I am a Loser

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Picked up my son from school last week, and the first words that came out of his mouth were, “I am a loser Mom.”

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever expected my son to say these words. Where had he heard them, who called him that? All these questions raced through my head, while the pit in my stomach grew. My first reaction was that of shock, and then the anger came. I asked him at the top of my voice what happened in school?

A little background about my son. He is a happy little kid, an honest little boy with a big heart, who sees good in everyone. He is the kid who gets picked on because he is gullible, and simple. But yet he continues to trust, and help his friends whenever he can.

He is starting to understand that the world is made up of people who don’t want the best for him. This crushes his spirit, and in turn makes the lioness in me come out. There is a constant battle in my head that wants to tell him to go ahead and be mean to them, but then we have enough of the mean kids around. I am raising my child to show respect, love and honesty no matter what, and who hurts him. But I am also raising him to stand up for himself, and for others who cannot.

But what happens when he cannot approach an adult in school? What if he is scared he is not being heard? I told him I would have his back as long as he has been honest, and respectful. He knows no matter what the consequences, to always speak the truth.

We need to do right by all children. They need to have a safe space to grow, to evolve, and to be able to make express themselves. We should teach them about love, respect and being honest with one another. If they make a mistake, which they should, then we need to be patient with them, and make it a learning experience. They should never feel like they are alone when they are in school, or at home.

These kids are our future, and it is our responsibility as adults to show them the right path.

Connected, yet disconnected…c’est la vie

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We get so busy with our lives that we forget what it truly means to live. We use this excuse of being so busy that we don’t have time to meet with our old friends, meet with our family or to truly live. 

I found out today that a friend passed away back in April. I was shocked on why I was just finding out. He was younger than me, and was my brothers classmate. I have basically known him almost 30 years. He leaves behind his wife, kids and parents. My heart breaks for his family, especially for his parents. I am grateful I got to see him a few years ago and he got to spend time with my family. But just like that a young life was taken.

I have always said that our life is unpredictable, and death is inevitable. But how we chose to live our life everyday does matter. I have stopped watching the news because it is so depressing, I also keep toxic people at bay, but I do eat that ice cream when I want. But I am also working on getting healthier for myself so I can live my life better. I am trying to consciously do things that make me happy, though I have days that are just too hard to handle. I will still get up, wear that smile and be thankful to be able to see another sunrise. 

So my dear friend…I hope you are at peace wherever you are. I hope and pray your family finds solace in all the good memories. And I hope we take this as a lesson on how short this life truly is. 


Till we meet again…..

Why I never took many photographs with my son

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Sitting here and thinking back to when I had my first baby, I remember easing into motherhood with so much joy. But that joy was short-lived when I went into postpartum depression as I got laid off right after I had my son. The timing could not be any better.

Being a new mother and not knowing what the hell I was doing, and having a baby who was colicky also did not help. I was exhausted, and there were times I wanted to run away from everything. I was battling low self-esteem, depression and loneliness. The weight kept creeping on, and that brought me down even more. I never wanted to be in any photographs, but loved taking photographs of my newborn son. I took thousands of photographs during the first three to four years of his life, and still do. But I was hardly in any of them. I hated my appearance, and it did not help matters when my side of the family kept reminding me on how I need to lose the weight. They told me how I would look pretty if I lost the weight. Ugh!!! I wanted to scream at everyone. Even when I visited India, I was told by the shopkeepers that I was too fat, and they did not have anything for me. Everyone had this image that being thin makes one beautiful. A very brief background about me: I never used to be a big girl, I was into sports and was always fit. I remember being told that I was too thin and needed to put on weight. No one seemed satisfied with how I looked. I was never bothered about what people thought about me back then, so why was it bothering me now.

The weight came on after my two pregnancies in one year, sending my hormones into a tailspin. I did not care about myself as I was too busy taking care of my baby. When my son was about three or so, I was going through his baby year photographs and realized how I was not part of most of the pictures. I casually mentioned this to my mother in law, and a couple of sister in laws. They told me that when I am much older, and when my son was older too, he would probably ask me why I was never in any of his memories. They encouraged me to be in the pictures with him. That took about seven to eight months, and I finally started to feel comfortable in my skin.

