Moma

 The summer vacations are on for my girls. For me, as a child, summer vacations were a trip to Cuttack to Moma's house. Moma - my maternal grandma. Our family used to make the overnight journey from Rourkela to Cuttack to spend the summer at her house. My cousins used to come down as well; they were days filled with games in the big house, eating enormous amounts of food, and totally pigging out on mangoes.

Moma was a school teacher, and some days she used to take me to her school. Because I had nothing better to do. :) I was adored by the staff, her colleagues, and her students. I sat in the staff room with other teachers and spoke about my school and teachers in Rourkela. Someone would order a chocolate for me, someone else would order an ice cream, while yet another person would get some samosas. It was pure royal treatment. She used to take me to her classrooms as well, and the children there just loved me. Moma taught the higher classes, so most of her students were older than me. The girls treated me as if a golden retriever had walked in. I was totally adored; they fought over wanting me to sit with them. Someone would give me a fancy eraser, and yet another girl would give me a little notebook. I felt utterly elated at this special treatment.

The way to Moma's school was through a bazaar. It was full of all sorts of stuff, and Moma would stop to buy some vegetables and groceries on her way back. I loved how the shopkeepers all knew her and were so respectful of her. Being a teacher, she was referred to as didi by them all. I would say that was my first impression of true woman empowerment. My Moma, a petite widow in a white saree, navigating the big bazaar, bargaining, shopping, and even deflecting big bulls (real bulls, the bazaar was full of them, and I used to be super scared of them. But Moma never flinched and would deftly manoeuvre and come out from the shops with her purchase.

She was an amazing cook and would make the most amazing fare without using onions and garlic. She was an adept storyteller as well. She used to regale us kids with stories of Akbar and Birbal and from the Panchatantra. And once we had had our fill of them, she used to tell us stories of her life. Of her time growing up in Bombay and having the most fashionable life there. She used to tell of her touring days with her father and then later with her husband, our grandpa. And of course there were stories of her life with our larger-than-life grandpa.

Moma was inspirational, fun, and feisty. She had a few properties let out and she used to handle all the tenants and their requests for upkeep alongside chasing them for payments. She single-handedly raised three independent and feisty daughters who could take on the world. She supported their careers and established them. Moma was like no one I knew from her generation; she was well-spoken in English and Hindi (which is not our native tongue), she was a working woman, and she was a lovely, loving lady.

I used to cry a whole lot leaving her home and coming back to Rourkela. We used to take a rickshaw to the bus stand, and I would look back at Moma, the small lady in a white saree, against the huge house. I used to feel sad that she would be all by herself in that house, but I also used to feel proud that she could handle it all. When we were kids, we were asked quite often if my mum had brothers because having a mama was a big deal. But we used to say no, we have Moma :)

But time works its weird hand, and even the most strong edifices crumble. As days went on, her health deteriorated. She had to leave her big house and come and stay with my mum and my aunt. She made her peace, but she was always resilient and self-reliant. It was a pity to see her become a shell of her former self. But then it was such a pleasure to see her fiery self back again. When I met her in April this year, she chastised me for not wearing a bangle in one hand (as every married woman should!). She took on K and enquired why he had undergone the pain of getting tattoos. Her brilliance was still there under the patina of age.

My Moma breathed her last on Saturday, the 25th of July. But she still lives on - in the cardigans she knitted that are still in top condition and in spite of being passed down, are still wearable. In the independent stubborn streak her daughters have. In my own Chiyaa's unruly black shock of hair, which is the exact replica of Moma's. She will live in my thoughts as the true champion of women's power, where a lot just talk the talk. She will live in my memories as the one who gave those wonderful summer vacations. She will live on as the one and only Moma!

We have kick off

We have moved into the Summer Holidays. This year feels so different from last year. Last year I was facing redundancy and was on the lookout for a new job. By God's grace I had landed upon one and was about to accept it when some issues caused me to restart my hunt and I ended up in my current role. It is going to be a year in this job and it has been the most exciting and unique experience. This year is also unique in the fact that are no grandparents to be around and add to the life and joy of the days. We have always had K or my parents through the summer months. But this year without any of them, it will be different.

Pumpki's holidays started from Monday. She had a nice relaxed time just lazing around. She was a bit clueless without her sister, but was also determined to not do anything constructive and literally stare into space than be productive. We let her be because as she claimed it was a break finally after all the days of work. K did take her for cycling rounds in the neighbourhood and it was an amazing fun time for her.

