Raising a daughter, as a Girl

Before i start writing anything, I need to tell you one thing. I have a daughter who is just 19 months old, and i worry about her being 19 years old. So if you are going to think that i am an obsessed mother , go ahead.If you are going to think I am a mad woman, go ahead...but remember , i am a mother, and the obsession and madness comes with the role.

I see traits of myself in her, she doesnt like obeying rules, she does not talk gently, she refuses to hold a doll, she spurts water out of her mouth in public, she rolls on the shop floor when denied a toy, she pulls off hairclips the minute i try to put one, her heads strikes a tilt when she see's the camera flash, she refuses to leave G's side once he is home, she wakes up and has a big smile on her face when she looks into the mirror...like me

These are things or traits that make me proud..rather, less worried. I am glad that she is busy enjoying her childhood, scraping her knees, catching a  cold, throwing up once in a while, crying her eyes out at being stopped from doing something..isnt this all part of childhood memories. I was always the restless child, who could only be tamed with a colorful book. However, i was allowed only one book a month, which would wear out its curiosity in a week. So on weekends after lunch when the world would sleep, i would step out in the sun, look for stones, twigs, broken glass shards, odd fruits and flowers, play with the neighborhood dogs and come back home satisfied. Ma would never bother buying dresses for me since i could not sustain in them without bruised knees. So i would be scrubbed well by Ma in the evening with some neem leaves in the bucket of water, dried, thrown some powder and asked to be a "bhalo mey". I was always a "bhalo" kid, good natured, jolly and content. But never did i show traits of being a "mey". I would push the silly girls giggling at me from the corner, i would never try to wear my mothers heels or drape her dupatta like the other girls did. I would be in awe of the Dadas in the locality who would ride bikes, smoke, whistle while walking, sing song seeing the Didi's, play cricket in summer  and swear and talk. i so idolised those boys. I remember being slapped by Ma for saying"Abey Sala" in front of her eldest Mama.That was also the day i was written off as being "Bajey mey" in my moms side of the family. I dont know whether i am still known as that, but now that i am a mother they may be happy. I have done a fantastic job at being myself, at being an independent woman, who has her own believes and stands by them, a woman who has given priority to her family but also her aspirations, one who argues with men if they sound silly (mostly they dont) one who has her own choice of vocabulary , beautiful and coarse and one who knows that she still has a  lot of mouths to shut.

My mother was a graduate when she had me, she dreamt for me and i lived those for her. I would say, i am she. However for Keya, i want her to be herself. I hope she loves running bare feet on the ground, tie her hair up in a knot and dig in the soil, not bother about dirty clothes and just have fun. Much as i would want her to be dainty ballerina, i will cheer for her if she picks up Karate. Much as i would want to see her in a beautiful frilled dress, the sight of her in her shorts sliding down the tables makes my heart brim with pride.I am scared of the pain she will go through when she breaks her heart for the first time, but i would pray that i am near her when it happens. So i can share with her tales of the heart break i had before meeting her father. I hope she gets her hair colored, but i also pray she takes care of herself in a way thats safe and hygenic. I hope she gets her first tattoo when she is sure of it, not a Chinese symbol, or a Star, but rather something that will help her to be a strong woman who is sure of what she wants. And if ever there are doubts, i hope she shares them with me and we can sit in the terrace, sip a Breezer and talk it out.When she chooses to see a guy, i hope he is the Football Captain not the coach. When she decides to kiss for the first time, please God please, let it not be behind a dark wall, or under the shadow of a tree. Let it be the beginning of a beautiful journey where she explores herslef and her limits, may she bloom into a beautiful person who is not afraid of getting tanned in the sun, or wearing high heels . May she always hold her head, standards and self esteem high !

Till then, i am overwhelmed with the bruised knees and happy cleaning nose boogey !