Though the comments never stopped on how fat I was, but by now I had grown a thick hide. I was confident about myself, and the people kept talking but I did not care. My son is now eight, and I absolutely love being in photographs with him, making goofy faces and being silly. I know I will be able to look back on these days with a lot of happiness and pride. I am still not “thin”, but that is okay. Who said we need to be thin to feel beautiful? I love the way I look and feel now. I have never been more confident in my life, and most importantly I am the most beautiful woman to my little man. What more can I ask for.

And then there was a wedding….or something like that.

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So I don’t know how many times I have started, and re-started this particular blog. This was supposed to be the next step after the “awkward proposal”. There was someone who did not approve of this…but since I am at a stage in my life where I don’t care about what anyone thinks anymore, here goes.

After returning from India, we went back to being busy with our respective jobs. After a month or so we picked a date, actually I did. So the date I picked was a month after my birthday. I figured it would be easy to remember.

Wedding planning is the most stressful event ever, even worse when you have no one from your own family to advise and help. As much as I wanted a traditional Indian wedding with the dancing, henna, and Rukhsati, I knew that was never going to happen. He is a Catholic, and I am a Muslim, so we wanted to have something very small at a non-denominational chapel.  In order to have a Catholic wedding, one needs to go through a marriage class with the priest. Well, we went to see a priest, and had to fill out a questionnaire each and then we were questioned individually. When he asked me if I was going to baptize my child, I said I was not even sure I wanted a child. But they needed an answer and a signature, which would then go to the Archdiocese of Washington DC. Well, my answer was no I was not. At that point the “interview” was stopped and he called my fiance in, and said we could not get married in a Catholic Church, which I already knew before even going to meet this priest. So I looked at different chapels on my own, but nothing was working out.

This planning was annoying especially since I was trying to do it on my own without any help. So with the date picked, I had my mom print cards in India, and I sent out an Evite out to family & friends in the United States. Those who wanted to be there could, and those who did not, oh well. I definitely ruffled some feathers, but with no family support here, and none from the groom to be, I made the decision to get the marriage license and made an appointment for September 1st, So that September 1st morning, sitting at the courthouse, my heart broke again. It was another big event in my life, and I had no family. The price we pay when we move half way across the world. So after we said our “I do” to the judge, we then headed on our 14 hour drive to Memphis. I drove all the way because my lovely husband could not drive my car (Stick-shift). 

My gorgeous aunt had invited people over for a dinner to celebrate our marriage. My in-laws, a couple of my sister and brother in laws flew in for a day. That really made my day, but I missed the most important people in my life-my parents. There was no honeymoon as we had to head back to work. There was no “giving away” of the bride, which come to think of it, still has not happened. Maybe I should have my Indian wedding someday…so my father can formally give me away.

So now as a married couple, we start a new journey, and oh boy! no one warned me about the hidden dangers of being married….hee hee!!! 

joon joon and me

September 21st

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Every year as September 21st rolls around, I find myself picturing what my kid would have looked like now. She would have been eight on the 21st.

I lost Sasha due to a miscarriage while I was visiting my parents back in India. It was my first pregnancy, and this devastated me as I was older when I got pregnant. As I sit here with a lump in my throat, which is a common occurrence around this time, I often wonder what kind of child my Sasha would have been. She would have been eight tomorrow, celebrating along with her great-grandfathers birthday.

My emotions regarding her have always been extremely private. I mourned for her alone, and I find myself crying often around this time by myself. Even though I never got to see her at all, I have this image of her-a spunky little fire-cracker. But then again, I currently have a spunky little fire-cracker of my own now. I cannot pen exactly what I feel, but anyone that has suffered a miscarriage would probably understand.

Some people find it strange that I buy a cupcake in her memory every 21st September, and they don’t understand why I don’t just move on. I have moved on, but not according to the way society thinks I should. I keep her memory alive, because the sound of that heartbeat is a life that was very dear to me. I love that I can celebrate this with my son, and he knows that Sasha was the big sister he would never have. And he also knows that she probably protected him, when I almost lost him too.

