Be Brave. Be Bold. Be Beautiful. A Mother’s preaching…

You stopped being my mom when I started working at the age of twenty. We became best friends. Not everyone’s blessed with a mother like you, ma. You kept me grounded; an anchor to my happiness. You taught me that fear is never an option and fed me courage. You raised me to fear none and breathe fire. To worry less about fitting into the glass slippers and more about shattering the glass ceiling. You are my boost of energy and dose of positivity.

Just thinking of how much I miss you, hollows me out completely. Our coffee table time however late I woke up, staircase chitchats as I walked down, balcony waves until I turned into that little lane, my loaded lunch bag with surprise snacks, our ‘arra-cup’ (half cup) evening coffees, boat club walks, temple drops, movie dates, mall shopping and whatnot’s. I remember them all. And miss them more.

Our giggles were endless and laughter filled every space. My sweet and sassy she-devil, I miss your eye rolls and smirky smiles. Just being with you taught me life’s lessons – Know your worth, share your magic, hold your ground, be a warrior and don’t sweat the small stuff. The most valuable lesson you taught me was to be kind. Whether they deserved it or not. In a world where it’s easy to be harsh and distant, you taught me to be warm. I saw the value of being real, being humble and being kind. This changed me. To the better. Just when I needed to mellow my haughty self.

Today, I am a strong woman because a strong woman raised me. You’ve made me be a light in a too often dim world. My mama she-shark, my crazy savage gundu (chubby) bundle of joy – your strength is unparalleled. This post is dedicated to you, our fearless and amazing mom for having raised two daughters with kind hearts, brave spirits and fierce minds. We love you, girl!

“Always my mother, forever my friend.”

February 14

A recent bride and a new wife, I think back on how we got this far.

A no nonsense guy, no flirting, no cheesy pick up lines. Mostly monosyllabic responses, no paragraphs. And that was enough as I knew we synched from the beginning. He spoke his mind all the time, did not hide anything. And that’s what I loved about him. He balanced my mood swings and kept me grounded. The confidence with which he understood me. “I don’t need a blanket”, “Yes, you do”. And I did. We belonged together from day one.

A quite demeanor, a man of few words and a mysterious look. Everything I love about him. His sarcastic eye rolls have me cracking up.

Having left home and my home country, I wonder how effortlessly I’d switched roles. I realise that’s been possible only because it’s him and how he makes me feel. Two weeks into our marriage and I know this is one of the best decisions in my life.

N, I did not get you a gift for Valentine’s Day. However this post is dedicated to you – my hero, as I always call you. I hope you know how happy you make me feel. Everyday I fall for you a little more.

“All that you are is all that I’ll ever need.” – Ed Sheeran

Now is the time…

Hearing and seeing two separate incidents last weekend made me go numb with dismay. Two days of self questioning and searching for answers, I’m still in an unmoving, answerless void.

The first was a news of a young girl who had suddenly lost her younger sibling. She was not known to me but was an acquaintance to someone close. “To build a new existence far away from everything you know and believe in is one of the biggest challenge in life”. Having left her family at a very early age, home was now more than 24 hours away. Which she hadn’t visited in a several years. I was traumatised hearing the news. A wave of chill spread through my body as I tried to process the news of her loss. Hours passed, I ran errands and allowed the weekend to consume me. But my mind kept going back to that young girl and her painful journey back home. To see her sibling. Like that. And then the questions come – How can anyone get over such a tragedy? Will life even be worth living after that? Anger, fear, guilt and sadness took over me that entire afternoon trying to understand the ways of life and the plans of God. I concluded nothing.

Death of a sibling : ‘It makes no sense and never will’. I can only pray for her to somehow muster the courage to shoulder such a huge loss for the rest of her life.

From my bedroom window, I have been watching a pair of pigeons patiently build their nest for two weeks. I would look at the windowsill everyday where their nest grew – twig by twig. It was a warm fuzzy feeling watching them set up home for their growing family. Before long, there was one hatchling – scraggy and fuzzy. Pigeon parenting was interesting to watch as either one would be with the baby bird, while the other one would venture out periodically to gather food. I would laugh watching the baby bird so greedily enjoy the bounty. Sunday morning, I woke up to a lot of bird noises. Not the usual “oorhh, oorhh” of the pigeons, but the one of a predator as well. Witnessing the next five minutes – battle between the pigeons and a huge raven was painful to watch. After several attempts, the raven won by snatching the baby bird and flying away. I stood in shock, helpless and useless. Both the pigeons simply sat on the windowsill continuing to make the “oorhh, oorhh” sound, but this time several decibels less. I immediately started researching to know if birds grieve and was only convinced they do after watching an emotional video of two female Emperor Penguins huddled around a lifeless chick in BBC’s series “Penguins-Spy in the Huddle”.

