Disobedience

Joe advanced menacingly towards Brett, his bloodshot eyes narrowed to slits.

“You dare to speak against me, boy? You dare to disobey me?” Joe loosened the buckles on his belt and coiled the belt around his fists. Brett cowered in the corner, with his arms around his head, flinching at the first whip on his legs.

Brett was 8 years old then.

Brett, now, is 30 years old and he has learnt the rules from his father. He knows how to tackle disobedience. Imitating his father’s actions, he loops the length of the belt around his hands, but this time it’s his wife and child at the receiving end. They quake in a corner, the same corner where Brett once, many years ago, acquired from his Pa, his lessons on “how to be a man”

Note: I’m not justifying domestic violence, because there is nothing that can justify it. But these people (both men and women can be victims of domestic violence) who raise their hands against their family have obviously learnt from somewhere that dominance is an appealing quality. And more often than not this violent psychology is a legacy that’s passed from one generation to next. Changes begin at home!

This post is written for WriteTribe Problogger October 2017 Challenge. The theme for today's post is disobedience.

#writebravely #writetribeproblogger

Parenting Woes

The toughest job in the world is parenting and this I realized when last year I quit my job and opted to take a break from my professional life, so that I could spend more quality time with my daughter. Now that I’m back to working all the difficulties of balancing of professional and personal life are back.

As a working woman, I spend an average of 4 to 5 hours during the weekdays with my child, and the task that gets me most worked up is feeding dinner to her. When she was 2 years old, I had to employ all tactics that I was aware of to get her to eat few morsels of food. I used to take her outside and try to distract her with sounds and sights of nature (of course it was pitch dark so she was not so easily distracted), I tried to feed her while showing cartoons on TV, I threatened, bribed, begged-all my creative talents came to the fore in those 45 minutes and at the end of dinner time, it was like the end of a war. Sometimes won, sometimes lost.

Some practical mothers would advise me not to fuss too much over the child’s eating. Do not give options, do not create distractions, just put the plate in front of her and when she’s hungry , she will eat. That does sound too good in words but in reality-well, let’s just say that the food ended up everywhere in the house except in her mouth. And the end result? A cranky kid in the middle of the night demanding food. And a cranky mom in the office next day.

As a working mom, I can say that my biggest anxiety is how to provide her the required nutrition. How to get her to eat the veggies and fruits. My daughter is 4 years old now and fortunately she is not that fussy at dinnertime but she still refuses to eat vegetables. Also since we don’t eat non-vegetarian food, she is missing out on vital nutrients. In this competitive and fast modern world I don’t want my daughter to be left behind just because she is not eating proper food. She studies in Kinder Garten and the homework that she brings home every day make me wonder how I coped when I was her age.

I’m sure that most mothers would agree when I say that a major concern of every mother is the overall development of a child-both physically and intellectual growth. My daughter is at a vital age of development. She is physically active and she is curious about so many things that she sees. I realize this from the questions she asks-just the other day she asked me why fishes have fins and not hands and legs. I may not have the right answer every time for her questions but I can ensure that she receives proper nourishment to aid her growth.

Fortunately my daughter loves to drink milk and the essential vitamins she misses when she refuses to eat her veggies can be provided by health drinks like Horlicks Growth+ which help in weight gain in kids and support complete all round development. My daughter starts her day around 7.30 in the morning and I make sure that the first food she has, is a tall glass of milk fortified and made more appetizing by Horlicks. Her hours are similar to mine-she goes to school between 8 and 12 in the morning and then to her daycare. She comes home only at 7 in the evening.

When I’m in office I worry about her- if she’s eating well, if she gets along with her friends, if she can cope up with her studies and if she misses her home and mummy. So as I said in the beginning, parenting is tough, your kids can try your patience to no end, it can leave you frustrated and helpless at times. But when at night my daughter holds me tightly and goes to sleep, I feel that I can do the whole thing all again, I feel it’s all worth it.

Finding Strength in the Middle of a Storm #lookup

This incident occurred in the early months of the year 2007. My mother was soon to retire from her bank and I was busy and occupied in my new fledgling IT career that was going splendidly well. On one particularly warm night my mother asked me if I wanted to accompany her to drink tender coconut from the nearby shop. It was almost 8 o’clock and my mother’s night vision isn’t great, so I agreed to go along. My friend and I were continuously messaging each other on phone about office work and I was not really paying attention to where we were going.