So to my little Sasha: as you celebrate your eight birthday with your great grandpa, I wanted to let you know that we love you and miss you. So till we meet…

Happy Birthday my fire-cracker!

Your Mommy.

 

The #1 Gora’s entry…and a tragedy

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So my husband is a little nervous about this particular draft, not sure why. Anyway, here goes….

So this assistant manager was moved to my office, and he barely smiled. He was what we would call a Khadoos (grumpy). I did not like him at all and thought he could at least smile once in a way. I did not get his humor. Why was it funny to laugh at the stupidest things? Maybe I was the grumpy one, who knows.

I was moved to another office and did not have to work with him anymore, yay!! But one evening I ended up climbing a curb and damaging one of my tires by the park. It was almost dark, and who do I decide to call for help-that same grumpy manager as he lived down the street. I needed someone to have their headlights on, so I could change my own tire, but he being a gentleman changed my tire. He then asked why I was stalking him? I just stared at him in disbelief and asked why the hell would I want to do that? Like I mentioned before, he has a weird sense of humor. I did not find that funny. I don’t remember how we decided to go for a movie one day, but I guess that was the start of a very interesting chapter. He was not my type, which was tall, dark and had to wear glasses, in fact he was short, white and too chikna.

We were working one morning when one of the employees came running in and said the tower fell. I looked at her and asked her what tower she was talking about. She was scared. We quickly turned on the radio in the car, the second tower was hit. What the hell had just happened? I was just there exactly a week ago and now this. I had all these thoughts running in my head-how did they not see the tower? why were they flying so low? was this an accident? I heard a scream from the office, the Pentagon was hit. We worked in the DC Metro area. Were we under attack? There was so much confusion. We continued to work as we had people waiting. Even though everyone was concerned we had a job to get done. One comment that I heard from one of the managers was “damn Muslims and their jihad”. I was completely taken aback. The next nine hours was chaos as the flood of people from D.C. came through our area as we were only 3 miles from the DC line.

We survived the 9/11 attacks, only to be in the cross-hairs of the Beltway Sniper in 2002. A lot of those shootings were extremely close to where we worked and places we visited frequently. So it was an extremely tense time, but those managers words still ring in my ears even today. What was happening to the world that I loved? So many unanswered questions. But among all this chaos happening in the world, I was beginning to accept this khadoos as mine.

After about three years, he introduced me to his family. I was extremely overwhelmed as it was a large family, and I hadn’t really been around family in years. They were sweet and extremely welcoming. I had crawled into this shell and generally did not let people into my life that easily, so I probably came off as shy or rude. There were lots of kids around and I didn’t do well with so many children at all, I still don’t. He and I talked about getting married, but I informed him that he had to speak with my parents first. For that he would have to travel overseas to my home in India. He had never left the United States, so this was going to be fun. Nothing like travelling to India on a first overseas trip. He had no idea what awaited him. All I told him was to come with no preconceived notions and an extremely open mind. The journey had begun….

The Career (America By Default)

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So the default as some of you read in my previous post was “love”. That is what brought me to America. And I stayed on, because I knew the sacrifices that were made by my parents. I really wanted to go back home, because this was not my home (as yet).

It would also be five years before I went home to see my parents and brother. They did not make it to my graduation, actually no one did. I had a few friends and that was it. I had missed them so much. I remember being told by some people that I would never be allowed to work here, and that I would never get a work visa. Luck seemed to be in my favor, because I did get to work here, and also got my work visa in Canada without any issues. Destiny was taking shape, and I guess I was meant to move here. But I was still uneasy and was looking for any opportunity to go back home. The vacation back home was a much needed one. Things had changed in India, and I actually got a culture shock when I went home. Everything was much more western since I had left, even though I had grown up in a city. But it was home and I was savoring every minute of it. But soon it was time to go back to work-gosh I had grown up and had a job now. Mom and Dad were proud that I was managing on my own, but I had never let on about how I felt internally. 