Taking a few steps back from these two incidents, I brooded over the fragility of life and the devastation caused to loved ones when lives around are unexpectedly snatched away. The emotional suffering you feel when someone you love is painfully taken away. While I did not have answers to anything, I only concluded on a few things that still remain in our control.

They say, “You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s lost.”. The truth is you know exactly what you had. You just didn’t think you were going to lose it.

Never take anyone’s presence in your life for granted. Never take anyone’s kindness for their weakness. What’s once yours could easily turn into a memory.

Never procrastinate in showing love and affection. Don’t delay. Don’t put it off. Do it now. Show them, tell them, make them feel loved. For tomorrow is not promised.

Surrender to the Almighty Destroyer…

A very recently transformed believer, my faith in Hindu Gods has shifted and taken various forms in the last couple of months. I surrender and submit to Vishnu, the protector and his unparalleled mercy. To Krishna, the eternal one you melts me within and Hanuman, the savior who symbolizes devotion at its highest sense.

Then came the destroyer of evil. Shiva. Man, did he know how to alight on my soul! To a free form worshiper such as a myself, this destroyer yet tranquil looking Lord, has completely captured my heart. When I think of him, my heart races but my mind calms. He injects a dose of courage into me every time I look in his direction. A non-believer of rituals and practices, all I yearn for is complete surrender at his feet. My mind, body and my soul.

Now that I look back, it was he who had led me on this incredible journey of self discovery. It was he who helped me shed my ego and suppress unnecessary anger. He showed me the value in being compassionate to even those who intend harm — kindness truly trumps everything. Most importantly it was he who protected my fierce spirit.

Shiva. The destroyer.

He destroyed my ego and shifted my pride to the back seat.

He destroyed my imperfections and made me achieve yet remain humble.

He destroyed my exaggerated sense of self importance and led me to see the worth in everyone.

He destroyed fear and blessed me with a fighting spirit that doesn’t flinch easily.

He destroyed turbulence and calmed my mind.

“Creation and destruction are the two ends of the same moment. And everything between the creation and the next destruction is the journey of life.” – Amish Tripathi, The Oath of the Vatuputras

Where duality ends and reality begins. Soul unveils its eternal cosmos. Is the state of Shiva consciousness.” – Bibhuti

“If the universe is trying to maintain balance, we must aid this by ensuring that Good is not enjoyed excessively. Or else the universe will re-balance itself by creating Evil to counteract Good. That is the purpose of Evil: it balances the Good.” – Amish Tripathi, Shiva Trilogy

Shiva! You’ve captivated my soul and transformed me whole. Your omnipotent presence and faith in you has led me to profound peace.

I bow down to you in complete surrender.

Attachment in Detachment and other lessons learnt…

She and I share a strong bond and can predict each other’s reactions quite accurately. Just like my sister, she gets me completely. We consult and validate each other’s decisions and thought process.

But we are both worrywarts. We think, think and overthink. Some people just can’t ever seem to quiet the constant barrage of thoughts — and we are that some people. Life being life sends over our share of grey clouds from time to time. While we go through the ups and downs in life, we both overanalyse most situations. We excel at catastrophic predictions and end up inspecting every cell in what lays ahead of us through a microscope. Costing our peace of mind. What we both dread is what we call the “wait”. Time just stops moving during the wait. We both know very well that our disturbed and overthinking mind isn’t going to change the outcome. A joke of two here and there helps. But the mind continues to be in a state of turbulence. The wait.

Two things that has helped me through my journey, lessons of which I share with her everyday.

1. Two encounters I had during the month of August. Two brave and determined ladies. Each strong willed and wonderfully fierce. Mother figures. I was drawn to both.

– One of them spoke to me the morning after I had spent a restless night waiting. She helped calm my anxiety using reason. Her words conveyed strength. With ease she used the term – Attachment with detachment. I’d heard that before but never from a mother. I saw a lot of me in her. Only more fiercer. Life’s experience showed. I knew that very instance I’d gained a new role model.

– The second experience was a few weeks later. An unexpected strong connection. This mother from a different generation was über cool. Her mind was open and her thinking fresh. She was abundantly clear she does not look for validation from a society that will constantly tell you to be something else. I knew in her I’d gained a friend.

