Phoenix

Dear Ashi, the darkest hour of my life to date has passed and as I strive for the mental strength to stop reeling from the impact of it, I feel lost and confused. I am essentially a very private person when it comes to sorrow for my first reaction is to curl up into a ball and shut out the world. So the only reason I am writing this is for you.

I walk around completely normal, engage in conversations, laughter and work and play as if nothing has happened and every other moment it hits me that my father is no more. As if in the musical chairs of life, my father got out in the last round, the music has started up again and I am going through the motions but I am searching for him and I can’t find him.

In life there are many relationships that you will form and each will have its own importance. The closeness or the joy you get from that relationship is up to yourself and the other person but when you lose that relationship there will be a void in life. For no one person can replace another. Be it friends, be it grandparents, be it siblings, be it whomever you come across.

Difficult for me to write about this phase in my life but I want you to know that you are a huge relief! Whenever I cry you get alarmed and come and hug me. A sense of wonderment fills me when I think how such a small child can reach out and console. You push me to be normal for two reasons, one I don’t want to worry you and have you in tears and two because that makes me realise that neither would my daddy have wanted me to be in tears.

It hurts and it hurts badly. Every time that I think of the time I have on this earth and without his hands to guide me through it. Every time that I start wondering how he is and what life is after death. Every time that I think daddy wasn’t ready to say good bye and neither were we and never would we have been ready. Every time that I realise that I won’t hear his voice again or have his hug. Every time that I think that you will never get to know my dad. Every time……every minute….every hour…..

I feel angry and there are times when I just want to lash out. Times when I feel as if my head is ready to burst because I can’t figure out emotionally why my father was taken away from me. Times when I think sanity will need to bow to my trauma and if there is a way to take this gnawing wound away then show it to me GOD!!!

Your father has been my shining light through it all with his patience and understanding. I don’t know if I could be like that if the roles were reversed but he helps so much by not asking by not prodding but by just silently holding my hand through this difficult time.

I just want to tell you my dear daughter that I am sorry but there will be a time when I will be gone, not because I wanted to but because I had to. I know you will go through these same emotions but I hope you will show better mental strength than I have and always realise whether I am with you or not, the times we spent together, the love and laughter we have shared, the life we have experienced together can never be taken away.

2013

Its 2013, a new year, new beginnings and a new dawn. So what are some of the things on the top of my mind as I start this year.

A very dear friend of mine whom I had sort of in the back of my mind lost hope for has gone ahead and surprised me by announcing his marriage. I truly was on the verge of giving up hope on that happening and every time I thought about it I was saddened. I know it’s a big step for him something awaited something dreaded and I wish him all the happiness in life in this new exciting chapter of his.

With that news coming in I have in my mind termed 2013 to be a year of happy surprises…probably miracles.

Another bit of happy news I am thrilled over is the expected arrival of a baby during the 1^st quarter of this year…NOT ME…..hehehhe…..but for another close friend of mine. Its been an absolutely wonderful time seeing her go through her pregnancy and mentally holding her hands and sharing my experience. If we had the concept of godmother’s more prevalent in India then she would be the godmother I would choose for Ashita.

So that’s news on actual incidents yet to happen this year, however for things that have not materialised ……yet! Shall I term that as my wish-list for 2013.

• I hope that my brother decides to settle down and gets married this year. My most fervent prayer right now however it should happen with his complete agreement and happiness.
• My dad is on his feet and able to maintain a healthy lifestyle in all senses of that word.
• Loose weight….i wonder if there will ever be a year in my life when I have not started the year with resolution to loose weight and become thin and lean. I guess this is one wish I may very well carry to my grave and thereafter return from the netherworld to haunt skinny humans for.
• I wish to be working all through the year and not have any gaps on my resume. This has nothing to do with being career oriented and all to do with bank balances.
• To learn something new…..this one is a bit tricky…..last year I was trying to learn something new and what I ended up doing is I learnt swimming and although I haven’t mastered it I can now officially swim. However that was before I started working so wondering what will be possible for this year. Need to give this one some thought...

I wonder what all my friends are doing and thinking. Anyways hope each and everyone has a great year ahead.

My Dad - Part II

Dear Ashi, continuing from where I left off last time, let me cut to the chase. My dad’s not well and hasn’t been for several months now. I won’t go into the medical reasons of his condition but I do want to share with you the anguish I feel right now.

Its difficult to watch the body being eaten away by disease and that is precisely what it does. From the booming voice and laughter that characterizes my dad I now have to see a frail person with no energy to speak. His cheeks have sunk in and his eyes keep fluttering in and out of consciousness. Doctors assure me that this is just a temporary phase and that things will improve. This phase though however temporary is quite painful, to watch yes but much more so to undergo. His arms have blood clots from poked it with so many needles so many times, he isn’t able to swallow as the skin in his mouth has peeled away leaving traces of blood……..

