family

Overcoming Fear: A Personal Journey

/ novumlorem / Leave a comment

What is it about fear that is so paralysing? It could be something like a spider or cockroach, or fear of someone or a situation. Whatever it may be, for people living with fear, there is nothing small about it.

All it takes is a mention and it’ll cause your hearts to start beating so erratically, just like they do when you see someone to whom your heart belongs to, but this is the exact opposite. There’s sweat and palpitations too, but nothing feels romantic. It’s debilitating to the point that either you freeze in your place, or run far far away in the opposite direction so that it doesn’t catch up to you!

I had such debilitating fear of people who birthed me until recently. That is 36 years of me trembling in my boot straps and girding my loins to face them, even for a voice call. My husband of 8 years has supported me no matter what, even though he tried to get me to understand that they no longer have any power over me, I refused to listen to him or understand; I could barely stand him talking to me about them, such was my fear and disgust.

A year ago, I had a breakthrough; an epiphany if you will. I finally realized (about time) that these idiots have no power over me; not any longer, that whatever power they had, had been broken off a long time ago.

By this time, my long suffering husband, had quite given up explaining and being understanding. During the realization, I had a word vomit conversation, where all he said at the end of it was “Thank you God!. You truly are remarkable”. He was growing weary of propping me up at the most inconvenient times, times when he required me to be a little bit stronger. In no way was he getting tired of me or thought I was weak, not at all. But I think there are times when the other half in a relationship requires and expects a little more strength from their partner.

There have been setbacks where I thought it would be a cakewalk, like having a realization was enough for me to break free. I was sorely mistaken. There was an incident this year, where during a family members wedding, I watched the brides family, especially her mom dote and pamper and the family come together in harmony and love to celebrate their child. I swear, my heart broke again. Where I had been sure of being on the path of healing, this one incident pulled me back from the progress I was sure to have made… everything in me just splintered. I had a severe crisis of faith and in my self in identity. I wallowed in it for months.

Who am I?

Who AM I?

I have never felt more like an orphan than I do now.

Now, again, I’ve taught myself that the fault was never in me. It is a lacking in them. It was never me. I had never given them a reason to hate me. Never. In fact, I bent over backwards, made myself more invisible and only did what they told me to do. I thought and hoped, maybe, just maybe, if I did everything just the way they wanted, I would be loved. Such was my greed to be accepted.

Thank God they don’t love me. Because now, I know what love is. Love of parents; my friends’ mothers’, my wonderful in laws. They have shown me what an elders love is and it definitely isn’t fear inducing.

As I write this, I write with hope and prayers that this will reach the people who needs to hear this, those who are lonely, alone, hurt, abandoned, abused… you were never the problem.

And I also want this will be a reminder for those who have overcome such fears, Bravo!! You are all heroes!

Remember, no fear is too big or too small.

Until the next time…

When proximity = Unwanted familiarity

/ novumlorem / Leave a comment

I don’t understand human nature… are we always selfish and gossipy and judgmental? Why? Like what pleasures do we derive from this? Not that I haven’t gossiped or bitched! Of course I have! But I hope and I try to remember the good deeds they’ve performed and always, always try to give them the benefit of the doubt before I try to say something negative about them.

I had stayed with my in laws for a couple of months last year. My sister in law was about to give birth and asked for my emotional support, to which I readily agreed to (she’s my friend too). I knew what she was about to go through; the sheer physical and mental exhaustion; alongside the people who would come with a whole lot of unwanted and useless (at that time) advices and critiquing the methods of parenting, yada yada (you know what I am talking about).

So the baby was born, named and brought home. We tried to support her the best we could; staying up nights, waking up early, the endless diapers, the hormonal meltdowns, the feedings, we helped as much as we could while also paying attention to my 4 year old.

Three months later, thankfully, my sis in law had recovered quite well from the birthing journey and had been managing the baby quite well when the above mentioned crap starts! Not from her at all! She’s a sweetie! But, from other people, about my own parenting.