Career:

So I said goodbye to West Virginia, and moved to the Washington D.C. area. I worked 60+ hours a week, so yeah you could call me a workaholic. I actually loved my job because I got to meet people from different walks of life. The place I worked at was a good ol’ boys club and if you played the game right, you advanced. Well, I played by my set of rules, so you could say I did not advance very far. This was a completely new environment for me, new life skills were being learnt. I was even told since I did not go to enough happy hours I would never get promoted. I was okay with that because my self-respect was intact and I did not need to “advance” my career by forgetting my morals and values. I had cut off contact with all my friends and I did not have any idea what was happening in their lives(no FB as yet). When I got moved to another office, I was told we were getting this new Assistant Manager and I had heard he was very serious. So on one of my runs to his office before he moved to our location, I asked who this person was and he stood up from behind the desk, and I was hoping it would not be this person. Well it was, and soon began another chapter in my life of a love-hate relationship.

photographs: some of my best friends from high school in India, and the assistant manager who made an interesting entry at a not-so interesting time in my life. 

 

America By Default pt. 2

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Two and a half months after being settled in my University by my best friend and her hubby, I got the worst news ever that changed our world. My Abajaan (grandpa) had passed away and his words still rang in my ears…it was the last goodbye. My problem of trusting everyone was about to be tested. I left my backpack at a friends dorm room and went to an acquaintance’s home to call my mother and him. I was distraught and was not thinking right. I stayed there till I calmed down, and then got my bags and walked home in a daze.

Like I said my trust was about to be tested. In my time of grief, this person who lived in the dorms decided to go through my bag while I was making calls and took my credit card number. When I got the bill I was shocked-he had called a sex line with my credit card. I did my research on where the call originated from-it was his room. I confronted him, he denied it. I was so angry, and I decided to file a police report against him. They arrested him while he was asleep. He got out and then a few weeks later they arrested him again. So he did what most guys would do…smear my name among the Muslim students. He wanted me dead. I had some angels watching over me at the school. You all know who you are. I did not care and knew that eventually they too will find out who he really is. Took a year or so, but I got my apologies from the Muslim Students. I distanced myself from a lot of people and associated myself with the Indian students, trusted no one, except a few.

During the second year, he decided to visit. Something was different…with me, or him-I did not know. This caused a friction between my best friend and me and we stopped talking for a few years. When he left I knew it was over. I was heart-broken but learnt two valuable lessons-trust no one and love is an over-rated word. He then emailed me to let me know it was and was because of religion. Wish he had the balls to say that to my face. So why was I still in America? Because my parents had spent money to send me here and I was not going to let a guy make me disrespect them in any way. Yes, I came here because of him, he was the default in my life, but probably ended being a blessing too because it led to other adventures.

University definitely was an eye opener-a little sweet and bitter. I had no family, and no one to advise me on what I needed to do. I was trying to make sure I was getting the grades, while trying to deal with two different losses. No one told me life would be this ridiculous. So I graduated, managed to get a job too, much to my surprise. Moved to another state by myself and started a new chapter in my life-my career.

 

Goodbye India….America by Default pt. 1

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I started writing this to log my story on how I came to live in America. Somewhere between enjoying the summer vacation with my son and life I am lagging behind…and no I am not apologizing for it. So let me finish up and try and understand why I am here, or at least attempt to understand.

As the final year of college was winding down I had no clue what I wanted to do. Even though I had managed to bag a couple of job offers with two big companies, my heart was working against me. I don’t remember much about him because it was so long ago. All I knew was that I wanted to marry him. We were opposites-me the extrovert, him the introvert, I loved dancing, he did not..etc. Yet there was this mutual respect and understanding. He decided to do his MBA, and I decided to apply for my hotel management again, but this time in Cyprus. I got into College in Cyprus and left India, not knowing this was it.

Cyprus was beautiful, the people were great and the college was fun. My stay in Cyprus was short and I even managed to survive an earthquake. During one of our conversations he said he was going to migrate to Canada, and that I should consider the USA to finish my studies. He said he would finish his MBA and then we both would move to Canada, and settle down. Again, I didn’t think much of it and applied to a few universities. I got into all of them, but chose West Virginia University because I had family there, who ended up moving right before I got there.

Now everyone told me that I would never get a US visa and personally I really didn’t care if I did or not. The United States was never in my life plan and after the brief interview at the embassy he told me to come back and collect my visa. This was my final goodbye to my Abajaan(grandpa) who was in hospital. His last words still ring in my ear, “I’m never going to see you again”, and it was so true.

