MellowDrama

My daughter goes to learn Kathak. I wasn't very enthusiastic about the classes at the beginning. No, don't get me wrong. I am all for arts. I love dance and music myself and I always have wanted that my children should learn to do something amazing with their bodies and I think dance makes for a great starting point. Neither am I one of the few who would scoff at the cultural heritage of the country or someone who preferred the western ways more. I am a mother of two, aged 9 and 2 and when she announced she wanted to learn kathak, I just did not have it in me to take her for a weekly class, some 5 kms away from my house. My reluctance also arose from the fact that previous such endeavours (I started her on Bharatnatyam when she was 4/5). The weekly class had become a thorn in my side. She would not want to go to that class which was happening almost next door. She would cry and cry till the time I threw my hands in despair and gave up. It must have been some 8 classes spre

Amusing it is how a father is often concerned with how the child will make the ends meet while the mother has sleepless nights pondering whether the child will forever able to meet her eye in the mirror. There must be stories of role reversal. I wish I had the resources to say to my children, "Go on. Live. Don't follow the masses. See the world. Witness the miracles that exist in a day." Wo kaun se log hote hain who know what they want to make of their life. How do they know it? Where do they get the strength to do what the heart wishes for?

I am always in awe of any kind of music that I hear. To me music remains the magic paintbrush with which the child painted what he wished for. I have grown up listening to film music and very old English numbers which when I go to hunt online I don't find. I can't lay any sort of claim to classical music or instrumental music of great repute but I like to think that I do have discerning ear. But the post isn't about my musical ability or inclination. It is about what I felt today as I listened to some song being played on the TV as I was busy pushing some khichdi down my son's throat. I don't now remember whether it was a nice song or something terrible but I do remember feeling goosebumps. I realized that the seven notes were all that it took to create an array of emotions. Joy, love, horror, terror, fun, funny, childish, serious, beautiful, awful, fast paced, slow and delicious, and much much more. I also realised that the world over people have used these se

Exasperated mothers Trying mothers Mothers who have too much on their mind. Mothers who think cake counts as a meal. Mothers who worry too much. Mothers who fly away so that their kids might follow. Mothers who stay put so that that their kids might get a solid platform. Mothers who love without being ever seen or heard. Mothers who let their children know they are there and theirs. Mothers who feed. Mothers who eat. Mothers who bleed. Mothers who get readily cut up. Mothers who become fathers, storytellers, advisors and sounding boards. Mothers who never get asked for their preferences or opinions. Mothers who are teachers. Mothers who are learners. Mothers who mother and mothers who smother. Tired mothers. Fresh as  a daisy mothers Yummy mummies, sporty mummies Mummies with tummies Tummy filling mummies every girl who becomes a mother lives life on the edge of a sword always on the verge of forgetting who she is and yet not having that luxury of forgettin

What do you write when you want to write? When there are precious moments of solitude And no distractions When there is a story bubbling inside of you And the ending lures you into reading those of others When days have passed without having had a conversation Though there are plenty of subjects But there is a dearth of subjects that  matter What do you write when your memory fails And you can't recall exactly whether it was the month of June or July The 20th or the 22nd The tale of which you want to relate What do you write when you want to write About the burning desires And glorious goals Of which you have little knowledge left What do you write when there is stillness all around you But you yearn for some noise