Dreamt about little daughter

My elder born is a beautiful child. She was the kind of baby that strangers stopped to talk to her. She had a rosy complexion, beautiful eyes and chubby lovable face. She still is beautiful. PCOS has dented her confidence. When she struggles with self image, I am often surprised. She is so pretty; yet so unsure about herself.

Yesterday I dreamt about her and she was a small baby ready to go to school. I was fretting over her lunch. My heart is so warmed since morning. Love you baby…wouldn’t change you for anything in the world.

Charlie missing M

M is away for an official tour. In his absence, we have carried on with our routine. Except for Charlie. For the past two days, he is depressed and sad. For sometime, we thought he wasn’t feeling well; but no…everything seems ok, but he seems sad. So yesterday, I got M talk to Charlie over phone. Charlie was looking all corners and searching M before he realised that voice was coming from mobile. He jumped on me like crazy.

To make him feel better, my daughter and I took him to the dog park. Ahhh! Poor thing cannot even understand and explain what he is feeling!


The world celebrated International Women’s Day yesterday. And the Whatsapp inbox was filled with messages. See the irony, I have received multiple messages from many people. They were forwarding the messages like crazy.

But you know what, most people forwarding these messages are men who are true misogynists in their life. All year around they share jokes on women, share sexist/ double meaning jokes, share porn clips amongst themselves…and just for one day of the year they share messages on respecting the women.

When will we actually start looking at people irrespective of their gender, race or religion….who says women need equality. Just see them as a human…that will be enough!

I see mothers…

I see the mothers.

Holding her child’s hand on one side, and a gun made for a soldier on the other.

I see the mothers.

Walking down roads unknown to her, carrying her children, her belongings, and her worries – all at the very same time.

I see the mothers.

Sitting on the floor of hospital basements, whether it’s giving birth to her first child, tending to her precious newborn, or sitting at the ‘bedside’ of her unwell children.

I see the mothers.

Running away to a life unknown in hopes of solace and safety, while having no choice but to leave behind pieces of her heart in the shape of husbands, fathers, brothers – Even sons.

I see the mothers.

Carrying a gun in her arms (and the world on the shoulders) just to get to the grocery store on the corner to see what’s left to buy for dinner.

I see the mothers.

Having no choice but to sit in the chaos of train stations, bus stops, and roadsides, during nap time and mealtime and bedtime.

I see the mothers.

Reading bedtime stories in dark, dreary basements for the sake of normalcy, while shelling and missiles outside their walls scream anything but normal.

I see the mothers.

Still loving on their children, and still showing up for their children –
But now to a life that they never imagined in their scariest, wildest dreams.

I see the mothers.

I see them silently praying, loudly loving, unapologetically surviving.

I see them still being mom.

I see the mothers…

“I am sure that if the mothers of various nations could meet, there would be no more wars.”
-EM Forester

Shared from a post on Facebook…

Another eventful dinner…

Yeaterday we had invited two Indian families over for dinner. This is the second time they were visiting us. Our first dinner was a disaster. M and I are usually very organised. We have regularly invited families over for dinners and have been very meticulous hosts.

But last time with these families, somehow heavens decided to play tricks with us. We prepared Aloo (potatoes) filled Patties for them as snacks and Chicken and Paneer dishes for main course Somehow the patties got burnt. The guests laughed it out and gracefully ate up all the patties…as the potato filling was delicious, the patties still tasted very good. And then I asked the elder one to warm up Chicken gravy and she did that on high flame which made the thick curry a bit charred and that gave bitter taste. Hence, unlike our get togethers, that dinner was a disaster.

When we invited them this weekend, we were very…very careful. I had planned out everything. Great snacks, great drinks, impromptu bonfire, old movie songs…all going great. I was silently thanking stars. But then we heard a loud screeching noise and a very loud thudd. When we rushed outside, we saw a car crashed in our guest’s car (which was parked on road). 😱😱

All hell broke loose. Calming the girl who crashed the car, calling police, calling Roadside assistance to tow the car, rushed dinner (with no perception of taste), sad goodbye and us dropping one family home ( they live 30-40 minutes away from us). As M had taken drinks, I had to drive them home. We were back at around 1:00 AM. 😔 After so much mehnatt (efforts), we did not end up happy. I think our stars don’t match.


One of my favourite interview statement has always been “I don’t see a difficult stakeholder, I see where they are coming from”. To imply that I do not consider a person as difficult, rather I rely on analysing why they are being difficult. I have tried to implement that in my professional life. But I failed in my personal life.

I always observed one thing about my mother-in-law. Whenever two of her children are disputing with each other, she supports each one of them on their face. Like if M and his sister are quarrelling, she supports M on his face, and then in front of his sister she supports her on her face…never takes a firm stand and calls spade a spade. I was always curious why. Sometimes I wondered if she was being mean.

Last week something happened that made me realise why.

