Friday, February 20, 2015

Seven Years Itch

I am back..after almost a year and all of you know what took me so long. It was a 3 year old tornado of a daughter, a mailbox that’s always full of red flagged mails, a house full of plants that chose to shrivel if I don’t talk while watering them, and my parents who are staying with us these days and I sometimes wonder how many children do I have in our house. Amid all this chaos there is G, my source of infinite strength, love and Rajnikant Jokes.

A year is not a long time you know, I have seen people staying away from their loved ones, in the name of work, education,moving on in life etc. But one thing we chose to take a call on was, no matter what we shall st
ay here in this country, in our country , together. We tip toe on littered streets, we show our hands and cross the roads, we don’t let our three year old play out alone, we do a “parcel” of left over food at the restaurants, I fight and haggle with stubborn Pune autowallahs, I celebrate with a home made cup of tea when I strike a deal with the local Baai to charge me Rs100 less than the usual bartan jhadu pocha rates, G and Baba love to visit the smelly fish market every Sunday, touch and feel the stuff on display before the weeks loot is taken ,Maa has her new found friends , one of who does her eyebrows for free whenever needed and oh yes we have the luxury of a cook , a maid and also a cleaner.
Who does not love this country !

So amid all this talking, bargaining, walking cooking, buying grocery, making business pitches, I lost time for this blog.

This blog taught me to write, to express myself the way I never did before, it gave me so many applauds and bravos when someone would read it for the first time , it gave me my first celebrity moment when someone recognized me in a mall because of my blog, it gave me so many many wonderful beautiful friends who have stayed with me through all these 7 years..Oh yes this blog is 7 years old !

So to take care of the seven years itch, here is my first attempt at getting back to what I have always loved, writing…and talking.


It about moving ahead, its about picking up the best from the past and creating something even more beautiful and most importantly this page will always be about Love and other beautiful disasters.

Friday, June 13, 2014

Horee Baba , for Keya's Baba

Its a thing we started when Keya was born, this practices of writing letters to each other on special occasions. Its usually about the our marriage, your omnipresent laptop in our house, or my current concern over that rickety old study table of yours.

Amid the madness that every day unfolds, amid this demanding life that we lead, amid the crazy con calls you take a home sometimes, amid the mad traffic and bad roads, amid the sickness and nosey boogey, amid the swimming lessons and water spurting competitions what i see in you today is the worlds goofiest dad for our 3 year old .

To the world you appear sensible, sober, reserved, poised and all those fancy jargon's you can think of, but its heart meting to see you run around the sofa , pretending to be a chicken. The glee and the laughter that follows in that 3 year old bundle of hyper energy is a memory that i hold so close to my heart.

Sitting on your rickety old study table , every morning, reading, she is the only one who gives you company. Which 3 year old wakes up at 5:45, picks up her blanket and pillow and plops on the sofa in the study room, all the while tip toeing so i dont wake up. And when i finally do manage to wake up and walk up to the study, i see the two of you wrapped in her obscenely pink blanket, reading books.i know that is precisely the reason why you still want her to sleep with us on our bed, so she wakes up when you do, its all a part of your bigger plot, i see that clearly now.

But beware, i shall go all out to tell her how much her father obsesses over his prized laptop, and runs the moment he realizes you have secretly entered the study, where the laptop is forever on .No wonder she has mastered  the art of sending e mails from our wooden dinning table, and pretending to be on a call , keeping that shiny pink phone by her ear and telling all of us to "hush hush ". Its not fair that you both exchange each others phones and take calls, and i know, when she offers you her phone, saying its ringing, you drop all else and answer that call, with all seriousness. I however because of my inability to suppress my giggles, am never handed that plastic pink phone because she hates being laughed at.

You have come a long way sexy, a very long way from spraining your back the day i tested "positive " at home to carrying that pink and brown diaper bag, slung across your shoulder, the way you'd carry an LV.I have seen you scoop her up and fly her across the room, i have heard you reading out poems to her, accept her broker words, respect her story telling abilities, without a single giggle, i have seen you waking up at night and putting the blanket on her even when we have just finished an entire bottle of wine.I have never heard your voice rise when she sat on your laptop screen, i dont remember you getting angry when she pulled out alphabets off your laptop, I dont remember you shooing her away when the bottle tipped over and the water almost ran up to your laptop (i am surprised at the constant appearance of your laptop EVERYTIME )

As a daughter, she sees in you a friend, someone who knows nothing more than she does, someone who enjoys pillow fighting and gets so scared when she attacks you with the pillow. That laughter, and rolling on the bed with the pillow, the grunt in between the feeling of victory having hit you for the Nth time, that glee on her face seeing you crumple on the bed, after being hit by the pillow..this is what fathers do.They make daughters brave, they make daughters loud out loud, they make daughters feel they can win over everything. Fathers teach daughters about how the world is your playground, romp around, run, scream out loud, blow out your steam, there is nothing that can stop you.They will always be right beside you, always telling you to fly higher and never bother about being afraid.They dream for you , with you and only for you.

He will always be the first man you hugged and you will always be his most beautiful first kiss, i lost that space the moment he kissed you in the hospital the day you were born .

And how do i know all this, because i have the goofiest father in the world too.

Happy Fathers Day G !






 
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