Self-love and other nefarious activities

No, this is not a clickbait headline. Neither is it about touching one self. Which by the way, is something women need to talk about more often.

Nah, this is plain and simple and just about loving yourself, your body in particular.

Today marks almost 6 months since I gave up my high-power job and fantastically amazing life in Bombay to move back to Madras. Slated under ‘personal reasons’, the last six months have given me crazy, stupid, love and a wedding in the pipeline, devastating death of a grandparent, innocent joy of a nephew, intense loneliness arising out of zero to one friend left in Madras to meet, and a slow, slow, journey towards touching my toes.

Today, however, is only about that last point, simply because I fit into a smaller sized kurta after years.

At the 3/3 family functions in the last 3 months, I have been treated to a multiple of opinions ranging from the milder ‘Poosina maari irukke (you look like you’ve been layered)’ to the middle ground ‘you look very different.. you seem to have put on some weight?’ to the downright hardcore ‘you need to do something and lose some weight’.

As someone who grew up skinny and bony, this has been very very hard to hear. More so because my 4-6 years of neglect (save the 5 months I swam one year in Bombay) have been completely my fault. Nobody told me not to exercise, nobody told me not to eat better and to delay meals. All on me.

But here’s the funny part. I realised this a year ago. I attempted different kinds of workouts though none stuck. I tried swimming again. I definitely bettered my eating. The weight didn’t go, and neither did the opinions.

However, the last 2 months have been fantastic. Yoga, swimming and definitely feeling better about myself.

The new kid on the block ever since my engagement has been ‘oh you are working out because you’re getting married ah? wedding prep ah?’.

No. JUST NO.

Time and again there’s the awful notion that these are things that have to be done for an occasion, for someone else, for all reasons except that maybe you realised late and think it’s a good time to start.

I mean sure, I felt shitty when my stomach sticks out or my arms no longer go into kurtas that once fit me. Sure, I didn’t like the folds when I lounged on the Lanka beach in a bikini for the first time.

What I hated more though was the inability to do a simple push up on the surfboard. To bend over wheezing because I ran up a flight of stairs. And to take almost an entire minute to go from sitting to standing while holding my nephew.

So no aunty/uncle/random friend/stranger I’ve met twice in my life- NO. This isn’t wedding prep.

That’s a whole new excel sheet on it’s own, but for now, I’m glad I’m able to touch my ankles and run up a flight of stairs. And all of this, is all still on me.

Me, just me.

 

O-n-e.

04.05.2017, 9:15 pm, Bombay

I am worried. It has been more than 24 hours and you are yet to make your appearance. All I have to keep me sane are the occasional update from Patti and Thatha who are by Amma’s side. Amma, my go-to person when I’m worried, is busy with you. Patiently waiting for you to make your way out. In between all her tension she has remembered to call me, just to tell me that she’s doing alright. 36 hours of labour.. and she thinks to call me because she knows her little sister will be worried sick and anxious.

Partha, meet your Amma.

Amidst all of this you finally made your way out at 9:42pm, on the 4^th of May 2017. Pink-faced, squalling. ‘Star Wars Baby’, they said. ‘My baby!’ I thought. I still remember our first video chat. You gazed unblinkingly at this crazy lady who was grinning wider than the phone screen, while tears rolled down her cheeks. For you, you were the only thing on my mind and in every single prayer, the last 9+ months.

04.05.2018, 9:15 pm, Madras

Today, you are one. And you are still the most important thing on my mind, every single day!

We are at the fag end of your second trip to Madras. The first, when you were three months old as a surprise to meet everyone, especially your Kollu-Patti’s. One of them isn’t here today, but she sure was ecstatic to have spent a month with you back then.

Today, you complete one entire year around the sun. A year spent discovering, learning, growing from a helpless little baby to the almost-toddler that you are today, bursting with spirit, smiles and love for everyone who passes by.

You have learnt to stand, and the minute you do you look around to make sure everyone’s noticed that. You crawl fast across rooms the minute you spot your Thatha. You listen close when Patti tells you stories. And you burst into smiles when Chithi and you break into dramatic dance and swirls.

