Behind Every Successful Woman

Behind every successful man, they say, is a woman- It could be a wife (primarily), a mother (often), a girlfriend, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a colleague or a subordinate too. And what about the numerous successful women who have achieved the same success as that of 'successful' men? Actually, if we can do away with those done-to-death parameters for a while, every person is successful in their own way, but let's keep that discussion for some other day!

So, coming back to what started here- who is behind a successful woman? Are there women here who can say that there is a man behind their success. Does a man, any man, have it in himself to contribute selflessly to a woman's success, like a woman does for a man?

Women are inherently wired to put others before themselves, especially when it comes to putting their husbands and children before themselves. Even at workplaces, women find it difficult and even impossible at times to take the lead, to take credit for a task done by a team (which comes to men very naturally) or to boast of their contribution in successful projects, forget about breaking the glass ceiling.They happily stay at the backseat, contributing tirelessly to their workplace, and are even made to feel lesser than their male counterparts who spend longer hours at work (and can do so just because there is a woman 'behind' them).

Who backs the stay-at-home mother who works round the clock, making everything available to every member of the family at the right time, and in perfect measure? Who supports the maids, who wake up at unearthly hours to cook for their families, and then work all day, cleaning other's houses, doing other's laundry and taking care of other's kids? Who is there for the woman who works from home, managing her household chores as well as making some additional income to shoulder the responsibility of the family? Who cares for the women working outside homes as teachers, nurses, drivers, pilots, media executives, municipality workers, high-flying professionals and what not?

A man may be happy for a woman doing well, and may motivate and inspire her to achieve more, but contributing in her day-to-day chores and responsibilities so that she gets some relief? Naah, that is an extremely rare breed. I mean come on, a woman is as tired as a man after spending the entire day working (whether at an office or at home), but a man is entitled to his mother/wife/sister/daughter offering him a cup of coffee or tea when he returns home from work, while a woman is not! (Just imagine a husband/father/brother/son offering tea or coffee to a tired woman - sounds too good to be true, right?) And this is the simplest of examples! How is it that women hardly get the opportunity to pursue their hobbies and passions?

And what are we doing about it? Isn't it extremely important to raise boys to be sensitive to the needs of women around them? They need to be taught that all workload is meant to be shared, and women have to be freed up from unnecessary and unwarranted tasks so that they can also pay attention to their own growth and development- personally, professionally and otherwise too. They have to learn and understand that a woman is as entitled to pursue what she likes and be respected for it as a man is, and that there is nothing wrong with being 'behind' a successful woman.

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The last time….

Of late, Facebook has been bouncing memories back at us….’see your memories, you have memories to look back’ kind of stuff. And I have been going back, and reposting old posts, like many others. There are some quotes, some pictures, and some reminders of becoming friends with various people on fb.

Some pictures of my kids took me back in time, and then I went a little further, testing my memory. Even with the number of grey hair on my crown increasing rapidly every day, I do vividly remember how my now 10 year old son looked when I first held him in my arms, how he gurgled as an infant, when he turned, sat up, crawled, walked, called me ‘mamma’ for the first time. I do remember all the ‘firsts’.

And I also remember how he would make me repeat his favourite playtime tricks ‘one last time’ endlessly. Then, sure enough came a last time, but I don’t remember any of the ‘lasts’. When was the last time he asked me carry him because he was too tired walking with me? When was the last time I helped him take a bath and get dressed? When was the last time I fed him, one painfully slow morsel after another? When was the last time I threw a soft ball for him to hit with his plastic cricket bat?

Though it fills me with pride, like any mother, to see my son growing up well, and excelling at many things, the thought that he will soon be a grown up and will be independent, and would not rely on me, does sadden me. But then isn’t this exactly what we parents strive for- making our kids independent and self-sufficient?

