Begin Again

                            

..and then words fell in love with me!

It was indeed a lazy summer afternoon. My little typhoon of five years fell asleep. It's a miracle but I don’t know how it happened. It was not a serious try for me to put him to sleep though I prayed hard for it. And God listened! So myself and my 10 year old daughter engaged in some girlie talk.

'Maa I would like to become a scientist, but then I love hair dressing too…' she started playing with her beautiful curly locks. I knew there was more to come… ‘what if I become an army officer like papa?’…I love history and want to become an historian and after that I will become an astronaut.’ She looked at me and wanted the assurance that I was hearing her with enough seriousness. I nodded and said, ‘’be good in whatever course or career you choose, we will always be there for you.’’ Well this egged her to probe more career options for future. ‘Best is that I become an artist. I love art and painting. I need to go for art tuition from tomorrow.’’ This was a sudden change of plan and I had to act fast. I said her, ‘what if I take your art class?’’

She was quiet. I tried to guess her reaction. Finally I said…’well then you are not keen to learn from me?’ ‘’Yes I am. Maa you were a journalist but hardly I see you write. I love to read the stories you wrote, but rarely you hold a pen now. Like my friends bost about their parents, I would also like to tell that my mother is a journalist, or a writer. I miss your unique stories..But…,”she fell quiet. But there was question in her innocent looks. I was stumped.

Late at night when children went off to sleep, I took out my old diary, moved my fingers on the worn out pages where I once wrote stories. I almost felt the words. I remembered my daughter’s curious and puzzled looks in the afternoon which silently asked me “Why?”….

In the starry and stilly night, I got the answer. My pen moved ..” It was indeed a lazy summer….

 

for another moving story on my dog- click here

Love peeps...

The morning rush was on. I scurried around the house for meeting various deadlines. Making sure bread pieces do not get an overtime in the toaster, pulling out my son from the shower, looking for my daughter’s school diary as she was unable to find it and all the time straining my ear to hear the first beep of her school bus.  My husband was completely aware of the conundrum between 6 am to 7 am. When at times he called during that period my so called “Love You, ”seemed to be like a howling on the phone.

“B—Y—E ..”..I said aloud from the kitchen as I heard a loud thud. My daughter left for school.  So now I geared up for Act II. V-r-o-o-m v-r-o-o-m ..aa-cc—ii---dd-e-n-t…my son screamed as he was busy playing with his hot wheels car. He was quite unawares of the time schedule. Its so natural for a five year old, yet I try to bribe God by offering extra ladoos and in return ask Him to make my son grow up fast.

It was almost 7 o’clock.  I had to keep pace with time. I fed him with one hand and buttoned his shirt with another. Well as you grow in the vocation of “Motherhood” you can master many such things. I call it Art of Motherhood- it just makes me feel better.  Next moment I was almost dragging him through the door and just then in the doorway the smell of rotten flowers hit me. I grabbed the bunch of yellow roses from the vase and prepared to throw it in the dustbin, just adjacent to the corridor.  

“Mumma…no don’t do. Papa sent those roses, you cannot throw them. You have to keep it,” pleaded my son. “But dear, the roses have withered away now, and we have to put them away,” I said as I firmly walked towards the dustbin. “No. Papa will be sad. ..if you throw it then I am not going to school. Those are papa’s flowers..my papa…,” he almost started crying. I was startled and in a fix. My husband sent the bouquet of beautiful yellow roses to me four days back. We celebrate every little event in our lives starting from the day we first held hands or first kiss. ( I know it sounds clichéd...) But now in such bustling life these have become a mere calendar events. Where we say things or just perform but neither hear or feel.