With you, you have brought hope, joy, love and strength. You give us reason to be kinder, gentler and are a constant reminder to let go of all inhibitions and just be happy and silly because we feel like feeling that way. You brought the luck and courage for me to go out there and meet someone new. (Who’d have thought I’d get engaged to him within the year?)

Today, you have spent 365 (and a quarter) days of delight and wonder. Delight, when you discover new things around you.. Delight when we see you discover. Wonder, when you explore and get excited.. Wonder, for you are our little Wonder.

I still remember something a cousin told me close to a year ago, when you were just going to be born. She said, “Kanna, worry not. A baby can always tell when it’s his mother’s sister. So even if you are miles away, he/she will always know you are someone special”.

What I thought that day was something said just to placate me, today is something I swear by. Be it the way you reach out in a crowd, or leapt into my arms when I made the fishy face when we met after 6 months.. Be it in your familiar smiles and warm, sloppy kisses or the way you lean in for an afternoon nap. Knowing we have that special connection heals any sadness when it comes to distance.

Someday I will tell you, I will tell you of the special relationship of a Chithi and her baby. With stories of your smiles, your naughtiness, your kind disposition, and your gentle innocence. I will try to explain to you how much you mean to me, but that’s something you’ll truly get when someday you have a niece/nephew of your own.

Today, you are one.

And as you gear up to walk and then run,

Always remember how much you are loved,

From across oceans, countries, and roads of mud.

For blessings like you are rare to come by,

So when it comes to telling you we love you, we are rarely shy.

Happy happiest birthday, my first born, my ray of sunshine. Be strong, be happy, be full of love. The world is your oyster, and there is so much to discover!

And don’t forget, Chithi loves you more than you can ever imagine!

Turning One.

Today, you are one.

Like your Amma was the first grandchild in the family, you are the first great-grandchild. First grand-baby for your grandparents and the horde of extended grandparents our family comes with. First baby for your Amma-Appa, and most special and awaited first niece for us.

From the day I learnt of your existence, and continuing even today, you’re a wonder of many firsts. The first time I saw your Amma’s little bump, the first time she excitedly pulled my hand to feel you kicking, the first video call where I met you the day after your birth, the first sleepless night where you promptly slept at 7am in my arms, the first time we did our photoshoot, the list goes on and on.

The greatest wonder that came with you, has been in how you bring a family closer. In the real world, in every time you come home and marvel everyone with your antics, laughter and smiles. In the virtual world where your gaggle of aunts and uncles across the world feel like they’ve been on this year long journey with you.. Your first burps, smiles, sleepless nights, colds, the first time you crawled, the first time you stood up.. You’re a huge piece of glue, along with your little brother too.

So here’s the funny thing, another of these wonders. Two babies has never meant we split the wonder and joy in half. In fact, it’s doubled.

In the last year you’ve instilled a sense of purpose. Be it when I’m always on the lookout for something different I want to get for you, or when I spend hours scrolling through books that I want to introduce you to, or when I see fun arts and crafts that I can’t wait to go nuts with you with- you’ve given a new spin on childhood, to crawling on floors on our fours, to blowing bubbles and making silly faces. More than anything, a purpose to be happy, to spend more time with family and people I love, to give new relationships a chance and to be strong, independent and hardworking. And happy.

While I know the last few months haven’t been as regular (Chithi’s apologies!) not a month went by when I didn’t see you or want to. I still do. No Chennai trip is complete without meeting you. More joy, when I send my folks a text and quietly run over to see you. There is no bigger feeling of peace, healing and contentment that holding a niece and nephew in your arms, and the last 12 months are an exact testament to that.

Today, you are one.

You’ve spent 365 days going around the sun, bringing infinite and unconditional love and joy. 365 days of gurgles, giggles, sweet smiles, dramatic expressions, twinkles and sparkles. 365 days of a little newborn that is today a little person with her own personality.

Her own thinking, her own actions, her own decisions (ragi dosai>ragi kanji, amma!), her own choices and her own quirks and persona.

