When a mother questions...A lesson learnt

Of everything in this universe, a mother is supposed to be, and is the most selfless being. What happens when a mother questions her son, "What have you done for me?"
Can she ask a question like that in the first place? No, I am not being emo nor am I hosting a SMJ here...its a perfectly straight question which set me thinking.
Let me deconstruct a situation.

A single mother chooses to stay and help the lazy, drama queen, scheming, street-smart daughter over the indifferent, struggling, taken-for-granted BUT clean-good-hearted son. Son says he needs her help. Mother cites duty to the daughter primary, and questions the son if he has ever helped her in fulfilling any of her responsibilities, or atleast offered help, or in the least case asked her how she was.

Despite holding immense respect and love for the mother, the son never did. He was dumbfounded at the question. Never did he expect such questions to be posed even in his most frightening exam.
The cunning daughter on the other hand, did little things, only in hope of a bigger favour.
And she succeeded in getting them. oh, she would cry, plead innocence and play her cards; She got her way everytime. She would claim undying love for her brother, but duped him each time. But will she and can she always?

Who is to be questioned?
The indifferent son who never questioned anything, who created an impression for himself that he never cared...though in reality he did; That son who stay hidden and clueless about the ways of the world because the mother was herself overprotective; That son whose mother made him believe he was perfect.
Or The mother? That mother who was  intelligent, worldly-wise, self-reliant, strong, extremely religious, broad minded, ridden with ill-fate yet emerged victorious, who single handedly brought up two children without external assistance. Who would expect she'd ask such shattering questions!
Is the son to be blamed for never having SHOWN that he cared...or the mother who never showed the son that she cared for the fact that he didn't care.

Anyway, here are the lessons I learnt:
Even the gentlest and most selfless of beings need to be SHOWED they are cared for.
Expect the unexpected.
No parent can love their children equally (a study by TIME magazine proves it. google it up you'll know)
Even if you are good, the other person is a cunning fox, you'll lose things definitely. Stay smart
Only one thing irks a person more than being ignored. Being ignored by a rival. He/She'd do anything to get noticed.

And most importantly,
Nothing can hurt you more than your mother asking you what you have done for her. I hope and pray I'll never ask my son questions like these, after seeing the son's turmoil, hurt, pain and helplessness.

Its never late folks, go show her you care! A mother is very important. And you ARE answerable to her.
And yes, girls admire momma's boys (not the ji-mathaji for everything guy, the guy who knows to care for his mother)

In other news, Okay Drama-queen, war you want, war you get.

P.S: I am all sleep-slurry, but totally mean every word I post, and yes DQ you'll get a war. A battle if you are lucky! *evil grin*

Numaish

I have been thinking (what? ooohhh....anyway, yes i have. so. :)) and the thing that set me thinking was the annual "numaish ki sair" something, we as kids, eagerly looked forward to. There would be a budget, and we were allowed to spend, take rides all in the budget; come back home, prepare an account and get it validated by mom (apparently my mom thought it was an interesting way to help us improve our math skills.)


This year I thought I'd take Junior to his first numaish, and since math would be too much for him, I'll point and show (well, that would be too much too. i know ;))


A similar burgeoning crowd that was forever shopping greeted me. Children running around, ladies bargaining, poor men holding what the women bought, the lucknowi stalls, the kashmiri stalls, the joy rides, all bursting with colour. The toy train disappointed me though. This year it didnt run on tracks. It was just "compartments" attached to a tractor which ran on roads.


However one thing was missing, a simple thing called yearning. My yearning to buy, the excitement at spotting a piece, the flutter when the shopkeeper agrees to my price, the disappointment when my mom wouldn't agree and my prize catch would be taken away by someone else...it was all gone.


Was I growing up from these "girl things?" No. Not Really. I still look for new places to shop for and discounts are the first thing I notice in the newspaper. I would attribute this to over indulgence. Earlier numaish was held only once a year and the times we shopped for were also few. Clothes for Diwali, Sankranti and your "Happy Birthday" or if you were in for a bonanza you'd get a bonus if the discount was really good somewhere. What is happening now? There are discounts on everything all year around. Purchasing power has increased, weekends are generally spent window shopping or shopping at a mall. Now I buy clothes at an average of a dress every month, without any ocassion.


What actually made me write all this is a teeny weeny confused bit in me which asks, where do I stop? I want Junior to know what yearning is, the excitement of opening a gift, what looking forward to a something means, the gratitude that comes with all these. He'd probably have games and toys, books and clothes already.


With a lifestyle like this, where we give and get almost everything without asking for it, will emotions like these become obsolete? I hope not :)

'Fair' Play : Will the score ever be Love All?

