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My parents are selling my childhood home. My big beautiful nearly 70-year-old house. This will be the last post I write from under this roof, sitting in this room, gazing out of this window at this flurry of green that I love so so much. 

This is an ode to my beautiful house, a place that will remain in my heart for a lifetime.

This isn't really a blog post for anyone to read.  It's more like a word vomit of all the things I don't want to forget. And it'll probably be super long. 

 Our story in this house began in the year I was born. My grandfather bought it from an old Gujarathi Settu. It was and still is known as Settu-nde veed. The architecture, everything was built around their Gujarathi style, something that would enrapture all those who visit us.

So many people lived in our house before us, the Gujrathi family, my dad’s brother and his family, my cousin and her family before finally coming to us in the year I was born.

I spent the first couple of years of my life in this house, and most of it is mostly blurry. Like an old video cassette playing with a lot of static. There are bits and pieces here and there that I manage to piece together through photographs. 

Climbing the old guava tree, making mann-putt and crushing leaving to make fresh mailanji on the muttam, tending to the chickens in the backyard, a super cool dog house with sliding doors for Tommy and Julie and later Judy, hunting for kuzhi-annas in the car shed, waiting excitedly at the front door for my acha to come home, my sister teaching me to ride a cycle, skinned knees from falling off the cycle one too many times.

Two big pots in the front steps, one which fell and broke when my dad to into a tussle with someone, my amma in a pink saree cutting my nails sitting in the side steps, the big guava tree my sisters and cousins would always climb and the swing that hung from it, the little guava tree that I'd climb and hours atop alone because the big guava tree was way too big for my little arms and legs....I’d managed to romanticize the house a fair amount based on these tidbits of memories. 

I don’t remember how I’d felt when we suddenly left for Sharjah a little after my 7th birthday. I remember parts of the birthday celebration but... was I sad? Did I walk through the house saying goodbye to all the rooms? Did I shed tears over the guava tree? I wish I remembered how I felt then.

The memories waned as we built a home in a foreign country that had no guava trees or chickens in the backyard. 

When we’d come to India to visit during the summer holidays, the house had lost all appeal to me. It had new inhabitants now, my dad’s cousin and family. They had made it their own, not a trace of our memories were found anywhere. It didn’t feel like ours anymore. Our cozy little flats back in UAE, that was home now, not this broken down old place. I’d grumble whenever we had to visit my cousins. We'd turned into smooty lil NRI kids, I guess.

Even then, when there was talk of selling the house, I’d plucked a leaf off of one of the trees and saved it between the pages of a diary, where it still remains.

The house then went to my dad's elder brother and family who stayed for the duration of his daughter's wedding. The first wedding in the house. I still felt nothing. 

A few more years pass. As our lives in the desert moved forward steadily, the house once again came into the picture. It was time for my eldest sister’s wedding – the first wedding of the family. It was decided that the house needed a makeover. The previous inhabitants had moved out. My mom and dad set out to turn it into a home. 

Everyone was excited. We initially only had 2 bedrooms. The large hall upstairs which had been a kind of playroom/partyhall/dance class area was going to be turned into 2 bedrooms. I was still in high school then and I was kinda excited about having a bedroom of my own(a luxury that had never been bestowed on me) even though it would be years before it would actually turn into my room for real. 

I remember picking out the colours of the tiles. My sister- the bride- got to pick the posh-est one, royal maroon, and my dad even agreed to put a bathtub in her room. I wanted grey. I don’t know why. I somehow thought grey sounded cool and adult-y I guess.

When all the renovations were done, we didn’t really have much time to actually enjoy and take in the house because of all the mad wedding prep. Still, I think those were the first solid, unblurry memories that we made in this house. It was constantly filled with people, so many relatives had come to stay because of course, we had room for them. The house constantly echoed of voices, music, laughter… it was like it had come alive again after so long.

We did it all over again for my 2^nd sister’s wedding and even held pennu kannals at the house.

After that wedding was over, my parents once again prepared to lock up the house before returning to UAE. I headed back to college. During short college breaks, I’d go to my grandparent’s house in Palghat, which felt more like home than this house had. When seniors asked me where I was from, I’d always fumble between Sharjah and Palghat and Thrissur.. Because I wasn’t sure what the answer was supposed to be. Which was home?

Post my sister’s marriage, we once again found relatives who’d move into our house – my dad’s cousin’s parents. They moved out a few years later. And my parents left UAE for good and finally moved back into our house of 24 years in 2009.

Both my sisters had been pregnant with their first child at the time, and my parents began prepping the house for the first of many more tiny offspring.  

When we brought home our first baby – K, my nephew, from the hospital, it turned into the happiest place in the world. A tiny little child in the house – it was such an alien concept for me, me being the last child our house had known. Our house was finally turning into a home again, with chickens and plants and heaps of toys and a crib and actual furniture. Guests were pouring in again. I would rush home from hostel every chance I got, carrying the baby around the house, showing him the birds and trees and stuff. There is a washing rock, a place where I’d sat with all of my kids to expose them to some morning sun to bump up their Vit A level. It’s one of my warmest quiet memories of the house.  

We brought home two more nieces L and J after that straight from the hospital into this house. Both of whom spent their first few years growing up here. It’s such a wonderful place for a child to grow up in, with lots and lots of space to run around and play hide and seek, mud to roll around in, trees to climb, and critters to discover. And I got to experience the house all over again in a whole different light while I ran about and played around with these kids, kind of like reviving those old blurry childhood memories.

We brought home our beloved Bolty and later Coco, because every house needs a dog. We did have Tommy, Julie and Judy way back when we were kids too. And they all had their own set of adventures in this house.

Oh, and I almost forgot, the elephants! So our house had such a huge yard that when we’d have our temple festival, the mahouts would bring the elephants to our house to let them rest. It was one of the coolest things ever, walking out the front door and seeing 2-3 elephants just chilling right there. I remember feeding the kids food while distracting them with the elephants. What luxury! One of the elephants got a little bored and broke off one of our papaya trees one time. We’d watch as the mahouts later bathed them and got them ready for the festival. My dad would always make sure that we got a chance to feed them coconuts and bananas before they left. What are the odds of something like that ever happening to us ever again?

