Category: letter

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A letter to Lakshmi ji

Dear Lakshmi ji,

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a stay-at-home-mom? A SAHM with a pair of super energetic kids, a super busy husband and a house with a perpetually open door through which umpteen kids stream in an out continuously dripping food and toys?

I don’t think so.

The only kid you’re ever even seen with is your nephew Ganapati, who, with due apologies, is not the really sporty kind. He doesn’t bug you to death to look for his bat or to fish for his ball under the car. He doesn’t hang from curtain rods bringing down pelmets giving you a minor heart attack besides saddling you with the task of carpenter hunting.

You’ve never had to sit with him over his milk and vegetables appearing to be patient while your mind buzzes with the thousand tasks awaiting your attention. Give him his plate of modaks and laddoos and you can get on which your chores (which aren’t really too many).

And no, you’ve never needed to mess your hands making those laddoos either, what with the millions struggling to get into your good books. They load you with enough food to sate even the six heads of your other nephew Kartikeya.

Then there’s The Husband. Yours is supposed to take care of the world so he’d hardly need looking after. He’s not diabetic. He doesn’t need to be pushed to go for his daily walk or watched with a hawk eye lest he empty the mithai box. All you need to do is provide him with your sweet company.. which wouldn’t be so tough given your stress-free life.

As for the cleaning … how much cleaning would one need when one lives on a snake in the middle of the ocean?

So then…

What right do you have to go looking for the cleanest, prettiest houses with beautifully done up tables piled with homemade goodies each Diwali?

For a change… just this once, don’t let that barbie littered doorway scare you away. What? You see no one praying? Hey they’re too excited to sit quietly with folded hands. They’d rather sing and dance.. they’re expecting you, don’t worry.. do walk in. Step around the dolls, Oh and mind those cars –  they might trip you, Oops sorry! did you mess your sari? Those diyas are being painted to welcome you. Don’t mind that sink full of vessels.. that food was made in your honour.

Don’t look at the dust on the shelves, look at the smiling faces in the frames on them. Don’t look for the most scintillating fireworks, look for the happiest face behind the smallest sparkler. Don’t look for the fanciest lights, look for the attention and care with which those diyas were painted. Don’t look at that crooked rangoli look at the thrill on the girl’s face, it’s her first.

Rather than the cleanest, prettiest and most peaceful houses, how about looking for the noisiest, cosiest and happiest homes? Try it this Diwali. You might find them more fun than the squeaky clean ones.

Warm regards

Obsessivemom

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Back home

Dear blog,

Last we met I was packing my bags for Dehradun about a month ago. Yes I understand your concern at my long absence. No, I haven’t been in Dehradun all these days. I do understand how lost you would have felt with no one to look after you and get you your dose of posts. Now don’t be dramatic, you really weren’t in danger of imminent death.
Come on you know how it is in May and June.. what with the holidays, the reunions, the shopping, school reopening and the kids’ birthday I really did have my plate full. Those are NOT plain excuses. Give me a break. No, I wasn’t just shopping and chatting all the while. Even if I were, I’m in my city with my family just this one month each year. Yes of course you are family too but I really have been busy. Come on you know you’re important to me. Now stop sulking. Really, The Husband bears my absence so much better than you. What? He couldn’t have been celebrating. That’s a mean thing to say.
Will you stop smirking !!
Yes… well I’m sorry too. And I promise to you more posts… plenty of them. Thanks for being there. Muah!

Love
OM

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Letter to God

Dear God,

Why oh why did you make chaniya cholis? It would have been just one tiny thing less among your myriad miraculous creations. Do you realise what havoc you’ve caused in our household? Every birthday, every visit to the mall, to a friend’s place, to a colleague’s dinner party or sometimes even to the play ground or at home I dread that question from my daughter, ‘May I wear my chaniya choli?’

Oh ho so you’re asking why don’t I  just let her? Well, imagine how she’d climb the slide in all her finery.. or how she’d kick the ball, or skip rope or how incongruous she would look if she walked into a Mc Donalds in her wedding glory… ???? Besides what would she wear when she had a real wedding to go to if she wore out everything in the playground?