As I see him – now almost as tall as me- gliding deftly on his waveboard, manoeuvring the narrowest spaces with ease, I wonder when was the last time I waved kisses at him as his school bus left, because it was very ‘embarrassing’ for him! Here he is, ‘hi-fiving’ with his buddies as they manage to swish past each other on their waveboards, without dashing. Though I feel a surge of emotion, I know I would rather not hug him in front of his ‘gang’!

So today morning, as school reopens after Christmas vacation, and he managed to wake up in time to get his bus to school, and he called me for a ‘good morning hug,’ I forgot that he was wasting precious seconds , lazing around, and rushed to hug him….for this could very well be the ‘last time’ he wanted it!

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It's a boys team!!

There she was… a tiny bundle, wailing and kicking with all her might. I looked at her and fell in love all over again. She was a wish fulfilled, a prayer answered, and as I kissed her, I thought there was nothing more precious and flawless than her- my newborn daughter. 'Isn't she the prettiest girl in the world?' I smiled widely as I asked the surgeon while she administered anaesthesia and put me to sleep. 

I have an older son- and he was six when my daughter was born. When he was 2 or 3 years old, I would look longingly at those pretty dresses and cute sandals and accessories displayed in all kids wear shops. I  love my son to bits, but secretly wished I had a daughter whom I could dress up in all those oh-so-cute things. I wished and wished and wished, until he turned almost 5 and wanted a playmate - a brother, to be precise. 

During the months that I was pregnant, he would often say- 'Mamma, I am sure I will have a brother, who will play cricket with me' and I always said 'I am sure you will have a sister, so we will have a girls team against you and daddy!'

And a girl it was- a sister for my son. And he was happy, nevertheless. He even carried her in his arms on the very first day, very confidently, gently and affectionately. For me, taking care of an infant was a tad easier this time around. And I was only too happy that I could now buy all the prettiest dresses in the world for my doll.

But that was not to be. I was able to doll her up only till she was nearly three years old, which is roughly when she began pointing out what she liked to eat/wear/play. She displayed interest in everything that is conventionally meant for boys. The possible reason could be that she has an older brother whom she wants to emulate and whose approval she values the most.

My tiny doll is now four, and has a mind of her own. She has no love for pretty dresses, cute sandals and accessories, or girlie toys. She wears superhero t shirts, plays with cars, and can easily hit and punch while playing football! When she speaks, she says 'Main aunga, khaunga, jaunga'.

I did try at first to change her mannerisms, correcting every sentence that she spoke, cajoling her to wear girlie clothes, admonishing her for kicking the ball around inside the house, and chiding her for not letting me tie her hair. But soon I realised that all this only made her more react more boisterously, determined to 'become a boy'.

I also realised that there was nothing wrong with her, it was actually me. Not only was I giving in to gender stereotypes, which I always abhorred, but was also making her more rebellious. So, I had to some rethinking on the way I addressed her love for all things deemed 'boyish'.

Instead of lamenting that she never wore a single hair band or hair clip I bought for her and admonishing her for unkempt hair (which were very uncomfortable for her), I got her a short haircut. Not only is it more convenient for her, but for me also, when I need to get her dressed for school or while going out! I also stopped buying dresses for her completely (sigh), and now I buy t shirts and leggings for her, clothes that are comfortable for her to manage when she has to go to the washroom all by herself at school. I also don't buy her dolls or cooking sets, but try and find more gender neutral games for her.

Several times, people have asked me 'Isn't that a boy?' when I call her name, a girl's name. Or there are other kids, including my son's friends, who say 'Is your "sister" a boy?' And I don't mind explaining it to them that she is a girl who loves to behave like a boy. Reactions from people are varied. Some find it amusing, some think it is wrong, while some display sympathy, and say 'Don't worry, she will grow out of it.' But I am least worried.

And I wouldn't worry even if she doesn't grow out of it. It is alright if she keeps wearing superhero t-shirts forever, or plays noisy games, with boys. To me,  she will always be 'the prettiest girl in the world', whether she dresses up like one or not.