A little back story; my kid is extremely active. Like he’s an energizer bunny who’s sweet, naughty, intelligent, caring and kind. My in laws are slightly elderly people who can’t keep up with him. So in the initial times after the birth of the baby, I used to put him in front of the phone to distract him after I played and gave him attention and all. In the beginning when I was fully involved in helping out, nobody said anything. Then came the lashings, apparently he’s in front of the phone too much (not true); I am not feeding him properly (not true again); he just doesn’t like to eat rice and curry all the time, and fruits have become a picky contest. He loves his fresh juices though. He just doesn’t want to chew them. And I am spoiling him by not feeding him fish, spices or variety. Oh and my personal favourite, he’s too malnourished!!! Again not true, his paediatrician is quite happy with his growth and (let’s knock on a lot of wood) he’s a healthy child! On and on the hamster wheel had started to run.

Nobody tells you that the hardest part of parenting is not the child themselves, it’s the other people and their unsolicited advices; the judgment! Why can’t people just shut their traps? Why can’t they leave you alone? When does it stop? Why did it start? Who thought dissing parents was fun?

Am I being too sensitive or has it become normal that people don’t even recognize how much of a bad behaviour this is?

Wannabe Parenting…?

/ novumlorem / Leave a comment

What is being tough?

My sperm and egg donor recently advised me to be more “soft” with my child. All he saw was me being firm and telling him no. They haven’t seen the hours or the days, where I have sat with my baby and negotiated or pleaded and begged and cried with him because he doesn’t understand what he wants and how to express it. All he saw were the times I raised my voice, or yelled because of the endless whining and screaming, and there’s only so much my ears could take before they bled out! They never saw the self-recrimination nor the guilt and resulting tears that had me questioning my own worth as a good parent. Never!

I wanted to ask them, what is soft? What do you know of speaking softly to your children? Or even listening to them, no matter how trivial the matter seems to you?

Was it soft whenever you taunted my existence, and being the cause of your financial constrains?

Was it soft when you would beat me black and blue for being a child?

Was it soft when you always pitted me against your son, the heir to your fortune?

Was it soft when I used to cry in pain after hearing you berate me for being stupid or god knows what, and you told me to stop shedding crocodile tears?

Was it soft that when I was 14, the tutor you appointed started making sexual comments towards me, but I couldn’t tell you anything because a) I didn’t exactly understand why his comments made me uncomfortable as nothing was said outright and b) you would say that I encouraged it?

Was it soft when I was 17 and some perv, made aggressive sexual advances towards me, walking home from my friends place, and tried to grab my hand! And when I built up the courage to tell you both about it, you said I imagined it?

Was it soft when you would allow anybody and everybody to comment on my “average looks, my pathetic body, and under average intelligence”?

Was it soft when you told me I couldn’t pursue my higher studies because I had to get married alleviate your burden and people’s questions?

Was it soft when you started blaming me for your “ideal proposals” rejection of me?

Was it soft when you tried to force me to marry 2 assholes one after the other even though they didn’t like me at all and went on to malign my character and my morality?

Was it soft when you mentally and emotionally abused me, and didn’t stop even when I shut down to the point I wouldn’t leave my room?

Was it soft that even I was at sitting in your house and you accused me of bringing shame to “the family”?

Was it soft when my egg donor decided she was going to “expose” my reason for refusing to marry said assholes, was my “relatioinship” with one of my bff who happened to be a male?

Was it soft when finally God gave me a good partner and family, you still tried to continue to bring me down from afar?

If that is soft, then I am extremely happy that I am not. I am glad that my experiences with you, taught me how not to be parents like you? I am happy I am not soft.

Not that your opinions on my life and my decisions are my problems any more, but you don’t see how my child calls or looks upto me.

You don’t see the love or the trust in his eyes. You will never, ever see him flinch when raise my hand to cup his tiny little face.

You will never him hesitate to ask for anything and everything, and though he may throw tantrums, (he’s 3!), when refused, he’ll never stop asking or hoping, because he knows, his freedom to do so will never be snuffed out!

He will understand when he’s a little older that boundaries and rules are there for his safety, till he can navigate this world by himself. That disciplines are enforced so that he’ll learn how to behave and act and still have fun, but not at someone’s expense. And that kindness and empathy and support should be given to himself first and others later. And through all this, that our words and actions and thoughts have consequences, good or bad; that our steps, even if you can’t help someone, should never bring harm.

I’ll be the parent you never were. I’ll be his rock, his foundation, his pillar, his gate, his shield, his wailing wall, his trampoline, his guiding light, his home, his embrace, his ears, his lighthouse, his anchor, his compassion, his kindness, his protector, his bulletproof glass, as long as I have breath in my body. And that, you pathetic, washed up excuses for parents, will never ever take that away from us! God willing, ever!

