Cold Turkey!

Sometimes it is best to start things cold turkey, instead of waiting for that perfect inspiration, that perfect opening line or that perfect moment. Let’s face it, the longer I wait, the more mentally exhausting it becomes. It is easy, ridiculously easy to blame the brain freeze, the lack of time, the forgetfulness all on the implet, but then I would just be kidding myself. The poor fellow is a breeze to take care of, he practically takes care of himself most times and the rest of the time I have spent with my parents in India, so the real test hasn’t begun yet. I am hopeful, the trend will continue though, the taking care of himself trend not he latter one. I have to say it though, spending time with family was absolutely awesome. Four generations under one roof, cousins together, amma and appa fighting over the implet and the two uncles who took turns to hold him, change him or just lie next to him making puppy dog eyes. The one periamma making him giggle and coo and the one chitti wiggling her thumb under his chin, his other mama promising to cook for him and yet another one drumming to his absolute delight. Life as they say was complete. I got to spend some time with my very precocious nephew who is 3 running on 30, and the newly arrived niece who loves to sleep and watch peacefully as the world around her bustles with the energy of the bulls in Pamplona.

After the rumble tumble and love that was India, US seems tame, like the hibernating bear in winter, it seems sleepy, damp and slow. I love this season here though. I love the footprints that I leave behind in the snow, I love the cold air that lies heavy and unapologetic over the mountains, I love the cold snap of wind that flits across your face, turning your nose red, I love the gentle flakes of snow that gently twitter across the brown, brown land, I love the swish sound it makes as it glides to a stop. I love waking up in the morning to see a white, white land adorned with the purest form of nature. I love its deep crunch as my body hits it to make an angel in the snow, I love the way it molds in my hand as I throw it across at an unsuspecting Euphonix ( get it…I am cacophonix..the husband..Euphonix ), I love the way it lies on the branches of the trees, waiting for the morning sun as a surprise to break the monotony of sunlight. I love the way it purifies everything on my drive and on the road. I enjoy the warmth of my house as I watch chimney’s smoking and melting the rooftop snow as the implet lies gurgling his good mornings and the husband hands me my hot, frothy morning coffee……Good Morning.

The copycat syndrome!

13 student suicides in two weeks. Is the problem with the education system or the way the system is enforced? Is the problem with the way lessons are taught or the way the lessons are expected to be learnt? Is the problem with the way education is imparted or with the way education is supposed to impact a life? Is the problem with the teachers who often appear disinterested, lackadaisical, lazy, overbearing, rude, condescending or with parents who often push and push towards something that is supposedly the way up. Is the problem with the students who push themselves till they break or the ones who are put down because they are lost? Is the problem with the students who learn dubious methods to move ahead, or with the ones that learn from the ones who take the easy way out?

Chinny…Chin..chin

There is something heartwarming about seeing my grandfather, all of 84 holding the implet all of 5 months and letting him run his fingers through my grandpa’s luxurious beard. There is something heartwarming about my grandpa holding him, his wooden stick thrown in one side and gently removing stray hairs caught in the implets tiny fingers, all the while whispering it might not taste good. There’s something heartwarming about seeing my grandma, looking like a kid herself with no teeth, laughing at the smiling toothless implet. There’s something heartwarming about seeing my father trying to make his grandson smile as he shows the implet off to his father. Life’s little moments come not in orchestrated grandeur but in gentle waves throughout.

Warm Heart(h)s

It  has been an eventful 2009. As much as I enjoy looking back and reminiscing about things that walked in the opposite direction, I don’t feel the need to do that this year. In some ways I had been looking forward to sprinting through 2009 the moment it started. It was part anticipation, part curiosity, part restlessness and for the most part the need for movement….The implet arrived midway, and thinking back that was the only huge event that happened. It is life changing, but emotionally, that hasn’t really stuck home yet. I mean, people ask me..”You are a mother, how do you feel”. That answer till date is” Not much different.” I mean I realize the life changing part of it, but I still am on the outside looking in emotion wise. I love the implet to bits and am growing into my role everyday, but I am still in many ways not comfortable with the one-dimensional person I am expected to be. I mean my brain hasn’t gone mush or I haven’t lost everything I have gained in the past just because I am a mother. I hate the fact that people think they can talk to me only about the implet or things implet related. It confounds me, confuses me, challenges me. It makes me look at myself and question everything I know about me. I see a person who I think is me, and yet fail to make people see it. Maybe I am just trying too hard, maybe I should just let people and their beliefs be.I have plenty of New year resolutions. Unlike other years, I am making new year resolutions and sticking to them.

For now though, I am peace. I am home where Mom and Dad still love each other, where my brother and I still squabble over the last piece of paneer and where we both sing lullabies to our youngest brother while he runs around the house trying to escape…..the hearth is warm, so is my heart. New Year arrives with warm promises. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A home for my toothbrush

Permanence or rather contentment from permanence for me comes from seeing my toothbrush hanging in the brush holder in the morning. It has been 6 years since I moved away, and yet everytime I come back, my mother makes sure there is a spot in the brush holder and a shelf in her almirah for me. That to me says home much much more then anything else.