Below is a re-post from Indian Homemaker’s sharing of the tragic news. Death, and loss are part of life, but each time it strikes, it is like a gut-wrenching, bodily blow below the belt. For us, the other members of blogosphere, even if we did not know each other personally, our hearts and souls prayed endlessly for a miracle for Tejaswee. It was not to be. We now pray that the family may stay strong and find peace to come to terms with their loss. But it never is just that, a loss. It is also a time when the brightest of moments of the time together come to the fore, and a great deal of positivity stems from that. Here, is what IHM has shared on her blog.

Hugs and Prayers, IHM. To say we share your feelings, is inadequate, we know, but we do.

******

Born: 19th Jan 1991.

Died: 11th Aug 2010.

Tejaswee’s blog.

A LETTER TO THE FUTURE..

http://blabberblah.wordpress.com/2009/08/25/a-letter-to-the-future/

LAST POST WRITTEN ON 29TH JULY, was after this one.

http://blabberblah.wordpress.com/2010/07/22/college-again-and-my-shift-key-breaks/

It’s difficult for me to talk about it now. All I would say is we have decided it would help tremendously to channelize our grief in some positive direction. A relative hugged me during her funeral and said, “Now this grief will go with you to your grave. Till the last moment of your life, till your last breath, this baby you gave birth to and loved is going to make you cry.” And suddenly something snapped. My daughter was an easy child to raise. My dearest friend and my closest ally, a confidante, a companion, we talked endlessly, we shopped, we read, we laughed at the same things and I never had to face any of the parenting problems one hears about. I feel I was extremely fortunate to have her with me for the best nineteen and a half years of my life. The thought of crying and not smiling fondly whenever I thought of her – a girl who never made anybody cry… I knew I did not want that.

We have all decided to talk about her without bitterness. One of her closest friends visited me and helped reactivate her Facebook account. (I had persuaded Tejaswee to deactivate it last month because I felt she was spending too much time on facebook). We have decided to understand that everybody has to go someday, she left earlier than we would have liked. We have decided to see which of her causes we can support. One of the thoughts is to start a scholarship in her name, maybe a fund. I would appreciate suggestions for this. And also any suggestions that help us stay positive.

Indian Homemaker

Born: 19th Jan 1991.

Died: 11th Aug 2010.

Tejaswee’s blog.

A LETTER TO THE FUTURE..

http://blabberblah.wordpress.com/2009/08/25/a-letter-to-the-future/

LAST POST WRITTEN ON 29TH JULY, was after this one.

http://blabberblah.wordpress.com/2010/07/22/college-again-and-my-shift-key-breaks/

It’s difficult for me to talk about it now. All I would say is we have decided it would help tremendously to channelize our grief in some positive direction. A relative hugged me during her funeral and said, “Now this grief will go with you to your grave. Till the last moment of your life, till your last breath, this baby you gave birth to and loved is going to make you cry.” And suddenly something snapped. My daughter was an easy child to raise. My dearest friend and my closest ally, a confidante, a companion, we talked endlessly, we shopped, we read, we laughed at the same things and I never had to face any of the parenting problems one hears about. I feel I was extremely fortunate to have her with me for the best nineteen and a half years of my life. The thought of crying and not smiling fondly whenever I thought of her – a girl who never made anybody cry… I knew I did not want that.

We have all decided to talk about her without bitterness. One of her closest friends visited me and helped reactivate her Facebook account. (I had persuaded Tejaswee to deactivate it last month because I felt she was spending too much time on facebook). We have decided to understand that everybody has to go someday, she left earlier than we would have liked. We have decided to see which of her causes we can support. One of the thoughts is to start a scholarship in her name, maybe a fund. I would appreciate suggestions for this. And also any suggestions that help us stay positive.

She received two platelet transfusions and today her platelet count is stable at 43000  – very low but not falling any lower again. But her lungs are half filled with fluid, kidney, lever, pancreas and gall bladder are affected. She is on catheter and respirator and is being fed through IV.

Last night was the worst – I watched her suffer acute pain till 5 30 am, after which it was found the pain was due to inflamed pancrease and she was given a safe pain killer. But although she is alert and positive,  - she looks drained – her eyes are puffy, her face has a bluish grey tinge , her abdomen is four times it’s usual size and she feels the catheter is uncomfortable, and being breathless makes talking very difficult for her.

