The Maniacy of Human Love

Remember Geet and her changing personalities in Jab We Met? Her cheerfulness and sudden moody withdrawal, all thanks to Anshuman. That's the maniacy of human love.

You can move mountains for each other. Change cities, change jobs, leave home - all for that one person who feels like home. That's love. It's all in or nothing.

Half-hearted, half-baked swiping left and right is an illusionary world created by tech geniuses who are now minting money out of people's loneliness. 

I do see traces of that love even now within family. Can another human being behave the way I did for my late husband and vice-versa? Time will tell I suppose.

While technology has connected a lot more people much quicker into our lives, the sad reality is that once the butterflies stop fluttering in both tummies, either one or both are ready to eject.

Where have spines gone? Along with the willpower and the perseverance to have hard conversations? Dead, along with my late husband. 

We all deserve a chance at love, but the question is are you willing to put in the work once the chole has gone cold? Will you reheat it in the microwave and fry fresh puris or bhatures to be devoured with that re-heated chole?

I know, I will. Waiting for someone to fry those bhatures for me now and we're good to go. 

Love. It's a warm mug of hot chocolate on a rainy day. A mother fighting through her PCOD pain to get her child ready for school. It's a grandfather popping in and out of your house at all odd hours just to see what his grandson is upto. It's a cousin buying you a superhero figurine from an obscure mall, having zero knowledge about superheroes.

Love is all around us. All we need to do is breathe and soak it in. 

The Ups and Downs of Single Parenting

Being a single parent means getting all your child's love in the place of two. It also means having to double as both parents. When my late husband passed away four years ago, my son Riaan was two years old. 

I often wore his father's clothes and footwear in those early days of his demise. And Riaan would question, "Why are you wearing Baba's flip-flops?" I would confidently answer, "Because I am Baba now."

Four years later, I can tell you, it's never wise to replace a parent. If you're the mother, be the mother. If you're the dad, please be the dad. One parent can never take the place of the other. I can never become a man, even if I pretend to be. Not in this lifetime anyway.

When I started taking Riaan to playzones after his father's passing, he would watch other children playing with their dad's and look visibly upset. That's no longer the case. 

Does he miss the absence of his father now? I'm sure he does. Perhaps it's a conversation to be had for his later years.

For the time being, he has wiped out all memories of his father, probably because he feels cut up by his sudden demise. He cracks morbid jokes on death and moves from one day to the next.

I try my best to compensate for the loss of his father by throwing myself at work and showering him with enough and more material goodies. Even then, I know it's still not enough. 

Some days I'm absolutely fried. On other days I'm at peace. But I know this is a battle that I cannot win. I can never take the place of his father and he will never experience his biological father's love. 

It is what it is. And the faster he and I can accept this reality, the better. 

Single parenting or any parenting for that matter is not for the weak hearted. Bringing a child into this world means ensuring that he or she makes something of himself or herself in this world. Only then can you go upstairs in peace.

The Beauty of Mortality

I'd choose to be a fragile, hormonal human over being a hot, sexy vampire who lived for centuries on end. Death, makes you value the life that you had, the love that you received and the love that you're capable of giving.

You realise how large you heart is and how much will power and determination you have to make things work. It makes you look at life with different lens. You're suddenly bolder, braver, more vocal and unabashed, because you've personally witnessed the fragility of life.

Your personality is split in two. One before the death of your loved one and, the other after you witnessed your loved one passing away. Both lives are equally fulfilling. One created wholly by you and the other complete with those precious memories which can only be relived in your mind.

You're young, yet you're old. Always on the verge of sanity and insanity. Flirting with happiness, still a little sad. It's like eating ven pongal. You can taste the comforting ghee and yellow moong dal in every bite, even if you can't see it. 

That's death, the lingering taste of ghee mixed with dal. It walks along with you every step of the way, reminding you of everything you've overcome and everything you're yet to create.

Embrace mortality. Drop some white chutney into that mix and you're good to go. Every day. 

Human Empowerment

My grandfather has been my role model ever since I was 4. I think it's safe to say that this family has been born with a silver spoon all thanks to the hardwork of that one man.

We lived in a sprawling house in Trivandrum with an even bigger compound. We were surrounded by trees and shrubs on every side with every imaginable animal possible inside our backyard. 

From a very young age, the subliminal message that I received was, hardwork is the only pathway to acquiring all the material possessions your heart desires. At the same time, never brag about everything you've achieved - professionally, personally and materialistically.

He was quiet about his achievements and loud with his affection. More a friend than a grandfather, I couldn't imagine a day without him. 

So when people ask me today if I'm a feminist or support female empowerment, I chuckle. As a human being we should empower each other. And one sex cannot survive without the other. History has shown this to us time and time again. 

So why do we still send silly memes and forwards on one gender putting down the other? I simply don't get it. Therefore, I choose to no longer be a part of this debate.

I'm a single mum, to a 6 year old boy. I idolised my grandfather and appreciate all the women in my family who've stayed at home to raise children. 

Women empowerment is redundant. Let's start thinking about human empowerment and how we can pour our creative and intellectual energies into bigger and better things. 

Jiggly Bits

Own your jiggly bits,

Every single inch of it,

Be proud of your thoppai and those birthing hips,

That grew your child, with a little help from potato chips,

Own your flab,

As you bite into yet another chocolate slab,

Fat kids will always be a little fat,

However much you pretend to be a gym rat,

God made the world round, along with you,

The fat is what fights flus,

And gets you back on your feet,

So just eat,

Minus the guilt, 

Simply accept that this is how you are built,

Own your jiggly bits,

Every single inch of it.

