Glory be Thine Karna !

For mine golden armor

Indra pleaded

And the much envied hoops

For once let me triumph

Take it O’ barefaced Deva

Let me peel off my taut skin

Do not fear the dripping blood

My heart was bleeding since I was born

Restless and agitated,

I always was!

Caged  lion, confined grandeur

A sense of non - belonging

My sole existence.

When she uttered

“You are my son”

I stood still

Out of pity and rage

But do not think O’ Queen,

That you caught me unaware

Karna knows his valor

That he is not of a humble breed

Who else could have borne me?

But the Divine mother of the glorious five!

Despite my swollen pride

Obliged I am to many

Humiliated by several

Grudges sore my heart!

Ehem!

Wrapped in illegitimacy

She cradled me over the river

Shaded by the Mighty Sun

Alas! Disowned Karna!

Oh Arjuna, live on my shed scales

And ask your mother

Who I was to you

And who she was to me

She carried you for bare nine months

But me she carried for a life time

In her heart and breath

She burnt for me

She loved me, more

More than all you five!

Take these, Mother Queen

My blood spilled armor

Scraped off my flesh

My torn off earlobes

The hoops did twinge

But not as much

As you wounded me

I cannot, but love you my Mother!

Some DNA Talk

Are the children these days unusually swift at growing and perceiving stuff, which the parents claim to have not known, when they were of the same age?

I have always heard men and women lament about the way the children KNOW THINGS! And I wonder at times, are not these lamenting another way of absolving oneself of the ‘dirty’ OMG content, at their proper ages.

We would naturally feel surprised seeing a two year old on the touchpad. The gadgets we came across during our teens or twenties are like rattle or teether to the toddlers. Each generation is definitely smarter than the previous, is what I have heard. But I really don’t know, and I wonder how it can be so. Are these kids really more intelligent than their parents and grandparents or is it just that having access to gadgets brings in that familiarity element enabling them to use all of these with a natural fling?

So so so , if a kid speaks about a crush/kiss or talks without delicacy about such ‘forbidden matter’, why do the parents/elders panic as if they had seen a Frankenstein! Did we not think of all these when we were their age? I think we all knew imperfectly though, about all these and we had had that same curiosity, that same feeling in us. But we were less open, and more of pretenses. We seldom got a chance to be so open, because our parents were different too. It is a happy way the parents let the children be their friends and listen to their titter tatter a lot.

My son who is in standard one, told me that his friend likes two three girls and how one little girl got envious when this little prince charming danced with the other cindrella. He told me “Amma, these girls are like the South Poles which repel and Raja is their North Pole”. I was super glad at his use of magnets know how, for drawing similes and joined in the laughter. In between that curious mom in me, asked casually, “Monu, which girl do you like (at age seven)?” He replied sweetly, “I like only one, My Teacher”. Oops! Great! Yes, he is innocent! Gosh! Its Okay, I inhaled deep and rolled with him again tickling him.

By the way, he asked me, “Amma, how your DNA joined with Acha’s ?” EEEEK! What do I tell a seven year old, about fertilization and zygote and how Acha’s and Amma’s DNAs ‘join’. I put it on God. He said that’s fine, “but still how God could join them, they are inside your cells, na?”. I replied that he would learn all that in high school. I pleaded memory lapse about my science lessons, promised to read and refresh my memory and tell him later. When will that later come again, I am keeping my fingers crossed!


On an after thought:
My biology teacher in 10th std, was explaining that a hen's unfertilized eggs would not hatch.. She said - if suppose in your house there is a hen , but no cock, then..... I interrupted: Teacher what if my neighbour has one? 
There is a saying in Malayalam: "Mathan Kuthiyaal Kumbalam Mulaykkumo", meaning , if you plant pumpkin will ash gourd germinate?"

Christmas Tree

This cold evening as I sat on the old fashioned wooden chair in the balcony, stretching my feet on the railings, my mind was heavy, not of pain or sadness or disappointment, not of any depression or hormonal change.. but of thoughts scattered in my mind - sweet and nostalgic, hard facts and dreams ahead. As I looked at the decorated and well illuminated Christmas tree across the street, I thought of myself as one, each twirled leaf weaved by the year gone by. If I am to be illuminated and kept on the side wall, how would I look like? More of thorns or glittering balls?  Let me spin my leaves… stray thoughts!

