Tulika, Author at Obsessivemom

19/10/201009/09/2024

She’s special

Dear N,

I’ve written to your brother earlier but never thought of writing to you. You seem so self sufficient, so self assured, so responsible and grown up already that I never thought you needed advice. But I’m a mama you see, and offering advice is second nature to our tribe so bear with me.. this time and all other times as you grow up.

Do you know it was papa who picked your name for you? Among other things it means ‘someone special’. And you really are. Of course you are special to mama and papa, all children are.. but you are special in a very SPECIAL way.

I don’t think you need me to tell you that, you hear it all the time. You may not be the prettiest girl around nor the most talented.. yet there’s something about you. Your teachers, your friends, their moms, the didi’s and the dadis of the society, the watchmen, the uncles and the aunties.. and sometimes even total strangers on the road seem to have something to say to you. I love it that you’re secure in the knowledge that you are everyone’s favourite.

However along with all this affection comes responsibility. People expect much much more from you. Have you noticed? If a child is feeling left out or alone it’s you his/her mother calls for help? And to your credit you ALWAYS listen and run to help and include the loner. If you happen to get into a disagreement it’s you who are asked to ‘understand’ and back out. It’s a tough deal but you handle it with aplomb. I am so proud.

Oh you’re a smart girl, I know, but sometimes mama-wisdom can help so here goes.

Be your own person.. don’t try to please everyone. It’s impossible to do that, not to say exceedingly exhausting. Trust your mama on this one baby, she’s been there. Don’t depend on others’ approval for your happiness. Don’t evaluate yourself by others’ parameters. Have your own. It’s more important to BE good than to be thought good.

Keep an active conscience.. it pays to have one. Life might seem easier in its absence but believe me it actually gets more complicated. Honesty, you will see, IS the best policy. So do your own homework, don’t expect mama to chip in even if the teacher never gets to know.

Don’t expect too much from yourself. It’s not important to be THE best.. it’s important to give YOUR best. I remember the time you went for a fancy dress competition, you were just two years old. You got tongue tied on the stage and then couldn’t forgive yourself for the longest time because you couldn’t give your best. Don’t be hard on yourself baby.. leave that to the others.

Focus. When you take up something stick with it. You’re a busy girl I know. There are many many things to be done, places to be explored, activities to be taken up .. but do finish what you start or else you’ll get nowhere.

Look beyond the external. Beautiful is NOT always good. And while on looks — clothes are not the end of the world.. oh well you are a girl after all, I’ll let you have that one.

More later

Love and hugs

Mama

17/10/201015/04/2017

The men are fighting

The men of the house got into a scuffle today – the father and the son. Who was at fault? Read on and decide.

The son was in high spirits what with Nanu and Nani ma spoiling him silly and was showing off his skill with his favourite toy, the gada. Enter the daddy.. a tad sleepy considering he got home at 3 am and hence not in the best of humours. One swipe of the brave gada and daddy’s specs came flying down.. the lenses and the frames sailed to two different corners of the room. The eyes, spared mercifully.

Happy to help

Predictably the daddy lost it. The erring gada was promptly confiscated and consigned to the loft. That was of course sacrilege. If you have been a brave and patient reader of this blog you’ll know what the gada means to the son. It’s his weakness and his strength. He has it by his side when he’s eating, sleeping or watching television. Each time we go visiting we have a tussle because he wants to carry it with him. A few days back he wanted to take it down when he went to play the dandiya.

All hell broke lose. I sprinted to the spot to mediate, which I did quite well. Within ten minutes the son was persuaded to tender an apology. The father accepted (after 20 minutes because he was at his phone, as usual).

The daughter, who has perhaps been the worst hit by her brother, literally and figuratively, then persuaded the daddy to return the gada to her heartbroken sibling. She sure can twist the big man round her little finger. Up she went on daddy’s head and got down the precious gada. Some wars are easier won by love than anger. Hrit that’s a lesson for you from your sister.

13/10/201015/04/2017

Dandiya 2010

Dandiya night in the society and Hrit Naisha were bubbling with enthusiasm. Time again for chaniya cholis, dandiyas, dressing up and dancing.. recipe for a great night.

For once I was relaxed and just as excited. To begin with their clothes were taken care of. A good friend sent awesome dresses straight from Gujju land. Thanks Apoorva. That rid me of the bother of putting together their wardrobe. What’s better he also got them super cute accessories and dandiyas. I was let off scott free. Yayyy!

He actually wanted to take the gada down… managed to dissuade him.

How she loves dressing up

With the spoils of the evening

Reason number 2 for rejoicing.. I’d learnt a few dance moves.. few meaning about two.. but that was enough. All the past years I was getting by without any, this was a windfall. We were set. Then someone asked “What are you wearing?” Eeeeeks? Hadn’t thought about that at all. But no worries….just rustled up some junk jewellery and I was done.

Well we all dressed up for D day. Unlike Bombay where we got to groove all nine days here in Pune we just had one day and we were ready to make the most of it.

The programme was scheduled to start at 7pm with an hour of Tambola, then dancing. Tambola on a dandiya night??? Incongruous to say the least, from a Mumbaikar’s point of view. But since I’m not really one.. anything goes.

