How I Stole My Late Husband’s Best Friend

I met Madhatter aka Ritesh Nagpal for dinner last night at Southern Spices. He let me order whatever I wanted for the table and enjoyed it. Green flag number one. A man who lets you decide and doesn't complain. 

Funnily, Madhatter was never my friend. He was my late husband's school classmate from DPS RK Puram, the most notorious school in all of India when I was growing up. I suppose you could say these men were bad boys of their time, which is why I married my late husband after all. He was a good boy, pretending to be a bad boy. I simply loved the appeal and couldn't resist. 

Anyway, I just had to steal Madhatter from my husband and convert him into my friend. But Ritesh being Ritesh, never took a stand and chose to be a cat on the fence, because he is in reality a cat lover and also a very diplomatic well-raised mostly politically correct (except with me, because he calls me fatso every opportunity he gets) gentleman. 

I've known Ritesh for as long as I've known my late husband - a total of 18 years to be exact. We met on the same day, in the same house, in the same city. 

I've seen Ritesh get married, becoming a father, raise a family and slowly and steadily growing into a very competent marketing leader. 

When my family broke, Ritesh and his family never left my side. The weekly calls, the monthly calls, the birthday presents and the once a year meet-ups never came to a fullstop.

He's a rock solid friend to have because he tells you things as they are, very bluntly and to your face. From financial advice to very hesitant love-life advice, this man is a pandora's box of exploding knowledge.

There are two kinds of 40 year olds in this world - the sane and the insane. Ritesh acknowledges both sides in me and tries his best to give me the most objective advice, until he gets really scandalised and says, "I don't want to know Gayatri. Please stop talking. Don't take advantage of my silence." 

Ritesh, I'm so happy to have you as a friend and confidant. Cheers to another two more decades and beyond of friendship together. 

Happy 49 Years of Marriage

For every child, his or her parents are always considered to be the two most special people on earth. Mine are extra special though because at the ages of 70 and 75 they've never made me feel the brunt of being a single mother.

They quietly took on much more than parental duties and decided to raise my little devil of a child while I decided to build my career, heal my grief and throw myself into my 10,000 plus hobbies.

When people ask how I was able to quickly get back on my feet with a 2 year old boy in tow, I look no further than my parents.

They told me to wipe my tears and keep moving forward. They've always just let me be and allowed me to make decisions without suffocating me, whether it was choosing my life partner or settling down into a particular field of work.

It's their 49th wedding anniversary today and I sincerely hope my son doesn't lock either of them up in the bathroom or steal ten-rupee notes from their wallets. 

To my parents, who never once made me feel like a defeated widow and who tolerate their little villain of a grandson, happy 49th wedding anniversary amma and daddy. 

Riaan and I are grateful to have you. May you both live for 100 years. 

The Strange Workings Of A Woman's Brain

Women can be each other's best friends or worst enemies and the reasons range from hilarious to petty and more petty. There is an undercurrent of stress at all times. And 95% of the time it's just not needed.

I wonder how creatures who are such nurturers and bringers of life, can also hold massive grudges for decades. Best friend from college didn't invite you to her wedding? Friendship over. Picked up a bigger fridge magnet than your mother-in-law during a family vacation? Marital discord. Gave your immediate boss a shelling because she was getting on your case and didn't really understand the business because she had just joined? Appraisal cut and no bonus for that year.

This list is endless. And it's heartbreaking, emotionally draining and just a waste of time. Imagine if all that hatred women have for one another could be put into something more productive? 

Why do we waste our brain cells squabbling, gossiping and comparing? Each woman is on her journey and no one is doing anything wrong - whether it is building her career, raising her child or caring for aging parents. Each one is on her unique mission and does things her way, because no one understands her child, her parents and her boss at work, like she does. So why compare? Why take notes? 

Let's strive to be uniquely different as we are. Let's not pick petty fights, let's definitely not compare for our own sakes and especially not our impressionable little children and let's spread happiness.

A woman's happiness is critical for society and her family to flourish. She can either be the giver of life and the nurturer that she's meant to be or she can destroy and spread hatred. The choice is purely hers.

Let's spread smiles ladies. Each time a negative thought pops into my head, I stuff my face with a bowl of moong dal halwa or a decadent Biscoff cheesecake. Choose your poision - whether it be a food item or a drink and throw that negativity away.

