I love to hate that Piggie

"Mom, it's a bit funny" 

My daughter told me followed with a funny snort. Most of the parents who have toddlers or a little more than that will understand what my daughter has been watching. 

In case you don't know, Peppa Pig is an adorable, chatty, cute and energetic 4 year old pig with her charming family. She has a little brother George, mommy pig and daddy pig with a big belly. 

But the more I watch Peppa Pig, I hate the little piggie. Why?

• Peppa Pig doesn't grow up. She has been a preschooler for years.
• That brit accent.
• When it rains, there are no muck-filled potholes and traffic jams. There are muddy puddles! The family jumps in them without worrying about messing the house.
• Peppa and her family have the best house, garden and neighborhood.
• The family goes to hills for picnics and hops on a camper van anytime for a holiday.
• She has so many friends who are so different from her.
• They make pizzas and cakes so effortlessly.
• Grandpa pig has the best kitchen garden and makes it look all so easy.
• School projects - ah! piece of cake
• Birthday parties - smooth
• The family can eat as much as they like! 
• They see wiggly worms, fireflies, parrots and the best of nature. They are experiencing childhood as it should be experienced.

Sorry for being this nasty whiny human. I love the show but hate it when I know I can't have even a teeny bit of peppa life. 

The emotional baggage of the second wave

The infamous second covid wave has been ruthless. Not too long ago, we (the urban Indians) believed that we were covid proof. We had achieved herd immunity and were above any variants. 

Everything that happened in the past two months has been a rude shock. Each day, as I heard of people struggling for oxygen, hospitals, life, I felt more paralysed. Some of us lost loved ones, some of us lost health but all of us lost hope. 

This variant defied everything that we had supposedly understood about the virus till now. 

During the first wave, each day we were flooded with messages from people (each posing to be a pandemic expert) on WhatsApp university and YouTube. Our days were filled with different concoctions, home workouts and healthier meals. The Instagram stories boasted of pilates at home, low carb recipes and ginger, black pepper and raw turmeric kadha.

We did all that and yet the second wave couldn’t save many of us. It stripped us of trust, self confidence and mainly the illusion that money can buy anything in India. We had to witness our disappointed doctors plead and lose their own lives.

The second wave will soon end and hopefully we will be better prepared for the third, if there’s any. But the emotional baggage of the second wave is so deeply embedded now that it will take the longest time for us to trust the entrusted. We aren’t sure of the right ways to manage our health. Not anymore. 

The disillusioned Indian

This post is predictable. It’s about venting out my anger, fear and uncried tears. 

Questions in my heart, I’m not sure who can possibly answer. This is the lowest low time for most of us. The events of this year have radically mutated my sense of belonging. I’m no longer the person who had tears swell up while singing the national anthem. This doesn’t feel like home anymore. Doesn’t home make you feel protected?

How did we come to this? 

Why are we grappling for basics?

COVID has been around for sometime. Why aren’t we prepared yet?

Where is the assurance that it will be over soon?

Where is the action plan?

How are the leaders allowing this to happen?

How can we be reactive to an extent of mercilessly leaving people to fend for themselves?

Why aren’t we lighting candles anymore? At least it gave hope.

I don’t indulge in political bickering, and I don’t take any sides. I don’t want this post to serve as fodder for a political debate. I want to be able to feel safe again. 

On Republic Day, each year, we put up a show of our armed forces. I want to see our preparedness for pandemics and other medical emergencies. 

Once this is all over (I’m not even sure if it will be and if I will be there to witness it being over), I hope we are still seeking answers. We are still angry and unforgiving for making so many suffer. We are still invested in human life and so is everyone around us.

Letter to my future son-in-law

I turned into an emotional dynamite with a wedding in the family recently. It was fun, glum, exciting, bittersweet – basically it felt like emotions were on a wild rollercoaster ride. While I have a lot of respect for our rituals, there are some, I feel, are no longer relevant. Therefore, I am compelled to write to my future son-in-law. I might write to my future daughter-in-law someday but basically (if you are reading this)  do whatever you feel is right (and if I turn into the evil grumpy mom-in-law someday then just make me read this).

