Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Bikini Body (A Poem)

A bikini body? Well not quite
More like a body in a bikini
With curves and folds
Sometimes more folds than curves
Folding soccer jerseys
While driving a teeny bit fast on curvy bends
Timing is everything
After all little league matches don't happen everyday
Neither do ballet performances
Daily happenings are morning bus rush
Evening homework hell
And weekend extra curriculars
So what is that one additional curve?
Or those innocuously looking folds?
Sometimes accompanied with a stretch mark or two
Or that ominous C-section scar
That voice that says "yes baby I will be with you in a minute"
But the tone that whispers "just another few minutes of peace please"
The hand that grasps the little fingers
The hug that is always a little tighter than expected
The fold in the laugh lines
The curve in the tired smile
Every fold has a story
Every curve a history
But few would care to listen
After all it's only a body in a bikini
Not a bikini body

Saturday, July 26, 2014

A child's plea

Give me the gift of stories
Present me the power of dreams
Grant me the blessing of imagination 
Mother then you'll see me succeed

Don't tell me what to fear
Stop me from fleeing away
Don't wrap me up in cotton wool
And mother see me play

Forget about tomorrow
The present is so much more
Let's live in the here and now
Then mother watch me soar

Let us begin to be confidantes
The ones who comfort and care
Let us share our secrets
Tell me one mother, can you dare?

Watch me blossom
Watch me bloom
Join me in my triumphs
Hold me in my doom

I am no longer frail
I am small no more
Treat me like you would a friend
And mother watch me grow

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Of Mothers and Daughters. Happy Mother's Day


Of Mothers and Daughters

When you become a mom yourself, it makes you aware of everything you have put your mum through. And you finally understand what unconditional love is all about. But you also get a little lost in your own motherhood trials and joys that the time you had in your life for your own mum, goes down. Though her value goes up exponentially. 

My post yesterday spoke about the beautiful bond between mums and sons. Mothers and daughters have an equally beautiful though a different type of bond. 

Mothers and daughters are naturally tied together in love. But this bond also has a friendship. It has a kinship. Its based on shared experiences and common likes.  It has its ground in similar desires and subsequently similar scarifies. It's a relationship of equal footing, pretty much from the onset. There is a tinge of competitiveness. And there is bulk of appreciation. 

Its about routine conversations tempered with family gossip.

About having mum recipes yet always feeling that it never turns out like hers.

About shared experiences and hidden secrets.

About hand-me-down saris and jhumkas that are still your favourite ones.

About eye contacts that pass messages oblivious to everyone else in the room.

My mum has always been my voice of reason. She never minced her words and held up the mirror no matter how the ugly the reflection was. I am forever grateful for that. She showed me my true self, while constantly encouraging me to better myself.

There were as many pats on the back for job well done as there pushes to trudge me along. There were as many encouraging words as there were rule books. As much laughter as there were tears. And memories to last a lifetime.

The mother-daughter bond grows stronger over the years. When I was a a toddler, I was such a daddy's girl- to some extent still am. I used to lie to my dad that my mum scolded me, just so that he would take me in his lap and console me. It drove my mum mad, as I can so imagine now. 

As I grew older I confided in her more and more. I used to come back from school and sit on the kitchen counter and tell her everything that happened in the day while she made my favourite bread pakoras. 

In my teen years she took me shopping even though it exasperated her that I was not a careful shopper. I did not bother looking at ten shops before buying one item. I bought the first one I liked. She still can't fathom my shopping ways. 

As I grew older she became my friend and was always around to listen. The endless stories and the unending sagas. They grew more complicated and intense with time, but she listened patiently. Like she does till date. 

All mums make sacrifices. My mum made many too. She did not buy a new sari for her niece's wedding so I could buy contact lenses instead of wearing my glasses. She gave up eating meat years ago, but made the best koftas and fried fish for us. She walked to the market instead of taking the rickshaw so she could save money for that extra chocolate bar. She went to school to copy pages and pages of notes when I was bed ridden at home with a fracture. She stayed up nights when I was studying for my board exams and made me coffee in the wee hours of the morning. 

I can't possibly  list everything she has done for me. Even a million pages won't be sufficient.

Mama I love you. I may not say it as often now. But I love you so much. 

Yes mothers and daughters share a special bond. It's the bond above all else. It's the bond of motherhood. 

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Of Mothers and Sons

I cried. In the doctors clinic and then sitting on a bench on Orchard Road. In the middle of Singapore's bustling shopping street. I cried. Actually I bawled. Reason was that the gynae had just informed me that I was going to have a boy.

