To the ladies in my life.

 Standing tall in all her splendour

She makes your eyes pop with wonder,

Always multitasking, giving and caring,

Herself she is always sharing,

Daughter,sister, wife, mother, aunt, grandmother, friend,

So many roles

As she evolves and unfolds.

She is God's precious creation

She builds a home and a nation.


Long live her tribe
Let us her values and virtues imbibe.

Happy Women's Day!

Happy birthday folks!

The month of September is a 'happy birthday' month in my home. This year my mother turned 84, a on the 8th of September and my sons will turn 23 and21 respectively. Ah, yes, the better- half turns 63 on the 22nd.
Mom at 84 is not doing too badly. She may be feeble and slow of gait but she gets around. She remains prayerful and a voracious reader. Reading the daily newspaper is a must. At home with me for the past few months, she has had very little to do and is happy to catch up on her reading and bonding with her two grandsons who regale her with tales from their ever-so - busy lives. Mom can still sew a button or alter a hemline and am I grateful for that!

Born within two years of each other on the same day, my sons are temperamentally as different as chalk is from cheese. Besides a common date, they share little else. The older is easy going, rectient, generous and musically inclined. The younger who turned 21 is thrifty, hot-headed,  extroverted and an artist in his own right. Quite the foodie and sporting a hopeless sweet tooth, he can rustle up tasty fare.

It's hard to say goodbye,
As you spread your wings,
And get ready to fly.

The years have flown,
How you have grown!
The child is gone,
The man is born.
Fare thee well,
As on greener pastures,
Sons you venture to dwell.

The better - half, well, what do Isay? A tremendous source of strength and support, he has remained by my side for 'better or worse', in 'sickness and health'  for the past 24 years, although I strongly suspect that being a pianist, his first love was and is the piano. He has been listening to my rants and raves interrupting with a word of advice or helping me to look at situations from different angles. My better-half has always stood by me.

He is also a hopeless foodie and adept in the kitchen, his valuable help in the kitchen takes off the load from the routine, 'everyday cooking'.
At 63, he still remains young at heart and quite the party-man.
Oh yes! we disagree and have have our 'cold and frozen shoulder' moments but the silver-wedding bells will chime soon and there is a lot to celebrate.

Mom's the word.

Mother's day is almost drawing to a close. Social media was rife with mother's day prayers, blessings and wishes.
A child gives birth to a mother. I turned mom at the ripe old age of 30. My pregnancy ended abruptly when my baby decided that he wanted to be born 2 and 1/2 months early. A very stressful period ensued caring for this little boy who entered our lives so suddenly. Many many anxious moments later  Jason, as we had named him showed signs of becoming all that we hoped he would be. A  talkative bundle of energy, he stole the hearts of family and friends. Two years later his brother followed him into this great big universe. The boys as different as chalk and cheese in temperament and habits, I have had to adopt different styles of mothering with each.
Motherhood, as any mother will say, is not all roses and wine. There are heartbreaks and disappointments.  There is learning and experimenting, sharing, giving and receiving. There is exhaustion and excitement  There is joy, laughter and fun and days when you are number one. There are sacrifices to be made and long sleepless nights to be endured. At the end of the day, you wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.

I have friends with grown-up children, children who live, work or study away from home and each time they visit, it is a celebration.

My mother is 83 years old and happens to be spending mothers day with me this year. At 83 she is still quite mobile but slow.
Born and raised in Bombay, she is a professional teacher. Mom began working at the tender age of 16 and taught for almost25 years. Marriage took her to the east of the country, to a small town called Jamshedpur where she spent 22 years. She taught for 14 years in a  convent school, riding a luna to school. Considering her quiet demeanour, it was quite a feat to have accomplished.  T this day, I cannot even ride a bicycle.
Mom was an excellent cook, she dished out the most awesome food. She acquired quite a few fans and dad was her greatest fan. She won prizes in a couple of cookery contests. Gardening was a hot favourite. She spent hours tending to her potted plants. A few plants dot her living room even today.
Both mom and dad were strict disciplinarians but mom supervised lessons and homework and signed bad report cards. My tribute to mom wouldn't be complete if I did not pay tribute to her prowess as a seamstress.   Her embroidery, crochet, knitting and dressing me up in her creations are some memories that I will always cherish. She brought the living room alive with cushions and covers all created by her hands. The beautiful leaf-shaped cushions together with the tortoise cushion that she shape and embroidered herself stand testimony to her talent. Sadly, I have inherited nothing of the magic that she was able to create with the needle and thread. Yes, in school she completed my needlework for me.   The USHA  sewing machine, that stands in a corner of her bedroom today almost 63 years old would have many a tale to tell of a  little girl's dresses sewn and machine needles threaded.
Fast forward to the period when my boys were young and my husband worked overseas for long periods of time. Mom visited often helping me, raise two hyperactive little men."{Nana' remains on top of their charts even today.   
Mom today is frail but by and large independent. She is a  doting grandmother to six grandsons who in turn adore her.   She visits my brother staying some distance away but by and large spends more time in her own home. 
her own space.
MOM.

Ambling along.

Deep heat is what we have been experiencing for the past couple of months. May 2017 will draw to a close in another few days and the countdown to the great Indian Monsoon will begin if it has not yet begun. On the international front, May 2017 was marked by President Donald Trump's visit to Israel and the suicide bombing in Manchester.How many more lives are to be lost before peace prevails? What kind of high does taking a life give you? Some demented people spreading fear and terror, cutting short precious lives..Closer home India continues to fight for the life of one of her sons.Have mercy on us, dear Lord!

Your mother is the first person in your life. She gives birth to you and then raises you the best of her ability. You may argue and fight but she remains your closest confidante. A once strong and active woman, now in her 81st year is frail and tired. She moves slowly  and speaks softly and is unsure most of the time. She is happy to be around her grandsons.They tell her to have a 'chill - pill' She dotes on them and they dote on her. She loves reading the newspaper and generally reads it from start to end.  You cannot quite accept the person that she is today. She rode a luna, stitched your clothes, cooked your food, took up your lessons, got you married and helped you raise your sons.

You try hard to convince yourself that ageing is inevitable and the changes that you see are inevitable. Nevertheless, she is the first person in your life and you must be grateful and thankful for the time you spent with her and are spending with her. Incidentally, mothers were honoured on the  14th of May. The offspring did not have a clue about the day. Boys will be boys. My friend's son remembered and wished her at lunch. "Better late than never," I say.

Someone remarked that we hand write very little these days and that someone was so right. Besides the odd cheque and a few grocery lists, what is there to write. Typing and texting are more like it. All the typing and texting has taken a toll on the handwriting. Today I am not very proud of my writing. Schools generally lay a lot of emphasis on handwriting and the school I attended was no different. I vividly remember being given pages of copywriting in a grade as high as 9. There were those red and blue lined copywriting books and your writing had to touch the lines. Are they still in use?