My Pre-Birth Story

They say it takes a village, to raise a child. My village came in place by my seventh month of pregnancy. It started with my ever helpful in-laws, relocating us to a new house, closer to the hospital. A week after they left, I experienced a complication. I tried hailing an Uber, but to no avail. My husband was out of town, thanks to his travelling job. My cook had just left for the day. And I didn't know my neighbours too well, as I had just shifted to our new apartment.

My pregnancy brain scrambled around a bit and I suddenly remembered my husband's friend Akshay, who lived a kilometre away from our house. I quickly dialed his number and panted into the phone, "Something's wrong with this baby". He replied with a "Wait right there. I'm coming in two minutes". I wobbled into the lift and walked outside the lobby to find Akshay running out of his car. He grabbed my hand and helped me get inside the passenger seat of his car. I don't remember the conversation we had, for the five minute car journey towards the hospital. He looked scared, yet nodded along vigorously to my incomprehensible babble. 

I was rushed to the emergency room of the hospital. As I lay down in a room full of strangers, all I could think about was having Theobroma's cheesy chicken quiche. I quickly called Akshay from the waiting room. His face still looked panic-stricken, but he covered his anxiety well with a goofy grin. He said, "Don't worry, I'm here if you need me". I replied with, "Can we go to Theobroma, after all this is over?". He looked dumbstruck, but replied with "Sure. Let's speak to your doctor first". 

Turned out I couldn't eat that quiche afterall, because I was hospitalized for the next four days. My husband took the first flight out to Bombay and reached the city late in the night. During the day, I had my old friend Vidhi and Akshay taking turns to baby-sit me in the hospital.

Everyone has an elaborate birth story to share with you.  What to take to the hospital on the delivery day, what to expect during the delivery, whether to take the epidural or not and so on and so forth. But this is my pre-birth story. There was so much drama around my pregnancy, Ekta Kapoor would be put to shame. 

Akshay is my family, so is Vidhi. I wouldn't have got through that horrific day, without both of them. Thank you for being Riaan's Godmother and father. You saved his life and mine. I know you don't expect anything from me. But, I'll never forget your kindness and I promise I'll always be there for you.  

Ammumma

Can't believe I live in a world without you,
It's a reality I wish wasn't true,

Thank you for holding on for us kids, for so long,
You were so strong,

Your hugs were like warm fluffy clouds,
That took away all our mind's shrouds,

You were my home,
I always found my way back to you, wherever I may roam,

I'll miss your oil massages,
And subtle barrages,

You were the prettiest woman in the world,
For whom we all twirled,

You were a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother,
Most importantly, you were the best grandmother,

A part of me has died along with you,
I was not ready to bid adieu,

There is a constant throbbing pain in my chest,
That refuses to take rest.

Goodbye My Sweet Ammumma

I was four years old, when I was diagnosed with acute bronchial asthma. Frequent trips to the hospital with needles shoved up all over my body, soon became a part of my life. Sleeping on the hospital bed especially at night was painful because my arm had to be raised with tubes running down them. Daytime was better. I ran around the hospital beds and made friends with the nurses. But everytime the strict doctor uncle came on rounds, I had to go back to bed. This was my life. A week at La Martiniere School for Girls, Calcutta and one week in the hospital. I hated school more than the hospital though.

The doctor advised my parents to send me away to a less polluted city. The Calcutta air didn't want to become friends with my lungs. So I was booted off to Trivandrum, to stay with my grandparents. It was a tough decision for my parents, but one they had to make, as my father was in the Army and transferred to a new city once every two years. My brother went to eight schools in seven cities. Needless to say, he was the more extroverted one growing up. 

My initial few months in Trivandrum  were not rosy. I deeply missed my parents. Most nights I would wake up crying and request my grandmother to turn on a cassette with my favourite nursery rhymes. The minute the first rhyme came on the stereo, I would get more hysterical. My grandparents pampered me endlessly, so that I would miss my parents a little less. Slowly and steadily it worked. My evenings were filled with one new toy a day purchased dutifully by my grandfather's sister. And my grandparents stuffed me silly with icecreams, egg puffs, medu vadas, chicken cutlets and a wide variety of fish.

My grandfather dropped me to school every morning. My fear of schools still hadn't left me. I would cry until i reached my classroom door, holding onto my grandfather's pinkie in one hand and his handkerchief in the other. After i snorted out all my nose bogey into his hankie, I would bid him farewell. My favourite part of the day was when school ended, so that I could bully my grandparents. My grandfather would wait to eat the remnants of my lunchbox and my grandmother would stuff me with mountains of food. 

I called myself the princess of Hemagiri (the name of the house my grandparents lived in) with a self made stainless steel crown. Ammumma was the stricter one, she made sure I did my homework before running off to play. She put me to sleep at night, she got me ready for school. She was my mother for six years, until one day my father got posted to Chennai and my parents decided to take me back with them. I once again felt the earth slipping under my feet. I didn't want to leave my grandparents.

I remember clinging on to my grandmother for dear life, as my parents packed my bags and waited in the car for me. She hugged me back and whispered, "I'll always be with you mole. All children must live with their parents."

From sleeping between my grandparents till I was ten, I was suddenly given a room to myself in Chennai. I felt lost and alone. I would stand outside the balcony of my room at night and whisper "Ammumma, Appuppa", into the starry night.

Summer vacations were always spent in Kerala.  I would stay with both sets of grandparents - paternal and maternal. My grandmother died yesterday. It didn't sink in for about two hours, until I finally saw her lying peacefully in a wooden box, covered in a beautiful white saree with a thick golden border, her wedding saree, my sister confirmed later. 

I stayed up half the night, chatting with my siblings and the other half attending to my restless 18 month old toddler. In the morning, I saw her again and broke down. The happiest chunk of my life has finally come to an end. No one in the world would call me the baby of the family anymore. No one can make appams, ribbon rice and maa laddoos the way ammumma did. And i didn't even bother to take the recipes from her. Stupid, stupid me. 

I'll miss you Ammumma, more than you'll ever know. Say Hi to Appuppan for me. He will take good care of you now. I'm happy that you are in a better place now. I just wish you could have stayed a little longer with us.