I learned to drive and would practice in our front yard. Broke a bunch of pots. I attempted to climb my guava tree again and fell off it. I went to my first job interview from this house. I received my first appointment letter in this house. I had my many pennukannals in this house. I got ready for my wedding day in this house. Stepped out of here crying thinking I’d not be seeing much of it anymore. Everyone still laughs at me for that. I found out that I was pregnant while I was under this roof. 

I came back to this house in my 8^th month of pregnancy. I remember standing out in the front yard in the morning with my shirt hiked up, belly protruding to catch up on my Vitamin A, along with my little niece J, who’d do the same. 

I would walk around and around the yard every day, sometimes calling out random baby names. When my due date was nearing and my baby was refusing to budge, I remember adich vaaralling the muttam inspired by an old movie. 

I brought my baby girl home from the hospital into this house. My mom welcomed her like she'd done for all the kids who'd come before, with a vilak and thaalam at the doorstep. 

I then, like my parents had done for us, set out to turn it into her home for D, the only one she’d known. I was so excited that she was born in the same hospital as me and then brought into the same house as me. I lived there for the first 7 years of my life before moving away and she got to live here for the first 8. 

Motherhood was scary but having seen 3 other babies brought up in the same exact spot, I kinda felt like I knew my way around a little bit. There was a lot less fumbling. We had a room specifically for newborn babies and their mothers. Cupboards that had held baby stuff over the years. The coil and hook for the crib were never taken down. 

D took her first steps here, said her first word, learned her first song, cut her first cake, got ready to go to her first day of school.. and so so so many more firsts under this roof. While the memories of all my childhood firsts in this house are blurry blobs, all of hers are crystal clear to me. I’m so glad that she got to spend a good portion of her childhood running free among trees, rolling around in the mud and dancing in the rain just like me. I hope she holds onto those memories. 

D and I moved from room to room. After spending the entirety of the 2020 lockdown in a tiny room downstairs with no windows, we finally moved upstairs and turned it into our little kingdom. The one with the grey bathroom tiles I'd chosen. I scrubbed and cleaned like a maniac and little by little turned it into our cozy little sanctuary. I put up a canopy of sorts, strung fairy lights, and decorated it with art and plants, and made it my own.

 No one (other than the kids) would visit us there, we could be as loud as we wanted and dance as weirdly as we liked. My windows didn't need curtains - we could walk around naked and no one would care, we could stay up as late as we wanted and no one would know. Sometimes D and I sing out loud in the middle of the night while lying in bed. It was our own little isolated world.. and I'll miss it so much.

My friends would always tell me, it isn’t really about the house, it’s the people inside it, the moments you have with them that make it really a home. They may be true, but I don’t know. The house felt like one of us. A silent spectator of the many million memories we created there. A safe space. No matter where I go, when I get back home and climb up those stairs and get to the top, I always always heave a sigh of relief involuntarily. Like I'm... home. I don't know if I'll ever get that feeling anywhere else. 

I was supposed to finish writing this before we moved out of there. Didn't. It's been almost two months since we moved and I still haven't gotten around to finishing this. 

I don't know what more to write

Ok, now I'm just going to list down all the stuff I can still see/hear about the house when I close my eyes.

Yellow petals falling in the rain from my kanikonna when it rains, the ground covered with yellow, the sound of my window creaking when I open it every morning, sitting at the front door when it rains, drinking coffee sitting on the front step, sitting with D in the balcony almost every night before bed listening to music, sometimes dancing around in the dark while I carry her on my hip.

The marapatti who'd walk around in the attic at night. The morning sun hitting our big mango tree, how the light would beautifully sneak through from in between the leaves. The feel of the bark of the old mango tree. How everything would be so extra green when you open the side door of the house after it rains. 

Sitting on the washing rock. The smell of guavas. The smell of pacha maanga. Amma's excitement when her roses bloom. Acha walking through the paramb with his walking stick, Coco in tow. The thumping sound when the kids hop up the stairs. The smoothness of the banister. The creaky sound on almost all the door hinges. Tiny drops of light here and there. 

The crows and the squirrels feeding on the rice we leave out for them, the excitement we'd feel when we spot a Rufus treepie or a parrot or owl or a bat - all of whom we'd named. Random snake-spotting. Watching Coco run all the way till the gate his ears flapping about. Hosing down the kids with the garden hose in the front yard. The song from the temple. Amma watering the plants in the evening. 

Night walk to get the milk packets from the gate, the squeak of the gate, the coolness of the round smooth pebbles we'd collect, the quietness of the morning in my room. My balcony filled with plants and the way they'd look in the morning when the golden light pours in through the windows. My bedroom wall covered with drawings by all my kids. My parent's bedroom wall with all of the kid's height markings over the years. 

The rain - I know the rain isn't part of the house but rain always felt better from the house. The smell of it when it hits the ground. The sound of it hitting the roof. The way it makes all the leaves glisten. The way the roof changes colour as the rain gets heavier. The way the trees shake about wildly. The many many buckets and pots we'd keep out to catch the leaks. The way the floor would instantly get cooler. The feeling of rain when it falls on my face when we sit at the front door, huddling under a blanket. The muddy puddles we'd jump into. The way we'd run through the yard getting drenched.

I did not miss the rats and the giant spiders and the ants everywhere and definitely not the kodhus but mentioning them here as they were common occurrences too. 

We've made a lot of amazing memories and quite a few bad ones too in this home. Hundreds of life lessons were learned and countless hours were spent laughing, crying, playing, dancing and just being. Nestled between two humongous mango trees, our almost 70-year-old house stood strong with us through it all, providing comfort during the good times and the bad. 

I don't know if this is the next phase of growing up. If it is, then I hate it. I hate having to let go of this. This feels worse than a break-up. How does one get closure from a break-up with a house? Where are the books and articles and videos on that?

