Live in the glory of serving a purpose during your lifetime

It has been exactly a year that Dad passed away after a brief illness. As a child, I had done everything within my abilities (physical and financial) for those four months that he was lying on a hospital bed in a comatosed state. It did not matter to me that he did not even open his eyes or speak a single word when I visited him in the hospital. That he was breathing and still alive was reason enough for me to travel to Kolkata every fortnight leaving my two children under the care and mercy of my domestic help. My husband and children insisted that if those were the final few months of dad’s life, then we must try our best to make him feel how much we loved him and how much we cared for him. My big man adjusted his travel schedule as much as he could and my two little children took care of themselves as much as they could giving me assurances constantly while I would be away to Kolkata,” Do not worry about us; You take care of Dada and yourself and spend as much time as you can with Dada. Just hold his hand and sit beside him. He will definitely realise with his senses that you are there”.

Dad would have been shining with pride and happiness for his son-in-law and grandchildren!

The only complain that I had against Almighty that I could not anticipate the final moment in dad’s life and hence, I could not be there by his side to kiss him goodbye and to tell him for the last time, “My daddy bestest”.  Even after a year, I go off to sleep with this grief and pain and I would have done that possibly for the rest of my life had it not been for another death in the family!

Chhoto Masi (my aunt-in-law) passed away on 8^th of January this year. She was a distant elder cousin of my Mom-in-law but since she had no one except us, my mom-in-law took it upon herself to look after her. The fact that she was distantly related to us never diluted the love and affection that we had for her and vice versa. Chhoto Masi was dear and near to us notwithstanding her position in the family tree of ‘Rays’!

Age caught up; she was diagnosed with Dementia. She was losing herself fast in the vortex of the disease….keeping her under home-care under a care-giver was no longer a possibility. Since we stay few thousand miles away from Lucknow and mom-in-law was physically not able to look after Chhoto Masi, on doctor’s advice, we finally had to take a hard decision to keep her under care of a Rehabilitation Center for her well-being. I became a frequent flyer in Fly Dubai airline on Dubai-Lucknow-Dubai route since July last year taking care of her medical needs even though the Rehabilitation Center was taking care of her well.  

Chhoto Masi lost all her abilities to comprehend the present and was dwelling in the past as these are common manifestations of dementia. She did not remember my name or who I was to her but every time I visited her in the Center, her face would lit up with joy and she would break into a wide smile like a child. I could clearly see the rush of happiness possibly because she knew in her heart that she was loved and cared for. She would kiss my forehead lovingly and affectionately when I would say, “Chhoto Masi, you take care and stay well. I will come again to see you after 15 days”. May be, she understood that the last was not very far. When I last visited her, she held my hand and asked with so much of hope and expectation in her voice,” When will the doctor allow me to go home? I want to go home”.

I was torn with helplessness and came back to Dubai with a heavy heart ridden with guilt. I promised her I would take her home the next time I would come knowing fully well that it was a distant possibility given the fact that her state was deteriorating with each passing day. She fell critically ill with a heart ailment just after a week of my last visit without any prior warning or indication and I rushed back. By the time I reached, she was already put on ventilator and she was already on her last battle. Signs were evident that she would not be able to hold her ground for long. Time ticked away for next 48 hours; I stayed put by her bed side in the hospital holding her hand. She possibly did not know that I was there with her all along during her final moments but Almighty gave me plenty of time to apologise to her that I failed on my promise and I could not take her home for one last time!

I will live with this guilt for the rest of my life!  

As her own son or daughter would have done or as I did it for my father, I performed all rituals before her cremation and lit the pyre . While immersing her ashes in river Gomati, tears possibly washed away my guilt hoping that Chhoto Masi would understand my helplessness and forgive me that I could not take her home as promised.

I ticked off that one complain I had against Almighty that He did not allow me the chance to stay by my dad’s side during his final moments…..He allowed me the chance to do so for Chhoto Masi. Dad was a noble soul; all through his life, he walked his walk following the dictum “Others before self”. So what if I was not there – he was surrounded with people who loved him so dearly showering him with love, affection and care….he died a king’s death!

….on the contrary, Chhoto Masi was alone, physically and emotionally. I am sure the thought crossed her mind innumerable number of times when she was inching towards old age as to how the end would be and whether there would be anyone to give her a decent farewell knowing that she did not have any biological offspring. Though there are countless incidents proving otherwise but do we not all live with this belief that a son or daughter of our own will take care of us during our last. May be, Chhoto Masi was also unsure that we would prove biological connections does not dictate how or whether we should take care of her.

….on many nights, I would go sleepless tears flooding my eyes repeating to myself, “I wish I could hold dad’s hand or kiss him good bye” ….but not anymore. God gave me the chance to do everything for Chhoto Masi that I could not do for dad. I could hold Chhoto Masi’s hand saying the last prayer on her behalf  that she should be allowed a safe and painless passage to God’s own country and be forgiven if she ever sinned. She was not left alone to cross the bridge before she started her journey towards the eternal destination. To me, this was more for my soul than for Chhoto Masi’s.

Dad possibly was shining with pride again that his little girl had developed strong shoulders to carry Chhoto Masi (literally) to the crematorium as a pallbearer!  

That I was made to be the anchor for a lonely soul during her final days compels me to think beyond doubt that God creates each one of us for a purpose! Stay ready ….who knows when Almighty will choose any one of us to serve that single purpose for which we have been created and when He does that, you live a blessed life then on!!

 

  

Only few people and few bonds matter in life....

Ours is a very democratic family. All members have equal right and freedom to express opinion about almost everything and opinions are examined carefully before a collective decision is made!

To feel that each one of us has freedom to do as per our wish, on an average day, I cook Pesto Pasta for the boy, pasta with white sauce for the girl, lamb curry for the Head of the Family while I stick to my staple fish curry and rice! If we decide to go for a movie together, we only travel together to the movie hall but I head to a theatre screening a Bollywood movie and husband and children settle down in a different theatre for an English movie. Needless to mention, we take lot of time and deliberation to decide on something major!

For us, “ Let us go somewhere for vacation” is a very major and sensitive issue. Honestly speaking, so far, our travel diary is almost blank. In the past 16 years that I am married, we had only been to Nainital for one and half day and we had gone to Phuket last year for 5 days. Reasons are many…..

…..Primarily because, husband is required to travel about 20 days a month to all parts of the world as his employment demands. His tired body yearns for the cosy comfort of home and some home cooked food during holiday and he would prefer to stay at home given a chance.

….. Secondly, I am not a travel person per se…. I do not possess strong legs to walk miles to explore things or to marvel at the exploration people have already done; I do not have a strong heart to jump into any kind of adventure in a faraway land; neither I am emotionally so strong that I could forego my mandatory annual visit to Greater Noida; I would rather prefer to travel to Greater Noida during holidays and watch Nature’s wonders on Discovery Channel or National Geographic and I have no regrets for “missing out on fun”. (Of late, I have been nurturing a secret wish of going to see Leh and Ladakh all by myself, reason unknown to me even!)

If travel to different places is equivalent to gathering knowledge, then I am illiterate and uneducated to the core and I am not ashamed to accept that fact.

…..the last important reason being purely financial. Yes, I could not come out of typical “service class” mentality where ‘ salary’ is earned to be saved for a better cause of life and spending so much of money on a holiday and few days of fun does not get a ready and quick approval from me much to the annoyance of my husband and children !