A boy?! What was I supposed to do with a BOY? I could hear my dreams being smashed like glass that cracks when a rock is thrown at it. Dreams of ribbons and laces. Or reading Enid Blyton novels under the afternoon sun in a park. Of playing dress up. Of having a room full of Barbie dolls. Or sharing secrets over the kitchen counter. And watching old episodes of 'Gilmore Girls' together. Of doll houses and tutus. It was all over now!

I know. All one should ever hope for is a healthy baby. I was VERY grateful that I was going to be a mum. I wanted to be one since I was 18. This was happening 10 years too late. So I was extremely thrilled and immensely excited. But I would be lying if I don't say that I was disappointed too.







However nothing could have prepared me for what would happen when I held Sanil in my arms for the first time. There is a gush of love that you never knew you could feel for any one individual. There was feeling of intense protectiveness. I will never ever let anything happen to my little baby. I will shield him from every pain, every hurt. And in a few days I had to take him for his first vaccination and I cried. He didn't. But I did. The doctor looked at me and sympathetically said 'If you cry every time, he cries, you won't last very long'. I though b%^&% in my head but smiled politely.

Now am sure every mum feels like that about their newborn. However as time progressed I realized that a bond that a mother shares with her son, is totally something else. I once read somewhere 'Being a mother to a son is like being the only star in your very own Hollywood production'. You are the be-all-and-end-all of his existence. At least till the girlfriends start circling like vultures. Ok. I know I am being nasty, but I can't imagine myself actually liking any of his girlfriends. And I digress...

There is still time for that...for now I want to only think of him as my baby.

When he was 3 months old I started work again. I came home in the evenings and held him in my arms to feed him, he would hold my finger so tightly. Like he would never let go of me.


He used to sleep in his cot in our room. He never cried when he woke up. But I knew his routine. So I used to wake up at 7 am and look over his cot. And there was the most beaming smile I could ever receive from anyone. He would raise his arms and I scooped him up and gave him a tight hug.
Since he could talk, he told me everything. And I mean everything. Every small minute detail that happened in the day. When he started with 'Mama you know what' or 'Mama I have to tell you something', I knew long stories with dramatic expressions would fill the next 10 minutes. I listened patiently. I never wanted to story to end.

Boys are boys. They are boisterous, loud and sometimes obnoxious. They prefer soccer to books and 'Iron Man' to 'Little Women'. They don't see anything wrong in being dirty or muddy. And can't fathom what's the big fuss about clean floors.


They look up to their dads , their uncles, their grand-dads and want to be the 'man'. However they become little babies with the mamas. Mamas who cuddle them, wipe their tears and nurse the bruised knees. Also the same mamas who push them to their potential. Who steer them when they seem to lose their way. Who know commanding won't get you anywhere. But minor cajoling will. Who encourage their passions. And help them overcome their shortcomings. Who are honest yet loving. Truthful yet caring. I am so not one of the mum who believes her son can do no wrong. In fact sometimes I feel I am harsher than necessary. I can't raise a delusional child who thinks he's always right. I can only encourage him constantly to be the best he can be.



Mums are the only ones who boys are truly vulnerable with. They open their hearts and share their souls.

When they are rude, you know they are actually scared

When they are grinning, you know they have done something naughty

When they are concentrating, you know it's really important

When they are angry, you know they are actually sad

When they are annoyed, you know they are actually disappointed

And you learn this very quickly. So you adapt your reaction to the real emotion behind the mask.

It's an unending bond. That becomes looser when they approach their tweens. They become more sullen, more uncommunicative and sometimes aloof. Their eyes are glued to cricket and fingers are busy with the iPad. Their friends become the centre of their existence.

And just when you worry that you have lost them, they give you a tight hug out of nowhere and beg you to play UNO with them.

You just have to be there. Sometimes be content to watch from the sidelines. And wait. Patiently. Because they will come back to you. May be not as often as when they were 5. But they will. And get interested in what interests them. Even if it means watching reruns of IPL and hearing stories about soccer goals till your head hurts. Or even learning the ridiculous Gangnam Style...and enjoying it


It is an eternal bond. It never breaks. And when it gets loose, let go, instead of holding on.

I don't know if I am successfully doing it, but am sure hell trying.

Happy Mothers Day!

'All I needed to do to find the perfect man, was to give birth to one' Miranda Hobbes Sex and the City

My newborn baby! At the naming ceremony
At B-Ita's Wedding. All of 11 months

Awwwww
Big Brother to Little Myrah