The Friday Exhaustion

The Friday exhaustion is real,

Somewhere in the middle of a ranting call, I heard myself squeal,

And completely broke down over the loss of my husband,

The grief shook me, I assumed I was already accustomed,

Who knew, a tiring week,

Would make me feel so weak,

I was drained,

And relieved,

For letting out a hysterical sob,

I could feel the violent throb,

Inside my brain and heart,

Those feelings never rest,

It hits you waves,

And clogs your breathing and airwaves,

Perhaps I should rest,

But this elephant sized memory that I have, makes me feel both cursed and blessed,

The Friday exhaustion is real,

And it's only human to let out an occasional squeal. 

Whoopsie Wednesdays

Got bitten by an ant this morning,

Accidentally broke a glass bottle without warning,

The brain's a ball of mush today,

Just the same as yesterday 

I struggle to put one word in front of the other,

My edits, a failed attempt to smother,

The key message, 

Splat in the middle of every tumbling paragraph, like a stubborn carriage,

Perhaps I am done,

I stop typing so maniacally, my fingers exhausted from being a rabid gun,

I munch on a giant Toblerone bar,

Trying to erase invisible scars,

A shitty day can always be turned around,

Simply by looking around,

Exhausting Wednesdays,

In our heads we dramatically convert them to doomsdays.

Drunk Awakenings

As I down one sugary glass of alcohol after another,

The face of my late love begins to appear, without too much of a bother,

I truly believe,

Alcohol has the ability to weave,

Reality with fiction,

I suddenly begin to natter without restriction,

Let me correct, natter more,

Perhaps I become a bore,

In my most drunk state,

I feel great,

On top of the world even,

While the floor beneath my feet feels uneven,

I cannot be trusted with alcohol,

My body gets into a slow crawl,

My brain's contents further enhanced,

I become entranced,

With everything and nothing,

I find myself constantly chuckling,

High my spirits,

Along with the alcoholic spirits,

Cheers!

Brothers

This bonding of brothers,

Is like no other,

They scream and fight,

With all their might,

When it's time to bid adieu,

Their hearts turn blue,

Sobbings eyes and hysterical chests,

Their minds are far from rest,

The love they have for one another,

Is like no other,

All you can do is stand by and watch,

Witnessing their love for one another go up every year by a notch,

How wonderful that they have one another,

This beautiful bond of brothers,

Bonded by blood,

Our family's three little studs.

The Juggle is Real

I'm not sure what is worse, being a single parent during Parent Teacher Meetings and Annual Day functions or knowing that even if my husband was alive, he wouldn't have taken an interest in attending any of these school do's.

For the most part, I don't feel the pinch of taking on the burden of a dead husband. This is all thanks to my supportive family, who try their best to show up for all these events along with me.

So while I witness full families in all their grandeur, for such programs, I'm still thankful for my mother or an occasional generous friend, who takes the burden off me for collecting uniforms, school books and attending school events with me.

It's hard, having to be two people at the same time, at two different places. I have to completely let go of work, while I'm trying to fulfill my motherly duties and I have to completely forgo my child, while I'm focusing at work.

My brain works on overdrive on most days, trying to make sure nothing slips off the list. Project submissions at work, buying gifts for birthday parties, shutting between tuition classes and work calls, the list is neverending and exhausting.

It's ironic how we're expected to build careers and raise our children at the same time. Every generation and the ones before us have done it and I look back at each one of them in awe.

The burnout is real, which is why I take to oversweetened cocktails and liquor shots every once in a while. To everyone going through this juggle, let's survive and thrive. Cheers! 

The Youngest and The Loudest

Growing up with three much older siblings, I was almost always left out from kiddie games, conversations and even card games well into my 20s. It hurt, the negligence and the neglect. But I'm just being dramatic now.

The plus side of being the youngest, was always being showered with gadgets, chocolates and clothes, much before it hit Indian shores. 

I grew up loud and attention seeking, partly because I was always left out and partly because I'm probably a little bit of a drama queen. But which woman isn't?