2023 was a tough year for us. When the news first came that the house was being sold, I didn't give it much thought. Because this has happened many times before and it always fell through. But as the deal got more and more concrete, I started feeling uneasy. I was devastated when I was told we'd have to leave within 6 months. All of us went into a sort of mourning for a while. We made every second count when all of us got together during the summer holiday. 

But then we were hit with one bad thing after another and the grief over the house was put on the backburner. As our family struggled not to crumble under the weight of all the bad stuff that was thrown our way - I realized losing our house isn't the worst thing that can happen to us and my friends were actually right. It's the people.. like my sister and I would repeat to each other whenever one of us starts feeling too sad about the house. It's the people, we still have the people who are in the house with us.. Our big chaotic family.. and that's all that matters. 

What's Something You Didn't Know 10 Years Ago That You Now Know?

Recently, I read a letter that a friend of mine wrote to his younger self. It got me thinking about how my life has changed in the span of the last 10 years.  And what are the things that I learnt?

Since D isn't 10 yet, I asked her what's one thing she didn't know when she was 6 that she now knows at 8 years. She looked thoughtful for a moment. And said solemnly "Education. The word education has all the vowels in it. My friend told me." 

I was obviously impressed.

Then I set off on my own mind journey. Trying to think of all the random stuff I would have picked up in the past 10 years. Thanks to Instagram, I come across so much random new information every day - most of which I would have been well off not knowing at all. But after having dug deep, here are some random and sorta kinda meaningful life lessons from the past 10 years. 

1. I now know what it feels like to have money in the bank - your own hard-earned money. And the feeling of safety that comes with it. But also the feeling of panic knowing that it can be emptied in an instant. Also, spending your own money = perpetually feeling guilty about spending your own money.
2. I realize how the things I say and do actually have some effect on people. I'd always thought - it's just me, what difference does it make? But when people quote back things that you said, when your daughter picks up some random word you said 3 months ago and your friend starts wanting children solely on the stories you tell her about D, you know you're making some kinda ripple
3. Ten years back, my parents were just parents. People who look after you. It never occurred to me that they're getting older too. And that blanket of security they provide can be taken away from you suddenly.  A scary thought that you try to ignore, but it keeps gnawing at the back of your mind constantly.
4. I now know that I didn't turn out to be the mother I thought I would be. I didn't turn out to be "that exceptional mom who never gives their child the phone." Not better or worse. Just mostly okay. 
5. I now know that credit cards are evil.
6. Sometimes when you're holding your little baby and eating food at the same time, you will tend to drop food on her by mistake. It's okay. Just pick it up off her head and keep eating. Bottom line - you will screw up as a parent so many times and hate yourself for it. The feeling will pass.
7. I now know that life doesn't work out like a timetable - school, college, work, marry, child, happily ever after. Nope. The random twists and turns come out of nowhere. And sometimes even before you can catch your breath, you're pushed down a whole new road you never even knew existed. 
8. That it's possible to wake up on a new year thinking this will be the year that you travel and meet new people and completely alter your life and then end up staying home all year long because of a pandemic and then meet new people and completely alter your life. 
9. The shocking realization that your opinions about people you may have known for years can change instantly when their ugly sides come out in random WhatsApp forwards or political stances.
10. Having a child doesn't automatically make you a responsible person. Nor does getting married.
11. It is scarily possible to love someone to a level that seems like an obsession. 
12. Eagles can fly over rain clouds. And chickens are descendants of dinosaurs.
13. That there'll be spans of time where you're in a good place with your friends - where you are talking every day, having deep discussions, joking about stuff, your Whatsapp group is pinging all the time and you are all very involved in each other's lives. It's a very short span. People change and priorities change. Enjoy it while it lasts. You'll come across more spans with different sets of people. 
14. Sometimes all people want is someone to listen to them. With every person's story that you listen to, you learn a new perspective. You learn about a life entirely different from yours. And hopefully, you learn to be a bit more empathetic. 
15. There is a world outside of rom-coms genre of movies. You're going to get your mind blown.
16. Plants are freaking awesome.
17. That no matter what I do, I will somehow always end up disappointing my dad. 
18. You're supposed to add salt to rice while cooking it. And apparently, there are some 6000 different kinds of rice.
19. The term "bursting with pride"' is a real sensation you will feel inside your stomach and heart when you watch your child on stage or standing up in class to say a speech or something, that makes you feel like you will literally combust with pride.
20. Validation is a drug. Extra potent when it comes from people you want validation from.
21. That I'm capable of making basic passable meals - 3 times a day. 
22. That I'm a freaking idiot for not taking care of my skin in my 20s.
23. There are 600 different ways to save money. Having the willpower to is a whole different thing.
24. Thousands of people are going to read what I wrote and actually like it. And even give me money for it. My designs are going to show up on signboards, packages, vehicles, and menus. I'll make content that makes loads of people laugh.  And it's going to feel amazing. And yet I'm still going to remain terribly underconfident about my craft on most days.
25. Make-up is expensive but useful to make you feel nice about yourself. Same with sarees.
26. A strong dupatta works so much better and is way cheaper than a baby carrier.
27. Your period will show up on the days you have to travel. There isn't any Google hack that can change that. Just accept it.
28. The definition that you had of "'love" up until now is going to change and change and change.
29. Having a job that pays well but you don't enjoy means you're happy only on 1 day of the month.
30. The word "'Education" has all the vowels in it.

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So when I started to write this, I was curious to know what other people's 10-year life lessons would've been. So I went around asking a few of my friends and had some lovely conversations. Here are some of my favourite responses to the question "What's something you know now that you didn't know 10 years ago."

That you don’t have to physically look beautiful or pretty for a guy to like you.
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That you don’t have to accept the love you ‘think’ you deserve.

Managing finances.

Beginner-level cooking.

I used to think  "Salary - expenses at the end of month = saving for investments etc". Then during covid saw a video of Tanmay where he brought a personal finance expert who said it should be "Salary on day you get - savings/investments = balance left for you to spend for the month. And that investments % he said was 15 or 20%"

I'm ashamed to admit this as a cricket fan, I didn't know that ends were changed after each over.