I had lost myself in the virtual world for many months, with lucid intervals of ‘soberness’. But I am not sure whether I lived as myself more in the intervals or in the net plunge.  

My professional flashcard would not shine much in this last year, I was lazy and non innovative. So those leaves had no glitters on.

Blogging helped me decipher myself with clarity and release the pent up fury and cleanse away the grudges I held. It helped me see life as a sequence of facts, which can as simply be spelt out as it could be. I found a few lovely bloggers whom I read with wonder and admiration, met my twin, a handful of good friends, and I fell in love. My tree is definitely glowing.

 My motherhood wasn’t that illuminating through out the year, as I allowed my son to be in his own world, just so that I could be in mine. But the chilly breeze of December made us draw close to each other for the warmth and laughter we share in private. We sit on the kitchen floor these days and I feed him warm rice and ghee, with dal and bhindi fry, every ball of rice followed by a huge bite of a fried pappad. He tells me about his ‘inventions’ and I listen not understanding a word many times, but encouraging all the while. And he runs to me, hugs me around my waist and gives me a kiss. During his cartoon ad break he climbs on me under the blanket, in the afternoons. I have a hard time hiding my phone under the pillow. Well my tree is not that bad.. I am living!

Now now .. comes the hardest part.. my wifehood. I survived well, I should say he survived quite well with my hours online, hurriedly cooked food, stuffed cupboard (he started keeping his own), bad punctuality, un-blued handkerchiefs… He has really become immune to me now. All goes fine as long as we have that little intimacy at least few times a month. But this weather has made me too lazy for that too. I bluntly told him this night when he caressed me that ‘I think I am growing old, I don’t feel anything these days’. He replied, ‘it is just because you are preoccupied and wanting to rush to your lap top’. I used my reasoning skills to establish that unless I am loved without sexual urge, caressed, hugged and kissed – all with no sexual desire, sweet names be called during broad day light, I will not feel the desire. All of these would have worked, but for my escapade back to my study followed by his putting on the tv. I went sheepishly next to him and he just murmured something a bit angrily, switched off the tv and went to bed. Me back to my desk. But why should a man feel angry just for lack of sex. I have never been so silly in my life. But would these leaves shine of mine, or are they thorns?

Let me sleep!

I am falling into a slumber, when so many voices are calling me from all sides, the bonds and promises, duties of work as a topping. I am just getting bored of everything and everything.. As it is, I am quite short of formalities and courtesies, and if I give up the remnant traces too, what would I be branded as.. Rude? Proud? I am’nt both, I am just lazy, I would just want to float dreamily lazily wherever mind takes me off. Is it that my soul awoke from its siesta, that it wants to arrest all other movements in me and inhale and exhale ..deep..and quiet?

And I am losing my temper very fast, that too quite unreasonably , probably with my son. I know I should’nt be throwing tantrums on him and not hurt his young mind.. but I’ve behaved like an irresponsible mother, threatening him that I may leave him and go, if I am not given peace. He stared at me like that.. oh that look kills me now, when I think of it.. my poor child.. I shouldn’t have hurt him.. In his later years will he remember his Amma’s face trembling with anger , looking insane and screaming at him? Just like how I recollect many of my childhood instances, which I’ve kept locked away in that famous chamber of my heart.

I had been the epitome of patience with my husband, only according to me. But that has also crumbled. For I shouted at him for matters which I used to just ignore and pass by without the slightest of hurt. Is it that I was detached then so much that nothing invited my vibrant emotions? Or could it be that I am going through some mid life crisis as they call it? Is mid thirties mid life?

He told me last night with sadness in his wet eyes that I may leave him for a better person, if I wish so. Was I that evident .. shame on me! Is there anything like a ‘better person’ after all.. what I don’t have may seem better for me now, and once I have it, I may wander again like a lost soul.

