The Corporate Life!

It feels great to be a part of a multinational, definitely most of the time. It gives you the opportunity to work with the best and the brightest not only nationally but internationally, sets your pulse racing when you are on an exciting high visibility assignment, immense joy when you have delivered with quality and on time, there is a thrill to have successfully pleased a difficult client. There’s no greater happiness when your work is appreciated and rewarded. Great way to work yourself into an intellectual orgasm!

Additionally, there is pleasant networking at five star hotels, business class travel to various countries and an annual off-site with the team. Not to forget, the money is good too. Good enough to pay for the lovely designer clothes, the shiny shoes, Parisian perfumes, fancy bags, foreign vacations and whatever luxury money can buy. Who said money can’t buy happiness?

However, the job we have is often not just a job, it is not just a source of earning money. It is definitely much bigger than that. It forms a part of our identity, it is a part of our life, a large part of your day, every day and an important part of who you are. You would notice this clearly while introducing yourself to people outside your work circle. Some people would even feel a loss of identity or status if they did not hold the position they do.

On this career marathon you meet lots of people, some become good friends with whom you share your joys, sorrows and office gossips. Some are acquaintances, some familiar faces. And then of course there are your bosses. You may have noticed how they have an impact on your life and even the life of your family members, positive as well as negative. I believe we learn from all of them, in the form of skills and behaviours. From some we learn what to do and from others what not.

While you are in it, mind, body, heart and soul, it feels wonderful, but the moment you are disengaged, the corporate dream starts to crumble. If you ever have a chance to distance yourself from the corporate life you may start to look at it more critically and it begins to lose its sheen. The jargon, the words in fashion that once became a part of your lingo, the fake polite “How are you?” the performance appraisal system that forces the majority to be mediocre, the race for a promotion, strive to meet an important deadline even if it meant missing a birthday or family gathering.

Yesterday, I read in a post “Life is too short for a full-time job. Too short, and too precious.” and it definitely struck a chord. It made me realize how I had missed out on some beautiful things in life because I was busy working. Do give yourself the opportunity to explore your full potential if you think that you have some unexplored capabilities, maybe a long lost interest, a hidden desire or a secret wish you have locked up in some corner of your heart. I am not suggesting that you leave your job, but do give yourself a chance to fulfil those dreams. You know best how to work it out.

Grass in the corporate garden is definitely green but the other side is definitely greener. It’s got some flowers too and you have the luxury of time to smell them.

 

If you are interested in the post I mentioned, here is the link: http://qz.com/241043/i-quit-working-full-time-years-ago-heres-why-i-recommend-it-highly/

Why I Don’t Watch Horror

My husband enjoys watching movies and he has a special love for horror flicks and movies with lots of ugly creatures. You ask him and he has seen it all. Be it Blade, Conjuring, Evil Dead, Exorcist, Mama, Ragini MMS, Sleepy Hollow and many more…I do watch a few but I refuse to watch the creepier ones. He would often ask me why but I never give him much of an answer, because there is no short answer to it and I never want to confess that they really scare the hell out of me, I think about them for days and torment myself unnecessarily. So the best way to save myself from the agony is to avoid watching them.
 

Once I happened to watch one of these movies and I went through hell for the next few days. Since I watched the movie in the afternoon I thought it won’t bother me at night since I would have forgotten about it by then. I was wrong! The moment my kids and husband slept, my mind recalled the scenes from the movie. I was scared of even entering the bathroom that night. To make things worse, my toddler casually commented, while looking out of the window that evening, “Pedh me red juju hai!”

 

Below are some of the scenarios built up by my imaginative mind that night.

1)      What if someone or rather something was outside our bedroom window, they could easily see us from in between the curtains, especially with the night lamp on. I looked out and even imagined a red eyed monster staring in.

 

2)      I closed my eyes, then my mind showed me the cupboard doors opening slowly and a black creature crawling out of it onto the bedroom floor, complete with claws, sharp teeth, drool and all.

 

3)      What if I had left the bathroom window open? Something could just fly in like a harmless cloud of smoke and turn into a white faced demon or something wicked could just crawl and pounce the moment I opened the bathroom door. What if it hid behind the shower curtain and waited for me to shut the door before attacking.

 

4)      What if a vampire came into our home, they have so much strength and they could easily break open the bedroom door. Our door locks would not stand a chance. I looked at the door handle almost expecting it to turn. Thankfully, it did not.

 

5)      To make my fears worse I heard the cabinet in the other room creak open. My eyes opened wide and my ears were on the alert. I had stopped breathing. In the silence of the night, every sound can be heard clearly. Thankfully, noting followed.