I didn't know what potpourri was

You slowly become your mom/dad unknowingly. You say I won't be like her/him and one fine day you complain about how vegetable prices are rising and how your body is paining and how well will you enjoy a good sound sleep.

That you don't have to wait for marriage to have sex. And having a bidet or not affects the quality of life

Cooking takes more time than eating 

Your parents will behave a bit like children and it's hard to make them take care of their health. And it's sad to see them age

Doing adult things like taxes and errands takes a lot of time

That there are careers outside medicine, engineering (and architecture which is the option outside these two)

Sometimes it isn't love. It's grooming.

Gentle parenting. Prioritizing myself first. Healthy eating, exercise. Driving. 

Didn't know that I was a person who can barely keep contact 

That I would have a nice career so early in life. In my head, I would have been boss lady like at 35 yrs.

That class 10 is not "the turning point" but only the beginning of a series of turning points.

When I was 12 I thought people who were 20 plus had their life sorted. But now I knowwwwwwww.

That I can have soup and ice cream together if I want to. That I can get drenched in the rain without getting a fever.

10 years ago, I was worried about people n society ... but now I know how to deal with it ..athre ullu

How rich are you enulath matters when it comes to a lot of things

Sex isn't a big deal.

Love was supposed to be eternal but anyone can change their feelings anytime.

One thing is that I didn’t know the truths of the movie industry

It’s a very unsettling realisation that majority of the world still revolves around sex. Bhoolokathinte spandanam thanne.

The fact that my mom wasn't lying when she said sit properly or you'll hurt your back.

I thought relationships are meant forever; like be it family, friends or whoever we had some intimacy with... I felt it would stay the same forever...

 Back then I dint know how to start convos... ippo ariyam ennala... but I feel I'm better aware of beginning a conversation.

That everything really happens for the good.

That growing old isn't that fun

I know you now. 

25 Wishes For My Daughter

I'm not going to start this blog with "Well, the last time I wrote was so long ago." I'm not a frequent blogger. I haven't been one in a long time. I admit it. Not because I don't always have anything to say. It's just taken a back seat. Most of my blog ideas lately were eventually just turned into Instagram or Facebook captions. Isn't it ironic? I started this blog years ago for an outlet to put out random stuff. Now the number of outlets available are overwhelming. 

A lot has changed since the last time I wrote. I'm a working mom now, with a regular 9 to 5 job, except I work from home. We have a new dog now, but I somehow can't seem to connect with her like I did with Bolty. My daughter is in school now, blowing my mind every single day with the stuff she learns.

I've read pieces of late where people write future advice or points for their kids to always remember.  I've been wanting to do something of the sort for a while now, but then being the parent that I am, I really am not sure half the time what it is that I want for my child. And what if I put something down now and then change my mind about it later? And what if she holds it against me for writing something I did not mean. 
Then I realized I am not writing some sort of constitutional law here. I'm just going to look at her and write what I feel right now at this moment. I've got a few more years before she will be able to read this blog. Or rather skim through it and roll her eyes and be like "Urrrrrghh, this is soooo lame!"

Anyhow, here are some of my wishes for my beautiful 4 year old daughter. Things that I'd like her to know, would like her to absorb.

1. Be kind, but know when not to let your kindness be taken for granted. Help whomever you can but don't ever let others take credit for your work. 

2. Be confident about what you can do, but don't be cocky. Try out as many things you can before you figure out what it is that you're good at, and then stick to it.

3. Be strong, bold and brave, but don't go looking for trouble. Know when to keep your head down and wait for the storm to pass.

4.  Voice your thoughts, let it be known if you disagree, but don't ever be disrespectful of the other person's opinion.

5. Make good friends, but don't depend on them for your happiness. Don't depend on anyone but yourself for your happiness. 

6. You can dislike somebody for their character, but don't dislike a person because of their ignorance. 

7. Try not to be invisible. You don't have to be the centre of attention if you don't want to. Just try to leave a room having affected atleast one person in that room. (This is something that I am not, but would love if you could be.)

8. You will fall in love, many times. And get your heart broken or break hearts too. Each one is going to help mould the person you are going to be. And also help you be more clear about who you want to spend your life with.

9. Make lists. Lots of them. It somehow helps put things into perspective.

10. Live alone at some point in life. Own an apartment, Get a dog. I will probably argue with you and probably never want to let you go too far, but pay no heed.  Do it anyway.

11. Always turn off the lights in the bathroom and close the door when you're done. And turn off the tap while you brush.  (these are things I tell you literally everyday now, so I'm guessing it would be applicable whenever it is you're reading this.)

12. Have a good relationship with God. I'm not saying you should pray everyday. That is upto you. But do have something/someone you believe in. If you do pray, remember to say thank you! 

13. Do something everyday that makes you happy. Not because someone needs you to do it, or because it's the right thing. But don't do drugs.

14. Sometimes when we fight, I will say things to you that I do not mean. And so will you. I will forgive you every time. Please forgive me too?

15. Dare to be funny. If you have a funny random thought, don't worry about what the listener will think. Just say it. If you earn a laugh out of it, great. If you get an eye roll instead, no big deal. 

16. Whether you're a morning person or a night person, have a particular time in a day where you can be alone with yourself without any distractions. 

17. You will make so many wrong decisions in life. Cry about it if you must. Then figure out a plan B. Life will not always turn out the way you expect it to be. You can either feel sorry for yourself or do something to help yourself out. 

18. Don't expect the universe, or your mom and dad to bail you out of the same mistake over and over again. Maximum two times. After that I'm leaving you in jail. 

19. It is never too late to start something new. I have a friend who is off to college at 27. Another one who has decided to learn dance at the age of 36.  I figured out  I got a vague idea about my career at 31. Your aunt is learning to drive at 40. Your grandfather has been bitten by the travel-bug at 70. There's never a bad time to do what you're passionate about.

