What Lies Ahead

Today I am poised to enter a new phase in life, Mi, and while I know anything can happen, the immediate future manifests as a closed door. I wait for it to open. I am not quite sure I know what to do. Should I knock? I do not know what lies ahead behind that closed door. All I know is, when it opens, I am ready to face whatever it brings. I know I don't have to wait long because Time does not wait for anyone.

The potted cactus looks prickly, sitting smugly on the well worn floor. Rather than worry about the hurt and pain that will surely ensue should I get in contact with those thorns, I choose to look at the cactus' tendency to be sturdy, last a long time and manage with the minimum resources. Self-preservation on the face of adversity.

The grill on the door may appear like a restraint or constraint but I choose to think of it as security. 

The cool blue frame tells me to stay calm, practice serenity. 

The street may look deserted, but that is temporary and probably because the people who might stroll around later are probably enjoying an afternoon siesta, away from the heat of the sun.

Thanks Fotolia

I want to think, believe everything will be okay.

But I know I am nervous. 

Nervous about doing blood tests at home every morning.

Giving insulin shots every morning

Administering medication throughout the day

Being physically present

Interacting with a doctor every week

Being prepared for an emergency

Planning a menu that is conducive to feeding every two hours

Managing work and other commitments

Right now, I have no choice.

I am guilty to think I am not excited about being the choice for this phase.

I am trying to think of pleasanter things. Of another day in time, exactly four decades ago to the month, and probably, day. When I returned home from boarding school to be with you. Our home was on a street similar to this. In place of the cactus were flowerpots spilling over with color. A similar door but without the grill. Red frame instead of blue. Tiled roof. Rangoli designs adorning the patch in front of the door. Hymns filling the air from the temple record player a few houses away.  

Neighbors going about their day, smiling when there was eye-contact, even if they didn't know each other. The vegetable vendor with the basket on her head, cushioned by a coiled length of cloth, home-delivering fresh vegetables from her garden. Some days she also brought jasmine flowers. I used to marvel at how they dexterously lowered and raised the basket, laughing indulgently when I offered to help them. 

The milkman on his bicycle, with impossibly large containers on either side to keep the balance, ringing his bell to announce his arrival. The joking about whether he added water to milk or milk to water. The inquires about family members he had never met nor was likely to meet.

The couple with the push-cart, who picked up clothes from residents of this street for ironing for a nominal fee. 

The maids rushing about their work banging about the pots and pans, oblivious to those cringing from the noise.

Grandmothers relaxing in the backyard of their homes, shelling peas or cleaning rice on a winnowing fan as pigeons pecked around the yard, having their own private conversations, undisturbed by the little children chasing them in the warm sunshine.

My Grandma busy cooking at the stove, as she chants prayers in time with her actions.

I watch and absorb and store away these memories. Perhaps I subconsciously knew that I would bring them out in the future to bask in them, when I need to psych myself to feel better.

Back to the present.

Yes, everything is going to be okay. 

I will handle things as best as I can. 

I pray for the strength.

And this too shall pass.

This post is in response to #WriteTribe Prompt 2 

Write Tribe is an initiative that motivates and supports Writers and Bloggers

Enchanting Encounter

So you probably remember our almost close encounters with Saroja Devi, the actress, Mi. How surprised we were to discover she lived just down the road! We would pass her house every day on our walk to the Railway Station park. And Vidur would talk non-stop, asking about her.

Then one day, after we toured the Thao Sen estate opposite S Devi's house, we crossed the road and Vidur instantly latched on to her gate refusing to come home until she came out and said hi to him. In his toddler mind, he actually believed we could call her from the gate, like we did our friends, and she would invite us in - or more specifically invite him to play in the garden in front of her house. He was so keen to see the Krishna statue there. The sight of it would trigger a spate of stories and then, we would finally convince him she would come out the next day and manage to take him back home.

I also remember how we once spoke to the watchman at her place and he told us she was out of town. Then we ended up seeing quite a few of her movies on TV, coincidentally!

And now, more than a decade later, as I went to the polling booth to cast my vote, who should walk out but the lovely 75 year old actress who doesn't look a day over 60. My first instinct was to click a photo of her  but at the nick of time, I had the sense to go talk to her, tell her I loved her movies and request her for a photograph together. She sweetly agreed. And here we are:

Yes, I cast my vote!

And here is the beauty with the beast! :D

Well, I can't help it if I simply scrubbed my face with soap and water, scraped my head back, pulled on jeans and went to vote, right? She was dazzling in full make up, a silk sari and diamonds. But her best makeup was her brilliant smile. Sweet as ever. Charming. I was enchanted! I put her arm around her as I always seem to do when I am in a photograph with someone - and there we were, enveloped in a cloud of her perfume and framed for posterity!

Then Sury and I left, laughing!

How could I not be enchanted - she was S Devi too! Ah, I wish you were there - I would have loved a photo of you both together. Devi and Devi!

When God Made Mothers

He gave me the best one! Yes, Mi! When I think of all the "giving" you've done, my heart swells with love and pride. I am in the process of writing about some of the most outstanding incidents in our life that inspired me and gave me strength, helped me grow.

I wrote a Mother's Day Tribute post today. The list is in no way adequate - I could go on and on and on you know. Thank you for being my Mother.