I spent a glorious 4 days off with my cousins in Trivandrum last week and came to realise, these men and women, along with their spouses know how to pamper me shitless.

My sweet older sister who knows absolutely nothing about superheroes, discovered a superhero store in Lulu Mall, Trivandrum. She proceeded to wake me up in the middle of my afternoon slumber and video called me to show me all the bobble heads around her. Our conversation went like this, "Gayu, do you like this little warrior lady?" 

"I already have Wonder Woman, show me someone else", I replied. "What about this masked man with an A?", she persisted. "I don't want Captain America. Do they have Spiderman hanging upside down?" I enquired. And our conversation went on like this for about a solid 5 minutes, until I zoned in on a handsome Deadpool figurine.

The next morning I was all set to catch my flight back to Chennai. I dressed up my 6 year old in a Transformers tshirt which my brother had picked up for him.

"Thanks for the wonderful Transformers tee for Riaan Swaroop chetta", I told my brother. "You're welcome. I remembered that he had Transformer toys at home", he replied. "Those toys are mine", I answered with a Cheshire cat grin.

He chuckled for a good 2 minutes and promised to buy me a Batman figurine which he had seen in the Chennai airport.

My siblings and their spouses have a special place in my heart. They've seen me in my diapers, they've seen me getting my first job, they've seen me falling in love, they've witnessed me breaking down completely 3.7 years ago and through it all they have stood by me with chocolates and toys, always handy.

What a blessing to have so many siblings and now their spouses, whom I get to call my own. What a pleasure it is to be the youngest born. 

Post Swim Blues

A mighty fall has been had,

On my butt I fell after a glorious swim, it was bad,

I felt on top of the world,

Until I found myself hurled, 

A slip of the feet,

Jute hotel slippers on wet concrete, it was quite a feat,

To have been a graceful swan one minute,

And a waddling injured duck the next, all under a minute,

I held my bum in pain,

With my left palm, which also felt sprained,

As I crawled back to my room,

I felt a sense of gloom,

I bumped into my tiny human,

Who was flanked on both side by my parents, like crewmen,

I cribbed about my mighty fall,

To them all,

Hopefully the rest of the day will be uneventful,

I'm ready to devour the scrumptious local cuisine in huge mouthfulls.

Love In A Single Frame

Love in a single frame,

All my favourite food in big fat portions, despite the pouring rain,

Thatukada chicken, naadan chilli chicken, palada payasam and mutta puffs, all under one roof,

This is proof,

That food is love and love is food,

An instant brightener of moods,

A quick trip down memory lane,

The days when life felt more sane,

No responsibilities,

A childhood filled with endless possibilities,

All revolving around games and food,

Life was simple and good,

We relive those simple days,

Through various ways,

Gobbling down food we grew up on,

Until one of us stifles a yawn,

Is one of those ways,

I can't wait for tommorow's rays,

To continue gobbling down to my heart's content.

Stranger Things

There were very few things in life poopie (my late husband) and I agree upon. Stranger Things was one of them. We had divorce inducing fights over who watched one more episode of the series alone, sneakily at night, disregarding the other.

Our taste in music, food, clothes, hobbies and lifestyle were vastly different. Yet, we were madly in love with each other.

Everytime a new season of Stranger Things drops, my heart skips a melancholic beat. I realise the vaccum in my life, left behind by my manchild husband. I suddenly have no one to argue with anymore on Stranger Things.

A world without you, even after 3 years and 7 months seems surreal. What a pity, you never got to see the Hawkins kids grow up and get into more adventures. What a pity, we can no longer binge watch the series together in complete silence. 

I'll miss you as I watch the final season this year. And I'll always wonder why this had to happen to us. 

Mothers and Tanning

Indian mothers are obsessed with their daughters tanning. Mine didn't show obvious biases except whenever it came to my career choices. "Mom I want to join the army", was met with "Shee! They'll make you cut your hair like a boy and you will do rigorous drills under the sun all day. Don't you like your hair and skin?"

