Remembering 26/3

As I sat on my couch ,I sent a friend a “Happy Birthday” message telling him that his birthday coincided with an unforgettable day in my life. Then I went to bed and dreamt about randomness all night long. I awoke to a gloomy morning, attended a few phone calls, had breakfast and glanced at the calendar. And then it hit me. It was the 26th of march today and it was a day i could not forget, a fact that seemed so casual last night, and so painful today.

I reminisce about the very same day, 20 years ago. The picture is not very vivid in my mind but the memories that I left behind are. I remembered how the previous night she had called me and asked if I would be sad to leave her and go? If I would cry whn I wouldnt see her again at all. and then when I looked confused she told me she was going to god and that I would have to take care of dad and everyone at home,that I would have to be a good girl and to live the life she always wanted to live. I slept off. Next morning I was woken up and taken to the hospital where the only memory I have is of acha giving her holy water. She was lying on the bed with near and dear around. I was asked to come,hold her hand and give her the water. I gave it to her,but it never went down. We had lost her.People cried,my brother,dad,grandma,uncle. Everyone but me. I didnt know what was happening or y it was happening. but I knew somethin was not right and I knew it would not be for a long time to come.

She passed away on 26th march. 6 years after I was born. My mother. I was shocked. I was a child and did not know the significance of the cancer that you were fighting.

Did I ever tell you that I loved you? Did I tell you that I was proud to be told that my personality matches yours? I was happy when people told me i sing like you and that my voice was exactly that of yours? WHen people told me I would grow up to look like you, i would grin! Well I am getting married this year and I know for a fact that wherever you are, youd be watching. Das has definitely done you proud. He has raised me into a fine woman(no no I dont say this, people tell him that he has done a good job of raising me) and is giving my hand to a really nice man. SO yes you should be happy. I know you will be.

I sit on the couch wondering when those pictures will fade, tear, and not be good enough to save anymore, and whether as I age, my memories of you will gradually fade away. I do not want to be sitting on a couch 15 years from now struggling to remember what you looked like, how it felt to rest my head on your lap and you stroking my hair, and how your gentle soft hands fed me as I throw one of those tantrums.How you used to cajole me when I used to be angry at you by singing your song?

And so my dearest amma, here is a weak attempt to capture those memories into one page. I hope that we meet someday up there where I know your soul is resting in peace.

The afternoons that’ll never be

And so it was a looooooooooooooooooooooong weekend but had sooooooooooo much to do:) I’ll writ about it soon. Had to write this one today. Last evening while das and I were driving around town, having our usual chats, the radio made me listen to an old Malayalam song from the early 90’s.  It is not that I haven’t heard this song before. I’ve even hummed it quite a number of times. But today the song brought along with it a memory. Of a little girl and her mother, ears fixed on to the speakers of a cassette player. Pen and paper in hand. Amma. I dont have too many memories of her but yes this is one I’d never forget. She loved this song. It used to be in that one cassette which had a number of her favourite songs.

It used to be our afternoon pastime. Listening to old and much loved songs to take down the lyrics. She had this notepad that she used to write down lyrics on. She would play, pause, write, rewind, play and repeat. I used to learn them then, diligently as though I’d had an examination the next day! It was my way of impressing my mother. I’d always get the tune the very first time but could never get the lyrics at one go. Amma would correct my awful rendering in her smooth, beautiful voice. And I listened to her, awestruck as always.She used to sing beautifully. It is probably the only good thing I inherited from her. Those afternoons, when my brother was out or reading and my grandmother was taking her noon nap, was our time.

I used to sing at the drop of a hat, then. Now, I cant sing even when am forced to. I still remember her asking me to learn one song by myself and I did it real soon. I did it just like her. Play, pause, write, rewind, play….. It was the last one. To this day I cannot get myself to write down lyrics of songs. It hurts too much.

I miss many things in life. In fact too many things that it is probably unhealthy. Today however, this ranks supreme. The ‘our’ time. I think somewhere down the line, there are so many moments that I cherish, with so many different people. Which are simply not there anymore. And that makes it probably even more beautiful.

Where it all began

It rained the night before I was born. An unexpected rain. Susrusha Nursing home found itself walked on by women with lifted sarees and men with their pants hitched higher than the high it already was.

Mother must have screamed, her first and perhaps only emotion when concerning me. And I cried for I hadn’t wanted to be born.

After the many nurses touched me, cleaned me and handed me over with forced emotion to my mother’s mother. It was she who first held me. I remember my grandmother mentioning years later that the doctor came out and said to her that my mom delivered a doll for her to play with. I’d fallen asleep in her arms, tired from my journey.