The days that are to come are going to bring you newer things. More steps forward, more time spent standing up, more discovery, more curiosity, more smiles and more joy.

More wonder, to our little wonder baby girl.

Happy Birthday, my Mish Mash.

Year of the Aunt.

Today, you are 6 months and 19 days old.

While I met you for the first time in August, that month still feels like a blur. I was overwhelmed. By you, by the little human that my sister made. By a brand new relationship. By being together with the family, made so much better with you by our side. And then, just as I started getting used to your little tugs on my blanket, pulling it down at 4am when it was freezing in the AC room, you left.

You know what I remember a lot about that trip? How you didn’t once fuss when I did things wrong. When I took more than 2 minutes to get your diaper right. When I tried putting your arms into your sleeves, TERRIFIED I’d hurt you, and everyone else around sent ‘adults’ to help me, you patiently waited for me to get it right. Didn’t fuss once, nope.

We met again a little over a month ago. By then I was used to you belonging to Akka and Thims. I’d spent the last 2 months facetiming with you in the hopes of you giving me atleast 1/5th of the smiles you give your Patti. Sigh. Wishful thinking, eh?

In any case, I knew the last month would be something special. I didn’t expect how much.

From the minute I landed, 30 hours later than I was meant to, and literally scooped you up and hugged you close, you didn’t flinch. Nope. You knew this crazy lady needed some love after a long flight, and you were happy to tug at her hair and laugh while she held you close.

You’ve become a little person. You have your Thatha’s chin (mine also!). Your Amma’s confidence. Your Appa’s gentle and kind disposition. Your Patti’s enthusiasm and contagious laugh(and that’s just one side of the family). Your eyes twinkle when you see your parents, no matter where they are. Your eyes SPARKLE when you see my glasses. You grin and advance on me, your little arms outstretched…to tug them off. You laugh, when I try the stern-faced ‘NO’. I am no match for that.

You laugh aloud at H Chithi’s dramatic laughter. You are content perched on A Chitappa’s shoulders, looking around from up there. You continuously look at and laugh at N Mama’s ‘brrbbrrrbrxrrrrrrr’ sounds. Doesnt get old, eh? You love playing peekaboo. You know that in exactly 5 seconds I will appear again at the spot I disappeared from, and you wait for that.

You are amused when I’m home alone with you. Funnily enough, your patience hasn’t changed. You rather amusedly watch as I wash you down and change a diaper. You guide me when we work the sweaters by folding your arm in such a way it makes it easier for me to slip it into the sleeves. You let me manipulate you into your rocker. You patiently wait until your paranoid aunt makes sure the milk is the EXACT temperature, and the bottle is rotated exactly right.

Of course you blow a few bubbles to freak me out (knowing exactly that that’s the sound Amma told me meant that I was doing it wrong). Of course.

You ring in my 26th birthday on my lap, both of us in PJs. I’m grinning and holding you tight. Your eyes are solely on the cake. We later go on a walk, just you and me. You’re happy to be out, in your carrier, looking around. I’m busy talking to you, telling you stories. Eventually, you’re fast asleep.

You make things simple. You make the most complicated situations seem easy. You give me reason to be kind, to be happy and to love without limits. You remind me that the little things don’t matter one bit. That an unthreaded face doesn’t matter when there are hugs and kisses to be given. That uncombed hair doesn’t matter because you’ll sink your fingers in it, in 10 seconds anyway. That the only thing that matters is clipped nails, and enough love to pass around.

Today, 4 weeks down, my heart breaks when I see you reach into a screen expecting me to pick you up. My heart also heals and is full, each time you greet me with a broad grin. You give me reason to be silly. To play peekaboo. You know that in exactly 5 seconds I will appear again at the spot I disappeared from, and you wait for that.

I’m full of promises I constantly make to you, but I’m also full of wonder every time I see you.

B Perima and S Mama introduced Amma and me to the concept of the Chinese Zodiac Calendar, when we were kids. I remember how 1991 was the Year of the Sheep. I didn’t quite ever understand what that meant to me, but it was always fascinating. There’s something about being a child and believing in things. That it sticks with you 20 years on, is an entirely new story.