"Mom, I should have continued being a journalist like Lois Lane and I may have met Superman", to which she replies, "And stand under the sun on fields all day to get one comment? Think again!"

Scorching summers, the sun and Indian mothers do not go hand in hand. I almost feel like crying and laughing when I recall these conversations today. How on earth can someone's career choices be dependent on heat?

Fifteen years in corporate communications and one child later, do I have life regrets? Yep. Just like anyone else. Therefore, the one thing that I do proudly now is to take a glorious dip under the 4pm sun in Gymkhana Club's heavily chlorinated pool.

I step out looking like an overbaked potato, nicely tanned and shriveled up. And that's my answer to tanning in the sun. Tan however much you want to, because the sun was created for you and me.

Too late to switch careers now, but it's never too late to sun-bathe and look like a juicy, burnt ripe watemelon. 

I have no solutions though, for the brain frying we endure during the weekdays. Sigh! 

Happy 70th

Wishing my mum a milestone birthday,

It's your special day,

All of 70 years old,

Your heart is filled with pure gold,

And your speech filled with wise cracks,

However much I rack,

The insides of my brain,

It certainly does not rain,

The wisdom which you disguise under sarcasm,

You've always kept me humble and advised me without words to tame my ego dragon,

Happy 70th mum,

You've seen me glum,

And you've seen me merry,

But your presence always make things feel less scary,

Enjoy your day,

Today and everyday,

We love you, 

As much as your chicken stew.

The Power of Icecream

I don't think my generation really understands depression or how to process it. We dealt with all our life problems by eating tons of icecream, deep fried food and crying. And I'm a certified whinebag. I'll mope and mope for months on end, until a good friend catches hold of me and shakes me up. After the shaking ends, I'll go back to moping.

And that's how I cope with uncomfortable life situations. Moping and crying are important to get all that negativity out of your system. Call me naive, call me too chatty, call me annoying and in your face, but the fact of the matter is, if I like you, I will share my sugar free icecream with you, forever.

Luckily, forever doesn't scare some of the best people in my life. They know I'm stuck with them and they're stuck with me. But not everyone can be chocolate sundae on a Monday (I'm chocolate sundae, of course) and I'm slowly and painfully wrapping my head around this reality.

They say by 40, you reach a balance in life, you're clear about your life goals. Perhaps I am clear. I've certainly hit a sweet spot in many aspects of my life. But the everyday juggle between work, baby and home gets to me. Me and ten billion other working parents I'm sure, so I'm not whining about that now.

May we find the strength to make peace with people and things we do not understand. May we have the power to let go of things we cannot control and most importantly, I really hope that sugar free icecream is infact sugarfree. 

Happy Monday!

My Tattoos

My tattoos are an extension of my soul. I get one every year around October partly because there's always a long weekend in October and partly because it's the beginning of Durga Puja, my late husband's favourite Bengali festival.

So the tattoos are in remembrance of a life I have shed away and an expression of my deepest desires. Not everyone understands it and I don't expect anyone to. Call it madness, call it impulsiveness or simply call it the desire to live knowing that there may not be a tomorrow again.

I have the sweetest tatoo artist, Rinchen who I visit annually at Iruzemi studio. He's quick to respond with "yes" to all my questions. "Have I lost weight this year?", "Can I get a giant Tinkerball above my ankle?", "How about a huge anchor?" 

He asks me a few questions back too, "How are you feeling? Does it hurt?" And I respond cockily, "Not as much as childbirth. Please continue inking."

It does hurt, and I sleep hard on the days I get a tattoo. That's a lot of trauma for the skin, which the brain tries to mellow down. Each tatoo takes 4-5 hours to complete.

I'm ready with my design for this year, and I can't wait for October. I highly recommend tattoos for anyone who wants to express themselves through skin, anyone who is undergoing a personality or life shift. It truly is therauptic and it's a work of art that you can be proud of, for the rest of your life.

So go get inked today!