Though my friends found it very difficult to find gifts for her on her birthday, and though I see her picking up only blue racquets and blue balls and blue shoes and avoiding pink completely, I know that she will always be my princess.

At the same time, I marvel at the determination she has displayed at such a tender age, holding her own against older boys, when she plays with her brother and his friends. And her brother, my son - he is a proud brother. Yes, he has a sister, but it's a boys team at home!

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The Cherry on Top

There was a time when I was young, brimming with energy, and living as if the world was waiting to be conquered by me. There were parents to take care of all my needs, siblings who were partners in all crimes, cousins who I loved to bits, and very few, but very dear friends who would take a bullet for me. All I had to do was bask in that love and attention. I really had everything-- the cake, the icing, and the cherry on top!

There were many things I dreamt of doing and believed I had all the time in the world for that.

With time, came marriage, followed by motherhood, and things were never the same again, to say it in plain words. Marriage brought its own set of responsibilities, complexities and I discovered new dimensions of life. It did not take much effort to settle into domesticity and take care of things like piles of laundry and soiled dishes and other household chores, albeit with the help of maids!

Then came my kids, one after the other, six years apart. Life became a mad mix of sleepless nights and tiring days. However, there is nothing more captivating than the toothless grin of a toddler, and I happily wiped my children's runny noses, kissed off their bruises, played silly games and sang rhymes with them. With time, I learnt to play Uno, swing racquets, swish beyblades and play everything else my kids played. I enjoyed it all a lot, but hardly ever realised how I lost a bit of myself with every passing day.

The kids soon grew up to be of school going age, one after the other. When my son began going to school for the entire day, I still had my little daughter with me. And then, as she turned 3, she also joined a preschool last year. I was very much looking forward to it, as every bone in my body was tired by then and I believed I needed some time to myself also. However, once she settled in her school routine, I found that it was very difficult to spend those few hours alone.

In my endeavour to make the most of that time, I first began spring cleaning my house. And I kept stumbling upon things that I had packed and stashed away, either so that the kids would not spoil them, or so that I would not get distracted from my children. I found myself saying 'How I loved reading, how I loved music, how I loved trying recipes, how I loved this and how I loved that'.....Loved?? LOVED? Why was it all in past tense? Didn't I love all that now also? Or had I forgotten what I liked and loved? It was evident that I had lost touch with my old self, and everything associated with it.

It was as if I woke up from deep slumber. I knew had to do something about it. And I don't have all the time in the world for that now. I am almost (yes, almost!) 40! And there is still so much that I have not done. And it also dawned upon me that I had actually forgotten some of those things on my to-do list, maybe because I was too absorbed with my kids, or maybe because I am growing old, after all! Though I didn't resent spending all my time and energy on my family, I did resent that I had pressed some 'pause' button on my life.

I knew that only I could help myself. I had to go out of my cocoon and look at the world around. And find a place for myself, not only as someone's wife or someone's mother, but as what I am (or was, or used to be.......whatever!). I knew that this is the only life I have, and I can't let it slip away from my hands like this.

Reading and writing helped me a lot. I read and read- newspapers, magazines, on the net, on my phone, everything I came across. And though whatever I wrote is nothing great, I at least had an outlet for my thoughts and views.


The place I live is a lively and eventful one, which I had not paid any attention to earlier. Interacting with people helped me find new avenues to channelise my time and energy. I was able to revive old friendships and old hobbies. I made new friends and learnt new skills. And all of it went on, one thing leading to another.

And now, almost a year has passed since then. And I have been able to tick quite a few boxes in this one year. The to-do list keeps growing, thanks to my new found hunger to explore. And I have wonderful sisters and friends who encourage me and even accompany me in my quest. I am not only a happier person, but also a more relaxed mother. And thanks to my age, I am more sure of myself, more confident and able to voice my opinion better.