2017, is the year of the Aunt. And for that, I will always have you to tell me why.

 

Starry Starry Night.

Last night I dreamt of the stars.

Velvet black skies, and the outline of hills
The sparkle of city lights, far away.
A gentle nip in the air that gave the occasional shiver
The stars shining incredulously, the mighty Milky Way.

Last night I dreamt of the stars.

Of conversations by the coffee shop with a cup of hot coffee
Of discussions of life, love, religion and all things around us
Of long walks and longer talks
Under those stars, it all seemed effortless.

Last night I dreamt of the stars.

Shooting stars across the skies
That reminded me of deep-hearted friendships now long gone
Twinkling stars not close enough to touch
Oft felt like lost, loved ones who watched down.

Last night I dreamt of the stars.

I dreamt of a home I once lived in
Nestled deep in the hills, a sanctuary of hope, love and discovery
A home that always had room for laughter, friendship and conversations
One that shaped, taught, enveloped me tight and gave me a lifetime of camaraderie

Last night I dreamt of the stars.
Last night, I was home in the hills, again.

Dil-li.

3 years, 2 homes. Each more special than the previous one. If the first was ‘our first home’, the second was the one with the best vibes, the garden, and ample personal space that never made it feel like we were stepping on each other toes.

A lot, LOT has been written about the homes we made in the city of Bombay. A city that frustrates, drives you up the wall, challenges, but also empowers you when you make it happen.

A little has been said about the cities we came from, and the people that we are.

College was my first tryst with living with people from different cultures. My first roommates were Punjabis. My second year had me living with a Maharastrian and Malayali. There couldn’t have been 5 people more different, yet no life experience quite like those two years. We exchanged food, family stories, found common threads, and new branches to explore.

Our choice to live together in Bombay started purely due to our offices being on the same side of town. It was a quick decision, neither of us wanted to live far away from work.

From day 1 in this city, I was quite rapidly pulled into the Bombay Choudhary Unit. Big brothers who would pull my leg and ask me when my next Chennai trip was- the older one who always asked about my work and well-being, the younger one who was always ready to rib me about some food I had made and clicked pictures of. Two Bhabhis who are mine. The older one always ready with a home full of heart, babies, and incredible food. The younger one who I share the most special bond with- kind, sensitive, thoughtful and always ready to have a deep conversation with. Babies. 5 beautiful babies to call nieces and nephews, and who call me ‘Bua’.

Last weekend was different though. I took off to the city she calls home. The city everyone says is ‘unsafe’, ‘scary’, yada yada.

Maybe so, but it’s alright when you’re in the hands of a family and friends who pamper, protect and ensure it’s a weekend of a lifetime. Be it hot, incredible home-food, or aunty telling me to sleep in and wake up whenever I wanted to, or uncle sitting me down to ask what my future plans look like and if I have started my personal investments and telling me what I should be doing, or the brother who came to pick me up from the airport, or even the best friend who carted us around to 4 different places in one night- she who made Bombay home, gave me a home in Delhi.

The weekend was gastronomic. I was introduced to incredible food I haven’t eaten before. Crisp and tangy aloo tikkis. Creamy kulfi. Oodles of cold coffee. Buttery dal makhani.

It was also a strange kind of home-coming. In the last few weeks of living by my own in Bombay, I was craving the warmth of friends. What was supposed to be just a weekend with the roomie, ended up with a 4 hour evening spent with friends from Pune. People who have never hung out in the same room together, the most different lot of people. People who reached out saying “You’re in Delhi! Meet us!” and who turned up when a plan was made. The super-special college roommate who asked about everyone in the family and demanded I plan my Punjab trip ASAP. The one who is practically a brother- always concerned, kind, ready with a hug and who comes with a lovely wife who exudes the same vibes. Ones who came by for an evening filled with incredible food, peals of laughter, shared jokes and the warmest and tightest of hugs. 5 years have gone by, and with them so have the boundaries of ‘I only talk to xyz people’.