 

I even remembered the time when I was 9 years old and had watched a part of Predator 2. I cried that night while my grandmother kept stroking my hair to console me.

 

Again, that night I was unable to sleep and I just could not take it anymore. I held my sleeping husband tight and rested my head on his arm. He opened his eyes partially with a big question mark on his face. I just kept my arms wrapped tightly around him till I drifted off to sleep, calmed by his distinct scent and the warmth of his body next to me. I promised to never watch any of these movies again, night or day!

For the Lovely Ladies (Part 2)

This post is based on my experiences and of a lot of women friends. I hope it will be able to help the wonderful men in our lives understand how we feel about certain things and what they can do to help us. I know they want to (even if to avoid the verbal lashing), but just that they can’t get into our head to understand how we are looking at certain things. Most of the times it is just a difference of perspective and priority.
 

Here are a few gory details about the things that bother a lot of women making them want to bite his head off (just like a lioness) and just so men can get a glimpse of what goes through a woman’s mind. I do not believe that all men do this or that a single man does all of this. I do know that they have a lot of good qualities for which they are loved.

1)      Clothes: Worn clothes including underwear, smelly socks and sweaty vests lying on the floor, just the way you took them off and let them drop to the floor and no it does not make her conjure up images of you looking sexy when you undress, neither does she get intoxicated by your lingering scent. The sight is repulsive!

You probably hob nob with your colleagues and talk about the latest business strategies when she picks up those dirty clothes and drops them in for washing. You work on that important presentation, when your clothes are dried, folded and ironed. When you are in the team huddle they are nicely stacked into your cupboard, fit to be worn again. Every morning they are laid out for you, so you can just slip into them, admire yourself in the mirror and leave for work looking dapper as ever. 

It feels great to wear clean, ironed, nice smelling clothes. If you don’t take care of your own, then please say thank you to the person who takes care of them for you and if it’s not too much to ask then please help in whatever way you can.

2)      The Wet Towel: A used wet towel making itself comfortable on the bed and the mattress soaking in the water from that soggy towel. You may or may not expect anyone to pick after you, but then do you expect the towel to dry itself sitting all crunched up on the bed and be fresh for use the next morning?  

Sometimes she is tempted to leave it there just the way you left it so you can enjoy the stench the next morning. Instead, she puts it out in the sun for drying or for washing. She sometimes wonders if you would ever wash your towel or change your bed sheets if you stayed alone.

3)      Shoes: Your shoes are enormous and no they are not so pretty that you should place them around the house. She fears that someday someone would trip over them. It doesn’t take too much effort to put them back into the rack when you take them off. That would be so kind of you.

 

Also, please don’t walk all over the house with your shoes on, especially if you have come from a place that has dirt or mud. You may have forgotten that a lot of effort is put in everyday to keep the house clean and dust free.

 

4)      Kitchen: The F&B department almost always becomes a woman’s responsibility, as if by default. Even if you have a cook, she regularly thinks about what needs to be bought, cooked and placed on your plate. She ensures you get healthy, warm, variety food for every meal, every day. There are no prizes for doing this. On the contrary, if you can even make a cup of tea you want a hug and a thank you. If you happen to be smart enough to make a meal then it’s a huge thing for which she is expected to be grateful for. Posting it on facebook makes you look hungry, more for appreciation than for the food you made.

 

It doesn’t hurt sometimes to ask if she needs some help or if you can make things simpler for her. Some men would say, “Well, I did not ask her to cook.” You seem to have missed out on the fact that she would like you to have good food. It’s not about survival but living and enjoying. It might have been ingrained somewhere in her mind that “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

 

5)      Home Ministry: She ensures that your house feels like home, everything is clean and in place. In India mostly everyone has maids to clean the house, but managing them is a task in itself and if you have had the chance of staying at home for an extended period of time without your wife you may start to feel the difference soon.

 

Please keep things back in place once you have used them and try to keep it as clean as possible (more on this has already been elaborated in points 1to 3). Ask her if you have any annoying habits, you might be in for a surprise.

 

6)      Child Care: After months of carrying and painfully delivering your baby she takes on the heavier load of child care responsibilities. She stays up nights, feeds, changes dirty diapers and happily takes on the toughest job on earth. She also realizes that her body is no longer how it used to be. Do tell her that she is the most beautiful woman in your eyes, give her a gift, however small, as a token of your appreciation. It’s a roller coaster ride so hold on tight, to each other.

 

There is great joy in bringing up your children. There is nothing more manly than taking full responsibility of your kids, changing dirty diapers, cleaning puke, helping with homework and all. Do give her a break even if she is not asking for it. Trust me she will love you for it.