But that was when children were small and they were yet to learn to put forward their likes and dislikes! Now they are grown up and mingles with friends who go for vacations (ordinary and exotic) each year as a ritual. Peer pressure was building up within them, I guess and finally, two years back, both of them were very critical of the fact that we had never been to any place other than Greater Noida during holidays. In the evening, after a very brief deliberation, the house was divided into 3:1 and a family decision was made that we would go for a vacation each year at least once. My contribution to the plan was limited to packing my stuff and carrying myself to wherever they would decide to travel!!

The planning for “December holiday” has started in the household for this year. The other day, husband got four travel magazines of DNATA and I was given the honour to decide on a place for the family to travel to. As usual, before I could lay my eyes on the beautiful sample pictures of the places featured in the magazines, I read the “per person” cost and did a quick mental calculation of the “financial outflow after adding 30% overhead cost”. My husband was insistent that we should go to some place in Europe this year. Tragically enough, I have very blurry idea of geographical definitions and boundaries of Europe, America or as a matter of fact, any other continent and country other than India. To avoid confusion, I announced during dinner time to the children “We are going for an Austrian holiday this year. Now, if Austria does not fall in Europe that is none of my problem. I have already decided”. The family approved then and there.

“We have to apply for visa well in time so to avoid last minute panic and uncertainty” was my husband’s premonition. To look and talk little informed, I tried to search in Google for visa formality the other day and left the site halfway as it was too much of information-overload for my brain. I thought it prudent to leave it to the person who is most experienced in the family as regards travel is concerned as he travels in and out of Dubai almost like any Airline crew member…. I went off to sleep a little excited and happy that day thinking about our ensuing Austrian Holiday.

Just after I said my prayers and closed my eyes with the happy smile still intact, strangely enough, memories of the incident happened during my fifth chemotherapy session flooded my mind like a surge of mud-water and swept me  three years in the past to the hospital bed. A serious allergic reaction of the chemotherapy medicine almost took my life. The Oncologist mentioned to us later that he never encountered such severe reaction in his entire career of 16 years as a Cancer specialist and that I was alive was nothing short of a miracle! While the doctors and nurses were fighting tooth and nail to bring me back from the clutches of death, I was barely conscious to understand the severity of the battle. I could only feel the tight hug of my husband who kept on whispering into my ears “Dare not leave me alone”; I could only remember how dad wept helplessly to his Almighty when the diagnosis came out, “Take my life but dare not snatch my child from me” and I could only murmur to the doctor,” I have not kissed my children good-bye”.  

I was not afraid that it was time for me to end my earthly journey so soon and so abruptly and the thought that I had not travelled to many places while I was alive, did not even occur to me. Rather, I could sense immense calmness within me that I could be a good daughter to my parents; that I could be a good mother to my children; that I could be a good wife to my husband; that I could be a good friend to few. 

On that day and time, I was ready to travel to God’s own country and since then, I am always ready. Life has taught me to stay clutter-free. I live life without many attachments, without much expectations, without any regrets for my acts and deeds and I feel extremely content at all points of time. With each passing day, the realisation is getting stronger that only few people and few bonds matter in life; rest all is immaterial and peripheral to living a happy life. Whether I get to go for an Austrian vacation or not; whether I get to appreciate the blue water of many oceans or mighty heights of mountains in different parts of the world or not; whether I get to taste cuisine from around the world or not --- the measure of my happiness and contentment is not going to be altered, for sure!

Cherish those few people in life and nurture those few bonds with all your heart and soul!!! Having said that, if an opportunity arises on the periphery to travel to a new place and explore, grab it with both hands.

On a funny note, I will certainly irritate my children and husband with this philosophy of mine and a decently long lecture to convince them to buy this. I see a prospect of saving few thousand dirhams and a holiday to my very own Greater Noida in December….  

Faith brings out the best in you!

All along , I am a firm believer in God. For me, the God is a “ SHE” , my very own Ma Durga. Her presence and power to heal has always been my primary source of strength and courage during time of distress. As I don’t forget to thank Her almost every moment that I am awake, I do not hesitate to curse her when She pushes me to edge; I don’t , as well, hesitate to nag her relentlessly to step in when things get beyond control and all else fail !

The belief that She would show me the light at the end of the dark tunnel has always paid off. Of course, the primary condition of being the receiver of Her abundant blessings is that I have to close my eyes, hold Her hand and keep walking with an unshakable faith in my mind even if it takes longer than expected to reach to the other end of the tunnel.

Being an ordinary human being, every time I am put to test, I try to figure out the purpose behind Her game. When apparently, I do not find one, I complain profusely and at times, I threaten Her in abusive language that I would shift my loyalty to other God/Goddess who possibly would be little kinder to the devotees. When the initial fury of the storm subsides and the clouds clear a little bit, I sit down and think through and the purpose of the test transpires…. Above everything else, I come out of it as a much stronger and tougher person , absolutely ready for a bigger battle in life!

My faith in Her presence and power to heal grows stronger each time I pass a test!

I have been taking a test again for the past one month. This time, it is dad’s illness – a critical and severe one. A viral meningitis has left him with severely impaired Central Nervous system and he is confined to hospital bed for the past one month in Kolkata. Being the only child and staying so far away from them, I had been living with this fear for quite some time ever since the signs of aging started to show up. When it happened, almost without any prior notice, the feeling was nasty. It was, as if, I was thrown into deep sea with my limbs tied up and nothing was in sight to hang on to.

The first reaction, obviously, was to scream at Her, “What is it this time?” as I was struggling to find a purpose behind this rigorous test. I lost my ability to think logically and rationally as to how I was going to juggle a home in Dubai with two small kids, a husband with punishing travel schedule, a sick father in Kolkata, an emotionally vulnerable and physically weak mom in the village home, a job that I recently started with so much of love and passion and the rigour of travelling back and forth between Kolkata and Dubai fortnightly! I drifted around in that open sea till the time I had air in my lungs and then called Her to step in.

I left everything in Her hands with that Faith in my mind …..

As always, the initial fury of the storm has subsided and when I sat down to think through, the purpose behind all these was clear. As a matter of fact , there was not one but many :

First and primary, the children have become more independent and responsible to take charge of their lives when I am away to Kolkata and their dad is in a far-away land on duty . That includes getting ready for school on time, finishing homework on their own and on time, keeping tab on me and both the grandmas, and calling me up every night to say,” We are fine Ma; you take care of Dada and yourself”. The mother in me is now more than assured that my children have grown up in true sense and they are battle-ready!

Secondly, I was brought up in a joint family with few cousins. Being a single child, I never felt lonely nor did I feel the need of a sibling because we all were brothers and sisters and the bond was quite strong and visible all through. During this time of distress, three of my brothers stayed by my side like three strong pillars. I could lean on them to rest, to cry, to voice my concern whenever i wished to. They still are….doing the hospital run, taking care of needs of Ma in the village, organising random stuff so that dad’s care is not hampered. The strength of the bond is now time-tested. I am more than convinced that I will never be alone in life when I am blessed with such cousins. I wish I had few more like them…..  

Third in the list ….. I got to know few wonderful people who I didn’t even see before this happened. They are not relatives per se but they are always on a phone call away. On the day dad was supposed to be operated upon, these beautiful souls descended in full force on a 30-minute notice just to be by my side and since then, are in constant touch with me. I will remain grateful to them for the rest of my life and will certainly nurture these relationships with love and care. Kolkata no longer is an alien land for me only because of them (I never liked Kolkata, the city of joy and I never tried to develop any bond either with this city).  

Fourth in the list …. Friends here in Dubai have extended their hands of support to take care of children and anything else that might be required during the time I am away. Such unconditional support and help from friends always makes me believe that the world in fact is a beautiful place. May God bless these angels always!  