On our way back, I took the short flight of steps leading down to our building and my mother took the small sloped driveway that had sand scattered over it. I was busy chatting with my friend when my mother slipped and fell hard on the cement pavement. It took me few seconds to realize what had happened. My mom had fallen on her back and since the landing was hard she must have broken some bones. She found it impossible to move because of the searing pain in her back.

Ever since I was a little child, whenever I saw my mom in pain or suffering due to injury my mind goes blank and I panic. I just cannot think straight. And that day too, when I saw my mother in tears, a cold terror gripped my heart. I ran inside our house and called out to my brother and we somehow managed to take her to the hospital. All through the ride my mother gritted her teeth in an attempt to bear the pain but assured us that she was fine.

When we reached the orthopedic doctor, he advised us to get a series of tests conducted after which he confirmed that my mother had fractured her backbone. What made things worse is my mother’s old age which made healing slow and her brittle bones that may have had a severe impact due to the fracture. He further warned us that if my mother did not undergo complete bed rest for the next 6 months, there was a danger of paralysis. My blood ran cold and I almost fainted listening to his words. I regretted for not taking care to see where my mother was walking. When we went on walks, I always reminded my mother to walk carefully or alerted her if there was a slippery area.

After reaching home my brothers and I realized the gravity of the situation. I didn’t have the necessary skills to manage a house or cook meals and I hadn’t really bothered to learn because my mother took care of us. Not only I had to cook, clean and look after the house but I also had to take care of my bedridden mother. We couldn’t afford to keep a full time nurse and a cook but our neighboring aunty offered to cook lunch for us for a paltry pay for the next few months.

I lost count of nights when I cried myself to sleep. It was difficult to see my normally active mother in bed with a cast around her waist. She took absence of leave from her bank and my brothers and I took turns to apply leave from office. In the beginning I was clueless about how to care for my mother or how to balance my office work and home. My poor brothers never complained once about eating overcooked dal or half burnt chapattis. After one particularly harrowing incident in kitchen I was ready to call it quits. My life was a mess because I couldn’t concentrate in office and at home I only thought about pending work and imminent deadlines. I cursed myself for my negligence and blamed myself for my mother’s injury. I was filled with negative thoughts and was on the brink of depression.

Then one day when I was at home, my mother called me to her bedside. She had tears in her eyes. I went into panic mode and asked her if she was in pain. She just took my hand and kissed it and thanked me for looking after her.

She said that she was sorry for what happened and she should have been careful about where she was walking. She said because of her mistake her children were suffering and she had to be dependent on them for every tiny little thing. She promised to get better soon; in fact she resolved to heal even before the doctor’s timeline of 6 months. She wanted to get better because she didn’t want to be a burden on us. She thanked me because I was looking after her like a child- feeding, bathing and even helping her in the toilet without uttering one word of complaint. And she said that she was proud and fortunate for having a daughter like me.

Needless to say we were both in tears and hugging hard like our lives depended on each other. And in a way it did. My mother’s words filled me with optimism about our dismal situation. I knew that I was doing best to my abilities to help my mother.

I prepared a schedule and got up early everyday so that I wouldn’t be in a hurry. Saturdays and Sundays I learnt cooking from a book that I bought. I helped my mother to take few steps everyday and spent some time with her talking or watching television. Gradually my mother’s injury healed and in 4 months she was walking around the house.

Even now my mother proudly recalls about the way I took complete care of her during those days. Only I know about how mentally weak I had become and how my mother’s kind word had filled me with optimism and hope for the future.  It had given me the strength to survive in the storm that had threatened to play havoc in our lives.

This post was written for Look Up Stories

The burden of a guilty conscience

The year was 1998 and I was studying in my XI class in Mangalore. Although I was a shy and reserved teenager, I had two best friends and together we had a whale of a time. We came from middle class families and whatever little pocket money we received each month was spent within few days. For the rest of the month we relied upon the small savings that we had amassed from the money that we received from relatives when they visited during festivals. Looking back at those days, they were so much fun and we had a blast roaming the small lane near Venkataramana temple. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t overly religious. The reason why this lane was our favorite haunt was because it had some of the best chat stalls and Gobi Manchuri stands. My two friends Arpita and Suma were foodies like me and we were always on the lookout for new eateries that served delicious and affordable food. 

