The longest night ever..

Breathe... Breathe.. Breathe... Try to sleep.. Don't turn around.. What was that? Did I hear the door creak? Nope..  Maybe I should check. Nope. Shouldn't. She said she'd call. Is that knocking I hear? Okay I'll just go check in the other room.

Fast asleep. They're all fast asleep. I should just lay down and try to sleep. She'll call me if there's anything. I should just sleep.

Eyes shut. Blink. Blink. Blink.. Nope. Not happening. I can't sleep.
🎵No sleep..no sleep until I'm done with finding the answer...🎵 Rasmus lyrics echoing in my head.

He's snoring next to me. HOW. How is he able to sleep. I feel so lost. I feel so alone. 

I feel like giving him a whack!

This is so wrong. When will this night end. This is the longest night ever.
Wait.. did I hear the door creak?




My baby's sleeping with her grandma tonight. And I.... I'm counting minutes and seconds to daybreak 💔

Namaste Auntyji..

Dear Auntyji..

In my 30 years of existence, you have been a constant source of (unwanted) pressure for me.

You have time and again reminded me that there are things I must do and things I mustn't to find a place in your book of appropriate existence.

When I was a kid, you reminded me not to step out in the sun. You even forbade your own kids from playing with me lest my "dirty" skin color rubbed off onto them.
A little older and you decided the company I should keep and the length of the clothes I should wear.
You shook your head at my too wide hips. I was sooo not marriage material.
I must've cleared a dozen rounds and beaten a dozen competitors to get that job which made me run around and tackle every challenge thrown at me just as well as anyone else would, if not better. But the position of the hour hand on your clock, when I returned home decided my character.
My freedom screamed affairs and a loose character. When I finally tied the knot, my folks wouldn't let me spend even a weekend with them fearing you'd think I had returned for good. My trips to a doctor spelt "fertility issues" to you.
You prayed I'd get a second chance to prove my "worth" when my daughter was born and now every time you see her, you ask her why "Mummy ne kuch khilaya nahiii?"

Auntyji, I'm sure you have a lot more to say. After all you and I still have most of our lives ahead of us.

But I want you to know I'm done with you.
Every time you judged me for my color, you taught your kids it was okay to discriminate.
When you said that I  "asked for it" you taught your son that it was okay to molest.
When you sympathised over my daughter's birth, you told your own daughter how much you regretted having her.

Namaste ..... Auntyji.

My Journey through the Birthing Canal..

They say when a baby is born, a mother is born too. But that wasn't the case with me.

My baby was now a whole new entity outside my body. She had her own voice. She had her own little body and now when she was hungry, everyone knew about it, loud and clear. But i felt nothing. Sure, I was a weak mess when they handed her to me. I cried uncontrollably. And I couldn't wait for them to stitch me up so I could meet her again.

But when we met again, I realised she was here to stay. And she wouldn't stop crying. And she was too tiny. Almost not there. Fragile was an understatement.

To top it all she was nothing like what I had known babies to be. I was told my baby would know I was her mom the moment I touched her or called her. But this one seemed to not know me at all. She screamed when I tried to feed her. She screamed when I tried to cuddle her. She screamed and screamed and screamed.

We took her home. The screaming continued. The attempts to feed continued. I was starting to lose my mind.

She barely had any milk from me or the formula. But I didn't know how much was too much...or too little. By the tenth day she felt warm. I was soon driving to the chemist to get her some Crocin. The next day we were standing in line, waiting for our turn to meet the pediatrician. One look at the baby and she screamed "This baby is severely dehydrated! Please admit her!"

Evu's hospital tag 

Had I done something wrong? They didn't know my struggle to feed her everyday. 

They took her away. Connected her with a cannula and some pipes. I could only see her from behind the glass door now. She barely occupied any space in that cradle in the NICU while they took her urine and blood samples for testing. They put her in a separate enclosure. The Septic Nursery they called it. They said she had some infection and couldn't be kept with the other babies. And just like that, for the very first time since she had been conceived, she was alone.

The doctor said to me, "Don't cry darling....It'll dry up your milk". Maybe this was one of those mommy challenges. To physically restrain my tears from welling up so my breasts wouldn't dry out.

The spasms of pain every time the stitches tugged at my belly with every move were the only reminder that it was all real. "You can watch her from outside during visiting hours. The mother can take her for feeds", they said. I used those opportunities to show her to all the family members waiting tirelessly outside. And then what I thought was unthinkable happened. My ever strong husband, a new born dad himself, broke down at the sight of her weak body wrapped in those hospital rags. If everything that happened till now didn't shake me out of my numbness..This sure did. My rock had crumbled before my eyes. And I was responsible for it.

