A milestone and a celebration

One thing the youngest child of every family learns to do perfectly is to await her turn. And so it is in the OM household. My third and youngest baby has been waiting patiently for her birthday celebrations.

Obsessivemom turned TEN this month!!

Imagine that!! One whole decade of blogging.

The celebrations are late by a week or so, but with the craziness at home I am just happy I got the month right.
People generally celebrate blogversaries by talking about how the blog has progressed over the years, how the number of followers has grown, the views skyrocketed, the Alexa numbers improved. But I have none of those. I’m not being humble, though I am a humble person, generally. What I am not, is a numbers person – numbers don’t register with me much.
However, what the blog has given me is quite priceless and I’ll say this gladly – it is way beyond numbers.
Over the years I have found I can say things here that I cannot otherwise. And I can say it with a fair amount of clarity and conviction (I still maintain I am a humble person). As I write and read back and edit and write again I find my head clearing up. Why I find it easier to talk to relative strangers while clamming up sometimes even at one-on-ones with friends, I have no idea. Perhaps it is the anonymity that frees me from the fear of being judged. It’s another matter that, over the years, much of the anonymity has vanished and many of you have turned dear friends. For that I can only be grateful.
It has been my conscious decision to keep things as positive as possible here on the blog. People close to me will know that life is way more chaotic than what it seems here, that I am not quite as patient and level headed as I might appear here. The things I laugh at in my posts have often driven me to distraction or even made me break down when I am in the middle of them. And yet the fact that I can laugh at them, that I can make light of my often over-the-top reactions, even if it is later, is what makes life good.
And when you guys drop by here and say ‘it happened to me too’ or ‘my kid did that too’ or  ‘O My God you survived that!’ it does wonders for me.
Then there are days when despite my resolve, the worries spill out here and then when I hear you say ‘it shall be alright’ or ‘you’re doing fine’ or ‘the kids will be okay’ it helps. It helps because I begin to believe it a little bit. And that is where I begin to win – because believing is half the battle won, right?
So thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here. I hope you guys are still there when I’m old and foggy and all I write about is the decadent ways of the new generation,  the cataract bugging my eyes and my most amazing grandchildren.
Linking up Mackenzie at Reflections from Me. She’s decoding true happiness in this post and says true happiness comes from loving yourself. Do drop by and take a read.

And also with Mel at  Microblog Mondays where she talks of goodbyes.
                                               

Ganapati in the city

So Ganapati has gone after ten days of celebration. The blaring loudspeakers are silent.
I was late to the Ganapati party since back home we had no clue what the fuss was all about, other than what we saw in Hindi films and I always thought it was an exaggerated version of the real thing. It was in Pune that I got an up close and personal view of the festival.
The pandals are everywhere but the more revered Ganapatis are found in the old city. A bit ironic isn’t it? That some Ganapatis should be more revered than the others? Some more gracious about granting wishes than others? But then religion is beyond reason.
I try to visit the city at least once during the ten days, not for the blessings, but for the old world charm of the celebrations. No matter how huge the pandals in the scores of apartment complexes across the city, this is different. The buzz is something else and I love everything about it.
I do not find the crowds claustrophobic or the walk daunting. I find the small plastic toys on sale fascinating and the toy sellers even more so. Perhaps it reminds me of the melas of my childhood which were a bit of a forbidden treat or maybe it is my yen for roadside shopping. I do love it all.
This year I was a little reluctant after a friend had her bag cut through and her wallet stolen. The crowds hold all kinds. However I did manage a visit even though half my attention was on my sling bag.
As it turned out the visit was worth every little bit of it. To begin with the flower market is a treat. I loved the masses piled up by roadside. 

And I adore the lotus, perhaps because we don’t get to see them too often and definitely not in such profusion. It’s not much use getting it home because it wilts pretty soon but it does look gorgeous. Doesn’t it?

Check out the long winding columns of devotees. I didn’t venture to queue up but satisfied myself with the glimpse of the God from outside. Loudspeakers were booming out artis and instructions. At one of the temples a gentleman announced, ‘Don’t forget to take selfies with your favourite Ganapati’. 

Talk about keeping up with the times!

Oh and I love this quaint custom of whispering your dearest wish into the ear of the mooshak in the hope that he would conveyed it to Ganapati.

…age is no bar. All you need is to have faith.