So, it happened, both my children were fighting. When I was with the elder one, I took stand for the younger one(tried to tell her his perspective). She said she didn’t want to engage with me as all I do is take his side. In the evening, while talking to the younger one I took a stand for the elder one…trying to tell him where his elder sister was coming from and why she was fighting with him. This way I was trying to make both of them understand each other’s perspective. But he also said the same thing…I don’t want to talk to you as all you do is take her side. Both the kids did not want to talk to me because they thought I liked/preferred the other sibling.

And then I realised the insecurity of my mum-in-law. She is handicapped and dependent on her children for her care and daily upkeep. She does not want to be in the bad books of her children. It not because she is mean; it’s because at this age, she cannot risk the fact that her children think that she prefers the other sibling. I can call spade a spade because I know that if things go the wrong way, I can handle. She cannot, at this age. She needs her children so desperately that she has to do it.

I feel for her. I wish she realises that no matter what – she will always be loved by her children, grandchildren, and children-in-law.

Amusing morning

No matter how tense I am, entering my elder one’s room and giving her a morning call is always amusing.

Every morning, my morning alarm goes off at 5:45 AM. I get out at 5:55 AM and dash to my bathroom. At 6:30, I am out having done my morning routine and showering. I wake up M and come out of my bedroom. First thing I do is check upon kids and Charlie. I give a morning call to them…younger one is already up these days, while the elder one (who is up late at night to talk to her long distance boyfriend back in India) is deep into her sleep. Giving her a morning call ends her up blabbering up some incoherent stuff.

But today the blabbering was exceptional 😅. So when I called her, she muffled a bit. When I asked her whether she was able to submit her assignment last night. She gets up and looks direct at me and says – No, my mother could not submit. She looked completely awake. I said – what. And she continues saying ( making gestures with her hands as well) – Yes, my mum works in a law firm and she is working with a client who needs a rolling glass door. Client is unable to define what she needs. That’s why my Mum did not submit as yet 🙄🙄🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️.

I called her name again and asked which Mum. She continues…my Mum. I asked then who am I. She shrugs and then realises she is blabbering in sleep and went back to sleep saying..Shit, I am dreaming, I think. Sorry Mum!.😅😅

Found them…

He was a hero even when he was 10 years old. He always had a strange confidence in his walk, had a mind of his own and made quick decisions. He studied in Government school and went by Public Transport in Delhi. Once he saw a road accident victim lying on the road and no one was helping him. He got off his bus, hired an auto and took the victim to the hospital. The victim was saved and he was awarded at his school.

The girls in our colony were crazy for him. All crushing around him and he used to be the Casanova kind of person who was always surrounded by them. At 10 years of age, he used to ride a Bullet (a huge, very heavy 350CC motorcycle) which even the grown ups can put on stand.

His family was very strange…ill famed almost notorious. His elder sister was very pretty, good looking girl. She wore glamorous clothes. She used to hang around with high society people. Young rich boys coming home to drop her and the entire colony observing and gossiping about her. Most of the time she was slut shamed. But I really liked looking at her. I was a 9 year old who was clearly in awe of her beauty.

Last week someone from those times…living in same colony added me on Facebook and all the memories rushed back.

Surprisingly, I searched him. I don’t know but I have a strong feeling that I strived to be like him. Though all day I could see people hating that bro-sister duo…but I was convinced of their good hearts. When I think about him, I was always think of his walk..the way he walked…so uncommon in children of his age. His expressions, his way of behaving was so very mature.

So I searched him on Facebook. The nutty head has three accounts (must have forgotten his password). I recognised him in a pic with his son (his replica).

I wish I had a confident and self assured personality like his

Lessons from Death

My first encounter with a death in family was very early on in my life. I was in 6th grade when my Uncle (father’s younger brother) passed away. It was a tragic death as he was just 35 years old, leaving behind a 30 years old widow and very young children. He was a genius…the kind of person who stands out in a crowd of 100 people. But he died of heartbreak. His death taught me that a person can feel loneliness even when he is surrounded by admirers. He died of heartbreak because he married the person whom he fell in love with; but the relationship soon turned sour. They were still married at the time of his death, yet, he died of heartbreak.

My paternal grandparents followed within few years. I saw my grandfather (a man with an aura of granduer) crying and sobbing like a child on my grandma’s funeral. Lesson for self – no matter how bureaucratic you might be, but love brings you down to a human level. That’s why they say one falls in love.

He died within 6 months of her death. They were together for more than 75 years

Life became stable after that. Whole decade of not losing anyone. I got married and was pregnant with elder one when my sweetheart, my Nani Maa (maternal grandmum) passed away. I couldn’t attend her funeral – being pregnant Hindu traditions don’t allow you to attend funeral. When I was told it was already time for her funeral and I bid her goodbye kisses from my rooftop hoping it will reach the city that was 2 hours drive far. Lesson – it can hurt so much, yet the life moves on.

The passing away of many close people kept on happening and each death left some message. The most profound is that the things that we spent our lifetime collecting (we are so possessive about and safeguard under lock and key) are LEFT BEHIND. We concentrate on things that will be left behind and ignore the only thing that each one of us will take along…our Soul.

Today Bhappi Lahiri (a great music director) passed away. He was very fond of gold and was often seen with loads of necklaces. None of that jewellery will go along. What will for sure stay is his good work!!