How Careful Can We BE?

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon when I pulled over at the local grocery store. We had guests coming over for dinner and I had this one ingredient missing for a dish. As I unbuckled my seat belt I instructed my older daughter who was in a car seat to start doing the same. Grocery stores were not her favorite thing and she always sulked whenever I had to take her along (she didn’t know that if I had a choice, I wouldn’t take anybody along when I went to any damn store!).

“Mom, me and my sister can wait for you in the car, why don’t you go inside and get what you want”, she offered a quick solution. Her sister, the baby was barely 18 months old and in no position to unlock herself from her car seat and wander off anywhere, so the quick fix suggested was very tempting.

The store we had parked in front of was not a departmental store, it was a small store, pretty much empty at this time of the day and going inside, grabbing what I needed, paying for it and coming out again would all in all probably take a total of 4 minutes, I calculated.  As opposed to taking them both out of their car seats, forcibly making one of them sit in the shopping cart, maneuvering the cart in that small store, buying what I needed and then pay, get the cart at the door and fasten them both again in their car seats (not without protest I assure you), a minimum of 15 minutes and that too for one single purchase.  Now, this here may have looked to you like an awful lot of thinking, but it is because I am writing it down, the actual thought process started and ended in 10 seconds.

“Ok, don’t fight with your sister” I mumbled, stepping out of the car and locking it, sounding affirmative but yet not sure of going ahead with it. Since my car was parked right outside the store, all I had to do was keep looking out of the glass doors while I finished the business in there, I said to myself. I can see the kids every second while I am in there, I reiterated in my mind, depositing the car keys in the right hand pocket of my white jacket. Inside the car, just an arm’s reach away, my older daughter seemed overjoyed at this newly entrusted responsibility and freedom. Enthusiastically she waved her hand at me; I waved back and started to walk, the very next second retracing my steps. I don’t know what hit me, maybe the unusualness of the whole scenario (I don’t remember going into any store at this time of the day by myself after the birth of my second child, it’s like I always either struggling to get the stroller inside the store or trying to balance a child on the hip and another by the hand) or the maternal instinct that kicked off at the right time.

Whatever it was, Baby no. 1 was definitely not pleased to see Mom returning even before she left. “Mom, I am a big girl now, I can take care of me and my sister” she argued as I ordered her to come out and stand by me while I took the baby out from her car seat. “Mom, why can’t I just sit and wait for you” an imploring tone and finally, “I hate the store, I don’t want to go with you” Anger and tears, a last effort.  “I promise to finish it in 5 minutes sweetie” I told her in my best possible calm voice (any experienced mother will tell you that it is when you are most frustrated that this voice descends on you like a gift from God, a saving grace in hard times).

And I did stick to my promise that day, for under standard conditions a nearly empty store was the perfect excuse to walk leisurely through every aisle, check out the new arrivals and ponder over a couple of products trying to choose between them, did not matter that none of them where ever in the original shopping list. Running a cooking blog clearly made this whole time consuming, extra money spending exercise not only justifiable but essential.

So out we were in a very short time and heading home with almost no fuss from the girls at being confined in their special seats again.

All this while, starting from the minute I retraced my steps back to take the kids with me inside the store, the enormity of what I had thought of doing, was creeping in slowly, a sickening feeling of how close I was to taking a risk that would have cost me more than life itself.

A part of me had its defenses ready. You are just one of those paranoid moms who trust nothing and no one. If anybody had tried to tamper with your locked car, the alarm would have blared off, attracting a lot of attention including yours. The car and the kids were within sight, you weren’t about to leave them unattended. There was no physical danger to their life, you were going to be away for just a couple of minutes, and you probably take a lot longer in the shower. And finally, will you stop thinking about what MIGHT have happened since actually speaking you didn’t end up leaving them alone in the car.

And this was even before we all read the news about the 7 year old Atlanta girl abducted, molested and killed. When I read that news which made headlines and had even strangers crying over it, I couldn’t sleep for days.  One wrong choice and a child is lost forever. And since a child cannot be expected to make wise choices, the adults/ parents/caretakers have to take care they don’t goof up. Terrible outcomes arise out of perfectly normal circumstances and scar you for life.