 

After taking care of the house and baby instead of hearing a few soft words of love and appreciation, she may hear complaints of certain things she missed out on. Did you notice how much she has already done? Maybe she did your share of housework too. If you do not care to thank her at least don’t compare her to another woman who is prettier/ slimmer/ earns more/cooks better. It breaks her heart to pieces, just like a piece of glass falling from a height. Be careful, don’t let the shards come hurtling at you.

 

I know a lot of men reading this might be thinking “I don’t do this” and I agree with you. I know that there are a lot of wonderful men out there who help a lot around the house, they cook, even change poopy diapers and wake up at night to feed the baby and do whatever is needed to keep the house clean and care for the woman in their life. But, if there is something you have been missing out on, then please do think about it. It is incredibly sexy when a man helps around the house and cares for his children. The days when fathers had an extremely limited role at home and in childcare are long gone.
 

Ladies, if you are feeling lucky after reading this since your man takes care of these things, then love him dearly and tell him how wonderful he is. Trust me, there are a lot of other men who do not. Luckily for those in India, we have the luxury of getting paid help. No wonder we love our maids so much. Also, a lot of times helpful in-laws and parents pitch in to take care of the house and children, which is definitely a blessing.

 

At times we take on too much, we all want to be superwomen, do it all. But, do you really have to? We are capable of multi-tasking and actually doing everything, but please don’t do it if it stresses you out. Do as much as you enjoy doing. Take it easy, you need breaks too. It's okay if something is less than perfect. We may expect others to understand our feelings but they are not mind readers. Voice your concerns, ask for help because he might be willing to help you but just doesn’t know if something has been bothering you or how he could help.

 

You do not have to sacrifice yourself for petty household chores. There are many other better things to do life. Do something that makes you happy, even if it is for a few minutes a day. Invest in yourself, your mind, health, soul. See a specialist if something has been a nagging problem. Don’t let anyone or anything steal you happiness. Observe how a happier you makes everyone else around you happy. Life is way too short to live with regrets.

 

Roar on Lioness!

 

“When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” – Paulo Coelho

For the Lovely Ladies (Part 1)

 

 

For the Lovely Ladies!

Whenever all the Dutta women meet (usually at a family wedding) they surely end up talking about the love of their life, their darling Mr. Dutta and how inept they are at household chores. To be more accurate, this is the “Dutta Male Bashing Session” and the ladies share a few hearty laughs. Here the boundary of young and old blur and I hear interesting stories about the Dutta husbands from the other older Mrs Duttas in the family.

 

While most of the women in the group have been married for over twenty or thirty years, I realize how in my short 7 years of married life, I have faced similar challenges and issues and unlike the older women in the family who took up all the household chores as their responsibility with a smile, I have often questioned this unequal divide and on several occasions bitterly fought with my husband. I never found an answer to why I should do everything while he gets to sit back and relax.

 

I was also brought up just like him with my parents keeping me away from the mundane household chores and telling me that I must focus on my studies and learn to stand on my own two feet. Academic excellence was the primary expectation from me. Every time I would enter the kitchen my mother shooed me away lest I burn myself and she feared who would want to marry a burnt girl!

 

While I am equally educated, qualified and skilled, as a wife it is expected that I would take care of the house like an expert, cook like an experienced chef, as if I had received some special training and certification to become a wife. I too had a demanding full time corporate job just like him, but that did not mean he would think about the house like me. Probably my only and greatest disadvantage was my gender and the big baggage of expectations that come with it.

 

In my growing up years and especially before marriage I noticed how carefully my mother would lay out the clothes for my father every single day, keep his towel in place and promptly pour a glass of water for him the moment he stepped into the house. She ensured everybody’s clothes were washed, dried, ironed and put back in place daily.

 

Being a fantastic cook her kitchen was always flowing with delicacies and her fridge with Bengali sweets. Her cooking attracted a lot of guests who she hosted with great delight. Home ministry was always hers and she wholeheartedly gave it her all. She took pride in it and hated any interference from anybody on how she runs her kingdom. She did everything with incredible amounts of energy and a smile.

 

Since I had not done any household chores and had never prepared a single meal for two in my entire existence my mother was not sure how her daughter would manage and even went ahead and cautioned my husband about it. However, my mother did miss out on the fact that her daughter had stayed alone and taken care of herself in a foreign land and that her little girl had been observing her role model meticulously take care of every detail in the house for over two decades.

