Posted in childing, Inspiration, meow

Letting go

Working mothers are bound by curse to an eternal world of self pity and guilt. No one can save us when we decide to just go plop into that ocean of loathing; not even Mitch Buchannon.

Today, I had to leave for work after three full days(though most parts of it went in blowing two different noses and reading up about Mucokinetics) of staying at home with Meow.

Her eureka moment of today being Momma’s work day had apparently occured when she spotted me in a neatly pressed kurta instead of the smelly night dress.

When I reached out for my packed bag on the stairs, she was sitting beside it and gave me that look which should ideally have had me texting my manager a dramatic “I quit.” like Anna Kendrick in “Up In the Air” and taking the next flight to Bali with her in tow for a long and peaceful vacation. If only my life was not the equivalent of a fourier transform on a fractional differential equation!

She pleaded. “Mummy. No offi. Peeech.”

I insisted that I’ll have to go to office or that we will not be able to afford any more new dresses or those five blue baloons I promised. She replied in a squeaky voice with tears down her eyes, “Dress vena, baloon vena.” (I don’t want them.) “Peech mummy. No offi.”

What should I do ?

I sat down and asked her to stop crying and be brave, to which she hurriedly wiped tears off her cheeks like an underpaid maid mopping the floor. We sat for some more time.

Then, out of the blue, she told me, “Mummy go offi. Meow wait.” (Go to office I will wait till you come back.)

I can tell that she did not agree for the fear of not getting a new dress or the baloons; but some random action in her brain made her understand that she’ll have to let go of momma for now. She is two and a half and still has a long string of events in life waiting to test her mental fortitude; yet this will forever be my best memory of how naturally resilient the mind of a child her age can be.







Posted in meow

Of pen pals and patience

Both desert and dessert, remind me of a certain “sweet loving” pen pal I used to have from the land of the Thar desert. As much as the both us wanted to write to each other as many times as possible in a month, the snail mail deliveries would mean that we’d get to read each others letter only once in the time frame.

It would be a long wait with bated breath until the next letter arrived. Before that, the current letter would have been circulated among my friends at school. She used to write about the cuisines and traditions of her land which were new and fascinating to all of us. Sometimes, she’d also write a few words in Marwari along with the meaning and I’d translate that in Tamil in my reply. We were not fortunate enough to have Wikipedia or google translate when all this used to happen. One needed to be patient to gain knowledge. The wait could be endless, be it for the letter from this Marwari friend and her two cents, or to lay hands on that library book which someone had borrowed and is yet to be returned. Even changing music albums meant removing the cassette from the player and loading a new one on the right side, fast forwarding to the song of choice and then play it by pressing that big green button on the player. Songs did not play by the touch of a pseudo button.

All our pocket money would be spent on buying letter heads, stamps and glitter pens and not on recharging data packs.

Back in the day, having a pen pal made you the talk of the class. If that pal happened to be from a different country then you’d most likely be elected the “School Fine Arts Secretary” for your writing skills. Now with the advent of Facebook, teenagers these days can quickly befriend anyone from the other side of the globe and even get instant replies. This generation might get a cardiac arrest if I tell them that they might have to wait a month before getting a reply from the friend or to find out the meaning of ‘Gracias’ .

When Meow grows up I will ensure she gets a taste of this pen kinship; if not for the knowledge transfers, at least to experience the feeling of waiting. Even if I am unable to find out a pen pals listing anywhere, I will write letters myself with a pseudo name and a P. O. Box address (Here’s hoping all Postal Services stay alive for another ten years.)




Posted in meow, parenting

How to train your Meow

Toddlers never do anything we order them to do. Take my word for that. They pay attention to something only when it is mutually beneficial for the both of you. And then at times, they don’t pay attention at all, period. But it’s okay. She is a toddler, not a broker.

Meow will never agree to shower if I tell her she needs to get rid of all  the germs from her body or she might fall ill. However she will grin like a Stanley Ipkiss with a mask if I tell her that showering also means playing in water and making soap bubbles.

Same goes for cleaning up after eating. If I tell her she needs to place her plate in the sink after eating because it is good manners, she’ll most certainly go “No no no no no no”. But when I say throw it in the sink and you can hear a “clang”, she’ll run to the kitchen like her life depends on it.

Brush your teeth – “No no no no no no no no”. Care to eat some fluoride free strawberry flavored tooth paste ? Hell yeah.

Come lets read a book – “No no no no no no no no”. Do you want to tear pages off it? You know the drill.

Yet, there are some days when he/she will chose to just stick with her “No” no matter what sugar coated goodies you offer.

The best part of this drama is when such a day occurs at school in front of the tiger/ helicopter/ bullet train moms who are bragging about how obedient and perfect their preschooler is; all it takes for them is just a raised eyebrow and a fraction of a second. Yours might not pay heed even if your eyebrows are stuck at the top of your head for rest of the month. You would be forced to wish for your child to magically turn into Noddy (I mean literally nodding for everything you say).