And I find myself saying ' Yeah!! You still have it ALL- the cake, the icing, annnnnd the cherry on top!' 

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A Jhadoo for the Mind

PM Narendra Modi's Swachcha Bharat Abhiyaan is commendable and thankfully, has met with a good response from many parts of the society. There is a lot to be done to clean up our country. And hopefully, we citizens will be able to unite and work in the direction with sincerety.

Though it is a mammoth task, it is not unachievable. United efforts of one billion plus Indians can do it. What seems unachievable, though, is cleaning up of the mentality and mental makeup of the Indian male. The Indian male really needs to spruce up himself. Right from irritating habits like peeing in the open and spitting just anywhere, to shameful acts like leering at every passing girl, to horrendous crimes like raping a two-year old, the Indian male is doing it all, uanbashedly. And there seems to be no solution for this.

Every average Indian male is the most protective father, brother, cousin,boyfriend, husband and son for his daughter, sister, cousin, girlfriend, wife and mother. But the rising number of sexual abuse and sexaul crimes contradicts the image and perecption- after all these offenders are also fathers, brothers, husbands and sons.

Some mindless people point out that women should dress and behave in a certain manner so that men are not provocated to make sexual advances towards them. But how provocative can a little two year and five year old girl be? Are these men provocated or are they sick?

Is there a jhadoo that can clean up the mind of the Indian male? So that he minds his own business instead of policing women about what they should wear, how they should behave and what time they should go out?

Is there a jhadoo that can clean the minds of these psychopaths who scar the chidlhood of a toddler who doesn't even understand what is being done to her? Is there a jhadoo that can clean the fear off the minds of mothers like me who worry and pray for their children's safety everyday? I wish there was....

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Sarita Devi and Mary Kom - Hail Woman Power!

The recent developments at the Asian Games have been quite remarkable. On one hand, there is Mary Kom, who bagged the gold medal, her first in Asian Games and a first one for our country also, and on the other hand is Sarita Devi, who gave up her bronze medal in protest against the unfair judgement meted out to her.

Mary Kom has had a tumultuous journey from a rebellious teenager to a boxing champion, commanding respect for her achievements. Boxing is a manly sport  and for a woman to survive and triumph in this sport is truly amazing, especially in a country like India, where women have to deal with too many odds in order to get their due. In fact, had it not been for the glamorous Ms Priyanka Chopra, most of us would have been blissfully unaware of her even now!

And what makes her victory more joyous is that Kom's gold medal has come during the Navratri festival, when the Goddess Durga is worshipped all over India. This festival is marked by worshipping the female form as the supreme being. Durga is 'shakti', the power of a woman. And Mary Kom has only added to it- kudos to her!

However, it is Sarita Devi whom I want to applaud. She is another talented boxer from Manipur. She was handed an unfair judgement and even lost her appeal against the decision. During the award ceremony, she was crying bitterly as she looked at the bronze medal, but finally, and very courageously, she handed it to her opponent who got the silver medal. On being returned the medal by her opponent, she stunned officials by leaving the medal on the podium and walking away.

It is very unfortunate that Indian officials have not done anything worth mention to help the lady. Though Sarita Devi faces disciplinary charges for her conduct, what she did was very brave. She later said that if she would have not done so, she would have never been able to focus on her career anymore. She is also ready to face the consequences for what she did.The right judgement would have given her a chance to fight for Gold, and here she was, left with a bronze medal, due to a biased judgement.

Both Mary Kom and Sarita Devi are true winners. Both have boxed and punched their way to success. And medal or no medal, there is no difference between the two- both are women, both are mothers, both are boxers and both are winners- only, one of them had to return a medal to prove herself. 

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Ghost Uncle????

I lived in Kolkata for a few years after I passed 12th from my home town Haldia. I pursued my graduation and post graduation courses in Kolkata while staying as a Paying Guest with a bunch of other girls.