The doctor said yesterday to ‘Wait and watch’  – today they are saying ” She is very sick.” I am very scared.

Yesterday in pain she told the doctor, “It should be like this, this pain is really unbearable it should be shared between children and parents.”  And the doctor said, “If that was possible, no child would ever suffer any pain.” I have never felt so helpless in my life, it all depends on how fast the viral lasts – generally not more than 8 days, but still there is fluid in her body, all caplillaries are leaking (because her blood has become very thin)… once the dengue fever goes – the fluid will be absorbed, the dehydration will end, she will start feeling comfortable..

“Great then I also want to watch the last night’s show I missed yesterday!”

So my mom caught two shows I strongly disapprove of, one after another. We ate lunch while watching a group of women circling a peepal tree, praying for their husband’s long life and listening to Savitri’s story.

Savitri snatched her husband back from Yama, the god of death. (Even if we don’t hear of it, I am sure her husband would have done the same for her.) She asked Yama for a hundred sons… (and not one daughter) so he had to return her husband so she could have those hundred sons (no daughters). Now the entire nation seems to follow numerous examples like this, and everybody wants sons.

Gandhari in Mahabharata also asked for a hundred sons. Didn’t they miss having daughters? Sons are fine and good, but isn’t it fun for women to have life-long friends in their daughters?

I saw a friend transform. She had problems at home, and she didn’t seem to care how she looked or lived. She dressed conservatively, wore drab colours and seldom stepped out of her house.

Then her daughter grew up

During the last few years she took the mother with her to the gym, got her a haircut, both got a music teacher, they go for movies and shopping together,  and the daughter gradually changed her mother’s entire wardrobe. This happens with many women. Grown up daughters become best friends and allies. My friend’s problems are still there but now she has someone who understands and stands by her. She also looks visibly more confident with her new look.

When we were teenagers, my mother used to say she had heard of mothers being close to sons, and wondered why nobody said anything about the amount of fun mothers have with daughters.

My favourite poem by Usha Pisharody says it so well!

For a Daughter I Wish I’d Had!!!

By Usha Pisharody

Audacious smiles

laughter ringing clear-
warm hugs and
little sudden pecks on my cheeks!
A whirlwind of a girl;
now here, gone in a flash!
endearing entreaties-
unquestioning love!
Long long hours of girlish talk-
boys, books, heroes and men!
Life, love, trust and THAT!
Confiding giggles-
while ogling the boys…;)
summing them up, then
walking by in disdain!!
Cheering her up
when sadness strikes-
being there for her…
just in case, she asks!
Holding her hand-
without her knowing..
as only moms can do;
though she, being mine,
would know it too…!!!
Sharing myself with her-
my fears, my joys
my secrets, and my ploys-
Ending the day in warmth
so wonderful
so fierce and filling..
Wishing each mother had
a daughter..
so like mine!!

And a little girl is 19 now.

I love lazy Sundays like today, and the racket is a change.

So I am not demanding that the music volume be brought down. The kids are watching All the single ladies (Beyonce) on Video Music Awards, on Vh1.

I know we will have only the sounds of ESPN and Son’s guitar playing again soon.

But there were other noises in the house today.

Of Daughter demanding to know how many aloo paranthas Son had, because only palak-paranthas were left while she waited for pickle (to be home delivered by the local grocery-wala), and then after some negotiations, she emerged triumphantly in front of the TV with the rationed, carbohydrates packed aloo paranthas on her plate.

When my mom saw her like this in Delhi she declared that she had ‘gone on my husband’s side’!  ;)

(He he she has forgotten my siblings’ who-ate-more-mangoes fights every summer.)

When I let her go to a (well-organised) trip to Europe some of the same people were surprised. They didn’t realize that my worry was never the chance of their becoming …err corrupted, but their being safe. We tend to mix mistrust with protectiveness. Anyway today my mom (she never thought I was overprotective) called to say she was proud of her grand daughter, and was glad she was more like her than me

So the sounds heard in this house might be different for the two following weeks.

Endless conversation. Constant music. Excited barking. HBO. And an occasional sibling argument.