And thus ended a weekend that reminded me of what 2 years of college has woven out for me. An intricate tapestry filled with different people from different parts of the country. Different food. Different cultures. Differences that always opened out new things to explore.

That opened up minds and hearts and broke stereotypes.

And more than anything a weekend at Home.

There’s a lot you can find fault with when you live with someone. There will always be differences that creep in. That frustrate. That often make you want to move out. People who will come in the way.

But always pick your battles.

Kindness, a good heart. Someone to depend on when you are unwell or need a shoulder to lean on. Someone who will understand tears when your sister has a baby. Someone who will know exactly which clothes to pick out for you. And who will always have your back. And who knows when to meet halfway when times are tough.

Delhi, you will always be special for you are the home of my best girl.

And you have the best aloo tikkis.

 

Five.

There are some days it feels like 5 years. And there are most days.. it does not. On the days it does, I’m most reminded of all the things that have happened since. The voice in my head that whispers “I wish you were here to see this, Thatha”.

On the days it does not, I’m reminded of the man who’s injected in me the permanent love for travel, photography and an occasionally half-decent sense of humour.

A lot has happened since. To say that is in itself is an understatement.

You have two incredible grandchildren-in-law. They’re intelligent, quiet voiced and most definitely spent a good while wondering what they married in to (amidst the normal cacaphony)!

You’re a great-grandfather to two ridiculously adorable babies. We’re quite sure they’re here since you decided it was about time us cousins had something new to find marvel, wonderment and awe in. And so you could show us Appa’s soft side that we never knew existed, or Chitappa’s earnest and eager enthusiasm that we all almost forgot, or Athai’s unbridled glee at being a Grandmother. B Akka’s wonder-mamma Avatar, and Bushkii’s downright positivity and strength in being a new mamma.

The love of your life quite enjoys her new status of ‘Chief Great Grandmother’. There’s a new gait to her walk, a new sparkle to her smile and a lot more hope in her every day. Needless to say she misses her handsome husband, but we’ve always got the eternal love stories to discuss that drive those blues away.

I’ve had this consistent dream on and off these past few years. Where you and me are chatting on the Thinnai outside home. It’s 4pm, I hear you shout ‘Saranyaaa. Sumanaaa.. Come downstairs’. We’re sitting and chatting. Doing the crossword and jumble. You’re listening to me talk about work. About how living alone has changed my life. How Bombay and Pune have been great. About how much I love work. About the men I’ve met and who haven’t managed to land that “this is who I want to marry” impact. If I listen close I can hear you say “you are my gorgeous granddaughter.. whoever he is he needs to be worth you”. I smile. This is what you told Akka and me every single time we got dressed up to go out (minus the part about men) and ran to ‘say bye’ to you, showed off our clothes by twirling and gave you a kiss on that cheek that always smelled of Eau De Cologne.

You saw smile lines where we saw wrinkles. You saw wide-eyed grins where we saw dark circles. And you always said “why do my granddaughters need to go to the beauty parlour. You are beautiful already!”

I didn’t know it then, but today, those were warm words of comfort to a 19 year old who worried a tad too much if she didn’t go to the parlour and thread.

The best part about this dream is waking up each morning with a smile, knowing we’ve had another one of our chats.

Our chats.

The most precious 3 years at MOP where I discussed every single JAM with you. Every single pick-up line I’d used on boys in the event. Every single trophy presented to you first, every single time. If there is anyone in the family who understands that side of me, what jamming gave to me, it is you. What jamming gave us*. 

My grandfather, also my best friend. Our best friends, all of ours.

I could write on and on, but a certain lump in my throat reminds me that there are stories that are meant to be told another day.

I end this by telling you, I’m glad you’re watching down on us. I’m beyond relieved you not once told me that marriage had to be the end-all I did in life. Instead you told me more often than not to travel, be independent and live life.

More than anything, you, though it was just past when you left us, instilled in me the love for the written word.