Sugar Mummies and Daddies

A close friend and colleague of mine, had a serious debate with me about marrying a Sheikh and being his third or fourth wife. "At least I can sit inside my private jet and cry in peace", was her reasoning. Fair enough!

I countered that with, "But Shina, what about our brains? Don't we need intellectual stimulation? And do you think these dudes will look after our children and keep our houses neat and clean? Absolutely not! Everything will fall flat on our heads, at the end of the day."

To which she said, "But Gayatri, we can be on a yacht in the middle of the ocean flaunting our bikini bods." To which I countered, "That means we have to loose another 10 kilos. Not at all happening macha!"

On a serious note through, relationships no longer have the sanctity it once did when we were 20 year olds. Long term relationships, a serious commitment and ultimately marriage makes people want to run.

The last 3.5 years have been the loneliest of my life and also the busiest. I may be single and leading a chaotic life, but there is peace that comes with not choosing to be with the wrong partner.

A lonely marriage and a toxic relationship is much worse than being single. So I count my blessings everyday despite the lack of a hot and sexy guitarist husband (God bless his soul) that I didn't "settle down quickly" with just anyone.

As a young widow with a child, I'm showered with all sorts of advice everyday, all coming from places of love and concern of course. But I'm not in any rush to meet Mr Perfect #2, let him take his own sweet time to come. 

Until then, baby menace and I have many scores to settle with each other. Our hands are full, so are our hearts and lives. We're not alone, despite the absense of aforementioned hot and sexy late husband. 

Marrying that Sheikh maybe a good idea though, if he is willing to share household chores with me and deal with my son's mood swings. Otherwise, I'm not interested in being anyone's option number 2, 3 or 4. 

World War 3

The most heated arguments, 

And genuine compliments,

I receive in a day,

From my little minion, in his unique way,

The fights are earth shattering,

And the love is equally staggering,

How a 6 year old can be this opionated,

His ideas far from dated,

Is beyond me,

He fills me with equal parts of gloom and glee,

Our house is a nuclear bomb,

Always ticking and ready to explode, our war of words, will make you reach out for Tiger Balm,

It's pointless and silly,

We definitely sound like two hill-billies,

Tommorow is another day,

And I'm sure he'll yet again, have his way. 

Pediatricians

There are many perks to being a little person. Attention, time and toys being some of them. I also envy little people because they have the best doctors in the world - pediatricians. These men and women have a fantastic sense of humour. They're kind, gentle, funny and occasionally give away chocolates.

What a blessed life indeed! I wish I was a child all over again. I don't remember pediatricians being this sweet when I was growing up. An injection straight on the bum or an enema being popped up where the sun don't shine, is what I remember from all my hospital visits as a child.

I had severe bronchial asthama as a 3 year old and vaguely remember being hospitalised. The doctor was someone everyone feared. My chattering with all my co-patients would come to an abrupt halt, the minute the doctor entered the ward.

Perhaps children are still scared of doctors and hospitals. I know my little villain is, because he vomits the minute he sees a hospital, forget entering one. But then there are times, when he has his moments under the sun and wrangles a giant slab of Cadbury's Dairy Milk from his sweet doctor, simply because he flashed his milk teeth and his one dimple.  That one knows he's pretty and makes full advantage of his charm. Sly little bugger! 

Hospitals are places that evoke feelings of calm and panic. It all depends on your doctor and your attitude on beating whatever mild or deadly disease you currently harbour. 

I can't wait for our next vaccination shot and the possibility of receiving a giant slab of chocolate.  

Stress Free Weekends

You know those Sunday mornings when you wake up with a cloudy head and a feeling that you've eaten an entire hippopotamus in one go and you're still digesting it? Or that Monday morning heart attack in the middle of your chest, caused by gas, because you overate a beautiful Sunday lunch? Now, that's what I call a relaxed weekend.