I have wondered many a time of a life where Meow was like their children. No matter how many times I wonder, thoughts converge at this point: “This blog would not have surfaced.”

Your toddler rebelling in front of others might feel like an Ostrich moment*,  but come to think of it, this is actually a very subtle sign of your toddler’s shoe size getting bigger.

Be proud momma, you’ve done a good job.

Not that one should neglect a child’s disobedience but one should accept that sometimes they behave like that for a reason and the reason is that they don’t need a reason – they are toddlers after all.

*Ostrich moment: Feeling like burying your head to hide from the world.



Posted in childing, meow

Neigh Patchface

Neigh the horse fractured her leg while entertaining a (huge) bunch of dimwits at the race track. Her master got it fixed at the nearest hospital and was anxious to make Neigh race again as quickly as possible for his fortune at the race track would be at stake otherwise.

Poor Neigh wanted to escape from his clutches and so managed to leave the stable at fall of dusk with the help of Nina the bull dog. Once in the streets, Neigh went in search of a place to spend the night. It was cold, dark and windy; all signs of an impending storm and Neigh hated rains.

A few minutes passed and Neigh spotted a dim light at a distance where a lonely house stood. The sign in front of the house read “Dr. Jolly’s Homeopathy Clinic”. The house also had a stable where another horse like Neigh stood sleeping.

The door opened even before Neigh knocked and in there was a tiny man with a sharp nose. He was busy singing a jolly tune, mixing a green potion and afterwards sprinkled them on small, white mustard sized balls. He greeted Neigh without turning back and a genie offered her some warm horse gram.

The doctor was very friendly towards Neigh and suggested that she spend a few nights at the house until she healed. Neigh was delighted and thanked the doctor for his kindness. She then went to the stable, sat beside the standing horse and slept soundly through the stormy night.

In the morning, Neigh’s stable mate Nathan, woke her up and took her around the garden where they spoke about so many things from Napoleonic cavalry to modern equestrian sports. Later in the day, Neigh’s fracture caused her moan in pain and the doctor, with his never fading smile, gave her some potion to ease the pain.


Nathan and Neigh became great friends over the next few days. One morning when Neigh asked him what he had been doing before he came to stay with the doctor, Nathan revealed a secret that changed Neigh’s life forever.

Nathan had been a lazy, sleepy, peasant who was once down with an unknown fever that lasted for months. He visited Dr. Jolly for treatment and learnt of the latter’s magical skills. Since he wanted to stay lazy, sleep as he pleases even while standing and do nothing for the rest of his life, Dr. Jolly turned him into a horse.

Neigh was gobsmacked. She went to the Dr. Jolly and asked him for a favour. She explained to him how she had always wanted to be a unicorn and not just any plain horse with a shabby face who was treated badly. “A unicorn will be treated like a princess.”, Neigh dreamily spoke to Dr. Jolly.

Dr. Jolly being the nice bloke he is, promptly turned her into a plush unicorn, wrapped her as a gift and placed her on a two year old’s birthday table.

Let us call the birthday girl Meow. Unfortunately for Neigh, Meow was having a bad stint of constipation and was moody on her birthday. As much as she would have loved to build a castle for Neigh, her neurons went astray due to the constipation and the very first thing she did with neigh was to pull apart that adorable horn from her face.

After two days, Meow’s constipation was gone and she did build a castle for the horn less, patch faced Neigh. They are bosom buddies now.




Posted in hypocrisy, meow

Paper Planes

Meow loves paper.

Meow loves planes.

Meow loves gramma who makes her paper planes.

I believe hypocrisy runs in my family. This gramma of Meow’s forbade Meow’s momma to tear a page off of even a dilapidated rough note book that desperately cried to be spared from over-writing(literally), yet is happy making paper planes out of fresh bond paper for Meow.




Posted in meow

Don’t leave your luggage behind

To me, guests usually mean mental disaster of unimaginable extent.

When that person happens to be that aunt who comes with two mangoes from her yard, a truck load of gossip and revolting advises, the only thing I feel like doing is to pick up those ill fitting palazzo pants and run into oblivion.

Every time she leaves my house there would arise and over-whelming desire to scrub the floor clean and switch on exhaust fans. Sometimes, the vibes she leaves behind are so strong that I can sense myself turning into her for a brief period of time before being slapped back into consciousness.

I never really wanted to touch those mentally sick mangoes she brought. I strongly believed they were the source of the vibes after her departure. They would go straight into the oral cavity of the cows in the neighborhood next morning, but until then the vibes would revolve around like wisps of impending doom.

This time though, Meow saved me from those deadly vibes that would have been sent out by her mangoes.

When the aunt got ready to leave, poor Meow assumed that she is unintentionally leaving behind something she brought into the house(the mangoes) and handed the bag over to her. The aunt tried to reason it with her but the next moment Meow rolled on the floor, cried at the top of her voice, kicked her legs in the air and insisted that the aunt take it along with her since she was the one who brought it.

Needless to say, Meow brought to life what I had dreamt of doing every time this aunt got up to leave the house.