What if…?

/ novumlorem / Leave a comment

What if my parents had been accepting of me, and not just my brother?

What would have happened if my first memory at the age of 4 hadn’t been about how expensive I was, what a financial burden I had become? Would I have been happy to come home if I hadn’t seen my mother’s lips pinch, in disapproval, every time I displaced an eraser or came from school with soiled clothes?

Would I have pursued art as my career if I had heard words of love and encouragement when I showed them my drawings and paintings rather than comparison with other kids of my age, how they did stuff better?

Would I have learned how to take care of myself better if they had held me tight and given me tips and guided me through my acne prone, painful high school years instead of hearing how ugly I was, and how disgusting I looked compared to clear skinned girls of the same age?

Would I have been proud of my chocolate-coloured skin if they had helped me accept my it instead of berating me for playing too long in the sun?

Would I learned to choose better styles if they had helped me accept my body instead of shaming me for my curves so that I would develop the habit of hiding my body in oversized, frumpy clothes and developed a slouch so that I could be invisible.

Would I have learned to be more compassionate towards them if they had protected me from themselves and against those who voiced their meanness to me and adding things to laugh about me, in my face?

Would I have been successful in something if they hadn’t repeatedly told me I would be nothing?

What if?

What if?

Disclaimer: Not a spoilt brat writing! My parents are very well off, these instances always applied to me, not to my brother.

Persuading him

/ novumlorem / Leave a comment

“Please try to persuade him to come, for my sake”, pleads my mother.

“Do you really think Hrishi will set his foot where the presence of your wonderful husband is guaranteed?” I asked incredulously.

“This is your father we’re talking about!!”, she cries.

“Sperm donor, you mean?”, my voice hardening. “Nothing this man has done or said in our entire lives screams ‘father of the year’. He has always complained about how we have ruined his life; about how expensive we are, we were just a financial burden!! And, moreover, do you really think that we are willing to be in the same room as him, let alone exchange words of any kind, after what happened two years ago?”

“He says he’s willing to forgive and forget?”, she informs me.

“Forgive and forget?”, I scoff. Forgive and forget what exactly, mother dear??? What is it about our actions that he has to ‘forgive and forget’??”

“You all started it!! We were having a good time. With the baby’s birth and us being together during the initial lock down, we were happy altogether”.

“Are you delusional?!” I exclaimed. “Did you suffer from any kind of head trauma in the couple of months since I last saw you?? He was absolutely out of control!! He slammed the door shut on your son’s hand! Just because he dared to question him about scheduling home repairs after we came home from the hospital!! What does that tell you?!”

She didn’t say anything. I should have known. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My mother, the Queen forgive and forget, but only when it suited her the best. How could I have ever believed that she would ever start supporting her own kids and not that monster wearing human skin!! Ugh! I was so done with this conversation; anymore, and I knew I would need a couple of shots of tequila or a whole bottle of wine. Since I was still breastfeeding my baby, that option was moot.

“You know what, I am done! Done! You can continue your wifely duties, just leave me out of your drama. I neither have the time nor the inclination to be involved in this farce.”

“Farce? How can me talking about getting your brother back to the family be called a farce?! You’re so selfish!! How can you not understand how much I am suffering?” she moaned.

“You’re suffering? How? He beat you? Raise his hand? His voice? No, that was reserved for us; you? he just commands and you scurry around obeying his every command without uttering a sound in protest. And then you take out your frustrations on me. Not even your son, but me. Well, I am done being your punching bag. Call me when you come back to your senses. Or don’t, either way I don’t care!”

I cut the call. Hung up my phone, delicately, with an eye on my husband who was rocking our son. At his nod of reassurance, I walked away quietly, found a pillow and screamed into it till I found a semblance of control.

I knew this wouldn’t be the last time she would put me through this. So, I would spend the time till the next call, finding the strength to shore up my defenses against her thoughtless words, actions and efforts. I would find the strength; I couldn’t do anything less. For my husband, for our son, I would face whatever was thrown in my path; I would fight my demons, all day, every day, till the next time. I will fight! I would fight!

