Feeling a bit low

My baby hasn't been well for the last four days. She caught a chill, probably on a two-day trip we took outside of Mumbai recently with the family - in any case, it's suddenly turned cold and dreary here, and she hasn't shown any visible signs of improvement for the last couple of days. She coughs and coughs, her nose drips, and she hasn't smiled for what feels like the longest time.

All this has put me in a rather contemplative mood. I might even be a little depressed - and I realise as I type this that I haven't felt this way in months - since she was born, I think.

I suppose I should feel lucky that I didn't go through Post Partum Depression - I definitely was very jumpy, tired, defensive and annoyed at people's advice and comments - but there has been this underlying euphoria since then. That euphoria is definitely overwhelmed by a grey cloud today.

I think many things are bringing it on for me just now. First and foremost, is the fact that Peanut is not well. For the first time in 5 months. Everytime she has had her shots, the doctor warns us that fever is likely, but it never happened. She was absolutely fine. A related point here is that my maternity leave is coming to an end soon, and I can't imagine leaving her behind, - and it's heightened by the fact that she is so out of sorts just now.

Of course, and this is the second thing that is bugging me, is the fact that it has been implied that 'Nazar lag gayi'. Of course, this is the very smart but uneducated maid talking, but I've also heard this from other sources in more subtle ways. This thing about superstition, knocking on wood, not saying stuff like 'she hasn't been ill before', nazar lagna - all this is very annoying. Is it my fault for not putting some lousy kala tika on her beautiful face that she has fallen ill? Am I inviting trouble again by calling her beautiful? What is all this nonsense that we believe in? Which century is this, again? Oh, and gee, thanks for making me feel guilty in addition to feeling sad about my sick baby.

But the third thing, I suppose, is this post I read today, which is really just so sad. I know I've been thinking too much about my baby's safety and am actually what my own mother calls 'totally paranoid'. But the thing is - if it's not some students shooting another classmate in Gurgaon, or a recent road accident in which someone just lost his fiancee when a truck rammed into them on Lodhi road, or countless other incidents, then it's something just as random and senseless as this - a little toddler running around, falling and hitting his head, never to get up again.

Now, the thing is - I know most people would say that I'm just looking at the negative side of things. How you can never be prepared for everything. How you need to let go. How you need to live in the moment, and live without fear ( Jo dar gaya, woh mar gaya?). Or how it's all fate. Or God's will. Or a part of life. Or repayment for past sins. Or...I don't know, it's quite endless, isn't it?

The point of my writing this today is very simple:

How does someone make their peace with something like this?

And another related point - how does one live without paranoia of this sort, regarding something bad happening to your child?

I read a quote somewhere about how motherhood is 'when you decide to let your heart walk outside of your body'. This is the only quote I've found to be even remotely adequate as a description of what it feels like to be a mother. Most other words fail, especially when I try to articulate this feeling. So I usually resort to being flippant, lighthearted and write about the funny stuff.

But not today.

So, my dear Mashi. I was thinking that while we use this blog to remember and celebrate Bozo Dada's life - maybe you could also provide some perspective to younger mothers about these questions. How do you move on? How do you make your peace with something like this? And how do you live without being fearful and paranoid about your other child (yes I know Mini isn't a child anymore, but she's your child always, right?). That'll be another useful thing to know - how motherhood evolves as your baby grows into a toddler, and then a school going child, and then a sulky college-goer, and finally, an adult. When exactly do you stop worrying? Does it stop at all? How does this thing work? But I am getting ahead of myself and asking too many questions - it's just that they're all related in some way, aren't they?

Please write about this at your own pace. And of course, only if you want to. And by the way, I've been feeling since we started this blog that I never really knew Bozo Dada at all. I would really love to know more about him, his early days, what you remember of him as a baby - everything. As you find the time to write about him. All I know is that he was such a wonderful person - who I missed out on. It would be really great to know him through your memories and thoughts.

Happy New Year. Love you.

