A Daughter leaves......

                                        

‘Ammaaaa, where are you?’

‘ In a meeting Tara...what is it?‘

‘Nothing.....just asked... when will you be back?’

‘Soon, baby. Need anything?’

‘No ma.....just come’. And the phone call would end.

This was a typical conversation between my daughter and me...thrice a day. Not that she was waiting for me when I got home – but she needed to know why, what and when of everything I did.  At times I would wonder who was watching over whom here!

When I am in my office, she would gesticulate from our house entrance from where I am visible – usually asking me to come inside – immediately! Nothing much really - just to eat with her or discuss some pressing matters of shopping plans or gym timings.   

None of my things were just mine. They were hers as well- that goes without saying. Including clothes, soap, shampoo, hair dryer, eye pencil, lipstick, chappals, bags.....the reverse, of course, was never applicable.  And no matter where I chose to keep my new acquisitions, she would ‘smell’ them – from a mile. And reach for them – without wasting too much time! And rather unfairly, whenever I found something missing on my dressing table or closet, I would blame her for pinching it.

She dressed in my room. Used my dressing table and mirror- and for some reason, I had to wait for my turn until she finished. This, despite the fact that she has a bigger dressing table with a bigger mirror in her room! But no, mine was more convenient. And I could never close my bedroom door – not even to change clothes. She would always knock with such urgency that not opening the door immediately would make me feel selfish and rude. Once let in, she would happily saunter in and switch on the TV to watch her favourite show on TLC.

Her two huge cupboards were full of clothes that would literally tumble out when opened. Her bed was stacked with clothes. Yet, she had ‘nothing to wear’ when there was an occasion in the family. What are mothers for, if they can’t lend their daughter a silk kurta that has just been dry cleaned and saved for a special evening?

We worked out in the same gym.  And I loved embarrassing her by teasing her trainer and distracting her impossibly tough sessions with him. And she gave me glaring – why-don’t – you – work-out- and - leave – me - alone- looks. And always asked ‘Amma, how do you manage to talk to everybody, all the time??’!! Most often, we walked together from home to gym and back.

We pottered around in the kitchen together – cooking a new dish, experimenting a new recipe.  She was the royal taster – if she approved of a dish, it had better be good. We planned dinners out and snuck into our beauty parlour for some quick waxing and eyebrows. I tagged along with her to Express Avenue and hung around exasperated as she tried out clothes and drooled over accessories – protesting if she attempted to buy something that I somehow knew she would junk in less than a month. I accompanied her to movies I would never have cared to sit through, just to please her.

I marvel at her sense of fashion and style, things that have eluded me always. She knows all leading international brands; I am mostly clueless. She can read maps and find her way in any part of the world – when we holidayed in China, she would navigate through cities using all modes of public transport while I tagged along in bewilderment. ‘You can get lost in our home Amma!’ – she would often tease me.

There was nothing I enjoyed more than watch her dance. But when she performed on stage, I could never sit without getting jittery. I dreaded the footwork she may forget or the sequence she may miss. I usually stood outside the auditorium and peeped in every few minutes to ensure she was fine. And heaved every time she got it right. She looked to me for validation – regardless of the encomiums she received from others.

She is smarter and more intelligent than I can ever hope to be. She can laze in bed doing nothing an entire day. But also can work hard to the point when I plead her to get some rest. She can say things to her father that I dare not dream of (ha ha...what pleasure!!) and get away with arguing fiercely with her grandmothers.

She is quite unlike me in many ways – more practical and less emotional. She would often chide me for getting carried away – ‘Amma...why are you like this??’ – ‘this’ usually meant a quality I would be better off without. I have seldom seen her go overboard. She can hold herself very well and is amazingly sorted out for her age. ‘You have such a lovely daughter!’- I hear this from someone every single day. And I know she is not only lovely.... also very special.

And then, Tara got married last year. But nothing much changed for us as she waited for a visa to join her husband in Canada. I knew it was a question of time before she left to where she now belonged. I ardently wished she embarked on her new life soon. And she finally left on Tuesday.

The goodbyes were not too emotional. After all the voluminous paperwork, meticulous packing and last minute preparations, we were exhausted when she left past midnight struggling with three humungous bags threatening to capsize from the trolley. When she walked away from me into the international terminal, I felt numb, even a tad relieved that she was finally moving to her new home ending her seven months long wait after marriage.

Until I came home. As I walked in without her, the feeling of emptiness that engulfed me  is indescribable.  Her tiny room with pink walls; tinier bathroom with pink tiles and an array of cosmetics strewn on her vanity; her cupboards with clothes left behind; a big collage of her photos that I gifted for her 20^th birthday; a cute picture of Krishna framed on her wall; the smell of her perfumes and colognes; a hairclip here; a earring there; a bill from a reputed store; granola bars and oil free snacks that she loved; her cot with soft cushions that she hugged to sleep; her dance costumes and CDs.....it seems just the other day that I held her in my arms as she wailed her way into this world 24 years ago!