This makes me arrive finally at the inherent question of this post. How careful can we be? Sadly, in today’s world; not enough, never enough. Whenever this topic of child safety comes up for discussion amongst friends, parents, we always drift a step away in the past when we used to be kids. Someone points out how much we used to play outside, unsupervised play, on the streets play which kids now a days are not seen doing much of. Another parent says, we have turned our kids into sissies they can’t even walk to the school bus stop alone , do you remember your mom coming to pick you up at the bus stop when you were 8 years old?  No, yet another person in the group joins in and we used to roam around the whole neighborhood in summer on our bikes without a care in this world, didn’t have to worry about carrying cell phones for Mom to reach us every 20 minutes or even worse wait for Dad to come home from work and follow along. I dare not even go the trash can to dump garbage just a minute’s walk away from the apartment leaving a child at home, a mom chips in. Do whatever, take as many precautions, if something bad is going to happen, it will, a few just reconcile to fate, maybe because they were lucky enough not to have bad things happen to anybody they knew or held close. But, kids today have no idea what a carefree childhood is, everybody agrees.

The burning question is have we become paranoid or is this the need of the hour? Should we fear the personality damage that we inflict on our children by constant supervision or should we feel guilty about leaving them unattended even for a minute?  Should we risk bringing down the child’s survival instinct (a child of a reasonable age like 7 years or older) by not testing his or her reflexes and reactions to everyday small time dangers like hopping over to the neighbor’s place one lane away or playing unsupervised with a bunch of other kids in broad daylight OR should we rather not take any chances at all? Should we try and curb their independence outside for as long as we can (meaning till they are ready to drive) or give them a chance to spread out their wings, like we were given, teaching caution?

If I had been asked those questions a few days before, I would have probably said I will teach my kids to be alert, prompt and ready to scream for help and after a couple of years when they are older I shall let them enjoy the last bits of childhood armed with the above said attributes.

But today, I will say, times have changed now from when we were raised. People were less busy and the neighbors were friendlier. Communities were stronger and the families were closer. Awareness has increased but so has exposure. However smart children maybe in this day and age, whatever safety tips you may have taught them and whichever latest technology they may possess  in their pocket to reach out for help, he or she is still a child. Vulnerable and fragile; an easy target and certainly no match for an adult.  So be with them, guide them and protect them for as long as you can. Do not take chances, our children are precious. 

Plans And Dreams

Where will I be and who will I be ten years from now? This isn’t a very unique question. Most of us wonder where life will lead us.

There are people you meet who strongly advocate living each day as it comes. What’s the point in planning for the future, who knows what’s in store, they argue. And there are the dreamers who never stop thinking beyond the present day.

Many times confused to mean the same, plans are different from dreams. At some point of time they intermingle but per se, they are different. If I go just by the sound of it, a plan sounds like something concrete, attainable and dependable.  And dreams speak of anticipation, indulgence and the impossible. Yes, the sound of a word has a feeling that reaches you much before its denotation. 

And as different as they are from each other, one may lead to the other, automatically or not.

I always dreamed of settling down in my own city, the place I was raised, close to my family, in vicinity of my friends. I also dreamed of books, great writers and the magical words they wrote.

Years passed and dreams faded. Life happened and ambitions changed; an alteration of perspective and the path.

Plans began to form. A degree considered commercially viable (though my heart was always in the stories and pieces I read), steps towards a corporate career and the first sacrifice was made. It still did not perturb the way I lived because the place was where I wanted to be. And the days rolled by, happy and some, the paradigm shift was yet to come.

Tears dropped silently as I boarded the train, hand in hand with the love of my life. A home together was much more important than a house away from each other. We were young and the distance from our hometown was not too much, going back and forth every month would be manageable, I consoled myself.

The new city promised a better future, but was it the one I had dreamed off? Perhaps not. One step farther away and the only sound I could hear now was the echo of what I used to want to be.

How incredibly cruel that time sits still for some, those who wait painfully for things to change and come their way and for some others; it runs faster than they can hope to catch it.

The transition from the new city to the new country happened almost effortlessly, adaption they say is a wonderful quality that brings peace of mind to the displaced. The zeal and the vigor to visit discover and stay amid a different culture, an unseen world played its part too. 


So how far exactly have I come, I often asked myself. Did not matter, an inner voice replied, one step away is far enough. I let my plans overshadow my dreams.

And that’s when the resemblance between the two surfaced. Plans can backfire and dreams can return to haunt you. Plans or dreams, whatever it was, it was nothing short of a wakeup call for me.

Five years back, I picked up a pen and a piece of paper, imagined I was in school and had been told to write an essay. The pen flowed, slowly at first and soon picking up momentum, just as it did then.

Fortunately that is all there is to how I started writing AGAIN. No drama, no suspense, no tragedy either! My article “A New Beginning” was published in SPARKS on 5^th December, 2011, possibly the best thing to happen in the last month of the year!

