Mystery of My Missing Husband

I woke up and with one eye still closed picked up my mobile phone to check the time. It was 6:50 AM. I would have probably rolled over and snoozed for ten more minutes had it not been for a Whatsapp message from my husband.

There was just one word, “Boarded”.

Boarded? Really? Where? I don’t remember him telling me about any trip. Did he send the message by mistake? By now my eyes were wide open and mind racing. I vaguely remembered him shaking me in my sleep and telling me that he was leaving. What time was that?  He did not mention anything about where he was going or when he was supposed to return. He must have gone to the gym.

I looked at the message again to check the time. It had been sent at 5:00 AM. I called his number. His phone was switched off. Where did he go?  Unable to believe that he could have flown away to some place I was unaware of, I started searching the rooms for evidence. What should I look for? His shoes? The usual travel bag? Oh! The laptop bag! I looked for it at its usual place. It was not there. Finally, it was confirmed, he had left. But Where?

He travels frequently, although I detest it, I am pretty used to it. But, this was a first. Never in all these years, had he left without telling me where he was going. Even if it was a day trip, I always knew where he was. As I washed my face, I felt the urge to cry. 

How could you forget to tell me about this? You could have told me last night! This is not done. I was already framing the angry sentences in my mind. A tiny voice inside my head smirked, “So, after two kids and 8 years, this is your marriage?” Na, this is just him and it’s a one-time thing.

Really? Was it just him? Or was it me too? Always with the kids or talking about the kids. Did I get so engrossed being a ‘Mom’ that I ceased to be a ‘Wife’? Did we become ‘parents’ and forget how to be a ‘couple’. Did I squeeze my ‘husband’ out of ‘family’? Did I give ‘us’ a fair share of time and attention? Was I really 'listening'?

When was the last time we really ‘talked’ to each other and not discuss the kids? Hmm, I could only remember talking about school, homework, dinner, classes, groceries, weekend activities etc. Somewhat like subsistence communication. Just getting things done and moving on, one day at a time. Well, that’s how real life is mostly. Maybe? 

I don't know the answers yet, but hopefully I am looking at the right places.

Do share your thoughts and experiences in the comments section.

P.S. Just in case you are wondering...he had gone for a short work trip which he had told me about weeks in advance (but wasn't sure of then). While I had forgotten about it completely, he did not mention it even the evening before leaving.

Kem Cho? Maja Ma!

A post on my second home and how Mr. Dutta doesn't cease to surprise. 

An integral part of being Mrs. Dutta is visiting Ahmedabad on a regular basis. It had been home to my hubby for several school and college years and still is home to his parents. Through these numerous visits over the years I have begun to love the city as a second home. Now, if you stay in Ahmedabad you may not notice it but for a person coming from outside there are certain things that stand out and I have liked every bit of it.

To me, Ahmedabad stands out for several things, its plethora of sweet and savory food (mostly homemade) including dhoklas, khaman, khakhra, fafda, kachoris, aamras, shrikhand, chunda and many more. I have found people to be much simpler in their food habits, dressing and lifestyle. Weekends are usually spent with family at the club that have excellent amenities yet an extremely affordable menu. No wonder, unlike Gurgaon, people don’t feel the need to hit the malls every weekend.

In the absence of pubs (yes, it’s a dry state) and ‘night life’ as we typically understand, there is a late night ice cream culture and owing to that the presence of an ice cream parlor at every nook and cranny. ‘Havmor’ is omnipresent, somewhat like Starbucks outlets in Manhattan. Also, the night market at Law Garden is worth a visit. I have enjoyed bargaining and shopping for knick-knacks from there.

To a Delhi NCR person, I appreciate the ease with which women are seen comfortably zipping past in scootys even late in the evening. During Navratris, women are seen freely roaming the streets in backless chaniya-cholis late into the night, without the threat of being teased or ogled at. This is so comforting to see. Doing the same in Delhi NCR would be considered as ‘asking for trouble’.

Gujarat is amazing when it comes to handicrafts and customized clothing. If you can dream it, the boutiques there can create it and improvise on it, even if you are on a budget. Every time, I go to Ahmedabad with some space in my suitcase for shopping, I have often come back with an additional new bag filled with a bit of Ahmedabad in them. I blame it on Gujrat being high on the creativity and entrepreneurship spirit.

In Ahmedabad, I have found the definition of ‘far’ laughable. Everyplace is about 15-20 minutes away at the most, if not less. The roads are better than Gurgaon’s and there is relatively lesser traffic (although this is getting a little like the bigger metros lately). However, driving can be a little scary with an abundance of two wheelers and a total disregard for the traffic signals.

During our last visit, my husband and I decided to venture out in my in-laws car. It was a Sunday with limited cars on the road and like law abiding citizens we stopped at the red light. Within seconds we heard a screeching halt behind us. It was the car immediately behind us. We had been saved from getting bumped by inches. Even with the red light still on, the driver of the car drove away while staring at us and muttering under his breath. It was at that moment we realized that no GJ car finds it important to stop at a red light!