The Prophet’s words ring in my mind as I come to terms with her absence:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, 
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, 
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 
and He bends you with His might 
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, 
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Parenting - no Child's Play!

I was recently invited to give a presentation in a seminar organised by a school in Coimbatore about parenting in the digital age. I am not a qualified child psychologist. Neither can I claim expertise in guiding parents in their role as parents. The only qualification that I can think of - I am a mother of 3 children who have grown into adorable adults – and I cannot take the entire credit for this impressive achievement. But today, that seems to be the only achievement I can boast of in 46 years!!

For starters, having 3 children is enough to raise anyone’s eyebrows. I normally don’t hide my age or the fact that I have 3 children. And people always give me an incredulous look - I can’t tell if it is the  ‘come on- you – must - be – crazy’ kind of disbelief, or ‘wow- how –on-earth-did-you-manage-raising-3- kids’ bordering on admiration! But I love that moment- when I reveal the great truth and see the recipient mentally calculate my age in proportion to that of my eldest son.

 I stepped into the role of a mother with equal ignorance as I had done into that of a wife. The idea of 3 children was my husband’s - he is an only child and felt duty bound to make up for the lapse on his parents’ part.  And since planning of any kind is alien to me- leave alone family planning, I willingly embraced motherhood, having 3 children in 7 years.

I became a parent when I was 19 years old!! That is the time most teenagers rack their brains studying for engineering exams, preparing for CAT or dreaming of a Masters degree in a well known university abroad.

Raising a child can never be taught....it is a process that one learns along the way, and the path is fraught with challenges, pain and joy in equal measure.  One needs patience, perseverance and stoic acceptance.

 Babies are relatively easier to look after, if you ask me. All they need is - to be fed on time, their diapers changed when wet, be put to sleep and wake up at will. It is in the ‘terrible twos’ that the woes of the parents start. Toddlers are ‘cute’ for an outsider but a handful for the parent. They have to be potty- trained, force- fed, baby-talked and protected from mishaps waiting to happen. They seem like angels only when they are asleep!

Teenagers are a nightmare in comparison though. Atleast young kids can be admonished and yelled at when they don’t behave. But teenagers can give you a hard time with their defiance, disrespect and indifference. And then of course, raising a daughter has its own set of challenges. We want to protect them from the big bad world and watch over their whereabouts; ensure that they don’t fall into bad company; lecture them on late nights and the lurking dangers in pubs; fret about their clothes (or lack of them) – and by all means be considered old fashioned pests who never understand them!

Add to this the stress of getting children into a good school for which admissions are booked even when they are in the womb and tutoring them till they come to a class when we can no longer teach them math or science. 10^th and 12^th have the board exams looming large like a formidable demon that has to be held by its horns. And parents go into a self imposed exile shunning tv, friends and any social activity for a few months, vicariously living through the ordeal of their children. Then begins a mad scramble for application forms, entrance exams, professional courses, universities, admissions and capitation fees.   A lot of work, let me tell you!

But a few decades ago, parenting somehow seemed a cake-walk! How else would you explain couples having 5 and 8 and 12 children as a matter of routine? It was not uncommon to have the mother and daughter pregnant at the same time- without feeling embarrassed at the prospect of a child born along with its aunt or uncle!! We now shudder at the thought!!

Parenting then was not taken too seriously, I think. It was a joint effort – with grandparents, aunts and uncles freely chipping in to raise children. And parents were not too sensitive or possessive about their children – it was ok to have them disciplined by a relative in the family.

 I am the 5^th child after 4 brothers and don’t remember being disciplined by either of my parents. We were all brought up by our grand-mothers and an aunt who lived with us.  And our mother never once defended our misbehaviour or resented the interference from her in-laws. And I think we grew up to be reasonably good individuals who understand people’s idiosyncrasies and are tolerant to their quirks- exposed as we were to various such characters in our childhood.

To me, parenting means being there for your child  Do what it takes to ensure your child gets the best out of life; understand  that each child is different and celebrate that difference; never compare the child with its siblings/ cousins/friends; recognise their interests that may not always be in sync with yours; foster their individuality; nurture their talent; love, adore, hug and kiss them; cook for them and clean after them; teach them the simple pleasures of life – such as going out for a walk to the beach, chatting with grandparents, sharing their thoughts , enjoying a home made meal with everyone; and above all don’t pretend to be their friend – they already have them- be a parent and a good one at that!

Today, parenting is a challenge. Parents give more than the child needs and on the flip side expect much more than the child can possibly do. I find a lot of children unable to hold a conversation with real people – unless they are on sms/ chat/ skype/ g-talk or whatever.  Most of their time is spent in attending classes – tuition, dance, music, skating, even story- telling! Today’s children get the best of everything- education, gadgets, clothes, gizmos, holidays, pocket money.....but do they really have a childhood?? 

( was published in the open page of 'The Hindu' in Feb 2012)