The Fluid Thinker

The G Word

2018-05-23T23:13:00.000+10:00

Are you guilt-ridden that you couldn’t cook five different cuisines for your family of four? Or that you weren’t 100% attentive when your toddler was babbling? Oh my god! (Janice style) Now he is going to grow up to be an attention seeking adult! Or are you guilty that you chose to relax instead of cleaning that spot under the kitchen sink that nobody really cares about? Does your parlor seat feel like an electric chair charged with high voltage guilt because you are “troubling” your husband on a weekend by leaving your sleeping baby with him? Are you guilty as charged by your toddler’s tantrums because you messed up the sugar levels in her milk? How can you not know what your child wants? Well, I am guilty of letting my sick (just a common cold (eye roll)) husband look after the house and kids while I am working on this article, right now.

Welcome to the Island of Guilt. An island surrounded by infinite salty waters formed by your tears of self-pity. On this island the spotlight is on you, the others are almost invisible errrr…. actually they are non-existent. The more you live on this island the more you grow larger like Alice in Wonderland. The “best” part of the trip is it’s a mother’s only trip! Because men are busy watching sports, sleeping or getting on with life. And didn’t you want to take a trip alone?

Guilt makes us human, guilt to the power of infinity makes us a woman. When a woman feels guilty, she holds herself responsible for the end of the world. The world as she knows it. There is no way back for her. She must drown in it, suffocate herself, and her husband if possible, and then after almost killing herself a trillion times in her head, she raises like a phoenix, well it’s a painfully slow process.

Picture this, you have had the most hectic day at work, meetings after meetings, pressure of appraisal, followed by the most maddening ride back home. If usually, the traffic was bad, today was the mother of all days, because some fool decided to get married lavishly! All you want to do when you get home is kick back and relax. But that’s the last thing you CAN do. You need to get dinner ready, help kids with their homework, sort things out for tomorrow and find your floor under the toys. Well, if you are still going to kick back, sit and relax in front of the TV, chances are you are a man. Okay, there are exceptions to the case, but I am sorry this article isn’t about them, not today at least.

So, you “freshen up” psst…like that’s even possible you are running in minus here, I know. Everybody knows but who cares you have to soldier on. You enter the one place you dread the most because here one thing leads to another and before you know it two hours have gone by, the kitchen. Hubby wants chapatti, elder one demands rice and your younger one? No comments. Actually, he prefers eating your head, because eating food is so passé especially when it is his duty to set up the floor for an obstacle race.

After toiling in the kitchen for a good one hour you come out with a simple dish, not to mention the 15 minutes you dozed off on the countertop. You applaud yourself for saving your family from junk food but instead of cheers and claps you hear groans and complaints – “This again?” “We just had this the day before!” You look around and notice your hubby eating in silence, (wise men always choose peace over food), but your children love to smack you hard with their honesty. You are not sure if you want to kick yourself for teaching them to be honest or to be proud. Tired you choose peace over snapping and shut down. It’s been an hour since you hit the bed but you can’t shut down, some programs are still running in the back of your head.

Knock, knock!
Who is there?
Guilt.
Guilt Who?
Guilty You!

And, just like that, you are on board the plane to the Island of Guilt. You land head first and your brain falls apart so now you can’t think practically or logically. Guilt shines on you from up above like the sun and you lie there absorbing all the vitamin – G. Then off you go to the Sea of Self-Pity, and as you swim you realize, you don’t want to get out. Or rather you don’t know how to get out. You hear the mermaids whisper – You are not good enough! How can you feed them the same thing twice in a week? You are their mother, they are supposed to be your priority, so what if you are tired? Did your mother ever compromise in spite of raising two extra children? Your drowning, your dying, you give up and you see the light.