The most important one …. I have always felt that marriage is the best thing that happened to me. When people ask me how I take care of so many things at one single moment, I smile back to them and say,” I am generally a very strong person mentally. But for the past 15 years that I am married, a man stands behind me like a rock-wall all the time. Whenever I need support, I just lean back and rest. I fear nothing so long as he is there.” He is my husband! May God bless him with more strength and patience!

On a lighter note, I have found a new student in Ma. She is learning how to write her pension  cheque, how to fill in the deposit slips in bank, how to operate an ATM card and all small things that she never had to bother herself with because dad used to take care of all those. She is excited and she feels empowered!

And the last one….during my last visit, I was upgraded from Economy to Business by Emirates Airlines as I had accumulated few thousand air miles! An enjoyable privilege, I must say.

Well, I will be again flying to Kolkata on 23 rd. December for a week to make a permanent arrangement for dad’s rehabilitation in Kolkata. A whole new set up to be organised in Kolkata but surprisingly, I am not overtly worried. I know beyond doubt that everything will be taken care of.

I am currently, walking through that dark tunnel with eyes closed, holding Her hand with that unshakable faith in my heart. The ray of light will appear just when it is time!!         

Let the wild flowers bloom everywhere......

Professionally speaking, I have deviated too far and too many times. I started off as an Audit Manager immediately after qualifying my final examination from Institute of Chartered Accountants of India and ended up recently as a Content Writer of a Lifestyle Magazine here in Dubai.

The journey has been long and colourful and though, I performed my duties with utmost sincerity at all points of time, the duty I most enjoyed was that of a professor. In all other cases, only my professional self was involved whereas during those years as professor, my entire self was involved. The parting was painful when I had to move to Dubai. Few months in a job here in Dubai in Corporate Finance , I realised pretty soon that I was too trapped in the mould of a teacher making it difficult for me to go back to a corporate job. I decided to quit !

Thankfully, God gave me another reason to quit and look at life in a new light. Surviving Cancer was a life changing experience for me. Priorities of life changed overnight and the decision to quit whatever I was doing was instant. A probability of recurrence adds a dangerous dimension to the “killer” disease called “Cancer” and I guess, all cancer survivors live with this uncertainty for the rest of their lives. Suddenly, I was in a rush to do things that I wanted to do for quite some time before God sends me a notice, “Time up”.

At the top of my list of “things to do before I die”, I had a secret wish…… I wanted to become part of lives of children who are differently able ever since my daughter was born. There was an antecedent of my being so passionate about the cause. Test results during pregnancy showed a high probability that the daughter might be born with Down’s syndrome. The thought of terminating the pregnancy did not occur to us for once and we went around the city searching for specialist doctors, schools, therapists during the balance period of pregnancy just to make sure that the baby get the best care and support. The fact that there were not many facilities (and there still isn’t) to support the development of children with special need and that the society is not always conducive to accept them with open arms, were the only concerns for our unborn child. The Almighty blessed us with a girl who did not show any sign of Down’s syndrome but since then, I started to nurture a secret wish that given a chance, I would like to help those beautiful souls with my limited ability!

I took a small step to give my dream wings and started working as a volunteer with a Paediatric Therapy Center for differently able children here in Dubai. Sometimes, only passion is not sufficient - to have specific knowledge and skill in order to be more helpful and to understand them better was paramount. I recently enrolled myself for a professional training on Behavioural Analysis and Occupational Therapy. Needless to say, my entire self is involved once again while I learn.

As a part of the course curriculum, I am associated with a centre which offers therapy (Occupational therapy, Speech therapy, therapy for Sensory integration etc.) to children who have learning difficulty/disability. Each day, I come home wrapped in a lingering fragrance of wild flowers; I look forward to go back the next morning to hug them, cuddle them, learn with them, play with them and be a part of their lives in a small way……I am a very happy soul now!

Yes, I will call them wild flowers high up in the mountains – they are exotic and unique with vibrant colour and fragrance. To make wild flowers bloom in the plain land is difficult but not impossible. The environment has to be conducive and inviting for these wild flowers to bloom on the plains. They need to be given a chance to adapt and I am sure, with little effort from all of us around, the process of adaptation will be much easier. Do not try to enter into their world with a bang ; rather carry with you a hint of forest breeze when you would try to peep into their world.

If the society as a whole and each member of the society takes a little effort, the sight of vibrant colour of those wild flowers blooming everywhere around us will certainly be a treat visually and that exotic fragrance will certainly uplift your soul to be closer to your Almighty!

If we can not do it alone, let us join hands in a bid to protect these wild flowers!

   

The agony of growing old........

Age is catching up........I mean, the biological age and not the age of my mind.
I take the often-repeated phrase very seriously saying to myself," Age is only a number" and I truly believe there is no conflict between an ageing body and an young mind within it. Just so to prove that, I took lessons of Pole Dancing with mind-full of enthusiasm! ( I must confess that I loved it even though my ageing limbs protested vehemently!)
......but then, the young mind can not take the ageing brain head-on all the time. As a part of the biological process of growing old,  body parts compete with each other and gives you clear signs of eventual "wear and tear". A gradual weakening of memory with each passing year tops the list of symptoms of growing older, I guess!
In my case, the situation is doubly critical. I was possibly born with this terrible trait of mine - I simply do not remember where I keep "important" stuff at the time when those are needed!! .....and now that I am approaching 50 (biological age, I mean), situation is going towards worse, I must say. Almost everyday a search mission needs to be launched for something or the other - passports, suitcase keys, childrens' vaccination card, ATM card, Maid's employment contract, my mobile phone and the list goes on...... while I sweat and panic almost to the verge of bursting into loud cry, all members of the family (including my dog) bring the entire house down to search for random "important" stuff. The commander of the search mission ( my husband, of course) sits still, throws direction to the team members in a steely voice and in between, throws steely glances towards me and I feel miserable, to say the least!
I consider this as an official seal that I am growing old biologically (the mind stays young and fresh, though)
Yesterday was Valentine's day - a beautiful day started with a beautiful morning with children kissing me "Happy Valentine's Day Ma", and a beautiful gift was being unwrapped (my husband got it for me few days back during his recent tour but I wanted to unwrap it ceremoniously on Valentine's day!). As I sat down with a cup of tea and the morning newspaper, my husband asked for a particular thing which was in my wallet. I rushed to upstairs feeling confident that it was in my green handbag. Well, the wallet was not inside my green handbag, nor on the sofa upstairs, nor on the red sofa in kids room, nor inside my cupboard, nor in the bamboo basket in the kitchen...... and the sweat, the panic, the palpitation. Feeling helpless, I  cried out from upstairs," Kids, help please. I can't find my wallet"
One more search mission - spoiling the beautiful morning and making the house look like a battle field. My daughter even checked inside the refrigerator , just in case!
"How can it go inside the fridge, Babu" I tried to protest feebly.
With the same gravity in her voice as her dad's, she replied without even turning back to me, " Anything is possible Ma"
(Unbelievable ! I was thinking to myself and feeling miserable, as allways)
Almost an hour later, my Almighty Ma Durga possibly answered to my fervent prayers and the brain regained some of its lost glory. I ran back up to check the folder where my son keeps his drum sticks and notation copies for his drum lessons. It was certainly the moment to scream "Eureka". Now, don't ask me how the wallet ended up inside that folder (even I do not clearly remember the sequence of events).
I was convinced one more time that I am growing older biologically (the mind is young and fresh, though).
Lovely ladies, in case you are growing older biologically like me, stay fresh and young at heart but be a little mindful where you keep your wallet. Otherwise a beautiful Valentine's Day morning will get wasted searching for it!
Enjoy life as it comes !!

There is no place like home.......

That bug is here again which nags me at regular interval throughout the year –“ I want to go home”!

