Letter to Shivansh on your 10th Birthday

 Dearest Shivansh,

More than a decade ago, I would read this quote from John Lennon on repeat-"Everything will be okay in the end, if it's not okay, it's not the end." After all these years, the realization dawned that the end was the beginning of getting pulled into a black hole. Sometimes joyful, sometimes irked, sometimes in trance, and a lot of times – angry. But all of it with a complete oblivion of time. I don't want to whine about how quickly a decade went by with you both– but it undoubtedly saddens me as much as it warms my heart.

My gulla – you've turned me into a baby as you pull my cheeks, saying she's so cute yaar. I don't know how Gen Alpha is wired so differently; you are anything but scared of me. You've turned into a full-blown entertainer with your funny comebacks and mischievousness. While you're funny, you're also deeply caring for the people around you. You're a kind soul who observes everything around you intently and is affected by the small things that surround you.

I realized something really important this year. Your achievements matter so much more than whatever I will now ever attain. As you won the first runner-up in the drawing competition, my heart raced, fluttered, and jumped out to walk along with you to the stage to pick up the trophy. I’m not sure I've ever been so proud in my life. I love it when you draw with such undeterred focus (keeping your tongue out) and have this urge to get better. Keep your passion going and master the art, my baby.

You're as perceptive as you're sensitive (a little too sensitive). As a mumma bear, I might have protected and pampered you a little too much. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s time to leave babydom, my little baby, and it’s time to get smarter for the big, bad world.  

On your 10^th birthday, I want to thank God a million times over. You are blessed to have a sibling to fight with, grandparents who love you both to bits, and a dad who does everything that fathers do and more. He’s been like a mom, a nanny, a driver, and a doting dad who never says no to anything that you ask for. Bua, Siddhi didi and Krishna bhaiya whose love and warmth you feel despite the distance.

Laugh, stay happy, and keep sparkling. My purpose is to always see you smile (and laugh).

Your cute and funny mommy

Letter to Shreya on your 10th Birthday

 Dearest Shreya,

No, no, no, no- I won't be sad or express my disbelief that you are already double digits. I will learn to adjust with it while looking at your baby pictures.  

Your birth (and Shivansh’s) made me hopelessly optimistic and relentlessly hopeful. It gave me the belief that everything comes at a time when you are prepared for it. You both have made me strong and given me the grit to keep going.

My sleepy head, you are a smart, driven, and nerdy kid. In your teacher’s words, you are a wise, no nonsense, and confident one who doesn’t like to yap (unless you’re with Shivansh). Everything you do, you do it with the intent to excel – academics, sports, and art competition. I was amazed to see your cool upon receiving a bronze medal in skating, as if you won one every month, while I wanted to tango with joy.

Over the years, your fixation on dominating Shivansh only grew. You presume that he’s not doing his work correctly, studying properly, writing accurately, or even breathing the right way. Interestingly, you don’t even like it if any of us reprimands him.  

As you enter the danger zone of becoming a preteen, I hope you don’t change. I feel immensely proud that you are confident in who you are and don’t want to change for anyone. In a world that relies so much on external validation, it is so important to have the confidence to seek your own validation. I hope you never have to fit in, and that you believe everyone else can adjust. Fly higher, don’t look back, as there will always be someone to pull you back, and there will always be someone to protect you. I hope you learn to differentiate.

Your warm hugs and sweet pecks keep me going. Continue to be the loving person that you are – but only for us.

Stay happy, my little one, and always stand firm in your values. And please stop growing up so fast. 

Thank you for choosing me to be your mom and bringing so much joy and pride to your dad, and grandparents. Love you more than the definition of love can ever define.

Your mommy

My nana, Uttam Chand Madan

To the world, you might have been the best horologist—bringing any watch to life—but to me, you will always be Chote Papaji, my Nana. It filled me with immense pride when you came to pick me up from school, and I would excitedly tell my teachers that you were my Nana. As a child, your visits meant dal samosas from Panchkuian Road and a trip to Nani’s house. And, of course, who doesn’t love being spoiled at Nani’s house?

You loved to walk and spoke so little, but your face always lit up when you shared stories of Partition. You always had something to give—whether it was toys, pichkaris on Holi, or crackers on Diwali. You continued the tradition even for my kids. Whether it was a scary mask or a car with lights, your gifts were always unique.