Nah! That’s just the bathroom light, your guilt-free hubby just went in to relieve himself.
For men, guilt is an unheard emotion. In his head, forgot to change the baby’s diaper. No worries, the baby is still alive and pooping. Forgot to inform you that he has invited friends over. No worries, friends are family, they can help do the dishes. Forgot to dry the laundry last night, no worries will steam iron the shirt for today. You see men hardly waste time feeling guilty, especially when there is no visible or moral damage done. They just identify the issue, resolve it and get back to living life. Simple!

If it was up to your hubby that night, he would have fed them pizza and felt proud for not letting them sleep on an empty stomach, or he would have let them sleep and patted himself for giving them a good 12 hours of sleep. No matter what he did he would have been proud of himself for just being there for them, more importantly, guilt-free.

Guilt is a strong emotion. It is probably the only feeling that distinguishes us from psychopaths, rapists, murderers, molesters etc. It helps us to be responsible and empathetic towards other human beings. Feeling guilty for actions that are ethically wrong is healthy and constructive. And, very much the need of the hour. But, a mother’s guilt is relatively negligible and counter-productive. As far as your child is not deprived of love, attention, and food you don’t have to feel guilty.

It is completely acceptable if you want to prioritize your needs over your family’s at times. Sleep that extra hour, take off on a trip once in a while, splurge on yourself, make that appointment at the parlor you have been putting off, get that new dress, go for a movie you like, order that cuisine that only you like, allow your hubby to help more often (yes allow, they do a good job when you’re not breathing down their neck), let your hair loose and enjoy motherhood, guilt-free. It’s okay if you can’t cook that dish your children asked for today, you can always make it the next day or the day after that or whenever it is that you can, or even better teach them to make it for themselves. After all, guilt-free parents make independent children, and adults.

Remember it is impossible to satisfy everyone. So, don’t beat yourself over trivial things and most importantly don’t give others permission to make you feel guilty about inconsequential things. Try to look at the larger picture or at your hubby. As far as you provide the bare essentials, your little world will survive and once in a while, it is okay to take the world off your shoulders and rest it down. Even mother nature relaxes at times of need. And we are mere mothers.

However, there will be times where you will be ethically wrong, times when you will be at fault and feel guilty. Like when you are pre-occupied, stressed out and end up screaming at your little one who is nowhere in the wrong. Her eyes well up and the damage is done. You can literally hear her heart cracking. After all, we are human. Nobody is perfect and there is no such thing as perfection. It is relative, what is perfect for your toddler might seem like hogwash to you. At those times, it is okay to make a quick visit to the island. It is better to accept it, embrace it, correct it and then just let it go!

In times of guilt, I always hum this song, hope it helps you too.

Let it go, let it go,
Don't hold guilt back anymore,
Let it go, let it go,
Turn away and slam the door,
I don't care what they're going to say,
Let the storm rage on,
The guilt never bothered me anyway.

Green Celebration

2012-11-04T11:52:00.002+11:00

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 33; the thirty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Celebrations'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh! No! Not again!” cried Mother Nature in frustration.

“Please, Not another Celebration!”

Every festival brings with it some destruction,

Water, Air, Land or Noise Pollution,

Led by ignorant people without any consideration.

“Oh! No! Not again!” cried Mother Nature in frustration.

“Please, Not another Celebration!”

Rejoicing ten days of tradition,

Unaware that it is already lost to modernization,

You kill lives with every toxic immersion.

When will there be any realization,

That it’s not just the aquatic life in elimination,

So is your, sea-food eating, population.

“Oh! No! Not again!” cried Mother Nature in frustration.

“Please, Not another Celebration!”

Are you destroying the 10 headed evil incarnation?

Or is it the world’s respiration?

Sometimes I wonder, are you all really a worthy creation?

Good winning over evil is a mere assumption,

Your crackers are but smaller weapons of mass destruction,

To hurt me like this, who gave you permission?

“Oh! No! Not again!” cried Mother Nature in frustration.

“Please, Not another Celebration!”

You think brighter the colors, more the elation,

Toxins in the color are lost to attraction,

Wood and water wasted is just an addition.

So lost you are in your jubilation,

Unaware of your actions,

Haven’t you ever heard of Bio-degradation?