They said it was a UTI. They said she suffered from septicemia. Something about bacteria in the stool finding its way into her blood stream. The cannula changed its location every three days.

Days seemed blurry. They would start with me pumping my milk into a little can, driving to the hospital, waiting to feed her, rushing home and getting back to pumping all over again. 6hours of continuous pumping and I'd have barely enough to feed her tiny tummy once. And God forbid in my hurry if I knocked that can over, which I did once, I'd have to depend on the formula feed at the NICU and deal with the disapproving looks of the nurses there.

I was now labelled as INSENSITIVE by the nurses. Insensitive for not plastering myself against the walls of NICU and waiting there 24*7 for my child's recovery. Insensitive for not bringing enough milk to the nursery and relying on their formula feeds. My mother, who was unhappy that I was spending my post partum days running around the NICU, had to be physically restrained when she heard the nurses anoint me with this new title.

The hecticness of the time kept me going. I had lost track of time and days. Just when I almost gave up one day, news of people praying in church and in the seminary for a 13 days old baby gave me the strength to push.

The cannula had reached her ankle now. I heard her screams when they put it there. It was different from her usual screams. It would get my insides churning for the next many days. I moved into a hospital room so I could be with her 24*7. Each day was about the grams of weight she gained....or lost. The grams decided my performance as a mother.

Then after the longest 10 days ever, her blood reports came clear of any sign of infection. I remember my husband, running from the NICU to the hospital room with her in his hands after her last shot of antibiotics, eager to finally take her home. Away from all the needles and pain.

Pushing my girl out of me didn't make me a mother enough. The mother in me was completely born when I ran, drove, fought my tears, pumped milk and finally took my baby home a second time.

Why am I telling you all this? Because my little girl turned One a few days ago. And all I could think of during the days leading to her birthday, was the time we almost lost her. And how the prayers of many brought her back to us.

The struggle is real..

When waking up in the morning washes you with a feeling of dread..

When the thought of dealing with the little one's tantrums make your limbs feel heavier..

When a migraine, however strong does not entitle you to bury your head under the blanket and rest..

When you can't  run to the washroom to relieve yourself and just have to hold it in till someone comes home from work at the end of the day..

When having a peaceful bath and that too daily is more of a luxury..

When you realise that you don't have the luxury of choice when it comes to choosing between the kid and that much needed break..

When a vacation basically just means fretting over the baby like every other day, but outside your comfort zone..

When you're just as tired as everyone else, or maybe more but hitting the bed seems more like a distant dream cz you got the hyper little one to deal with no matter how tired you may be..

When the doctor says you need to put your feet up and rest for the next three days and all you can think of is how you'll manage caring for the baby with a swollen foot..

When the upcoming weekend makes you feel hopeful of having some quality time with your partner, maybe a quiet date to distract you from the humdrum of motherhood, but turns out that unlike you, your partner has an option to curl up and relax till the next working day..

When the weekend in reality just exists to relax everyone else except you..

When you see the entire world, your loved ones and your girlfriends moving past you to higher accomplishments..But you're standing right there with a bowl of mashed veggies, a bottle of water and vomit on  your clothes..

When you're surrounded by a supportive family and yet feel lonely..

One would say Welcome to Motherhood.
As much as I love my little one,  unlike other moms I can't bring myself to say I'd go through it all over again.  The joys of motherhood are many, and the best maybe yet to come. But I can't go through this pain and the loneliness all over again. This ghost of postpartum tends to overshadow every silver lining.

I may seem like a bad mother. Maybe I am. I'm not ungrateful for the blessing that is my child.

But when getting by each day and each hour gets tough and tougher, the struggle to survive is indeed very real.

What they really mean by "Good News"

Ever wondered what would happen if people really spoke their mind?

Especially when it was about life changing situations?

I'm almost 7months pregnant and even though my journey from the 1st month hasn't been as bad as most women have it, it hasn't been as smooth either!

Almost everyday I think of the many women (including those in my own family) who chased me for the 'Good News'  from my very first day of being a married woman. I recall our Wedding Reception where every family that came to bless us consisted of kids who congratulated the decorated victims of the evening, followed by their mommies and grannies who'd whisper an "अब जल्दी Good News दे दो" into my ear before they proceeded to exit the stage. This was followed by 3 more years of constant reminders about my speeding body clock, my 'duty' to give my parents and in-laws a grandchild, and to my husband a child. Advertisements of Pregnancy kits showed happy women swinging around with the joy of having conceived. Movies showed the expecting Daughters in law being showered with sweets and savouries and pampered by everyone else around them.