I so wanted to watch 'Mirror Mirror'. Fairy tales fascinate me. Yes, even now. And Julia Roberts in the role of the evil queen would be a double treat. The evil queen looking into the Mirror and booming, Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of the all? Fairest? duh-huh evil queen! Silly you! Snow White last name is WHITE remember? She'll obviously be the fairest! Wow! this will make a nice advertisement for a fairness cream. All copyrights reserved. To use the idea, please contact me.

But then it set me thinking, Indians being obsessed with fairness is acceptable (we are uncivilized? We have so many fairness creams to sell ) But the west? Why would the already pale queen want to grow fairer? OK, 'fair' could mean pretty, but did they run out of vocabulary? Why did they have to say fairest of the all? They could have used pretty, beautiful, lovely or hazaar other words.

Whats with fairness and fairness creams anyway? And fairness creams for men! Oh no! Cant stand those advertisements on TV! They make normal people feel like a tape threatened to turn itself into a CD or it wont survive. Whatever happened to the TDH guy. The guy carved out of yummy chocolate. (No not white chocolate). They should show disclaimers for these advertisements to like the ones for tobacco/cigarette scenes on TV. We have come such a long way from just fair and lovely to a little less than a million products that promise anything and everything from getting you married to making you the next beauty queen. And now they show science, intelligent cell vita something. Oh my! even creams are becoming intelligent. Intelligence scares me. What if it evolves decides that it should make my skin like a dalmatian's one day?

 I remember a few months back, junior was much darker than he was now, everyone who came to visit me would show me their sympathies. And my family would rattle off, he was born fair, had to undergo UV radiation therapy for neo-natal jaundice and thats what made him dark. Er, Excuse me, but I am perfectly ok with him being even green. I wouldn't care less. 

Boring day. Well, Not boring exactly. Its raining, and cant take junior out for a walk, so made myself a nice grilled spinach sandwich and sat down to check whats on TV. Hannibal was playing on HBO. I enjoyed watching the Silence of the Lambs, though I might like this too. With endless commercials thrown in between the movie finally ended. I have to go to Wikipedia to find the part I missed though. And will someone make me a nice hot cuppa please?

Softer woes of an ex-software engineer

I used to be a software Engineer. Everybody who completed their engineering and did not go to the US for their MS was one, and so I was one too. It did not matter which stream of engineering you graduated from. (Everybody who took up Maths Physics and Chemistry in their 12th was an Engineer, that's another story) After the initial excitement of proudly wearing an ID card around your neck as if it was an Olympic medal, free coffees, free AC and free internet became boring I found my job taxing. I had to come up with innovative ways each day to keep myself amused which ranged from playing pranks on team mates to watching movies in office (Sorry Manager :D) Even this honey moon period got over.

I firmly believe a person should do "what he wants" and what he is good at (Never mind I never did). But would we get paid to do what we love? Ah! I wish! The world would then probably be full of artists, poets and philosophers. So one day I threw a tantrum at home till I was told, Okay! Go ahead quit your job. So I did. It was actually exciting in a way. Telling people why I would be leaving, planning what I'd do next. I have to admit that I was mainframe-challenged. The black and green screen in front of me mysteriously jumbled itself into ancient Greek every time I sat to write a piece of code.  I bet it is ancient Greek for real. And I seriously think black and green is a bad combination. I mean the fluoroscent green - its a little harsh. Mainframe developers : make it a little more appealing people! SOFTware was pretty hard for me. When I handed my ID card, and completed all the relieving formalities happy music played in the background.

However, I miss my office sometimes. I certainly do not miss work. I miss being with the people I used to hang out with, and I definitely miss the little egg my job used to lay in my account every month end. I'd be lying if I said I did not miss the money. Mr.Wise-guy-whom-I-Respect-a-lot told me I'll miss it. And showed me the brighter side that if I could manage to stay a few more years, I could get into the management side of software. He's right (like always). But I do not know how I would survive those few years till I could manage getting into management :)

Two years since then, I am still trying to figure out what I love to do and get paid for. Like Holly in P.S. I Love You, I am waiting for that one moment or that one TV show to suddenly discover what it is. Hope it'll strike me soon. In my face :P

