CAN NEVER THANK ENOUGH

Dear Babai & Pinni,

There are days when you simply can’t express yourself good enough. There are only two reasons for that situation, either nothing much to say or so much to say that you find yourself amidst rare numbness and words simply don’t find their way from heart to mouth. I identify myself with the second reason. And I feel I will be in this situation till the end of my life : Can never thank you both enough for how you impacted my life at different stages and phases.

Babai, I have never seen a person as emotional and straight forward as you are. I have always been in awe of how far you have gone for the people you care for. Since the time I started understanding relationships and their beauty & importance in human life, I have seen you as a rock who stood by your brother (my father) in his thick and thin. At the times when relationships are motivated, made, twisted and broken by money, thanks to you we never saw such moments in our family. I saw how you would never take it lying down whenever people hinted disrespect towards my father. Your sibling love gave our generation sibling goals – to love, support and respect our siblings unconditionally. Thanks for making our family an epitome of brotherly love for the world to see, it isn’t an exaggeration.

It’s a popular belief that to make or break a family, the responsibility lies with the lady of the house. And I can proudly say that I belong to a family that got amazing women who no matter what makes sure that family bonds are not severed. And leading from the front is you, Pinni (Chachi/aunt). Babai’s (uncle’s) love for us can be understood by the linear nature of relationship we had – brotherly love. But you are the support system of Babai who always stood by his decisions. You embraced us as your own kids. You have always been my idol when I think about strong, independent woman. A woman with strong values who values family, wisdom being your second name, love and compassion is your identity. I am fortunate enough to share the same date of birth (same date, same month) with you. You have an immense impact on how a woman has to take charge of her family and bind it. After 11 years of marriage if I can relate to happiness and sorrows of my extended family from my husband’s side, its because of a wonderful lady like you. Thank you so much for all the love, motivation and inspiration you have showered on me and still doing it. And before I forget to mention, it’s always great to spend time with you, it’s fun second to none.

Both of you have cared for me and my brother like your own children, a rarity in these selfish times we are living. You hold the same place as our parents in our hearts.

And it would be so insensitive and wrong on many accounts if here I don’t mention about my sweet little sister, Divya. As a child she used to be our favourite for she used to be super cute and we used to look quite lean (famished wouldn’t be appropriate😂😂). I will always be grateful to God for giving me such a wonderful person as my sister. She is an exact replica of Babai when it comes to emotions. The way she cares for people and bonds, so invested in them wholeheartedly I have never seen anyone else in this practical world. I have a great camaraderie with her and my brother. Summer vacations, late night talks under star lit sky, silly fights, sharing clothes, dancing till we dropped, watching movies in the front row of cinema hall, keeping secrets, breaking down, building up each other – I can literally go on. Technically we were in nuclear families but literally we grew up together (with and on each other). Thank you is a small word for the support you have been to me.

I may not have vast materialistic fortunes but very fortunate to have you in my life, it’s a blessing to have such a loving family, wonderful strong people guiding me at every step, shaping up the right ideology to look at life in a positive perspective, heaping up treasure of memories. Though I don’t like to repeat myself but can’t help today – can never thank you all enough.

Yours lovingly,

Daughter .

WHO KNOWS ME THE BEST?

Questions are imperative in human life. It is the questions of the human mind that instigates him towards the meaning and the purpose of life and defines the why behind its twists and turns. Questions are either raised by an individual or in reference to an individual. Behind every question, there is a Questioner! Ravi Zacharias in his recent book “THE LOGIC OF GOD” says, “The convergence of intellectual and existential struggles drives a person to a brutal honesty in the questions he or she has.”

One among the biggest questions of human life – “WHO KNOWS ME THE BEST?” Like every other question of human life, this question is always in reference to a human struggle. Because we question only when life’s millstone burdens us. As a matter of fact, since my childhood, I have been frequently juggled and altered by this question – WHO KNOWS ME THE BEST? 

When I was a kid, I complained – “No one understands my choices.”

When I was a teen boy, I was hurt – “Why should I be like him? I am who I am!”

When I was in the twenties, I argued – “Why should I do that? It’s my life-my choice.”

When I turned thirty, I find myself – “Being misunderstood and misinterpreted.”

