Stranger Things

Half way through the latest season of Stranger Things and it got me teary eyed for all sorts of reasons. To begin with, the kids have all grown up. And they're still trying to save the world in their unique, unintentionally hilarious way. 

Stranger Things was the only series, my late husband and I watched in competition with each other. These are probably the only children in the world, that he ever truly loved after his own son. 

I felt like a proud mother, a grieving widow and like I'd taken a capsule back in time as I binge watched episode after episode. In the midst of all that, I abruptly burst into tears and my 6 year old quickly took 5 steps back. 

"Why are you crying?", he asked, to which I replied, "This series reminds me a lot of your late father." 

"Then stop thinking about him", he replied without blinking an eyelid. Still crying, I wondered where I'd gone wrong as a parent. My Demogorgan mode of screaming and disciplining, he had made peace with. But he couldn't handle tears of love. I stared at the little robot I had created and wondered why he couldn't process grief or anything remotely complex, that was running in my mind. 

And then I realised I had never really cried in front of him until that point. In his mind, he had just moved two cities, moved to two different schools in 4 years and could no longer physically see the nice man who played with him every weekend.

He had no idea what he'd lost and in that moment all I could feel for him was more heartbreak. How could I ever make him understand marriage and love and what a father really is. 

Will could control Demogorgens now and only I witnessed it. Time and story lines keep moving cruelly forward, as if my son and my world never collapsed around us. 

While I definitely don't miss staying up beyond 10pm or eating chicken wings until midnight, I definitely do miss the man who made me do all those questionable things. 

Slave To The Grind

A slave to the grind,

And a slave to my baby's mind,

The hours fly by,

In the blink of an eye,

Take today for example, the promise of a peaceful weekend,

Yet from the crack of dawn, the chores seem to have no end,

Multiple snacks,

Each one fresh and attractive looking, that my brain has to hack,

For my picky eater,

Who talks a mile a meter,

Squeezed in a little workout and some clothes to be washed,

I'm already feeling squashed,

Is it time for my afternoon siesta yet?

This weekend it seems to be under threat,

With my hyperactive mini,

Whose unending requests are making my head giddy.

Closure

Perhaps the questions in my head towards people, life situations and work grew by the million after the abrupt passing away of my young husband. It's true that no one owes you anything. But clarity at times needs to be repeated more than once. It's just a humane way to end things. 

Try and try your very best to not give out mixed signals. Be clear in your intentions and your communication, however direct, brutal and honest. 

An old friend I recently met told me, "You were much more stupid in your 20s, than you are now. So always keep your guard up and continue to take well informed decisions". 

The thing with feeling sad now as an adult is that you can no longer bawl your guts out and eat all the icecream in the world. Instead, you bandage up and keep moving forward, pretending everything is peachy. This is right and wrong.

It's right because as an adult you have work, children, family and your own health to take care of. It's wrong because you can always feel the hurt around the corners of your brain and one day it will all blow up on your face.

Accept shitty situations and people as they are. If your questions remain unanswered, that's your answer. 

Move on and keep the faith that everything will turn out A-OK in the end because, "picture abhi baaki hai mere dost", as quoted by Om Prakash Makhija in Om Shanti Om.

Of course, I had to end with a soppy hindi movie dialogue because life is soppy and messy. Let's accept that too! 

Pancakes

Made awesome pancakes last night,

And devoured every bite,

If it's Gaajar Halwa season,

Why is it that the weighing scale goes up for no reason,

It's cruel that's it's winter,

Chennai's pleasant winter,

And we still don't get to eat,

A mountain of sweet treats,

Minus the fear of piling on the pounds,

Yet those delightful thoughts, 

Never seem to end,

Sugary delights always make my heart and mind bend,

Sugar, the white drug of this generation,

It certainly has me in a fixation,

Made awesome pancakes last night,

Perhaps I may make them every alternate night. 

Flat Abs

Flat abs are a beautiful thing to have,

But it's no fun to eat a double chocolate chip cookie in half,

Have you tried two bowls of spicy Sri Krishna Sweets chips,

And you don't need dips,

Because that flavour bomb really hits you,

As your brain tries to construe,

What Srikant Tiwari is going to do next,

In the Family Man, that will have you feeling hexed,

So perhaps I'll never lose the last 3 kilos,

Or is it 5 kilos,

I've lost track,

And the last few kilos, I just haven't been able to hack,

I accept defeat,

In the face of deep fried goodies and sugary treats,

I'll always be just a little round,

Because bowlfuls of comfort food, I'll always hound. 

Online Homework

Online homework, the biggest man-made catastrophe,

My 6 year old and I failed disastrously,

Trying to complete one that came in last afternoon,

The words on screen made him swoon,

A shaky lip,

And a twist to his baby hips,

Yet, the homework remained undone,

Repeating each letter and word 100 times together, was far from fun,

Who knew a language could perplex my boy this much,

The laptop he attempted to clutch,

Letters and words pronounced all wrong,

We kept at it for very, very long,

The first homework in his life,

That caused him so much strife,

Conquer we will, this language,

We will surely unpack this baggage,

Online homework, the biggest man-made catastrophe,

My 6 year old and I will try our best to not fail so disastrously.

My Not So Little Bean

A cross between a grandfather and a baby,

My little bean grew up in the midst of all things crazy,

Life and death,

He's seen them all in one breath,

His humour is dark,

His chatter is always on mark,

A hug can solve anything,

Is his motto for everything,

He cuddles and squishes heads with his bare hands,

His love and his anger, all grand,

There's no balance to his actions,

Once he's made up his mind, he doens't give in to distractions,

Stubborn and playful,

His emotions are as wide as his toys, that you can find in trayfuls,

A cross between a grandfather and a baby,

My little bean grew up in the midst of all things crazy.