Two pairs of eyes will follow a human and they will look like they understand every word when she sings to them, her usual…

I better rush, it’s time to pick her.

I watched this crazy, funny, spirited adaptation of a popular musical, on HBO. After ages I liked ABBA again…  Money money money, SOS (Pierce Brosnan and Meryl Streep), Does your Mother know (with a difference ), Take a chance on me , Dancing Queen, Voulez Vous, Honey Honey , many more, and of course Mama mia.

But why blog about just another funny movie?

Donna reminded me of Juno. If Juno was heart broken, pregnant and thrown out of her house, and if she had happily raised her baby on her own on a beautiful, sunny Greek island…??  

Chocolat (the book, not the movie. The movie isn’t as good I’ve heard) and Mama mia have this in common: both are beautiful, moving, happy stories of single mothers and their daughters. I just couldn’t help wondering how some women raise their little girls with no support and how some other mothers agree to abort them (Edited to add: I only mean females fetuses/sex selection)… and never learn what they have lost.

Donna’s love for her daughter and her reluctance to let go can be heard seen in this moving song… Slipping through my fingers [click to watch].

We have all in the family, all four of us gone through atleast one bout of viral fever in the past ten days, it could have been a mild attack of H1N1? The family doctor said not to worry, in my case I was prescibed Allegra (anti allergy) and it worked almost immidiately.

These masks have appeared over the weekend!

We had been looking forward to the Independence Day Weekend. Yesterday I booked flight tickets for Daughter. To my joy when I started paying, it announced that the price of purchase had changed… the prices had dropped by half!

What happened? Petrol prices dropped? No.

Nobody wants to come to Pune?!

Must tell Daughter to wear a mask, I thought…

I was still ginning at the deal, when I got a call from her saying her friends are concerned about her visiting Pune. My first thought? – “What? They are scared? Aren’t we living here? …” But their concerns are justified of course. She could carry the H1N1 virus from here…

Then I got a call from Make my trip, asking if I wanted to cancel the booking, and I got an instant full refund too! (Since the tickets had not yet been delivered etc…

Took some pictures of the streets of Pune, I am not sure how safe these masks are.

I wish some political parties would distribute and organise free and readily available information (pamphlets, TV shows, Radio and Telephone helplines) in more than one languages. Apart from the flu we also have ignorance and misinformation here (expected under the circumstances).

It’s easy to talk about not-panicking, it’s not that difficult to make sure enough information is available to everybody. Ignorance spreads either panic or ‘sab chalta hai‘ attitude…that was my attitude while delighting in the good deal I got above.

EDITED TO ADD: Read all about symptoms, prevention and treatment of Novel H1N1 here on Malayalidoc’s blog.

Husband and I discussed how our lives have changed.

Called friends who have kids around the same age, and talked some more about how our lives are changing. I watched the news and switched on the laptop.

I watched the news about Omar Abdullah’s resignation. I read and fumed at the virginity tests conducted in Madhya Pradesh. I heard the news about a woman in Bihar being humiliated, molested in broad day light, watched Andhra Congress MLA slap a supermarket employee.

Air-washed Son’s pillow.

Breathed in fresh, cool, clean monsoon air.

It’s good to be home when you have been away so long.

Even if a room in this house is neater than it has ever been before.

NOTE: I had diabled comments thinking this post was too similar to’Where was I?’… but have enabled comments now…

Listening to my mum insist she let us choose what to study, but now it’s time for her granddaughter to fulfill her grandmother’s dreams, and hence choose Medicine/Civil Services/etc as careers.

And then being humbled almost to tears by the ease with which she accepted that whatever her granddaughter wishes to do is great, so long as she studies in Delhi …close to her.

Photocopying certificates, going through prospectuses, filling forms….

And biting my nails wondering if she is right in giving up Science and if there really is life beyond Medicine and Engineering as careers… Knowing full well there is.

Keeping my fingers crossed.

Taking endless photographs. Taking photographs of Daughter’s room. Her new roommate and new friends…

Photographs of her sitting in the car painting her toe nails blue. Realizing that in many ways this is the beginning of the end of the kind of life she has known so far… hoping the excitement of a new life helps combat homesickness.