You can read it at - http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=2836

To do or not to do..

“No way, never again”…

This was my agonized reaction when friends and relatives came to see our newborn daughter and joked about having a brother for her next.

The sleepless nights, the overwhelming feeling of parenthood and the constant fatigue, it seemed like new babies came with a lot more than just the cute smiles and sleepy faces. They came with hungry tummies and poopy diapers. Also they took their own sweet time to decide which time zone they would rather follow than to fall in place with the rest of the world.

My husband was faring a little better than me since he wasn’t the one whose stomach was cut open to bring the baby out. Oh yes, I was so mad at him for being a man and getting it easy.

Me, I thought my life was over. With the deepest sense of love and protectiveness for the baby came a sense of despair for my own self. (I did come to know later that this was a very natural reaction to the process of having a baby and I was not as exceptional a woman, I thought I was). “How will I raise my little girl? Will I ever do anything in life now except worry about her?”I would mumble incoherent questions between sobs, most of which even didn’t make sense to me. I guess not, he would smile and say, not what I wanted to hear.

Whoever came to see the baby had the warmest expression on their faces. “She’s adorable, she looks like her dad, Oh, such a small baby and she will grow up so fast you won’t even know so hold on to her every minute she’s in your arms”. The last statement seemed a little farfetched to me at that time.  I even confided in my sister who wasn’t even married yet, that people who said all those lovely things had short lived memories and since their kids were all grown up they had forgotten the hellish first few months. My sister gave me a look like how can you say such mean things about this cute little baby, all she does is eat, sleep, make dirty diapers and cry and then eat again and sleep…? “hmmm, she does have that shrill irritating cry which goes on in the middle of the night, but she’s very cute”, quickly the aunt in her covered up on the factual but not so pleasant observation.

But time did fly and before we knew it was her 3^rd Birthday (sob..sob..sob..very emotional while I write this). And once she started going to preschool every day she came back home and asked for a baby sister to play with. Seeing her friends with their siblings made her feel lonely and jealous. For us it was a huge dilemma. I had just earned a small portion of my freedom back and wasn’t sure I wanted to go through the whole grind again, forget so soon. My husband being an only child himself really didn’t see any disadvantage to that position. But in the end I thought of my younger sister, our relationship as children and how it evolved from siblings who couldn’t stand each other to sisters who watch out for each other.

We were as different as chalk and cheese, me and my sister and all we did was fight constantly. I have been told that I had requested my mom to send the baby back to the hospital where she came from, the day they brought her home (they might be just making this up to try and make me feel guilty after all these years). And yet today, we count on each other like never before. I guess the fights were all about growing up together and once we did grow up, the equation changed completely. We still have our differences but the care and concern comes out even in the disagreements.  

She will have lots of friends if not a sibling and they will stand by her, said hubby dear playing the devil’s advocate. True, I thought, but acquaintances, friends, neighbors are more transient than a brother or a sister. Even with the best of intentions, it is hard to go back to old friends as often as you would want to. You keep on making new friends in life, not necessarily forgetting the old ones, but with family there are only additions. I do not in any way undermine the importance of dependable friends; just that I believe they don’t substitute for a sibling and the other way round. Why not give her a chance to have both, I told him.

It has been nearly 2 years since that fateful conversation and subsequent decision. Things have changed at home, like our schedules, the monthly budget and my pitch of voice. There is more mess and more arguments too. What keeps the balance is more hugs and more fun. We are busier but happier.

Between the two of them, things are complicated. History they say repeats itself. They fight a lot and my day often goes by playing referee. But they CAN NOT do without each other. The younger one adores her big sister and the big sister takes her title pretty seriously.

The day I posted pictures of both my girls together for the first time on Facebook, my friend Urvashi commented; your girls are going to be best friends for life. I almost laugh it off when I see them grab each other’s hair for a favorite book but the very next moment they walk together hand in hand, adjusting their pace and direction to match each other and I believe it with all my heart.

Rockstar - Movie Review

“Behind every successful man there is a woman” or her absence. This can very well be the tag line for Rockstar.

I am not at all surprised at the intense reactions Rockstar is gathering from all over the place. Some love it, some hate it and there is rarely an in between response. Why am I not surprised? Because it is a piece of art which was bound to stir up your senses, positive or negative.

I loved the movie; let me get it cleared at the start so those looking for an unbiased review can stop reading right away.

Rockstar, as the title goes is what the hero of the movie wants to be and I use the words “wants to be” and not “aims to be” because when he actually reaches THERE, he doesn’t want it anymore.