I am about to complete my fifth year in Dubai in few more days and I consider this as a fairly long stay to fall in love with this beautiful city. I wouldn’t deny that I love the city but still, after such a long stay and even with all its glitz, glamour and flamboyance, the city has not been successfully able to take me under its magic spell completely. The heart aches naggingly for that small confine in Greater Noida, for that muddy road in my village, for that small apartment crammed with stuff, useful or un-useful in Lucknow….

During childhood or during my growing-up years, I have not travelled much except the yearly visit to my maternal grandparents’ place in the nearby town. I have not travelled much even after marriage – firstly, the children were small and I was too apprehensive if at all I would enjoy a vacation while managing an infant and a toddler and secondly, financial resources were not in abundance to splurge on an exotic vacation. While the husband globe-trotted throughout the year on professional assignments, travelling to Lucknow or to my village was the only itinerary for us during holidays.

Situations changed for good with passage of time. Children grew up, cash flow improved and we were travel-ready or rather vacation-ready. Just about when we were planning a trip to a nearby hill station during the next holiday, Dubai happened to us! On a notice of three months, belongings were packed in cartons and shipped and we took the flight to Dubai on a cold January morning. It was “to begin all over again”. Needless to say, it took a while to settle down in this new place, physically and emotionally!

After five long years, even though I am physically well-settled ( a decent home, a family car in the garage, a kitchen full of cooking gadgets, crockery and cutlery,  stack full of cook books and novels in the study room, few good friends to “chill with” during weekends , children in a good school and recently, a dog too), emotionally I still find myself struggling to get adjusted to this new arrangement - parents and Ma-in-law no longer can catch the train at their convenience to travel to Delhi to stay with us four times a year and I feel very sad for them; I cannot hop onto Shatabdi Express to Lucknow whenever there is a four -day break and I feel sad for that; since there is no puja vacation in Dubai schools, I cannot go home to be with my gang of cousins, aunts and uncles during my most favorite festival that is Durga Puja and I feel sad for that. The list goes on………

……and hence, vacation to me now means “going home” at every opportunity and I refuse to go to any place else. People say travelling to new places enriches the vision, broadens the mindset and expands the knowledge base making one superior to the less-travelled. Going by that measuring stick, I will possibly die with a very inferior vision, a very restricted mindset and a very narrow knowledge base if status quo remains the same for few more years but I will still die as a very happy and satisfied soul as I will carry in my heart few beautiful feelings when I die…….

.……I will never know how it feels to be standing in front of an imposing mountain range in some parts of the world and be awe-struck by its enormity. Those mighty mountains will never shed their self-importance and tell me, “Come back soon” when my visit is over. …. But I will always know how beautiful it feels when each one of my friends , neighbors and acquaintances  in Greater Noida hugs me tight and whispers chokingly with  tears in their eyes, “Come back soon. We miss you so much” when I prepare to come back to Dubai after the vacation.

….. I will never know how beautiful it feels to be taking a walk in a moonlit night in a pristine beach with a boundless ocean in front of my eyes and to be surrounded with unearthly tranquility, in some parts of the world. The golden sands of those beaches or the blue waters of those oceans will never care enough to preserve my footsteps as a memoir that I paid a visit to them …….but I will always know how beautiful it feels when my mom-in-law tells me with tears in her eyes, “I will keep everything as it is in your room till you come back again. That will give me a feeling that you all are here with me”. 

……I will never know how it beautiful it feels to be watching a spectacular sunrise or sunset in some exotic location in some parts of the world. That rising sun or the setting sun, with all its glory, will never keep a count of how many more mornings or evenings I will be there to appreciate that splendor……but I will always know how beautiful it feels when my dad keeps a count of my stay with each sun-rise or sun-set and tells me with a hint of gloom,” Four more days and the house will feel empty again.”

…… I will never know how it feels to be wandering in the roads of cities around the world with rich historical past. Those roads or those cities will never bother to come out of their glorious past to appreciate the fact that I visited them…….but I will always know how beautiful it feels when I visit my favorite market place after years, either in Greater Noida or in Lucknow and the snack vendor comes running to me,” Didi, do you recognize me? Where had you been all these years? Have some pani puri”

……I will never know how it feels to be sampling local cuisine sitting in a road side eatery in a distant land or how it tastes but I will always know how heavenly it tastes and how beautiful it feels to eat to my heart’s content “rajma chawal” from the kitchen of my motherly neighbor, curry-chawal from Sunita’s kitchen, chilli chicken from Madhumita’s kitchen, Masala bhindi from Swati’s kitchen, chicken biriyani from Shampa’s kitchen, aam ka achar from Chetna’s kitchen, egg curry from Ma in Lucknow or fish curry from Ma’s kitchen in Gonpur .

Those mountains, those oceans, those beaches, those historical cities will all be there for eternity (at least they will survive till I die!). Uncertainty being the essence of life, who knows if I will get the next opportunity to be with my loved ones to share some laugh with them , to hug them one last time or to share my grief or joy with them!

I don't care if the world does not remember me when I die as someone who travelled extensively gathering precious knowledge! What matters to me most is the fact that few people will keep me alive in their memories when I die. Hence my suitcases are out from under the bed and dusted off, my shopping list for my dear ones is ready and I am vacation-ready. I will take the flight after few more days to one of the most exotic places on earth – Greater Noida and come back with plenty of memories to sustain myself till the next vacation.  

Have a happy winter holiday, friends and do make it a point to reserve few vacations for your loved ones!

 

It is not easy to be mother of someone else's child.......

I became mom to a new baby about a couple of days ago!

Hold your breath! I did not give birth to him. He has travelled quite a distance to reach Dubai, all the way from Hungary.

A seven month old Labrador came home with my Big man from the Pet Shop located in his office building, completely unannounced. The daughter and father were ecstatic, the son was clueless whether to be happy or otherwise and I was aghast!

I never thought that the family was incomplete without a dog! The sight of dog’s ‘Poop and Pee’ all around the park adjacent to my house actually makes me nauseate and I curse the dog owners for not cleaning after their dogs. That the dog would relieve himself anywhere or everywhere in the garden or inside the house, was beyond my acceptance limit and hence, an unpardonable act to me.

 The initial shock subsided after few minutes of screaming and giving me no time to gather myself to greet him, the horror started to unfold bit by bit. Hashtag peed right there on the sofa (my most favorite corner where I love to sit with a cup of tea and the morning newspaper!)  I forgot to react and the daughter immediately started explaining how dogs mark their territory by peeing. (How insane is that!)   

The daughter immediately ran to the kitchen to get the roll of kitchen towel and without even a hint of disgust, she wiped the floor with tissue and cleaned with Dettol water. I was horrified to say the least.

…..but lo and behold! There was more to the horror. Before the floor even dried, Hashtag could not control his motion and the rest is not very hard to guess!

I could sense that my days and nights were going to be a complete mess with Hashtag’s arrival while the daughter and her father tried relentlessly to convince me otherwise.

His bed, chewies, food bowl, water bowl, packets of treats and readymade food, toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo, bath tub, towel, hair brush, two leashes, a harness and a collar, were all unloaded from the car dickey and organized neatly in the store room shelves. I just don’t remember whether there was so much of arrangement when I brought home my babies from the hospital!

In the afternoon, he was set free in the garden to make him familiar with the environment and he peed everywhere in a bid to mark his territory. The husband looked at him with indulgence, the daughter giggled uncontrollably and I was sitting on a garden chair, motionless, speechless and breathless, possibly with anger!

The night descended and after an elaborate discussion between the daughter and father, Hashtag’s bed was laid in the study room and my husband decided to sleep on the sofa to make the dog feel safe and comfortable! I don’t remember if he ever stayed up and awake during nights when children were small!