Towards the end half of 2018, there were some family issues and when I had to raise my voice to sort-out the misunderstanding between my family members, I was misunderstood being partial. In the meanwhile, I find one of my best friends going wrong in quite a handful of matters, as I attempt to correct my friend, again I was misunderstood being unfriendly, arrogant and bossy. Being too sensitive to relationships, being misunderstood and alone in four walls created havoc on my mind. The only question that distorted the peace of my mind is – “WHO KNOWS ME THE BEST?”. Why no one takes time to understand me or questions me – why do you think so? All that everyone thinks – BLAME HIM! 

Often in professional life, we are asked to keep the personal worries outside the office door but that’s someway too difficult. One individual life with two parts – the Personal and the Professional has enough possibility to tilt.

Each individual’s existence is caused and causes “Relationships”. Relationships is not the presence of one individual rather it exists between two individuals completely different from one another decide to come together and form a relationship irrespective of their differences. The presence of differences in the possibility of confusion and misunderstanding. But these misunderstanding is NOT MEANT to the breaking of relationship rather IT IS TO educate and enhance the relationship. 

BEING MISUNDERSTOOD and QUESTIONED BY SELF – 

“WHO KNOWS ME THE BEST?”, IS APPARENT! 

DO I KNOW MYSELF? – How about that! 

Flipping the pages of history, wise King Solomon was garlanded with WISDOM, POWER, WEALTH & GLORY. Materially speaking there is nothing that he lacks in his life. But at the end of his life’s journey, he concludes: “I put my hands into all that my mind found good. I acquired everything I desired. I applied myself to the understanding of wisdom, and also madness and folly, but I learned that this, too, is chasing after the wind. Everything is meaningless”. The question remains – WHO KNOWS ME THE BEST?

In my imaginative visit to the potter’s house, I saw the potter’s house is filled with varieties of clay pots. 

I: Who designed all these clay pots? 

Potter: “I”!

I: Where did you got the pictures to design these pots?

Potter: Their pictures were in my mind and I designed them accordingly.

I: Why each of them is entirely of different shapes and size. 

Potter: Because each of them is made for a different purpose.

I: Can this small flower vase be used to store water?

Potter: No, it cannot be. It is meant to give home to the flower plant.

I: Can your vessel explain why it is made?

Potter: Nope. Does it know how long it will exist? Where it will be tomorrow?

Potter: But I know where it will be tomorrow and How it will be used and What will be its worth.

The Bible says, “You are like the clay in the potter’s hands, and I am the potter.”  – this is the message of the Lord.

WHO KNOWS ME THE BEST? – The Potter has the answer.

How about asking HIM? 

THE HARDEST THING I EVER DID WAS TO BE JUST ME

The hardest thing I ever did was to be just me all the time.

Life is set with rules and regulations for everyone. It is just that all these rules do not let you be what you are always. Every rule portrays you to be someone else according to someone else’s rules.

That is life – that is what everyone replies to who cribs about this.

Even when others lay the rules, it is not easy to be not who you are at times. I have encountered myself, quite a number of times in my life till now. Every time I come face to face with my own self, I just have to bid goodbye to it and take up the burden of being an epitome of a rule book.

If I have to pick the hardest moments I ever had to be just myself, then there are plenty of them. As most of the times, my life is not what I always wanted it to be.

When I wanted to study and conquer my dreams, my family wanted me to start a family and be bounded by the marital laws. It was hard. Even after conflicting thoughts with myself, I had to sacrifice and be bound to their rules. Yet again I failed to be just me.

When I struggled in my career, I again lost the ambitious me to the laws of family. Wherein I set my priorities higher for my family than my job. Just to blame me in the end for the magnificent end of it.

When I began to write, it was a natural fight with the society rules and just my rules. I write a lot more about the expression of love either emotionally or romantically, they entice me, but again it was ‘just me’ writing without abiding by the rules of a  ‘good woman’. Even when I am character assassinated as many things unimaginable to me, I still continued to do what I always wanted to do. It is hard to make a decision in favor of one’s own consciousness at times, but I decided to pen down only my true emotions which I wanted to write and not anything that never touched my heart.

Most of the time, it is hard to be what you want to be, but it is better to be what you are. Lying to oneself leads you to a downfall, be true to yourself and you will see you are happy.

Self-love is never harmful, it is the best medicine to your soul. Mostly, it is not selfishness or self-indulgence but it is more of taking care of one’s self rather than just giving away everything.

LAST TIME I CRIED…

4 months ago:

The anesthesia had already started to work, when the doctor asked me, “Soumya, what do you want?” With a smile on my face, I replied, “Anything doctor.” My doctor asked me again, “Still, any preferences?”