Apart from eating, we also loved watching movies but our meager allowance did not permit us to watch a movie in theater.  We had to be content in watching movies by renting VCDs and watching it in Suma’s house where she had a CD player. During the summer that year a blockbuster English movie came to our city and all the girls were raving about this cute and attractive actor of the movie, Leonardo DiCaprio. The romantic movie, Titanic, had taken the country by storm and anyone who watched the movie couldn’t stop talking about it.

Arpita, Suma and I decided that we wanted to watch the movie in a cinema hall but one look inside our purse and we realized that we did not have enough money. We desperately wanted to watch the film, especially after some girls whispered about a scene where the actress was painted naked by Leo. ;)

I knew asking my mother for money wouldn’t do any good. After my father expired my mother was the sole provider in our family and she had to feed, clothe and educate her three children. No matter how much she planned our expenses, she was always short of money before the end of each month.  My friends were also of the opinion that asking money from parents wouldn’t be of much use as they obviously did not encourage us watching movies. And going to a movie hall to watch a romantic English movie was nothing but a sin.

We plotted an idea of inventing a fake cultural fest in our college. We went to our respective houses and described in great detail to our parents about the fest and how participating in such events would matter during our selection in prestigious degree colleges. My mother agreed that taking part in such cultural events would make me more confident and bold. Although she was always complaining about not having enough money, she readily gave me the 100 Rs that I had asked for as participation fees.

The next day my friends and I had a blast watching the movie. We couldn’t stop crying when Leo sacrificed his life for Kate and we confessed we were in love with him. I quickly forgot about the lie that I had told my mom but a week later my mother asked me about it. My guilty conscience started gnawing at me. I knew my mother faced a lot of hardships to raise me and my brothers after my father’s death.  She had started working in a bank and she was abruptly pushed into an alien world. She had gone from being a mere housewife to the sole breadwinner of our family and the transition had been scary and intimidating for her. I remembered all the sacrifices that she had quietly done for us. 

What I had done was wrong and my mother deserved to know the truth.  It was extremely painful for me because I knew my mother would be hurt and angry. But I simply couldn’t live with the glib lie that I had told.

So with trembling legs and quivering voice I said my mother about how I had tricked her. How my friends and I had gone to the movie with the money that she had given. The words kept pouring until my soul was purged of all the guilt and shame. 

My mother was listening to me quietly and at the end of my confession she just sat there with tears in her eyes. Her silence was more agonizing than any other form of punishment. I wished that she would hit or scream at me, but that quiet anger of my mother was ripping me apart. I begged for her forgiveness and promised to never lie to her. After what seemed like an eon, she hugged me and said that she appreciated that I had gathered the courage to speak the truth. Perhaps she knew that I had already learnt my lesson.

That day I realized that it took more grit and determination to confess and speak the truth than to lie or deceit someone. 

This post was written for Kinley's contest hosted by Indiblogger.

My Home My Paradise- Makeover with makemyhome.com

I've been thinking of redoing my house for long and now that I have quit my job to become a homemaker, the desire to renovate my abode is stronger than it ever was. I stare at the bare walls and think of all the décor items that I can buy and adorn my home with. This year marks the 3rd year anniversary of us moving into our home and this definitely calls for a celebration and makeover, no?

When we moved in to our apartment in 2011, my husband and I did not have many ideas for home décor. I was pregnant with my daughter and I was planning to move to my mother’s place in Mangalore for my delivery. So we put all furbishing ideas on a back burner and decided to buy all furnishing items after I came back with our baby.

The first thing that we brought for our home was a sofa. Nothing fancy- a comfortable wooden sofa with cozy cushions where I could spend hours, contentedly watching television or catching up on my reading. Of course I had forgotten that babies grow up and tend to occupy your favorite spot, eating, drinking and essentially spending all their waking hours in “your spot”.

So that’s why the first item that I would love to buy from makemyhome.com is a comfortable bean bag and I know the perfect place where I could place it too. Right next to my book shelf!

Browsing through this link, I found a bean bag that caught my eye for its vibrant color. It looks so inviting too. I can imagine myself, after a hard day at work, relaxing on this bean bag, with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in another. Bliss!

Repose Modha Bean Bag Cover - XXXL from Repose- Product Code: MMH00000003724

And this is my book shelf that it is almost brimming over with books.  Make My Home wouldn’t be selling any wall-to-wall book shelves, I wonder, because that’s what I would really need J

One of the few woodwork items that we bought when we moved into our dream home is the large TV/display unit. But somehow, as I stare at it with a deepening frown, I realize that it looks too simple and dreary. What it needs is a contemporary and chic redo that will give it a new appeal.