“Oh! No! Not again!” cried Mother Nature in frustration.

“Please, Not another Celebration!”

Festivals are a small part of the demolition,

I die a million deaths everyday because of industrialization,

Poison in the name of oversimplification.

Celebrating life is its self proclamation,

It’s nothing but a step closer to extinction,

Wake up, children, from your hallucination.

“Oh! No! Not again!” you need to cry in frustration.

“Please, Not another Celebration!”

Celebration is an inevitable part of our tradition,

Togetherness and harmony is its signification,

Forget your selfish acts of recreation.

Help me in my restoration,

Before all that is left of me is destruction,

All it takes is the right education.

“Oh! No! Not again!” let nobody cry in frustration.

“It’s time for Green Celebration!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Vipul Grover, Participation Count: 01

The DEVIL in My House

2012-11-01T16:59:00.002+11:00

Mom, Dad and I were the picture perfect family. Our small happy world was filled with little surprises, non-stop laughter, harmless madness and loads of love. But life has its uncanny mood swings, which can be worse than my Mom’s at times! And my beautiful world suffered a heartless attack when HE walked into it.One look at HIM and I knew I was looking at the DEVIL.

HE was a charmer I am telling you, from the moment HE stepped into my house; HE had my parents dancing to HIS tunes. Everything about us and our life was changing, we hardly stepped out of the house, never invited anyone home, didn't answer calls or return messages, we or rather my parents seemed to ignore the outside world. The only thing that fascinated them was HIM and HIS surreal stories.

It had been a month since HIS arrival. And I was as good as invisible to my parents. No matter how much I tried to get them out of their trance, I always failed. They just sat there with their pale, impassive faces and bloodshot eyes….the DEVIL’s eyes, staring right ahead of me, there was only an occasional blink of the eyelid but otherwise they were pretty much like the wax figurines at Madame Tussaud with lifeless frozen-in-time expressions.

The phone rang, I looked at them expecting one of them to answer it, but they didn't seem to care, they were busy with HIM. Whoever was calling was persistent, without the slightest hesitation my mom reached over and pulled out the phone’s plug, disconnecting the phone once and for all. I saw their mobile phones doing a silent dance on the dining table; they obviously were unaware, finally the desperate caller seemed to give up.

It must have been midnight, a horrifying laugh pulled me out of the dream conversation I was having with my parents. Damn! HE wouldn't let me talk to them even in my dreams. Wide awake now I thought I heard someone at the door. I braved a hesitant walk and put my ear to it. “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” whispered a voice. I froze! No matter how much I tried to ask who it was, my voice failed. I was sweating and shaking involuntarily I tried to move but I was glued to the place, my ear still stuck to the door, I had to tell my parents what was happening. As I forced my mind to help me turn the door knob, the floor rumbled, a flash of light seeped in through the gap below the door and a horrific laugh filled my ears again. My legs seemed to think before my mind and ran to the safety of my bed.

I woke up and didn't bother getting out of bed. It was a bright Sunday morning which usually had Dad and I take a walk in the park. But, Dad seemed to enjoy HIS companionship more these days. And HE would just sit there in one corner of the room waiting for Mom or Dad to join him. I just realized, I had never seen HIM out of HIS seat, never seen HIM walk, maybe HE was immobile, maybe that was HIS weakness, people had to go near HIM, HE couldn't get to them by HIMSELF. That’s it! That is what I had to do. I had to keep Mom and Dad away from HIM. There was no way HE would control them then!

I ran to find my Mom careful not to catch Dad’s or the DEVIL’s attention. Didn't find her in the kitchen, must be in the bedroom. Ran to her bedroom and found the door shut, which was quiet unusual for her, her door was always open, at least during the day. It wasn't latched, so I let myself in, almost. I stopped halfway when I saw what I saw.

