MellowDrama

A lesson that has kept rearing its head time and again in my journey of motherhood, of which I am going to complete 10 years in a couple of months, is something that I refused to learn till the very recent times. It is a lesson that my mother wanted me to adopt as soon as my daughter started to talk, walk, and defy. In short, being an independent child.  Today, it is this lesson that I wish I had the sense to adopt the first time my mother said it out loud to me. But then who would I be if not a common-sense-defying rebel! Or on the other hand maybe this is what makes motherhood such an adventure ride- the ability to gain sense and discover things which only experience can shower upon you.  The lesson that I am talking about has been worded by so many smart and intelligent people over the ages, that I can fill up pages with their quotes, but I am going to give you two of my favourites that spell it out the best for me. "Don't worry that the children never listen ...

Imagine this scenario.  You are working on your laptop or in your kitchen on perfecting a recipe. You are a picture of concentration and focus. There is Zen like atmosphere around you. You are calmly forging ahead on your path. But then the very silence that was helping you work dedicatedly gives you shivers. You remember that for the last five minutes maybe seven, you haven’t heard your baby. Yes, you have also come out from Zen-o-sphere and remembered that you are a parent. If you actually have baby/ babies you will  know where I am getting, but for the uninitiated, let me tell you that no sound from an active, awake baby for more than a couple of minutes is a sure sign of trouble. In times like this, I think, mothers from all over the world are grateful to the fellow who invented the squeaky shoes. The ones that go chooon choooon and chooooon. These are the shoes that look so pretty and are lightweight but have real ammo- the sound, the alarm bell. Those shoes, my f...

My daughter goes to learn Kathak. I wasn't very enthusiastic about the classes at the beginning. No, don't get me wrong. I am all for arts. I love dance and music myself and I always have wanted that my children should learn to do something amazing with their bodies and I think dance makes for a great starting point. Neither am I one of the few who would scoff at the cultural heritage of the country or someone who preferred the western ways more. I am a mother of two, aged 9 and 2 and when she announced she wanted to learn kathak, I just did not have it in me to take her for a weekly class, some 5 kms away from my house. My reluctance also arose from the fact that previous such endeavours (I started her on Bharatnatyam when she was 4/5). The weekly class had become a thorn in my side. She would not want to go to that class which was happening almost next door. She would cry and cry till the time I threw my hands in despair and gave up. It must have been some 8 classes spre...

Exasperated mothers Trying mothers Mothers who have too much on their mind. Mothers who think cake counts as a meal. Mothers who worry too much. Mothers who fly away so that their kids might follow. Mothers who stay put so that that their kids might get a solid platform. Mothers who love without being ever seen or heard. Mothers who let their children know they are there and theirs. Mothers who feed. Mothers who eat. Mothers who bleed. Mothers who get readily cut up. Mothers who become fathers, storytellers, advisors and sounding boards. Mothers who never get asked for their preferences or opinions. Mothers who are teachers. Mothers who are learners. Mothers who mother and mothers who smother. Tired mothers. Fresh as  a daisy mothers Yummy mummies, sporty mummies Mummies with tummies Tummy filling mummies every girl who becomes a mother lives life on the edge of a sword always on the verge of forgetting who she is and yet not having that luxury of forge...

I am staring at this screen. Some time has gone by. I meant to restart the writing process. Often during the day I have these amazing thoughts that I have left unattended for a long time. Now I want to take charge and start gathering them.  This happened after I read a quote somewhere. Isabel Allende's. Write what should not be forgotten. Now when I am trying to write that which must not be forgotten I forget already what it was to be. Some gyaan. That I am sure of.  Some random thought that I have been cud chewing. Some which take a shape. Gather weight. Form. See the light of the day or evening via a conversation.  It could be that or some guilt pang looking for an escape of a expression about the way I am raising my child. Or how she is turning out to be without my assistance.