“Okay, I wont,” I told my son. He wiped his tears and almost instantly his face beamed with joy. As I dropped him at the bus stop my mind raced through different phases of my life.  I walked back into the house and placed bouquet where it was. The flowers have faded away, the stems have taken a brown colour from green. I looked at the flowers for an extra minute. Not even I enjoyed the sweet fragrance or marveled at their beauty when they were fresh.  When I received the bouquet I diligently put it in the vase. Ensured that my crystal vase should be kept in a safe place out of my children's reach . Every day we focus on living life, rearing up children, and even expressing love or making  phone calls - with a dash of perfection and sense of duty.

Until a voice , here my five year old son- urged me to feel the love he felt in withered away flowers.

A bit of Reír en voz alta

…..With zest and confidence he uttered ...”I will ensure that no one in this world gets away from me..” There was an obvious spark in Rob’s eyes and poise in the manner he spoke. As he was speaking Vivan entered the room and was quite taken aback by Rob’s words. He quizzically asked. ..Whats wrong with you Rob..”why such vengeance against the world? Planning to kill all?”

Ha! Ha !

We rolled in laughter sensing the humour. Vivan still stood dumbfounded and crossly looked at us. Rob was laughing hysterically. It all happened during the recess of our Spanish Language Learning Class. Rob controlled himself with great difficulty and said… “yaar dekh..they all asked me (pointing to us) why are you learning so many foreign languages?”

“ I can speak German, Italian, French, Russian and of course English Hindi and Punjabi…so I gave them the reply that I am eager to know all people in this world and if I donot know their language how do I communicate with them? So I am learning languages so that no one can escape from me..I gotto know all! Talk to all the people in the world..”…well ,  Vivan  gave a pleasant smile, too.

Nice way to put it Rob.

 

Brace for the odd ball

No one said that being a mom is like a windmill

Most of the schools ensure that vacations to be a torture for the parents. After my childrens’ vacation started, there was not a square inch of the floor left without cello tapes, chart papers, drawing sheets, erasers, pencils, sketch pens, marker pens , glue sticks, scissors and  colour pencils in all sizes. We live in a super modern world where in a corner laptop lay open and from within that Google kept on staring at me! Another corner and almost under the table I found Jai dabbling with water colours. His tiny hands were riot of colours. I dashed towards him with a squeal when he slyly attempted to make his handprints permanently on the wall! I was successful in thwarting his attempts on the wall but not on my face and just washed mane.(Atleast being spared the agony of answering the MES, the civic body responsible for maintaining Army Quarters). I felt happy and sad at the same time. No, sad actually. I felt yelling, “ooooooooooooofffffffffffff..noooooooo……MUUUUUUMMMMMMMYYYYYY.”..Just hoping magically maa should  appear from above and give me the manual to rear up my brats!

Just then, my daughter, scratching her head and with a painful look came up and asked,” Mom I have to write an essay , but I am unable to elaborate on the topic, so will you-----------” she stood there expecting me to fill in the blanks.

“What is the topic?’

“What will you do if you were a bird…”, she said in the most uninteresting voice.

“But dear can’t you write a few lines on that? Use your imagination..its not tough,”..she still stood leaning to the refrigerator and staring outside towards the balcony where a pigeon happily moving around bobbing its head.  Probably she was thinking of asking the pigeon that what is it like being a winged creature…well the dreary look in her face atleast suggested so.



Eggs of fancy and heartbreak

The confidence about my children were about to hit rock bottom ( attimes I felt that they would do great, and mostly though I thought they are hopeless, helpless), my son with a shockingly painted face came out from under the table. Sensing the trouble he wanted to win brownie points (he very often does the same), “ Mummy, you know if I were a bird what would I do?,”. Interestingly I looked at him and somehow thought that this boy will make me proud with his imaginative power someday. I noticed Juhi . She was looking at the ceiling (what was she thinking?). Just then Jai blurted out,…..''If I was a bird I would have laid eggs, many eggs, many many eggs..see maa..I am looking like a peacock now, with so many colours on me and now I am laying eggs…see …,'' and he posed for the act.  Juhi burst out into laughter and with a double blow in my heart…I laughed it out too.