Reminding myself that I have benefited immensely from being independent, she deserves that chance too.

Watching my mother telling her to be brave and to be careful, trying not to show how scared she is herself. Realising she has been through this before, though we never sensed it.

Being forwarded the first email she sent, to her dad, from her very own USB Modem.

Reading Son congratulate his sister on Facebook!

Not from the next room, but from another city

… and that’s how it’s going to be now.

When my kids were younger they always had cell phones with them when they went for school trips or summer camps etc. They were to have their own phones, after class ten exams. Rules were discussed and agreed upon. The biggest being that the purpose of the phones was to stay connected, if they can’t pick the phone when called, they must call back as soon possible.

They were also advised to stick to using the phone only for making calls, no Airtel Live etc… basically they were expected to be responsible.

We agreed that if these rules were broken, their new phones  would be replaced with a very old, black and white mobile we have at home.

Daughter got hers an year before her brother. She never overspent and always responded when I called (or called back).

I patted my own back.

The school allowed cell phones to be left at the reception, to be  picked up while going back home. It was good to know we could call them when they were on their way home.

The cellphone also became a creative toy. The camera ensured we were shown the mock-fights in the school bus, we saw a friend’s new shoes or tattoos, (which she also wanted) …and occasionally portraits of teachers sketched in the back pages of notebooks. Soon all this went on Facebook, and all the cousins across the globe (and their parents) enjoyed watching them grow.

Once she was on a school trip, she called at 3 am, frightened because another kid was not well. The teacher in charge did not want to disturb the parents. They planned to take the child to a local clinic in the morning. I think any health problem – no matter how small it appears, should be first and immediately reported to the parents. I called the child’s parents, who knew what the child was allergic to, and guided the teacher on the phone. We told our kids to call any parents in any such emergencies in future.

So I couldn’t see how anybody could find anything wrong with teenagers having their own cell phones. For me it was reassuring to know they could reach us wherever they were.

Then came the Son’s turn. Same rules. None followed. His cellphone stayed more in my wardrobe less in his pocket. Finally I let him have his phone and kept the sim card in my wallet.

Before somebody says ‘boys will be boys’….

They also say the first child is the easiest to raise, the ‘HW before playing’, and ‘Please-ThankYou-Sorry applied wherever required’ child.

They say, the second  child shakes all smugness out of the parents. My sister, a second child, did amaze me with her innovations at being difficult, she in turn called me ‘goody-goody-miss-prim-and-proper’  ;)

Now she calls to rant sbout how she who found her first born so easy to raise is ‘about to have a heart attack’ with her second child, her soon to be 15 daughter. The Son is vegan, music loving, Saif Ali Khan look-alike, with a scholarly girl friend. The second child, the daughter, makes her see what she put our mom through

Still this is like Astrology, to be taken lightly…. there can be no generalizations I guess. Each child is different. And it has to be only the parents who should decide if and when the kids should be allowed to use a cell phone.

But I am tempted to ask if other parents and first and second borns agree that the second child is born with special skills to shake any smugness out of their parents  unlike the first born who lets you think you have done a great job… Do you think this is true?

Let me tag Charakan, Usha Pisharody, Shail, Saritha, Ritu, Mavin.

Also these first borns, Indyeah, Kislay and Chirag.  And anybody else who would like to pick this tag.

Please do let me know if you pick this tag

In 1996. (from my personal diary)

Sibling 1 has left her own Pepsi glass to look at Sibling 2′s Pepsi glass.

“How much of yours is left?“

I still have no idea why she wanted to know how much of his Pepsi was left.

He says this was because she knew she will finish hers and proceed to beg him for his.

She says she didn’t want to finish hers before he finished his.

Edited to add:

Alankrita asks. ‘Why 64?’

This is a better video…

Niece 8, asking, ‘You never, ever get angry with your kids?’

2. Pride (mixed with the realization that somebody needs a shaking.)

Daughter says, ‘I can’t feel strongly about feminism ma, I haven’t seen any of this discrimination you talk about …’

3. Helplessness

A friend’s daughter, “Whatever they say aunty, we may be good at studies, equally independent – everything, …but for our parents we are still girls… we can never be equal to boys…”

(Just like that in the middle of a random conversation about something unrelated)

1. To the niece.

IHM: “err umm I don’t like to, but sometimes I do… err umm…”

Accusing, stern eyes, “What can make you angry with them?

