SOULspace

 Life is experienced twice. While you go through it and while you remember it looking back! She was 17years old , when they took her to the studio to pose for a picture. This was very different from the usual pose of a bride to be; rigid, hands crossed in front staring at the camera. Here she was dressed in a velvet blouse and silk saree, seated on a bench of sorts and holding a Veena in her hand. The way you would imagine Raja Ravi Varma to paint his Goddess Saraswathi! Rajamma , my maternal grandmother was a proficient vainika and vocalist, showing an immense talent at a very young age. She would often accompany her elder brother on performances, enthralling the audience with her throw, range and A pitch. The family really thought they would become musicians of repute, until cruel fate struck a blow and took the brother's breathe as Tuberculosis. The only alternate was marriage for a girl like her and when a suitable proposal arrive, they sent her off along with the Veena and her...

There I have said it... I have actually wanted to write about this for the past 4 months, but just don't have the discipline to put pen to paper, or as the case here, finger to keyboard. What have I disclosed? Hmmm...my daughter fits into my clothes!! (Picture me with a wry face!!) How does that make me feel? Proud, happy, awestruck Bemused, sad, and a wee bit scared... Whoa...I thought the first time it happened... is she that big?!! Well, let me set the context here. My daughter learns Carnatic music and till 4 months back she was allowed to wear long skirts and tee for classes. I guess the long became too flowy and unwieldy and definitely distracting for some children, so the rule now is to wear kurtas/ salwar to class. So she picked out her only kurta and legging and wore it for class. Then the next class came and the absent minded mother that I am, I had done nothing to enhance her wardrobe. So she started scouting....conveniently in my cupboard.  Lo and b...

I must thank Anu for putting me on to this blog.... http://bookslinksandmore.blogspot.com/ It is fascinating as a mother to read another mother's journey. While my children were very small, I felt disconnected and so lost from the outside world. It is only in the past 5 years that blogging and internet has opened up such wonderful sharing. At the click of a mouse I am in someone's head, actually experiencing and listening to their thoughts.... This particular blog is by a mother who is parenting 2 gifted children. Surely she must be gifted. Her latest post triggered my thoughts today. She talks about her son's journey into the musical world, his forays into composing and the happiness he gets from it... In a different way but somewhat similar way I too have a story to share... I was a special educator while expecting my first child....(that was my avatar before this new one of a storyteller!). So you can imagine, I had severe pre-conceived notions and ideas of what...

I feel so yuppy....my children have joined Tennis classes... It went this way: I've been looking for some activity that would inspire them and kick them off their respective posteriors parked in front of the idiot box. We tried drawing classes, but that's a skill you can actually develop while cosily lounging on your own bed, in your own house and at your own leisure...unless the drawing teacher is really fun, and is showing you some really creative stuff.... But what we got was pages of pattern drawing, that got a good, a tick or a star. Kind of getting where I am going?.... Yep we had to let that pass...money down the drain...but to my defence we managed 6 classes out of the registered 8, so its not all that much. Then comes my favourite point of view that learning a sport is extremely useful for children. Was contemplating Tennis and Badminton...weighing them, when we found this academy for federers and sanias... Coach: Tall, friendly guy from namma Tamilnadu...Mad...

"Amma, he is putting his foot in my mouth!" "Amma, he is not letting me into the bathroom"! "Amma, he is kicking me" "Amma he has taken my pencil" "Amma he is trying to remove my panties!!!!!" "Amma she is calling me cheeky( as in chubby cheeks!!)!" "Amma she is staring at me" "Amma she is teasing me" "Amma she is irritating me" "Amma he is an idiot, pig, I hate him" "Amma ask her to get out of the house...." Hullo.....What do we have here??! They torment and trouble each other, they fuss and fight, they argue and crib...they are a circus pantomime with-all-the-sound-effects act. I wonder how and where we are heading with this. I am ineffectual as you can see. Poor disciplinarian. I am either pacifying one or the other. Or at other times, just plain give up and ask them to please take a knife and kill each other... Ok...I know that's rotten a...

