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.

When I had dysphagia and I just could not gulp pills

When I was a child, I had an issue called dysphagia. It means an issue generally swallowing, but I had a problem swallowing medicines. In my experience the more you run away from a matter, the more it comes down on you. So, I suffered from malaria (as a kid), and that too not once or twice, but multiple times while we stayed in Lagos. 

If I must associate certain keywords with our stay in Nigeria, it would be, a doll-like duplex house, tall banana trees, armed robbers, Ilupeju, Indian Language School (and my amazing friends) and malaria. For some strange reason, I suffered recurrent malaria. I had to repeatedly take quinine pills; god knows for many months. It may seem as if I am making a big deal for taking those innocent quinine capsules, but you must ask my mom and dad of the herculean task that it was. 

Some of the ways that this dysphagia kid tried:

• Guzzling down an entire bottle of water only to have the capsule sitting in my mouth
• In the most delicate manner, my mother opened the capsule and emptied the most bitter powder and mixed it with honey. I would still puke.
• My dad pushed it in my mouth, put water and kept my mouth shut till I swallowed it
• My mom fried bread and dipped it in sugar syrup as a post pill reward (she made a whole lot of other goodies as well) but the pill just would not go past my mouth 

Post our stint in Africa and years later, I had to take a zillion medicines and had no option but to learn the art. After all these years, I still have an issue swallowing gigantic pills. I do not have as much of a dysphagia trouble anymore. 

With this memory, I realized that a child may not retain every memory of their parents. Memories that are forever are times when folks (like mine) make sincere and serious efforts, take so much pain, and do everything in their power to support the craziness of their moppet.  

I saw ‘The Social Dilemma’ and here is why am worried

I watched ‘The Social Dilemma’ recently and I started thinking of something really concerning. It does not say anything that I don't know already. I mean I really wish I had access to those advanced AI algorithms to create engaging content for people. But that is not it. I am more worried about how children, in the current and future times, identify or will identify their self with their social standing.

Not to deny that it matters to us as well. That gratification and pump to the dopamine every time our friends like and comment on our picture. And we wait to take that perfect picture. We only celebrate pretty faces, promotions, that 'A' grade, and the near perfect event in our life.

But thanks to a childhood that had more real interactions and mortal connections that we have a stronger sense of self. Our confidence is not destabilized if a picture does not get a like or gets a negative comment. We can discern ‘the social’ us as extended entertainment and not an extended version of ourselves.  

I do not want to sound like a person saying things were better in my time. Things are constantly evolving (read getting more tech driven), and we are as much part of that evolution because it offers speed and convenience which are addictive. 

Shreya and Shivansh are at an age when they really like to play games on the gadgets (which I allow weekly). In some years, they will probably want to be on Instagram and twitter because their friends are. How will I ensure that their confidence is unaffected with or without their social presence? How will I help them understand that their online stance is not who they are? How will I explain that it is not ok to share everything online as our privacy is constantly exposed? How will I convince them that they don't have to be perfect to be liked but being real is far more important?