Fortunately for him and unfortunately for me, the next morning he had to leave station for an assignment. At night, the daughter refused to sleep upstairs leaving her “darling” Hashtag alone and I was left with no choice but to sleep in the living room with her and her “darling”. While she fell asleep within minutes of snuggling under the blanket, Hashtag kept me up and about the entire night with his antics reminding me the days of sleepless nights when the kids were small.

……. and that too, for the dog!! Unbelievable!

In a matter of two days, the green grasses in my garden developed yellow patches (soaked with Hashtag’s urine) and he chose no particular area for his big job! I lost my paradise.

Sleepless, homeless (almost!), with each passing day, frustration was increasing with his unpredictable and erratic toilet habit! Rajeev (a renowned dog trainer) was hired to make Hashtag toilet trained. On the first session, possibly he could sense my emotion towards the animal and dropped a simple line after he was done with the lesson, “Just accept him as he is. He will never be able to understand logically why you are angry with him. But give it some time and he will not give you chance to regret that you brought him home”.

Something clicked. For the first time, I called him to me and looked into his eyes. Hesitantly, he sat in front of me with complete submission. A surge of emotion ran past me – possibly he is missing his mum and the mum, far away in Hungary, is possibly missing her baby. When he grows up in a few months, the mother will never get to know or see how handsome her boy looks. Being the foster mother, the joy and pride will be all mine!

That day, I wore a pair of gloves and cleaned his poop in a plastic bag; took him upstairs and laid his bed by the side of my bed, touched his head softly to say “good night” and switched off the light. He let go off a deep breath, stretched his limbs, looked at me once and fell asleep like a baby knowing in his mind that I have finally accepted him.

Today, when I closed the door behind me while leaving for office, I could decipher the look in his eyes. He certainly wanted to say, “When will you come home, Mom?”  

Being mother is a tough task and being mother of someone else’s child is doubly tough. Howsoever tough it might be, how can I not love someone as cute and handsome like my Hashtag with deep brown eyes and a button nose!!!

 (I was allowed the honor to name him)

 

 

 

Agony and ecstasy of a mother of a pre-teen girl

Even though there is no gender bias, I always wanted my first child to be a girl. On a cold January afternoon, when she had to be taken out with a C-Section prematurely for medical reasons, even the attending Pediatrician had doubted her survival. At the same time, he emphasized that mother’s care was the only medicine for her and I took up motherhood full-time.

The frail baby with pink lips, head-full of curly hair and long eyelashes, held my finger tightly in the embrace of her tiny weak fingers when I first held her and possibly, that is, so far, the most precious moment of my life!    

From that moment onwards, she has given me countless moments for me to feel ecstatic as her mother!

She is known be mature, responsible and caring amongst friends and teachers in school and amongst friends and relatives. I feel blessed!

At home, she is my ‘first-point-of-contact’ during moments of distress. When memory fails me as to where I have kept a very important document that her father handed over to me for safe keeping or the tuning key for my son’s drum set , she comes to my rescue,” Mom, check in the topmost drawer on your left in your wardrobe”. Sense of relief breezes past me when I find things exactly where she says and I hug her with a happy grin! My forgetfulness has become legendary in the family after innumerable incidents of losing things or not being able to remember where I have kept them. She is officially responsible now for safekeeping of things and I live a life free of stress!! I feel blessed!

As she loves to cook, she has been going to a culinary school to hone her skills. Some days, when I just do not feel like entering into the kitchen, she happily wears her Chef-cap, flips through the pages of her recipe book, does a stock-taking for ingredients in the refrigerator and the rest is……

…….sheer BLISS!!!  I feel blessed!!     

The list is long when I feel myself blessed to have her in my life and I thought mothering her would simply be full of ecstasy and devoid of agony!!

I didn’t have reasons to believe otherwise until she turned 12 in January. Officially, she entered into pre-teen and will enter into “the hallowed hall of Teens” in ten more months precisely! There has been innumerable articles and reports on how to handle “teenaged children” and all documents, published or unpublished, screams that it is the most difficult phase of parenthood as well as for the children. Well, I do feel scared. Just to keep myself prepared for the occasion, these days, I read through any article related to “Good Parenting” in one breath while the storm is brewing……

While I debate with myself as to how to handle this when she starts showing up symptoms of “teenage tantrums”, I wonder whether our parents also had to go through all these! We also had passed through that very sensitive phase of life called “adolescence” with our share of infatuation, falling in love at the drop of a hat or nursing a broken heart. Have we ever noticed our parents being stressed about all such issues? Nah, at least, I don’t remember as regards my parents are concerned.

 ….but as everyone says, “Time has changed”. And hence, method of parenting also needs to be changed. While the debate goes on in my head as to how to make her understand what is wrong and what is right for her, she is busy “Whatsapping” her friends in her i-phone.

Now, after so much of knowledge accumulated by reading all those articles or hearing from parents who already have teenage children, just as I started feeling “well-equipped”, my pre-teen princess came home from school with lot of excitement and asked me, “Mom, is it OK with you if I invite two of my friends to our house on Thursday? Actually, they are, sort of, dating and want some cool place to hang out so they can understand each other better. We have this lake and the park behind our house and it’s nice. So just in case you agree……”   

I almost went blank when she dropped those words so casually - ”Dating”, “cool”, “hang out”, “understand each other better” ! She is only 12 and so are her friends!! For the first time I realized how much time has changed. At least, in my time, when I was of their age, the thought of “understanding each other” never crossed my mind!

 Mentally, I was searching through all those articles that I have read which might give me a clue as to how to handle this and there was no answer. I had to figure it out myself.

My days of agony have just started, I guess……

I don’t think there is any rule book for parenting. The best rule, for me, is to trust the “mother’s instinct”.

Enjoy the agony and ecstasy of being a mother. Happy parenting, all you mothers!

 

Life is about making choices!

Even though I was the only child of my parents, I never had to grow up as a lonely child! Being part of a very big and extended joint family, with quite a few number of cousins, uncles and aunts, always made me feel secure emotionally. I always felt that I was part of a big circle and in times of need, someone or the other would always be there to hold my hand, wipe my tears, stay by my side during my moments of sadness and would celebrate my moments of joy with me with equal elation!

  Even after so many years that I am away from all of them, pre-marriage and post-marriage, and even though I get to meet them after a long gap, I still feel equally attached with each one of them. To make a trip to my village every six months was almost a ritual for me when I was in Delhi even if that would require good amount of permutation / combination in order to match my work holidays with holidays of my children and travel schedule of my husband. If I had to miss the visit for some reason, the flood gates of my tear ducts would remain open perpetually till the next visit, fact notwithstanding, that parents would visit us every 3/4 months!

Lot of people, failed to understand why I was emotionally so high-strung as regards my visit to my village, more so when parents visited so often. How would I make them understand that other than my parents, there were so many people and so many things in that big circle of which I was a part and I missed each one of them!

.......the muddy road, the pond in front of my house full of hyacinth and mosquitoes, the memory-strewn school building where I studied under the careful eyes of my beloved teachers, the ever-inquisitive, enthusiastic but affectionate neighbors - everything was a part of that big circle. Hence going back to that place was equivalent to going to a pilgrimage for me, and it still is! Sometimes, I also wonder that possibly so much of attachment is not good for the soul. To make life a little less complicated, we should sometimes try to make the circle a little smaller.

......and even if I have tried few times to snip some part of that big circle, I failed to figure out as to who or what is unnecessary as regards my existence is concerned !  

