5 Cs 0f life.

The 5 Cs Of Life 

Isha. She was the talkative one, the friendly one, the one that spoke directly to my soul. Always, with her sweet smiles and giggles, she had a unique way of grabbing attention anywhere, whether you wanted it or not. Right from the time she would hurriedly crawl to the fridge door to get a blast of cold air and her love for “borosh” (yes, that was her first word) the world revolved around her. Yet she did not hesitate to give away her precious balloon to the little beggar girl. She has a large heart, a bit too large for my liking, but she is the gregarious one, the one that keeps the house full of talk and laughter and noise. Oh yes, noise, for those teenage years have been filled with noise, whether it was from the TV on at full blast or those songs blaring from the speakers or her voice loudly chattering on the phone, she filled my world with sound. She can drag me (kicking and screaming) into a conversation and talk to me about everything under the sun. With Isha gone, my world is that much more silent.

Amisha, the quiet one, the one that stole my soul. One look into her brooding big eyes and I knew my life would never be the same again. She took time to speak, when she did it was in one-word expressions, my favourite being “oley” when she would cling to my legs and want to be picked up. Her eyes tell me everything, even those little white lies she thinks she hides from me. Her tears too are silent, one could even think she never cries, but for the teardrops coursing down her cheek. She is my brave one, the one who knows when I need a hug and when I just want to be left alone. She is my savior, the light in my life, a light that burns fierce and strong. She is the one with the sensible head on her shoulders except when she is with her friends, who are her world and yes, there have been times when she has had me on tenterhooks when she has been on some escapade or the other. When we are together we share a quiet companionship that does not need words or explanations. With Amisha gone, my life is just that much darker.

My girls. Each as alike as chalk and cheese. Each with a distinct personality and character traits of their own, each totally unique. As with all children. They made me the woman I am today, and as their mother I had to change and adapt and learn and re-learn. Over the past nineteen years, they have kept my house and home full of their laughter, warmth and exuberance. My days have been spent planning my life around theirs, my errands have been run according to school schedules and pick-up times and I have had to wears many hats.

Now, both girls have left home.

I have just returned after dropping off the younger girl to her college near Delhi. Their room sits neatly organized for the first time in so many years and I can finally throw away their clutter and have myself some extra space! One friend called the other day, her child shall also be leaving for college and asked me, “you know, what advise do I give? How do I sum up everything I want them to know as they prepare to leave home?”

I don’t know. How can one sum up nine-teen years of parenting? Do we include basic hygiene? How can I even imagine what life will throw at them? Will the world be kind to them? But it got me thinking. And if I had to write it all down for my children (and I include the cousins and friends) I think it would boil down to the five Cs of college life. Here goes: 

1.     Challenge: Challenge yourself. You can do anything you set your heart to. You can get up early and be on time for that first lecture or that breakfast. Don’t drag your feet about it. You can fit in a walk or a swim or a game of badminton. Get some activity in your life, learn something new. Get out of your comfort zone every now and then, whether it’s by learning another language or a skill. 

2.     Cope: Learn to cope. With whatever comes your way, with whatever tools you have. Life will keep throwing you odd balls, learn to adapt and change and move on. It is not the end of the world. 

3.     Connect: Get off the phone. Look around yourself. Enjoy the scenery. Talk to people around you, taste your dinner instead of jabbering on social media. I’m serious, if you want to feel happy, you need to be alive in the moment and derive everything that each experience has to give. Snapchat posts are pretty pointless at the time. 

4.     Communicate: Talk, yes, talk. Talk to people, tell them what you feel. Do not hide behind a fear of “what will they think/say?” Everyone is entitled to their opinions, everyone can make mistakes. Unless you talk it through you will neither understand their point of view nor will you ever learn anything new. But be careful too. The times are never easy, do not ever deliberately hurt the sentiments or feelings of others. Yes, its is actually better to shut up at times. It's vital to know when. 

