DEFAMATION

Hello blogpals, hope you liked my maiden article in Daijiworld. felt really good to see 60 plus comments in there and a note from the Editor asking for more! Can I ask for more? No pun intended there though..

Well I wanted to pay the late (great) Rabindranath Tagore some tribute and came across this lovely poem by him which I can't, but help, post.

Such poise and beauty with which he handles a given subject is beyond me. A great inspiration indeed. Jai Ho to you GURUDEV!

DEFAMATION:

Where are those tears in your eyes, my child?
How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing!
You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing-
is that why they call you dirty?

O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty because
it has smudged its face with ink?
For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They are
ready to find fault for nothing.
You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they call you
untidy?

O, fie! What would they call an autumn morning that smiles
through its ragged clouds?
Take no heed of what they say to you, my child.
They make a long list of your misdeeds.
Everybody knows how you love sweet things-is that why they
call you greedy?
O, fie! What then would they call us who love you

Mother’s day – Hats off to you Mom

Whether its Mater, Madre, Mutter, Mai, Moer, in world’s various national languages or Amma, Maa, Mai, Aayee or Ammee in Indian languages, that’s the first and the most powerful word a child utters for the first time when it learns to speak. It doesn't matter what the language is, the love and affection represented by this single word remains the same everywhere and in every language. The word signifies care, love, concern and sacrifice. It has the power to make you feel secure in the hardest of times

It was 2009, when I conceived our first baby and the following year in May I received a call from my mom wishing me for ‘Mother’s day’. That’s when it pleasantly hit me that I am going to be a mom soon too. Soon after, on 17^th June 2010, God granted us with the most precious gift that every woman can ask for – I became a mother.  After going through the agonizing pains of labour, I realised how beautifully God plays an incredible part in our lives to introduce a lovely new life into this world.

I was blissfully unaware of the sleepless nights that were soon coming racing towards me. I always thought that the only time mom’s wake up is to change nappies but was surprised to be told by doctors on feeding baby every couple of hours (chuckles).

First few days were very difficult to grapple with. It summoned a colossal amount of my patience, perseverance and presence of mind. Right things had to be at the right place at the right time. Slowly but surely it started sinking in that it really takes a lot to be a mom. Interestingly, you start acknowledging all that your mom has done for you, only when you get into her shoes and become one yourself.

I remember ringing my mom in Mumbai to thank her for all that she has done for us three sisters, right from waking up as early as 5 am in the morning, plaiting our long hair as strictly suggested by the convent nuns, to packing our tiffins (short and long recess), running a marathon race to catch our school bus be in scorching heat of summer, pouring rain of monsoon or biting cold of winters. I often missed seeing the gleam in her eyes when we used to miss our school bus in spite of her inordinate efforts. All of this amidst making sure that dad doesn’t miss his 7.19 Andheri local. Then bundling us all in the auto rickshaw and paying a fare which conveniently claims the grocery shopping of 2 days, she used to drop us to school. Come back home to see a pile of clothes and stack of vessels smiling back at her. Like a superwoman she would tuck the remainder of the saree into her waist and get to the household chores and find herself back at the bus stop to pick us up 4.30 pm. Our evening snacks would be ready by then and I now cringe to utter words like “Mom, there’s no way I am having that Upma” after such a beavering day.

She used to dish out some amazing recipes with the limited budget that she had and still manage to offer us varieties of fish, meat and veggies. She ensured buying all the yummy stuff that’s advertised on TV only to see us pose a content full smile after having tasted it. She not only gave us food to sustain but food for thought and lessons in life as well. Her empathy towards the less fortunate ones used to far outweigh her financial capacity and on many occasions we would see her tip the young waiter of the restaurant or slowly slide a 5 rupee note to the  table cleaner who probably might be a little older than I was.

I can’t, for the life of me, remember a single day in the last 29 years of my life, where she had her own session of ‘catching up with friends’. Oh wait! Did she ever have a friend she could lean on during the tough times of her life except Papa of course, who was more than a friend, to her! I always thought my mom’s sole purpose was to be our mom – that’s what she used to make us feel.

Come Easter or Christmas and dad’s entire shopping budget would be blown off by buying clothes and shoes for us, a major part of which was claimed by my very expensive choices. A little was left at the end for mom and dad to debate on who would have it and Papa would happily let mom have the saree she has been secretly wishing for since long. No sooner, mom would jump at the occasion and say “Not at all .. I have quite a few sarees in my cupboard and moreover, I bet no one remembers what I wore last Christmas” and let Papa buy a shirt for himself arguing that he needs the shirts more than she does as he goes to office every day and needs to have a good collection. I am sure we could have afforded a saree back then, but somehow her sacrificing nature would always get the better of her.

Well, the point I am trying to make is that this isn’t the story of my mom alone. It’s the story of every mother. They would let you have the best piece of that cake, the juiciest piece of chicken in the curry, the softest and sweetest part of the fruit cut and so on. I guess they are just meant to be that way. It’s rightly said that because God couldn’t be everywhere, he made mothers!

I sincerely thank Anna Jarvis to coin the idea of ‘Mother’s day’. She was specific about the location of the apostrophe; it was to be a singular possessive, for each family to honour their mother, not a plural possessive commemorating all mothers in the world. So each one of you reading this.. try and recollect when was the last time you said ‘thank you’ to your mom. Can’t recollect? Then wait no more.. Pick up that phone, ring her up and tell her what she means to you.. Today is ‘Mother’s day’ in the Arab world and 13^th May for Indians.. so will wish her on both these days and on every other occasion when I rise up to the values taught by her.

Happy Mother’s Day dear Mummy. Will love you always!

Just getting started

Vow... my virgin post ever ... feels good. Had a habit to write my thoughts, anguishes, worries, anxieties and 'reasons to smile' in my diary... but the busier life got the better of me and diaries started gathering dust.
Now, after a quick chat with my friend , Nish ... I thought .. why not blog!

Life has taken too many twists and turns after exit from college with great aspirations that the world will be welcoming me with wide open arms into its bossom.. but sadly nothing even close happened..

Well.. before I get into that.. firstly would like to open a champagne of bottle on my blog opening day.. sadly its not 11.11.11 but 12.11.11... err doesn't matter.. Tott!! blobp...whooosh!! ssssssssssss .. raising the toast and here you go with your drink.. Cheers!!

more to come.. watch out this space..