My dad is 69 and by today’s standards that’s not old yet. I know we can expect a full recovery although it will take time to reach that. Logically all the facts and the doctor’s statements tally but emotionally every minute I am with him I just feel like breaking down and crying.  I keep searching in my mind what could be the reasons for this situation but frankly speaking there is no one thing I can point my finger at. Where logic fails reasoning goes out of the window and faith starts to make its way in, for me faith is what gives me strength to face circumstances. So increasingly I turn to god.

I have been now with my dad for 3 weeks and I haven’t yet had a good talk with him because the times he is lucid is few and far between. I guess one thing that is mostly true for all daughters is that we are daddy’s pet and when the chips fall its our dad’s who normally give us a good heart to heart and let us know that things will be okay. It is also our dad’s who make us feel protected and secure the most. I am sure you will be no different my dear and blessed are you for having that cherished relationship.

Before I finish off I want to share one last thing. You are now 16 months old and yet to start speaking, you babble words now but you do understand most of what we speak. Every day you accompany me to the hospital. Every day you bring the light back into your grandfather’s eyes with your antics. Sometimes you give him a handshake, sometimes a smile, sometimes a flying kiss and sometimes just a touch of your cheek and with each interaction with you he brightens up which lifts my heart. Your presence motivates him and for that I am grateful. Thank you my darling.

My Dad

My dear daughter, you are much too young now to understand what I have to say and what I am going through. Unfortunately, I know that you will in the future be in the same place and perhaps then when you read this blog of mine it will make sense to you.

Every child’s hero is his/her dad and I am no exception. I am not blind to my dad’s faults and there are very many at that but I know objectively when I look at him there is respect and a sort of reverence that he commands. It comes from him being a self made man. A term quite exhaustively used in this day and age so let me qualify that. My dad, the eldest son of a young widow has seen life’s ups and downs from a young age. His father’s death quite literally plunged the family into debt and hard times. Difficult to meet ends nonetheless my granny had high hopes for her eldest, despite all hardships she made sure he finished his college education. These were times when value of education hadn’t quite caught up and people in mallu land were going to other states and countries seeking a livelihood after completing their matriculation (10^th standard). Well my granny made sure he completed his graduation and the day he got the degree in hand he was on the evening train to Mumbai to try and get a job. At the age of 21 he reached Mumbai with scant knowledge of Hindi and little or no grasp of verbal English. However through sheer desperation and perseverance he got a job in Bank of India. During the next 11 years he rose to the rank of Foreign exchange manager and he along the way accumulated degrees in law, human resources, finance, etc through evening college. Although he could have rested on his laurels and led a comfortable life thereon, he was still spurred to make money and reach more heights career-wise. With a wife and a 2 yr old son in tow, he decided to risk it all by quitting his job at the bank and catching the next flight to Dubai. People around him declared him mad to be running after what was akin to the Gold Rush. My granny being foremost! Well the rest is a story for another day.

Right now you are sitting on my knee and refusing to allow me to continue this blog. I don’t want you to cry my baby so I will stop for now and come back to this story when you are asleep.

Love you my daughter. Just remember that there are hard truths in life and I would rather you be aware of them than be sheltered from them.  So when there are times when you find me being strict or hard please know that it is with a heavy heart I am being so.

Nursery days

My dearest daughter I have joined office and I miss you every single moment of sitting at office. Well, let me start at the beginning.

       Every day we wake up by around 6 AM and i must say that invariably you wake your parents rather than the other way around. I am also releived and feel blessed that you are a happy person, something I freely admit that I am not. Me I wake up grumpy as a bear, YOU, you wake up singing like the robin.

       Anyways, after a mad dash to get breakfast ready, you fed, bather and clothed and then the same for me. I hand you over to your dad and say good bye to make my way to my office. Some days you wave me off with a smile and I go with just a faint pull on my heart. I keep leaning at the stairs to catch that last glimpse of your smiling face. Sometimes you give me a frown when I say bye and I dash down the stairs so that you dont see me crying and then end up wiping my tears all the way to the bus stop.

      All through my bus ride and then the 15 min walk to office I start to compose myself for the day ahead at work. I reach office and your dad normally gives me a call within 10 mins to say he's dropped you off at the nursery and you went smiling to your favourite staff there whose name is Noreen.

       Noreen by the way is the only Asian member of staff at your nursery and I wonder if you like her perhaps because she reminds you of me. Anyways, I feel so happy to hear you went smiling at the nursery and a part of me gets a bit jealous that someone else is enjoying your smiles and hugs during the day.

      As soon as I finish work I start running. My office is at the bottom of a very steeply inclined street. Walking up in a monstrous task by the end of which my legs are straining. Sure enough your dad calls and checks where I am and agrees to meet me half way so that I may have the pleasure of picking you up from your nursery. Your dad could actually be there before me since his office is closer but I do make him wait for me because I want to be the one who gets to whoop you around as you get picked from the nursery.