What a pretty picture!

When the Good News finally happened (not under all this pressure but of my own accord) did I realise the meaning of the words: "So Great the Con of Man" (err....WoMan!)

As each symptom hit me one by one, I felt more and more bitter towards the ladies who had demanded me to dive into this phase with their sugar coated words.

So here's a list of things that no one tells you about when they advise you to plan for a family. Things I wish they had said to me instead of the Screensaver Words: Good News.

1. When will you start to feel like you've been running a marathon everyday?

Even before I discovered I was pregnant, I noticed myself feeling drained of energy by the end of each day. Even though my daily schedules didn't involve any major travelling or running around, by 8pm I'd be exhausted and on most days, knocked out cold in bed. Initial complaints to my mom-in-law ( a doctor by profession) were met with "You're not eating enough to get any energy". 

I was stumped. I never had any qualms eating vegetables and was even raised by mom as a no-fuss eater at the dinner table. In fact I used to think my diet was the healthiest one in my home! And still it wasn't enough? Was I a woman or an elephant to be needing a heavier diet?

2. When will you start eating like a PIG?

My normal diet each day consisted of cereals and milk in the morning, roti and vegetables in the afternoon, a fruit in the evening after I reached home from work and roti or rice with vegetables for dinner. Anything more than this and I'd feel stuffed!

Now suddenly, I was hungry before breakfast, at breakfast, after breakfast, before lunch, at lunch, after lunch, before dinner, at dinner, after dinner! Even in the middle of the night, I was now waking up to raid the fridge and kitchen. My lunchbox had suddenly converted from a one bowl package to a towering stack of 3 meals plus fruits and sometimes munchies! I started slipping out during prayers and Mass at Church cause of my hunger pangs. 

My husband took absolute joy (and still continues to) in feeding me at untimely hours since he'd get to indulge in whatever I was eating too. I was now every foodie husband's dream come true. A Foodie Wife.

3. When will you become a PEEing machine?

As much as I tried to have a daily quota of 8 glasses of water, I never seemed to reach even the halfway mark. Consequently my trips to the washroom were very limited as well. 

But now, I was running to the toilet 7-8 times a day. Beginning from dawn when I'd be woken from my sleep by a ready to burst bladder till the next day's dawn aka Bladder Call. I wasn't even having as much water as I was peeing out!

I wondered if I needed to check for diabetes!

All this, when I still hadn't discovered that I was pregnant.

A few days later when I thought my monthly clock was acting up, I took the test. It was Positive.

That explained a lot of things.

Added to this, I developed a chronic cough that would last for another 2-3 months minimum...Everytime I coughed now, I peed a little! Imagine my frustration of having wet patches on my behind every time I was out. My joy of not having to use another sanitary napkin for another nine months was soon outlived.

4. When will you start hating your favorite foods?

While people usually connect pregnancy with the concept of cravings, no one EVER mentions the aversions that come with the package! 

Even before the test confirmed my doubts, I began detesting the taste and smell of cheese. Now almost overnight I stopped enjoying digging into that bowl of my much loved pasta alfredo. That once tempting pizza slice tasted like rotting food! Oh how I still miss having these two cheesy delights! 

The later months saw me gagging at the touch of anything with wheat! Rotis.... wheat bread.... All Banned! Milk refused to be pally with my tummy anymore. 

And the smell of spices and once tempting flavours cooking in the kitchen seemed so toxic to my nostrils that I avoided stepping into the kitchen for a very long time! 

One could say I was taking undue advantage of my mom-in-law! And if you think I have my cravings to compensate for and keep me happy, let me tell you......I still have none!

5. How about some Gingivitis?

I have an inherent fear of doctors, DENTISTS, needles, anything and everyone that can poke and prick me. 

I can empathise with a ferocious rottweiler named 'Tiger' who turns into 'Shaky' when its taken to a vet! And I try my best to keep my teeth and mouth in basic good health only so that I can avoid that dreaded visit to the Dentist! Imagine my shock when one day my mouth began to feel sore to the point that I thought I was soon going to have an ulcer attack in there. 

Fortunately and unfortunately, my sister in law is a dentist. So very soon I found myself uttering words I never thought I'd have the courage to: Can you please check if there's any ulcer or cavity coming up in my mouth? Ultimate horror movie it felt like to me, to sit with my mouth wide open while she poked and tapped at every crevice only to conclude that my gums were swollen and causing me the soreness. Apparently its normal during pregnancy. Not my idea of a GOOD NEWS !