My prayer is that you are my daughter the next time around.

I want to pamper you like a princess.
I want to make sure you never know what sadness is.
I want to hear your lovely laughter often
I want to see your sweet smile along with that kind look in your eyes

How I wish we were sitting together today and sharing our thoughts!

Here's a beautiful poem you'll love.

My Mother’s Garden

My Mother kept a garden,
a garden of the heart;
She planted all the good things
that gave my life its start.

She turned me to the sunshine
and encouraged me to dream…
fostering and nurturing
the seeds of self-esteem.

And when the winds and rains came,
she protected me enough…
but not too much – she knew I’d need
to stand up strong and tough.

Her constant good example
always taught me right from wrong…
markers for my pathway
to last my whole life long.

I am My Mother’s Garden.
I am her legacy.
And I hope today she feels the love
reflected back from me.

Author Unknown

Happy Mother's Day, dearest Mi!

 

Emergency #WriteTribe

That "Emergency" sign always brings a huge lump in my throat. It reminds me of all those occasions when I had to drop everything and run with no real idea of the outcome. But along with the sadness, there have also been times when the situation turned into smiles and joy.

Thanks Morguefile

So, Mi, I am taking your advice about skipping the sad times. Instead, lets dwell on joyful things. 

I know that your favorite "emergency" was when my waters broke on the eve of Vidur's arrival into this world. November 22. what a memorable day! It dawned bright and clear as any other - and as usual, Sury went to the recreation center in the evening for a round of badminton. I didn't quite feel like going out and decided to watch the ocean from our window instead, sitting in a chair at my favorite sunshine-filled spot in that space between the living room and the bedrooms, which formed a sweet seating space, yet to see happy memories. 

As I warmed my feet in the early evening sunshine, wiggling my toes, dreaming vaguely of November 24, which was the due date, I had this urge to visit the wash room. I raised myself, rather laboriously - oh, pun intended - and waddled on. So imagine my stunned surprise/horror when I felt a warm gush. Did I pee in my roomy pants? No. I hadn't lost control of those parts - of that I was sure. Then what the what? This was definitely weird. So I called out to you and you were puzzled. Then it dawned on you that it must be the "waters" doing their thang. 

Naturally, you were in a tizzy. Then I had the first sane thought. Calling the doc. Which I did, while you gathered the bags we had packed a month before and checked against the checklist everyday. :-) So amusing to think of this now. The doc asked us to get ourselves over to Emergency in St.Elizabeth's right away. 

Now, how to get hold of Sury? No cellphones those days! But barely had we begun to wonder when the door opened and he walked in. After that, it was a flurry of events. In all that, I somehow remembered to drink up the porridge you had cooked for me - I'll never forget that because you people never stopped teasing me about it for years afterwards. Then we got a taxi and zoomed off to Emergency at the hospital. This was one emergency we were very, very glad to land in! After over 14 hours of excruciating induced labor, threat of maternal and fetal trauma, I was rushed into Emergency yet again for a Cesarian. The reward  was worth all the pain. 

Ah, I have a 15 year old son to prove it!

 
This post is in response to #WriteTribe Prompt 1 
Write Tribe is an initiative that motivates and supports Writers and Bloggers

Desserts. Not Stressed

You know, Mi, I make  cake regularly now. I wish you were here to enjoy it with us. Takes 15 minutes you know. Just whip the ingredients together and place the mix in the dish and voila! Five minutes later, our home is smelling of cake. I love it. There is not a day when I don't think of you as I mix it. I imagine you giving me tips. And yes, I know you'll tell me to add the walnuts and cashews in it. But these guys don't want nuts in it. The first few times I added choco chips, then Nilgiris ran out of them and haven't replenished their stock. So after the cake is ready, I grate dark chocolate on the surface...and it kind of melts on it in the heat. Nice texture. This one is with choco chips. Funny how dark it looks in the photo, no?

Another favorite is a sort of kaju katli. I heat the khoya with sugar and add grated cashew to it and toss it in the heat until the mixture leaves the sides and, amid a marvelous aroma - the cashew-milk sweet is ready. See:

The dish is now our "sweet" dish. Remember how Vishnu used to see that pan and say "Shwee"? Brings back such lovely memories. Oh, I'll never forget how he dropped the Bournvita bottle and looked shocked and then did the deed!  Poor baby, barely two years old!

Hmm. Two days ago I made brinjal curry just the way you like it. Remember how you used to make vangibath? I make it often. We all like it - and I add a dash of that "Vidya masala" to it. So comic that we have a jar labeled Vidya. Our visitors would wonder what it was  and you would say it was a secret recipe. Always makes me think of those curry and ghee rice days in Sec'bad.

We barely had cash at the end of the month and made do with a handful of potatoes onions tomatoes and greens which were so cheap. Talking of cheap (oh yeah, talk is also cheap, Mi!) you'll be amazed to know that basmati rice is cheaper than sona masoori. Sona masoori is Rs.45 per kg. while basmati is Rs.123 for three kgs - so I buy basmati regularly. I also read somewhere that basmati is healthier as it is not polished like the usual rice we cook. Definitely smells good. Occasionally, I also cook the rice in the pan and then the memories just choke me.