We were about 7 of us, and shared a huge flat with an old aunty. Her husband had passed away some years ago and she was happy to have some noise at home and took good care of us.There was a cook and two maids also. So we basically did not do much except attend college/ tuitions and then chat and giggle rest of the time. But we were in for some crazy experiences soon!

One of the rooms had a double bed and a single bed placed a little far. It so happened that once we ended up chatting up till quite late into the night and the girls from other room were also with us. So instead of them going back and making noise and waking up aunty, we thought we would join the beds and all of us would manage to sleep there only. And we did just that.

After an hour or so, we heard some thumping noise, as if someone was at first stuck and then was walking on the bed- the free space was blocked by the bed, after all. And we were all so scared, we did not sleep for the rest of the night! However, in the morning, we decided to forget about it.

But after that, small incidents kept occurring every now and then- like I felt someone breathing heavily while I was sitting quietly and studying one afternoon. Another time, one of the girls opened the wardrobe to take some clothes and fell back suddenly- she said she felt someone push her. Two of us also felt our arms removed from our faces when we covered our faces with our arms while sleeping.

We could not take this anymore. We asked Aunty's old maid about these scary incidents and she told us that Aunty loved Uncle a lot....maybe he came to visit her, but in some 'other form'. 'But why does he come to our room?' we asked. 'It was his room' she said. And that scared the lights out of us!

Some of us moved to other places soon after the incident while some girls continued staying there only. We met quite often and they told us about new happenings at that place very often. However, I am glad I didn't stay there for long!

This is my experience for Indispire topic - Have you seen a ghost? I am sure you also have an experience to share!

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To shout, or not to shout!

A very intelligent neighbor of mine once asked me ‘Do you know the secret behind Lata Mangeshkar’s melodious voice even at this age?’ I was still thinking of some answer which that intelligent lady would approve of, and she had me splitting with laughter with her answer- ‘she has no kids!”

Great joke, but how true it is! Women, after becoming mothers, just transform so much! There are days in every woman’s life when she is the perfect, demure lover/wife whose voice drips honey as she speaks! And a few years later, when you see the same woman with a kid or two in tow, she is a totally different woman! Not just physically, but in every possible way! The angel-faced kids moms love so much have the ability to transform the most soft-spoken woman into a hollering mad woman in no time!

At least with me and a lot of women I know, this is really true! Hollering and running after the tots, I look and sound very different than what I was a few years ago! My kids keep me on my toes all the time, and I must thank them for that- they have helped me stay slim and fit! (Even if it sounds like I am boasting that I am slim, it is true!) And yes, I do shout sometimes, though I hate it and hate myself when I do that.

I am like any other mom. And whenever I ask my kids to do something, I always do it with a smile and a sweet tone at first. The second time, more sweetly, with a please. The third time, sweetly again. Fourth time, a little sternly. Then a pause, just to give them some time to do what they have been asked to do. Then the fifth time a little more sternly. And the sixth time and seventh, more sternly. And finally, I have to shout to be heard by my kids! Sometimes I feel as if they listen to me only when I shout!

And there are times when shouting just doesn’t help. Like when I want my three year old daughter to get dressed fast as she might miss her school van, and I raise my voice a bit, but you know what happens? She starts bawling, and spreads herself on the floor. Result? She misses the van and I have to either drop her at her school myself or let her be at home.

Kids.....it is as if they know just the right buttons to press to my patience! And they can match me, shout for shout, look for look and even stomp when I try to make them understand exactly why they should do what they are being asked to do.And most of the times, I do give in, even after a good round of shouting. What's more, I feel guilty about shouting at them. And the battles continue...

Though I have an unwritten rule that I never hit my kids (a thwack once in six months or so doesn’t count as hitting!), I am yet to stop shouting at them. But this joke about the not-so-sweet voice of moms has made me think about it. I guess I need to stop shouting at them, too. Not just to save my voice, but also for them.