The feeling of doing absolutely nothing, but eating, drinking and sleeping. What bliss! I miss my weekend already. The Monday through Friday drill sucks the very soul out of my body and what's left of me is this machine who robotically finishes one task after the other. There's simply no time to think, breathe, eat or sleep. Work and baby duties consume me, and this would be an understatement.

There are moments I ask my mother, "Do you think I should retire by 50?" And we both chuckle, because I'm a workaholic and life without work would be miserable. My brain would become a cobwebbed dungeon without this crazy routine.

So, sugary alcoholic drinks in fancy glasses and lipsmacking food aesthetically placed on a table, is what I look forward to. It gives meaning to my life. It makes the entire week's brain frying suddenly worth it. 

Let's not forget shopping, that rabid impulsive disease where most women tend to hoard pretty little dresses and tops and jewellery and make-up. Sigh! What a beautiful life indeed.

As we kickstart yet another brain frying week, let's not forget that simple life pleasures aka food, alcohol and clothes are just 5 days away. So we've got this. We will conquer this week, even if it tries to kill us. 

In the words of those funny gundas in the newly released Malayalam movie "Bad Boyz", "Jai Bhavani!". 

Dynamic Duo

A moment of appreciation for my mother today,

Who walked with me from shop to shop, without much of a sway,

An expensive bright red dress I had burnt,

The brunt of it which she unfortunately earned,

I suddenly tasked her to help me fix it,

And she took up the job, her determined face, unwilling to quit,

Multiple tailors and shop-owners we met,

Two of them directed us to another shop without a fret,

They admitted that the task at job was grave, near impossible even,

Perhaps this other shop they were suggesting, would make our worries break even,

And lo and behold, we found a beautiful patch work,

Upon reaching home, mum quickly put dad to work,

Both were busy ironing the patch work onto my bright red dress,

From raising a child, to helping me fix a dress my life in general has no stress,

All thanks to my dynamic duo, mom and dad,

With them around, life can never be too bad.

Crazy Busy Days

A crazy busy day has been had,

An escalation which we're yet to tide

Never have I felt my brain so fried,

By noon all my intelligence felt dried,

So I slept, so hard that I drooled all over my pillow,

I woke up feeling mellow,

Just in time for my little menace,

To get back from school, ready to push all my buttons,

I told him about my day,

I could see his little heart sway,

He takes my work problems seriously,

For about a second, and then continues to destroy my sanity evenly,

Digging deeper into my insecurities,

Reassuring me that we'd be homeless soon, our life soon fading into obscurity,

I shoo him out of the bathroom and stuff food down his throat,

Back to my laptop, to stay afloat,

What a mad day has been had,

Tommorow will probably be equally bad,

Sugar free icecreams and coffee will be had,

By the arrival of the weekend, we will all feel glad.

Sleep When The Baby Sleeps

The most absurd piece of advice given to new mothers is, "Sleep when the baby sleeps." How is this even possible? How can an infant's sleep schedule be matched with a grown adult woman's?

But now, since I've graduated to being a 6 year old mum, I have new advice to share. "Power nap when your school going menace is not around." And trust me, this nap does a world of wonder for your mood.

 

The insistent squabbling with your child, dips. I'm not saying the silly fights end, but they definitely reduce. You can finally attempt to being the adult in charge, as opposed to being the tired human in charge of the house, office work and tiny human duties. 

My weekdays are an absolute blur, one activity merges into another and when I hit the sack by 8.30pm, I sleep hard. There's no waking me up even if a Tsunami hits me on the face, drags me down to the ocean floor and drowns me. 

My son is equally irritable and on edge. He's tired, he's hungry and he hates school - the list is just endless. 

This phase of our lives is perfectly described by Dulqer Salmaan in Bangalore Days, "Pressure cooker alle njan... kurachu neram vechirikkanam, sheriyaavum!" which translates to "I'm not a pressure cooker... Give me some time, and everything will be fine! 

For now we're stuck in this rat race, little menace and I. So breathing in and breathing out is all that we can do, as we helplessly witness our lives speed by us in a lightening flash, dare I say, faster than Flash's supersonic run.