What am I upto, why cant I be content with the reasonable pay I get, the secure marital status and motherhood, my bank locker, parental support and lovable siblings, good work atmosphere and what not. Why burn the soul and let it roam in search of  cradles from the sky, the solace of snowcapped mountains, silence blending with sadness, like the sky before it rains, an expectant soul wanting to give birth..

 Yet I am restless, or may be I need rest now from all these bonds and obligations. Let me unfetter.. Let me sleep.. I promise I will wake up and wear all those robes again and play the roles well enough..  I am closing my ears with both my hands.. voices penetrate still… Let me be!  let me sleep! 

From the archives – My writings to myself – about motherhood, wife-hood , in love, about marriage and more – I

Just discovered these and posting it on instinct

Joys of motherhood:

  

One Monday night , 11.30

Now I was laughing with my chottu for more than an hour. He s a real ‘cartoon’. Thank God, he seem to have the right amount of common sense mixed with the right proportion of humour sense. I tell him a lot of stories and after a while he starts acting out the main roles in the story. Today looked like his Krishna day, he is calling me 'Yasodha Amma' and is "stealing" butter (and even jam) from the fridge (modern Krishna) eating it and asking me to chase and catch him. Then he would drink milk from the cow(guess whom he makes his cow) and lots more of masthi. We were laughing so much in the bed and then Big Master would remind us about the time. I told him that we are ordinary humans who don't care to see the clock to laugh and cry. He got bugged and pretended to sleep. Then chottu started imitating how his daddy will snore and we started rolling in the bed covering our faces with pillows and laughing into it. Finally a big blast of laughter followed by comments from the father like "both amma and son had gone out of mind" etc. Finally chottu went to sleep and I woke up the father to tell him that I m going out to read. He just stretched his hand to hug me and I also waited for a while. Suddenly smally came crawling, pushed his father away, and told me that he will bite Achan, if he tries to touch me and we started our laughter again. Father was fed up with the entire session and decided to sleep again. Now that my monu dear has slept, I strolled out to scribble the fun. That was one of my happy times.

Another  Tuesday morning.

Small Boss refused to go to school and I also felt bad to sent him when I am available for him. We had a joyful time playing and story telling. I started telling him the childhood stories of 'Naren', Vivekananda and he is familiar now with the name.

----------------------------------------------------------

Infatuation

This afternoon, I was reading …. Narendranath Datha, the one and only Vivekananda, my admiration figure. How much I admire this man…. I had even prayed that I get a   son like Vivekananda. I had stayed in Hyderabad for 6 months, when my brother had an accident and he was hospitalized in NIMS, where there was a junior doctor. who looked so much like Vivekanada, who also carried a Bhagavat Gita in his coat pocket… I confess that I got so fascinated with this man(with whom I've never talked, and he might not have even noticed me, a girl of 21 at that time) that I used to wait for him to visit our room, had dreamt about him and even made silent phone calls to him to hear his voice.

Whispers in love

Let me tell you very honestly, given a chance I will definitely kiss your eyes and touch them softly so that I will remember them very well any time I want to. I love u because u look at me and look into my soul. Because you can make  me laugh even when u r not next to me. Because u are my Krishna.. …………            

Only if you can imagine the eternal, non ending, non failing and the purest love one can have towards Krishna, you can understand my love for u….


Loving in my each breath, that s what I m doing now my rascal. Have I ever loved any one so blindly, so meaningfully, so madly, so joyfully, so unconditionally, so childishly and yet so painfully? Positive, the earth is ours, the sky too….

(there is a Part II - dont want to tax the readers!)

My traverses during story times

When I run out of bedtime stories for my son, I make up stories, or tell him about old times, ‘When Amma was a little girl’.. Off late, he is opting for the third category and I take it as a chance to take a meditating plunge into the pit folds of memory.

I told him what all I saw in my Appappan’s house, the steps and the sidewalls which led to the frontdoor, the   wide branched tamarind tree I saw through the small wooden window, the red coconut tree through Appappan’s bedroom door, Achamma’s pan chest holding tender pan leaves, perfumed chunnambu, powdered areca nut and the blackish wet tobacco sticks(which I never liked) and much more.

