Ooty and I - A True Love Story

 

How do you remember a place you've holidayed at recently? Is it the people? Is it the weather? No! It's the legendary food! And Ooty, is legendary when it comes to it's food. Right from chocolates to traditional bakery snacks (not the cheap junky stuff you get in the cities) and fabulous Mutton curries.

If there is a heaven on Earth, this is it. I've discovered my soft spot. Mutta Puffs and me - a sordid love affair, morning, noon and night. I'm announcing my love for this flaky, eggy, decadent delight to the whole world!

Ooty is also famous for Moddy's chocolates. Melt in your mouth and flavoursome, these chocolates are to die for. If i got hit by a truck right now and died, I'd die a very happy woman, because I've attained Nirvana with these gooey delights. There's also Moddy's hot chocolate in three different flavors - Classic, Mocha and Hazelnut.

Then there's that beautiful mountain air that you breathe in and out every moment of everyday - while you're working, walking, bathing, sleeping or pooping. It just hits you with a tinge of Eucalyptus. It's sure to bring a smile to your face.

Next there's the sheer variety of food, catering specifically to tourists - Chinese, Indian, Continental, Italian, Grilled Meats - you can't go wrong with any of them. You're left licking your fingers and ordering more, until you get a tummy upset.

I'm not sure what I've fallen more in love with - the weather, the food or the complete silence around me. I can hear bugs walking on the floor and birds chirping. There's the occasional interesting looking biker chap riding by, who makes quite a roar on his machine. Otherwise, trees and silence surround you 24*7*365.

Ooty - the perfect getaway for remote workers, retired folks and children. 

My Toddler, The Fighter

My 4.5 year old has experienced trauma beyond his years. He was half-orphaned at 2.11 years old by his seemingly active and young father. He doesn't understand the concept of death and initially thought that he's just playing hide and seek with him. 

Today, he accepts that he has no father and no longer waits for him. All he says with a sad acceptance is "Baba was my favourite person. He should have stayed with us forever"

I give my child so little credit for the enormous task he has to undergo and complete everyday, which is healing his little heart and adjusting to this new reality.

Between the two of us, he's the stronger fighter and has responded to trauma so much better than me. While I still wail and cry in moments, my child breathes through it all and looks at me with googly eyes and says, "Don't worry maamaa, I'll take care of you"

The role of caregiver flips in an instant and I wonder who is taking care of whom really. Who is the mother and who is the child? 

My child born out of trauma, has beaten all odds and has grown into a caring, sensitive and inquisitive 4.5 year old. He wins hearts in an instant - be it family friends, close neighbours, his school teachers, his summer camp masters. He has them all in his pocket with his intelligent volley of questions.

I'm so proud to be his maamaa and I hope I never let him down. 

Single Mom

Single mom, it's a badge I wear proudly, because I didn't allow my 35 year old husband's death to define the rest of mine or my son's life. 

My son broke two of his front teeth today and my initial reaction was hysteria, until my 67 year old mother told me to snap out of it and not scare him further.

My ever helpful and wonderful neighbours, Anu aunty and Seetharaman uncle who has rushed me to a hospital a couple of decades ago in a similar state, rushed my son to the nearest clinic today. 

Coming back to that point of being a single mom, am I one really, with family and neighbors like family around? 

A dead body being carried out of an ambulance was the first sight I saw this morning during my walk and as i passed the house, I heard loud wailing. Who understands death better than me? Life as they knew it had forever ended. I understood.

Death, what a convenient thing for the deceased. No work tension, no life tension and definitely no hassles of raising a child.

As i lay next to my 4 year old, with his freshly minced bloodied gums, i realised the purpose of my life. It is to make him proud and those are huge shoes that I'm wearing.

Someday he will grow up and tell the world, "My mother was a young widow and I was a baby when we lost my father, but she did not sit still and allow life to defeat her. She lived for us and I am glad she did"

I suddenly had a flash of myself as a very old lady, standing in front of a large audience narrating the very same story - the story of my life, the one that I kept fighting for.

So what if I don't have a fairy tale happy ending? The ending is upto me to write now and I'll write a great one, along with my toothless baby.