We're all so talented in our own ways, let's do something useful with those skills and contribute to our communities at large. 

I choose to be the bringer of peace, decadent desserts and the occasional oversweet cocktail. Who are you choosing to be today? 

My First Friends

I saw an instagram reel this morning about how the oldest relationship you will have is with your siblings. My relationship with my siblings has been hot and cold over the years. 8 years and 4 years apart in age, I couldn't exactly bond with them as a child.

There were "older children" games and "girly gossip sessions", that I wasn't privy to. An entire room of children would empty out after dropping their toys, the minute I entered. Perhaps I harassed them. I'm told I was a biter and one cousin still recalls the stories with a traumatised look on her face.

I don't recall any of it though. I wonder how I could have ever bitten anyone. I'm so peace loving, especially when I'm well fed and definitely over the weekends.

Our house had a large compound filled with dogs and my cousin's occassional stray-finds consisting of one-eyed ducks, stray baby puppies, multiple fish tanks and a squirrel from Chennai. The animals got more love and attention than me.

I recall one dog walking up to my brother Arjun's room searching for him, and my sister Sowmia, munching on jackfruit chips straight out of a glass bottle with one hand and her other hand stuffed inside an obese little Dachshund's mouth. 

Both my brothers - Swaroop and Arjun would spend their holidays obsessively cleaning the fish tank. It was a whole affair. One boy would bring the green garden hose from one end of the house's compound, while the other boy would quickly throw the hose in, after removing the excess water out. Lo and behold, the empty garden hose would now be transformed into a little pumping device, that would empty out all the tank's smelly, fishy water.

Sometimes the dogs would die and I'd watch the three of them, making large graveyards around the compound to bury their little bodies inside and stand around the freshly made grave sobbing hysterically. I could feel their hearts breaking and felt sorry seeing them that way, as I empathetically munched on golden fried medu vadas or mutta puffs.

On occassion, the three of them would regale me with stories of how I looked like or behaved when I was a baby. My sister Sowmia still calls me "her little doll" and my brother Arjun apparently called me "nice baby" and asked for his toy car upon meeting me for the first time.

Out of the three, I remember my brother Swaroop pampering me the most, but as an 8 year old, perhaps he needed his space too, so he'd promise to come back and play with me but would remain in his room for hours drawing and painting. The maids would ask, "Who are you waiting for Gayu?" and I'd reply in all earnesty, "Swaroop chettan."

These three definitely shaped my childhood along with mutta puffs and kothu porotta. They push me to do better as a person. The advice is unending on all fronts - personally and professionally.

Most times, I'm grateful for the advice because I actively seek them out for it. On other occassions, I quietly stuff earbuds into both my ears and smile at them with a big nod, so they think I'm listening.

My love for my siblings is greater than 10 plates of kappa with meen curry and stronger than a kattan. I'm proud of the adults they've become today and the beautiful, warm families they've all built for themselves individually. 

Not Your Average Business Networking Event

I attended an all woman's business networking event yesterday which positioned itself as "not a networking event." At the end of those three hours, that's exactly what I felt. My stomach was mildly satiated with some tasty sundal, cookies and juice, but my brain was racing with ideas.

We hardly spoke about work. Instead, we spoke about all the challenges women have faced over centuries at home, in offices and practically everywhere she has tried to achieve something.

The room was filled with entrepreneurs, freelancers, working professionals and mothers. The energy in the room was indescribable. For those three hours, we became allies and felt deeply connected to one another.

The conversations we had were both heartbreaking and enlightening. Women really do face the brunt of the world everywhere and no one can deny this fact.

Societies have been built brick by brick with the quiet hardwork of women. Sometimes she gets acknowledged for it. On most occasions, she does not.

But that doesn't stop her from working hard. She always puts everyone else above her and keeps working hard for their betterment. 

In those three hours, I couldn't be more proud to be a woman. There's an inbuilt strength that we're born with, that helps us keep moving forward every single day.

To many more "non-networking events" and many more plates of tasty sundal. Thank you Gehena and Vaishnavi for putting together The Shakthi Circle and for giving working women a voice and a genuine platform to just vent, exchange thoughts and just be her true self. 