To my surprise the pictures were so vivid in my mind, as if from a reel, it unrolls and within my closed eyes..the scenes flash, and I voice it out for my son to see the unseen and make memories too..

I walked all over the house, amidst the rubber and cashew trees, ate the red aamla from the tree, checked the kitchen shelf for goodies, smelt the oil from achamma’s hair, saw the tiny brass box in which Appappan keeps his sindoor which he would wear like a round bindi on his forehead every day after bath, the small faded mirror through which I made myself pretty, achamma’s pujaroom with her Kannan all decorated with red petals dipped in sandal paste. I took the flute in my hands and slowly put it to my lips and savoured the bit of  jaggery from the Prasad glued to it and wondered if Kannan had played the flute after eating the Prasad achamma offered…

 I dipped my hand in the huge mud pot to take out the full mangoes dipped in salt water, and licked my hand up my elbow to stop the salt water from dripping down.. I ran through the rain to cross the open courtyard which separates the main wing of the house from the kitchen side.. played pebbles on the rough cement floor, touched the lamp wicks and inhaled the kerosene smell..

I told my son all of these.. and we fell asleep

On Pause..

This summer afternoon when I came back from work, got to see . no power. I was all sweat and more of frustration for all that stood still at home. Not bothering to change or have lunch, I just rested full length on the floor, after keeping all windows and doors open. Heat takes away the heat... I had such a lovely nap.. no pillow, no bed, no fan, no ac, no tv, no internet, no mobile (battery was discharged).. all me and my son next to me playing joyfully with toys, for his Pogo was off too. 

When I woke up, we decided to play chess,and many other games. I felt no restlessness as nothing held me back. . we decided to sit out in the balcony and chat, we saw the jackfruit, the chikku tree fully fruited and charming.. and lot many details which we had left unnoticed.

Life has come to a standstill when the power failed.. at least that was what I had thought.. The electric maintenance work was over and marked the turning of the fans, beep of the other gadgets.. My son rushed to his Chotta Bheem, and me online to check on my fb and the like..

Our life had now come to a halt.. we were living for the past 3 hours!

ഒരു പല്ലും ചില വീട്ടുകാര്യങ്ങളും..

രണ്ടു ദിവസമായി ആദി പറയുന്നു അവന്റെ ഒരു പല്ലിനു ഒരു ആട്ടം എന്ന്. ആദ്യത്തെ പല്ലാണ് .. പോകാന്‍ വേണ്ടി ആടുന്നത്. എനിക്ക് ഒരു രസം ഒക്കെ തോന്നി. കളിയാക്കിയാല്‍ അവന്‍ ജിന്ന്‍ കൂടിയത് പോലെയാകും. അത് കൊണ്ട് മെല്ലെ ചോദിച്ചു, മോനു പല്ല് പോയാല്‍ പിന്നെ എന്താ? അവന്റെ ഉടനെയുള്ള ഉത്തരം : " അത് ഞാന്‍ pillow യുടെ അടിയില്‍ വെയ്ക്കും. അപ്പോള്‍ അടുത്ത ദിവസം എനിക്കൊരു gold coin കിട്ടും". അവന്റെ എല്ലാ സ്വപ്നങ്ങള്‍ക്കും ഞാന്‍ കുട പിടിക്കാറുണ്ട്.. ഇതിനും അതേയ്..ഞങ്ങള്‍ രണ്ടും ആ gold coin സ്വപ്നം കണ്ടു .. അതിനെ കുറിച്ച് ആധികാരികമായി ചര്‍ച്ച ചെയ്തു.. കൂലംകഷമായി തന്നെ. ഇതൊക്കെ കണ്ടു രണ്ടിനും വീണ്ടും വട്ടായല്ലോ എന്നാ ഭാവത്തില്‍ വീട്ടിലെ ഗൃഹനാഥന്‍.. ഞങ്ങടെ അച്ഛന്സ്. 