Drifting into the world of my dreams for some seconds, I thought about the most beautiful relationship according to me. The relationship that the siblings share. I had always dreamt of a brother as a sibling. And I also had a wish that, if ever I am able to give my daughter a sibling, then it should be a boy so that she can feel and enjoy it as all my cousins did. I have always felt that the relation between a brother and a sister is very pure, strong and charismatic. I have seen and witnessed the love they share.

I answered, “Doctor, as you know, that I already have a daughter. It would be great if she has a brother to play with.“

The procedures had already begun. I drifted back to those painful 8 months. Those initial pains, series of blackouts due to hypoglycemia, premature tendencies, increased number of hospital visits, chances of miscarriage during the 6th month, admitted and being treated for the same. The many painful steroid injections and IV drips, giving way to many painful days and some very painful nights. The labor pains and the fear that we (mother and child) might not survive if things go otherwise. Emergency admission and surgery. I and my husband were both tensed for many such reasons. During my previous hospitalization, we had a mother who lost her 33 weeks baby to gestational diabetes. I also had gestational diabetes and endocrinologist had also warned us about stillbirths. My husband (who wasn’t in a good shape either) was waiting outside the OT for some news, hoping it to be good.

It took them 12 minutes to cut through, then they pushed my baby out. I was fervently praying that my baby should cry out loud when it comes out. Lo and behold, my baby cried. My doctor told me, it’s a boy. But I was so much happy that my baby cried that I couldn’t hear what she said. I asked again, “Doctor, is it a boy or a girl.” My anesthetist said, “you had made a deal from above, you couldn’t have got anything else, it’s a boy. Congratulations.” After giving him a wash, they brought him near my face. I could just see his small little nose, his beautiful eyes, and red lips. I was overwhelmed.

As soon as I was out of OT, my husband came to see me. I looked at him and cried. He reciprocated. It was a cry of happiness and victory. God had lead us through the valley of troubles and dangers into a beautiful life. Our family was now complete. Our second bundle of joy was here.

All Rights Reserved with Mrs. Soumya Rout & her beautiful family

Struggling through the entire pregnancy, being ill for almost 90% of times, I now have a chance to witness the bond I have had longed for my entire life. I can live the love and bond through my kids. To be a mother is a very intense feeling and to get your heart’s desire is another one. I had a combination of both at that time and it was a magical and emotional phenomenon. My son is now almost 4 months old and has already started looking at and following his “didi (sister)”. This is just the beginning of a happily ever after.

GENDER IS JUST A BIOLOGICAL DIFFERENCE, NOT A WAY OF LIFE

I have a girl and I love her to bits, as I imagine every Mother in the world must do, regardless of the sex of her child. But even though my child is my everything, the centre of my universe, there was still a fraction of a second when I betrayed her and wished she was born a boy.

Did that surprise you? It surprised me too when it happened. When I lay motionless,  barely conscious in the operating room, and when the Doctor pulled her out from the gaping hole in my belly, she held her up for me to see her for the first time. I was overjoyed to see my baby finally, but right on the heels of that pure joy came that sickening moment which was the biggest betrayal to my baby girl. Because in that moment, however small it was, I wondered how it was that I brought forth a girl, when its a boy I had prayed for?

It’s true, I wanted a boy. People used to tell me how myopic my views were, how archaic my reasons sounded for wanting a boy in a family that was overflowing with boys. They accused me of being patriarchal and old-fashioned. They didn’t know the real reason, and I told no one because I feared a backlash if I did – I didn’t want another girl going through what women go through every day. To be specific, what I went through. If I bore a girl and brought her up only for her to be stared at, catcalled, or heaven forbid, touched or violated by some disgusting leche; or even to see her being mentally tortured or conditioned into believing that she was weak, that she had only one job in the world, or that she was secondary to someone, it would break my heart just like it breaks the hearts of millions of mothers out there who have daughters who have faced the ire of the world for being a woman. No mother would want her child to suffer through things like differential treatment, lewd stares, periods, leaving her home for another, dowry, domestic violence, family pressure for babies, and the list goes on…  But the heavens gifted me a girl, and now I wouldn’t exchange her for any number of boys.

