My Tattoos

My tattoos are an extension of my soul. I get one every year around October partly because there's always a long weekend in October and partly because it's the beginning of Durga Puja, my late husband's favourite Bengali festival.

So the tattoos are in remembrance of a life I have shed away and an expression of my deepest desires. Not everyone understands it and I don't expect anyone to. Call it madness, call it impulsiveness or simply call it the desire to live knowing that there may not be a tomorrow again.

I have the sweetest tatoo artist, Rinchen who I visit annually at Iruzemi studio. He's quick to respond with "yes" to all my questions. "Have I lost weight this year?", "Can I get a giant Tinkerball above my ankle?", "How about a huge anchor?" 

He asks me a few questions back too, "How are you feeling? Does it hurt?" And I respond cockily, "Not as much as childbirth. Please continue inking."

It does hurt, and I sleep hard on the days I get a tattoo. That's a lot of trauma for the skin, which the brain tries to mellow down. Each tatoo takes 4-5 hours to complete.

I'm ready with my design for this year, and I can't wait for October. I highly recommend tattoos for anyone who wants to express themselves through skin, anyone who is undergoing a personality or life shift. It truly is therauptic and it's a work of art that you can be proud of, for the rest of your life.

So go get inked today!

Sugar Mummies and Daddies

A close friend and colleague of mine, had a serious debate with me about marrying a Sheikh and being his third or fourth wife. "At least I can sit inside my private jet and cry in peace", was her reasoning. Fair enough!

I countered that with, "But Shina, what about our brains? Don't we need intellectual stimulation? And do you think these dudes will look after our children and keep our houses neat and clean? Absolutely not! Everything will fall flat on our heads, at the end of the day."

To which she said, "But Gayatri, we can be on a yacht in the middle of the ocean flaunting our bikini bods." To which I countered, "That means we have to loose another 10 kilos. Not at all happening macha!"

On a serious note through, relationships no longer have the sanctity it once did when we were 20 year olds. Long term relationships, a serious commitment and ultimately marriage makes people want to run.

The last 3.5 years have been the loneliest of my life and also the busiest. I may be single and leading a chaotic life, but there is peace that comes with not choosing to be with the wrong partner.

A lonely marriage and a toxic relationship is much worse than being single. So I count my blessings everyday despite the lack of a hot and sexy guitarist husband (God bless his soul) that I didn't "settle down quickly" with just anyone.

As a young widow with a child, I'm showered with all sorts of advice everyday, all coming from places of love and concern of course. But I'm not in any rush to meet Mr Perfect #2, let him take his own sweet time to come. 

Until then, baby menace and I have many scores to settle with each other. Our hands are full, so are our hearts and lives. We're not alone, despite the absense of aforementioned hot and sexy late husband. 

Marrying that Sheikh maybe a good idea though, if he is willing to share household chores with me and deal with my son's mood swings. Otherwise, I'm not interested in being anyone's option number 2, 3 or 4. 

World War 3

The most heated arguments, 

And genuine compliments,

I receive in a day,

From my little minion, in his unique way,

The fights are earth shattering,

And the love is equally staggering,

How a 6 year old can be this opionated,

His ideas far from dated,

Is beyond me,

He fills me with equal parts of gloom and glee,

Our house is a nuclear bomb,

Always ticking and ready to explode, our war of words, will make you reach out for Tiger Balm,

It's pointless and silly,

We definitely sound like two hill-billies,

Tommorow is another day,

And I'm sure he'll yet again, have his way. 

Pediatricians

There are many perks to being a little person. Attention, time and toys being some of them. I also envy little people because they have the best doctors in the world - pediatricians. These men and women have a fantastic sense of humour. They're kind, gentle, funny and occasionally give away chocolates.

What a blessed life indeed! I wish I was a child all over again. I don't remember pediatricians being this sweet when I was growing up. An injection straight on the bum or an enema being popped up where the sun don't shine, is what I remember from all my hospital visits as a child.

I had severe bronchial asthama as a 3 year old and vaguely remember being hospitalised. The doctor was someone everyone feared. My chattering with all my co-patients would come to an abrupt halt, the minute the doctor entered the ward.

Perhaps children are still scared of doctors and hospitals. I know my little villain is, because he vomits the minute he sees a hospital, forget entering one. But then there are times, when he has his moments under the sun and wrangles a giant slab of Cadbury's Dairy Milk from his sweet doctor, simply because he flashed his milk teeth and his one dimple.  That one knows he's pretty and makes full advantage of his charm. Sly little bugger! 