20. Treat your body well but eat whatever you want. Don't be the kind of girl who has to think before biting into a cupcake. Not if you're my daughter. Eat what you want. Just not drugs. 

21. Save save save your money. It's awesome to spend money. It's even more awesome to let it grow in a bank somewhere. Money is important and essential. The sooner you learn that, the better. 

22. Remember you are beautiful. I hope you don't have a hard time accepting that. Also, your hair, I don't know whether you'll love it or you'll hate it future, but it is one of the most spectacular looking things ever. I've cried many a tear into those beautiful locks of yours. 

23. Try not to take what people say too serious. Someone calls you fat at a wedding, feel bad about it for a bit if you must, then let it go, post a joke about it on Facebook and go eat that cupcake. 

24. The purpose of your life is not to cook, clean or be the supporting cast in somebody else's life. I'm the mother of an extraordinary little girl and I swear to God, if you grow up and throw your life away for anything less than extraordinary, I will be heartbroken.

25. In a few years, we might not be close. You might not want to spend time with me. Or hear what I have to say. We might not see eye to eye. That's okay. That's probably karma. But know that whenever you need me, or if you're in trouble, or need advice, or just need to vent,  just go "Amma" and look at me with those big eyes of yours and I'll turn into mush and be there for you. It works as of now, I'm sure if will work 20 years from now as well. 


But most of all, I need you to always remember that I love you like crazy and there isn't anything in the world that can change that.

Damn, this list started at 10 things. I could probably keep going but won't. Gee, I feel old and wise! How did I get here?

Types of Moms

                   Being a mom is no easy feat. I've always had people tell me "Oh, you're going to be an awesome mom someday."
Did I turn out awesome? Hmm, well maybe not exactly. I mean yes, there are days where I end the day with a feeling of triumph, fist pumping the air and going "Yeah, I killed it today!" And there are days where I want to crawl into a cupboard and just stay there and cry all day long while stuffing my face with chocolate biscuits. Motherhood is hardly a consistent affair. So I've listed a few types of mom avatars I have taken upon on a day to day basis.

Scene : Its almost bath time. Your little tyke can sense the danger and is bracing herself. Disaster is just around the corner. She is hovering around everywhere but anywhere within ten feet radius of the bathroom. A gigantic tantrum seems like its on the agenda to avoid the horrendous event.

1. Angry/ impatient/distraught mom
We've all had these days. When you get pushed and pushed and pushed so hard that you just lose it and want to punch a wall. I usually resort to going to the other room and punching the living daylights out of a pillow or my husband. This is also the type of mom I am on the days that I'm going through the wonderful phenomenon called PMS.
"Get into the bathroom. Get in here. GET IN! You get in here RIGHT now! Thats IT! I've had it. You do Not want make me angry. I'm going to count till 5 and if you're not in here by then... then THAT IS IT! "("That's it" usually means I just continue yelling and shouting some more)
The countdown technique doesn't really work with my daughter because she just recently discovered numbers so every time I do that she gets all excited and counts along with me. This angry stage can also be short-lived if she ends up doing something ridiculously adorable and I have to struggle to keep a straight face. But more often, it ends up in tears (mostly mine) and a heavy dose of guilt.

2. Sad/desperate/melodrama mom
This is another common one for me especially during the on sight of PMS. PMS while parenting is just one of Nature's biggest controversies.
"Pleaaaase, baby pleeeease *sob* please for the love of God! Please stop torturing me and come to bath! Pleeeaseeeee! Why are you doing this me! What did I do to deserve this! Why God whyyyyy!!"
Chances are that the toddler involved will usually be lying with her feet in the air singing loudly completely oblivious to your pleading and melodrama. This stage also leads to offering bribes. But again that does not work because toddlers do not understand bribes, I've realized. They just lie on the floor and cry until you bribe them to stop crying. 

3. Goofy/funny mom
Okay, this is me on my good days. I bring out the tickle monster and chase her into the bathroom. Or let her bring literally every single kitchen utensil or household item into the bathroom with her (because bath toys are too mainstream). You could make up a silly bath song. And pretend  the bucket is a bathtub.  And water fights obviously. This one time I got into the shower with her fully clothed. And we did a rain dance. She thought it was hilarious.
Disclaimer :goofy mom can and may turn into impatient mom if said child is not receptive of any of the goofiness.

4. Tricky/sneaky mom
This trick works only once in a while and is a bit mean. Just go stand in the bathroom and look at the floor or ceiling and stare in amazement. Make sure your child can see you. Then exclaim something like "OH MY GOD, did you see that elephant!" Or fairy or dinosaur. Or the entire cast of Friends. Or whatever your kid fancies. My kid usually comes running if I tell her there is an itsy-bitsy spider in the corner and there usually is so I'm technically not being a liar.
Sometimes you don't even need to lie. Just leave the bathroom door open with the lights on and leave the room. Chances are their mischievous minds will start churning and they ll be compelled to go and explore the bathroom on their own. You then sneak up behind them and trap them before they figure out what is happening. Kind of like catching flies, I just realized now. Also make sure you go to them without much delay. I once took a little too long and discovered my little monkey with one foot inside the toilet.

5. Don't give an f mom/cool mom/unhygienic mom
Smell hair. Seems okay. Whatever. Bathtime is overrated anyway. 
This is me on more days than I'd like to admit. 






Whichever the kind of mom you are, just know that you are not alone. "We are all a hot mess, some just hide it better than the others."
Happy mom-ing!

Motherhood and its Life-Altering Properties

                        I just realized that I had zero posts in 2016. Zero! I had such an eventful year and Nothing I wrote. Oh well. I blame it on mommy-hood. And the lack of a laptop. My laptop died an uneventful death the day we brought my newborn home from the hospital and she peed on top of it. And I discovered it almost a month later. Hey there you go, that's motherhood in a nutshell.
I think I have been reluctant to write here because my brain refuses to form sentences about anything else other than my baby and her billion antics and expressions and types of poo. And I know if I start writing about my child, it will turn into a never-ending odyssey. So which is why I've decided to talk about myself in this new post. About being a mom. And motherhood. And how my baby changed my life... Oh okay fine this is technically a post about her only.
They say being a mom completely transforms your life. Yes, it turns you into this lovely maternal being full of softness and sweetness. It also brings out this a stark raving mad weirdo monster. One that you never knew existed within you.