#Women at work – The fruit seller

I see her busy at her shop right across the road from our apartment building. She has a small outlet stocked with fresh flower and fruit. Somedays I see her attending customers, somedays she is polishing the fruit with a piece of cloth or arranging them in meticulous piles.

I pass by her shop some half a dozen times a day and she never fails to give me a smile. She knows I love flowers as do the kids. She also knows I prefer gerberas and roses for my vases as against the ones she keeps – marigolds, Indian roses and jasmines which are used more often for religious rituals. And yet when I am buying fruit and she has a specially pretty rose she hands it over to me with a ‘take this for the kids’.
And so H and N here’s a lesson for you – Take pleasure and pride in whatever you do, no matter how small your job, how tiny your business. You don’t need to have a lot of ‘things’ to be generous. All you need is a big heart.
When most shop keepers take a siesta break (a ritual in my city), she doesn’t go home. She sits quietly enjoying her break. Her hands keep busy as she picks out flowers from a basket on her lap and threads out colourful garlands, readying for the evening rush.
Somedays she talks to me. A lot of it is in Marathi but I nod along even though I don’t understand all of it. I ask her why she doesn’t shut shop for the siesta. 
And she says, 
“My husband passed away recently. When he was alive, he was always pestering me. ‘Why are you always at the shop? I need you here at home to serve me lunch. I need you to sit with me while I eat,’ he’d say. 
I’d get annoyed and I’d tell him – the children are there to take care of you. How much can a woman do? I have the shop to look after.
But he would have none of it. We’d have arguments but I did go home each day.” 
I nod along, the feminist in me not quite happy with the story.
She continues, a trifle wistfully,
‘Now he is gone and no one asks me to come home. I have children, son, daughter-in-law but they don’t know if I’ve eaten or not. I’m happiest here at my shop.’
I don’t know what to say. The feminist is a trifle confused and chooses to stay silent.
And here’s lesson number 2. This one is for me: Relationships are complicated. No one relationship is quite like another. It is easy to pass judgement, to give advice but different things work for different people.
I cannot end the post without wishing everyone a very happy Independence Day. And I’m glad I wrote about this lady today. Isn’t she a symbol of Independent India? Of doing her own thing and being at peace with herself?
Despite so much that is not quite right with our country, we do have things to be proud of, things that set us apart, make us special.
Today, I shall focus on all that IS right with my country and it is that which I shall be celebrating.

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!
Linking up with Parul for the #Women at Work bloghop. If you have a story about a working woman do share.

Flaunt your patriotism

It’s Republic Day today. I woke up to the sound of Mere Desh ki Dharti being played somewhere on a loudspeaker. H picked it up and started singing it with the lyrics all wrong. That always irks me – another one of my pet peeves – this thing about music being just beats and no lyrics.
Anyway, in correcting H I ended up explaining the age old song to the kids. And then since I couldn’t remember the whole thing I googled it. The song is definitely dated but the pride of belonging to a wonderful country shines clearly through.

National Holidays used to be big days when we were kids – they still are back home for my parents, who make it a point to go to their alma-maters for flag hoisting. National pride was a big deal. Independence would still have had a new sheen to it, for our parents at least. And we caught the patriotism bug from them.

Somehow along the way, what with work and life, they became ‘just another holiday’ to me – a day to plan a picnic, or sleep in, or tackle that list of unending chores. Is it just me or does it have something to do with changing times? All of it just became uncool. I didn’t stop feeling patriotic, I always did and will always do, but it definitely became uncool to flaunt it.
Then along came the kids and in trying to teach them about India I am relearning too – their enthusiasm is contagious. When they were younger they wanted tricolour balloons and charkhis and tricolour food and tricolour clothes – the whole deal. And I did it all with them.

They’re growing up. N still childlike, revels in all the festivities. H is already reluctant to wear Indian clothes because ‘they are uncomfortable’ yet I persist. Patriotism is much more than clothes, I know, but this one day let’s go all Indian when we sing the National Anthem on Republic Day, I tell him.  So then how can I not ditch my trustee jeans and pull out my orange/green/white salwar kurta too?I do so happily, and I go down for the flag hoisting. I sing the National Anthem aloud, I eat the laddoo with relish and I try to make the day as special as I possibly can. I flaunt my patriotism as much as my self-conscious self will allow. I find I’m getting better at it and I’m liking it too.