But am I the only one who wished to have a boy for the reasons that I enumerated above? I suspect not. There are parents who have wanted a boy for reasons far worse than mine. And that’s why we have baby girls being killed off in India – a nation known for its reverence to its vast array of goddesses, yet infamous for little regard to the women in their own homes.

I will not go into the gory details of what female foeticide and infanticide are and what the stats say about them. If you wish to know that, please click here. I’m here to discuss the reasons behind it. And my own story is part of the perception that fuels this problem. I know that women, in general, don’t have it easy in any part of the world, but I can only attest to the situation in my own country. In India, a female child is unfortunately considered by many, an unwanted commodity, who has to be fed, clothed, educated only so that she can be the nurturer for someone else’s family. And even though it is this girl who is going to eventually perpetuate the family of another, it is the burden of the girl’s family itself to bring the dowry. Is that not the wrong way around? Forget that, why must there be a dowry at all for a ‘family member’, or for a ‘human being’? Is that how families should begin – by a barter of the boy’s hand for money or gifts from the girl’s family? Who’s genius, twisted and mercenary idea was it anyway?! But dowry remains the prime reason why girls are killed in a mother’s womb or right after their births in India. The economic strain of rearing and the eventual loss of a girl becomes the reason for their doom.

Where does the problem lie? I believe it originates from our beliefs that there is a difference between a girl and a boy, apart from the biological ones. We rear them up from infancy to think that they are bound to certain ‘roles’ in society because they were born with certain body parts. I also believe that the problems faced by Indian girls and women today have their origin, partially, in how we bring up our boys to consider themselves the ‘superior gender’; the other half originating in women themselves who think that a girl is a commodity, to be hawked away at a price. The problem of female foeticide and infanticide persists even in the modern era because of our skewed perception of what a girl signifies. To most traditional and pseudo-modern Indians, a girl signifies a freeloader. Like every freeloader, she is taken for granted and treated as secondary, in matters of health, education, occupation, even in marriage. Who wants a freeloader? No one. And so, no one wants the responsibility of raising a girl, but they only want the ultimate benefit a girl brings – the furtherance of the family name. What noble intentions indeed!

To be sure, there are laws, government initiatives, family planning programmes, free education initiatives and other sops offered to parents to deter them from sex-selective abortions and infanticide, but to eradicate the problem from the root we must teach ourselves that a gender is not a ‘way of life’… it’s only a gender, a biological difference. 

I bet if we were to bring up a boy and girl in isolation they would exhibit emotions and preferences conventionally ascribed to both their own gender as well as those ascribed to the opposite gender. It’s only when society and cultural influences come in, that the gender stereotypes begin to emerge in a child. My girl, for example, loves cars instead of dolls, she digs shorts, not skirts, she won’t allow her hair to be pulled into a ponytail , she won’t wear ballerinas, but shoes and has a morbid fear of headbands. She loves any activity that involves getting filthy and tumbling around, and her emotions are never tempered by any feminine restraint. And yet there are times when she’s affectionate, motherly even, and does not flinch from being a diva – like when she says ‘cheese’ for the camera! She’s at once, a girl and a boy, and all of that is because SHE IS HUMAN. 

Perceptions like ‘you must cook because you’re a girl’ or ‘you must be strong because you’re a boy’, may have originated in necessity, so that the man could forage for the family while the woman tended to the home, but those times have come to a close. We live in an age today when our technologies and our education afford both the genders the ability to be either the nurturer or the bread-winner, or even both. Then why must we doggedly hold on to the archaic beliefs about ‘gender roles’? Why should we as parents perpetuate those stereotypes? Why teach our daughters that they must be demure, pliant, understanding, forgiving and kind ONLY because they are girls? And on the contrary teach our sons to be fierce, strong, unabashed and sharp ONLY because they are boys? Are these attributes not human attributes? Why must they be divided to define only a type of gender? 

Being parent to a girl should not be a burden, but being parent to a human being, requiring the same amount of care and effort that one puts into the upbringing of a boy child. Even if our worries about our girls are founded in the loftiest of good intentions, it’s ultimately a way of telling our girls that they are somehow weaker than boys. If we are to breed stronger women, we must start by making them stronger at home, bringing the change in our families, our perceptions, cut off traditions that teach us otherwise, and only then can this become a nationwide, or a worldwide change.

But until this change occurs in the upbringing of every child, boy or girl, and every family member, there will always be an ounce of worry attached to the birth of a girl.

 

THE CONSPIRING COUSINS !

