Another one bites the dust!

So with Stg's introduction you know now that there are three of us trying to cram our thoughts on this blog (with only 3 posts in 3 years, maybe I should have phrased this better). The other two, my soul sisters, are accomplished bloggers with 2 or more blogs each. I'm the novice and unlike the other two who (plan to) contribute to this blog, I'm the the one with more mundane stuff on my mind: will people smile when they read this or will they snicker. Will they get the jokes or not. Should I write on issues of national importance such as Rahul Gandhi's marital status or on the more      lighthearted things like should we crucify pilots who like a drink before work ( after all how does it matter, if the passengers don't die in an aircrash, they will die in a road/ train / tram / ferry      accident, which we are never short of in India. Death never forgets, as the Final Destination movies like to remind us.)

E & Stg are no help, they write for their own satisfaction and as a log of their memories. But I can't get my head around this. I mean, why would you write if no one was gonna read. Do words and sentences mean anything if there is no one to interpret them. Or in other words , if no one smirks is it still a satire? Quite like the philosophical question that someone once asked me, if an elephant poops in the forest without anyone there to watch it, does it still stink?

But enough fooling around... in the five months that it has taken me to write this post  ( told you,am really bad at this ) things have moved very rapidly  in life. Four months back I was working very hard, trying to have a great career while also trying to be a good mom ( I know , I know but this is the way things were.... I was trying to have a career at the cost of being available for my child. ) . Somehow somewhere along the way, the entire plan collapsed, and am now on my way to being a SAHM, at least for the short term.

Am I unhappy? I was. Miserable for a long time with the future looming like a black void, the anguish of knowing that you are good but not being able to demonstrate it because you are so torn between your various roles. Wondering if the 'sacrifice' is necessary and /or worth it. Spent long hours debating with myself on what would be the best way forward and if the baby's rights were more important than mine (yes, I know, i'm one self centered b****). Well actually, it felt longer than it was . Just saw that E's last post was in February. Feels like a lifetime back.

So unhappy ( and radiating unhappiness with such intensity that nobody in a 100m radius could smile and whatever early spring flowers were around automatically wilted) and feeling wretched I was trudging along through the days. Then one day I had to take a leave from office and drop my son to school. When I went to pick him up his teacher, before going in to get him, told me he is super excited that his mom's gonna pick him up today. I mean here I was , debating whether it will make my son any happier if I quit and in front of me was my son , so happy that for once I had time to pick him up from school. Dancing around, he showed me off to his teachers and friends, saying “mumma aayi      hai (mom's here)”. He was excited all the way back from school and at home for the day. This from a child who sees me for less than 2-3 hours a day ever since he was 8 months old (weekends dont count) and is extremely attached to and happy in the company of his Nani.

Who could resist in the face of such Joy!

So the reason i'm writing this post is to remind myself in the days to come why I made the decision that I did. So that when am dying of boredom and questioning my wisdom in giving up a good job in a great company I can read this and see that I had very good reasons to. And when people arch      their eyebrows and say , 'oh you are a housewife' I can read this and remember his smile and be at peace with my choices.

The slog overs...

Taking the thread from the last post, as soon as these women got back from their we-don't-need-no-men trip, they took the plunge into babydom, got pregnant (one after the other - literally), had 3 beautiful children (one each, not three, thank you!!) and in their ultimate homage to M/s Ekta Kapoor and Karan Johar named all the kids with names beginning with "K". They enjoyed their time off from work, reducing (haha!) to mere suggestions of their old selves (being very sarcastic here - decoded to "put on a lot of weight"), thought and wished this time would never end and they can live happily ever after their bundle of joys (more on the "joy" later) with their bank accounts getting duly replenished every pehli tareekh...but it was not to be so..

And which is what brings us to this day..

Life's hit a low for all three of us, as everyday that we step out of our homes we question if it is worth it, leaving a crying baby to do a job that is a pain to keep and even more painful to leave- what with no interest in doing what we are to do, the uncertainty in the senior's eye, the suspicion in the peer's eye (and the wait in the junior's eye), the logistical nightmare that it is to just make it to office, the increasing clinginess of the child, the stretch, the stress, the constant worry about how all this is affecting our child, the strain of it all on our marriages... It took these babies to make us realize we did not enjoy what we were doing. Or did we? We were all reasonably successful in what we were doing - so were we enjoying the success that drove us to work everyday? Or is it that we did actually like what we were doing and now since it takes such an effort to be able to make it to work, we want to be doing something that really really excites and makes it all worth it.

Which also brings us to the question of why then all of us are still working.

Money - we have come to maintain lifestyles in line with the two incomes that come home every month, have gotten ourselves an eye for the fine things and have wishes that take only as much time to be fulfilled as it takes to get the credit card out of our wallets.

Recognition - At work places we are known to be us, judged by our intellectual capabilities (OK, not that so much because it takes a lot more to be there), our rewards are our own, earned by the sweat of our brows.

The time away - Honest people as we are, we admit it is a breather to get out of the house from the world of diapers and baby food and constant babbling and messes and crying and ..ok, you get the drift. To be able to get out of your sweats and dress up and have some adult conversations.

What are we doing about all these quandaries? Well, we are taking each day as it comes, finding bits of happiness and hope to keep us afloat everyday (and discussing it incessantly over emails and phone conversations)... I am not sure if there is a solution to it, probably it is something we just have to live through, probably things would be as they were earlier - which is also something that worries me...

The One Where They Run To Save Their Lives Or Their Modesty

Once upon a time, there were three women who decided to go on an all girls' trip and get "Independent, don't need men" stamped on their bio before they turned thirty or turned pregnant.