Taking one look at my not so pink cheeks and the lower half of my body that was wrapped snugly in a clinical white Turkish towel, she’d prayed that my father wouldn’t be too unhappy. The child being a girl.

Father was too high on  joy and cigarattes. He couldn’t have cared less. He was a father, once again! The elder one being a boy was more than enough for him. After all the boy would take care of all his needs when he grows up. What was the use of two boys anyway?

Before handing me over to him, my grandmother had pinched my cheeks to make them redder. And I’d woken up to cry in protest. Through his sleep deprived eyes, father held me uncomfortably and awkwardly. When placed into his hands that formed the most uncomfortable cradle ever, he looked at everyone around foolishly and showed me to my brother. My brother who cared a damn about what it was. it could be a cat for all he cared.He was annoyed because he hadnt slept last night coz he was in the car with mosquitoes buzzing all around him and more so because he thought all the attention his mother and grandmother had showered on him would now go to this thing. He thought.

Already in a strange land, I was moved from place to place. I’d stopped crying because I was tired of crying too- yes, even then.The last person to hold me was mother. And when she did I’d realize that maybe she hadn’t wanted me born either. After all, maybe she knew that eventually I’d be the one taking her life away. Maybe. The hostility and hatred penetrated through the warm folds of the blanket and making an effort through all the fear I felt, I’d screamed; terrified.

How do I know all this?
Because I remember everything. That’s the curse I am born with.

Happy Bday Das

It’s your birthday! In a day I mean. Its funny how, as a child, I never considered the possibility that parents have birthdays too. I selfishly assumed that being born and being celebrated for one’s birth is a privilege accorded only to children. Parents were too old and worldly wise to need, or even to appreciate, such trivial things as birthdays. But today I feel the need to wish you a happy birthday, to celebrate your life, your love, all that you give to us that I cannot even begin to understand.

You have always had an unbelievable amount of energy and life in you, and such incredible bluster that the rest of the world never got to know how fearful you always were, of just about everything. It was only as I grew older that I saw your vulnerability and appreciated your grace. You have taught me integrity, the importance of detail, the meaning of multitasking long before it became jargon, how to cook, how to love new clothes, how to be obsessive about things that mattered the most like love,family,perseverance and above all patience and humility. You also passed on to me a complete disregard about what other people thought. It was quite an experience being your child. It still is, you know.

Then you became my child. I hated it, completely. I wasn’t prepared, and I didn’t have the capability to slip into the new role gracefully. I protested, rather ungratefully, and I know it hurt you. Kids are selfish, you know? They aren’t really programmed to think about anything apart from themselves. Sometimes I wonder how things would’ve been if I’d been a little older, a lot wiser. But you didn’t even give up then! You still gave me the courage to take care of you and get you back on your feet and my lord, you are back at it like a phoenix! I used to blame my lack of courage and boldness till a while ago.Now, maybe because of the things that have been happening with me, I think I’ve realized that thinking that I could’ve changed everything had I done something differently is being too presumptuous about my role in the larger scheme of things, that life and death are so much bigger than you and I and what we do or fail to do.

So Das, enough of senti stuff and all that! I know you damn well to know that by now you would be all . You have taken it as a challenge and I know I can see you in your glam form in just about 2 months time.I just want you to know that I dont think my life would’ve been any better or different than it already is even if amma was around. You have never made me miss her. I knw how difficult i wouldve been for you to raise me single handedly and trust me you have done a fine job at that. Ya i know I cant say that but I have asked around and people say the same thing too. SO you relax and enjoy your life and spend more time doing things you want to do!!

LOVE YOUUUUUUUU SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH DAS!!

Here’s to this year and many more to come! I promise you ill send you to see EGYPT and AFRICA soon! Have a fantastic bday tomorrow :0

 

To Mom, with love

It wasn’t an easy task for her – I was not easy. I remember, she remained occupied with me most of the time. She’d hug me, kiss me, read stories with me. Make me jam rolls and and she inspite of being really sick, would teach me my daily lessons and teach me songs, sing to me and write notes to me. She was with me only till I was 5 years but the memories we made will last lifelong.

There is only one woman we see who has such beauty, charisma, and style. There is a woman, a captivating lady of such grace. A lady with all the love in the world to give. This exquisite human being has this heart, this enormous heart that is almost as big as her smile. Oh, and her smile can not only melt our heart, but fulfill our souls with such warmth and pleasure. Her eyes, her remarkable eyes. They show the impeccable strength and courage she depicts every day. They reflect all the triumphs and the strife she has encountered in her life. You see, this woman of such admiration is no other than your very own mother. That is correct. The bearer of your being.

