Pinku-Enchanted Life

The perks of being a senior is being able to Boss around and get people to do the things you want them to. For the past month I have had three starry eye interns working in the team. Good kids with some smart ideas. It has meant a lot of lively chatter in office, squeals at lunch time and not to mention the entire male workforce looking smart, talking smart and working smart all in an effort to impress the youngsters. Two of the kids finished their internship and were getting back to college and since all of them have been curious about Aarini and Buttercup I thought it would be nice to have them all over at my place. The bunch arrived diligently on Sunday afternoon bearing very pretty gifts for me and Aarini. And I like the true Boss told them that they have to eat a pure Bengali lunch and no one can pass over anything. Everything on the plate has to be finished only then the next course would be served. (Told you there are perks of being the Boss) The bunch consisted of: Suman - fro...

Life they said would change a lot after I became a mom. They said priorities would change. So I thought I should chronicle the change and sat down to write this post. And came upon a surprising revelation – my life hasn’t changed at all . Apart from being happier I don’t find any change in me (we will carefully not mention the extra inches around the waist here, life after all is much more than body shape, isn’t it? ISN’T IT? ). Now what therefore needs to be investigated is : "How come my life hasn't changed at all?" The reasons I found were primarily these: Aarini – she is a happy child (touchwood), doesn’t behave in a cranky fashion, sleeps through the night, cries lustily when hungry but stops the moment food (actually drink) is provided, chatters nonstop while awake – like dad she is a good story teller. And is a sweetheart in a crowd – whether a party scenario or mall – stays playful and curious but never cries. Love you baby. Mom – that’s my Mom. She is...

All of us have heard the story of the Phoenix at some time or the other. Some of us would have also heard about the Thorn Bird as well. Both stories run parallel about a small bird willingly sacrificing life, either through fire or the piercing of the heart with a thorn kills itself, to be reborn again. All this to me was a myth till seven days ago. A pretty story to be smiled at and a foolish bird to be pitied for its need for a largely unnecessary even if heroic sacrifice and pain endurance. This was seven days ago and then all of it came true for me. My Miracle Maker or in other words the baby I was carrying in my womb was due around the end of February. And on the 23 rd during a scheduled visit to the doctor I was advised to get admitted to the hospital the same day. The doc felt it would be judicious to not wait anymore for a natural birth and go in for an induced labour. I got admitted the that very night, was strapped to a Nuchal Stress Test machine which could on one han...

and here is what the co-creator has to say about it!

Tying up loose ends, signing off from work, hobbies, habits I am feverishly preparing for your arrival Aching all night, sitting up counting my joints and days left alternatively I am wondering what holding you for the first time will be like I review my life, the way it has been till now Mad, wild, unthinking, defiant Instinctively now I move towards planning, being responsible My body, the repository of so much pride and pleasure is changing in ways I have never known it to Not fitting into my favourite clothes, bring a smile How strange is that? I wonder at the wonder of it all I wish to record every tiny movement Every sign of your presence in my life, inside me It all feels so novel, till I look around me and see the teeming millions realizing how common all this must be how often felt and seen Yet for me Miracle maker you don't cease to amaze and I await thee!

Touching heart strings then you only touch raw nerves now I think I do the same Glancing behind us I see a dense but beautiful jungle looking ahead all I see is rocky wilderness Am unable to go on, but go on I must not for myself, not even for you but for that third someone Someone, I thought would be the symbol of our shared love and passion but I fear will only bear the burden of our bitterness and battles Battles that I cannot fight and you must cause I am the only person you can hit out at only person who is close enough to hear the curses, the bitterness, feel you moving away while I grope in the darkness for another ounce of strength, fortitude, patience. Love.