IHM: Err… (really lost) … err sometimes they get late for school, if I don’t pretend to be angry they’ll miss their bus, then we have to drop them…and then on top of that she says, I should let her drive!”

“Maybe it’s a trick so that you let her drive! You should let her drive.”

IHM: “But she needs a license M!”

Serious, considering eyes: But what’s there to be angry in this? You can explain this nicely also?

IHM: I should you know, normally I do… only rarely sometimes if I am angry, or tired …

Serious, grandmotherly eyes: You should sleep in time.

2. To the brat (daughter): A long lecture, and a reading list.

3. To the friends’ daughter: (very casually) Yeah I know…we went through a lot of this too, but ended it with our generation, mothers have more power than they realise, nice weather, no?? We can change the thinking of a generation… you will be in a position to put an end to such discrimination in your immediate family, don’t let this continue… Cute hair clips! …Biases can actually even strengthen us…

If only I didn’t know and like her mother, I could have said so much more.

But now I do talk to her mother about a whole lot of things including how my mother sometimes confused me, with talk of independence within limits, equality but not too much equality, ….about how girls need even more support… about how a girl’s tattoo, and noodle straps, don’t necessarily clash with her dreams of a happy, bright, independent future, where marriage is just one of the nice things, (not the reason for her existence).

I wonder how else could I handled it, specially the last one…

Fussy eaters,

Messy rooms,

Too much TV, too much face book,

Too much junk food…

Walking bare foot …

Long hair,

A dislike for cleanliness

Muddy shoes on the carpet

Tears and tantrums

Stitches on the chin, cold, chicken pox and sprained ankles

All are a part of growing up?

Woolen jacket left at home on a cold day,

Forgetting lunch boxes at home.

Acne and dandruff.

Staying up till late,

Full dinner plates stuffed in the fridge with red gravy tricking into everything else…

Pizza for breakfast, Pepsi instead of milk,

Clothes on the floor, smelly socks in the study table drawers

All these don’t upset me.

But I don’t like being a mother when there are riots in the city.

Last minute waking up to school projects,

A ten year old prepared for Maths on the day of History exam.

New water bottles, endless thirst, and a wet kitchen floor.

New bicycles and scraped knees.

Skateboard practice in the living room,

Football in the kitchen

A yet uncut birthday cake all over a new dress.

Licking cake batter perched on the kitchen counter.

Books forgotten in the balcony during monsoons,

An ironed bed-sheet thrown on the dining table to create a doll’s house underneath

Finding a personal diary on the sofa, with complains about your disciplining.

Letters to Santa asking for a forbidden Puppy.

Egg in the wardrobe to make it hatch.

Old videos of two sulking faces, refusing to pose.

Cards proclaiming undying love to Papa, all incorrectly spelled.

Almost toppling you, with violent hugging.

Long, lanky, awkward arms

On stage singing out of tune.

Singing louder to the whole building from the bathroom.

Picnics in the society park and a favorite basket left behind;

A summer camp most hated and an old camera lost forever,

Trying to light a camp fire inside a quilt.

Dance classes, music classes, karate classes, drama classes – left half way because of boredom.

Fancy dress parties, and hating the outfit!

Refusing to get out of the swimming pool.

Wanting to drive today because ‘all friends do’.

Tasting turpentine at 15 months.

Crying because the home work is not done …

Crying because the biggest enemy has scored more…

Laughing hysterically because the sibling is clowning foolishly ..

I think I like everything about being a mother.

Except the helpless feeling you get when you feel this world does not deserve children. Meaningless violence, wars, rioting frighten me like they never did before.

I don’t like that about being a mother.

Monika and Goofy Mumma tagged me write this post about What I like best about being a mother. Thank You for tagging me!! I love all Mommy tags, but I changed this one slightly

I would like to pass this tag to

Imp’s Mom

Varunavi

Solilo

Happy Kitten

Shail

Usha Pisharody

Prerna

Abha

The Ruminator

Amrutha

Sandhya

Mampi

Ritu Harish

I would also like to pass this tag to some great dads in the blogosphere,

Rakesh

Masood

Hitchwriter

Charakan

Mavin

Mr Gopinath

Mr Balvinder Singh

Mr Joshi

IHM: “Err it’s okay, she will be fine ...”