Under the Microscope

/ novumlorem / 2 Comments

I was born and brought up in Dubai. Being a NRI (non-resident Indian) is quite the experience. Being a woman and NRI is out of the world. Here are a few things I’ve learnt, on my own or through my friends…

  1. Girls should not hug male members in public, even though they may your grandfather, brother or husband.
  2. Do not wear shorts, including knee length ones. Even if your parents and immediate family members are cool with it, the mauhalle waale (neighbours etc.) definitely will have problems. Not to mention the stares and whispers.
  3. Never question religious rituals. I once made the “mistake” of asking my mother why they waste litres of milk by pouring it on a stone idol flowing into the drain, when lots of destitute people, including young children are waiting outside the temples walls? Wouldn’t it e beneficial to give it to them; their stomachs would be relieved from the hunger pains for at least a while, right? Believe me when I say the expressions of horror would have burnt me had they had the power, and gasps of exclamation would have been heard throughout the city that day. Plus the lectures about respecting the Gods, and how I would have to ask for God’s forgiveness, failing which I would incur untold wrath. Since I am writing about this 2 years later, guess God thought my point valid.
  4. Girls should not talk or laugh out loud. Apparently doing so is considered as uncouth or disrespectful, God forbid. I still have no idea how that one works.
  5. We should never reveal the fact that we do not know cooking, or that we hate household chores. Or that we drink (BIG no-no); or have boys as friends, so on and so forth, you all get the idea.
  6. Be prepared for the assumptions that since you’ve been brought up outside, you don’t speak the mother tongue, eat the native dishes, and voicing your opinions on a subject is considered as being spoilt.
  7. Relatives will have an opinion about everything you do or want to do in life; education, clothing, how you behave, work etc.. Be prepared with PPTs if you decide to challenge said views or hold your silence forever.

I could go on and on about what’s wrong with people’s attitude. Thankfully people have started questioning the rigid thinking, so it is getting better.

Change is slow, yes?

Our Life on a Rainy Day

/ novumlorem / Leave a comment

The sound of rain is a most welcome one. For someone who was brought up in the desert, the smell of the earth after the first drops of rain is as intoxicating as the bouquet of 200 year old Scotch for an alcoholic. For the first time in a very long time, I arrived in India to a very pleasant weather; cool moist winds, bringing in the scent of clouds heavy with rain was a pleasant surprise after many years of dry monsoon, and I found myself wishing to a rain God (if there is one!), that the it would rain here rather than elsewhere.  And the rain God answered!!! By mid-afternoon, the rains started slowly but then gathered its full strength and went on till early next morning. It made the atmosphere cozy, something that only rains of this nature can create. My mum, sister and I, settled down to a typical rainy day behaviour armed with cups of hot tea (lemonade and chocolates in my case) and pakoras (fried vegetable fritters), for gossip/catching up sessions. Before my sister was married, and rains were plenty, there were always days like these; we would talk about our lives, our friends and troubles we were having at that time and discussions and argument would be plenty and be conducted at the top of our voices.

However this session yesterday initiated a new member into our routine, my one-month-old niece, Niharika. So, much time was spent on all of us observing the smallest gestures she did. My mum and sister had, what I am assuming to be a normal one, a good sentimental session on the joys of being a mother, which left me to be the one to run for tissues and the offerer of the shoulder, or just simply be enraptured by the baby. When the thunder was loud enough to scare her, we took turns rocking and soothing her, while the tea got colder.

This session also made us recall the times of when we had been younger and our grandma had been able, she would regale us with stories of her youth and her life. How she and my grandfather eloped almost 50 years ago; the struggles of bringing up 4 children; the fun they used to have running their shops; tales of their friends we are not inclined to believe at all (who would believe that old, grouchy, toothless, fiend Mr. X, had actually written poems for the girl who would become his wife, in order to woo her!!!!). In these stories, there were always lessons to be learnt; about life, love, how to manage ones’ responsibilities; how to have fun, to laugh, to enjoy life’s littlest pleasures; value one’s friendship, to never ever take advantage of a friend’s generousity and even if one had, to always remember that favour. Nowadays, she is mostly bed-ridden and under care, and cannot sit with us to tell us any more of those wonderful stories… but she has told us enough for us to pass on to the future generation; to our children, babies of our cousins and their respective spouses… something to be cherished, and remembered with love….