Before even the dilemma was sorted as to who and what should stay within that big circle, I moved further away to Dubai from Delhi. Delhi was my second home. I loved the city so much from the day I landed there with a job all the way from Kolkata that I made up my mind to set up my permanent home in that ever-busy big city full of chaos, traffic jam and unknown people but full of life ! The dream finally came true when after few years of marriage, we purchased our own nest in the outskirts of Delhi that is Greater Noida!   

Once I moved to Dubai, I was hopeful that possibly distance would help me to squeeze that circle to only few people and few things which I supposed, were extremely close to my heart! On the contrary, after a few months of life in a far-away land away from all things near and dear, I felt the same ache of separation for few things and few people in Greater Noida as well. Every now and then, I feel a desperate urge to go back to that place to my kitty group friends, to my office buddies, to my neighbors who are as dear to me as my parents, to the evening prayer in the temple in the housing society and so on…..

Distance, in fact, has made the circle grow bigger!

…..and as if that was not enough addition to my dilemma, when a dear friend in Dubai lost her mother suddenly and rushed to Kolkata to bid “good bye” to her mother with tearful eyes, my eyes also welled up. The heart ached for her as well! I realized that my circle has grown even bigger with time and now it has taken few people and few things in Dubai as well within its periphery!

Realization dawned suddenly. The simple rule of geometry says as we go further from the center, the circle is bound to grow bigger until and unless we try to shift the center. But is it so easy to shift the center? Isn’t it the very essence of our existence? Shifting away from the center tantamount to denying the roots – isn’t it? We certainly can choose not to be a part of our own circle and stand and observe from the periphery. That would possibly give us the freedom of movement with less burden like a fallen leaf from a tree but it would certainly not give us the sense of security that we enjoy when we are part of a big circle! After all , how long can a fallen leaf float in the air? and it gets crushed under anyone's and everyone's feet, the moment it touches ground.....

Attachment brings lots of baggage to tug along but at the same time, ensures that someone will always be there in time of need to wipe our tears, to hold our hands, to share the sorrow and joy. I choose to stay attached and be a part of a circle and I no longer try to make the circle smaller rather I let it grow as big as it can!  

   

From my Pink Diary

 

If anyone would have ever asked me which part of my body I loved the most, I would have replied without even blinking that it was my long hair!

Yes, I had lovely hair – long, thick, black and shining as silk and I loved it the way it was. The love for those silky strands of hair grew more after June, 1999, when I met my tall, dark, handsome big man for the first time and when we were trying to strike a conversation during the lunch break of our professional meeting, his opening line to the conversation was, ‘’ Wow, you have lovely hair!”

After marriage and children, schedules for days and nights went for a major toss. Managing two little kids, a job and a house left little time indeed to take care of my crowning glory. Primarily because of that and secondarily, because the fashion bug hit me with lot of severity, I cut it short to a manageable length much to the dismay of my big man and my dad. The wavy curls adored me till I fell ill with Breast Cancer.

The first meeting with the Oncologist put my apprehension to rest when he described the side effects of chemotherapy that I would certainly lose my hair during the treatment. While the husband was more concerned about lot of other things related to the treatment and the disease, I only had one question to the doctor, “when do you think I shall get back my hair, if at all it comes back”. Even though the doctor assured me that the after-growth will be much nicer, I was literally in tears imagining myself looking ugly with a bald head. While everybody, who loves and cares for me, was praying for my life, I secretly started praying to be spared the trauma of losing my hair and go bald!

Eventually, when the inevitable happened and I had no option but to accept it, I got myself a wig – stylish and trendy which sat pretty on my “cute, bald” head (my son never let go a chance of telling me how cute my bald head looked). The first time a picture of mine was put up in Facebook by a dear friend of mine with that wig, there were quite a number of compliments to tell me that I looked beautiful with my new hair style!  The day I joined back office, my colleagues agreed unanimously that “I rocked the look”. As I was getting comfortable and used to it, my children had something different to say when I asked them about my new look,” The wig is very nice Ma but you look more real and natural without the wig. Get rid of it”.

…….I stopped wearing the wig and started wearing head-scarf as I was still not comfortable walking down the street with a hair-less head, howsoever real and natural I might look.  

In a span of few days, a decent collection of scarves was sitting neatly in my cupboard and just when I started to appreciate my new look with colorful scarves, it was already peak summer in this desert land. Walking down to and from office in sweltering heat with a scarf on was not a very comfortable thing and when I  mentioned this to my son one day just after entering home from office, he startled me with his logic why I should not cover my head with scarf :

“Ma, on your way to and from office, you meet many people but do you personally know any one of them? They might be visitors or tourists or whatever. So, when you do not know them, why do you have to worry how they feel about your look, if they feel anything at all? Those who know you, they know exactly why you don’t have hair. You look very pretty with or without hair and we all love you so much.”

He took the scarf away from my head, wiped the sweat and said,” From this moment, you are going around as you are”.

…….with tears in my eyes, I promised him that I would flaunt my “cute, bald” head without any inhibition. All of my friends and colleagues again agreed that “I rocked the punk look”.

The treatment is over and my “cute, bald” head is now covered with baby-soft layers of hair. Even though, I had intention of allowing my hair to grow long, I changed my mind the previous day and got a crew cut. Standing in front of the mirror, I took a close look at myself and quite liked my new look. Strangely, for the first time in few months, I was not missing my hair.

Possibly it was God’s own way of telling me not to get too attached to something as trivial as few strands of hair. With the same logic, I refused to subject myself to the trauma and agony of reconstruction surgery as I feel quite comfortable and complete even without a certain body part (I had to undergo a mastectomy of left breast).

To learn to detach comes with great difficulty. If there should be any attachment with something on this earth, let it be with and only with my Almighty who lifted my soul from gloom each moment during the ordeal of losing my hair and getting them back and let it be with few people who I found standing next to me each moment I wanted to hold someone’s hand to give me strength.

My wonderful family and friends, you are my only attachment on this earth and I care for nothing else.

Stay healthy and happy, all of you!

 

 

From my Pink Diary.........

I walked for the Pink Walkathon today for creating awareness for Breast Cancer with my friends by my side. While taking the walk, in my mind I was re-living those few months when the dread of the disease tried to overtake everything else in life.

As each day, I tried to keep myself strong enough to take the battle head-on, the small gestures from friends all over (a phone call just to check how I was doing, a BBM message just to tell me that I must not give much importance to the disease, messages on Facebook to tell me how courageously I had been fighting, a coffee evening with my Dubai gang of girls just to let me know how much they care for me) added to my strength and I felt blessed , each day and each moment!

As each day, I tried to get on with life notwithstanding the side-effects of chemo-therapy, my two lovely children reminded me each moment that I was the most “wonderful mom” in this world so what if I could not make “tasty” breakfast and lunch pack for school owing to my sickness or I could not attend their assembly or Parent-Teacher meeting. Just when I was too concerned with my hair-less head and I was sure from within that I looked very ugly without my crowning glory, they reminded me each day how gorgeous and cute I looked even without hair. I felt blessed each day and each moment!

As each day I tried hard so that pain and suffering must not show on my face or my voice must not quiver when I talked to them on phone, each member of my family back home (who were aware) also tried very hard to put up a brave front just to add to my strength and courage even though they were worrying sick and breaking from within. I felt as if all of them were around me all the time with their prayers and blessings just to protect me from all evils. I felt blessed each day and each moment!

As on a chemo-therapy session, a sudden and unexpected but severe allergic reaction almost dragged me to the death’s doorstep, I could only feel the tight embrace of my “big man” in my state of semi-consciousness. As he had been praying to Almighty for my life, he held me tight just to let me know that even death would not be able to snatch me from his embrace without a fierce fight. I felt blessed!