Dear future son-in-law,

Congratulations on getting married to the most beautiful girl in the world. I love her so much that I could have gotten married to her myself and made her sleep over me till my last breath, but I think she needs a break from me.

You need not call me something you do not feel so you can refrain from calling me ‘mom’. It will be a big deal if we can have a friendly chat over coffee. As you wed the best person, I hope we can celebrate together, perform rituals that are meaningful and not regressive and patriarchal. 

There shall be no ‘kanyadaan’ (and I have been thinking about it before Dia Mirza). We do not possess our daughter and cannot pass on someone we do not own. Redemption of our sins will not come from donating our daughter, but with good deeds. Back in the days, father would handover the responsibility of their daughters to the groom. I am sure that my daughter, like most daughters, will turn into someone who takes her own responsibility and manages a relationship of equals with a lot of maturity.

She will not throw rice on her ‘vidaai’ as there is no need for her to thank us. We bring children to this world for our own gratification and then expect gratitude. How unfair. She is, and always will be our extension, and there is nothing in the world we would not do for her.

This letter might sound feminist today, but I hope by the time you read it, it’s pertinent. It will take a long time for me to accept you since you are taking my heart away. I will, however, start to like you if you indulge her like we do, and be the reason that she smiles every day. Do not compartmentalize her into your or someone else’s expectations but let her be. One of the perils of having kids late in life is that you are not sure how long will you be around. But I am glad that you know how I feel and will honor it lest you want to be haunted.

From a MIL who can hopefully be your friend someday,

Shilpa 

Letter to Shreya on your 5th birthday

 

My doll,

Happy happy birthday. I will not spew the regular ‘time flies’ stuff. But soon enough you might be reading these letters, and I am not sure if I am happy about it. 

Who would have thought, 5 years back, that I would have this little creature interrogating me for everything? Who would have thought I would have to explain this tiny woman the reason for wearing new clothes? 

In this unusual year, we experienced more time together, more hugs and more relaxed routines. From online classes, to playing together, to our chitter-chatter, I spent more time with you, and experienced the most bizarre ‘hate you’ ‘I can’t live without you’ relation between you and Shivansh. I turn into a monster, referee, teacher, friend, hugger, child, and mom on the same day. 

Shreya, while you are a bright missy, but you are rigid. You want everyone to do as you wish, particularly Shivansh. As amusing as it might seem, but as you grow, I hope you become flexible, open, and more adaptable for your own good. 

I hope I can give you my eyes so that you see yourself as perfect and flawless. I wish you believe in yourself and dream big. As we grow, we somehow learn to distance from people who really matter. Never distance yourself from Shivansh, talk to each other, and always support each other, no matter what.

You will always be my forever love.

Letter to Shivansh on your 5th birthday

Happy birthday my handsome boy. You detest cuddling and kissing (already), but nevertheless I will force myself to give you all the kisses and hugs till I can. Deep down you are a sensitive, caring and extremely sensible little boy. 

Since we are girls and boys team (as Shreya puts it), you are your dad’s team. But when you hug me or hold me when you are vulnerable, the mommy me melts a thousand times.

When you grow, I want you to remember a childhood where you were always heard, felt important and got our undivided attention. I want to give you warmth that will last even in times when I am not around. So, I apologize for each time I got impatient with you for calling out ‘mama’ for the 845th time or for times I did not answer your question. There is nothing more that I enjoy more than talking with you, fooling around or to answer your questions or to even tease you. You should always ask questions, be curious and keep learning. 

As this year coerced me into teaching you, I got paranoid with the academic pressure, yelled at you, and scolded you as well, and as I write this, I feel it to be absolutely unnecessary. Sorry for all those times and remember that you will always catch up with academics, but I really want you to discover your axis. 

I experienced the love of a brother and sister with the two of you. Remember, no matter how old, this bond is like none other. I wish you both are always there for each other, just like you were in your mommy’s womb. 

From a mom who is obsessed with you.