Forgiveness

I've seen quite a bit of the world at almost 39. I've experienced strange opinions, people and situations. The commonality I draw in all three, is to forget and forgive. Life is really fragile and unexpected. One moment I was walking up a hill in Raheja Vihar, Mumbai and the next I was rushing to Bombay Hospital to bring my dead 35 year old husband's body back home.

A lot has changed in these 4 years. Cities, people and my life. I'm still kept on many people's speed dials the moment a young spouse, sibling, nephew or niece pass away. I'm that girl now, the one who is an expert on death. Not really though. You learn how to handle your grief and mood better, with time. 

In the same light, people also suddenly assume they can advice you on everything and nothing. Honestly, the only thing you can do is ignore it and walk away for your own peace of mind. I no longer cut people out, because one minute you're alive and the next you're dead. So there's no point holding onto grudges 

Stay calm in the face of unsolicited advice. Whether it's career or personal advice. You know your skills best, you know your family and close friends best. And the ones who run, were never meant to stay in the first place.

There are numerous faces that come to mind now, when I was exploding my widow brains out of proportion. And the good news is, they all chose to stay.

So that's all you can do. Be authentic, not a people pleaser. Be vocal, yet polite. And those who are triggered by you, will anyway step aside. 

Coming back to opinions now and unsolicited advice. Treat it like a fart or a stray dog barking endlessly. Take what's relevant and flush out the rest. And forgive those who natter, just for the sake of nattering. It's simply a childhood trauma or an adulthood insecurity that they are projecting onto you. Let it go and move on. 

It's time to give a Ted talk or write another book. I can feel either one of these happening now. 

The moral of this very true life story is, don't allow a trigger to trigger you, unless you're super duper triggered. And even then, take 20 steps back, take a deep breath and ponder about how this will really make a difference to your life in the first place. You'll realise nothing is truly worth it, except your own peace of mind. So safeguard it, inside an airtight vault. And you're good to go. Forever! 

Boundless Energy

Boundless his energy,

From one game to the next, he plays endlessly,

Minutes turn into hours, 

His energy keeps gaining special powers,

Endless the chatter,

You can't beat his natter,

As I recover from one crazy game,

He's already onto the next, like a growing flame,

He's happiest at home,

Or inside large play zones, where he loves to roam,

The crazy almost seven,

They say these years are heaven,

I wonder which heaven has endless games,

Loud baby chatter, mad running and boarddgames,

I'm beyond exhausted by the end of the day,

Hopefully these crazy years are not here to stay.

Toxic Positivity

Recently someone called me pessimistic and told me that I must look forward to the new year. That's the thing about toxic positively. We don't have to celebrate the shit show our life displays at times and keep taking it in our stride.

On the contrary, it's good to grieve and see the mess that it is. Acknowledge the situation, accept it and move on. When a person vents, allow him or her to vent.

It's not sensitive or appropriate, to look him or her in face and say, "Oh! But a 100 people would want to be in your shoes." Really? Who wants a dead husband at 34? Any winners? No? That's what I thought.

Of course I'm pessimistic and wary. Life has challenged me and challenged me, until the point I've wanted to give up. I wake up every morning and keep at it, not because of courage or strength. Because I simply have to. And that is that. 

So anyone who tells you to be toxically positive, the next time you vent, simply hang up or politely smile and nod. No one understands your struggles except you. 

Perhaps this is yet another lesson for me, to not vent with all and sundry. It's a waste of time and effort. It makes you feel even more misunderstood.

Peace! ☮️

Timing

Just as I was wrapping my head around being a mother, was the time I lost my partner of close to 13 years. The timing was horrible. 

I felt like a resident of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, taking a nice early morning dump. But instead of enjoying my morning session, an atomic bomb was dropped on my head.

Perhaps my 2 year old had to grow up very quickly. I could hardly be human, forget parenting. It completely took a backseat as I focused on rebuilding the broken pieces of our life.

I worked just like my late husband would had he been alive - relentlessly and without a break. Within 2 years, I was rushed to the hospital for breathlessness and fatigue. That was clearly not a good plan.

And so I decided to course correct. Now, I work and parent, juggling both like a headless chicken. Mother's can never have it all, especially working mothers. We have deadlines to meet at work and tests to catch up with in school.

My weekdays are all over the place. I have no idea when it begins and when it ends. The weekends just fly by, before I can breathe in a warm glass of cocoa. 

I also try to stay in shape and kill myself in the process. What a tiring life this is. I hear menopause is just around the corner, or is it a decade away. Time will tell I suppose.

Send sugar free chocolates and prayers, my child and I need them. 

2025

What a bummer of a year it has been,

From where do I begin,

Underwhelmed, disappointed and shocked,

These were the emotions that flocked,

Unsolicited advice being the most annoying of the lot,

Let me write my own plot,

I've done it so far,

And got this far,

So please keep your wisdom to yourself,

In the far corners of your own brain's shelf,

4 years of single parenting,

4 years of lamenting,

Whether I'm failing with the biggest job role of my life,

Perhaps this feeling of strife,

Is simply a waste of time,

He is at his prime,

Utterly naughty and full of ideas,

A saint and a thug,

All rolled in one,

No longer a little bun,

Here's hoping for a better 2026,

Where everything would eventually click. 

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! ☮️✌️🏳️🕊️