ഇന്നലെ രാത്രി ആദി വീണ്ടും വന്നു പല്ല് പുരാണവും ആയി.. അത് വീണാല്‍ വേദനിക്കുമോ തുടങ്ങിയ കിന്നാരം.. വീണ്ടും   ചര്‍ച്ച ചെയ്തു തളര്‍ന്ന ഞങ്ങള്‍ക്ക് ഒരു കൊതി , ഒന്ന് ചിക്കന്‍ അടിച്ചാലോ.. അച്ഛന്സിനെ പറഞ്ഞു വല്ല വിധവും എണീപ്പിച്ചു രാത്രി അല്‍പ്പം വൈകിയെങ്കിലും ചിക്കന്‍ തിരക്കി യാത്രയായി. പല്ല് പുരപുറത്ത് കളയണം എന്ന വാദം അവന്‍ തട്ടി കളഞ്ഞു. അത് pillow കീഴില്‍ തന്നെ വെയ്ക്കണം അത്രേ. ആലോചിക്കുമ്പോള്‍  വല്ലാതെ.. എന്തേലും  ആവട്ടെ അവന്റെ സ്വപ്നം അല്ലെ, തകര്‍ക്കണ്ട എന്ന് തീരുമാനം ആയി. ചിക്കന്‍ lollipop ചൂട് കൂടുതല്‍ ആണ്. എന്നാലും ഒരു വിധം അവന്‍ കഴിക്കുന്നുണ്ട്. ദാ കിടക്കുന്നു പല്ല് പ്ലേറ്റില്‍. അതിനെ പൊതിഞ്ഞെടുത്തു അച്ഛന്സിനെ ഏല്‍പ്പിച്ചു. എനിക്ക് വയ്യ അത് പിടിക്കാന്‍. വീട്ടിലേയ്ക്ക് തിരിച്ചു വരും വഴിയൊക്കെ ഞാന്‍ അവനോടു പല്ല് ബ്രഷ് ചെയ്യുന്നതിന്റെ മാഹാത്മ്യതേ പറ്റി ഒക്കെ വിസ്തരിച്ചു. വീടെത്തിയാല്‍   ഉടനെ ബ്രഷ് ചെയ്യും എന്ന് അവന്‍ വാക്കും തന്നു.  

വീടെത്തിയപ്പോള്‍ agenda no.1 ആദി പ്രഖ്യാപിച്ചു , അവന്റെ പല്ല് കഴുകി കൊടുക്കണം. ഞാന്‍ സന്തോഷം കൊണ്ട് ഉറക്കം മറന്നു. എന്റെ മോന്‍ അനുസരണ  പഠിച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു. വന്ന ഉടനെ പല്ല് തേയ്ക്കാന്‍ എന്റെ സഹായം ചോദിക്കുന്നു. പെട്ടെന്ന് ബ്രഷ് എടുത്തു പേസ്റ്റ് ഞെക്കി ഞാന്‍ ready.  അപ്പോള്‍ അവന്റെ പുറത്തു പിന്നെയും ആ ജിന്ന്‍ കൂടിയോ. 'you are cheating me' എന്നാ മുടിഞ്ഞ ഇംഗ്ലീഷും. ഒന്നും പിടി കിട്ടാതെ ഞാന്‍ നോക്കി. അവന്‍ തറപ്പിച്ചു പറഞ്ഞു, എന്റെ പല്ല് കഴുകി തരാതെ ഞാന്‍ ബ്രഷ് ചെയ്യില്ല. ഓ അപ്പോള്‍ അതാണ്‌ കാര്യം. അച്ഛന്സിനെ വിളിച്ചു ഏല്‍പ്പിച്ചു ആ കൃത്യം. ഞാനങ്ങു മാറി.. ഒരു instruction ഉം കൊടുത്തു, washbasin ഇല്‍ വെച്ച് കഴുകണ്ട, വീണു പോയേക്കാം. ആര് കേള്‍ക്കാനാ. എന്തായാലും അത് പോയി. അച്ഛന്സ് കുനിഞ്ഞു  നിന്ന് ചിരിക്കുന്നു, മോന്‍ വിതുമ്പി കരയുന്നു.