The very next day, while hubby dearest was trying to reverse the car in a narrow lane, a speeding scooter decided to squeeze its way in from behind. While nothing happened, the guy riding pillion started shouting in Gujarati and to my surprise, even Mr. Dutta responded in flawless Gujarati. Words and phrases in a language I never knew he could speak so fluently in nine years of knowing him.

For me visiting Ahmedabad is Awesome, hearing Mr. Dutta arguing in impeccable Gujarati Super Awesome! 

I Wished to Fall Sick

Wish I could fall sick, at least then I would get a break from the busy daily routine. The constant running to keep up with the clock…meals, school pick-up and drops, kids classes, my own work and so on.

Yes, it sounds silly but sometimes the idea of falling sick seems inviting, so I could stay in bed all day, be cared for and get pampered for a change instead of taking care of everything and everyone in the house. But, alas, we can’t choose the timing of falling sick, it just chooses us.

My silly little wish finally came true one night, accompanied with a sore throat, cough, runny nose and fever. However, the timing could not have been worse with hubby travelling and children still settling into their new classes. I was left with no option but to operate on “business as usual”, popping in more pills and gulping in way more tea than I would have done otherwise.

I found the otherwise sweet questions and calls for “Mumma” annoying but had to respond with a “Yes, Baby!” in as sweet a tone as possible, while I otherwise sounded like a croaking frog.

For a Mom, falling sick is a luxury. Hopefully next time I fall sick, it would be on a weekend, or at least when hubby is around to get the kids ready for school, pick and drop them, feed them, clothe them and patiently deal with all their demands and questions.

For now, I thank Crocin for helping me stay on my feet and helping me get through the week.

Stay Well, Stay Healthy fellow Moms…and if by any chance you are fancying the idea of falling sick, just take a break. You deserve it.

Touched by God on Shivratri

Today being Shivratri, a lot of Hindus visit the temple to offer milk, water, flowers, fruits and Lord Shiva’s favourite Bael leaves, Bhang and Dhatura. Somehow, I do not enjoy visiting temples on special days since it gets too crowded and noisy with devotees rushing to get their share of blessings first. Visiting a temple on festivals is akin to visiting stores offering big discounts. People enter in hordes, offer their prayers in a rush while jostling for space and then leave content with Prasad in their hands.  Some even push and elbow others to make their way first, yes, even the seemingly ‘educated’ and ‘cultured’ ones.

While I also visit the temple, I don’t always feel touched by divinity on these ‘special’ days. I much rather enjoy visiting temples on the “non-offer days” when there are few people in the temple. It has mostly been on those occasions that I experienced much greater peace, energy and joy, when I could pray as much or as little as I wanted to without having to save my toes from being crushed or getting nudged in the ribs.

Sometimes, I also experience divinity outside the temple. Last year, while purchasing flowers, bhang and dhatura from a woman sitting outside the temple, I saw a lady, dressed in a crisp white salwar kameez, probably in her early sixtees get off her Honda City, rush to the makeshift flower shop. There was a sense of urgency about the way she went about selecting what all she wanted.

“Kitne hue?” she demanded.

“Tees Rupaye (Rs.30)”, said the flower lady.

“TEES Rupaye!” The woman complained about the exorbitant price and claimed that what the lady was selling was probably not even worth ten. She dropped her basket of flowers and leaves angrily and got up to leave.

“Kya hua Mataji? Bhagwan ke liye le rahe ho, le jao”, the poor, most likely uneducated woman said politely.

I don’t remember the prayers I said that day, but I shall remember this instance for sure.

Today, I chose to go to a temple slightly towards the village, accompanied by my two little boys, I hoped for less people at the temple. My elder son spotted a balloon vendor outside and demanded one. I promised to buy him a balloon once we came out of the temple.

Although it was crowded with people mostly from the village it was well organized. I managed to get my three minutes with the Lord and came out without getting nudged, poked or stepped upon. Happily, I bought the balloon I had promised. Within a few minutes, even before we got to our car, the balloon burst. The other small children around him laughed. Before my son’s eyes could well up with tears I took him to the balloon vendor again.

“Bhaiya, wo to phoot gaya. Dusra de do” I said. Immediately, he handed me another one with a smile and refused to take money for it. Only after much insistence he took it.

Sometimes we are touched by God inside a temple, but mostly, outside it.

Being 4-Year- Old Again!

I had an opportunity to join my four year old son at school for his morning circle today. While I was in two minds to attend, I finally decided to go. As I entered the classroom, I spotted my son sitting at his desk, interacting with fellow students. He saw me and smiled, a smile that acknowledged my presence but also told me that he was not just my son here, he was a disciplined student of the class.

Within minutes, the educators began to sing a song and almost as if by magic, the children came around and settled into a circle on the floor to listen to a story. The story was of a seed that grew into a strong tree. Although the story was simple and meant for an audience of four-year-olds, I enjoyed it too and added it to my list of stories that I could tell my kids at home.