1. Aww babies!
If you're someone who don't have a child yet and love kids, chances are having a kid will change how you feel about them. You probably won't stare at every little baby that crosses your path and go awwwwww. You will end up giving it a dead stare while looking up to meet eyes with its mother. Like one jail inmate looks at another. Silently communicating support. "Hang in there, girl! Only 'n' number of hours till bedtime."

Now when I do gaze upon a lil un', I go "Awww...she's so...Oh My God, her shoes! I need those shoes for my baby. Where did she get those shoes. Shooooooes!" Yes, I have a baby-shoe addiction.

2. Scared? Me?
You have to be the brave one. You're not allowed to be scared anymore. There will be times when a tiny infant will stare right at you without blinking in the dark. And all you can see is their eyes shining.  And it will scare the crap out of you. When my nieces or nephew were little and used to do that, I'd just hand them straight back to my sisters and be like "Okay that's it, I'm done, tata bye-bye" and get the heck out of there. But when the same happened with my own child, I just twisted my head as far as I could away from her face while holding and rocking her in my arms and singing the lullaby I made up called "Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, creepy baby."
And there are times when it isn't even the baby that is scaring you. I remember this one time I was at home and I had watched a scary movie. Okay, it was trailer of a scary movie. I don't voluntarily watch scary movies anymore. So this 2 minute trailer had freaked me out pretty bad. So after tossing and turning in bed for a while, I decided, "Okay, that's its, I'm going to go sleep next to my mom and dad in the other room."  I almost got off the bed before I remembered that there was this tiny baby lying next to me. Who I was supposed to look after and protect and be there for in case she gets afraid. I think that was one moment that had me going "Ohhh so this is what being an adult is like." I got back into bed, grabbed hold of her feet (she was too tiny to hug), squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to every God I know till I drifted off to sleep.


3. Let's talk about my baby!

So like I mentioned before, she is all I talk about. And its not like I don't try to not to. When we speak about other things, my mind is like "Ask about my baby. Stop talking so I can tell you more about my baby. Haha that's funny but not as funny as the time my baby did the most hilarious thing. " Even while chatting with other moms, I'm just waiting for them to send me a picture of their child so I can send the 10 pictures of my baby that I have already shortlisted. And you should see my Facebook timeline. Its like I'm her Social media manager, posting witty anecdotes about her life every other day.

4. Click Click Click
I admit I used to be a bit of a narcissist. I used to take a shit load of selfies. But then who doesn't? A new dress or  a special occasion warranted atleast 10 selfies. When it comes to the baby, an occasion results in 16 billion pictures. A regular day ended with 16 billion pictures.
"Oh the baby smiled." click click click click. The baby burped click click click. The infamous poop face click click click click.  My phone literally rejects any image that does not have her in it now. Right this minute, my phone's camera roll has 1,897 pictures in it. Of which I'm pretty sure atleast 1800 are pictures of her. The rest 97 are probably pictures by her. Of the wall and the ceiling and the bedsheet and the top of her head.

5. Oh Sweet Night!
I've always been a night owl who stays up late at night so staying up with the baby wouldn't pose too much of a problem. Or so I thought. First of all, I used to stay up to watch movies or read or paint or play games. Not to have a tiny human take turns between gnawing at me and screaming bloody murder all night long. Also the decision as to when I should go to sleep used to base solely on when I was starting to feel sleepy. But now the reins of control are with the tiny minion who sometimes likes fooling me by pretending to almost fall asleep to suddenly jolt up and give me a "Haha just kidding, I'm gonna poop again" look. But you know, it gets better. As they grow their sleep pattern gets better and soon they're sleeping through the night. Which means I should be getting a good night of sleep. But me being me, the moment she falls asleep, loud strains of "Haaaallelujah! Haaaaallelujah!" blasts in my head. Its literally a one woman party after that. I can do all the things that I used to do. I can read, paint, shower, watch things on TV that are not two-dimensional, paint my nails, talk to my friends who are awake on the other side of the world, stare at the wall in silence, write this blog like I am right now. I can be young and interesting again.  Only problem is that the baby does not care that mommy has been up all night binge watching nonsense on Youtube and stuffing herself with all the hidden candies.(Ok, I do the other stuff I mentioned too.. sometimes.) She wakes up at a time which is probably a reasonable time for normal folk to wake up. But to me, anything before 11 am are the unholy hours. And the minute she's up, I have to crack open my eyes which then burns like its on fire before I douse my insides with the sweet relief called coffee. Sometimes, I beg, I plead, I even bribe her to stay in bed a little longer. But nothing works for too long. My day begins the minute her day begins. 

I do realize that I will be the worst mom ever once she starts school. Chances are I'll be the one saying 5 more minutes when she tries to wake me up to get ready for school.

6. Nom Nom Nom
I've always enjoyed food and if its something I especially like, then I like to take my time and cherish each bite. But with a toddler around, getting even mouthful in without being interrupted is a rarity. My girl almost always gets the call from nature, the minute I sit down with the plate. Gone are the days that I get to truly enjoy a meal especially at restaurants. Now I eat with both my eyes on her in case she wanders off and eats something off a stranger's plate. Some nights, I put her to bed early and make myself some comfort food- a bowl of noodles and icy lemon juice, and settle down in front of the screen to watch a movie or series. But I always find that I would have finished the noodles and the drink even before the opening credits are done rolling. Its become a force of habit now.