എന്റെ വക രണ്ടു ഡോസ് അച്ഛന്സിനു കൊടുത്തു മോനെ സമാധിനിപ്പിക്കാന്‍ നോക്കി. ഒരു രക്ഷയുമില്ല. അവന്‍ കൈ തലയില്‍ വെച്ച് എന്റെ പല്ലേ എന്ന് വിളിച്ചു കരച്ചില്‍.അച്ഛന്സ് എന്റെ പള്ളീ എന്നൊരു നോട്ടവും.  കുറ്റബോധം സഹിക്കാന്‍ വയ്യാതെ അച്ഛന്സ് ടൂള്‍ സെറ്റ് ഒക്കെ എടുത്തു പോന്നു wash basin ഇളക്കാന്‍. എനിക്ക് ചിരിക്കണോ കരയണോ എന്നറിയാത്ത അവസ്ഥ. എന്തായാലും ഞാന്‍ ഇടപ്പെട്ടില്ലേല്‍ നാളെ plumber ക്ക് ഒരു ചെക്ക്‌ മാറാം. 

പെട്ടെന്ന് ഇന്റര്‍നെറ്റ്‌  ദൈവം എന്റെ രക്ഷയ്ക്കെത്തി. ആദിയോട് പറഞ്ഞു, നമുക്ക് നെറ്റില്‍ നോക്കാം. പല്ല് കളഞ്ഞു പോയാലും അവന്റെ gold coin കിട്ടുമോ എന്ന്. ഭാഗ്യത്തിന് അവന്‍ സമ്മതിച്ചു. കുറച്ചു ഡെന്റല്‍ സയന്‍സ് , പിന്നെ അവബോധം ഇതൊക്കെയായിരുന്നു എന്റെ ഉദ്ദേശം. അവന്റെ നിര്‍ബന്ധത്തിനു വഴങ്ങി ഞാന്‍ ടൈപ്പ് ചെയ്തു : if your milk tooth falls, will you get a gold coin? ഞാന്‍ ഗൂഗിളിനോട് എന്നും കടപ്പെട്ടിരിക്കുന്നു. ഉത്തരം വന്നു. you will get a gold coin, if you keep the fallen tooth under your pillow. വീണ്ടും വിളി തുടങ്ങി.അവസാനം വേറെ ഒരു ലിങ്ക് കിട്ടി. അതില്‍ പറയുന്നതനുസരിച്ച് പല്ല് പോയാല്‍ മതി.മാലാഖ വന്നു സമ്മാനം തരും. അതൊരു വല്യ ആശ്വാസമായി.അവന്‍ അടങ്ങി. ചിലപ്പോള്‍ നാളെ കിട്ടിയില്ലേലും അടുത്ത് ഞായറാഴ്ചയ്ക്ക് മുമ്പ് കിട്ടുമായിരിക്കും എന്ന് ഞാന്‍ ആത്മഗതം.. ശനിയാഴ്ച്ചയെ  പറ്റൂ ഇനി കടയില്‍ പോകാന്‍ ഒക്കെ. 

എന്നും അച്ഛനെ കെട്ടിപ്പിടിച്ചുറങ്ങുന്ന മോന്‍ തീരുമാനം മാറ്റി. ഇന്ന് അച്ഛന്‍ എന്നെ തൊടാന്‍ പാടില്ല, അമ്മ എന്നെ കേട്ടിപ്പിടിച്ചോ. കിട്ടിയ അവസരം ഞാന്‍ ഒട്ടും കളഞ്ഞില്ല. വിജയിയായി കെട്ടിയോനു ഒരു നോട്ടം വിട്ടിട്ടു ഞാന്‍ ആദിയെയും ഇറുക്കി പിടിച്ചു കിടന്നു. അധികം വൈകിയില്ല, അതിനുള്ളില്‍ അവന്റെ അടുത്ത കമന്റ്‌. അമ്മേടെ ശ്വാസം എന്റെ ചെവിയില്‍ വീഴുന്നു. എന്തിനാ ഈ carbon dioxide എന്റെ ചെവിയില്‍.. അമ്മ നീങ്ങി കിടന്നാ മതി. പല്ലില്ലാത്ത വിടവില്‍ കൂടി കാറ്റ് പോയത് കാരണം dioxide 'diotctcttyyeeede' ആയി. ചിരി അടക്കി ഞാന്‍ കിടന്നു.

