My inspiration

I believe every individual is different and unique. And logically then, each person should be an inspiration to the other; to strive to become better or the best. But that’s now how our mind works. There are only few people who touch our lives forever and become an inspiration for us, and stay with us till eternity. For me this person was my naani. She died early, I believe I was 11- 12 years old.

She was a born fighter and a smiling one. She was (and still is) my personal and living ‘laughing buddha’. She had the habit of taking everything in her stride. It was in her being to be like that. My mother tells me that her family underwent a serious financial crisis. My nana and naani had to bring up 3 children and were almost penniless. My naani stepped in and supported my grandpa. She took up stitching clothes. Many believed that she should just take care of home. Many believed that she was showing off and putting her husband down. She had a beautiful habit of “shutting off” negativity. She fought it off. She worked till she felt her family was stable. I would always play with the sewing machine. In winters, I would mess her knitting. I would spoiling the adjustments and watch her put it back to the ‘normal’. I wonder today how she would never scold me for doing that. Her reaction was to set it back to normal every time. Patiently.  

With her being around, life was always fun and very relaxed. She made me believe I could do whatever I wanted to. And if I was not getting it, I was not “wanting it enough’. Many things came easily to us, and for many things we have to fight. Big deal!

We would play together and make the dough for lunch, and sometimes peel fruits for juice, sometimes fill up vegetable with masala. Even the most mundane of things were pure fun. I remember her saying “yes” to everything. She would cook for us, clean the house, and find enough time to play with us and read newspapers and magazines. She was up to date and had strong opinions. She was too energetic to get tired.

The best part of being around her was to play with her hair. I would love to tangle and untangle her long hair. One day, for the first time she stopped me from taking off her scarf. I remember my mother telling me she was ill. She died about a year after from cancer. I learnt she had cancer much later. My parents never told me the disease she died from.

During those days, she fought to recover, and to be well. I know that now. At that time, everything seemed very normal to me. I don’t remember her being sad during those months. There were hospital visits, doctors coming home, but it never felt abnormal. I always thought she would be fine. And that it was just a phase. I was sure she fight out this as well.

Throughout her life, she taught me through her actions, through her being. There were no lessons or “heart to heart” chats. I remember doing things with her and feeling loved. Her death was the first death I witnessed as a child. And I learnt that things changed constantly and sometimes they come as a shock. But that’s life!  Sometimes when I try to imagine her face, I get the feeling of being loved and cherished. I remember it is ok to struggle but happiness and being joyful is not being connected to struggle! I remember enjoying every moment of life and living completely, for that is what we are here for.        

A letter by a daughter to her mum!

Entering thirties is quite something. Either one’s friends’ start getting married, or we ourselves get married. Earlier kids would address you as “didi. But be near 30s, and you are addressed as masi, bua, and sometimes aunty! Like one my friend puts it, others make you age eventually!

I write this post as a girl nearing 30s, thoroughly enjoying her life and her freedom, but concerned about what she sees around. I write this post as a girl who is humbled and feels gratitude for all the love she has received and wishes if it was true for many others too.

A letter by a daughter to her mum!

Mum, you mean the world to me. I have learnt to see the world from your eyes and your feelings. When I was a child, you were my idol. I worshiped and prayed to be like you. But life changes I guess when a girl starts growing up.

I remember the time when I first started bleeding and you freaked out. I had come off age and it worried you. I wish you had celebrated my womanhood. I would have felt good and confident about myself. I would have may be loved myself.

I remember how you asked me to be careful of men. That they are cheats and that its best to keep a safe distance. I wish you taught me trust people and judge them by instincts. As a wife I feel I would trust my husband a little more. May be I would not be skeptical if he  spoke with a girl. May be I would respected his privacy and his relationships. But I am insecure now and can’t have him off my sight. I feel I am chocking him but don’t know what to do about it.

I remember how as a child you made me read those religious books. You laid my value system, my faith, ethics based on the holy books written centuries ago with archaic laws and beliefs. I wish you had taught me also to believe in myself and have faith in my own goodness. May be today I would not be taking beatings from my husband, believing it’s my fate and destiny. May be it would have been easier for me to be out of this abusive relationship without thinking god would punish my baby for my ‘deed’ of leaving my husband.

I remember as a child, you would dress up when we would go out, put before others your best, just so others wouldn't see your scars, your sadness beneath. You made be believe that what is outside is more important. You made me believe what ‘outsiders’ think is important. I wish you had taught me to believe in myself and in my happiness too. May be I could spread my wings and fly off to a world I love, to be what I wish to be and yearn. But today I fear to step out of the house. I fear what others would think if they know. I am so confused Mum. 

You sent me to the best of schools Mum, you allowed me to work. I wish you had let me made my own decisions too. Today I would not be so scared to leave my husband for good. I know tomorrow also, I will be beaten up. I know tomorrow also he will humiliate me. But I live on thinking my child needs a family. I still think that the guy who has given his sperms is his true family. I live with him because I don’t know what I would do without him.

I have learnt a lot of things from you Mum. But in this journey of life, I have also learnt that we are all responsible for our own actions. I have learnt what you give you get back. 

I know you love me Mum, and you have the best in your heart for me. I know you care for me, I know you protected me, but it has now become my weakness. I try to break free but an invisible spring pulls me back. I know you want me to be happy but with what you have taught me, I don’t feel happiness anywhere near. I feel I have become like a robot, taking in everything, doing everything that is asked of me, expected of me.

Mum, I want my daughter to fly- always. I want my daughter to love herself, to live life on her terms. I want my daughter to credit herself for her happiness. I want her to be loving, caring and strong too. 

Mum, I hope that my daughter never writes such a letter to me.