Said my final goodbyes to my family, friends and my country and left not knowing where my life was heading. When I left that airport and gave my best friend a hug it was like part of me got left behind with my loved ones. My parents faces and my best friends face,  along with my Abajaan’s words are still so fresh in my memory. I got to Cyprus, packed my things, said goodbye to him and moved to a new continent.

And this was the start of a new chapter or the worst decision ever in my life….

The women in my life: A small tribute

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Growing up we all are influenced by certain people in our lives who leave their mark. I come from a line of some extremely strong women and love them with all my heart.

The first of course is the one who brought me into this world (with a little help from my dad). What can I say about her? Growing up I remember this spunky woman who loved life, and was always ready for any adventure. She had an amazing childhood from what I recall. She would climb rocks, mountains, ride bikes, and was a fashionista. She was one of the first women to ride a JAVA in Bangalore. She was also trained under Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary up in the mountains of North India.

I was lucky to have her as my mother. She was selfless, and was always ready to help others, even if it meant getting hurt by them. She instilled in us certain values and morals which my brother and I have never forgotten. In midst of all their struggles, they made sure we were always loved. She has the most forgiving heart-something I don’t have. She has always been popular among her friends and the younger generation too. When I look at her now, I see someone who is still strong, who still gets up every morning, puts her make-up on and is ready to face a new day despite being slapped in the face by life. And the best part is being told that I am just like my mother. All the sacrifices she has made has not gone unnoticed by me and I hope that life treats her kindly always. 

The second most important person: My JOON JOON. One of the sweetest voices and faces that has forever been imprinted is that of my grandmother. My first encounter with her was not long after I was born. She would sing to me to put me to sleep, and that song is still very precious to me. You want strong, then you have to meet my grandmother. She is one tough woman. When she was a little girl they had to leave their home in Singapore during World War II because the Japanese were bombing them. They got to flee in a small Chinese fishing boat to India and almost did not make it because the Chinese chef wanted them gone. But I got lucky and she got to be my grandmother. As a little girl I used to look forward to my visits to see her and they were some of the best vacations. Then I got to go live with her when I was 11 and stayed till I became an adult.She has been through so much, and still continues to go through a lot, but never complains. Her faith and strong will is what keeps her going, along with the countless well wishers from around the world. For those that don’t know-I have her up on a pedestal as people like her and the other women in my life come around once in a lifetime. I am lucky and fortunate that she is still driving distance from me, even if it is only a 14 hour drive.

My aunt or rather my big sister as there is only an eight year difference between us is the third influential woman. Since I was little we got to spend a lot of time together. Being in the same school helped as she always looked out for me till I was there. We also share a love for food especially the street food of India. When she got married at 18 and went away to another country it was very different when I moved to Madras. But as luck would have it I moved to the US (by default) and she was back in my life. My holidays were spent with her and the kids and luck shone on us and my grandmother moved here too. I had both of them back in my life. Something about my aunt you should know that apart from being a strong woman, she is extremely giving and welcoming. So no matter who you are she will welcome you with open arms and make you feel comfortable which some people tend to take advantage of because we women don’t know how to say “no”. She currently is a caregiver to her mother and mother-in-law and I don’t know how she does it-not many people can do what she does, not even me. I love her and the other ladies to the moon and back.

Finally but not least, my sexy grand-aunt Lily who is no longer with us, but is always with us, if you know what I mean. She was one of the first people who came to see me after I was born. My childhood memories of spending time with her were some of the fondest. She had this aura about her which words cannot explain. She was popular with the very young because of her non-judgmental ways. We forged a connection when I was very little and it lasted till she passed away. I can still hear her sweet laugh sometimes and it brings a smile to my face. I was very fortunate to be able to visit her when she came to my part of the world. It was only an 8 hour drive, but worth it. Her loss is still felt tremendously even today.

So these four women have influenced my life tremendously. I am what I am because of my strong connections with all of them. They are the most selfless, loving, and caring individuals I have ever met and will ever meet. To me if there ever was a God, its in these women. And another thing they have in common-they are phenomenal cooks.

I love them so very much and cannot imagine my world without them.