And my mother… she was beautiful, talented, had a really sweet voice, was softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel.

You are no longer around, but I will always be proud to be your daughter. Love you amma.

What’s in a name?

What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.”
–Shakespeare

When I hear this I often wonder if Shakespeare actually knew what he was talking about…. If you are wondering what am I exactly ranting about then you have to know this story, my story.

When I was born, my mother wanted my name to be unique. She also had other specifications regarding my name. My brother was named Manu, so she wanted my name to be similar to his. She wanted my name to have only 2 letters when written in Malayalam. They tried and tested multiple names and spellings on me. Tried calling me to see if I responded,not that I had a say in all this anyway but till this point in time I am ok with everything…. Now I wonder why exactly she gave this name to me…. I mean did I do something when I was in the cradle prompting her to give me this name????At some bizzare moment, probably I was hungry or irritated or whatever, when my mother called out the name “Madri”, Iwould have responded with an “huh”. So that’s how I was named.

Did it occur to her what her repercussions are. But before that my first question goes to parents all over. How do they decide on the name of their child??? I mean if the child smiled in the cradle, they will name him Santosh. Or if the child was born in the morning then he is Suraj? I am perplexed. Gods name are given to children. But what is the intention?? Is it that the names will help the child turn as virtuous as Gods???? But who am I to question laws of society and nature…. So coming back to my name…. as I said before…. I am not cribbing about this…. I was the only MADRI in my school, college and my workplace. Having a unique name has its perks in the world where there are hajar Priyas, arjuns, Sudhas. I mean if you find say a book with Madri written on it, u would know immediately it is mine. There won’t be a need to research and know which MADRI this book belongs to, coz it only me in the game. But this unique name (I refrain from calling it unusual) also had a flip side as well….

Now whenever I go and introduce myself, the people are amused. This is evident by the broad smile on their face when they hear my name. Some even go to the extent of saying “oh, like the capital of spain?”. now I am stumped. How am I supposed to react to this. “Yes Madrid minus the d” or just give that silly grin and let him/her decide. People have even asked me y my parents didn’t name me madhuri or madhavi, why MADRI?? LIke I had a choice of choosing my name!! Going to college was particularly dreadful for me coz I always thought I would be ragged courtesy my ‘UNIQUE’ name…. How many seniors would get a chance like this. I mean my name actually gives them ragging material on the platter….

But that’s not all…. I went to Barista the other day…. Now at this coffee joint I have to order, then tell my name, pay of course and finally wait for my turn till the guy calls off my name from the list…. So I go to the guy and say ill have a choco frappe and a grilled sandwich…. So he takes the order and asks my name…. I say, “Madri” he says, “excuse me madam…. Could u repeat that…. I heard the name as MADri….” I said, “yes, that’s correct… that’s my name….” you should ve seen the grin on his face when I confirmed my name…. worse comes next…. When my order was done he goes, “MAAAAAAADriiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”…. Now I would like to believe that was because he had to get through to me despite the din around…. There are many such instances…. All through these years I have seen people grin, smile, laugh when I tell my name…. the positive way of looking at it is that I have made people laugh and then I get content with it…. if you meet me and u would come to know that the MADri aspect of my character is not exactly just limited only to my name

Probably my name is unique, undoubtedly manipulated several times and hard to get the first time. I may even sound mad or act mad at times. People often ask me, if you don’t like your name why u don’t change it…. But then comes my immediate reply, “What’s in a name? That which we call Madri by any other word would mean the same sweet person” wont it????

For those of you who are wondering what exactly my name means, here goes.

In the Mahabharata epic, Madri (Sanskrit: माद्री Mādrī) was a princess of the Madra kingdom and the second wife of Pandu.

On his way to Hastinapur, King Pandu encountered the army of Shalya, King of Madra. Very soon, Pandu and Shalya became friends and Shalya gave his only sister, Madri to Pandu, as a gift of their friendship. Looking at her beauty, Pandu accepted the lady willingly and took her to Hastinapur.She, alongside Kunti, faithfully accompanied Pandu in his hermetical retreat following his abdication as the king of Hastinapura. One day while hunting in the forest, Pandu accidentally shot an arrow killing a hermit. He cursed Pandu saying that he would die alongside the person he lay with. Both Kunti and Madri were directly affected by the curse on Pandu because they were denied the opportunity to lay with Pandu and thus Pandu’s children. However, a boon was given to Kunti which enabled her to call upon any God to bear her a child. She had used this boon once before with the Sun God and thus gave birth to Karna, a child which no one was aware of. After Pandu learns of this boon he begs her to call upon Gods to bear her with children. She call upon Dharma, Vayu, and Indira and she bears Yudishtira, Bhima, and Arjuna respectively. Pandu asks Kunti to use this boon for Madri, who then bore twins from the twin Gods Ashvins named Nakula and Sahadeva.