There in my mother’s room stood another lady! A lady who looked like my mother sat in front of the mirror combing her hair, she was humming a song, a song I had heard HIM sing to her. Her eyes were lost in some distant dream, she had a nonchalant smile, and that is when I noticed her lips were blood red like she had sucked on blood, her eyes were swallowed in dark circles but what scared me was the color of her eyes they were GREEN! She kept her comb down and her pale hands with over grown black nails reach out for something I couldn't see. I gasped when I saw what they were; she was holding a pair of scissors. Her hair was all over her face, without any second thought she put the scissors to it and went CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! I cupped my mouth to stifle a scream and ran out. HE made my mother do this I knew it; it was all because of HIM. She loved her hair; she would never do this to herself. She was possessed!

I scampered out of the bedroom, and ran straight into his arms! “Gotcha! I was coming for you; I want you to meet someone!” Dad said. I tried my best to wriggle out but he was stronger than me. Mom came from behind and took me from him, she looked different and it scared me. I tried my best to get away from them and run to the safety of my room, but I had a sinking feeling that HE was about to get me too!

It was too late for me to run away, my Mom sat on the couch with me on her lap as Dad joined us; he took that thing they used to speak to the DEVIL and pressed it. I covered my ears and shut my eyes tight; I didn't want HIM to hypnotize me. I was not going to let HIM take over me too. I made up my mind, but what was the DEVIL up to? The room was completely silent. Did HE decide to spare me? I opened one eye, just one, to see what was happening after all. And HE caught me! HE was looking at me straight in the eye, and my other eye immediately flew open. I couldn't resist HIS power, no matter how much I tried. My jaws dropped and eyes popped out of my socket, I knew HE was hypnotizing me now. A tiny part of my mind screamed for me to block it and save myself, but most part of mind was already giving in. And that tiny part of mind eventually died.

The more I looked at the DEVIL’s eye the further I went away from reality, there in HIS eye I saw the most cheerful character sing “M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E…..It’s the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse! Come inside its fun inside”. I felt my Mom loosen her grip on me, I got off the couch and ran towards the DEVIL, I didn't want to run away now, all I wanted was for this to never stop.

Oh! By the way did I ever mention the One-eyed DEVIL’s real name? Guess not. I think my Dad said it was CV, nah wait I think it was DV, no no no TB I think…. Ah never mind, you will figure it out yourselves later, I am too busy now. Goodbye.

****************

“Guess he likes it.” said the man softly to the woman with Green eyes.

“I knew it! Nobody can resist it. Every kid loves cartoons” replied the woman.

“Hey, Are those the new contact lens???” the man asked.

“Yeah, Emerald Green. And did you notice anything else??” teased the wife.

“Of course, the fringe. Is it inspired from that character in “The New Girl”????”

The woman blushes and nods a yes

“But when? You didn’t go out, or did you?” he enquires.

“I did it myself! Just now” she replies sheepishly.

“As far as you didn’t spend any money its fine!” murmurs the man. And quickly adds “How about another Horror movie tonight?”

“I am game!”

***********

My Story of Love

2012-06-25T16:21:00.001+10:00

There are scores of love stories around the world. Yet the ones that matter are almost always lost in time, because they don’t believe in “Once upon a time”, they don’t commemorate fairy tale romances, and they surely don’t end in “Happily ever after”, simply because they never end. But they have to be told nevertheless because they help redefine the way the world looks at the simple four letter word called L-O-V-E. This is my Story of Love.