2. A whatsapp forward message from this morning about the Hindu God Shiva’s vehicle – “Nandi is a symbolism of eternal waiting, because waiting is considered the greatest virtue in Indian culture. One who knows how to simply sit and wait is naturally meditative. Nandi is not expecting Shiva to come out tomorrow. He is not anticipating or expecting anything. He is just waiting. He will wait forever. That quality is the essence of receptivity.”

Learning from these mothers – because with attachment comes a very strong urge to control the circumstances, we are slowly practicing attached detachment of things we know we cannot control.

“Remain in the world, act in the world, do whatsoever is needful, and yet remain transcendental, aloof, detached, a lotus flower in the pond.” – Osho, The Secret of Secrets

As for the Nandi, we swear to try each day to listen to the larger dimensions of existence and not make waiting such a painful experience.

“Waiting is much easier than, having nothing to wait for…” – Tatai

This post is dedicated to my soul friend and the two ‘epitome of strength’ I’ve recently been awestruck of.

Brown and Beautiful

I am born in a county where the markets are flooded with fairness creams. A brown monkey faced baby from day one. Growing up, I was intrigued by TV commercials that always combined “fairness” with being “lovely” and “darkness” with being “ugly”.

As a teenager, I was once fascinated by a bleaching cream ad that featured a female model who in minutes transformed from being jet black to dazzling white. I saved up some money and bought what I thought was a miracle cream. Carefully hidden away from my parents, I took it out one day when no one was home. I washed my face, meticulously mixed the cream base and powder, tested it on my elbow and applied it all over my face. The pack said to leave it for 10 minutes. Thinking that the longer it remained, the fairer I would become, I decided to let it sit longer. 30 minutes later the sides of my face started itching. I thought it was the work of this miracle cream bleaching each skin cell. When the itching worsened, I ran to the sink and soaped my face clean. Expecting to see a whitewashed face in the mirror, I was heartbroken to see the same brown one with rashes all over!

Thankfully, the obsession with my skin tone was a one time craze that stopped right after that. What did not stop were the remarks and comments from around. My friend’s mother who saw me for the first time said – “She is dark, but quite beautiful”. Why couldn’t she have just stopped with beautiful?

Quite recently, I accompanied my friend to a store that sold exotic beauty products. Since it was not my kind of a place, I was silently browsing through some products that were on display. The salesperson came upto me and insisted I try their new detan cream. I politely declined. She kept insisting that it will do wonders to my skin tone and eliminate the tan. I had to tell her quite sternly, that it was not a tan but my actual skin colour. With a shocked expression on her face, she finally left me alone.

Those rare times I go for a pedicure, the lady insists I get a detan procedure done on my feet. Can’t you stop colour scrutinising every part of me?

Matrimonial ads shamelessly ask for fair skinned brides. I was referred as ‘wheatish’ in mine! Darker the girl, more the dowry. As if to compensate for the overproduction of melanin, the formula for which is coded in your genes!

India is a country where the goddesses can be dark and will still be worshiped, but dark skinned women are discriminated and made to feel inferior. Colour prejudice is widespread and deep rooted. People openly comment, not for a second thinking of the damage it does to their self esteem.

It irks me to hear colourist statements that are discriminatory. And it annoys me, when it comes from a place of self loathing. Only an insensitive fool can equate skin tone to intellect and use it as a yardstick to measure a person’s worth.

In the midst of such fools, I will continue to remain “dusky” brown and beautiful. And will not trade this for any other colour in the rainbow!

And the placemats became three…

To my little sister. My best friend. And a daughter who will always be my first.

This day, three years ago. When my little girl left home to greener pastures. I still remember the morning we got home after dropping her off at the airport. The emotional vacuum. It felt like I had lost a piece of myself. A sense of numbness took over as I walked from one room to another looking at everything she had touched, used and now left behind. I hugged the nightdress she had worn the night before. The familiarity was killing. It only took two friends, one maid and 24 hours to make me stop crying.

A week before her departure, I got into this really bitter mood. I snapped at everyone and turned sour. All in a futile attempt to hide my sadness. I didn’t know how I was going to survive after she left. This storm within brought out the worst in me. Every single day that week was a moving piece of nightmare. A nightmare that was getting me closer and closer to her departure date.

