Time to fly

For the past 20 years, my life has revolved around my kids and family.  I have to admit, I have never been the all consuming perfect mother. I enjoyed every bit of it, but was I any good? Well let's just say that if there were medals being handed out for being outstanding parent, rest assured I wouldn't be even on the waiting list. I consider myself to be a mediocre mother. I haven't made any huge sacrifices, I didn't have to.  I have received more joy from my kids, than I am sure they have from me. The perks of disciplining.  There are loving mothers, there are fun mothers, there are perfect mothers, I consider myself to be a functional mother. I remember, when my older son was one year old, I was so relieved that he had survived 365 days with me. In these 20 years, along with lots of love, hugs and kisses, peppered with yelling and bouts of angry displays, and ranting my heart out even when I knew they were not listening, I have managed to raise two kind adults who whether they admit it or not are feminists in their own rights. Parenting is tough- letting go is tougher after all these of waiting for them to grow up, there is a sense of satisfaction, along with with the stoic acceptance that  my role in their lives has been downgraded from lead lady to supporting actor, not an easy demotion to accept.

After the initial glitch and adjustment period which lasted maybe for a year or so, I am learning to enjoy my reclaimed time and freedom. My job description  as the primary nurturer and caregiver has now evolved to being more to that of cheerleader in the best of times, and a mute spectator at worst which is what it is going to be in the future times for sure. Watching them step into adulthood, getting first jobs, resigning, flunking exams, to first girlfriend, all testing my maturity as an adult. I hate to admit, but I did freak out for a couple of days on some girl, sharing my son's affection.

Yet, after all drama, I am loving this new stage of my life. I can finally live selfishly - I can put myself first now, most of the times.  I still volunteer to  cook for the boys,do their laundry and all the other stuff that maybe I shouldn't be doing anymore but  knowing that I have the choice to quit doing so, is very empowering. I also now have two more interesting adults to talk to , to discuss music, movies, books and life in general. 

Accidental banker

If my tiny office could talk, it would reveal stories - stories of struggles, of success, of heartbreaks and betrayals, of love, all beyond the numbers that are reflected in their bank statements. Each one of us has fallen, failed and risen in our own ways. In the past few years of being an an accidental banker, I have learnt a few things about life and people in general. Tears have been shed, hugs shared, sounds of laughter and joy and often things that keep people up at night. Finances reveal a lot about you .Numbers don't lie, but they don't tell the complete story. In the past 4 years, I have shared my failures, my successes as others have with me. Some heartbreaking stories stay with you forever. My job has given me insight to mosiac of life - collecting one piece at a time.  Life lessons at 46 - yes it is possible.

1) Never assume. Ask. Time and again I err and assume, making  a judgment without questioning. Asking questions is not rude, but judging someone without knowing their background definitely is. it is surprising how asking the right questions can reveal a story that would have been lost forever.

2) Some thought processes can never be understood, let alone be agreed on. All journeys cannot be understood, and maybe we don't need to, yet respecting it anyways is a possibility.

3) Every journey is unique. All of us have a story to tell. We are all vulnerable and looking for love in some form or other.

4) Poverty is ugly. Period. Money is not evil, but greed is.

5) Beware of debts. It is so easy to take on, yet not all of our bad  financial situations are because of being bad with money. Along with just being plain careless with money, and instant gratification, there are other valid reasons that bring people on the brink of financial crisis like failure in business, bad health , divorce and many more..

6)The rich get where they are because they are conscious of every penny they spend. The most discerning clients are rich people. Not necessarily happiest. But also not necessarily unhappiest.

7) Life is short and unpredictable. Make provisions for your loved ones.Love is not what you do when you are alive , love is also taking care of them after you are long gone. If you have dependents, you need a valid will . If you believe every day could be your last, make plans accordingly.

8) Money can sour the sweetest of relationships. Money matters, in all relationships. Financial stability is a strength in any relationship and a mark of how healthy your relationships are

9) Jerks have no creed and there is no stereotype .I wish I could say rich people are jerks, or people on welfare are. They are unfortunately spread across indiscriminately .

10) The greatest wealth we have is our family and our health. Laughter is the common factor for both.