So it’s our 5 year milestone of you inspiring me, motivating me, and giving me new things to find joy in, and to just..write.

And what a journey it has been.

Thank you. Love you. And miss you every single day, Thaths.

*Whoosh*. 

The curtain will always be open, and the stage will always be ours for the stories we weave.

Grand-Fathered.

May 2017. It’s 7am.

I wake up to a video of a baby lying down on a mat. There’s a man and a woman singing to him. The man sings “Old McDonald had a farm.. ee aa ee aa oh. And on that farm there was some cats.. ee aa ee aa oh. With a mow mow here and a mow mow there..” It’s the same familiar song. Amma used to sing this to us.

Only, the person singing with her, is my Appa.

When we were babies, Appa never carried us until our necks were steady. He was too scared. He’d instead play with us while we were lying down, call us ‘badam/pista’ and essentially take care of us. Never quite the song and dance.

Yes, he can dance (now)

My earliest memories of Appa will be walking on his tummy, walking on his legs, balancing precariously, holding on to him. He used to give me a bath every morning till I was 5, and even after, he would check everyday if I’d scrubbed behind the ears. As a father, growing up, he’s always been the parent who’d sign report cards, make sure the fees were paid in time, and pick up and drop us at school. A stray PTA meeting apart, he had no idea what we were studying, and always let Amma be the ‘schooling parent’.

Today, more than anything he’s a friend. We’ve all grown up to love each other despite the flaws we see. Maybe he’s a bit short tempered, tends to nurse a hurt and ego a bit too much and gets too anxious if I’m even 15 minutes past said time, when I come home.

But he’s also the father who would agree to a Goa trip, crack open a Bira with me, and stand in the waves for 30 minutes straight just to give me company. He’s the father who refuses to teach me to do my own taxes, who always insists on picking me up at the airport and who will treat each Madras trip like he’s not seen me for 1 year. And when at home, he’s learnt to make a killer tea and coffee.

With akka, he’s been a strong sense of support. Be it when she wanted to marry the love of her life, or at the end of any angst she’s feeling against anyone, a shoulder to lean on when in labour, a indignant father who doesn’t understand daycare, and the same father, thoughtfully doing laundry and the dishes for her and giving her company to run errands every day.

I’ve seen him grow from a not to so involved parent to someone we’d today, curl up against and discuss life issues with. From a TV watching, not paying attention person to someone who understands “Appa keep your phone away, we’re having a meal together”.

From Father to Grandfather. 

Of the many wonderful things my nephew has given us, it has been this transition that has been the most special. To watch him sing, dance, carry him around and change diapers and tell me the same story of what Partha did, 3 days in a row, with the same levels of awe and wonderment in his voice, is a life-changing experience.

For here’s a side of him we’d never imagined existed.

Happy Happy Father’s Day, our dearest Appa. Your Jillu and Chellam love you so very much.

Also, your little grandson will disagree with the world that says ‘cats meow’. They don’t ‘meow’. They ‘mow’.

Blessed twice over.

If there’s something that the last 6 months have taught me, it’s the ability to love more, to find more room for love and to look for the light when things seemed pretty dull and mundane.

If December 1st was my first turning point when my niece was born, last week was the second.

Back in August 2016, I was out with my bestest friend who was visiting and few more close school friends. We were at the Naturals ice-cream parlour in Juhu when my akka called. She never calls when she knows I’m out, primarily because it irritates her if I’m distracted while talking. So when I cut her call and messaged saying “out call you later”, and she messaged again saying “step out and call me”, I knew something was up.

Excitement met trepidation. My cautious “Hi what happened” was met with a pause and “We took a test.. We’re pregnant”. What followed was squeals, more squeals and me jumping on the best friend for hugs because this is easily the best news any sister can hear, and I was so glad to not be alone when it came to me.

9 months went by. Numerous video calls, a gazillion “Hmm what if the baby..” statements. While I knew she was pregnant, it never seemed real until I was going to see the little one.