Trainspotting

Being someone who grew up and stays in a noisy, busy, city, heavily influenced by John Keats and William Wordsworth I belong to the category that automatically invokes 'wow' to anything that is remotely green, natural, rural or all the three. So when we rented this apartment which borders a railway line (its a very busy line), overlooking fields and a lake that's exactly what I did. I did the 'wow'. I was so thrilled, and pictured myself sitting on a beanbag, a hot cuppa in my hand, a nice book, not to forget a slight drizzle. Pure unadulterated bliss. What else could one possible ask for?
Ahem, but none of it happened. Babysitting, cooking, and housekeeping kept me occupied. However I found a new found interest - rushing to the balcony with the baby in arms each time a train passed by. The goods train fascinates me the most; specially the one which pulled along white oil containers. Looked like I was secretly watching an albino anaconda from a tree-top :P Well, not exactly. But it looked great.
There's just something about the train. The fact that it majestically carried people and freight across the country each day? Or probably that it connected almost every single dot on the map? Probably just because its a machine that magically transports you across time.
You are one place at one moment and another the next. Noting down your path of travel, how far you have come, is another joy altogether.
Breakfast at a place, lunch at one and dinner at another- isnt it cool- makes me feel like some business tycoon minus all the stress :)
Just sitting back and gazing out of the window - you'll notice how fast life changes, lifestyles change, how different things become important for people in different places, how starkly contrast the culture of every place is, how tangible it feels, and above all, it makes me appreciate and respect so many little things.
The forgotten joys - of watching the sunset, counting the number of bogies in the train when it takes a turn, tossing a coin into the river and making a quick wish, waving randomly at people, some things dont become childish acts, there is fun in them forever!
Cheers to the train!

Relative Reflections - Revolution NO

I can never understand the concept behind it-wont-look-nice-if-you-dont-come/talk when it comes to relatives. Why are we forced, practically blackmailed, made to go through the gruesome routine of argue-shout-tire-give in everytime an occasion we are not comfortable attending comes up. Like I mentioned earlier, all I have these days is time, so I  put my black cells (well, grey actually, but then because this borders bitch-ness, I thought black would be apt). 

Well, for starters if I had a 'friend' who'd repeatedly humiliated me I'd dump her right way. Would even give a few shots back. Or some one who was a total dramebaaz, I like drama. But only when its in theatre or in the movies. My process of evolution ended with accepting drama in them. In real life? I'd outright ignore. But could I do the same with a relative? A big No. You are expected to 'let-go', something that my poor pea sized brain isn't programmed to do. Why it questions, Why should I go, smile a plastic smile at Madam Dramebaaz (otherwise they'd be another session called you-didnot-behave-well-wasnt-expected-out-of-you) and wish her? Wooh! How'd you even expect I'd wholeheartedly wish her when I despise her so much? I'll probably be making a mental note of making a vodoo doll when I go back home.

The 'closeness' of the relationship with the relative is directly proportional to the intensity of blackmail infested upon you. And if its on the husband's side of the family tree, forget it my darling, paint a smile and go go go. Your chances are exactly the same as George Clooney taking me for a date. You only wish!

"We need people Divya. So you have to come" Ok, right. I am not exactly asocial. But do I need someone who doesnot exactly make me happy? Its a complex emotion when I meet such relatives;  a perfect blend of helplessness, hopelessness, taken-for-granted-ness, defeat, anger, and loss of self respect. I am also mentally prepared to be humiliated again and carefully observing her moves (well, you know such characters are women generally) making notes to be used as defense the next time. 

Even the times you can defend yourself, win the argument and manage to stay back, you'll have to face the fireworks later. And trust me with this, Hell Hath no fury like a despite-all-the-convincing-you-didnt-come/talk situation disobeyed. 

Will there ever be an end to this? Isn't it time the Right to say NO was included in our fundamental rights? What we need a revolution people! 

Secretly hoping someone would read this. And I'll be giving a TED seminar on this sometime (now, tell me I am asking too much!)

P.S: When I actually meet Madam Dramebaaz next week, I pray I can get the plastic-smile-congratulations right!

again, what did you say this was?

Well, now I know why i "thought so much" before i created this blog. I dug the what would one write about question a little. And I realised my question was a little more fundamental than it appeared. I had the basic doubt of what the nature of any blog should be like. Should it be like a virtual diary? (Dear Diary, I missed my gym again today?) Should it be somewhere where I could rant and rave about things which I couldn't/shouldn't otherwise do? Should it me somewhere you write some controversial stuff and it becomes an internet rage overnight? (oohhh, my blog can make me famous one day!) Will people read what I write? Because if no one does, whats the point in writing anything at all? I can as well maintain a little book. And if I wnat people to read I have to write what they like. SO do I write what they like or do I write what I like?
I thought too much for a blog? Yeah, you know when one has too much of time, even the nitty gritty become matter to ponder on. I faced a big dilemma.
And what do I do when I face a dilemma? I simply ignore it.
Thats why it has taken me this long. (4 days probably). Silly as it might seem, these four days, when I was doing, watching or reading something, I was wondering "Could this go on my blog?"
lol. I am generally just the start-it-and-then-leave-it type. I want this to be an attempt that will not be one of those. I finally figured out that I'd just write. I'll probably be reading all this and laughing a few years down the line.