And what caught my eye was this The Yellow Door Round Oil Burner with a beautiful abstract design cutout. Isn’t it splendid? I think my living room would look mesmerizing under its soft lights.

The Yellow Door Round Oil Burner  from Yellow Door-  Product Code: MMH00000001518

It’s really difficult to select just 3 items to renovate my house with, because everything that I see in makemyhome site is so beautiful and exquisite. I was in a dilemma over an ethnic Aapno Rajasthan lantern and a wall mount set of miniature pots from the same brand.

The lantern has an old-world charm 

Then my eyes fell on the bare walls next to the cane swing and I knew that I had to have the wall mount set. So with a last longing look at the charming lantern, I decided that the last item on my wish list would be the below set of miniature pots.

Aapno Rajasthan Wallmount Set Of Miniature Pots  from Aapno Rajasthan

Product Code: MMH000000021394

The bare walls screaming for renovation and a makeover !

My home is a place where I can relax, where I can be myself, where I can see my daughter play, learn and grow. Home is my paradise, a blissful heaven. My home reflects my style- simple, refined and chic.

I think this song from Saath Saath echoes how I feel about my home. Home is where my heart is!

 This post is a part of Makemyhome activity at BlogAdda.com

All That Matters

Plop, plop, plop.

The fat raindrops fell on the window’s parapet making a small pool which then slowly slithered down to join a larger puddle on the road. It had been raining incessantly for the past week and the weather was gloomy. My eyes wandered over to the photo by the bedside. It was taken during our last summer vacations to the Maldives, the twins and I looked happy to be splashing around the water in the beaches whereas Vikram was busy clicking away photos. He didn’t like playing in water, thought that it was too childish. Apart from photography and his business, Vikram was never interested in anything else. I remembered mentally slapping myself as I compared Vikram and Shiv, yet again.

Shiv was spirited, always wanting to live in the moment. Many a summer Shiv and I had spent in the beaches of Chennai, allowing our bodies to be swayed by the gentle waves of the sea. And when the giant waves completely took us under it, we held each other and kissed fervidly. Shiv had been a passionate lover. Being with him was like riding a roller coaster ride. Some days I had been delirious with joy, he had made me laugh and love. We explored the world like two eager souls, wanting to absorb the beauty in life and relish it together. But some days Shiv was dragged to some dark deep personal hell within him. He kept to himself, trying to drown his sorrows in a bottle of alcohol.

Bang!

The sound of the TV being smashed to ground frightened me a bit. My father was a kind, gentle man but the fury in his eyes made me shiver involuntarily. Someone had phoned my parents and reported that I had been seen in the beach kissing a boy. When I came back home after a rendezvous with Shiv, my parents were waiting, demanding explanation. 

“Appa, I’m in love with Shiv. Please meet him once and you’ll know he’s a nice boy. I’ll be happy with him Appa”, I begged. But once my parents came to know that Shiv was not from our caste, they strongly objected our relationship.

My family was an orthodox middle class family and even though my doting parents had fulfilled my every whim even before it came to my lips, I knew it would be a difficult task to make them agree.  

“I would rather die than agree to this proposal, Vishaka. Think about what our relatives would say? We would be the laughing stock in our circles. No, No I can never agree for this to happen”.

My Appa went off with his head held down and silent tears streaking his face and Amma followed him. I realized that it would take a lot of coaxing to make Appa agree, but never in my dreams did I imagine that the next day would find me in the hospital, next to Appa’s drained body in a bed. In the night Appa had tried consuming poison. Fortunately Amma had found him unconscious an hour later and we had rushed him to the hospital. 

I promised Appa that I would never ever meet Shiv, that I would forget him and marry the person my parents choose. I implored him to never think of ending his life again.

Crash!

I dashed into a man as I hurriedly exited the supermarket. I was late in picking up the twins from school and they definitely didn’t like sitting on the lone steps waiting for their mommy. As I looked up to apologize, the words stuck in my throat and my heart almost stopped. The crinkled eyes that looked at me were as surprised as my own.

“Shiv”

“Vishaka”

We went into a nearby coffee house.

“Vishaka, why did you leave me? I searched for you everywhere but I didn’t find you. “, Shiv was holding my hands as if still not believing that it was me.

“We moved to Mumbai after my parents found out about you. They wanted to be sure that I don’t meet you again, so they took me far away from you. I loved you Shiv but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t leave my parents who had cared for me for more than 2 decades. I couldn’t “, I broke down trying to justify my act of leaving him.