I’ll always be grateful to the kids for reawakening National Pride in me.Leaving you now with one of my favourite songs from the film Purab aur Paschim. Manoj Kumar is corny and Saira Banu is downright ludicrous in that blonde wig and with the swirling cigarette smoke, but the song is to die for. It makes me all warm and proud to be an Indian. Do hear out the lyrics.Click here for the song.

Five Tips to Holi-Proof Yourself!

Tomorrow is Holi. 

Either that thought has you jumping out of your chairs, readying your colour and pichkari and deciding your strategy or it has you scrambling to look for a safe place till it’s the day after.

I am a bit of both. Half my friends know the truth – That I’m s*** scared of Holi. The other half think I’m this fearless Holi player just because they see me each year drenched in multicoloured hues. Should the two groups meet, they’d never agree they’re talking about the same person.

This post is for Type 2 people – the ones who desperately look for an invisibility cloak to get through the Holi madness. There’s something about the Holi spirit that imbues the riotous revellers with much too much courage. That very forbidding expression you have – the one that says “I’m way above this juvenile stuff”? Well put it away – it won’t work. Believe me. I’ve tried it.

So what do you do?

If you are the non-social variety you have hope. Find a safe place, preferably on some haunted, desolate, deserted island, horde those gujhiyas and hide away till the day is through. 

However, if your friends are anything like mine they’ll probably be planning to dig you out just as assiduously as you’re planning to hide away. To begin with, dip yourself in colour before you step onto the battle field. Yeah quash the spirit of Adrian Monk and do it yourself because if you don’t, someone else certainly will. Once on the field remember Never let your guard down. Read on now for five valuable tips:

1. Scared? Who? Me? Nah!!
Bluff your way through. Pretend to be all gung ho about the whole thing. Each time the topic comes up chime in enthusiastically, “Yay! It’s Holi” even while your heart gives a lurch at the H word. Put on a careless, daredevil look and throw out a challenge or two. “Hah! This time I’m not letting you get away”. Once you’ve established your credentials and are no longer on the ‘hit list’ slink away quietly through the proverbial ‘patli gali’.

Caution: Don’t overdo the bravado. Steer clear of the biggies (You’ll know them by the mad glean of excitement in their colour crazed eyes). Pick out the scared ones (Oh you’ll smell them out, after all they’re just like you).

2.Get Your Shields in place
If you’re a mum you have a readymade shield – the kids. Deflect the attention to them. Keep an eye out for the assailant AT ALL TIMES. Just as he/she closes in put on your most loving look, position yourself carefully behind your little one and pretend to be engrossed in helping him/her fill out the water gun. (Do not get REALLY engrossed, okay? This is war, you need your wits about you, woman.) A look at that moving montage might for one, gentle out the attackers and two, the kids are craving it all anyway. They loooove the mess – the water, the colour – the dirtier the better. 

Caution: Don’t overestimate your safety. You’re just as safe as an 80 kg person can be behind a 20 kg person. Twins, that way are handy – double protection, you see.

3. Lie and Bribe
Participate in the preliminary round and just when things are hotting up and the dread in your heart starts to rise, put on your most serious expression and say,”I wish I could stay but my kid, is asthamatic. You know na how it is?? I need to go dry him out”. Believe me, no one will stop you. What? That’s a lie. Soooooo? This is war remember? And all’s fair.

Caution: This is a tricky one since it depends on the cooperation of children who at such times never rise to the occasion and might suddenly refuse to go along with you. Keep a bribe handy.

4. The Photographer
Carry an expensive looking camera. “Looking” being the keyword. Or simply whip out your phone and declare yourself the official photographer. Each time an assailant approaches ward him off with, Aww you look lovely… Give me a smile. Watch out for your pictures on facebook.”

Caution: Use a dummy camera/phone. Keep the really expensive ones away from the battle field. The fanatics are not to be trusted.

5. The Foodkeeper
Become the official food supplier. Make sure you go for the preliminary rounds which are often gentler and get yourself suitably coloured, then stand behind the food counter or actively start handing out the samosas, gujhiyas and thandais. Who wants to mess their own food? 

Caution: Make sure you disappear before the food does.

Distract, Deflect and Defend. If nothing works and you’re caught – well then, cross over to the enemy and Drench, Dunk and Douse.

Remember it’s Holi!!!

Bura Na Mano Holi Hai!