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.

Happy Birthday Baba

when i was a day old,his hands were the safest place for me to be in

as i grew older i learnt about holding his hands and trying to walk

reaching up to hold on to his finger ,as i tilted on one side and walked

i remember sunday morning vistits to the bazaar

watching him talk to the vegetable sellers and the many he met

he would then perch me on his lap as he sat with his friends over tea and i nibbled at my gulab jaamun

and everytime he would turn around and ask "aarekta chaai" (do you want another one? and i nodded happily

on the way back,he would hand me the lightest bag to carry,the one with the loaf of bread

every morning his voice would ask me"joldi koro" hurry hurry up as i would laze around getting ready for school

as he drove out to work he would wait till my rickshaw walla would come to pick me up for school

and he never forgot to say"thik kore jeo"go safely

infact he says that to me even now whenever i am travelling

every evening i could hear the sound of the scooter and tell ma"baba esceche"(baba is home)in

an excited chant

as he pulled out a brown bag filled with the addictive evening fried snacks

the 20 minutes that baba would chat with ma over tea and snacks was my time to listen to them talk about office and work

i guess that was my first learning lesson on sharing lives,somethign which G and I do every night

he was the first one to teach me how to cross the road,always telling "be carefull and look on both the sides before crossing"

at 27 i do this everytime i cross a busy road or crossroads in life

For him his little daughter grew overnight when one fine day i asked for "pocket money"

and thats when i learnt the value of money and about spending carefully

as he taught me how to ride my bike he always said"bhoye paabe na" (never be afraid)

i fell once and bruised my knees and he asked em to wash it off myself with dettol

As i cried that night in bed about nursing my own wounds,i got stronger to heal deeper cuts in life

and the next day as i got ready to go bike riding again he just said"let the wound heal first,i will teach you again"

Very soon i was out of home and studying far away from home

as i pretended to be brave and not cry i could hear his voice shaky as he told me again"shabhdhane theko"be safe"

i crossed roads on my own,i broke my heart and nursed it alone,i walked alone on streets without fear and i learnt to not fear anything

then one fine day i called him and said"baba aami MBA degree pe gechi"(dad i got my MBA degree)

and i could hear his voice choking with happiness pride and some tears

i started working and kept telling him how it sucked to which all he said was"shob jagey emni,herey gele hobena"(its the same everywhere,running away wont change anything )

And today on his 58th birthday i wish something not for him..but me..thats i want him all my life for the next to come

Happy Birthday Baba