks in the morning as there was low visibility, but she had paid no heed.

Rakesh had been following her every day for the last month. He calculated and recalculated the time that she crossed the tracks, every delay taken into account. He checked and rechecked the times of the trains that passed. She always used to wear headphones listening to the morning arti (hymns) on radio while walking. He waited for the roster to change for him to get the morning shift. Today was that day.

It was a cold January morning. He had bought her a dark brown sari the night before. It was their 21^st anniversary. She had smiled and accepted it and said that she would wear it the next day to work. He went to work early. Before leaving he watched her sleep and tried to capture the moment as this could be the last day he was seeing her. He left without a sound, signed the muster at the office and started his work. He had to finish some paperwork from the day before; he wrapped that up quickly and took his seat in the train.

He didn't want to raise any suspicion in case there was an investigation. It would be hard, not impossible though to convince the cops, if he was the driver of the ill-fated train. He could see the headlines in the newspapers “Railway driver kills his own”. Most would dismiss it as destiny or a case of bad luck.

 Rakesh took his seat as the guard at the back of the train and signaled to the driver Kunal in front that he was ready. The train started crossing stations. Soon it was his station, where he lived. He knew he could delay the train to the exact moment. He called Anita. She was on her way. The train approached his station and halted. Before the train departed, he had to delay the train. He radioed Kunal ahead that he wasn’t feeling too well and just wanted to get a lemon juice from the railway stalls. He quickly disembarked and went to the stall and wasted three minutes. He looked at his watch. It was time. He ran quickly and signaled again to Kunal to start the train. As the train approached the tracks, he could see only two or four people trying to run across. And then he saw her in the distance. She had her headphones on so she couldn’t hear the train, something he had warned her against. She made her way towards the tracks, crossing one track at a time and finally to the one he presumed she would be on. Since the track had a turn, he couldn’t see if she had reached the track his train was on but he heard Kunal blow the horn and he knew that it must have been to signal whoever was crossing, to get out of the way. His compartment approached the curve and his radio beeped and Kunal said. “Some idiotic people are still trying to cross the tracks so early in the morning, I just missed someone” As the radio stopped crackling, he looked towards the tracks behind and saw Anita and she saw Rakesh.  Besides her was a stranger who had just pulled her back in time.

She was saved and now Rakesh felt remorse.

*Remorse*

K

1/9/2014.