And people get married because.....

I can't imagine why on earth anybody ever gets married? And I definitely can't imagine why on earth parents get so worried if their kids don't get married 'on time'!!

What do you do if, after six and a half years of being married, you realize that you are married to the wrong guy? Not a bad guy. Just the wrong one. Not that you have a right one in mind. But you just know that this is not working. This is not what you wanted. This is not what you signed up for. This is not how you want to live the rest of your life.

One is a minimalist. The other a hoarder. The minimalist is also a loner. The hoarder hoards friends too. The loner is a rational human being. The hoarder a sentimental romantic. The rational one believes strongly in the benefits of being selfish (a philosophy he claims to have gotten from Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged). The sentimental romantic also happens to be a fool that has her worthless little life revolving around her family (unfortunately for her and fortunately for her better half, she hasn't read that book yet!). The selfish one wants to live the life of a bachelor (but I really don't think he knows what he's wishing for!). The fool would love that but truly believes that's not the way it works (for example, does she still have to cook for the bachelor? or wash his clothes? If so, shouldn't she get paid for housekeeping and chauffeuring and for running errands? Because I don't think she would have done all of this and more for free if she was single ;)).

Now some may believe that a 2-way compromise might work. But, the bachelor does not believe he has to compromise on anything just because he got married. Then what do you do? Accept things the way they are and live on. Or find your own life and live it?

I am a housewife...

Not a homemaker or a full-time mom but the good old housewife. I stay at home and do what my grandma and my mom did and I don't feel the need to justify my choice with euphemisms. No, I do not feel less than other women who work. I do not feel greater than them either. Only blessed for not having the compulsion to prove my worth through the bucks I make. Over the 6 years of my married life, I have heard umpteen reasons why I should work. It will give you Independence (from what?), you will not feel worthless (I don't anyway), you will get to make friends (I still can), every woman should have a job (and that would be because...??), it feels good to have your own money (I'm married and hence there will never be any 'my' money), your kids will feel proud of you (so, your job is directly proportionate to how much your kids love you? really? hmmm...interesting!!), you will not lose your individuality (you really ought to look up the meaning of that word in the dictionary if you think it has anything to do with a job...), you will be respected more if you have a job and are financially independent (again, don't agree. I know well educated working women ill-treated by their family and believe it or not, they put up with it), how can you live off your husband's money (now you gotta be kidding me!!)

Interestingly enough, never has a woman ever told me that she works because she likes to. Because she wants to. Just for the heck of it. Not for the independence , not for the money, not for the 'respect', not to fit in, but just like that.

And that's what I want. To work for the heck of it. Like travelling around the world. Or going camel back through the desert. Or, being a housewife. Or watching your kids grow. Or painting. Each of these rides will sure be bumpy and there will be times when you wonder why. But you go on because you want to. Not because you have to.

The Big Girl!

My little girlie is as desperate as can be. For what? To be a big girl :) I was too, at some point in my life and now I am a big girl with responsibilities of a family weighing me down. I am a big girl and I am stressed and anxious and depressed from time to time. Definitely not what I had in mind when I wished for 'big girl'. And now I know why they keep telling you be careful what you wish for!
Now I see my grandma who stopped keeping track of her age long before we could start keeping track of it. Now no one knows how old she is but her children seem to agree on something close to 90. I watch her and I see not much difference between her and my 3 year old girl. They both talk to themselves. They both make up stories, one being imaginative in doing so and the other hallucinative. Both of them cannot fathom the concept of time. For them there's now, yesterday and tomorrow. Yesterday could be anytime from the moment they were born up until now. And tomorrow is anytime after now to eternity. They both bump into things because they are too distracted to see where they are going.
And now I wonder why we so desperately wish to grow up just to go a full circle and meet our end right where we started off but alone !

Pain.......

Today I learnt what pain is. The kind that made me wish that someone had ripped my heart out instead. My little girl was hurt today. Nothing big. Just an 'owiee' that kids get all the time. She fell from the bed and bumped her head hard enough to need two stitches. Most important lesson learnt: 'monkey jumping on the bed' song means nothing to kids. So, getting back to the point, I had to take her to the hospital and they stitched her up under local anaesthesia. Agreed that she would have felt no pain after the anaesthesia but she cried and screamed and writhed nevertheless more out of fear than pain and my heart bled. I felt helpless about not being able to do anything to ease her anxiety and pain and fear. I felt like I was less than I should be.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not the kind of mommy who wouldn't let my daughter take any risks. In fact I think all the little owiees in life will just make my girl better prepared to face the world. And strangely enough, my daughter has always been the most cautious child I have ever seen. It broke my heart to think that the first time in her life that she actually acted like a child, she was punished in a rather painful way. I just wish she would get over this fear soon and be a child again.

Kids, Oh! kids

What is it about kids that keeps us from putting them up for adoption and getting our life back? :) After I had my daughter, it's as if I have ceased to exist. My life isn't mine. Nothing is mine. Time. Space. Energy. Nothing.

And as I have come to realize the hard way, I am not the only mother who feels that way. What, then, is it that makes it worth the while? Is it the delicate kiss loaded with spit that is laid on my forehead when I sleep my worn-out sleep? Or is it the little soft hands that press my head a couple of times when it's splitting with a migraine in the hope of fixing it? Is it the naive heart that truly believes in the kiss it and fix it way of making owiees go away? Is it the soft whisper that tells me I am loved when I need it the most? Is it the feeling that washes over me every time those tiny hands wrap around my neck and 'crush' me in a bear hug? Is it the peace that I feel when I watch her smile in her sleep? Is it the innocence in her voice that asks me a million times during a one-hour flight if she is troubling me and if I am finding it difficult to 'mangage' ? Or is it the absolute earnestness in her face when she says,"Oh! We are just going to drive to Cochin, not fly?" because the plane taxies for a little longer than usual :)

Musings...

• Have you ever noticed that the longer you stare into the distance, the farther you can see. Like when I sit and stare at the sky. Now, that is something I could do for hours. Just sit and stare at the sky. Without a care in the world. The only time when I am free of thoughts. Free of worries. Free of todo lists. And as I stare, it feels like the sky is expanding. As if it were opening out its arms to embrace me, to engulf me in its quiet and peace and power and beauty and immensity. To free me from me.
• Have you ever noticed that men never want to grow up? Is it just coincidence or is there a connection between men never growing up and men never having much to complain about except work and wife?

The joy of dancing...

I love dancing. I know this is the billionth time I am saying that but I truly love dancing. Just the sound of music and watching someone dance moves me to tears. And every time I watch someone dance, my love for it only grows multi fold.

The person that I am, once that realisation has come to me, I have to figure out why. Or at least think about the 'why' part of it. So, I thought about it. And I think I have an answer. At least part of an answer.

Now there is the regular stuff of dance giving me wings and setting me free. And it takes me to another world and how this is the only thing that I do for myself. This is the only time I get for myself, a time where nothing else matters. But I think what I love the most about dancing is the pure joy of it. Not the kind of joy you get from believing that you are adding value to a system. Not the dependent variety of joy but the kind of joy you get from doing something that has no purpose in life. I don't dance for a purpose. I don't dance for a reason. I just dance. The same as I just stare at the sky or the mountain. Or listen to the water tumbling down stream. Or listening to the birds chirping. There is a quality to purposelessness that goes unmatched.