My Mom: She didn’t listen to you? Give me her mobile number. Let me speak to her …

IHM: “Ma, I have seen the place, and I liked the design she chose …“

My Mom: ‘Tattoo is same thing that our bai has on her arm? Oh! It must be one of those stick-on things?“

IHM: “Err no actually it is the permanent kinds. But don’t worry, she is a sensible girl … I have considered all these things. And so has she. It’s her arm ma “

My Mom: “You allowed her to get a permanent tattoo! “

IHM: “Maa I had bigger concerns, the place is hygienic, and they use disposable needles …”

My Mom: “You give the phone to your your Lord and Master!“

IHM: He isn’t home

My Mom: Son is home?

IHM: Son?? Yeah …

So I give the phone to Son, who had been busy with his home work.

This is what I hear (He isn’t too comfortable with Hindi.)

“Yeah but Nani times have changed, zamana abhi badal gaya hai nani !”

“Nani but she is .. err woh aaj ke zamane ki ladki hai! “

“But it’s her hand nani, she likes it, and all our friends also have tattoos …”

” ….no she can’t jump in a well if they do but err … it’s a very common thing these days, now times have changed a lot … “

“Me? No? I have not thought about getting one for myself Nani… err Thank You Nani “

“…but actually it is not considered a bad thing these days, your time was very different … now we have modern technology.”

“Yes Nani you are also modern.“

“Okay Nani. Er but nani, .. err but if your daughter wanted a tattoo what would you have said?”

“Oh!….. Yes Nani.”

” But actually Mamma is also planning to get one.”

“Nani wants to speak to you.”

The phone is handed back to me.

Yes.

2. WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME?

Yes. (No interesting answers here!)

“How can someone NOT eat when pregnant? Dr Are you sure this nausea isn’t jaundice?“
And then a kind friend told us where to get GORDON BOURNE’s ‘Pregnancy’. That changed the whole attitude

Read all about it here

Wasn’t sure she would be a Capricorn or an Aquarius!

Enough to make me wish I wasn’t pregnant. Hated the first trimester. Lost weight, threw up a lot.

Plums, Chole Bhature, rasam, Bhindi fried without jeera, chappaties without ghee, cucumber, ..Mom’s cooking.

11. WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST?
After the first trimester, almost nothing.
Not even being advised to drink pure ghee, not even people saying avoid this eclipse and that food, gain more weight or don’t get wet in the rain, don’t dance, don’t wear jeans, don’t sit on a bike …
I had my bible in Gordon Bourne’s pregnancy

No. We would have been happy with either, didn’t matter.

No baby shower, and didn’t miss it either.

Four-Five hours.

Strolled into the hospital, it was almost next door . She was born just a few hours after the due date, so it went as planned.

Natural.

No. But was seriously considering it.

At 6 42 am
The doc told me to look up and see the time, because she realised the baby will be born with one more push. I was tired, so she said “Feel the head, it’s almost out!”, and I felt her head, as soft as my elbow. Next minute she was crying like a typical Bollywood new born!

I asked to hold her. She twitched her mouth and I saw a dimple, and then I think it was the relief and disbelief that it was all over without the world coming to an end, I laughed aloud and thanked everybody (almost silly it seems now, but I have read many mothers do this).

She is a teenager. Her shoe size is bigger than mine

Like Abha who tagged me, my pregnancy was one of the funnest times of my life.
Did all kind of things to have a happy baby. Read good books, listened to good music, took pictures, exercised, picnicked in the hills. Add to that the hormones make your skin and hair look so much nicer. Everybody had predicted it was going to be a girl
I had expected someone like me, she turned out to be like my sister

I would like to tag Imp’s Mom, Indyana, cantaloupes.amma, Phoenixritu, Varunavi, Ugich Konitari, Ritu, Priyanka, Sandhya, Mampi, How do we know, Pr3rna, Bones, Nimmy, Monika, 2B’s Mommy, Goofy Mamma, Solilo, Shail, UshaPisharody and MySpace, Tearsndreams, Just call me A and Dipali. And the newset blogging mom I know, Aneela
Anybody else who would like to do this tag, simply must do it … do let me know when the tag is done, it will be a pleasure to read it. Also wondering, did you laugh out loud like I did?

