Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Lolo's Predicts her next Birthday

My girl is an everyday miracle, for from her I learn that the world is beautiful no matter how ugly people try to paint its picture; for she shows to us, the adults, the beautiful world of an innocent soul.

She reminds us that none of her friends were ever invited for her birthday celebrations (I remain corrected that she started her pre-school this Spring and the friends she wants are probably the ones she has in her class). Lolo never fails to amuse us.

"Mummy, next birthday I want my friends to be invited," Lolo stated.
"Your birthday is in January and your school will be closed. Your friends won't be around," I replied.
"I want Zumsel and Tobdhen to come," she went on.
"But how will you know where they stay?"
"Zumsel stays in Olakha...we will go to Olakha and shout out: Zumsel...Zumsel! She will hear me and come out."

For her, nothing is impossible. She lives a life unaffected by the social barriers and fallacies, such as the next door neighbour who doesn't know who lives in the other flat or that crazy side of living in the capital. 

When in mood, she sings the birthday song for herself...adds a graceful attribute to make it go with her name: "Happy Birthday, Angel Lolo." She is ever graceful that she likes to be celebrated at any given occasion - like during my nephew's last birthday where we ordered two cakes for them. She reasoned, "Ata needs company to celebrate his birthday. I will give him company."

By her next birthday, my girl will be such a big girl. She already is - with her sensibility and independence. She diligently follows her routine in the morning readying for school - get up, potty, brush, freshen up, change undergarments, wear on the track, shoes and socks, quick breakfast, and her school bag - oh, her lunch box. 

Often, I look at her and get a sad feeling that she is actually growing up. With each birthday, Lolo is taking steps closer to becoming a big big girl. And soon she will join our world of ups and downs. 

Then, even birthday celebrations will be a big a new pair of Nike shoes, or dinner with friends in a restaurant, or an expensive bag. No more balloons. No more crackers. No more glitters. 


Whatever may be the course of time, I would want Lolo to retain her incredible sense of humour and restlessness. One birthday after another, she may become big and bigger, but she will forever be Mama's little girl.

Monday, May 23, 2016

My Husband's First Daughter

Almost on a frequent basis, I am asked "if I get along with my husband's first daughter," or "if I treat her well." What do I say? I can't claim perfect of a human being, or lest a good (new) mother. Let me try telling it this way.

Lekshey and I have lived together for the past seven years; I had met her when she was barely ten years old. But she was the first person I heard about when I was introduced to KP. Our common friend who took into his heart the stake of our relation said, "Karma has a seven year old daughter. I thought you must know this."

As I put down the phone, my first thoughts were not about "who" this Karma-guy was, but about his daughter. It was obvious that should I meet him, and if at all our rendezvous materialized, I may want to play honest from the beginning itself. 

Here is what I thought: How is it possible that the daughter is with him? (Usual side of the story is the child/ern stick with the mother. Seven years? How is he taking care of her? At that time, although single, I had three kids under my care - my two nieces and nephew (who was little over one year). Hence my thought, "I have my nieces and nephew under my care even with their parents around the corner. But that girl..."

She was all smiles when I met her. Later she added, "I was so happy when I heard about you."

Lekshey's life story is little different from many stories. She stood the test of time, walked tough and came thus far. I can't say her life got any better after I took charge but we are doing fine. We sort out our differences, if any, and look ahead. As such, we haven't had our "clashing moment" so far - may be because we respect our spaces. My children are still with me - and not for a single moment have I thought/ treated her any different. She gets nothing extra, nothing less but the same treatment just like the rest. She is one of them.

I am sure people expected me to change after having a child of my mine (thanks to some gruelling stories). I suspected that, too. But no, nothing happened. In fact, Lolo is all the more blessed to have a bigger sister and calls out for her "Ana Lek-say" as a priority choice in any event. When Lolo is of the age to know the truth, we will tell her. This is to say Lekshey and I don't deny facts and truths, and this keeps us intact. 

Back to the curiosity "if I treat her well", I say, "Nothing extra, nothing less." I don't have to feign my feelings just as much as she doesn't have to do it with hers. Lekshay will be an adult soon, so her choices are right in her hands. If one day she chooses to walk out of my life, she can. But as long as we are together, we will thread on in good faith of life. There is not going to be another side of the story. I can completely trust myself to see her as a human being, worthy of living a good life, and if I can be an agent, why not?

For that reason, I never call her my step-daughter, I rather say she is my Husband's first daughter. I take no offence when someone asks about us - if that person has patience to listen, I tell him/her exactly what I have written here. To that extend, I am mentally preparing to babysit all of my children, including those from Lekshey.

Would it be fair to love the father, but not his daughter? I am only human.

And I am not sure if she is happy or not, but Lekshey certainly has a home.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Wild Thoughts about Death

With eerie thoughts running in my mind right now, especially after reading a FB post shared by a friend about losing one of her relatives, I am penning down what I exactly fear about "death".

I must have been less than six years (for I hadn't started schooling then) the first time I remember confronting death. There was this neighbour boy in the army family line where we grew up, who used to play with us. One day he fell sick and soon the news of his demise held us. I faintly remember going for his funeral rites with my mother to offer our prayers and condolences. That was it...for sometimes.

The hardest blow was when we lost our eldest brother to a fatal accident in December, 1990. His death shook the world out of us. Even as I child, I feared if I would live long enough to remember those days, alongside the fear of living with uncertainty. I have witnessed how a family struggles to ignore memories, puts on smiles of unknown and pretends to live like there is nothing different. My family, over the years, has tried to overcome any excuses of not standing firm, and when asked about that incident, we push it aside like it never happened. But deep within, the wound is still afresh, the pain is still intense and the tears ain't dried. 

All the way, the memories have helped me to prepare for the fears, while, you know, not the best preparation. At some points in my life, I wanted to pursue spiritualism and shy away from the mundane world. I was so scared of leaving the beautiful world and all the fascinations of the wonders. Some kind of craziness creeped in me.

Fast forward. I got webbed in the every day routine. Completed college, got a job, started a family and dead worried about the future of my children. In fact, to the extend of drawing a mental plan of baby-sitting my grandchildren [crazy]!


This explains (from FB)
Well, I am still thinking about death. It is there in my everyday thought, and controls the way I live. I often dream about it - and the fear is just the same, even in the dreams. I wake up to be thankful for another day. Life is going on as it is.

All I know is while I live, I live. Should I do any day, I want no scores left to be settled. I smile at the thought that I have been one happy-go-lucky all these years. Work is fantastic, family is even more fantastic and my world a beautiful globe. Except that...I will feel sad, the way I feel sad when I hear about a dead. 

To say, I am cherishing the "GAP" between birth and death.