The Coolest Nerd

This is the Brat here...Ummm...I mean 'Y'.

So, really strange thing, actually.

I was just pottering around Pandara Park with nothing to do, recently, and chanced upon a little red diary - in which I seem to have written all kinds of crap when I was younger.

And the very first entry on the very first page is a poem making fun of the esteemed biggest brother - clearly it was a time when I was particularly jealous of his talents, and during that period, would insist on calling him a 'Nerd'.

Further, I have a feeling that he told me something about how the greatest poems must never rhyme ( now, I remember him saying something here about 'An Ode to a Lump of Cheese', but my memory fades out again...sigh...).

Anyway, my childish handwriting (which hasn't really changed much) in the book says:

''(99% Sweat, .1% Inspiration, .4% Feeling, .2% Boredom, .3% Bozo)

Bozo is Back
Woe, Alas, and That is all,
Because this Poem Mustn't Rhyme,

I sit here feeling sorry
For the nerds of this world
There's no denying, but they keep trying,
They're Nerds...Nerds...Nerds...''

And that's it.

How Irreverent! How Rude! What a Brat I Was!

But what fun we had!

Aditya Deb...Coolest Nerd I've ever known :-)

A Brat's Memories

I am posting this on behalf of my cousin Y, who is one of my closest friends, 6 years younger than my brother, less of a brat now (much less!!!) and expecting her first child in July... And here's a picture of Dada and Y... she had just finished tying some ribbons in his hair, hence the dorky look on his face!!!

Now, Mashi, why would you give a name like Bozo to the most un-Bozo-ish person around? But it's a very sweet name, anyway!

I thought I would have lots to write about but I guess I really don't. I have gone through all the posts and comments carefully and can tell that getting it all out is a great thing. But I can write only about the very few things that I remember.

I never got to know Bozo Bhaiyya (yes, he was more 'Bhaiyya' than Dada to me) as well as I should have. He would just sort of turn up once in a while at Pandara Park. I would typically only know he was here, when I saw him shaving at the wash-basin in the morning – but it was always nice to have him around, even though I didn't really quite understand what he was all about – hadn't met anyone like him, you see!

For one, he picked up a guitar that was lying around – I was trying to learn it at the time – and he said he didn't know how to play – and proceeded to play what sounded like a very intricate and beautiful tune, to my young ears. I was amazed that someone who 'couldn't play' could sound like that. I have other faint memories, one of which involves a huge book, with almost all the Beatles songs, lyrics and chords – was it his, which he lent to Abhi, or something? Don't remember and don't know where that book is, either. Was he a big Beatles fan? I think he was but don't remember this clearly.

I do remember one time when I happened to write him a letter with a Rakhi enclosed – he was so touched by it that he sent me a present – a subscription to the magazine 'Connect'. Now, he was clearly intelligent beyond comprehension but I was a fairly stupid kid – and couldn't understand what the magazine was talking about, so made a disparaging remark about it one time. He smiled and casually asked me to go and hang myself and the topic was closed. Even after he passed away, the magazine just kept coming and coming – I don't know how long he had subscribed to it for me. I tried to appreciate the magazine after that but I still couldn't and in fact, every month's arrival filled me with a feeling of guilt for telling him that I was planning to use it for firewood! However, I like to think it didn't bother him at all because he was way too smart to have his feelings hurt by some ten year old smartypants. But then again, he was sensitive enough to be touched by a simple Rakhi in the mail, so am not sure. Anyway.

He had this amazing knack of telling jokes with a completely straight face, of course. I remember one particularly horrifying 'Dead Baby' series – I was so taken with these that I wrote them down in my diary for future reference. It doesn't seem all that funny now, 15 years later, especially to me now that I am expecting – but the point is – he was incredibly funny and I haven't actually seen that kind of sense of humour in anybody else – ever.

My memories are all mixed up and very sparse; I realize that as I try to write this. Maybe it will get clearer over some time – will try again then.

Love you, Mashi and Mini!

Y