7. New inhabitant of the heart
Your heart will officially have a new owner. The minute the baby is born, you'll have to clear up all the debris that was lying around in your heart and either throw them out or smush them into a tiny little corner so that the baby can take up the biggest part of it. Its a feeling that just cannot be explained. Its love that cannot be put into words. For example, if another significant person sticks a knife in you, you will, of course, get mad. And might even stab them back. Or at the very least punch them, Or be very very mad at them for atleast a year. If your child sticks a knife in you, you will firstly get mad, yell at her, then lecture her, then feel horrible when you see her lower lip quivering, then try to make her laugh again and then give her a hug and then say sorry. Even though you are the one with the bloody knife stuck in you. This is such a common occurrence in my house. Okay, obviously she doesn't stab me with a knife, its mostly just a fork.

There are, of course, other more important changes. Like how you can never watch or read the news again without feeling mentally disturbed. Or scroll past a picture of a missing child without sharing. Or how you will eventually learn to pray. For your child and others too. Or how you will experience anger, sadness and happiness in measures you've never imagined before. Or how baby songs and nursery rhymes will make you want to throw up at some point. Or how you will learn the names and list of nutrients in vegetables you hadn't even heard of before. Or how trying to dry a toddler's hair is (according to her) equivalent to trying to chop off her head. Or how picking up food that your toddler spit out and tossing it into your own mouth so you don't waste it, will not seem gross at all after some point. Or how your room will always Always smell like urine for a very long time.
So many many many many more new experiences and changes. And it never ends. Every day, I learn something new about her or about me. And everyday is an adventure.

Happy Mother's Day to all such adventurers! May the journey be filled with whacky lovely and special memories. 

The Birth Story

               During my 6th or 7th month of pregnancy, I had read a blog where a woman gave a detailed account about her delivery. I felt quite shaken and scared as I went through it. But once I finished reading the entire article, I felt oddly confident. Like - Hey! Maybe.. just maybe I will also be able to go through with this without completely freaking out. The writer did not mince her words, but didn't make it sound grotesque either. She had written it all very matter-of-factly which i quite liked. I made my husband read it too and it made him sweat and shiver. Pfft,  men.

I don't remember the name of her blog anymore but if I do find it, I'll link it over here. Meanwhile, here is my account of my big day. I didn't want to write it since its now been more than 2 years since I delivered. And my theory is that only if the memory of the first birth vanishes completely from my mind will I be able to say to my husband,  "Hey, don't you think its time for another child?"

I remember watching this one episode from the TV show Friends where Rachel is in labour for 2 whole days. And I used to think - Nah! No way! That's just exaggerated. Noone stays in labor for thaaat long. She would've gotten a c-section long back. Well.. I'm no Rachel but let me begin by telling you that I was in labour for 21 hours. I get mighty proud saying it. And try throwing it out there every chance I get. When my husband says "I was on my feet for 5 hours today at office.", I usually respond with "Yeah well, I was in labour for 21 hours," . My poor husband. I don't think I will ever let him forget it. My child will also probably have a poster in her room that says "Your mother who you rolled your eyes at just now was in labour with you for 21 hours. 21 hours of pain. Just for you." 

So anyway,  I didn't have the whole "Oh my God, my water just broke" scene like in the movies. Which was a pity because I had practiced saying it so many times. Although my due date was right around the corner, my body wasn't doing whatever it should have been doing when it nears labour. I'm going to try and put it in metaphoric terms so as to not terrify or gross you people out completely. So let us suppose that there are these inflatable sliding doors inside my body that has to open for the baby to come out.  These doors must first deflate and then open up little by little. And that is when the water breaks. Well, my doors were fully inflated and tightly shut. My doctor said that if nothing happens within the next few days then, they would have to induce labour. I was so disappointed because I really wanted it to happen on its own. I tried everything. I walked, hopped, trotted, climbed up and down stairs. I did squats, cleaned the floors, ate spicy food, drank herbal tea (again that Friends episode was so informative.) but nothing was working. My husband flew down the night before I had my next doctor's appointment. Which made me feel a little less stressed. 

We went to the doctor's in the morning hoping to convince her to give me some more time. But before I even knew what was happening, I was lying on a hospital bed in the labour ward. But what about my sliding doors?! My doctor explained that the plan was that inorder to try and get those sliding doors to deflate, they would literally give it a little push.  She would jimmy a deflated balloon through the doors and fill it up with water forcing the doors to crack open a tiny bit. And thus jump starting the process. And all the while in my head I was going "You're going to WHAT???! Uh-uh. No way. Lets just cut me open right now." But she was convinced that this would be the safest and best option. And since I wanted to birth naturally as well, I gave in. 

The pains began almost as soon as the procedure was completed. Pulsating pain. Almost like contractions. Well, that was quick, I thought. I was already moaning and groaning. Back in my room I found that my 6 year old nephew had been waiting to see me.  He was a sensitive little soul and could never bear to see me in any sort of pain. I smiled through my pain and squeezed his hand kept telling him "I'm okay. I'm okay" without flinching while trying to stay upright. But still I could tell the little fellow was a bit shaken.

 As soon as he left I lay in bed trying to find a position that helped ease the pain. My husband was constantly by my side, holding my hand telling me to squeeze his hand everytime I felt the pain take over. One minute it would be so intense that I can hardly breath and the next minute its gone and I'm chatting with H about something on TV and taking selfies. It was so weird. I was afraid people would think I was faking it for attention.

I was asked to eat dinner early since I wouldn't be allowed to eat anything once I was taken into the labour room. My mom was feeding me chapati and some curry when I was suddenly overcome by a huge wave of pain that I hurled. And along with the vomit, I felt something pop down south and looked down to see that my clothes were soaking wet. I finally got to say "My water broke!"

Except no. It wasn't my water. It was that damned balloon. It had burst. Ugh!

I was taken into the labour ward shortly after that. The labour ward consisted of two lines of beds separated by huge curtains. I was able to hear various levels of crying from behind each curtain. Which was extremely relaxing. Not.

Only my mom was allowed to remain with me in the ward. This was the first time my mom got the opportunity to witness any of her daughters' in labour. And I don't think she's going to want to again.  I get it now being a mom myself. Seeing your kid writhe in pain while knowing that there isn't much you can do to make her feel better is just pure torture. I feel sorry for making her go through that.  But I don't think I could have done it without her.  