രാവിലെ ഒരാള്‍ അഞ്ചു രൂപ coin തിരക്കി നടക്കുന്നു. തിരക്കിനിടയില്‍ ഞാന്‍ ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചില്ല ഈ വട്ടൊക്കെ. മോന്‍ ഉണര്‍ന്നപ്പോള്‍ അമ്മാ എന്നാ നീട്ടിയ ഒരു വിളി. ചെന്നപ്പോള്‍ അവന്‍ ഊട്ടപ്പല്ല് കാട്ടി ചിരിക്കുന്നു.. കിട്ടി അമ്മാ എനിക്ക് gold coin. അത് pillow യ്ക്ക് അടിയില്‍ ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നത്രേ. ഗൂഗിള്‍ ഒക്കെ തെറ്റാണ് അമ്മാ എന്നും വിദ്വാന്റെ ഒരു പറച്ചില്‍. അവനെ കെട്ടിപ്പിടിച്ചു ഒരുമ്മ കൊടുത്തു പോയി ഞാന്‍. അഞ്ചു രൂപ സ്വര്‍ണ നിറത്തില്‍ ഇറക്കിയ ഭാരത സര്‍കാരിനും  RBI  യ്ക്കും  സ്തുതി...

ഇനി അടുത്ത പല്ല് ഞാന്‍ തന്നെ കഴുകി കോളാം എന്നും ആദിമോന്‍ വിഞാപനം ഇറക്കിയിട്ടുണ്ട്! 

How I became Aadi’s Amma

I am so very natural that when I got married I looked forward to becoming a mother. And so one morning when I found a thin pink vertical line on the ‘Preg Card’, I got excited at the new happening in me. All in the family were so delighted that I felt I had achieved something momentous.

But soon afterwards, nausea struck me and fatigue followed with much severity. Day and night I felt the nausea jab, so constant that I could hardly eat anything and survived just on ‘Kanji’ water.I refused to wash my face with soap because the fragrance was awful. My hair was left un shampooed  and I started disliking the closeness of any human next to me because my nostrils got their odour too, which would drive me back to throw up again.

I wanted to fall into a hibernating slumber. Fortunately it was possible for me to sleep to my heart’s content, during the first few weeks, as I am an educator and those days were non – instructional days, blessing me to nap out my pregnancy fatigue.

I found the whole occurrence to be only acute discomfort and distress, and thoughts of the ‘baby’ or ‘motherhood’ or anything ideal of that sort were left behind. I kept on wondering what was happening to me and my body.

But I had a starry thought which caught my bare mind – the being within me is definitely of a brawny identity, and not a make of my shadow, that was why my body was struggling to reject him ( I always thought of the baby as a boy, for no reasons attached)  as a foreign body. All these attacks of queasiness were my body’s resistance mechanism.

And I found yet another reason to rejoice - I was proud that he was strong enough to overpower my body’s initial reluctance to accept him.

As my vacation drew to a close and I found myself going for work, I discovered that my pregnancy was even more painful because the nausea showed no signs of relenting. When my friends and colleagues congratulated me I wondered why. I did not feel any ‘baby’ inside me. I would have taken it all for a severe viral attack, if not for the doctor and the scan reports. I tried to believe that I am with child because the medical reports showed so. 

One fine day, as my pregnancy progressed into the fifth month, and as I was preparing for my lecture, I felt a movement within my stomach. The unaccustomed motion made me stop reading and concentrate on my body. Once again, I felt the same movement, as if air was being pumped from left to right within my lower stomach. And then it hit me…It’s true… there is someone inside me. The feeling started growing inside me and I started smiling even amidst my marathon vomiting sessions.