Once the story was over, the teachers again sang a song and got the kids to form a circle and moved out of the class for their morning prayers and circle time. It was remarkable to see the four year old students of Nursery conducting themselves in such a disciplined manner. I was also in awe of the educators for managing a class of almost thirty students so seamlessly, without a single instruction.

For the circle time the parents were also encouraged to participate and I, along with the other parents joined the circle just like the kids and their teachers. I recited all the prayers and songs and tried following all the hand and body movements too.

What I experienced at the time was indescribable. The energy, intrinsic joy and peacefulness I felt was unparalleled. It wasn't like anything I had experienced in a long time. I felt as if there was electricity running in my veins. Maybe, I felt like a four-year old child myself. I felt like spending the rest of the day in the class again, but unfortunately, that was the only glimpse I could get.

By the time I left the school, although I had a lot of questions on my mind, I felt a certain calm take over, a need to stop rushing my kids and myself all the time and believing that small children are capable of a lot more than we can ever imagine.

Momster!

Mostly parenting is joyful, rewarding and wonderful, just like the way we hear often, but there are also those days when patience wears thin, you have a million things to do and it takes just something seemingly trivial to tip the delicate balance of sanity.

There are times when you get tired of picking up the same toys, repeating the same instructions (a few hundred times), answering the unending questions and resolving quarrels between kids. There are times when the mantras of “Keep Calm, you are a Mom” and “This too shall pass” turn into, “I am a human being too”. There are the times when I find myself turning from Mommy to “Momster”, when I want to be mean, yell at the kids or ‘teach them a lesson’ the old fashioned way.

Earlier today, when my five and two year old boys got into a fight, the Momster in me unleashed itself, but within minutes the loving Mom re-emerged, cuddling and hugging my boys and calming them down.

Later, while scrolling through some old photos and videos on my phone I chanced upon a few moments from about a year ago. I was surprised to see how little my kids looked. I realized how much my children had grown in just a few months. My elder son had begun going to a proper school and he no longer looked so young. My younger son who had barely started walking a year ago is already speaking in sentences. He too joined a play school. I looked at them and my little kids suddenly looked all grown up.

I showed one of the old videos to them and we all burst out in peals of laughter. Just watching that video was a total stress buster and my heart was once again reprimanding me for being harsh on them earlier.

Parenting is not always fun, rather it is tough, it is full of ironies and paradoxes, compromises and trade-offs. And yes, it is also about turning into a Momster and then melting back to being Mommy again.

Many years ago, when I was fairly newly married, I happened to meet a simple man from a village who said, “In the village, we measure how rich a person is by the number of kids he has, not by his money.” I had found that statement amusing at that time. It did not make sense to me. But now, I fully understand what he said. If you are a parent, I am sure you understand it too.

What I Learnt From My Grandmother

In a home with working parents, my grandmother was my companion and caregiver from the day I was born. She did everything that a parent would and maybe even more. Apart from the usual things, she taught me Bengali poems, ensured I learnt dancing and singing and forever kept a watchful eye on me. As a little girl, I ran to her for comfort and every night I fell asleep with her hand on my back, breathing in her cool scent while listening to Bengali folk stories. With her passing away, I lost my childhood companion.

The day she passed away, my four year old son was miserably sick with dengue and I found myself torn between the ‘granddaughter’ and the ‘mother’ that I am. I felt as I could not even fully mourn her loss. As the days and weeks passed I kept thinking about her and even now sometimes it is hard to believe that she is not here with us in person. I also realize that her beliefs, teachings and blessings will always be with us. I can often recall her voice and even the phrases she would have used for certain situations.

From her, I learnt many things and here are a few I thought I will share with all my friends and family:

 Invest in your Health: Even up to her early eighties, my grandmother exercised every morning and strictly stuck to her routine meal timings. Even with age, she never gained any weight and maintained herself at 40kgs. She never suffered from diabetes or high blood pressure either. Her morning cup of tea included four teaspoons of sugar! 

Eat Well: Although she ate small portions and at fixed timings, she was particular about the food she ate. She was an excellent cook and prepared various delicacies and even her ‘khichdi’ tasted better than a lot of ‘biryanis’ available in the market. She had a special dish for every occasion and festival which she made herself till a few years ago.

The Fighting Spirit: She was strong willed and having single handedly brought up my father, she had learnt never to give up. She always encouraged everyone to work hard and move ahead in life.

Immense Love for your Children: Her love for her only child, my father was exemplary. Even when my father was turning sixty and she was over eighty, she went to sleep only after ensuring that he had returned home. To me, her primary parenting advice was, ‘Love your children whole heartedly’.

 
Speak Your Mind: She always expressed her thoughts openly. If she disliked something, she said it upfront. This sometimes made others unhappy or angry but her feelings were never hidden, be it praise or criticism. Sometimes, her words were bitter but at least she was not hiding behind a mask of falsehood.

I shall always feel my grandmother’s presence with me. Only the physical form wither, the person stays alive with us forever.

You may also enjoy reading another post on her I wrote earlier: Mother Extraordinaire