Like happy little squirrels, they charted out a grand plan... booking synchronised flight tickets to and from various parts of the country, scouting little known "exotic" locations within short driving distance of Bangalore and zeroing in on Horsley Hills, getting advance bookings done at the nice-sounding Governer's Bunglow, Superior Room, no less!

They spent the next few days dreaming of the promised lovely, deep woods, the long, winding walks, hot flasks of tea and good books to read.

D-Day arrived. Armed with backpacks, sturdy shoes, hearts filled with pride, and excitement that threatened to burst out of their chests, they headed to airports all across the country - Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore.

A day, a night, hours of gossip and lots of window-shopping later, they were on their way to HH.

Hooray for flower power. Three cheers for the biker (Ahem, Car) chicks. Make way for the nature birds. World, here we come.

The first sight of HH lifted their already soaring spirits further up. But the next brought them right down.

The men at the counter weren't exactly what you'd call friendly. They tried to swindle them out of the nice Superior room and give them a shabby little pigeonhole instead.

"Madaaam, there are only men in the next room. You see, aa? We will not be responsible if something happens, aa? I suggest you take the small room Madam. Only for your own safety madam".

Our three ladies conferred. "Sure, it's upsetting". "But who's to say the creep is even right." "I say we take it". "Yeah! I second we take it". "Sure, I third it!"

As you can see, our chicks are actually tough birds. Stirred, Not Shaken.

They got the big room alright. And congratulated each other and themselves. "If those men think they can treat us like silly little scared city girls, they have another thought coming. Scared? We?! Hah."

Of course they almost ended up propping up the heavy dresser against the common door that linked the adjacent room, Of course they made backup plans for where to run, hide and meet in case they were attacked in the dark of night. But that just counts as prudence. Not fear.

They then adjourned to the dining area for tea, snacks and eventually, dinner. Nice place, they mused. Good we did this, they hugged themselves.

Feeling benevolent towards the world and now a little ashamed of the backup plans, they started back for the rooms, a 1o minute walk through the sleepy little town.

Talking, Joking, Laughing.

Until ...
"Hush".
"Stop".
"Listen".
"See!"

An SUV passed them by. With four big, hairy men inside it. The one at the wheel looked drunk.

Hearts bursting, this time not with pride but with a bit of anxiety, they looked on. The car passed them by. False alarm. Phew. They let out the breath they were collectively holding.

For only a minute.

The car then stopped. And reversed. And drove back towards them. Heads down, they continued to walk, though at a quickened pace.

The car passed them again. And stopped. And reversed.

All pretences of bravado thrown to the wind, the three broke into a sprint.

Strategies were quickly discussed and discarded - to stay in the light to avoid potential attackers but at the risk of clear visibility, or to stay in the dark to mislead them?

Quickest routes were assessed and taken - the short but steep one, or the long but flatter one?

Not till they reached the relatively safe haven of their hotel, and not for some time after that, did the flutter subside.

The car came up right till the entry point, and then left.

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Two nights and days later, they returned proud owners of "Independent. But may occasionally need spouse to walk five steps behind".

The last sentence is in parentheses, small font, and ONLY to be shared when asked for. Hush!

Introductions, or something like that.

Not sure if we can call these introductions, given our mutual accord to not go into specifics, which include our names, our workplaces' names, our spouses' names etc etc.

But for what it's worth, we are:

E : The smart one. Hails from Delhi, Lives in Bangalore. With husband N.

• Has a penchant for dressing well, which is a far cry from her college days when her wardrobe consisted of one faded blue jeans and a few odd tees/kurtas. Can often be seen wearing dangling earrings.
• Capable of being icy when she wants. Not given to extremeties.Very balanced.
• Likes to think she sings well, but doesnt find her audience agreeing.
• Fond of painting. And is given to other artistic pursuits.
• Has a flexible body structure, ranging at times from "somewhat healthy" (purely in the matrimonial-ad-sense), to "chubby", to "sickly thin" to "just right".
• Her husband N is the cutest person living south of the vindhyas with roots in the great indian cowbelt.

S : The cute one. To be called SVB hereforth and forthwith, to avoid confusion with the other S (see below).

• Hails from and lives in Bombay (or Mumbai for the MNS' benefit). With husband S, a Bengali Bhadralok.
• Expectant mom.
• Would like to, and occasionally tries unsuccessfully to, be mean and nasty at times. But her efforts fall flat, in face of her incurable innate cuteness.
• Inclined towards reading.
• She was last known to be painting a bowl. Inference is she is given to arty-types stuff as well.
• As cute people usually are, she's chubby and has a skin to die for.
• Her hair is her nemesis, being all frizzy and stuff.
• Pretty family oriented in her actions.
• Shares a very cute and amusing (for spectators) relationship with husband S, wherein they are polite and far from demonstating any kind of emotion towards each other. Shy and cute :)

S : The hyper one. Or Stg, for future reference. From Delhi, in Delhi. With husband Tee.

• Likes to think she's cool. But ends up being fussy, hyper and, well, uncool. She likes to blame her parents, esp her mother, for it... what with being an only child and all.
• Given to music and movies.
• On the slim side. While people think it's in her genes (and she likes to maintain that impression), she actually works at it by watching the weighing scale like a hawk, every morning and every evening.
• Loses temper at a hat's drop. Comes across as friendly and pretty confident, but is insecure at heart. Gets hurt pretty easily. Given to sulking.
• Would like to grow up and is actively working towards it.
• Has been known to sport hair lengths ranging from waist length to cropped up. Currently hovering between a bob and a (ugh!) blunt.

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Posted by Stg