The movements became more solid and my belly was quite round by the time. By now, my imagination too started growing… How will he look like? Won’t he have all limbs and fingers?

Prayers followed my heart beats. My husband had so thoughtfully stuck pictures of children on our bedroom wall; my eyes now pursued each of them, in an attempt to mix and match features, looks and smiles and what not.

By the seventh month I was very much in terms with him and enjoyed the pampering which my family poured on me, so that it would reach him too.

But there was one person who directly cosseted him, my then eight year old niece, Aami. She would come and touch my stomach and would ask me whether the baby is moving enough. She would call out to him through my tummy. To add to the game I would respond by mimicking the baby. She would even write letters addressed to her brother /sister. She would ask me what he was doing inside and I would pretend as if I was concentrating and would answer as if I could visualize him. This was the most beautiful stage of my entire pregnancy period. With Aami’s assistance I learned to converse with my baby, to be aware of him more and love and await his arrival more than ever.  

By the eighth month, I was becoming anxious, thinking of the delivery and I was impatient too to get the bundle of joy in my hands, on my lap to nurse and caress. Still I wondered… I hardly know him. I have not yet met him and hoped that we would like each other as persons, more than just as mother and son. I realized the great responsibility ahead of me, in moulding a ‘humane’ being, a good citizen and a wonderful person.  

He completed his gestation and was born after a caesarian section. I was under local anesthesia and when the doctor announced the dot time to mark the birth of the baby, my heart skipped many beats. I felt tightness in my chest and requested the doctor to check my ECG, who in turn assured me that every thing was fine and that it was a boy… I could not but rejoice.

The baby was shown to me with all the amniotic fluid and I marveled at God’s greatness. After washing him and wrapping him in a green cloth, he was brought next to my face. I said hello to him, happy at meeting him after the long nine months and a week. They touched his forehead at my cheek and warmth spread through me.

My Aadi has completed six years now and even today I make my cheek touch his forehead and relive the wonderful bliss.  

A Pair Of Shoes

Which mother wouldn’t rejoice at the first toddle of her child! My son had just started walking. He would stand up, balance and move forward with a force.. he would walk till he falls down and would raise his face, look at me and smile. All the pains of childbearing and the first year of motherhood was worthy of that smile. Like how Yasodha saw the universe in her son’s open mouth, any mother would find the world condensed in such smiles of her children.

                    

We bought him a pair of shoes which blinks and makes a squeak whenever his tiny feet would press the earth. He felt encouraged to walk more and would squeak all the time and smile.It was during one such evening that I took him out on the road for a walk. The squeaking was so loud that I felt a bit embarrassed. On the road side I saw those two children outside their small shed house, sitting at the edge of the canal and swinging their feet inside the canal. I had noticed earlier that their mother, Laxmi a tall lean woman, does the domestic top up for many of the houses nearby. I looked at them and continued assisting my toddler who was in full glee at having hit the roads. The younger child aged maybe three and the elder one about seven years got up from their position and came near us. By then I had lifted my son seeing a biker from far. The younger boy touched monu’s squeaky shoes and gave it a couple of squeaks. The elder one pulled him by his hand and led him away. He was turning back and eyeing the yellow shoes with eyes and a beak. I felt guilty all of a sudden for reasons I could not comprehend. I had always felt this guilt.. even as a child when we open our shopping before Nesamma, the woman who worked for my mom at home. I had infact hideously removed the price tags from my Dr. Scholl’s shoes before I place it down at home for fear of feeling guilty if Vimala, the girl who stays with us and take care of the home chores, comes across it. That night I told my husband that the coming weekend we should get a pair of shoes each for those two children.

After a couple of days I saw the children sitting at the same place under the tamarind tree by the canal. This time the younger child was wearing a pair of transparent blue plastic sandals and the elder one was examining them. Seeing me the child with the shoes gave me an innocent happy smile and his brother, bare footed, looked at me with a sense of pride which I saw in his eyes. My heart was filled with a collage of emotions. I smiled at them and kept walking seeing Laxmi’s ever smiling face through the tears which had by then blinded me.