Since I had vomited everything, I felt hungry again and begged the nurse to let me eat.  She finally agreed to let my mom bring me some food. And my mom brought me two slices of bread with jam. I looked at her like "Are you seriously kidding me?" I was hungry enough to eat thirty packets of bread. I told her I wanted more.  And that is how I got to eat the first ever meal that my husband made for me.  Those absolutely delicious bread and pineapple jam sandwiches that he made and handed over to my mother. 

After confirming that nothing would be happening that day, the nurses decided to give me a sedative so that I could sleep through the pain and go at it again in the morning. And I tell you, sedatives are freaking awesome. It felt so wonderful and nice. I could tell that the pain was still very much there but I was just too sleepy to care. 

But that blissful slumber did not last as long as I wanted. At the crack of dawn, I was up again and was being poked and probed. The nurses came every 15 minutes to check the baby's heartbeat and to check if I had dilated enough. And i just wanted to tell them to leave me the hell alone. This went on till mid-day. The pain was starting to get severe. At one point I grabbed hold of my mom and said " Okay enough, I don't want to do this anymore. Let's just go home." I was so thirsty but wasn't allowed to drink water so my mom kept wetting my lips with coconut water, like the nurses suggested. My shrieks went from sad and desperate "Amma.. Ma.. Amma..enough, Ma" to furious cries of "AMMA! AMMA! AMMA!", like I was mad at her as though she was responsible for this pain. The doctor asked me if I wanted an epidural, but me having so much stupid faith in my own level of tolerance thought I could endure just a little bit more. So I said no. 15 minutes later, I was like "Hey doc, about that epidural you were talking about. I changed my mind. I'll take two please." But she told me that I was almost at the final lap and that I had a dilated a good amount. The words I'd been waiting to hear for so long.  

Soon the doctor asked me if I wanted to try and start pushing. It was all that I wanted. I pushed with all my might. Everyone in the waiting room heard my shrieks. But now it was more of war cries rather than helpless yelps. I was on a mission. So I continued to push. I pushed while I was being wheeled into the delivery room. I pushed as I hobbled onto the bed. I was so busy pushing that I didn't notice that the room was suddenly filled with an army of male and females nurses. Normally I would've freaked out about having being so exposed in front of so many strangers. But at that point I didn't care if the whole entire population of Kerala was there as long as they got this child out of me. My doctor came in calm as ever. She was even humming a song.  I immediately felt at ease. She told me I was doing very good and to continue pushing. And there is nothing I love more than people complimenting me on my effort. Besides there were so many people around cheering and shouting encouragements at me that I felt so damn motivated. "Come on! You can do it! Very good! Almost there! We can see the head! One more push, come on!" 

I pushed and pushed and....

*plunck*

I froze. My eyes widened and my mouth was open but no sound was coming out. It was a sensation I could never put into words. It was so quick and sudden, I think I was in shock.  In my head, the whole room had fallen to a silence when it was actually probably quite noisy. 

The next thing I heard was my doctor saying-"Pennkutty aane tto - Its a girl!" My face broke into a humongous smile. One of the nurses laughed and said ooh look at that smile! 

I was so surprised because I had somehow made up in my mind that it was going to be a boy because I terribly yearned for a girl. My whole family as well had predicted that I would have a boy for some reason or the other. I wish I could've seen their gob-smacked expressions when they found out.

I looked around to catch a glimpse of my newborn daughter. I didn't have my glasses on so from a distance I saw a blurry, very tiny dark head. The nurses around me continued to poke me and stitch me up or whatever but my whole attention was at that corner of the room. I think I was a bit light-headed from the medications. I said to the guy who was checking my bp "Edo, ende kochine kaanikke. ende kochine endha thaan kaanikaathe." (show me my baby,  why you no show me my baby.) And he said they would in a minute. She was being cleaned up immediately since she had ingested some fluid. 

Now my cousin had advised me that during labour it is best not to cry since it would take up energy unnecessarily. I had screamed, moaned, yelled and groaned but I had managed to get through it without shedding a tear. Until that moment.

I saw the nurse come over to the bed. She held my baby's face close to mine so that I could see her clearly. A tiny round pink face. With two tiny dark eyes and a funny nose and the tiniest little rosebud mouth. With a shock of black hair. The nurse gently pressed my baby's cheek against mine which was wet from my tears. She felt so warm. And so so smooth. I wanted her to stay there like that. 

But they took her away to show to my family. I wanted to stop them. I wanted to look at her some more. I craned my neck to see her until they walked out the door. 

The exhaustion hit me like a wave. I completely conked off and fell into a deep sleep. Like my sister says the best nap ever! 

Once I was moved back into the ward again, I met my baby again. And fell in love all over again. Thats when I really got to take her in. Touch her. Count all her fingers and toes. Smell her. Kiss her. Tear up looking at her again. She bit right into me during the very first feeding and left me bleeding. But i didn't mind very much.  I was too much in awe that she could've sucker punched me all she wants,  I would've just sat there and gawked at her in amazement.

The next best moment was when I was finally released from the labour ward. I was wheeled out and welcomed a crop of smiling faces. My dad who patted my head and looked proud. My poor sleep deprived but happy mom,  my two sisters who were beaming with happiness, my two excited and ecstatic nieces and my very concerned but sullen nephew (He was pissed that it turned out to be Another girl. He forgave me eventually though.)

This moment felt like my glory moment. Like I had gone and done something so great and emerged a hero. Like I had won a long race. And at the finish line were all these smiling faces. In my head they were applauding as well. My husband, who had gone to get some medicines, met me near my room. He came up to me and squeezed my hand. I could see the joy and pride in his eyes. We were parents! We have our own little girl! It felt like a dream. One we never wanted to be awoken from. We looked at each other while smiling like crazy.

And that was it. 

From there began the rest of my life. Life as I know it now. Life as a mother. A fairly okay mother. I think.  Haha, More on my mom-ventures later!