You could do yoga asanas that even the young struggled with. There was never a time I met you when you didn’t notice my watch. You were overjoyed whenever we surprised you at the Connaught Place repair showroom, and even more so when we brought you watches to fix. A visit to your showroom as a child inevitably meant a new toy from Ram Chander & Sons.

You were one of the rare few from your generation who were truly forward-thinking. You raised a daughter who was no damsel in distress—she drove around independently and had the freedom that most girls in those times only dreamed of. She was fearless enough to tell you that she had bunked school to watch a movie, and instead of reprimanding her, you offered to buy tickets for her and her friends the next time. You prepared your children well to withstand the storms and turbulences of life, and I will always be indebted to you because my mother raised me the same way.

You worked long past the age when most prefer to relax. While others became grumpy and fussy, you played with your great-grandchildren as if you were their age, and even had a sweet tooth like small children. In the last few years, you showed immense resilience and strength. They say home is where the heart is, and it seemed as though you left your heart in the place where you spent most of your life—but you never once expressed it. You built a strong family and were truly blessed with a daughter-in-law (my mammi) who loved and cared for you deeply and dedicatedly, more than anyone else.

I wish I had told you all this while you were still here, but I know you are listening. People say we should celebrate your life because you lived it well. But for me, there is no other Chote papaji, I will always feel your presence and each time I remember you, I will say, Hari Om.

Your first grandchild,
Shilpa

 

 

Letter to Shreya on your 9th Birthday

 

Dearest Shreya,

Happy Birthday, my PDA queen.

The more I hated it all my life, the more it bursts from you. You kiss me and pull my cheeks just about anywhere. Your intensity increases as I flush with embarrassment. However, I am told to enjoy it while it lasts, and that is precisely what I intend to do.

You are a sharp, intelligent, and witty little missy who still likes to control your twin. You are a quick learner and a delight for anyone teaching you. The annoying brother in your life is constantly doing everything he can to pester you. Why do I have to endure the most of your nonstop howling and pursuance to reprimand your brother? And when I do, you become his biggest supporter and side with him, transforming me into the monster mom. It's a typical brother-sister thing.

Every time you embrace me, run your tiny fingers on my face, and give me a peck, it is a moment of your expression of love, but for me, it is about loving myself for being so lovable to you. I cannot imagine I ever existed without you and Shivansh when you came into being just nine years ago. I draw my identity from you and everything that stands for love.   

You are the quieter one but one with the most heartwarming laughter. You are rushing to your teens with small external changes you embrace confidently. I wish you confidently shape your demeanor and build a strong character like the women in our family. My love, enjoy the last year of being single-digit and the innocence that surrounds it, for soon it will be hijacked by anxiety (like we saw in the movie Inside Out -2). Till then, we will hug like there's no tomorrow.

From a mom who will stay with you till eternity :)

 

 

 

 

 

Letter to Shivansh on your 9th Birthday

Dearest Shivansh,

Happy Birthday, my gulla.

My elder one – even if you are older by a minute, you definitely are hastening towards every milestone, even your teens. You fired me as a parent and thankfully rehired me this year, and you only respond to the 999^th time of calling you. And that, too, you react with a lazy ‘What?’ from your room as though I’ve disrupted your creative nirvana.

You draw all the time—in class, amid the teacher teaching you, and whenever you can. While I am still trying to get my head around all the monsters, demons, and skeletons, you are creating gory stories that are worrisome. Perhaps it is the generation gap divide staring back at me and asking me to gear up. I’d love to shape up your passion and turn it into something you will truly cherish.

You are an entertainer, and you love to make us laugh. You are a charmer with the funniest retorts and just the response that cracks up people around you. You have even learned to talk with your eyes and manipulate your expressions to get ‘devices.’ You mastered the art of pestering, playing pranks, and expressing love exclusively for your dad.    

 Your laugh is an antidote to our stress and worries, and I am proud that I get to be the funny mom who adds some laughter and hopefully makes your childhood happy. My heart melts a thousand times when you start narrating a story in an animated and spirited way. As much as I love seeing this child turning into an attractive little man, I hate that our shoe and hand sizes are the same, and perhaps by next year, you’ll outgrow me.

I know you hate it, but you will always be my red-cheeked gulla, whom I will squish and cuddle forever.

Determined to love and cuddle you forever, your mom

 

 

Letter to Shivansh on your eight birthday

Dearest cuddly bear,

Happy 8th Birthday!