We sat down the evening before to separate our earrings. Having grown together, everything we had was ours. There had been no hers and mine. We opened the box and looked at it silently. She simply said, “Take whatever you want, akka”. And I said the same to her. We just looked at one another with tear filled eyes and somehow managed to make two separate piles. Most of the dangly ones went to her, while I kept the smaller ones.

The last six months had gone by so quickly. Travel, family, friends. Birthdays and festivals were celebrated knowing she will be far far away for the next. Recipes were shared and lists made. We made our sisters trip to Kolkata. We watched movies and read books. We discussed everything under the sky and made plans for what was coming. But I knew deep within that nothing prepared me for what was coming. Having breathed the same air as her’s for 30 years, I was unsure if I would even survive a minute with her so far away. But an option is something I did not have.

I remembered that evening in May when I was seven years old. When I first saw her at the hospital. My baby sister. It was from that moment, she became my everything. My entire universe. Nothing really mattered as long as she was in my life. Watching her grow was the highlight of my life. She summoned all the joy from around the world and gave it to me. I carried her around so proudly – in my heart and on my hips. My baby sister. The smell of her baby bald head, the way her chubby fingers held on to mine, her first squint eyed smile, the way she rolled from my lap and sat down for the first time, the way she tried to bite my nose off (yes, she was a little demon at times)….the list goes on.

From a baby to a toddler. She followed me around like a little ducking calling me, “Akka, Akka”. I remember holding her hands and helping her write the alphabets and numbers, teaching her rhymes….while my grades slipped from bad to worse. I did not care. All that mattered was her. My baby sister.

As she grew, my world slowly synched into hers. Day after day, step by step we walked through the various stages in life – from kids to teenagers to adults. The sibling bond only grew stronger.

And today, I am a proud older sister overjoyed by her little girl’s success in everything she’s attempted – an independent life, successful career, a wonderful family of friends, featured poet, multitude of new hobbies and self discoveries.

On this bittersweet day, I look back and think of how much she has taught me. It was she who made me fall in love with the king of Bollywood – Shah Rukh Khan, brought out the baker in me, got me out of my boring earring zone and wear jimkis, made me watch super hero movies, taught me stuff on the computer that my impatient mind wouldn’t learn, hooked me on to new music, made me paint my toenails and whatnots. But more than anything, it was she who taught me to love selflessly. To love a person the way they need to be loved, not the way you want to be loved. Quoting Olaf, some people are worth melting for. Well in my case, it’s my sister. “Apple cheeks” – as I always call her.

When she left home, she took with her a piece of me. Like how Harry Potter carries within him a piece of Lord Voldemort, she now has a bit of me in her heart. Which she herself might not know.

The greatest gift our parents ever gave us is each other. Cherish them.

This is dedicated to all the beautiful sibling relationships out there.

The Inevitability of Death

Over 5 years we worked together. He was smart, quite and extremely funny. Sarcasm was his game. And he played it so well. But he wouldn’t hurt a soul, not even if he tried. When things got difficult, he was always there to lighten the mood. He would make me laugh so hard and sit with a straight face. And I would laugh even more. As night and day, chalk and cheese — he had in him a side that was serious. The side in him he put forth when I was troubled. He knew how to listen, he knew when to speak, and he knew how to lift my spirits up.

Fast forward to Hyderabad in 2013. I was in a classroom attending a leadership program when the call came. A fatal accident the night before. He was no more. Out of goodwill he had offered his seat to someone else in the bus. Little did he know then he had volunteered his own life to save the other person’s.

I remember that day so well. Not a drop of tear. I called my other best friend and we made travel plans to attend his funeral in Bangalore once I got back to Chennai the next day.

Things were so hectic the next day that we did not even stop to grieve. It was an early morning train and the four hour journey was a cocktail of grief, fear and pain. The burial was that afternoon and we were heading straight to the church where service was on. Our ride to the church was filled with gripping fear to face his parents and most importantly see him. Like that. When we arrived his friend led us in. The sight that met my eyes will forever be etched in my mind – a weeping father over his son’s half open coffin. My friend and I held each other’s hands tightly and tried to pull one another back – anything we could do to not see him like that. They slowly closed the coffin as soon as we caught a glimpse of him, all the while paralysed in shock.

The burial ground came next. Prayers, friends, family. The first tear came when they lowered him to the ground. He was so young. The months that followed were the hardest. Not seeing his message on my phone, not hearing from him. And knowing I was not going to hear him say, “Hey Sudha” ever again. The way he made me feel both dumb and smart at the same time. I will miss that.