With Jim Morrison as his idol, Janardhan Jakhar or JJ wonders why he isn’t so successful even though he has it in him. Enlightenment comes in the form of a canteen owner (subsequently his manager) who points out that all famous artists have a real tragedy in life which makes them so.  Taking the advice to heart, off goes our hero after the most gorgeous girl “Heer” on the campus. They turn into friends and only when she gets married in some time and goes away to Prague does Jordan (as named by Heer) feel a sense of “missing” in life and music just flows out of him.

He grabs the chance to visit Prague and meets Heer again, miserable and unhappy in her marriage and in the foreign land. This time when they meet, both realize what they mean to each other, an affair is just the natural way of progression for them thereon.

They share a chemistry that is unstoppable. They love each other, yearn for each other and only when they are together does their world feel complete. And this love story tells you just that.

When Heer’s conscience turns up too much against her, Jordan’s heart is broken. The separation once again brings out the rebel and the artist in him like never before. But success, when it comes doesn’t taste as sweet to him because his love is not by his side.

Heer’s sister calls for him at one of his concerts and he meets his lady again, this time without the baggage of her marriage. All his dreams with her come true before the movie ends on the prophecy that comes true.

Rockstar is not a brilliant love story never written or seen before; it is a heartfelt depiction of what happens when soul mates come together and stay apart. The sad face of Heer, speaking volumes about her married life and the angered reaction of Jordan to the much longed for success tells us that nothing feels right when you are not with your loved one.

Rockstar takes you through the musical journey of a love so powerful, it makes you forget the rights and the wrongs, the flawed circumstances in which Jordan and Heer come together.  All you remember is the magic they create together.

The music of Rockstar is the soul of the movie, one cannot imagine the movie without its songs and they seamlessly fall into all the beautiful places the movie takes us.  

The last scene shows a million fans waving, cheering for our Rockstar as he sings his heart out. Pain and music so blended in the outcome, almost inseparable.  Janardhan becomes the rock sensation he always wanted to, having learnt two life altering lessons in one powerful stroke – love can heal and love can kill.

Running Away

Read a book titled “Escape” by Barbara Delinsky. I wouldn’t call myself a fan of these kind of books (the kind you can re-read after a year only vaguely remembering a few things as the book progresses) but off late I have formed a habit of reading something light after a couple of intense reads. Danielle Steel stories seem too predictable to me (no offense to the author as they obviously sell like hot bricks). So I settle for a Barbara Delinsky or a Nicholas Sparks or an Anita Shreve book. The last name on the list however has a thing for tragedies, not my cup of tea when in mood for light reading. Which makes me come back to the basic question, what do I consider as a “light” read?

It has to be fast paced, have a little bit of soul and be interesting enough.  It should of course refresh me to serve its basic purpose. It’s like you haven’t lost out on anything great if you didn’t read it but if you did; it wasn’t a waste of time.

Anyway, so I finished this book in more or less one day, skipping a few lines here and there and mostly enjoyed it. It tells the story of a woman who wants to escape her everyday life for the time being. Just when I finished reading the last page, it was time to go so I grabbed the car keys and headed out for my daughter’s swim lessons, the book still fresh in my mind.

And I thought to myself, where would I go if I felt like running away? I thought and I thought for a couple of minutes and yet no answers came. That kind of scared me. Not having anywhere to go other than where I was. I mean, shouldn’t I have a contingency plan in place if things didn’t work out?

Now I seriously started thinking, contemplating places or people I would go to if I ever needed to escape. The first word that came to my mind was Mommy. Well, don’t be shocked, most of the people call out to their moms in times of distress. But I know I wouldn’t go to Mom and dad, it would be too obvious and whatever I was trying to escape from could easily follow me there. Another thing is I would probably be in need of space and not advise if I had chosen to escape and moms really didn’t fare well in that department.

Next on the list would be a friend. But my best friend lives far away in another country; do I know anybody who lives closer and will let me in for an indefinite period of time without asking questions? Nope.

I could go to my sister, two flights and a couple of hours away. Yea, she would be happy to see me and glad to help but would I be able to ask for help?

And the last thought steered the entire deliberation in a different direction. Now the question was do I trust anybody enough to reveal my inner fears or doubts other than the person I married (my children are still too young to share worries)? And suddenly it felt like it wasn’t just my question but more of an entire generation. We, who no longer live close to our families, who make and break friendships on facebook and who dare not ring the bell at a neighbor’s house without reason.