It was dark; I could hardly see a thing. All I could hear were her screams, I tried to find her but couldn’t, I tried to swim hard but was lost. Her screams were growing more terrifying, I was beginning to worry, and she had been in pain for hours now, without any respite. What if something were to happen to her? I needed her in my life, I couldn’t imagine a life without her, I was not used to a life without her, and never wanted one without her either. I kept swimming, pushing and thrashing about as fast as I could, trying to move in the direction of her voice but her voice seemed to be shifting….sometimes closer, sometimes farther, sometimes to my right, sometimes to my left…I was going mad, it felt like I was going in circles and the darkness wasn’t helping. I was starting to panic. I tired to focus all my energy into the one thing I could do – swim. I swam until, I saw a flicker of light somewhere overhead, I swam towards it with all my might and finally, just as I came out in the open her scream became excruciatingly painful. The brightness hurt my eyes, I could hardly open them and I realized something with a sinking heart, it was silent. Where was she??? I was looking at a complete stranger in front of me .I was looking for her frantically….something had happened I knew…had I lost her? I couldn’t handle the pressure anymore. I burst into tears. This was not how our love story was supposed to end, we had so much more to do….suddenly life seemed blank…I couldn’t control my tears and bawled my heart out in pain….and then from nowhere I heard her….I felt her arms around me, she was alright! I couldn’t have been more happy than ever….”Shh…baby, it’s okay, we are fine now…..it’s all over….Hush”, she whispered into my ears. I took in every word she said and believed it with all my heart coz she is all I had in this world. She is all I loved and believed in, in this whole strange world that I was about to live in.

Many years had passed since that day. I hardly remembered it now, but she never let me forget it. Every year she would mark the day and when it arrived would try to make it special, she would tell me this was day I walked into her life and it meant the world to her. It was our little bitter-sweet anniversary. Well, I really never understood what all the fuss was about. It was after all a traumatic day but I loved the attention so why bother. After all, who doesn’t like to be the center of attraction? Whatever the reason. J

The beginning of every love story is always beautiful. You are perfectly comfortable with each other. You love everything about each other. All the good things seem to glare at you as though somebody underlined them for you and the things you don’t like much don’t seem to make an appearance at all till much later in your relationship. So our story was no different. But as years went by, our lives got busy, work kept her busy, but she was never busy enough to forget me. She would come home completely drained and yet cook the most scrumptious dinner for me, she would do everything to make my life easy and she would still be all ears when I told her about my day and future. I could keep jabbering away without realizing that she had given in to exhaustion. She would wake up fresh in the morning, and even with the morning rush, make it a point to prioritize my needs before hers. Never once did she make me feel inferior, no matter how busy she was she would always make me feel important and loved. The amount of energy this woman had was awe-inspiring. But, sadly I forgot to appreciate it then.

Everybody is in the limelight at some point or the other in their life….I was about to enter mine oblivious to it. I was meeting new people, taking charge of my life, and was told I was famous, intelligent and funny. I was ecstatic. My social life was thriving. I was making new friends, pursuing new hobbies, cultivating new habits, my transition was phenomenal. She was happy to see me in the new light. We would babble on about my new endeavors for hours after she got back from work. I was thrilled and she was happy to see me that way.

Time is of essence in every relationship and we were always pressed for it. Our late-night chats rarely happened now, she would sleep as soon as she hit the bed and I would read myself to sleep. She still had her ways of making me feel important but I was so absorbed in my own life that I hardly noticed the little things she did to make me happy. And sometimes when noticed I rarely cared to appreciate it because I felt it wasn’t enough. Oblivious to the fact, I had started to take her for granted.Our conversations from non-stop chatter reduced to long questions from her and monosyllables from me. I was ignorant to the pain I was putting her through.

I knew things were changing and in my heart I always blamed her for it; never stopping to think if I could mend a few tears. Looking back now I realize that all she had done was love unconditionally and always give in to my demands….after a few initial arguments on how she is also human and had feelings, she would eventually give in and come my way. I had gotten so used to it that it was always my way or the highway. When she realized how much we were growing apart, she tried to make things better for my sake; she gave up her successful job and decided to spend more time with me.

Being the hardhearted being that I was turning into, I was more than happy to have her undivided attention all for myself. I would lose my mind if she was not there when I got back home, the thought of coming back to an empty home would drive me crazy till I traced her and made her come back soon. I was becoming this perfectionist who loved to bully her into making my world perfect for me….my food HAD to be delicious, clothes HAD to be washed on time, TV remote HAD to be always within my hands reach, Phone HAD to be only for me, my room HAD to be spotless, and she obliged with all the love and care she had in her. I shamelessly basked in her love without even thinking of something known as reciprocation.