5.     Condone: Learn to forgive. Most of all, forgive yourself. One cannot love another person unless one is happy with one’s own self. So… learn to forgive, forgive yourself for your mistakes and slip-ups (but do not make it an excuse to repeat your mistakes!). Likewise, learn to ask for forgiveness when wrong. “Sorry” is a small word, but it can solve a lot of big problems. Never be afraid to say sorry, never hesitate to forgive. I guess I should say “forgive and forget" but I am aware that is not always possible. If you’ve been wronged, by all means, forgive and move on but don’t forget so easily that you can be trampled upon again. Learn. From your mistakes as well of those of others around you.

Most of all, remember, you are not the clothes you wear or the kajal you apply on your eyes. You are not your weight or the colour of the streaks in your hair. You are the words you speak, the promises that you keep. Your worth is measured not by the number of friends on Facebook or the number of ‘likes’ on Instagram but by how true you are to yourself. At this threshold of life, the person you are poised to become may cost you people, relationships, material things and more: choose that person above all else. Always. And remember, with all its sham and drudgery, it is a beautiful world. Be happy.

What would you say? Anything to add? 

Mesho. The forever gentleman.

“Dying is a wild night and a new road.” – Emily Dickinson

It's funny how words fail you when you need them most. So forgive me if I sound disjointed.  My Mashi, (mother’s sister) was one of the most important persons in my life. She breathed love into a teenage tormented soul and made me believe that anything was possible, anything could be. I exchanged long letters with Mashi and she always replied with affection.  When she was struck down by Alzheimer’s, my Mesho (her husband) moved to India to give her the care she deserved. And she got it. In Jamshedpur with his mother and sister. We used to visit. Some connections are not forged by blood but by relationship and empathy. This was one of those. I remember while in college I would carefully articulate letters in the Bengali script for Mesho’s mother and sister, taking care my words were right... It is not that they did not understand English, it was me who needed the Bengali. Mashi languished. I hate to say it, she never got better but the connection stayed. After I was married, I made it a point to take my husband to meet Bamma and Pishimoni and Mashi, it mattered to me. After the girls were born too, I took them to Jamshedpur to meet the mother I never had, they were scared, by then Mashi was totally taken over by the illness. I remember telling them, it was nothing to be scared of, she was one of the gentlest persons on earth. Luckily, they accepted that. 

But Mashi passed away. The mother (Bamma) and sister (Pishimoni) too. (I would have to write a whole book if I even attempted to describe those lovely ladies.) Mesho lived alone. Over the years, we developed a deep bonding. As I said, some relationships have nothing to do with blood. In fact, I think blood is futile, it’s emotions that matter, how the person has treated you in their lifetime and how you have treated them. Mesho treated me with love. And for that I shall be ever grateful. 

So, what can I say about Provat Mitra, that you have not heard before? He was a true gentleman. He stood by me like the father I lost many years ago, doing everything that needs be done, when my mother-in-law died and my mother was jazzing about in Kerala on a vacation, he is the person who stepped up and ensured I did not lose face in my in-laws’ extended family. We took vacations together. He stood by us when my father-in-law died. I shall never forget his soft smiling face as he lit another cigarette or took that last drink to the room, ‘Cocoa’, he called it. If I have to pin-point a memory, it will be impossible. How can one encapsulate years of association? Shall I talk about the holiday in Bandhavgarh or the time we walked miles in Sikkim to buy horrid whisky, or the fort we climbed in Ranthambore chased by monkeys or the lazy days spent in Kolkata? There is no end to the stories I could say, and that is the consolation I have. 

In the December of 2018, Mesho was with us in Kolkata, it was a fantastic time. We even went to an unimaginably loud open-air concert with friends and somehow survived. Mesho was gung-ho about things like that, whether it was a long drive into the boondocks or a visit to the mall, Mesho never stepped back. He left for Jamshedpur, after a rip-roaring new year’s party. Unfortunately, by the end of January, Mesho suffered a stroke that would ultimately lead to his death.  Of course, I went, as soon as I heard. His son, daughter and I rallied around. 