You will be squished, kneaded, and snuggled no matter how much you hate it. My gifted child, you make me proud. Of course, you draw so well, but you are such a sharp visual learner. You are always drawing things you find interesting and things that get your attention. However, the issue is finding a piece of your drawing sneaked in every corner of the house.

With a deep sense of music, you have a knack for rhythm, love to tango, and make us laugh. As much as I sort of like the character you introduced, Bendy, the protagonist of the horror game series, I worry and wonder if it’s normal for someone your age to enjoy something so dark and grim.

As you laugh out loud as though there’s no tomorrow, I wish your liveliness is not lost to discipline, rules, and senseless benchmarks. Isn’t it ironic that we push you to follow the rules and chase more marks? We, unfortunately, live in a place that gauges the superficial and punishes if you’re naïve.

Let’s get outdoorsy, laugh more, be funny, hocus and focus, and not get lost in the futile race to achieve more. And just because you're not expressive (other than the time you wish to poop), doesn't mean you are loved any less. You are crazily loved, valued, and cherished every single microsecond.

From a mom who wishes you live life to the fullest knowing who you truly are! 

Shilpa

  

 

 

Letter to Shreya on your eight birthday

 My mush machine,

You learned the F word this year. While you obviously don’t understand the meaning, you definitely know it shouldn’t be spoken.

Happy Birthday, my sugar ball.

Lately, there's been a role reversal in the snuggling department as you pull my cheeks, hug often, and give frequent pecks as though I were your child.

Was it a decade back that I wholeheartedly prayed for babies, and isn’t that what I prepared for? I didn’t prepare for the arsenal shot at me these days dressed as a barrage of whys in response to the most minor requests. Despite the several parenting reels that I consume every single day, why is it that when a pre-teen attacks you with a tantrum or a retort, I convulse into the monstrous mom?

I find myself torn in opposite directions as one version struggles to keep you in babydom while the other wishes you were more independent and self-reliant. The baby mom cuddles you so tight, hoping you never go away, so close that you wouldn’t even think about it. And yes, I will eat your lil’ edible nosey one day.

You are a smart missy who loves to sleep and hates to eat. Not the typical girl but it seems you exist with the sole ambition of controlling how your brother walks, sleeps, writes, and responds. Both of your personalities are so codependent that I can’t imagine what you would both be when apart.

Sorry for putting you under academic pressure. I give in. I must work harder this year to help you find something that you absolutely love to do. I’d like to believe you savor the language, but I don’t want to imagine things or force them on you.  

Let’s make it right this year since time is passing quickly. Enjoy this day, which is the most special one for me. 

Love beyond love from your petrified mom who detests you grow so quickly,

Shilpa 

Letter to Shreya on your seventh birthday

 Happy Birthday, my dictator and drama maestro, Shreya

Sometimes I feel it's unfair to write these letters as so much happens in one year that I might miss so much trying to lock the memories in a few words. But I hope you will someday understand that it's mom's little effort to reminisce about your growing-up years.

You're an emotional roller coaster, so while you're all cuddly and warmest on your highs, you are annoyingly stubborn and unreasonable at your worst. I love when we sing my favorite songs before we sleep, and you mount your leg like you own all of me despite all my flaws, and each day I owe my peaceful sleep to your unconditional love.

However, at the rate you're getting snappy and entering the teenage-like zone, I fear you're growing unreasonably fast. You leave us speechless and stunned with your brilliant retorts.  

On your birthday, I wish you the lasting joys of innocence and childhood, lots of playtime, and time to discover the things around you and within you and find what you love. Never stop believing in fantasies and fairytales, as we attract what we truly believe. 

I wish you always have the freedom to express what you truly feel, and please, my darling, give Shivansh some respite from your dictatorship.

Love you with every neuron and cell,

Your mom

Letter to Shivansh on your seventh birthday

 My cuddly boo bear,

There’s no other creature as funny and cute as you are. And while mama would like to squish you, you’re growing with your boy-like traits too soon. You hate PDA unless it’s the zone-out hour with your dad.

While I’m glad you’re not turning out to be the rowdy and rebellious lad, I’m concerned about your screen addiction and restlessness. I hope we can expose you to better things, so you’re not addicted to anything and get calmer.

While your antics are amusing, and your humor is endearing, I notice you seek constant validation. I wish you so much self-confidence and a sense of being that you never seek external validation and find everything within. Remember that a strong sense of being is ever so important. I wish you more confidence like you made us incredibly proud this year with your super impressive oratory skills.