 

In my early twenties, I looked at my mother disapprovingly and confidently told her that I would never fall into this trap and do “Pati Pooja” (husband worship). I even criticized her for placing her husband on a pedestal and spoiling him. I look back at those times and laugh at myself. Now I look up to my mother in awe and continue to learn from her and wonder if I would ever have her skill and patience levels.
 

Have you seen a lioness in the wild? The lioness hunts, protects, feeds and teaches her cubs. She holds the brood together while the lion blissfully sleeps for around seventeen hours a day! Still, what do we call them…A pride of Lions!
 
Bravo Lioness!

You may also like a related post For the Lovely Ladies (Part 2)

I will save you!

Our relationship as husband and wife is somewhat like the Delhi weather, fraught with extremes. We love each other deeply and the fights are intense too. We were having a bad day, hubby and I had a terrible fight in the morning, over the same old topic of him not taking up some of the domestic responsibilities, of not taking away some burden off my shoulders. After the heated exchange comes the silent phase just like humidity after the rain, when we play the game of I-am-not-talking-to-you.

I strongly believe that my children should not be impacted in anyway even when we parents fight. I need to play the role of a mother seamlessly. The wife in me should not change the mother to my children. Although I believe it, it is very hard to follow, to divide yourself into different parts and to bring forward a different facet for each person.

Soon after the argument I took my elder son out to play and to get some fresh air too. I showed him a few things, then we started running on a pathway made of large pieces of stone, each placed a few inches apart. A beautifully designed pathway for enjoying long leisurely walks on, but my son and I were running and he with his small legs was jumping energetically from one stone to the next. I was extremely upset inside but my gleeful leaps concealed my feelings completely.

I grasped his tiny hand and kept counting loudly as we jumped from one stone to the next (so he would learn to count as we played). After doing this a couple of times, my three year old who has much more energy than me started running faster and I feared that he might fall and hurt himself, so instead of asking him to slow down, I said in the singsong tone he usually speaks, "Mujhe darr lag raha hai" (I am scared) and he in his sweet voice immediately replied, “Daro mat Mumma, mein tumhe bacha lunga." (Don’t be scared Mumma, I will save you).

His words touched my heart, I just kept looking at his innocent face. Till a few months ago he could barely speak and at that moment in time he had said something profound. It was one of the best things anybody had ever told me. I hugged him and had he not pulled me away to play again, I would have shed a tear or two. His words meant the world to me and indeed he saved me that day. I was not feeling so miserable anymore, instead I felt loved and cared for.

A few words of can make a huge difference to the people who love you. You never know the impact it may have on them.


If you enjoyed reading this, then you may also enjoy The Parenting Roller Coaster and Gods on Fire

Gods on Fire!

My 3-year-old jetpack of energy is famous in the family for mischief and relatives would often ask about his latest achievement in the arena of mischief and without fail he gives me enough to boast about. Since he was one and half he had learnt how to unscrew bottle caps and till the age of three he emptied bottles of water whenever and wherever he could find them, mostly on the floor, sometimes on the dining table or the centre table in the drawing room and once on our quilt on a cold winter night.

His love for massacring make-up is well known too. A lot of Lakme, YSL , Dior and Chanel lost their lives in the battle, followed by a number of lotions and face creams getting smeared on table tops or bed sheets. Occasionally, there would be bloodbath with sindoor. Essentially, anything and everything in his reach is vulnerable. Decorative items in the house have also been kept to a minimum to avoid any major disasters.

One afternoon I was alone with my two kids. My elder son (3 years old) was done with his lunch and watching his favourite cartoon and I was heating lunch for myself with my five month old clinging to me, just like a baby monkey clings to its mother. So far, I was having a good day since my son had eaten his lunch without too much fuss. I was shuttling between the kitchen and the room he was in since I knew his capabilities, or so I thought.

I was about to enter into the room and smelt something burning and rushed towards the kitchen thinking it was the food, but everything was fine there. When I was coming back to check on my son, he came out of the room, pulled my t-shirt and in his usual sweet voice said “Dekho mumma maine kya kiya.” He usually says this every time he wants to show me something he made.

As I looked up, I was horrified. I saw flames rising up from the top of the wooden cabinet on which we place photos and miniature statues of our Hindu Gods and Goddesses. The red silken cloth placed on top was burning up rapidly, the orange flames growing stronger every second.

I ran and kept our baby in the adjacent bedroom and then looked for the closest source of water. At that moment, the bathroom taps seemed far although they are just a few steps away and I even considered if I should get water from the kitchen since it was going to be poured on the Gods. But, the kitchen seemed distant now.

I saw my son’s sipper filled with water sitting in front of me and without wasting one more second, I poured it on the cabinet. After two more trips to the bathroom for water I finally managed to douse the fire. Thankfully, all our Gods and my son was unhurt. Only the smell of burnt cloth remained.