Food and Workouts

Broke my trainer's heart,

By telling her I eat a handful of chips each night, she instantly made me do 10 more squats,

I eat two pieces of dark chocolate too, 

I confessed, she increased my dumbbell reps by two,

Excercise and food don't go hand in hand,

We have to turn our taste buds bland,

To have washboard abs,

Grinned like a Chesire Cat as I wrote those words, for at present I have only jiggly flabs,

Filled with chocolate and oil,

Despite all that toil,

It is what it is,

I love food and food loves me, without something edible, my brain goes fizz.

Beauty And The Beast Can Never Be Rubbished

I think I was 21, when an older cousin, very rudely announced to me, "Real life is not a movie Gayatri. You cannot do such things." Honestly I still hate her now as much as I hated her in the moments that this sentence tumbled out of her ghastly mouth.

In my head, I'll always be 21. Who cares that I'm hitting 40 in less than 2 years. Forever young, is always the way to go. 

This morning though, that illusion burst in my head, all thanks to a dreadful Instragram reel that I saw. It revealed the real story of The Beauty and the Beast. I wish I had never seen it and I wish someone poured acid in my eyes, as I watched it.

The greatest fictional love story of all time, rubbished in less than two minutes. Whoever made that reel has all my curses. My entire childhood and adulthood's idea of romance was based on this iconic tale, as old as time.

I've seen the cartoon 50 times, the live musical once and the movie twice. In those few minutes, my not so favourite cousin's voice echoed in my mind. My heart didn't break, but my spirit certainly did.

This just cannot be. Gaston could not have been Belle's first love. I just cannot believe it. And so I choose not to.

I'm happy to live in a world filled with fairy tales, hot chocolate and crazy little boy play zones. Of course life is a movie if you want it to be. Take charge of it and burp out pixie dust along with unicorn flavoured poop. 

Now that that's settled, let's quickly move onto bigger life problems now. Next! 

Find Your People

The world is full of psychos, ourselves included. It's very important to find your bunch of psychos and stick to them. Those bunch of special people who've figured out the cuckoos in your head and don't flinch, get scared or run away. Those people are keepers.

Let the rest run. There is no such thing as an "almost person", "could have been", "almost happily ever after". Just no. This is not a romantic comedy with Adam Sandler trying to make Drew Barrymore remember their life together every single day, aka 50 first dates.

Those things exist only in the movies. Very sad realisation. But I've at least realised it now, close to 39 years later. In real life, romance is your mom-friend telling you in detail, the homework to be completed during the pooja holidays. Your mother pinging you 10,000 times a day asking if you've eaten. And your father investing in the mutual funds for you. That's real life. Solid. Constant. Steady. 

Let's not forget the siblings and their spouses, who also pamper you shitless and make you feel 10 years old, all over again. By you, I mean me, of course.

Go and find your people. And drink hot chocolate after you drown yourself in a bowl of luscious butter chicken. 

For everything else, there's HIT workouts and weight training. One minute of those bone crushing workouts and all your sadness will fly out the window, like it never existed.

Peace! ☮️✌️🏳️🕊️

Fluctuating Scales

The last two or is it five kilos,

Keep going up and down, like a blow,

To the ego, this proves that the metabolism,

Is on a perennial break, like a beautiful illusion, almost a prism,

That keeps you hoping against hope,

Almost like gripping onto a slippery rope,

As I popped luscious butter chicken,

With makki di roti for lunch, and then dessert after dessert, like I was grief stricken,

With the seasonal flu,

Not all grief is of the mind, some are of the body, that make us feel blue,

And so I ate,

And I ate,

Like I'd never seen food,

Each morsel lifted my mood,

A chocolate brownie, followed by a Biscoff cheesecake,

That ended with some pakodas and tart, today I'll take a break,

Back to the grind,

I've made up my mind,

It's a Monday morning,

There's no time for mourning,

Breakfast has been skipped,

The mouth will be closed and I'll remain tightlipped. 

Overcome

I think we're all in pain,

The least we can do is try to stay sane,

Fight those demons we must,

We certainly should not combust,

Mind over matter,

Even if you feel like the mad hatter,

Chocolates and weight training work for me,

It gives me the courage to free,

Those rabid thoughts,

Throw in a couple of squats,

And there's no time to feel sad,

Every drop of sweat makes me feel glad,

Strength begins on the outside,

Only then can it trickle inside,

Stay kind,

And just don't mind,

The white noise around you,

Just say boo,

And lift those weights,

You'll quickly start thinking straight.

Almost Seven

Almost seven,

Life together has been close to heaven,

My toothless wonder,

Makes me ponder,

With his 10,000 questions per second,

As I answer one, he's ready with the next, his chattering mouth, his weapon,

My personal All India Radio,

Sometimes I wonder if my house is a studio,

From morning to night,

This is my plight,

I can hardly think,

As his questions keep flowing in a wink,

What I don't like is that he's growing in a blink,

Where's my tiny baby with his diapers that stink,

Don't become seven so quickly,

I still want you to be that sleeping baby, tiny and picky,

Strange this feeling of watching my little bean,

Turning into a beanstalk, and into a wannabe teen,

100km/hr the speed of his mouth,

Anyone's ears will turn south,

My tiny chatter box,

With too many toy blocks,

I watch with you pride,

As you make the whole world ride,

Around your tiny fingers and mouth.