His favourite place is by my side. Peeping over my shoulders, peering from a gap betwixt my arms. How much? What next? What do I add now? Amma, Amma, Amma… Questions and queries are fired at me. Yes. He is my little helper! The kitchen is where he likes to be… with me. Giving me a helping hand whether I want it or not! He pulls up a stool and places it right where I need to stand near the stove! “Can we place this to the left a bit?” I ask politely. “Ammmmma…I can’t see then” he whines. I roll my eyes in exasperation, as I try to move the furniture to a spot mutually agreeable by us! Then the instructions start. You have to tell me what you want. I will bring it for you is his reasonable request. Which I promptly forget as I reach out for this or that. Not that my kitchen is so large I can’t just put my hand out or up, and get it for myself. But I must heed the little boss. Cut up with me, he upbraids me. “I want to get it for you, I want to get it for you” he repeat...

I feel happy that my daughter is part of a schooling experience that really exposes her to different communities and cultures. I may have many other cribs about the school, but The Kendriya Vidyalaya schools have one thing that they offer children, an exposure to India and the essence of living in a cultural Pongal Pot(Pongal is a kind of Khichidi, or a rice and Dal mixture)!! They have inspection days, basically days when the children yet again don't study but prepare cultural shows and programs. Don't harangue me, but sometimes I think they do nothing else, so that is my crib! I cribbed about getting her dressed up yet again, just to stand there for the arrival of the chief guest.Yet she loves this, so ok, but please dont agree to every get up the teacher assigns to you, I told her. "Mean" you may think, but I have to draw the line somewhere, otherwise I will be stretching my creative abilities. She had to go as a Maharashtrian girl. So some running around and ...

Don't berate me on the quality of the pictures, but I just wanted to capture what my daughter and I landed up making after I saw these lovely Yarn Paintings. Yarn Paintings are part of North American Culture or so I am told. These were actually illustrations for a story "The Journey of Tunuri and the Blue Deer" reviewed in Saffron Tree, as a part of their on going Book Review Festival. You can follow this link to see that story review, and many others...click here It is extremely simple and my daughter who is the creative one, really loved the idea. All you need is some yarn, wool in different shades and gum, paper. If you twirl the yarn around into concentric circles, it really looks good. I guess art is all about doing and experiencing. She could not complete it and Sunday morning, she was at it without even brushing her teeth!! The one above is hers, and the one below is mine.

I am an Auto Mom. That means I do my bit and leave it at that.I am not the type to record every little footstep, word, profundities that my kids expound. Not that I have anything against those who do that, no offense please. I am actually too lazy and I guess any type of routine bores me quite soon, leaving me to drop it and look for some thing else, more entertaining.( And they say kids have attention deficit!!) So I started recording what my first born was doing. That lasted about 5 months, then intermittently till she was about 1 year and 3 months. The last I recorded was that she had taken her first few steps....and then it's a blank;...I mean my record book! She went on to walk, albeit with great many falls and bruises, and also went on to talk, still continues to talk. So much so that she has started complaining to Dad that I don't show any interest in what she has to say any longer. (But sweetheart, you must understand my attention span is very short..poor girl I know I...

Here is one story that I am doing out of compulsion! A compulsion to be fair and open. A compulsion which drives me to see things as it is! A compulsion to tell things as it is. So, that's enough with the prelude, let me get to the point. I am compelled to write about the poor expectant father syndrome(PEF)! In all fairness, they are the poor neglected lot. We fuss over the mother-to-be. We inquire about her health. Is she eating well, is she resting, walking, reading good books, thinking good thoughts?!! Morning sickness, is it bad? Does it happen in the evening? Oh, yes that can happen too... Baby moving, funny feeling isn't it? Is she kicking badly? Does it hurt? You poor thing! BUT what about that guy who occupies the same space as that pampered soul? (Ok Ok, I can see some women, up in arms. "He" did not pamper me could be their contention. Mmm... possible! But I talk about the general population. The average expectant mother is pampered by her better half ...