Summer vacations, grandparents house (mother’s parents) and a group of same aged cousins playing games on a breezy afternoon on the huge porch alongside a garage that housed all the cars. Two of my brothers were changing the  tyres of an old, worn out white, NE 118 (nanaji’s) as it stood on a jack by the side of the porch. They planned to take it for a ride in the evening. Two of my other cousins were playing cards, sitting on the wicker lawn chairs and me and my younger sister (another cousin) were practicing Baseball on the open verandah. She was pitching while I was holding the bat raised above my head, ready to strike. I was in full swing, aiming for a Home run(like sixer in cricket) when a huge tyre rolled on the ground and bumped into me and I fell face down on the ground. I was covered in mud as I turned to see my brother(Dhruv) grinning at me, sitting on haunches near the rear tyre of the car. I gave him a very dirty look and he shrugged his shoulders (like saying WHAT?). I got up, took the bat and ran towards him, my face contorted in rage and bat raised in one hand (I was somewhat of a tyke).

He saw me coming and ran for the main door as all others rolled laughing. I was hot on his tails as he closed-door after door and finally hid inside a room and locked it from inside. I banged the door shouting obscenities and swearing revenge the moment he steps out. He wouldn’t come out and I locked the door from outside as well and stood sentry outside waiting for him. My elder cousin came to us, he was covered in grease and rust from the car. Wiping sweat with a towel and panting he said: “open the door sis, I need his help to change tyres”. I was also stubborn, I sat cross-legged on the floor outside the door with the Baseball bat and told elder bro (Abhinav) “until and unless that rat apologises, this door won’t open”. Abhinav looked here and there and banged the door “apologise Dhruv, you did wrong, say sorry and come out. I guarantee you she won’t do anything” he shouted from outside to convince Dhruv to come out. I looked up at him in a mocking fashion and smiled wickedly twisting the bat as if letting him know that I have no intention of letting him go scot-free. “I am not coming out until she leaves…ask her to open the door and leave” came Dhruv’s voice from inside as I tapped the palm of my right hand with the bat, eyes fixed on big bro Abhinav. He shrugged his head in helplessness, thought for a few minutes and held my arm, took me to a corner and whispered, “look lil sis, locking him in won’t help you get revenge, he won’t come out that easily…..if you want revenge then use brains….why to let him sit inside peacefully while I slog with the car alone and you burn in anger” he said in a conspiracists tone. That got my interest and I asked him what shall be done then ? Abhinav smiled at me very coyly and said “you go from here and I will open the door, he will be assured he is safe and come out….you go and hide behind the main door with the bat… I will send him out first and you can jump on him, beat him to the pulp and extract your revenge, and then, I will make him work on the car” he said smiling, rubbing his chin with raised eyebrows brows…. amazed at his own brilliant idea. I was thrilled and nodded in affirmative, hiding behind the main door with the bat.

Abhinav opened the door and asked Dhruv to step out as I was gone and the coast was clear, the cat (me) has left, and sure enough the rat came out of the hole. I closed my eyes and took the stance with the bat gripped tightly in both hands as they approached the door calling me names. The door opened and as soon as the first man was out, I rained bat after bat on him…..my eyes closed in determination and lips pursed in strength. I was bringing down the bat on him again and again without waiting. Finally, when I was satisfied that he has been punished enough I stopped to draw breath and to my horror…..the boy who lay in a heap on the ground wasn’t Dhruv, it was Abhinav, my co-conspirator. My mouth fell open as I saw tears of humiliation in big bro’s eyes while Dhruv stood there, holding his stomach, laughing like a maniac. Bro sat up massaging his elbows and knees and looked up at me miserably……I looked at him in shock….he gave a sheepish expression and said: “I forgot to send him first, I was stupid to come outside first…..it slipped my mind that I made you wait with the bat”. Upon realising what has happened, we three forgot the fight and the revenge and roared with laughter over the silly mistake. Abhinav laughed the hardest because he couldn’t even complain….it was all his own master plan, after all, I couldn’t be blamed in any way.

This incident is one of my fondest teenage memory. I learned a very important lesson that day in the funniest way “If you set a trap for others, you will get caught in it yourself. If you roll a boulder down on others, it will crush you instead.” But I admire my brother Abhinav, for he had the capacity to laugh at himself, few have that quality. And till today, a small remorse is present in my heart that Dhruv got away just like that.

As you sow, so shall you reap !