Later, I realized that the source of fire was a small oil lamp that had been lit in the morning, a practice my husband had recently started and ended with my son putting the Gods on fire! With trembling hands I called up my husband to tell him the latest and the greatest from our son.

Lesson Learnt: Never underestimate the power of a small child and most importantly, no sources of fire in the house anywhere.

Parenting is a journey and I learn everyday. As my children grow, I grow too as a parent. They teach me something new, just the way I try to teach them.

You may also enjoy reading related posts: I will save you! and The Parenting Roller Coaster
 

Walking with an Octogenarian

We recently moved into our new home in a multistoried, multi-tower complex in Gurgaon. It gives me ample opportunity to meet new people from different walks of life. I enjoy meeting people from the same building and a lot of new moms who get their kids to the park.
 
If you are a parent and especially a stay at home mom to a toddler you may be able to relate to the need to speak to some adults after spending most of your time with children. It’s a breath of fresh air to be able to speak to someone in your normal adult voice rather than being the commanding parent or the animated story teller mom or the one speaking in a sing song childish voice to entice your kid to switch off the TV or IPad to join you in a game.
 
Being a mother is indeed the toughest job in the world. There are no weekends, holidays or chai breaks even at times. Your clients (kids) are super demanding, they may need you during the day or night. This is not a project that’s going to end in a few weeks and they will lay demands on your body, mind, soul and heart. You are a Mom 24x7 and you do not even get paid in monetary terms to reward yourself with spa or retail therapy.
 
Anyways, coming back to meeting new people…one evening I had left the kids under the expert care and supervision of my husband and decided to walk to the nearby market. Just as I was leaving I bumped into an old lady from our building. I had met her a couple of times earlier. She was also going to the market and started walking with me.

The crisp white chikankari kurta looked beautiful on her tall slender frame.  She had wrinkles on her face and hands, but there was a beautiful glow to her skin and bright eyes. I imagined how beautiful she must have been in her prime. I am confident that she would have made a lot of heads turn. She was radiating elegance. Such grace and beauty at that age is rare. She spoke to me all through the way, without losing her breath and easily matching her pace with mine. I was amazed.
 

She told me about her two children- her son who is a vascular surgeon, her daughter, her grandchildren and two lovely great grandchildren. I could hear the happiness and contentment in her voice as she spoke about her greatest assets, her children. She had a soft smile on her face all along. She reminded me a lot about my own grandmother. As we were about to part ways at the market, I could not resist and asked her how old she was and complimented her on her fitness. She laughed.

 
That evening my thoughts kept going back to her leaving behind a smile on my face. I wondered if there would be a day in my life when I would be an old woman and my children would be grown up independent individuals. Then maybe I would be able to talk about my children with equal pride and satisfaction.
 
Maybe the feeling of accomplishment that you get from watching your children succeed is much greater than what you feel about your own achievements. That feeling is probably worth all the sleepless nights, sacrifices and frustrations in the wonderful journey of parenting.

Of Tears and Laughter

In the months and weeks before our wedding, my mother had been completely occupied with the preparations, she took up the lion’s share of responsibilities to make sure everything was perfect. While she was very happy and enthusiastic (after all it was her dream coming true), she was fully aware that it was finally time for her daughter to leave behind the cocoon in which she had grown up, to move out and flap her wings.
 
Several times during this phase I found my mother crying at some random moment and the reason was that I was leaving. On the other hand, I never cried, I never felt like crying, firstly, because I was moving just 500 meters away, secondly, this was not the first time I was leaving home, I had previously left home to complete my master’s degree in the UK, which was half the world and time zones away and lastly because my hubby- to- be had always made me feel comfortable, leaving me with no anxiety about marrying him.
 
As per Bengali customs we were to leave post lunch on the day after the wedding. We had a house full of relatives from both sides, aunts, uncles and lots of cousins. The smell of Bengali delicacies and sound of cheer filled the air. My husband’s cousins were cracking jokes and playfully asking me to cover my head like a coy bride and I was playing along. I saw my father watching me from a distance. Observing, how his little girl had transformed into a married woman.
 
Once lunch was over, it was finally time to leave behind my paternal home to start a new life as Mrs Dutta. My father-in-law, a stickler for time was glancing at his watch. I could feel the lump in my throat growing at the same pace my family gathered in the drawing room. Soon, we realized that the groom was missing and everyone started looking for him. I took the opportunity to leave the room and go to my room.
 