Christened ‘Patootie’ before being born itself, the monkey and sister went into labour on the 3rd of May. 32 hours later, and tired of people asking “is the baby here yet, what’s happening”, Amma messaged that they’re finally prepping for her delivery. It’d been a nerve-wracking 32 hours. Every minute I felt I should have been with her, instead I was on the other side of a whatsapp/Facetime call just watching her power through.

I say ‘power through’ because I couldn’t think of anyone else who calls their baby sister when they’ve been in labour for 26 hours JUST because she knows I’m flipping out, scared and so anxious. So instead of being normal and saying “Hi, I’m in pain”, she calls and says “Hi Chiclet, don’t worry, I’m doing ok and the baby will be here soon”.

Big sisters don’t ever stop being big sisters, do they?

Cometh 8pm on the 4th of May, and I just run home from work waiting for Appa’s message. I call him, and 30 seconds later he texts ‘It’s a boy’. 

Cue, happy bawling.

I’m not so religious but I’ve never prayed that hard for something to go well. As with baby Pattani in December, this little munchkin has arrived with a bundle of love and joy to give to us.

Be it my first call with him where he was busy feeding and Akka said “Kutti meet the best chithi in the world” or my everyday 3-4 times a day video calls just to see him yawn/sleep/blink or even cry, life hasn’t felt this purposeful.

There’s new motivation to be fantastic at work, there’s new strength in being independent and new zeal to be happier and cheerier. With this little Patootie (and my Pattani) has come a fiercely protective, incredulously excited side to me. And to the family, especially my parents, there’s a gorgeous side of grand-parenting wonder and awe that I see in them today. Be it when Amma’s rocking him to sleep, or Appa messages “Your nephew is awake again so I am watching him while everyone is sleeping”, or Akka’s only too natural mothering (I am her test market for this) or the BIL’s “I know nobody taught me how to pick him up.. but it’s just come to me”, the little one has become the centre of everyone’s universe.

In his smiles and antics I see my sister, in his kind eyes and floppy ears, my BIL. His smiles make me wonder what he’s thinking of. His sleep positions make me wonder how he does that. His crying makes me wish for super-powers to make it stop AT ONCE.

And while I count down days to when I see my baby in person, for now I make do with seeing the little face on a screen, sending voice messages and just calling to see him..sleep.

Like my cousin rightly said.. “It’s like your sister got pregnant and you had a baby”.

And I have two 🙂

Welcome to the world, Partha!

Gratitude.

Today I am grateful.

Today has been a tiring day. From the daunting shadow of my roommate leaving in 2 days, to horrible traffic, to unexpected work that added to an already long day, to those chums that know exactly when to come (not) and a meeting that stretched till 8pm, to constantly thinking about moving houses this weekend and more than constantly thinking of my sister’s little one that is due any day now.. today has been tiring.

Today, however, I am grateful.

Grateful for friends at work who understand my excitement behind a new bed and new curtains. Ones who smile reassuringly when I want to just punch someone, and laugh saying “It’s okay dude, you can do this”.

Grateful for a roommate who walks in to the room, sees my eyes welled up after my long day, asks if I want a tablet and switches on the fan for me. No questions asked.

Grateful for my bestestest friend who texts ‘it’s a tough week but you can do this baby!’

Grateful for calls and messages from friends and family who offer to help me move.

Grateful for a father who gives me an update of his day. An Amma who gives me pep-messages all day long, and facetimes and smiles at me. A fully pregnant sister who waddles into the camera and says ‘KAY DOT CHICLET’. Who also sends me random messages ranging from wanting to rename me to ‘cutlet’ to ‘I miss you baby’.

Grateful for the skinny friend with an ‘Awwww’ that equals his bear(giraffe) hug.

Grateful for a friend-not so sure at times if friend who reminds me of Amma’s admonishment when I was 7, makes me laugh, laugh so much when I needed some cheer.

Grateful for Patti’s dabba of karuvepilai podi and mor molaga for dinner. 

Grateful for love that creeps in from corners and cracks I didn’t know existed. For the motivation to power through. For hope, encouragement and pep talks.

How’s a crack considered defective if it lets in so much light, love and laughter?