It is my personal experience and observation and I could be wrong here that we are becoming less and less vulnerable. You can think of it as a good survival tool in this world of cut throat competition or as an obstacle which prevents you from getting close to people around you. Do we trust anybody anymore?  Why are we so guarded all the time? Think about this, thanks to the internet and the i-phones we have more and more contacts, but when the time comes how many of them would you actually contact?

As the pondering continues I laugh out loud. So much for a light read!  I had to admit a work of fiction got me thinking (I am sure that wasn’t the intention of the author!)

In the end I have to confess that although my thoughts to escape were all imaginary, the sentiments they evoked were not.

Moving

“Thousand miles apart

You in my heart

Me in your heart

Will never depart”

“So, will I never see her again”? Asks my daughter. And I really don’t know what to say. There are a number of answers that come to my mind. “Of course you will. We will all go and meet them next year” OR “Maybe after a couple of years she will come visit us” OR “you never know what future holds in store, who knows both of you, might go to the same college”! none of which will sound convincing to my 5 year old as at that age they really can’t see beyond weekends , play dates and B’days. Also theirs is a world of definitive occurrences, probability is not a concept they are very familiar with.

Our friends are moving to another State and their daughter happens to be best friends with my daughter. I knew about the move some time back and pondered over how to break the news to Saachi. I could either tell her a month before and prepare her so that she had time to let it sink in or tell her a day before to spare her from the that sink – “ing” feeling of saying good bye to a friend. I decided on the latter.

Because the sentiment of moving away is still raw and fresh in our minds. We haven’t  yet completed a year at this new place. Though we are pretty much settled here now for the time being, there isn’ t a day which goes by when we don’t mention or think about our old home in that small mountain town. Personally, I feel we moved for the better but that still doesn’t take away the pain of going away from a place you made your home for many years.

For people like us who move where employment takes us, it’s a sequence which repeats itself. Move to a new place, hate it at first, feel lonely, fall sick because of change in weather, slowly start getting to know people around, explore the new place, make new friends, decorate the apartment, kids are happy and settled at school, finally feels like home, time to move AGAIN.

And you leave the place you hated on arrival and now are scared to leave, land at this new city, new surrounding, not knowing what to expect and who to trust. It is under that scenario that you meet and make friends like these, who are now leaving. People you knew for a short while but got along well. Families, which opened their homes and hearts; accepted you and made you a part of their lives without hesitation.  Strangers , who in no time turned into friends.

Moving is a pain, I have heard many people complain and most of them mean it in the physical sense. How hard it is to pack and unpack and find a new home and re-arrange your whole life. I find it harder to move away from the relationships I built. It is always more about people and less about the place.

So, to my friends I left behind in Colorado – I miss you all and will always remember every one of you. To my friends who are leaving – Good luck and don’t forget us!

And to my daughter, all I said was this – we moved from Colorado to this place and yet very soon one of your old friends is going to come see you isn’t  that true, what does it mean? My question gave her the hope my answers couldn’t have.

Festive Fun

What is it about festivals that make you so emotional? They make you miss home even more and they remind you of your childhood days when life was as simple as a laugh or a tear.

As festivals come closer I try and muster as much enthusiasm as I can and jump into preparations/celebrations but still fall short as compared to my 5 year old.  Don’t get me wrong, I do love all festivals and the decorations, the food and everything that go with them but there is a fundamental difference, I am THE mom now!

It is so hard not to reminisce about those days when mom fussed about my new dress and dad took endless pictures of the smile that seemed to get brighter and brighter with each click. I still have memories of my childhood home which came alive with lights and colorful decorations and back then it felt like I had a lot to contribute to it but now I know the truth. All I did was choose the color and chatter nonstop about this and that while mom and dad did the real work. And the food, how can I ever forget the food, every dish cooked at home, hours and hours of preparations in the kitchen. So many things made especially because I liked to eat them. It was a time I was the most loved person in the house, till my sibling came along. Festivals then were fun and more fun.

The roles have reversed and how!

Now, festivals are fun and more work. With change comes appreciation. Appreciation for things and people you took for granted because they were always there. Did I even have the faintest idea how tiring festivals were for my parents? Not then, but now I do. Did I even vaguely comprehend how much effort went into creating a joyous environment in the house no matter what the circumstances, which made every festival so much more enjoyable? Probably not then, but now I do. Did I ever thank my parents for all the wonderful memories of each and every festival? Not then, but now I probably should!

As I watch my children grow I know now why festivals were more fun as kids. It was an enjoyment that went without any responsibility.  One of the many advantages of being a child.