Why Mothers Excel At Work

I finally caught Devil Wears Prada 2 in theatres last night and it felt like I was coming home to old friends. I was in my second year of undergraduation when I saw the first movie with my classmates. 

From then to now, the underlying emotion of the movie, of women wanting to make a difference in the world remains the same. As a 19 year old I wanted to make it big in the corporate world just like Andy Sachs and strike out on my own if I couldn't fit into the Miranda Priestly mould.

And as a grown adult, as I watch these working mothers on screen, still striving for excellence and regretting not spending enough time with their children, that struck a chord with me too.

There's a reason why working mothers excel at work. It's because we know the cost of staying away from shaping an impressionable life and not being able to really get involved in their routine.

So that cost better come at a good price. We better justify that time away from the little souls we've brought into this world. That's the reason why most working mothers just put their heads down and work to excel. There's a hunger in her belly that never gets satiated unless she's perfected her craft and is at the top of her game.

She's not being competitive or aggressive, she's simply fiercely safeguarding her future along with her children's futures who would ultimately reap from the benefits of her hardwork.

She can never have it all and the guilt of trying to make both worlds work in harmony with one another always makes her fall flat on her feet. On the day of a PTA, there will definitely be a meeting with the new V.P who has taken over the team. 

On the day a teacher has asked you to come see her post school hours, is also the day your team and you are working hard to overcome a major org-wide escalation. 

On all those days, I come back home sobbing and all the chocolate cookies in the world don't heal my soul. 

The struggle for work life balance is real and the struggle to perform both parental and professional duties have made me lose so much of my hair, that it doesn't look nice even if I colour it cherry purple.

So Miranda Priestly's cold, "That's all" is perfectly justified because she really doesn't have the time to listen to co-workers and assistants rant endlessly about their problems. Just get your shit together and make it work - both at home and in the office.

To the mothers who simply cannot have it all - I see you, I feel you and I am you. Tommorow is another day. We've got this ladies!

One and Done

For the longest time, I fantasized about having an army of children - an entire cricket team in fact. And my life would be spent in the kitchen cooking multiple meals for them morning, noon and night along with snacks between meals. That fantasy got stronger right after childbirth and my late husband looked petrified each time I mentioned this desire of mine.

"Please find another husband.", "One is enough." and he'd quickly run out of the room. Five years later, that secret desire of mine still burns strong. Each time I take my son for his shot or a fever-induced medical checkup, I drool at the newborns in the hospital and can actually feel my ovaries crying. 

Then I ask my one and only, "Riaan, do you want another brother or sister?", he turns around with a defiant look on his little face and replies, "I already have many brothers and sisters who visit me twice a year. Thank you very much." 

That officially shuts down my salivating and I make peace with my little devil, who has irrevocably changed my life for the better. I hug him a little harder as I wipe the wet boogey off his nose and smell the top of his sweaty little head.

I suppose my mission in this lifetime is to make a gentleman out of just one little monkey. Maybe I'll have my army of animals in the next.

Sigh! 

The Reluctant Pant Wearer

A dear friend of mine and my late husband's whispered in my ears a few days after he passed away, "You've always worn the pants in this relationship, so just continue doing that now. You'll be fine." I know he meant it with pure intentions because as a couple we were very fond of him and he cared deeply about us too.

In that moment, I didn't have a response, I just felt empty and sad that I was truly all alone in the world. Looking back at that moment minus the widow-lenses, it's harrowing to see societal expectations out of a man and a woman post marriage. She has to be the bread winner, the family glue and the caretaker of the house and all it's residents. The man on the other hand, just has to be the bread winner and crack a few jokes now and then.

How is this fair? How is a woman expected to juggle work, children, aging parents and household chores without losing her cool? If this is what makes a woman, "wear the pants in the relationship", that's a very skewed and unfair perspective of women.

Does helping with the baby and household chores make a man, less of a man. Didn't both individuals decide to build that life together? Then why does the responsibility only fall on one person's shoulders? 

So no, I never wanted to wear the pants in that relationship and I don't want to wear it going forward either. I'm officially throwing away those pants, because I've always been a skirt and dress girl.

Boo to patriarchy and cheers to equality!