As when I was trying to find means to keep me meaningfully engaged and active so that I could keep my mind off from the thought of the dreadful disease and I made a casual call to my office, I was told to report next day. I was given enough liberty to choose my schedule suiting to my health as each of my colleague hugged me with a smile and said, “Welcome back, Minakshi”. I felt blessed!

The battle is over now and I see myself as a winner but I wonder, without the support of all these people around me, would this have been possible! I doubt! Is there anything more overwhelming than knowing how much I am loved by all of my lovely friends and family?

I feel blessed each day and each moment for this life!!

All my wonderful friends and family, stay healthy and happy – always and more importantly, love life and live life as much as you possibly can!!!

From my Pink Diary

(The past few days have been a little difficult for me with the cumulative side effects of chemotherapy being  at its peak with an add-on viral infection to battle with but then, I must not forget to explore the silver linings even within such mess….)

I have always been envious of girls who are taller than me even by a fraction of an inch as I could not reach to even a very moderate height of five feet. That made me terribly “height sensitive” since an early age. Just to overcome that sensitivity and fear that children of mine might inherit my  “height” related gene, I secretly dreamt for a very tall groom for myself (the image of Amitabh Bachhan – Jaya Bhaduri was ingrained in my mind).

After a massive search and drama (the story of my getting married to my tall husband has been told and retold on many occasions), I finally was married to a “tall, dark and handsome” person and thanked Almighty for his fairness of judgment!

Yes, the first time I saw him in a professional gathering, in a crisp white shirt, black trouser and a maroon tie, walking tall carrying a stylish leather satchel in one hand and a note pad in another, his destiny was sealed ( or rather mine!). Fortunately or unfortunately, he was chosen to be representing the 23 Chartered accountant Firms including mine. When he started the talking in impeccable English (another weakness of mine – being a village girl, I never got the chance to study in an English – medium school and always watch people respectfully from a distance who can speak English like an English man), my favorite Goddess ( Ma Durga) was flooded with fervent prayers.  My prayers were answered within a reasonable time frame and I got the chance to flaunt my “tall, dark, handsome” husband to my neighbors and villagers with a hint of visible pride!!

We settled in regular life but always made it a point to go out for a walk every evening after coming back home from our respective places of work. Even when the daughter was born, our schedule of a 40-minutes’ walk with the baby in her stroller, was not broken. We both looked fit and healthy and enjoyed the time together with so much to talk, relevant and irrelevant.

……and then suddenly, things changed. He joined a corporate house in a profile which demands extensive travelling and if we would have kept a log, he has ever since, clearly spent more time in the airport lounges around the world than he has spent at home. By that time, I became mother to a boy and life was a roller-coaster ride for both of us in our respective ways.

…..our schedule of “walking-together” was taken over by his packing, unpacking and repacking for tours and my time was divided precariously between job, children and household! My “tall dark and handsome” man started to show up the symptoms of “MNC Executives” by piling on weight on his straight and trim frame!!

All these years, even after trying very hard, we could not make even a 10-minutes stroll together (well, I firmly believe that there was lack of will from his side but could not ignore at the same time, the amount of stress and fatigue with so much of travelling).

Then the tragedy struck from a hidden corner and our world went into a spin one more time! But then, I do believe that everything happens for a reason if only we can see beyond the obvious. Just to take full advantage of the situation, I made it a point that my taking care of myself was fully contingent upon his taking care of himself and he must get me back my “tall, dark and handsome” man as soon as possible.    

An immediate visit was made to “Go Sports” to purchase track pants and tees, the walking shoes were taken out of the cupboard and dusted off and alarm was set at 5.30 am the next morning. My man has taken the challenge seriously even though, I would not be able to accompany him till end of July when my treatment would be over.

I am sure, we will enjoy very soon our “walking-together” time again by the sea shore with cool morning breeze sweeping past us and we would again be talking on so many things, relevant and irrelevant while sipping “low fat, no sugar” coffee occasionally.

All this while, I will be waiting eagerly to fall in love with the tall, dark and handsome man all over again who stole my heart away at the first instance 14 years ago.

Wish you all the best in your challenge my Big Man.

All of you, my lovely friends, you don’t need an excuse to steal some “walk-together” time with your loved one. Life does not wait for anyone – make the most of it while it is still yours. Stay healthy, stay happy and enjoy life!!!!

From my Pink Diary

Losing few kilos while being on a forced diet of fruits and lemon water is the sweetest side effect of chemotherapy….

I always hold a grudge against God that there has been unfair distribution of height to ladies in His world; otherwise why would ladies and girls like Shilpa Shetty, Anouska Sharma and Deepika Padukon have the pleasure of towering over others whereas ladies like me always have to stand in the front row while a group photograph is clicked! I always feel that I have been deprived of my right of standing tall physically in a crowd. The sensitive matter of ‘height’ became almost “over –sensitive” when my dad had to write 5’ 0” in matrimonial communications just to give an illusionary effect of being of average height like an average Bengali girl. Understandably, I am too sensitive to the magic word of “tall and slim”.

After I landed in Dubai, first few months were lazy rolls on the couch at home and endless hours of stroll in the malls. I was continuously on the search of keeping myself engaged meaningfully while enjoying my much-deserved break from life’s crazy run during the last few years. During the process of exploration, my observation gave me an insight that even though I could not do anything to increase my height at an age when the bones would not stretch length-wise but I could always reduce the ‘body mass’ to fit into the category of “slim and petit”. Just as I started wishing that there should be a health club around my residential locality, Studio Fitness opened its doors to countless enthusiasts like me. With little nudging from my husband, I entered into the world of “yoga, zumba and weight lifting” hoping each day that fitting into size 10 from size 14 would be only months away!!

Well, while I had been following the regimen religiously and few friends also commented that I looked more toned, I could not find much change myself and after relentless trials in the trial room of various stores in the malls, I could only fit into size 12 but getting into size 10 was a distant dream!!

…….after almost a year, I said “Quit”. Probably there was much more into reaching that dream of looking ‘slim and petit’.

Knowing me as not a quitter, my search on weight-loss secrets were on and I finally hit upon the conclusion that gym-run had to be in tandem with a ‘proper diet’. Another search began and almost all diet plans advised to stay away from ‘carbs’. I hit the first roadblock – being a die-hard Bengali, plateful of rice with fish curry is my biggest weakness and staying away from carbs was just IMPOSSIBLE for me!

 …..but dreams sometimes can be very persuasive! As if to give my dream the last push, Bodyworx opened just below my tower with a massive layout of machines, balance balls, kettle bells, treadmills, dance floors and what not! I could not resist the pull when I saw people thronging there and huffing and puffing on the machines and almost all of them fell in the category of “slim and fit”. I entered Bodyworx nervously one morning and was guided to a ‘personal trainer’ by the receptionist.

…… I set upon another journey towards attaining my dream of losing those stubborn kilos!

After some ‘critical calculation’, the trainer churned out that I should ideally weigh 55 kilos to go with my height and I was overweight by 9 kilos!! As regards the diet plan, when I mentioned my weakness on ‘rice’, he flashed a very pleasant smile and assured that I could eat my staple ‘rice with fish curry’ but only with slight change – “shift to brown rice from white rice”!!!

An immediate visit to the supermarket replaced the bags of India Gate Basmati Rice in my grocery cabinet with Tilda Long Grain Basmati Brown Rice with lots of protests from all members of the family. The taste of pristine white long grain India Gate Basmati rice was certainly too good to be compared with taste of brown rice of any brand and quality. After the initial protests subsided, we all made a conscious decision to shift to eating healthy and to our surprise, we all started liking the taste gradually.    