By the way tambola was never my favourite sport. Now with kids specially, I don’t see myself concentrating on middle line and full house with two restless kids laced with weapons (read dandiyas) creating havoc all around. So we decided to go down by 8.

When we did go down we were met with pin drop silence. About a hundred people sat sedately pens/pencils poised crossing out numbers as a ‘DJ’ did the announcing. Quite undandiya like, I thought.

I was at a loss how to rein in the kids. Hrit was cartwheeling with sheer energy and excitement while Naisha was flitting around holding up her lehenga in the most ladylike fashion.

They charged right into the tambola scene along with a friend creating such a ruckus that they made the veterans miss a number or two. Of course they were shooed away and had to play in the lobby while we waited. When the music finally started they were the first ones on the dance floor.

Now no event can be complete without at least one of the twins doing something outrageous. The prize for the best dressed boy went to their best friend. Hrit still doesn’t understand the concept of one person getting a prize and the others being left out. He asked me ‘Where’s my gift?’ I shushed him quickly. When he realized I was not going to help he decided to take matters in his own hands. He marched up to the podium, saw a gift kept there and walked away with it! Of course I made him take it back. Twice. Then the organizers gave up. “Let him have it.. anyway this was also for the best dressed boy,” they said. And I wished the earth would swallow me up. Hrit of course was thrilled.

After about an hour the garba music gave way to good old Bollywood. Punjab completely took over Gujarat. The kids sure had a ball.

Then at dinner time Hrit spilled gulab jamun syrup on him and I caught him just in time trying to pour a glassful of water inside his dhoti to ‘clean up the mess.’

That was it. It’s bye bye garba night till next year. Hope we’re back in Mumbai then.

12/10/201015/04/2017

Mama vs Mama

This post is dedicated to my dear cousin brother. Every few days Hrit gets this huge doubt, “Mama is Bobby Mama a boy or a girl?” (Sorry about that Bobby) I presume I must have been preoccupied each time he posed the query. I brushed off his question with a.. “Of course he’s a boy.” or, “Boy, boy.. now finish your roti.” or even “He’s a boy baba.. now no more talking.. close your eyes and sleep.” However, the query kept coming on and on. I was rather puzzled because it wasn’t like he hadn’t met my cousin. In fact they got along pretty well. So I asked, “Why do you keep asking Hrit?” He replied finally, “If he’s a boy how can he be a ‘mama’? He should be a papa, isn’t it?” Hmmm that explains it all.

12/10/201015/04/2017

Time travel tag

This Tag/idea came to me from Sweta, it is originally written by Emily Barton.

Here’s how you do it…

Emily’s Rules
1. Depending on your age, go back 10, 15, 20, or even more years.
2. Tell us how many years back you have travelled and why.
3. Pretend you have met yourself during that era, and tell us where you are.
4. You only have one “date” with this former self.
5. Answer these questions.

Okay, as we start, what year is it and how old are you?
It is Oct 1990. I’m 22 years old. I am going back 20 years as everything else seems too recent. 🙂 I am in my last year of graduation struggling with my Physics and Geology.

1. Would your younger self (YYS, from here) recognize you when you first meet?
Oh yes she sure would. I am the same old plump me – the one thing that’s remained unchanged over the years give or take a few kgs. The hair might be a bit shorter now and I might have learnt to carry myself a tad more confidently otherwise I’m pretty much the same.

2. Would YYS be surprised to discover what you are doing job wise?
Completely. On the career front YYS is totally confused and a bit dejected. She has only recently given up Engineering aspirations after putting in what she considered her best and failing to make it to any Engineering College. She is now debating between a PG in Management, a career in teaching like our parents or maybe a career in Geology. Journalism is just not her. It doesn’t exist even in her dreams.

3. What piece of fashion advice would you give YYS?
Fashion advice… ummm.. that’s something I’m still a bit deficient in. All I’ll say is look for comfort. Don’t follow trends. And for godsake get a haircut.. scanty hair worn long does absolutely nothing for you.

4. What do you think YYS is most going to want to know?
Will I clear my graduation? She’s not really a bad student but each year she thinks she’ll flunk .. specially post the Engineering debacle.

5. How would you answer YYS’s question?
Yes you will. Have faith in yourself. Besides, it really doesn’t matter.. 20 years later no one bothers how you scored.

6. What would probably be the best thing to tell YYS?
You’ll get to go on foreign cruises and visit some wonderful countries.

7. What is something that you probably wouldn’t tell YYS?
What’s it like to go through a gynaecological examination… ugh..ugh..ugh.

8. What do you think will most surprise YYS about you?
That she’d be a mom … tough to imagine …to twins.. hah.. completely inconceivable, no family history at all. She’s really not into kids and can’t see what’s the ‘they’re-so-cute’ hoo haa about. That she’d completely fall in love with kids.. not just her own but the entire tribe.. unthinkable.

9. What do you think will least surprise YYS?
That I’m still fighting to remain fit. Diet, gym.. the whole thing.

10. At this point in your life, would YYS like to run into “you” from the future?
Sure. She’d love being me.

Thanks Sweta.. that was fun. Leave a comment guys and take up the tag.