Hospitals are places that evoke feelings of calm and panic. It all depends on your doctor and your attitude on beating whatever mild or deadly disease you currently harbour. 

I can't wait for our next vaccination shot and the possibility of receiving a giant slab of chocolate.  

Stress Free Weekends

You know those Sunday mornings when you wake up with a cloudy head and a feeling that you've eaten an entire hippopotamus in one go and you're still digesting it? Or that Monday morning heart attack in the middle of your chest, caused by gas, because you overate a beautiful Sunday lunch? Now, that's what I call a relaxed weekend.

The feeling of doing absolutely nothing, but eating, drinking and sleeping. What bliss! I miss my weekend already. The Monday through Friday drill sucks the very soul out of my body and what's left of me is this machine who robotically finishes one task after the other. There's simply no time to think, breathe, eat or sleep. Work and baby duties consume me, and this would be an understatement.

There are moments I ask my mother, "Do you think I should retire by 50?" And we both chuckle, because I'm a workaholic and life without work would be miserable. My brain would become a cobwebbed dungeon without this crazy routine.

So, sugary alcoholic drinks in fancy glasses and lipsmacking food aesthetically placed on a table, is what I look forward to. It gives meaning to my life. It makes the entire week's brain frying suddenly worth it. 

Let's not forget shopping, that rabid impulsive disease where most women tend to hoard pretty little dresses and tops and jewellery and make-up. Sigh! What a beautiful life indeed.

As we kickstart yet another brain frying week, let's not forget that simple life pleasures aka food, alcohol and clothes are just 5 days away. So we've got this. We will conquer this week, even if it tries to kill us. 

In the words of those funny gundas in the newly released Malayalam movie "Bad Boyz", "Jai Bhavani!". 

Dynamic Duo

A moment of appreciation for my mother today,

Who walked with me from shop to shop, without much of a sway,

An expensive bright red dress I had burnt,

The brunt of it which she unfortunately earned,

I suddenly tasked her to help me fix it,

And she took up the job, her determined face, unwilling to quit,

Multiple tailors and shop-owners we met,

Two of them directed us to another shop without a fret,

They admitted that the task at job was grave, near impossible even,

Perhaps this other shop they were suggesting, would make our worries break even,

And lo and behold, we found a beautiful patch work,

Upon reaching home, mum quickly put dad to work,

Both were busy ironing the patch work onto my bright red dress,

From raising a child, to helping me fix a dress my life in general has no stress,

All thanks to my dynamic duo, mom and dad,

With them around, life can never be too bad.

Crazy Busy Days

A crazy busy day has been had,

An escalation which we're yet to tide

Never have I felt my brain so fried,

By noon all my intelligence felt dried,

So I slept, so hard that I drooled all over my pillow,

I woke up feeling mellow,

Just in time for my little menace,

To get back from school, ready to push all my buttons,

I told him about my day,

I could see his little heart sway,

He takes my work problems seriously,

For about a second, and then continues to destroy my sanity evenly,

Digging deeper into my insecurities,

Reassuring me that we'd be homeless soon, our life soon fading into obscurity,

I shoo him out of the bathroom and stuff food down his throat,

Back to my laptop, to stay afloat,

What a mad day has been had,

Tommorow will probably be equally bad,

Sugar free icecreams and coffee will be had,

By the arrival of the weekend, we will all feel glad.

Sleep When The Baby Sleeps

The most absurd piece of advice given to new mothers is, "Sleep when the baby sleeps." How is this even possible? How can an infant's sleep schedule be matched with a grown adult woman's?

But now, since I've graduated to being a 6 year old mum, I have new advice to share. "Power nap when your school going menace is not around." And trust me, this nap does a world of wonder for your mood.

 

The insistent squabbling with your child, dips. I'm not saying the silly fights end, but they definitely reduce. You can finally attempt to being the adult in charge, as opposed to being the tired human in charge of the house, office work and tiny human duties. 

My weekdays are an absolute blur, one activity merges into another and when I hit the sack by 8.30pm, I sleep hard. There's no waking me up even if a Tsunami hits me on the face, drags me down to the ocean floor and drowns me. 

My son is equally irritable and on edge. He's tired, he's hungry and he hates school - the list is just endless. 

This phase of our lives is perfectly described by Dulqer Salmaan in Bangalore Days, "Pressure cooker alle njan... kurachu neram vechirikkanam, sheriyaavum!" which translates to "I'm not a pressure cooker... Give me some time, and everything will be fine! 

For now we're stuck in this rat race, little menace and I. So breathing in and breathing out is all that we can do, as we helplessly witness our lives speed by us in a lightening flash, dare I say, faster than Flash's supersonic run.