6. When do we see you complaining about acidity and digestion issues?

There was always a stick placed next to my plate of food when I was a kid. It was a stern reminder from my mother for any potential tantrums for the food made at home. So my sister and I were absolute no-fuss kids who would wipe the plate clean after each meal, even if what was served was our least favorite item. 

Now as if the  aversions weren't enough to make me stick my nose up at certain foods, I had realised that my stomach was incapable of digesting anything that had too much gas or contained even moderate spice, thereby narrowing my intake all the more. 

Chhole bhature, rajma chawal, moong dal, aloo ghobi, typical south Indian delicacies were all blacklisted now. 

While my mother came to terms with it calling it just a phase, my mom-in-law had a hard time adjusting to the now picky bahu! Every night I'd still be struggling with acidity and heartburn. Digene was my new agony aunt, my BFF! A constant bloated feeling in my tummy almost tempted me to try jumping into a pool to see if I'd float! 

7. You're not Woman Enough without a Migraine!

Gods of Headaches always had a bone to pick against me and this seemed like a perfect time to wage a full fledged war! My headaches initially were all thanks to blocked sinuses that sent throbbing pains coursing through my head, making me dive for cover at the slightest source of light around me.

Now it seemed to me as though my headache had altered its nature into a sharp nagging pain on one side of my face. It reached a point where I couldn't even differentiate whether it was my head that was paining, or if I had been boxed in an ear, or if I had lost some teeth! 

And since preggy ladies are advised to avoid taking any meds without consulting their doctor, this new trend of migraines took me directly to the labour room. I soon  found myself lying next to 6 other heavily pregnant and ready-to-pop ladies so my doc could inject me with a painkiller that wouldn't bring harm to my baby. My challenge was to fall asleep while the 6 other ladies in varying degrees of labor pain bellowed for relief!

8. Lets teach you some Physics!

The term Centre of Gravity was as foreign as French to me in school. But Mother Nature decided to teach me this one concept in the most unexpected manner. One moment I'd gracefully slide out of my car seat and the next moment I'd be tipping over like an inebriated soul. Its my tummy that decides which way I should be headed now. In my mom-in-law's words: I waddle now. Like a penguin. Or maybe a swinging pendulum?

So that's 8 new things no one ever told me about when they wanted me to start a family of my own! 8 new things I never found on a google search but only in the nodding heads of my mom and mom-in-law.
When I asked my Mom-in-law why women never reveal all these issues in advance to their younger counterparts, she gave me a simple reply: If all this were such common knowledge, no woman would choose to walk down the road to mommyhood!

I have half a mind to catch hold of those famous movie stars and models who pose so cheerfully on pregnancy strip packets and make this entire ordeal look like a walk down the red carpet! 

I still have 3months more to go before I pop and I'm already bracing myself for not just the side-effects coming my way but also for the fine lines between each pregnancy woe. But I guess some things you can never be ready enough for till you don't encounter it yourself. 

So Great the Con of Man.....WOMAN!!

The Right Thing to Do.

I've had the fortune of watching two movies in a span of 24hours. The Blind Side, thanks to Netflix and Airlift, courtesy a family outing to the the theatres.

There's nothing in common between the two. One is a Hollywood flick that earned Sandra Bullock an Oscar and the other a Bollywood new release, which Akshay Kumar may soon be able to add to his collection of patriotism invoking films. And probably if I had seen them even a week apart, I would still have been moved by their underlying message but not so much so as to pen down a post here.

The Blind Side is a sports drama based on the real life of Michael Oher, a homeless teenager who was blessed to be taken in by a Christian philanthropic family and went on to be a renowned American football player. Its a classic story of a homeless child being given a second chance to life. The moment we see Michael being taken in by the Tuohy family, we know this'll be a good ending. Its predictable.

But what I never saw coming, hit me like a train till the very end. It was the weight of being a Christian that the Tuohy family carried on their shoulders throughout the movie. 

Cut-to Airlift. 

The movie is based on the efforts of a Mathunny Mathews (portrayed as Ranjit Katyal) who along with some friends took it on themselves to help the many Indians stuck in Kuwait during the Iraq war. I had heard about the Iraq invasion from my uncle and aunt who themselves had to come away from there because of the unrest. But to see it on the big screen, I was out of words. While I'm nobody to comment on the production and directorial quality, I was again able to take back from the movie what I had learnt about the spirit of the protagonist.

Michael Oher did not make it big because he had the potential to be an ace offensive lineman. He rose from his misery because a few people took their Christian duty very seriously. At no point in the film were the Tuohys seen reading a Bible, attending Church or  engaging with pastors. They were all about being the message themselves. They constantly reminded each other what being a Christian meant. 