“It’s ok Vish. Past is past but I’m happy that I found you. Now you don’t have to be separate from me. We can live together. I waited for you because I knew that one day you would come back, and you have”, he smiled even as my lips quivered with joy.

Thud!

A strong wind forced open the windows and the photo fell onto the carpet. I quickly closed the windows and straightened the photo. I saw another photo, I and Vikram smiling shyly. This one was taken during our wedding. I loved my family, my twin sons and although Vikram may not be as fun or outgoing as Shiv, his eyes spoke volumes of his love towards me. Can I leave them all behind to start a new life with Shiv? 

Sniff! Sniff!

My little one, Naksh pulled at my sari. 

“Mommy, are you going out somewhere?”

Immediately Daksh pulled my hand from the other side, “Mommy, are you leaving us?”

I picked them both and nuzzled their necks as they giggled playfully.

“How can mommy leave you two imps? She’s here to stay”. I had loved Shiv but now it felt like another lifetime all together. I was right where I belonged, amidst my family.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

A Whiff of Memories

I rushed around my house, my little feet doing pitter-patter sounds,

I found the familiar sari drape and dangled on it, demanding to be lifted.

I nuzzled my face in the warm contours of her body, so comforting to me

The whiff of spices and masala wafting near my nose made me squirm in glee,

Hauling me on her hips, she continued her work in the kitchen busily

Even today when the familiar aroma of garlic, onions and masala greet me

I peep into the kitchen to see her silhouette tinkering away briskly.

I placed my small hands in his big ones with so much love and trust.

He lifted me up nimbly and threw me high up in the air deftly

I laughed merrily knowing that his strong hands would catch me before I fell down.

A whiff of his ‘Old Spice’ cologne and the strong smell of cigarettes drifted across to me.

I loved his ‘manly’ smell, for a man he was, never lifting a finger on his woman.

Alas, fate took him away from me, even before I could call him Appa properly.

But even today my dad is my hero, a man who was always there for his family.

As I sat depressed and feeling lonely without a friend,

He came beside me and offered me a book to read, hoping that my dullness he could end

As I breezed through the pages of the book, the musty old smell of the books whiffed past me

It’s a smell that entices me even today, when I pick up a new book, fresh off the shelf

I silently send a word of thanks to my brother

For introducing me to this wonderful land of books, stories and tales of imagination.

I am what I am today, because of you, I say to him as I look up at him in admiration.

Shivering and terrified I crossed the threshold holding onto my mom’s arms tightly,

There she appeared with glasses perched on her nose, eyes that shone brightly

As she took me in her arms, the stiff starch smell of her sari floated across to me

The smell of chalk powder and fresh ink mingled together comforting me

She taught me my A B C D’s, she taught me how to count, my favorite teacher was she

She taught me to excel in everything I do, for that I’ll be ever grateful to her

In turbulent times I held on to her wisdom and words like an anchor.

Late nights spent studying, gossiping and laughing over a silly joke

The smell of strong coffee brewing mingled with acerbic scent of smoke

Partners in crime were we, sticking to each other through thick and thin

Confessing about our crushes and sharing a tear during heartbreaks

Birthdays smelt creamy, with faces smeared in cakes.

It’s true when people say that life with friends is like a rollercoaster ride

And my life seems so much fun, my dear friend, with you by my side.

There’s no scent as sweet as the scent of wet mud during the first rain

And in that first rain a fledgling love grew, two hearts beating together

Enclosed in his arms I breathed in his scent, his hot breath melting my heart like camphor.

When our lips met I was swept away by a wave of ecstasy.

A blend of mint and cinnamon fragrance sent me in a tizzy as we kissed for an eternity.

Lilies, jasmine, rose and marigolds lent their divine aroma

The day we took our vows and sealed our love at the altar for perpetuity.

There I was covered in sweat and suffering in pain that threatened to tear me apart,

Till I saw you, a red gooey mess in a tiny bundle, making me miss a beat in my heart.

You smelt of fresh baby powder, so pure and pristine, I stared at you in wonder.

As you suckled in peace, I kissed your cheeks, so soft and tender.

I loved breathing in your scent, so sweet and pleasant

Life has come a full circle, I think, caught in a fragile moment

The little girl who used to dangle at her mother’s sari petulantly

Now looks at her own daughter spinning around her playfully

All images are taken from Google

This post is written for Ambi Pur contest at Indiblogger.in