Okay granted we do need chaniya cholis for weddings and suchlike but then why did you give my daughter this craving? In times of barely there hot shorts and bum-exposing microminis why should she hanker after ‘clothes that reach my toes’ (Her words not mine).

Did you see the huge scene we had yesterday? Did you see how she cried because she wanted to wear a chaniya choli at home? In my frustration and anger I told her if she continued to cry I’d get rid of each and every one of them. And then she raised her tear streaked face to me, sobbing heart-breakingly and asked, ‘Will I never ever look pretty again?’

Tell me what I should have done then? Would a lecture on the frivolity of clothes been of any use? Did I do the right thing in suspending my anger to give her a tight hug and tell her she is pretty no matter what she wore? And did you see the doubt written all over her sweet little face as she looked on unbelievingly — Could anyone really look pretty in shorts?

It’s all your fault, really. Why did you make clothes at all? Weren’t we managing fine with those fig leaves and tree barks? And if it got a tad too cold.. Well why should it get too cold? You’re God aren’t you? You could take care of that with the snap of a finger.

Imagine how many resources we would save..

— no more valuable manhours (or woman hours, for that matter) lost in contemplation of ‘what should I wear?’, or ‘Did I get it right?’
— no more garment stores taking up precious space
— no more valuable print space lost in telling us what to wear
— no more moral police telling us what not to wear
— no more mindless fashion weeks
— no more sartorial red-carpet gossip and more importantly
— no more people getting judged by what they wear

Oh I could go on and on. Do you realise this could be the way to a better world? Do something God and soon please before I lose my daughter to the inconsequential world of clothes and fashion.

Yours truly
Very Worried Mama

PS: I decided to let her have her way hoping she’d find out on her own how uncomfortable those clothes were. It was I, however, who was proved wrong. She wore it till evening. coming to me every few minutes with statements like, “Look mama I can skip rope in this dress.” and “look mama I’ve not messed it up.”

 

At work

 

After a long heart to heart I finally managed to convince her to change when it was time to go to the playground. Thank you God for small mercies.
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This one’s for India

 

Dear H and N,

We were early at the bus stop today and I was struggling to while away time with the two of you as you ran around bubbling with your early morning energy. Then along came Tanu with his Dadu. He takes his bus from the same stop as you and over time has turned into a friend. He joined in the ruckus till his Dadu suggested, “Let’s sing songs while we wait for the bus”.
Tanu went first and he sang ‘I salute the flag’ then launched into ‘Chhodo kal ki baatein’. “I am preparing for tomorrow’s Republic Day function,” he explained. As his Dadu took all your little hands in his large ones and explained to each of you the right way to salute I looked on filled with guilt and regret.
Yes, tomorrow is Republic Day. However, you think it’s just another holiday. I am so sorry darlings I forgot to tell you that tomorrow is no ordinary holiday. I could of course blame it on the relief of not having to wake up early to a super chaotic morning or the excitement of having Daddy home all day (he’s been working the last two weekends and we’ve barely glimpsed him all this while). But I won’t. I will make a promise, however, of telling you about the wonderful country you were fortunate to be born in…
— a country where you can light fireworks at Diwali, tuck into seviyans on Eid and and get gifts for Christmas – a triple whammy
— a country where you, Zaheen, Jennifer and Gunraj can share tiffins at school without a thought
— a country where mama can wear what she wants, go where she wants.
— a country where you can say exactly what you want because everyone, yes everyone, is allowed to have their say
— a country that that gives both of you equal freedom and equal rights
And when you grow up ours is a country that gives you the power to make it what you want. That’s a huge power and a huge responsibility. Use it well when you have it.
Tomorrow is special. It is our country’s real birthday and we shall celebrate it in style.
Meanwhile listen to this, our National Anthem. I get goose bumps and misty eyes when I hear it. I hope in time you too will learn to look beyond it’s melody and will stand up in pride and love to salute your country just like Tanu’s Dadu taught you.
Love
Mama

 

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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
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