When no more than a cell, She protected us and nurtured us, Held us in her womb. Coursing her blood and breathe within us, Waiting for that day, for the unseen to be seen! Every birth is a story To be recounted many years hence, To willing or unwilling ears By her, as she lives through An experience very few can forget. She is there when we smile For the first time, She is there when we cry for the hundredth time! She is there to see our rage, Our anger and our bitter acrimony. She is there when we are failing, To see reason and the right way. She is there when we are confused, And unable to comprehend. She is there to infuse courage At moments when we are unable. She is there to see us take pride, In deeds and acts that make us. She is there to see us take, Our first tentative steps into adulthood. She is there to coax and cajole us, She is there to pacify and console us, She is there to smile and humor us, She is there to beat and scold us!! We take her for granted Until that day w...

(Tumultuous mind Seething emotions Thoughts run helter skelter) Little hands and feet, Pull me hither and thither. Not a moment to breathe Not a minute to spare Enjoyable ..yet tiresome. When a tired head is laid on my lap, When an eager hand grasps my finger, When pattering feet run towards me, When puckered lips reach for my cheeks, When twinkling eyes sparkle with mischief, ..When we want to give up, throw up our hands, Even then.. ...by far the naughtiest cheekiest mischievous little tot.. Even then my lovable son You charm me with your antics...

The Mi(gh)ty rule the world!! You wonder what this all about? It’s a stale subject, more has been written about them, than less. I call it the beginning of the Creased Eyebrow Symptom and the Perpetual Frown Syndrome!! Yes, it’s about Mommy Dom, it’s about Infant Raj. Feudalism at its best!! Lilliputians rule over the Goliaths in this land of servitude!! As a mother of two who have passed their toddler hood, anyone would assume I am the epitome of calm , maturity, understanding, and most importantly control …well folks, I can only say this; Reality differs drastically from ones deepest desires…especially where the K word is involved…yes I mean Kids…!! Lets do a rewind and I’ll take you back to a time when donning that role was uppermost in my mind. (In spite of husband’s dire warnings!). Well, for your information, he came with more than adequate experience on this front, having raised or I should say, having witnessed the raising of six nieces, distributed evenly among his three sib...

You must be wondering why, I'm weighing such heavy thoughts in my mind. It is stream which was activated by an article that I read in The Hindu, by Usha Jesudasen. She asks us how we practice Ahimsa at home, and goes on to say that Ahimsa is not some deep philosophy but is a way of life and asks us to examine our lives to see if we do practice it. She says it is not about renunciation, it is about sharing and caring. I quite agree with her. Ahimsa is non-violence in thought and action. In these times when there is such cut throat competition and violence you may think I'm anachronistic. Violence and aggression is an animal instinct. In fact the smile is a grimace of aggression that slowly evolved into this expression of recognition. I digress...Coming back to Ahimsa, I think we can learn from children. I remember my son was taking part in a running race during an event organized in our apartment. He had to run to a point, put on a T-shirt and then run back to the starting po...

again repeated twice over !  None prepared , Not all ready.  She jerks me out of complacency!  No more late mornings  No more breakfast in bed  She'll wake you in the wee hours  Howling to be fed! Its like being hit by lightning  Swift and shocking!  And our toddler is way ahead Shoving and pushing.   Move over things You are all not to be spared!

Written for my first baby, echoed on arrival of the second too !  The anticipation at the begin' continues within....  Thoughts of you my baby Encompass me like a blanket.  A time, I cherish, this bond, These special moments.  Are you mine? I wonder.  This is the beauty of nature  The marvels of creation.  Cliches for sure, yet for each  An inexplicable experience Unique.  This cozy haven,for you,  Created in me, to hold,  Till you are ready to face us,....me.  Stay there little one safe and sound  Because, you are not yet, to meet the world!