      The two of us together run to your nursery and while your dad sets up the pram, I tip toe into your nursery room and for a minute just stand there looking at you. Normally I find you sitting on someone's knee, playing a game or crawling up and down. You are also quite tired from all the play by the time I come to pick you. After a moment I call to you and as soon as you see me you put out your arms to be picked by me and give a small wail. I rush to comply and when I have you in my arms and have hugged you and showered you with my kisses, you quieten down and just gurgle happily at the rest of the kids in the nursery.

       The staff then normally gives me a daily information  sheet which tells me what you ate during the day, how much milk you drank, what activities you did during the day (bubbles, treasure basket, swing, went for a walk, songs, nursery rhymes, etc), how many times your nappy was changed and how many times did you nap and for how long.

        After that we do a quick good bye and I get you to your waiting dad and pram. You are happy to see dad but not to be seated in the pram. Its always a tussle trying to buckle you into your pram and I bribe you with baby organic biscuits to keep you happy and rush you home.

        At home, we drop everything and just sit and play with you. Gone are those days when tea was the first thing on the itinerary after work and at home. Just sitting with you , seeing you smile and tyring to talk your language.......bliss it is.

        You go to bed by 8 PM every night, invariably your dad sleeps off with you listening to my lullabies and I fall asleep looking at the two sleeping faces beside me. Good night my princess.

My Baby

There have been quite a few times in the recent months when I have thought about posting on my blog. Yet each time I never followed up the thought with action since I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say and how.

Today though after months of hibernation I finally realized that all I want to talk about is my daughter and whom I want to say it all to - is my daughter. Perhaps years later when my daughter reads this blog and its posts she may identify with me not as a mummy but as a woman and how I felt during different times. So, here goes -

Ashita, you are now a few days to go to be a 9 month old and you are truly the apple of my eye. Every time someone stops me on the street to gush over you m chest swells up with pride. Every time you smile sheepishly after I have scolded you, its as if someone reached in and squeezed my heart. J

These days you are trying to balance yourself on your legs and although I do adore your attempts, I must admit I am not too happy when you attempt it while bathing!! Your table manners have much to be desired, since you invariably end up spitting most of it once your tummy is full.

You know what, It’s been more than a year since I last went to work. A year when I have blissfully wallowed in pregnancy and then motherhood. So it was with mixed emotions that I received the news that I cracked a job interview and got an offer. I am to join work in a month’s time.

That is the reason I hug you tighter and hold you longer these days. That is also the reason why we are visiting nurseries these days, which has other kids your age and which I am evaluating. Although to be truthful every nursery we have been to so far you seem to be enjoying the experience. I have a feeling that when the time comes for you to be put into day care one of us will be wailing our heart out and its not going to be you.

Love you, my baby.

My Angel

I don’t suppose anyone is going to be the least interested in this blog update of mine. However, I wanted to jot this down before time entirely dims out this particular remembrance of mine.

Before I embarked on my 9 month journey and indeed many a time during the journey itself, I had enquired to quite a few members of my sex about the actual labor process. It quite irritated me then that I got vague responses, felt as if there was a conspiracy. What astounded me then was that how come all the women participated in this conspiracy, irrespective of age, caste, creed or financial position? What unseen power bound these women to secrecy?

Now that I myself have been through labor, I finally can say that tomorrow if anyone were to ask me about it, I would perhaps give the same vague answers that I was recipient of earlier.

Okay let me go through this step by step rather than jumping the gun, shall I? I had a c-section done and while I am definitely not going into the intricacies of it, I would like to say that before this one instance, a tetanus injection was the most painful interaction I had had with respect to hospitals and allopathic healing methods. Being wheeled into the labor room on the fateful day, brought to my mind all those movies where the bulb placed above the words ‘OPERATION THEATRE’ would ominously light up with dramatic background music. While on the operation table itself, I had the misfortune of looking up and finding the proverbial huge light placed right above. Hmm…..well it wasn’t the best of situations to be in and the nurses and docs all donned in green overalls with their face masks on weren’t helping to lighten the atmosphere other.

The two low points of the entire situation was one while I was being given anesthesia and two when the affects of anesthesia had worn off.  To have someone poke you with a needle somewhere along your spine is definitely not my cup of tea. Once the anesthesia had worn off and I started feeling the aftermath of c-section, I recall thinking to myself that I could happily murder all those women who chose not to warn me of what actually happens. It’s definitely not a joy ride then and I was wondering to myself why women voluntarily embark on it anyways!!!

However, I also, vividly recall the moment my bundle of joy appeared and my first view of her.  Every passing moment thereafter, I have looked into her sleeping face and felt indescribable tender vulnerable feelings.

The memory of labor itself is fading into the background, instead time now seems to have started from the moment she was born and not anytime before. My 9 months of pregnancy seems to be a thing from the distant past and my angel, my only reality of my present and future.

My apologies to all those women who are yet to embark on this journey and may at some point in future come to me to enquire about it. It is not my wish to hide what happens but rather the clichéd sentiment that once I saw my baby I forgot everything else that will make me give you vague answers.