Mesho’s spirit was astounding. Despite having lost use of the left side of his physique, he was mentally completely alert and tried his utmost with physiotherapy to move those limbs. I often wondered at his grit and determination. Speaking for myself, I would have given up long ago. But time passed, there was some improvement but not much. The COVID situation and the subsequent lockdown ensured we could not visit him for a while in 2020. When the trains started running again, I went back in February this year. Something had changed. I could not get Mesho to eat, he had lost his appetite, I tried making him the things he loved, but even Shepherd’s Pie or caramel custard would not tempt him. He spoke to me about his younger brother who had died years ago and told me he was calling him, to green open spaces and a golf course… Mesho was an avid golfer and lived those last years hoping to return to the green. 

But. COVID got him in the end. Despite all the caution and isolation, COVID won. From the time we heard he was unwell, I was antsy, wanting to go, but helpless. When we heard of his passing, the spouse and I rushed down, hoping to provide some succor to his son who flew in from Delhi. I have never seen such an undignified send-off for anyone, particularly such a dignified man. But COVID wins. When I feel sad, I console myself that millions are going through this every day. It hurts, but as my father would say, it’s not the end of the world. 

Yet, a world has ended, as far as I am concerned. My quiet sojourns to Jamshedpur are over, I shall not be returning to that house any time soon, if ever. A whole chapter in my life is closed. 

I like to think of a world, far removed from ours where the skies are blue and the golf course stretches beyond imagination, where Mesho is right now accompanied by Mashi and Bamma and Proshanto kaka and Pishimoni and other loved ones. And my father will join him in a toast and they will sit and chatter liked they did on earth and sit back and wait for when we will join them. And the circle will be complete, for now. 

The Circus

 The Mothering Circus! 

In Calcutta, when we were children, winter was a much awaited time. And no, it wasn’t only for the weather. Yes, sure, winter meant none of that sweat of summer that clings to this city all year round. But winter also meant that school was over for another year, so no one could prod us to study. The class was done and dusted and we eagerly awaited a new class in the new year, it meant new stationery and tiffin boxes, a spanking new water bottle and books. Yes, winter meant lazy unstructured days, winter meant oranges in the verandah in the afternoon sun, winter meant those sweaters and blankets shaking themselves out of trunks, winter meant Kulfi in the cold and winter meant the circus.

Each year, the circus visited Park Circus Maidan. That was a pretty large park near our house and my parents always ensured we had tickets for the circus. I loved it. The big top was fascinating and you could hear and smell the animals nearby. That smell of popcorn and candy floss was in the air and music blared from speakers. These were the days well before animal rights activists and the animals were allowed to perform. Unfortunately awareness about animal cruelty was zero in those days which was a bad thing but I like to imagine that when we were kids animal abuse was not so rampant either. But maybe I am just being optimistic. Anyway back to where I was, a visit to the circus, usually with cousins, neighbours and maids in tow used to be an exciting part of my childhood. I remember sitting on the front seat and watching everything with awe, not daring to blink in case I missed anything! Now, with my daughters away in college and having been through the rigours of mothering, I can safely say that a lot of what I know about mothering, was from the circus. Let me explain with a few examples:

1.     The flying trapeze: This was always my favourite part. The show always began with the trapeze. We would get a crick in the neck from gazing up at the top of the tent and watching the dexterity and elegance with which the artists would fly about manoeuvring themselves from one high swing to another. Any mother who has had to juggle a child (or more) and their schedules and playtimes and extra-curricular activities will tell you that it often feels like we are flying from swing to swing with no hope of anyone catching our fall!

2.     The bears: Don’t look at me in horror, I told you there were animals! The bears would perform tricks on stage which usually involved dancing. While now I look back and believe it was cruel, as kids we were hugely entertained by the animals who were seen stepping in time to music. We loved the baby bears, they were super cute, following their mother on stage. Who knew then that all babies are born super cute. Look at my two. When they were born, they too were super cute. You wonder why bears are fat? Well, research shows that mother bears put on around 200 kgs during their pregnancy, in fact, if the female doesn't find enough food to double her weight, her body will actually reabsorb the fetus. Predictably, I too put on weight during my pregnancies. But when my two were small, there were times when I wanted to “re-absorb” them, specially after endless sleepless nights and food fights. And then they grew up and became the devils they are today, while I am still fat!