..... every month the weighing machine showed a little ‘shedding’ of those stubborn kilos and pushed me to go a little further in trying new techniques, machines and healthy diet!

Possibly seeing all these, God took pity on me and wanted the whole process of losing weight a little less effortless!

After the diagnosis, the finalization of the treatment plan and surgery, I had to say “Goodbye” to Bodyworx and to my wonderful personal trainer who was sure that I would come back after a short break and would start from where I left!! Thank you Sherwin that you showed this confidence in me as I hate to quit something which I started enjoying! I would go back, for sure…..

The chemotherapy started and suddenly without even realizing, I am on a forced diet of lots of fruits, lemon water, and soupy curry without even a hint of spice and WHITE RICE as these only suit my chemo-ridden taste buds. Every time, the nurse asks me stand on the weighing machine, the reading makes me very happy as it has been showing a steady decrease!! The last reading before the therapy session last week, the machine surprised me with a reading of “59.2” and I was elated.

……Voila! I am only 4 kilos away from the ideal weight that my trainer calculated and I am certain, that with three more sessions of therapy, the final reading is certainly going to show “55”.

The Therapy sessions and the associated side effects are not at all pleasant to bear with, but dreams do not always come true without pain and suffering, right? While approaching my dream of looking ‘slim and fit’, this much pain and suffering I will endure with a smile for sure!!!

 

From my Pink Diary......

Shopping is a therapy – whatever be the state of mind! When happy, it increases the happiness quotient and when depressed – it takes away some amount of gloom even though, temporarily!

Back home in India, I never had much opportunity to shop or window-shop in Great India Place in Noida or Shipra Mall in Ghaziabad or in Gurgaon, primarily because packing the kids in a Maruti 800 and driving across NCR region to malls was not at all safe for three of us given the awe-inspiring record of my driving skills and the hectic travel schedule of my poor husband seldom allowed us ‘we-four’ time. I was possibly the first one to gate-crash when the Ansal Plaza opened its doors for the less fortunate souls like me in Greater Noida and going there for a McD filet-o-fish and some fries on every Sunday was almost like a ritual for myself and my children!

….then I got transported to Dubai, the City of Malls and was awe-struck, figuratively and literally with their glamour, glory, glitter and glitz. As I wanted a break from my crazy schedule of managing home, kids, office, homework, school-run, a touring husband – for first few months in Dubai I was in a “tourist” mode and crisscrossed the city almost each day to some or the other mall to explore every square inch of the area. I became a veritable “yellow pages” as regards brands, shops, sale deals and offers available in the city!!

The initial excitement subsided and I got myself enrolled for a Master’s Degree in one of the Universities here. Once the studies were over, I somehow managed myself a 9 to 6 job; weekdays were hectic and weekends were reserved for lazing around and some ‘family time’. I was soon ordering grocery from “Trolley.ae” (an online grocery shopping website)! Just as I was exploring more about other on-line grocery shops for better deals, life threw a nasty twist at me …….. and I was again searching for ideas to keep myself engaged and entertained during the days I would be floating and during the days, I would be sinking too!!

On one such nights when the steroids were keeping me awake all night, a thought crossed my mind like a flash of light and in the next minute, I was sitting upright with my laptop open in front of me and I typed in Google search bar “On line Saree hopping from India”. Few sites popped up and after a thorough research, I started clicking on images of designer sarees from Mirraw.com. They deliver all over the world, and got few mails from satisfied customer to prove their claim for authenticity and genuineness!!

I am a thorough-bred Bengali and saree is one of my weaknesses – I love to buy them, I love to wear them and I love to store them neatly in numerous suitcases that I have at home (thanks to my husband’s travel requirements). By the time it was 4 am in the morning, I painstakingly checked images of 200 sarees on offer and chose few in my “wish list” – driving away the “sleeplessness and chemotherapy nausea”. Each time a saree caught my fancy, I divided the price in Indian rupees by 14.38 and reverse conversion from Indian Rupees to Dirhams was such a pleasant experience, now that I am a completely Dirham-adapted NRI! …and now the real dilemma….

…….is there any justification that I would suddenly splurge on such on-line shopping? Is there any occasion close by that I need to wear new saree? And something crossed my mind again in a flash – the indulging smile on my husband’s face before he left on a long tour,” Stay well and happy. Do whatever makes you happy”. During that moment, I was on an all- time-high on Happiness Parameter and all dilemmas vanished. I filled in my shopping cart with three sarees and two necklaces from the ‘costume jewellery’ section, typed in the credit card number and hit the button “Pay” with full force.

The day FedEx delivered a neatly sealed packet on door step, I broke into an instant “Zumba Zig” while my daughter watched me nervously and ran to her dad possibly to check if chemotherapy makes people behave ‘in a different way’ also! For the first time, my husband appreciated my choice and with that same indulging smile, said softly,” oh, beautiful! Why didn’t you order few more?”

I flashed an evil smile while arranging my ‘shopping haul’ in my wardrobe and said, “I have 4 more chemo sessions to go through, Mr. Ray! Just make sure there is enough balance in those ‘add-on’ credit cards” and exited the room.      

If I have said that I love sarees, then I am an ‘average-Indian woman’ and I love gold too! Was it a coincidence that the very auspicious ‘gold-buying’ day of Akshay Tritiya was around the corner and I never missed the date to buy some gold and invite prosperity! I considered it almost a conspiracy when I found the catalogues of Damas and Joyalukkas in the mailbox just on the day my husband returned from tour! I waited patiently for the right time and over an ‘awesome breakfast’ of Puri-aloo sabzi, the next morning, I spread out the designs in front of him.  

“But it’s not safe for you to go to a crowded place, my dear. I will take some time out from office and buy something for you”.

“Nooooo”, I croaked and almost tripped over the next chair and rush to hug him tightly. “We can always buy the gold before the real date. Damas will not be so crowded before Akshay Tritiya”, I cried out!

Wouldn’t it be a life-time loss if I did not get to see each design on display, hold them in my hand, check them for weight, strolling from counter to counter aimlessly and finally choosing whatever my husband suggested? A loving husband that he is, we were out on jewellery shopping the next day and came home with a big, flashy paper bag, very happy and satisfied with the real shopping complimenting my online shopping.

The joy and happiness of buying something is lost to a great extent if it is not approved by dear friends. During a community celebration a few days later, I wore a saree from my ‘online shopping’ collection while waiting eagerly for comments from my friends. When friends unanimously approved of my choice and my online shopping skills, I was ready for another night-long shopping spree anytime soon but sadly enough, the gold necklace could not be worn as the scarf covered part of my neck ( scarfs adore my bald head now that chemo therapy has claimed my crowning glory!)

The excitement of wearing a scarf and feeling like an Arab woman immediately died down when the joy of buying a beautiful ‘temple necklace’ from Damas could not be shared with my lovely friends! It was now time for shopping for a real-looking and fashionable wig. The lovely long tresses of mine was too much of a part of my identity and I could not bear the pain of seeing myself ‘bald and ugly’ in front of the mirror whatever the mirror might say!

…..thanks to a very dear friend, we took real long in terms of time and effort and a very chic, almost real-looking wig now has found a permanent place on my head and I got to flaunt a hairstyle with front fringes to everyone’s surprise!! I feel myself complete and beautiful and would be waiting for an opportunity to wear another saree from my collection, the temple necklace and the stylish wig!!

My wish-list in Mirraw.com is full and almost as a routine, I check the website for new arrivals just to keep me on top of it. On-line shopping has never been so much of fun and with some real shopping to compliment that, life is treating me pretty well, I must say……

Accept life as it comes and look beautiful, stay beautiful and feel beautiful, all my lovely friends!!