The Story of My Hair

Born with curly hair
Answer to mom's prayer
Who always kept it oiled
So it isn't spoiled

I was...her girl with the curls

The touch of her fingers
rubbing though each hair strand
She adorned my hair with ribbons
colorful clips or a hair band

I was...her girl with the curls

After I left school
I was expected to be cool
My short and trendy hair styles
Always got me smiles

I still was...her girl with the curls

My hair got playful and flirty
When I reached my thirty
My hair tied in a perfect bun, I was a pretty bride
She looked at me and her eyes filled with pride

Life became busy when I became a wife
Then two lovely kids came into my life
I still cared for my tresses
By staying away from stresses

I am a woman of my own
With years I have grown
While my hair has begun to turn grey
To my mother, I want to say

I was and I still am...her girl with the curls

Thank you mother-in-law

Thank you mother in law for not helping me bring up my second-born
         And there is no sarcasm in what I say
Thank you  for not staying on to take care of my kids
        while I went to work each day
For what you have given me, knowingly or unknowingly, is a blessing
        That my soul needed while I never knew
For what I got to live from that point was a life
        About which I had no clue

I brought my second one up on my own instincts
       Little nervous may be, but no real fear
I did not miss the first smile, the first crawl, the first step and the first babble
        All that there was, to watch and hear
I learned and loved to be hands-on everything
        The divine pleasure of breast-feeding, bathing, cooking, feeding and even singing

Leaving behind the guilt that pierced me while I worked after my first born
        I try my best to compensate what was lost by my first one
Being there to pick them from the school or the bus-stop
        Playing, sleeping, even doing nothing with them is great fun

Covering the journey from the board room meetings to bringing up kids
        I have come a long long way
Traveling, painting, reading, writing and bird-watching came along
       Not a bad deal, what do you say?

No achievements at work to boast about
        My personal bank balance does not rise
But for the guilt-free life and the richness of my soul
        It's  not a heavy price

I look back and smile when I remember that time
        And I know the realization may have been slow
But clearly the turning point of my life was
        when you said that 'No'

Rakshabandhan Rocks

The concept of 'Mother's Day' and 'Father's Day' is as alien to me as 'Diwali' is to any American. Though these adopted festivals have picked up acceptance in India, the age-old traditional festivals have an exclusive special place in my heart. If I have to explain Rakshabandhan festival in simple words to someone outside India, it can be described as a 'Brother and Sister Day'. But for us Indians, it is much more. It is the 'celebration of the bond' between a brother and a sister. It is not merely sending an 'e-card' or a phone call. There are a lot of 'feel-good' rituals that go with it too.

For my kids, the meaning and depth of the relationship is not yet understood, for them it is about getting a 'mickey mouse rakhi' or a 'car rakhi'. It means eating chocolates and getting gifts. But for us grown-up's it is an entirely different feeling.

Consciously keeping away from the recent commercialization of the festival, I was happy to chose a 'traditional Kurta' to gift to my brother. I know he loves the kurtas from the 'Handloom House', so it was an easy task. I spent sometime selecting from the choice of available designs of Rakhi. I know he is choosy about what to wear and what not to wear even when it comes to a rakhi. That's how he is and I tried my best to select what he would like. I selected a couple of them, before I came across the 'sandalwood' rakhi. I knew he would love it and picked it up too.

Unfortunately, the chocolates that I had picked up got melted by the time I reached his house in Noida. More importantly, he was very disappointed that I had not brought the traditional sweets. I was speechless for a moment. Suddenly a lot of our childhood memories flashed through  my mind. When we stayed in Gole Market, my mother used to send us two to the 'Bangla Sweet Shop' to bring the sweets of our choice. I have seen my brother go through the different choices on display with lot of interest and almost always he would decide to buy an assorted collection of as many bengali sweets as possible. 'Buying and eating sweets' was half the fun of the festival. Adulteration in sweets and 'health consciousness' has taken away the biggest pleasure of festivals.  But I felt guilty. Next time, I am celebrating the festival with traditional sweets, even if it means making some at home.

My mother advised us to stay away from 'expensive gift exchange'  and we agreed. My brother took me out to the Mall to buy me a 'kurta-churidar'. It was lovely to go out with my brother, while my husband and bhabhi took care of the kids at home. This was the perhaps the first time, we went out shopping together after years. I am an un-usual woman who gets stressed even at the idea of shopping and it was such a pleasure to have my brother select the dress for me. I simply went by his choice. The dress he selected is very beautiful white and golden in colour. What is more important for me is that when I will wear it, I will be wearing the 'love' with which he selected the dress for me.  I felt like the most special sister on that day. That's the reason, I love this festival. It simply rocks.