As the universe is getting used to another year without him, I’m reminded of a few simple things —

How quickly life can be snatched away at the most unexpected moment.
How important it is to live our own life, take chances and brew our own dose of happiness.
Realising we all are damaged in our own ways and, there’s a bit of darkness in all of us. But also realising there’s always room for hope and happiness. We just have to see and choose what’s best for us.
“We deserve to be happy and enjoy this lifetime.”

To a friend who taught me it’s perfectly ok be quirky — You are very much missed.

20 and thriving

Workplace lessons – Be humble. Be hungry. And always strive to be the ~~hardest~~ smartest worker in the room.

The year was 1999. I had just turned 20. It was a Thursday morning and I was working a part time job telemarketing for cars. I had two hours before I head to college to collect my hall ticket for my final exams that summer. In between a call, I looked up to see my dad arrive at the showroom. He walked right in, smiled and congratulated me. I got the job. Not just any job, but THE job. The one I’d prayed and wished for. At the building I had passed by every single day for the past three years on my way to college — the one with the green lawn, the compound (I had to get up from my bus seat to take a peak) and the flag that flew within.

April 1 – I walked in with my new ID badge on and my head held high. A few friendly smiles, while others just looked. One walked up and said, “You will be the youngest here”. I smiled and in my mind asked “So?”.

A working professional. My journey had begun and little did I know then this would require me to be fierce as fire at each turn.

And what a journey it has been. Two decades later I think of every tiny step taken, progress made each day that has added up to big results. Heart wrenching ups and downs. Most importantly lessons learnt on trust and distrust. Seeing friends who started spewing venom and seeing my success as their failure was the hardest. Icy stares and chilly words. Threats, false allegations and curses. Years moved by. What remained a constant was the unquenchable thirst for knowledge. This fed the fire within and taught me something new every day.

And today, I am thankful for many things.

The invisible hands that have always been behind my growth.
Experiences that taught me it’s the effort that counts, not the applause that follows.
Loyal friends who had my back when the knives were out.
Understanding that sometimes it’s the will, more than the skill.
Making me come to terms with the fact that it’s your attitude that determines your direction.
Realizing that great things never comes from comfort zones.
And finally knowing that passion is the difference between having a job and having a career.

I am reminded of what my dear friend said recently, “You attract what you deserve.”

And maybe that’s true – I deserve this journey. To make me complete.

Confidence, Arrogance and Round Rotis…

I am a confident and sure woman – both professionally and personally. And it’s been doubly challenging getting here given the introvert that I am. However there’s a flip side to this. Often times my self-confidence is perceived as arrogance (or even bitchy). In a country like India, you can be a woman running a million dollar business, but you are expected to have a spouse who earns more than you (same gender is a huge no no and whether you are really happy in that marriage also doesn’t really matter), have high achieving kids (plural is always better), but you are always/ALWAYS expected to make perfect round rotis for dinner.

Work accomplishments are set aside. To succeed as a woman, you are expected to be THE action figure on the home front. Everything else comes next. I’ve spent endless hours debating with friends and family that the same can be expected of men as well. Agreed, each person’s opinion varied and I have been intrigued by certain insights, while others have been plain blah.

After having finally concluded being a misfit in my own society, I have slowly learnt to accept things the way they are. I am too trivial to question age old traditions and expectations. I have tuned my mind to take what I see as right and made my own fit. And that has worked for me so long.

But there’s always been a debate in my own head – Why is it so difficult to see the line, however thin it may be, between confidence and arrogance when it comes to a woman?

I’ve had family who’ve implied vain is my middle name.

I’ve had friends who’ve called me haughty. Thankfully straight to my face and thankfully I’ve not denied it.

Colleagues who’ve concluded on their own and non verbally communicated to me that I’m egoistic and oh so full of myself. (Agreed, I do maintain a hard front at work).

But do I care? Not even a bit. Well, is that confidence or am I really that arrogant? I don’t know. I researched a bit on this and came across this simple explanation – “It’s true, both words embody a strong belief in oneself, but arrogance makes others feel bad, while confidence is inspiring”. So I am choosing to look at the many others who have come to me and said that I inspire them and they are working on themselves to be more like me. The one person who walked up to me recently and said, “Teach me to think like you”, and the other who said, “I want my daughter to be like you”.

So I continue to be confident, and not intentionally arrogant. But my rotis will continue to be misshaped and resemble pieces from a zigsaw puzzle!