I was surprised to find my husband there, sitting with his laptop in front of him. I told him that everyone was looking for him and that it was time. At that moment, I seemed to be more eager to leave my house than him. He turned around and asked me about wi-fi connections and internet connectivity in return. He had to send something urgent to his boss in office and had been unable to connect to the internet. He was tensed. I was amused.
 
Finally, he made it to the front room and my family was saying good bye to me and blessing us. My mother showed extraordinary strength and held back her tears but I could not hold back mine. The moment of my departure had arrived, I was leaving the home I had grown up in, my parents were parting with a part of their heart, their only child who they had loved and nurtured for over two decades.
 
I was leaving behind everyone and everything that was familiar to me, taking a leap of faith, taking up new responsibilities, new roles, new relationships and a new surname. As I was walking out the door, my father whispered into my ear, “Do us proud like you always have.” It was definitely a heavy moment for me, tears rolling down silently.
 
Two of my cousin sisters (around 10 years of age at that time) were coming along with me, to give me company. As we sat in the car and it started moving, I was trying to regain my composure, explaining to myself that I was still going to stay close-by. My little sisters continued to cry softly but audibly.
 
My husband who had been a silent spectator all along was surely feeling bad and gently asked my sisters to stop crying since watching them cry would make me feel worse. The moment he dropped those words, it seemed as if the laws of Physics had made themselves applicable there. My baby sisters gave an equal and opposite reaction, they started crying even more loudly.
 
I burst out laughing although my eyes were still wet. Never before had I gone from tears to laughter so quickly, it was a first, but not the last. I guess somewhere between the wedding vows, my hubby made a promise to make me laugh, always, even when I cried.

It happened one day

Last year was a year of change for us. We moved house, welcomed our younger son into our family and I decided to quit my job to be able to devote more time to my children and enjoy motherhood. When my elder son was born I was working full time and I often found myself stretched between my newborn child and by job.  With the two of them, I felt it would be best to focus my attention on my children since they were going to be so small only once and it is now that they needed me the most. I did not want to miss out on these beautiful days. Moreover, an employee is always replaceable, a mother, probably not.
 

Currently, I am a stay-at-home mom who takes care of her kids (with support from our maid) and my husband is the other adult in the house with a demanding corporate job. When he is at home in the evenings and on weekends, he would often play with the kids and ensure I got a much needed break from by 24x7 double mommy role, which on a lot of days is strenuous enough to make any corporate job look like a dream.

 

It was a usual Saturday morning in the month of June, my husband and I were sitting at the dining table, enjoying some uninterrupted time since both the kids were peacefully sleeping, evaluating the different breakfast options we had for the day, we finally decided to have some dosas but we needed some curd to prepare the premix. I volunteered to walk down to the small store in our apartment complex to get it. It was an opportunity for me to get some fresh morning air and a short walk.

On the way to the store I noticed a langur (leaf monkey) sitting on the neem tree. He was tied to the tree with a long rope. He was probably on guard to scare away any wild monkeys that may have been visiting the locality. I thought about giving him a banana later in the day when my 3-year-old woke up, so my son could watch the langur eating a banana.

 

At the store I bought curd and just when I was about to leave I noticed that the fresh supply of fruits and vegetables had just arrived. I was tempted to buy some fresh yellow bananas for my baby who had recently started eating solids. I was buying other things while they were unloading the fresh supplies. I saw that while taking out the pack of bananas, the box opened from the bottom and the whole bunch of bananas landed on the ground.

 

I was wondering if the bananas would be damaged and if it still was a good idea to buy them, but I put my doubts to rest and asked the shopkeeper to give me a few from the side that was not damaged. I happened to get a call at that time and did not look closely at the fruits he handed over to me. I was done purchasing what I needed and walked back home.

Once I reached home I noticed that the bananas were all torn and definitely unfit for my baby’s consumption. I decided to go at once and get it replaced. My husband asked me to go later and even offered to go himself but I insisted on going myself. I again made my way to the store, noticed the langur on the neem tree and made sure I was walking a little further away from where he was, especially since I was carrying bananas.

The shopkeeper replaced the bananas and I started walking back to the house, looking forward to eating dosas, waking up my son to show him the langur. I waited to cross the area near the main exit carefully since it usually has a lot of cars passing by (and the cab drivers in Gurgaon cannot be trusted). I was looking to my right to watch out for any cars.

Once I crossed the road I looked to my left and was shocked to see the langur who had earlier been on the tree now sitting right there on the pavement, very near to where I was. I had not noticed him earlier and realized I was in a bad spot carrying his favorite food, I decided to move away, but before I could move a muscle, he leaped at me, baring his yellow teeth at me. I screamed in fear as I was sure that I was about to be bitten!