In every party,

In the park, in the lift, in the club,

Experienced and confident,

The young and the not so young mothers

Conspiratorially assured me.

“Not showing much! Easy Pregnancy? It will be a daughter.”

“Daughters are easy to bear and bring up. ”

And “Daughters are such angels.“

A daughter!?
I hoped she’d have my sister in law’s hair …
My brother’s eyes.

And her dad’s knack for sports.

And then the much awaited first cry
like in the movies …

I had grabbed her greedily

To see the face
that belonged to the tender feet that had been gently kicking beneath my ribs all these months.
The first thing I had seen,
even before the misshapen head and the flattened nose
was a dimple on a yet unwashed cheek

I had never given much thought to babies …

and then a strand of hair from my perspiring exhausted head

Caught in her little fist.

That strand of hair could actually have cut her skin!

This little demanding thing for all the noise she made |

For all her capacity to keep a family awake

Couldn’t open or close her fist at will.

She couldn’t see clearly,

Couldn’t scratch herself,

She didn’t even know I was her mother.

But she learnt fast,

She would pretend to choke to get me to attend to her immediately

And give herself away with a wicked victorious grin.

This little miracle
That changed our lives

She became the centre of our being.

But where was that angel I was promised?
No lipstick survived her
No book could be read except to her
Although Walt Disney collections echoed in the house
The endless circles and spirals she drew on every piece of paper
looked nowhere like Minnie and Micky mouse

Did someone say daughters are innocent?
The little mermaid’s washroom dilemmas were a matter of grave concern
Moisturizers were applied to teddy bears and clean blankets

Porridge was fed to all soft toys (what mess!)
Dolls had high fever
and they were read to
And often responsibility forced upon us …
Oh how I loved to see her asleep!

Daddy’s shoes were preferred to her own
My skirts were worn as off shoulder gowns

When she was five, I was advised to use my perfumes sparingly
And take good care of all my clothes
She couldn’t imagine what she’d inherit
If I finished everything before she reached my height.

But they grow so fast,
Soon you have nothing left in your wardrobe
that’s entirely your own
And then you hear yourself wonder
she is seventeen!!
Time truly does fly …

So I call my mother
“I am going to have an eighteen year old child! Can you believe it, she will be eighteen!”

“So what did you think IHM,
after seventeen she was going back to being sixteen?“

Edited to add: You may also like to read ‘What are little boys made up of? ‘

I am on my laptop, Daughter (17), is sprawled diagonally across the bed, finishing an school assignment. Son’s practicing guitar in his room. Contentment is this.

Suddenly, “How do you know when you are really, reeally in love?“
I thought madam was studying!
“When the guy wants to see you as successful as your own parents do, because nobody can care for you like your own parents can.”

“Maaaaa.”

“Okay. But this is not a good time for love or even for minor crushes!! You have so much to do, you have seen how your friends waste their time, first celebrating, then crying, break ups, moping, making up or making out and they have no time to think of their future … you get emotional about a guy at this age and at this crucial stage of your life and all your dreams will go kaput.“

“That’s why I think you just say you won’t mind if I had a boyfriend! If I really had one, you won’t like it. Now I know why they (her friends) don’t tell their mothers.”

(Feeling terribly guilty and wondering if what she says is true …)
“Okay, being in love, really in love, would be a best friend cum crush, with maybe some chemistry thrown in?“

“Yeah, and someone who likes me the way I am, I shouldn’t need to pretend …“

“Meaning he gets to see how you keep your room? Okay, someone whose parents you like, someone who can come home, and walk into the kitchen and discuss my blog with me ? You saw ‘Jaane tu ya jaane na’ – that’s a cool relationship.”

She can see ‘he’ is not that kind. I am just not sure I have said the right things. Maybe my confused Indian values make me wish she’d stay away from any boy friends until she’s settled with a good career … we are fed with so much t, c & mv ( Traditions, Culture and Moral Values) that when a trusting heart wants you to be a friend you are not sure what to say.

SOME ADVICE PLEASE!