One fateful day, Pandu desired Madri and the memory of the curse briefly eluded him. Death struck Pandu immediately. Madri, filled with remorse, self immolated on Pandu’s funeral pyre.

Having to believe- On beliefs.

All of us believe in something, atleast we believe in ourselves! Most of the times our beliefs are reasonable. We believe in things, ideas, objects etc, etc. For instance , you believe that this life is finite because you see people around die. So it is reasonable to believe that life is finite. You believe the trees are immobile because you see them standing in one place all your life. You believe water is fluid and not solid( when not turned in to ice) because you see it flowing . So beliefs are mostly formed by some experience , generally verified by some proof or other. And most of the times we as humans generate consensuses of these beliefs and we call them truths. Yes sometimes we also tend to see, over time that our beliefs may not always hold true and a new belief is generated.

However not all beliefs can be verified or generate consensus.When you cannot reason these experiences you call them ‘magical’ or ‘mythical’. Does that make this experience untrue? Do you discard these beliefs because you cannot explain to some one that your experience is real?
I call it “having to believe”. Having to believe is a choice you make to believe in something, in spite your reason tells you otherwise. You just ‘choose’ to believe because you want to it be true.

I’ll explain through this story. This is  a  story my mother told me when I was very young. I had no idea why she told me this tale , until recently I understood in its entirety,what she meant.

“One day two girls went to the river side to play.River was located outside the town and girls were generally not allowed to go there. But they were tempted to gather some smooth polished stones that were found in the shallow river bed. So they sneaked out without telling the elders where they were going. They got so carried in gathering stones,that they forgot the time. And it suddenly got dark. The river was located outskirts of village and there was no much habitation on the way. As they realized they were marooned in that place, they were very petrified. To trace the  steps back was impossible because it was not a paved road. 

They dropped all the stones they had collected carefully and stood frozen with fear. Speechless with thoughts crowding each of their minds. By now one of the girls had begun to cry .

Just then they heard a voice in pitch darkness… a thick raspy voice.

“What the hell you two are doing here at this hour” the voice asked in angry tone.

“We were playing and did not realize the time” -said one of the girls in barely audible tone.

“This is not the place to play games ” the voice retorted back in booming voice again.

They tried to orient themselves to the direction the voice was coming, but could see nothing. Nothing at all. They could hear sounds of his sandals, rough leather sandals worn by Shepards in the town. He must have carried a staff because he banged it hard on the ground as he spoke angrily. Staff had some bells that jingled sweetly as he moved the staff.

For a moment there was silence.

Then the voice emerged again.”I will drop you home” . Just keep following the sound of these bells. And if you want to remain alive, do not turn back and look.I mean what I say.Just walk” the Voice boomed in a ruthless command. They had no choice but to follow his command.

The girls hugged each other tight and walked. Walked in that pitch darkness. They kept walking at the sound of the bells and creaking leather shoes. One of the girl’s house came first. So he stopped and asked her to go home. They could see some people moving in far distance . He again warned the other girl not to turn back and look.

 Fear was paramount for the girl, as she walked. All  she could hear was her own  heavy breath. She could not see or hear a thing around. Even the sound of his staff bells had ceased. She kept walking, till she saw her house in the distance. She did not wait for the man to tell her to go home and ran towards the lights that were dimly lit. 

“Where had you been?” her mother admonished her as she saw her running into the house. She said nothing. In fact she spoke nothing to any one for few days. But she was very curious to solve this mystery. The two girls kept this as secret mission and tried to investigate on their own. They knew some man had helped them and wanted to know who he was. They checked out among the farmers in the village who lived outside the village if they had known anyone who had helped the village girls in the night. But no one knew it.

After some days they just gave up their quest.

After sometime they revealed this story to the elders of their house. When they heard story they brushed it as casual event by saying “oh! you just met the village god. he is know for helping people who loose their way!”. 

My mother stopped her tale abruptly. She never explained this tale to me.

She just narrated it and left it for me to accept or reject it. To make my own judgments. But I Know from that day onwards she chose to believe that someone will be always be there for her when she looses her way in  life and she was right. Either it was her mother or later my dad.And if no one was around to help her, she believed in god. SHe believed that god would always be around to protect her!

I believe this is her tale of “having to believe”.
This is her personal myth she lived by.

And now I do too…

Today I just shared it with you.