The next thing I remembered was that I was being helped to my feet. I could not open my eyes and my legs seemed to have turned to jelly. I could only hear a few voices. In a few minutes I was standing but for some reason I could not lift my head straight. My body was numb. I started mumbling my house number so that someone could call my husband, but to my surprise he was already there, supporting me to stand.

 
Someone who had seen me fall asked us to get into his car so I could be taken to the hospital. Just when I was getting into the car, I realized that the children were at home without either parent. As I started thinking about them, tears rolled down my cheeks, especially my younger son, who had been largely dependent on me throughout his existence of 7 months for nourishment, care and love.
 
He had been spending most of his waking hours either in my lap or on my left hip with my arm curled around him while I did anything around the house. He is the kind of baby that cries whenever he sees his mother putting him down or going out of the room. For some strange reason, that very morning I was talking about starting bottle feeding him to reduce his complete dependence on me.

On the way to the hospital, I heard my husband speaking to my mother about the bad cut on the back of my head. It’s only then that I felt some pain and the blood trickling down my neck, soaking the back of my t-shirt. I also got to know that I had been unconscious for a few minutes.

In the emergency room, my hubby dearest was always by my side. When the surgeon administered local anesthesia around the wound before stitching, I found it to be more painful than the spinal anesthesia given to me before both my C-sections. When the doctor asked my husband to leave the place I resisted and held his hand tightly. I was in terrible pain throughout the suturing process and cried unashamed like a small child.

Soon after, I vomited, which made the doctors doubt if I had any internal brain injuries and was promptly sent for a CT scan. I noticed how all eyes were on me when I was getting wheeled in to the scanning section, looking at the bandage around my head and the blood stained clothes. Some people waiting outside the scanning area were asking my husband about how I got injured.

 

After the scan we went back to the emergency section and were waiting for my scan report. It was a tense moment. Suddenly, my husband started telling me about the guy who was speaking to him. He had asked my husband “Sar pe chot lagi hai?” While in reality he just nodded and was in no mood to get into the details of how and when, he told me what he really wanted to say, “Nahi, bas style marne ke liye madam ne bandage bandha hai”. We both laughed about it and I simultaneously fell in love with him a little more knowing that only he could make me laugh in the worst of situations.

 

Thankfully, the reports was fine and I was allowed to go back home. Later, I thought about the whole incident, I was thankful that that I was fine, it could have been much worse. Luckily I did not get scratched or bitten by the monkey or run over by a car, thankfully my bones were not broken and because of everyone’s blessings I was not in a coma. This accident made me think about the fragility of human life, the thin line between life and death.

I looked back at the sequence of events of that Saturday morning and had even one thing been different, I would not have been hurt. Had I not chosen to go out myself, not bought the bananas, looked at the bananas before heading home or not gone back to change it again at the same time, this would have probably never happened. But, I guess it had to happen.

 

I remembered the uneasy feeling before getting into the car to go to the hospital. It’s the same feeling that you get when you have unfinished business. At one point in time I thought about how life would change for the ones who love me if something serious would have happened to me.

I strongly felt the need to fulfill my dreams, to bring up my children who are so dependent on me at this stage of their lives, felt the desire to see them as grown up men, to grow old hand in hand with my husband, to express how much I love the special people in my life.

 

Among one of my dreams is my dream to write, to be a published author and I realize time is precious, time is running out just like the way it does in an hour glass, so I have started writing and sharing my thoughts, beautiful moments from my life that make life worth living with those closest to me and with everyone else willing to read.

 

I urge you to not wait for another day before working towards realizing your dreams, do not let today pass you by, do something that you have been wanting to do for a long time, invest in yourself, do something that you love doing however small it may be, express what you want to express, tell the people you love how much you love them. Do not let the sands of time slip through cause you never know what is going to happen tomorrow and yes, please be careful around wild animals.

 

Our first day as Mr. and Mrs. Dutta

The day after we got married we all flew to Ahmedabad, to visit my hubby’s paternal home. A big reception party had been planned for the same evening to celebrate our wedding. It was a day of firsts for me. It was my first visit to his house and the first day of our life together as husband and wife.

Early in the morning I dressed up in the heavy red zari bordered banarasi silk saree which I had worn for our wedding and left for the airport. It felt weird to be at the airport in my wedding saree and as can be expected I was attracting more attention than I ever wanted to. After some flight overloading drama half the family managed to board the direct flight while the rest had to take a longer flight from Delhi to Mumbai and then to Ahmedabad.