After all, I don’t like being shouted at. And I didn’t like it when I was young and any of my parents shouted at me. Why would my kids like it? I cannot behave like I own them, they are also individuals like me. I have to understand that they are just children, and need a lot of time and space to grow up and be responsible. Inculcating discipline in children from a young age is fine, but that doesn’t require any shouting….or does it? I am still wondering…..

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The Poor Thing

After packing her children off to school with hasty goodbyes and rushed hugs and kisses, Asha came back from the school-bus pick-up point and realised that her maid had not turned up today also. Grinding her teeth and muttering irrelevant things to vent her ire, she started scouring the dishes. She was almost done with the dishes when Saraswati, the maid, stepped into the kitchen, noiselessly, startling Asha.

"Where have you been for the past two days?" Asha questioned Saraswati with visible irritation. Saraswati did not say a word, just plopped on the floor and began crying inconsolably. Asha's anger changed to concern in no time and she sat down beside the weeping woman. "What happened Saraswati? Why are you crying? Is your daughter alright?"

She knew that Saraswati lived on her own and had a little daughter to take care of.Her husband had left her for another woman two years ago, but Saraswati had put up a brave face. And, taking her husband's atrocity in stride, had increased her work hours to be able to take care of her daughter by herself. Recently, she had even started sending her to a small school nearby.

Asha always thought "Poor thing, she earns, runs her house, sends the child to school, puts up with her husband's beatings and now that rascal has left her for another woman." Though she admired Sarsawati's courage about taking the responsibility of her child single-handedly, she always thought of her as 'poor thing', who could not go back to her family because she had left her family to elope with this man some years back.

Meanwhile Saraswati had regained her composure and was narrating how her husband had come and taken the child away. She said "I don't want my daughter to live with her father, didi. He will not send her to school or take care of her in any manner. My daughter will grow up to become a maid like me only." And Asha could not help but say the same thing in her mind- poor thing.....

The same evening, when she was telling her daughter how beautiful her illegible scribblings were, her husband called up to say that he would be late that evening also, as something important had come up at office. She heard him and said 'ok'. But did she hear a muffled female laughter in the background? "It could be one of his colleagues", she reasoned with herself.

However, she could not stop herself from recalling things that she had been noticing in the past few days- faint smells of women's perfume on her husband's clothes, inflated credit card bills and frequent extra work at office. Alarmed, she called him up and asked him, "Ashok, are you really at office? What is going on?" And her husband replied "What do you mean Asha? Come here and see for yourself." Without saying another word, she hung up the phone but could not bring herself to believe him. She tried to brush it off, but the feeling of betrayal and shock kept coming back. Angry, hurt and disappointed, she stayed up till he returned home.

He came at 1 am and was visibly happy - she heard him humming as he was near the door. Though he was shocked to see her awake and waiting for him, he masked it soon and asked her "What's with you? Why are you up at this time? And look at your face dear...what's the matter?" And she could not help but shout "What's the matter? Where did this smell on your clothes come from? What is keeping you in the office for so long so often?"

She was not prepared for what she heard. Though she had been seething with anger, she also had just a little bit of hope that her assumptions could be wrong and everything was fine. But here he was, her husband, telling her that he was, indeed, in love with another woman, a colleague at office. And she dare not open her mouth about it, or else he would not think twice before separating from her.And she could also take the kids with her if she wanted.

She spent the night in a daze.....after sending the kids to school, she called up her brother and told him everything. And she was not prepared for what she heard this time, too. Her brother was telling her to forget about it and go on as if nothing ever happened. She had to think about her kids, after all. They went to expensive schools and lived a decent life. Would she be able to support it on her own? He, her own brother, was pained at her predicament but could not do much about it as he had his own problems in life. And she, who had never worked in her life in spite of being well-educated, could not probably now find a means to take care of her children by herself. So doing what her husband wanted was the wisest thing to do, he advised her.