3.     The performing Monkeys: Monkeys are so similar to us. Any surprise then that when the girls were small, they reminded me most of monkeys , first that incoherent gibberish they speak and then their antics! Monkey moms carry around their young just as we do ours. Even after they leave “home”, they keep returning to visit. My daughters went through this stage when they were like Velcro, attached to me at the hip. When I tried to leave the house, one would attach herself to my foot and be dragged all over the living room. Then they grew up and left home. But they keep wanting to visit. I mean the other day I told them that their college should refund us the fees we have paid for the hostel and mess when they are happily sitting and eating me out of the house! Apparently the hostel food is not to their liking. So they complain and their father melts and orders them food or (horrors) flight tickets! I mean, I don’t care if you had gabarfalli for lunch again today, deal with it. The other day I went to the grocery store and brought back flour and lentil like the maid had asked. The store keeper looked at me in surprise, “is that all?” I was triumphant. “Yes, that is all.” No, I do not have to buy Maggi and Wai-Wai and Iced Tea and Tang and Bhujiya and Chips and heaven-knows-what else just because the girls like it!

4.     The Tigers: In the circus we could barely wait when the cages were put up and the tigers let in. Their trainers came through with a scowl. The tigers leapt through rings of fire and jumped on stools. While I do now realise the cruelty of it all, at the time it was a lesson in ferocity. We loved it when the tiger let out a bone-chilling roar. Even the “trainers” used to pale. Tigers are known to be fierce and protective, how could these be any different? You sometimes read about a tigress attacking a human or even another male tiger because it came between her and her cubs. I totally get that. No matter how much I may crib about my kids (and I include their friends and my nieces and nephews), if anyone even obliquely looks at my children, they have made an enemy for life. I do not understand forgiveness. You hurt my child and I am going to teach you a lesson in holding grudges. You may say I'm holding a grudge, trust me, it's actually a boundary wall topped with barbed wire and broken glass! Be it the teacher who called my daughter “hopeless” at age four or the relative who accused them of doing something they did not do or yet another who hurt them when they were too young to protest, I do NOT believe in moving on!

5.     The elephant parade: This was always a big one! Literally. Some of these majestic animals would stroll by and was usually followed by a baby elephant, who would be prancing around and all the other elephants would be indulgent, protective even, about it. I read an article online recently which said how elephants share one of the best mother-baby bonds in the animal kingdom (yes, nowadays being an “elephant-mother” is a thing) and are loving creatures. The moms stay close to their babies, bringing them back to the fold if they wander away, bathing them, nursing them, and teaching them survival skills. And elephants stay with their mothers for an average of 16 years. Sound familiar? My daughters stayed till they were 18 and then left for college. Even now they need to be told to have a bath, eat their meals and generally be looked after. Their survival skills are yet to be tested because we are just a phone call or plane fare away!

6.     The motorcycle stunt. There would be a huge vroom-vroom and a man on a motorcycle would drive up and go round and round in this huge circular cage, which used to be called “maut ka kuan” (or ‘the well of death’). Sometimes another man (or two) would join him on another bike and they would dangerously criss-cross each other in that ‘well’, sometimes a woman would ride pillion. For us kids, we would watch awe struck… My dad often reached over to tell me to shut my mouth or a fly would go in… maybe that explains my own fascination with bikes which still endures. So often, as mothers, we feel like we are on a bike ride which is veering out of control. Specially as the kids grew and were wholly unprepared for their board exams and studies and pressures and I wondered if they would ever get admission into any college, I often felt like I was creening mindlessly along. But there is order in the cosmos. The sound of the bike does fade and pulses come back to normal.

7.     The Jokers: Last but not the least, the clowns. Throughout the show there always are the clowns reminding us not to take ourselves too seriously and telling us that we have to laugh to be able to survive. What would I do without those valuable life-lessons? That’s the most important lesson of all. To be able to laugh. Not only with our children but also at ourselves. We share a lot, my girls and I. We share our sorrows and our joys, we share our achievements and disappointments. But most importantly we share laughter. There’s nothing so serious that cannot be laughed away. There is no problem that cannot be put to rest with a hug and a smile. It isn’t always easy, but its there. And that’s what helps me carry on when I miss my little devils and the night seems without end. The best as they say, is yet to come! 

And you? Did you ever visit the circus? What was it like? What did you learn?