 
A lot of guests were waiting to meet us at the house. My mother-in-law gave us a warm welcome, greeted us as per traditional customs. I still remember the cheerful voices, laughter, the fragrance of the flowers and us standing at the door with my feet soaked in alta (red liquid), holding a fish in one hand and my brother-in-law helping me with the saree. I found it funny standing at the entrance with a dead slimy fish in one hand. Although I had been a fish eater throughout my life, the look of the fish made me giggle and sensing my thoughts my mother-in-law started giggling too.

Close family and friends were invited for a special meeting with the ‘nayi bahu’, followed by lunch. “Boubhat” is of special significance for us Bengalis, which marks the first meal of the new bride at her in-laws house. From this day on the husband promises to take responsibility of his wife’s needs of food and clothing. As per the custom my husband gifted me a saree and offered my first rice at his house. My lunch included various Bengali delicacies but I could not eat much.

After lunch I got up to wash my hands and my husband was keen to escort me to the bathroom and in the process show me the room in he had occupied as a child. He was keenly describing each item present in the room and the modifications done to welcome me into his life. His single bed too had a partner now in the form on another single bed which were joined together to make a double bed.

 

He showed me his wooden study table, which he had used during his school years. He told me how he had once gathered a lot of stick on tattoos (the ones free with boomer chewing gum we bought as children) and instead of pasting it on himself, he had pasted them all to his study table which was fairly new at that time. Fearing that he would get scolded for doing so he tried to remove the tattoos by scratching them off with a sharp object but had failed miserably leaving behind ugly scratches. I noticed the scratches and a few colourful superhero tattoos which a lot of us had collected and boasted about when we were children. 

He was so engrossed in telling me about his childhood (and of course he could not take his eyes off me) that he never realized that he had actually walked into the bathroom with me. I washed my hands, still listening to his stories and we were about to step out when I heard voices from his bedroom. My side of the family including my parents, uncles, aunts and cousins who were expected to arrive had arrived and poured into the room to place all the wedding gifts from my family to his family. I could hear my family asking where I was (naturally curious to know how their newly married daughter was doing).

 

We looked at each other, standing still in front of the washbasin, now quiet and listening to the commotion outside the door and wondering what to do next. Stepping out of the bathroom together would have looked odd but hiding inside the bathroom was also not an option. So without wasting another moment we stepped out. To my husband’s disadvantage my father happened to be standing just outside the door and being the unabashed person that he is, he asked my husband what we were doing in the bathroom to which my embarrassed husband just replied that he had taken me to get my hands washed. My father did not look too convinced by the explanation since his daughter had been very independent and did not need anyone’s help to wash her hands.

 

Not only was it a day of firsts for me, but also for my husband, having become the son-in-law to a strict but loving father. It’s no easy joke to marry the only child of a fiercely protective father. Kudos to you Mr Dutta!

 

P.S. Till this day, whenever we get home from my parents place at night, my husband sends a text message to my father to inform him that we have reached home safely.

Some coffee for you?

I became Mrs Dutta in 2007 and embarked on a new journey, a journey of faith, companionship, petty arguments, fights, funny moments and most of all LOVE. In these beautiful years I have experienced countless shades of love, which I had never experienced before and don't think I can anywhere else.

I write this blog to capture some of the funny and beautiful moments I have experienced over the last seven years of being Mrs Dutta. Before I get into some of the details, let me fill you in on some background (if you don't know me personally). We live in Gurgaon, my husband works for an MNC, I also worked in the consulting space for 8 years before giving up my job to take care of our two lovely sons.

We got married in November 2007, after a short whirl-wind courtship of four months. Ours was an arranged marriage but believe you me, by the time we were getting married I was completely in love with my husband. We were constantly in touch with each other over sms (there was no whatsapp at that time), calls and caught up on coffee dates once or twice a week.

Coming from a conservative background I had to seek permission from my mother every time I wanted to step out with my hubby-to-be. At that point we used to look forward to catching up in person, I used to put some thought into what I would be wearing and thoroughly enjoyed our conversations over cups of coffee. He would expertly tell me to put brown sugar (instead of white) into my coffee to enhance the flavour. This was a regular affair and I loved the coffee and conversation combination.

Soon after we got married, I asked my hubby, "Would you like to have some coffee?" and he replied, "No, I don't like coffee". I was completely taken by surprise and enquired how he had managed to gulp down so many cups of coffee every time we met before we got married. He innocently replied, "To give you company". From that moment on I knew, there was more to him than I knew already and that I should expect more surprises from him.

Over the next few weeks I got to know him better and one of the pleasant surprises was that he could sing old romantic numbers very well, good enough to put a smile on any girl's face.

Thus, began my journey as Mrs Dutta!