She hung up the phone, dejected- she knew she could not go back to her family, though she had married a man of their choice and followed all the unwritten rules of being a good daughter, sister, wife and mother. She was still lost in thought as Saraswati came in through the door. Seeing her, Asha could not help but smile sadly and say to herself....."who is the poor thing?"

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Nostalgia and hope

Let me first tell you that I am no fan of daily soaps on the television. But while helping my little daughter with her lunch, which takes really long, I feel the need to watch something and keep myself occupied to that I don't get impatient with my tiny little girl.

And watching Mahabharata at that time (1.30 to 2 in the afternoon) was really good. I remember having seen another version of Mahabharata on TV many years back, but I liked this one because it somehow seems more relevant in the present times, as there was a lot of stress on women-related issues, or maybe I just understood it better, thanks to my age!

However, Mahabharata came to an end and now there is another daily soap in the same time slot, called "Nisha aur Uske Cousins". It tells the story of a Jain family in Jaipur, and how these modern, boisterous bunch of seven cousins carry out their mischiefs and escapades in a joint family of three generations.

The show quite reminds me of my childhood. I have a huge group of cousins and have enjoyed some of the best times of my life with them. My father, the oldest son in his family,  had eight younger brother and sisters  and he made it a point that he stayed attached to his roots and his family. That is what brought us close to our cousins and extended family members.

Though I was not essentially in a joint family, we did experience the joint family life to a large extent. That is because we travelled to our native town in U.P. every year in summer holidays and our maternal house in Madhya Pradesh every Durga Puja vacation, even if it meant travelling in second class coaches of Indian Railways, which had dirty toilets and fans which did not function.

It took a good four to five hours to reach Howrah from our town Haldia via road or local trains. We even covered some distance on 'launches', motor-driven passenger boats, which we could get on only after walking on dangerously thin planks of wood, which had just enough space to keep one foot at a time!

From Howrah, we would get into trains and reach our destination after spending more than a day and night in the train.How we enjoyed those journeys- buying all tidbits from vendors who passed by, drinking tea from kulhars, having that 'pepsi' once in a while! And we read books and played ludo or just slept, climbing to the upper berths in the train.

We were always given a huge welcome- some of the family members would invariably be at the station and when we reached home in rickshaws, we received the warmest of hugs, though we would be stinking like hell!

During vacations, our huge gang enjoyed playing together, eating together, we quarrelled and we made up, we hit each other and cried, we hugged each other and cried, we laughed and we joked, we cycled and we ran- it was one huge party. When the vacations would get over, we would return to Haldia with a heavy heart. During the rest of the year, we wrote letters and sent cards to our cousins, keeping them posted about our lives.

Those visits became less frequent as we grew up and then most of us got married. (There are many to go, yet! Remember, I told you what a huge family it is!) Now we get to meet only during family functions like weddings. Whenever I tell my son about my cousins, he is amazed at the number of mamas and masis he has, and always tells me....'you are so lucky ma!'

Amidst all this nostalgia, I am forced to think that ok, I don't get to meet my cousins that often because we are all busy with our lives....but what about my children? Why don't they get to meet their cousins? In fact, my son knows more about his friends than his cousins.

Isn't it my responsibility to stay attached to my roots and ensure that my children also enjoy that camaraderie and warmth that I enjoyed as a child? Now when we can afford to travel in a much better way than those filthy trains, what is it that keeps us away from our family? Why have I got so lost in my daily grind?

And I am unable to find any believable answer. Though I did not have any expensive gadgets as a child, I had a rich life, enriched with love, care and warmth of my huge family. But in my quest of giving my children a life that is 'better than mine' am I really able to do that? Is their life really better than mine?

Whatever the answer to that may be, I know what I need to do. And I hope I shall be able to do it soon. I hope I shall be able to take my kids to their grandparents' house frequently so that when they grow up, they will have funny incidents of their own to narrate to their kids!

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