Thanks for being incredibly patient with your sister. You show immense bravery and courage in the face of her tyranny and interference with every thing you do. 

Let’s get you moving this year and give you an action-packed year.

From a mom who finds a great sense of being from you,

Mommy

A little more

A  little more time,

A little gaze,

Doesn’t seem mine,

But I like the daze,

A little escape again,

A little more self-deception,

A little more free rein,

A few more distorted perceptions,

Ah the rain to wash the little more,

Just one more daydream like before,

Yes it will be just one more daydream like before,

Then I turn to my thoughts no more.

Letter to Shreya on your sixth birthday

 My heartbeat,

These letters have started to feel like those icky letters from ‘kuch kuch hota hai’ but neither am I the saree clad ghostly Rani Mukherjee and nor is there a Kajol waiting for your dad (or is there). And never will you play cupid.

And this analogy should be enough to tell you the craziness threshold your mom has reached.

I was all prepared to be the goo goo gaa gaa mommy, but never did I prepare for this six-year-old authoritarian. You may look like a diva but you’re a tiny dictator who always has answers to leave me dazed. Like when I told you to mind your business, you looked back and told me you don’t have a business. And Shivansh must walk, breathe, and move as you please.

My little one, as we continue to be stuck at home in these crazy times, I wish I can give you a normal world soon. While our childhood was all about outdoors, exploring and failing, I’m concerned that you both are deprived of all this in the most fun years of your childhood. Let’s hope for normalcy soon.

And Shreya to be likeable, stop being a bully. It's alright if people around won't do as you please.

I wish you have the most magical birthday and hope that you stay away from all the structured learning that is destroying your imagination.

Love beyond all the love in the world,

Your hugie pugie mom.

 

 

 

Letter to Shivansh on your sixth birthday

My Punjabi puttar,

You’re a foodie, and whenever we want to indulge, you’re our go-to person. I love how you’re clear about what you want to eat and what you want to do and get done with it. No drama, no qualms. As hyper restless as you might be, it’s hard for you to focus (always has been).

I understand when it’s only natural to punch Shreya as the bully shrieks at you or irritates you through the day. But I’m deeply disturbed at how serious these fights are getting each day.

On the chilly morning of 2016, when this 2.5 kgs baby came squealing into our lives, little was I prepared for his growing addiction to gadgets a few years later. I wish normalcy returns so that I can let you explore the world beyond the screens.

You might feel ignored when there’s someone boisterous always around getting all the attention with her charm and tact. But remember that you have our undivided attention, understanding and love, whether we say it or we don’t. I just wish you grow out of your shell to become more self-assured, ready to be seen and heard in the pandemonium.

As you grow in an environment obsessed with perfection, I hope you can confidently embrace your imperfections because that is what makes us human. I am immensely proud of who you are and what you will be if you work sincerely to be.

Love that knows no limits,

No longer your helicopter mommy (but still a crazy one)  

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.

The mystical plan

I thought I held it for life,

But again it escaped into the void,
I looked above, hoping to find it, 
But I was lost in the endless expanse, 
So much beauty in the sky, I was numb,
That shimmering star, or is it a meteor,
Is someone looking at me from that red star,
Can my heart hold this unceasing reach,
Ah, look at the flawed enchantress,
With a new shape each day with every phase,
The eternity engulfs everything I am,

I am under the spell of the deep dark sky,
Feeling like a speck in this mystical plan.
 

Coffee makes me so

I am used, I am abused, and I am overused.

Yes, I am the everyday coffee mug. But not just your ‘everyday’ everyday. I am used for her coffee, day in and day out. She says coffee doesn’t taste the same in any other mug. I snuggle the warm liquid harder so it stays warm enough for her. Every time she sips from my mouth, I try to turn every sip as mesmerising and refreshing as her first one. No matter what they wash me with, I’ve assumed the soul of coffee so I can enliven her experience a bit more.

You know you reach a point in life where you do not mind being used and unappreciated just coz you are somebody’s habit. Humans strangely and loosely tie themselves to habits. One day after another, they make these habits so deeply ingrained in their lives, and believe that they are entangled to them. More habits, the higher the heap of confused web. 

I know I’m not her ‘forever’. Just wait till I have a little crack, and I will be abandoned and lonely as the old haggard person on the streets. 

Now, now, you must think the reason for this coffee mug to be so insolent or pensive. Well, coffee makes me so.