Mathunny Mathews did not stay back in Kuwait to be glorified as a hero 20 years on. He recognised the need to be responsible for those around him. His conscience did not allow him to just look out for his family and get them out of the war torn country and leave behind many others who didn't even know him then. For those unfortunate many, he would have been just another lucky person who made it to safety. Many things could've gone wrong. Many things did go wrong. But we know the end result. Hundreds and thousands of Indians today still owe their lives to the grit of Mathews, Harbhajan Vedi, Thomas Chandy and the ones who never gave up on them.

Which brings me to the point of this entire post. 

When was the last time we were selfless for someone who was of no consequence to us? Does our conscience twitch when we hear stories of simple people who in their own simple ways made big differences in the lives of others? Have we in the race to survive our daily struggles kicked off the strand of humanity in our DNAs?

Not all of us are endowed with riches, I agree. But it doesn't take a fortune to share a smile, share that untouched tiffin you're taking home or to just handover a bag of goodies to the kids you see at the traffic signal every evening. You might just give someone a new reason to live.

These movies speak of a conscience we all need. Next time you're waiting for the traffic ahead of you to clear, try not to overtake from the wrong side to get ahead. Wait it out....or even better, step out and try to clear the cause for the block if you're the gutsy types. But whatever you do, don't be the reason for that teenager in the next car to believe that taking the wrong side is the perfect solution out of the mess. Our actions are the message people take home everyday.

Its what defines the nature of tomorrow. A million things could be beyond our control today. Oil prices, inflation, cost of living, work pressures, traffic, social ills and everything else in Pandora's box. But how we let them affect our conscience is what defines our SELF and the world our children will grow up to see.

Praying for a BOY!!

In 2012, Nirbhaya was an eye opener for me. I realised that despite living in a country, where our immediate former President was a lady, we still lived in a world where in the race of hormones, testosterone seemed to get an upper hand. While Arnab Goswami handled verbal wars with political & religious leaders, many I knew faced smaller battles from their own people. It ranged from  "was she wearing jeans ? maybe a skirt?" ..... "women nowadays think they can do what they want" (yes I've heard that one!) ..."Good girls don't venture out so late at night" ....to  "boys will be boys".

While these are everyday tidbits you'll hear from the neighbourhood aunty who sits on the stool with her friends soaking up the winter sun, it dawned on me that we have been blaming men for being oppressive to women for no real fault of their own! 

We women, ourselves, are responsible for this big imbalance of thought in our world. The male species had only been emulating what they had been taught by their own parents....and more precisely, their own mothers.

Despite streaks of rebellion in our growing years, my mother ensured a firm hold on my sister & me. We were constantly reminded to sit with our legs crossed, to not argue, to also have an ambition and choose any career we wished. But again we were to keep in mind that at no point were our actions to bring any dishonour or disrespect to our father. 

Marriage taught me that letting my husband wash his own plate, prepare his own breakfast (and mine too) or insisting to teach him sew his own button made me an incompetent wife. Thankfully my husband felt otherwise so it became our little thing to share chores. But there are many out there who aren't as open to such an arrangement.

So now when life's taken the next turn and made me responsible for another life in the making, I've been busy praying for a daughter whom I can teach to be confident and chase her dreams irrespective of what anyone says or opines. A girl in whom I can instill the courage to ensure her own safety because again, Boys will be Boys. I'll never want to teach her what she can and can't do. What she can and can't wear.

And then it struck me...who defines this one line? That boys will be boys?  Is it not the parents who teach their sons "Boys don't Cry"? Why should one day, my daughter have to fear the opposite sex as a potential threat to her?

Why are comments like " A Man's Place is not in the Kitchen" so common?  Why do we teach our men to assume that their sisters or wives will clean up after them? Who teaches them to have an "upper hand" when dealing with the wife? Who teaches them the meaning of  "BE A MAN"? And who defines the meaning of The Weaker Sex?

When will we focus more on raising them as better humans who share just as much responsibility in daily life as their wives do? When will our sons stop sizing up each woman on the road from head to toe and back? When will they stop being seen as potential threat for every girl's safety?

and I realised, the answer to my questions, was in me. When I teach my son to be a respectful human at home and outside, the women around him will know that definitions of being a MAN are different from what they've known till now. 

When I teach him to satisfy his own food cravings and fix his own broken buttons his future generations will also be raised knowing that God indeed made us to complement one another and not to pull each other down. 

The change in my world comes from what I teach my son. I have the power to make my world the way I've dreamt it to be. I am now praying for a Boy, to finally raise the Man of my Dreams.