Life Unhurried

A question we all need to ask ourselves everyday, is what would I be doing if today was my last day on earth? Technically and realistically it is possible that it very well could be. I don't know of any other measure that can judge our sense of happiness better than this.  We are creatures of habit, we love our routines and although we know we are mortal, we  believe somewhere deep in our heart that we are indestructible.  How else can we possibly explain our mindless living? Days turn into weeks, into months and years, and before we know half our life has been lived without us even realizing it, and probably on terms set by someone else.

Life can be rushed even if you are not actively seeking a busy life. I like to keep balance, like to take the  time to smell the roses , to watch the sun set, to see the sky change colors to hide into darkness, or to just watch the first star shyly taking over the sky. I love to watch the leaves falling, pick fresh wild berries on my walks, to strain my ears to listen to different sounds of chirping . There is nothing more humbling than standing under a sky full of stars to realize how lucky you are to be where you are. Every rain drop, every sunrise, every sun ray that tries to peep through the clouds, every cloud that hugs the mountains, every time the breeze whispers or the sun reaches and touches my skin,  I feel grateful to be alive. 

As much as I love a good conversation, as much as I enjoy connecting with people, solitude is what recharges me. Life is all about connecting - connecting with people, loving people, empathizing, but it is also about connecting with your inner self. We cannot live mindlessly . Busyness is not necessarily a good thing. At times weekends are enough, but all of us need  to have at least couple of minutes to sit and reflect on how our day was. Not recounting, not expressing to anyone, but only sitting in silence and reflecting on where we are going and why.
Life needs to flow, flow at its own pace. We cannot rush life - we just have to keep up with it- to listen, to feel. There is honestly no guaranteed tomorrows, no planned retirements, no "I will start living when ...". Time is now and here - in the present.  

Empty Nest

Have you ever stood under a sky full of stars and wondered at your insignificance? In my case, looking up at the sky is always a revelation, a reality check. The thing about life is that it is so uncertain, yet here we are with all our silly plans, postponing our happiness for tomorrow. Lately, I have been going through this malaise called "mid-life crisis". It is more common than you would think. It is when you reach half way through your life span and look back and wonder what you have done with your life.. It is a realization that maybe all is not lost, and life could still be different. It is the urgency of time ticking by  and a sense of loss.  When I meet young adults, just starting their life, there is a tinge of despair, a feeling of nostalgia for time gone by. The realization that I  have passed that stage, that all that is in the past, and even if I wanted to, I could not rewind the clock back, leaves you with despair. I understand a decade from now, I would be looking at the current phase with longing too.

Once you are in your mid -twenties, you invest in your career and if you are lucky a happy family. What no one ever tells you is that along with being rewarding, building a family is all consuming too, as it should rightly be so. The years from when your kids are born, till the time, they are sort-of independent, flies away at times in a haze. I am not a sentimentalist, I rarely look back at old photos,but the truth is dawning on me that at present I am more dependent on my kids for my emotional needs than they are on me.  They are starting to step out in the world and will need me time and again, I know that because I am fortunate enough to still lean in to my parents. But for now my role is to lurk in the shadows , be the safety net while they learn to trapeze through life.

I would be lying if I said that adapting to this  pre-empty nest  stage is easy I had happily lost myself in this journey of being a responsible adult. I am in the process of rediscovering myself, trying to fill in the vacuum. I have waited long for this phase, to reclaim my time as an individual, yet I feel despair, with my role as nurturer, disciplinarian, and at times maid, being replaced by a friend that lurks in the background. I am lost for now, trying to reinvent a life- to create a life beyond kids, to adapt to a new phase in life. 

 

Mr. and Mrs. Lobo

What makes a story interesting? Is it the drama, is it twists in the plot, the characters or just the message that's  uplifting enough? Everyone has a story to tell - each one of us has one that may be inspiring to others, or may just bring out emotions that were long thought to have disappeared. Stories that stay with us, are ones that stir the core of our emotions. Characters as complex and as flawed as we are. I for sure don't want to hear a story that is all glorifying - humans are flawed, they are twisted and contradictory and that is what makes us interesting. My earliest memories are of my childhood in a still developing suburb in  Bombay and emulating Enid Blyton's Famous Five characters. A child's imagination knows no bounds and we would go out to a lake (pond?) and the slums beyond in search of solving a crime. Finding evil where there was none, sharing ghost stories at a nearby graveyard, stealing roses from a next-door-neighbors garden, and one time stealing a quarter from my mom to buy a snowcone. The last one didn't have a happy ending. Lesson learned, that life is all fun till you get caught.