She would complain of body ache, I would give her an Aspirin and go about my work, later never bothering to ask her if she was feeling any better. She would say she was lonely I would get her books to read, sign her into FB, but never sit down and spend time with her. She would look depressed and sad, I would tell myself “Ah….it’s just a phase, she will get over it”. Every time she needed me I would remind myself “Not now, I have “better” things to do”. Every time she opened the door, I would slam it on her face, not waiting for her to tell me what she wanted to tell.

Even through all this, she always remained by my side. She complained but never gave up on me, cried but never drowned me in her tears, walked away from me but never walked out on me. All these years, the words “I-Love-You” never came out of her mouth, but she never failed to make me feel loved. All these years I have told her a million “I-Love-You s, but never once the way she said it. She is and will always remain the epitome of unconditional love; a person who has accepted me the way I am and managed to love and embrace me with utmost dignity.

At this point in my life, I am at a place where I finally understand her essence in my life – the fact that she is the backbone of my life. I understand what all she must have sacrificed to see an innocent smile on my face, and I can’t thank her enough. I know “Thank –you” is the last thing she would expect from me, the prized trophy that I am…all she needs is my time, not an expensive watch, a shoulder to lean on, not a book or a TV to cry into, someone to share her everyday tales not FB to share what’s going on in her mind. Its time I give her, her due….but not before I thank her. This is just a mere beginning of our love story, and for a change I want to begin with a Thank You instead of an “I-LOVE-YOU”.

THANK YOU MAA, FOR EVERYTHING, FOR THIS WONDERFUL LIFE THAT YOU HAVE GIVEN ME. I LOVE YOU.

Dedicated first and foremost to my Maa, and, then too all the beautiful mothers around the world, who make this thankless job called MOTHERHOOD seem so simple. Love you all.

Together You and Me

2011-08-11T01:17:00.000+10:00

Together we,

Together you and me.

Together we were in the dark,

Together we were to embark.

Together we blinked,

Together we winked.

Together we smiled,

Together we were coiled.

Together we cried,

Together everything we tried.

Together we kicked,

Together we clicked.

Together we wriggled,

Together we giggled.

Together we dreamt,

Together time we spent,

Together we ate,

Together was our fate.

Together we were born,

To never be torn.

To all he was a SON,

The most cherished one.

To none was I a daughter,

To love, Oh why bother!

To me he was my Twin,

The only known kin.

To all I was a daughter,

The one left for slaughter.

Together we were in a womb,

Today I am alone in a dusty tomb.

Together we,

Today it’s just HE.

To Papa, With Love

2011-05-15T18:00:00.000+10:00

As you turn 60 this year,

Its time I tell you something sincere,

Things about our relationship that I truly revere.

Papa, as a loving father, over the last 27 years,

You have always made one thing clear,

Though far away, you are always near.

When I was a kid you were my favorite peer,

Listening to my rambling and joining in without a sneer,

Memories of my wonderful childhood days will always be dear.

We have had our differences along the years,

Holding back your tears,

Many times (age no bar) you have pinched my ears.

Sometimes I obeyed out of fear,

But now I see your intentions where all so clear,

All you wanted was to make a better person here.

I know I am the reason for many of your tears,

Some good and memorable, some bad I fear,

Sorry for the bad ones, a child that I am mere.

Spoilt, difficult, rebellious that I appear,

Stumbling and tumbling with aims unclear,

In my heart I know you are always near.

Your voice, in my head, I hear,

“Don’t worry; I am with you always, dear,”

And so I move on untouched by fear.

I feel your presence in life’s every sphere,

Thank you, papa, for all these wonderful years,

But now, I think it’s time we shift gear.

Time for you come back here,

Give me a chance to hold you near,

And say, “Don’t worry; I am with you always, dear,”

Please come back, Pa, we want you near,

Think not much of turning 60 this year,

It’s just a transit to start another journey from here.

Love you.