I have special memories of growing up in Mumbai - School was in the same compound and my school friends were just a shout away. When I close my eyes, it seems that if I was ever carefree, it was there. My room was a balcony covered to make a makeshift bedroom, no car, no exotic vacations, a black and white TV coveted by neighbors, one channel and a few odd good shows.  Living in a colony of apartments, you cannot avoid people. I consider myself an introvert, yet as a kid, my memories are about the people who shaped my life.The apartment or flat as it is called in India, right across from us was owned by Mr.and Mrs. Lobo, Names haven't been changed. When you live in small spaces, you run out of options to avoid people. When I think about it, I remember crossing the passage to go to Lobo aunty's house almost daily. Now that was my first encounter with the western living. Mrs. Lobo was from Goa - a big lady who wore a gown or Caftan most of the time. I had mussels at her house for the first time, caught a whiff of English song on an LP player, and saw the nativity scene during Christmas at her house. She introduced me to the western culture. I loved her and I am sure she loved me too. Mr. Lobo was a colorful man and being shy as a kid, my memory of him is limited to his bright Hawaiian shirts- which was a contrast to my dad's boring plain white. The Lobos were childless -and their house -spotless, still evokes pleasant memories. When you give someone with heart, you don't just gift them a thing, you are passing on your love. The dress that Mrs. Lobo sewed for me 35 years ago - overnight apparently, is something that I equate with love. I am certain she charged for it, but for a 9-year-old kid, it was a gesture that has stayed on over the years.  

I did go back to visit the colony some years later, but couldn't meet the Lobos. Last I heard, they had moved back to Goa. There are people who shape your life, at times unknowingly, people who inspire you to be a better person. A child's heart and eyes perceive the good in others. My parents might have a different opinion about them, maybe they didn't like the noise we made, or something else, but I am happy in the memory that I have of them.

Feeling Alive

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These days, I am struggling to bring coherence to my thoughts, trying to make sense of living.  Although  one thing with a busy life is that you have no time to stop and analyze your thoughts and overthink. Days turn into week and weeks into months. Pauses give rhythms to music, spaces give words meaning, and being alone to reflect on our day, gives our life meaning. Keep going mindlessly without a pause and before you know it, you will wonder where the time went and if you could have lived your life better.

There is a feeling of restlessness. Just like the embedded splinter that keeps on niggling you - not a  pain, not an ache, but a sort of uneasiness that makes you wonder about your presence on earth. You want to reevaluate your life, maybe wonder at some of the decisions made, maybe just wonder if you are being truthful to yourself. Or to be more precise if you have the courage to be truthful.

These waves of uncertainty don't last for long, this self-doubt, this feeling of uneasiness, of feeling that you are not where you ought to be, fades away in the shadows, re-emerging time and again, only to be shooed away into darkness.

There can be no living without expression of emotions. We love, hate, feel angry, kindness, pity, and fear, among other emotions, expressing it only how we can. Sometimes we go through all these emotions within a short period of minutes and many times all the seemingly conflicting emotions at once. Emotions that are supposed to move in exclusive circles, seem to be happy to mingle with each other, all to our utter confusion.

Life is orderly, we are chaotic. We make living exciting, we color our world in our unique way  with moments of joy, pain , love and at times just indifference. You create your reality, you create your life. You create moments, you create your memories. You decide what to put the spotlight on  and what to throw away in the dumpster of your memories.
Yet this lethal cocktail of emotions is what connects us to our fellow beings. We can see the flaws, we can empathize and secretly we all are glad that we are not the only ones out there trying to come in the grips of reality.

 We need each other to survive, to grow. Our connections, mental, emotional are  all tattooed in the very fabric of our soul. Every connection, however, fleeting becomes a part of our being. We can change and grow and let life take us where we are supposed to be, or stagnate and stop living. We can be brave and face the truth or continue to live in lie for others. Whatever we do, however we live, that is our reality, that is our perception of life.