Once Chiyaa's holidays started on Wednesday, it was the real deal. The alarms were promptly turned off. The wake up time pushed back. The girls slept like babies till 11am. But then lacking a proper motive and anything motivating, we can become restless and annoyed. And I could see that happening with Pumpki. Since it was day3, she was getting to the point of being bored. That's when I penned some mandatory activities which included reading, exercising, practising their instrument and generally tidying up their room. This was met with huuuuugeeeeee protest. And the protest was met with just as repressive telling off. There were lectures dished out by K and me. There was the air of resentment but I think eventually they saw the point. By evening as we were watching a documentary on TV, they realised the point of the diatribe. Peace was established, it was decided to follow a routine from next day.

Today, the girls have been cleaning their room. They have been playing with each other. They have been generally productive and peaceful and relaxed. Week 1 day 4, all seems calm on the front :)

Upcoming holidays

 The summer holidays are upon us again. In a week, the girls will finish their current year group and settle down for six weeks of relaxation. The last week at school has been madness, to say the least. Chiyaa has three days of summer school in a maths-focused school. She gets to be there and visit the city university and make a trip to a maths museum and activity centre. It is a huge opportunity. But it is also a whole lot of things to keep tabs on. Have to be mindful of what she's doing when, any changes in pick-up, selecting her meals on the days out, to name a few. She has one day of acting in a play by Shakespeare. She needs to be dropped in early and picked up late on the day. We made all the arrangements but in the midst forgot to buy tickets for the show itself. Got that sorted and now even we are all ready for the show!

These are secondary school challenges; primary is mayhem on another level. Last week, day one, Pumpki has a trip to a local bookstore as part of her school book club, then a ukulele performance in the afternoon, and I have to remember she's going to go in non-uniform to celebrate 400 years of the city.  Tuesday, it's tug of war, hence PE kit. Wednesday, it's water fight in PE kit and a change of clothes. Thursday, non-uniform again and board games day, so send her with games. And phew, Friday is one normal day!

All this with work and the heatwave has kept us on our toes. But the pang is the absence of parents. For the past three years, my parents were here. They added a degree of calm, love, joy, and happiness, which seems to be missing. It all seems boring without them.  There is an undercurrent of something not quite fulfilled. Looking forward to the  bittersweet six weeks 🥹

Gratitude

 Summer has officially started and all I can do is count my blessings.

* for the challenging work that keeps me busy

* for the stage I am in life where my kids are quite independent. I don't have to be the mom who is managing to be a developer. I am     finally a developer who is also a mom.

* for having a roof over my head and meals on the table while so many people are struggling with job searches, cost of living crisis and wars

* for having the love and affection of friends and family who genuinely care for me

* for having the time, the capability and the opportunity to exercise and indulge in hobbies

* for the ability to be able to engage in volunteering and charity and many of them with the kids

* for the health and wellness of the people I care about

Sweet nothings

 Another term holiday comes to an end tomorrow. It has definitely put me back in the groove after the unmatchable April trip to India. 

It was a public holiday on Monday, which means all of us were at home. It was a lucky hot day as well. We enjoyed the heat with some homemade food and the traditional pakhala, which is the ultimate must-have for every Odia. When I went to bed that night, I was filled with a lovely satiated feeling. It was the feeling of finding immense joy in the simplest of things. 

I have been toying with the idea of planting vegetables this year. I started them as they prescribe, first with seedlings in the house and then transferring them outside. It has been labourious and a proper test of my patience. But there is a small degree of thrill in it as well. A part of me is enjoying the small plants slowly finding their footing. While there is another part of me who is very anxious and wants to see the result soon. But it is definitely a very exciting journey. Keeping my fingers crossed every step of the way.

The girls had their holiday, and as always, it was super awesome to wake up late. I know it's a small pleasure, but I am not saying no to it. It always reminds me of the days when they were easy-going younger and I had to wake up super early to look after them. I was so used to missing having a lazy weekend. But it has been fabulous now that they are older and can look after themselves. Just affirms my belief that everything gets easier with time.

Work has been super manic. The challenges are very fulfilling but tiring. Can't have it all, I guess. But with the slow passage of time, I have only to thank God.

Waiting

 It has been over a month since our return from India. It has taken long to get used to the routine back here. I kept looking for ways to distract myself. But some things are healed by time. It took weeks of routine and IPL  to finally get into the flow. 

But the flow doesn't come without interruptions. My sister was informed of redundancy cycle in her organisation. This threw a lot of plans into jeopardy. We have so much of our future tied up to how things are in the present. We plan holidays and meet ups and events and so much more. Things are in a tizz for quite a while because of these developments. But then as usual time has lent its healing patch. Through the stages, we all finally reached acceptance. We are lucky to have the ability and the aspiration to go ahead. And go ahead we shall. As we wait for the results of the discussions to come forth, we try our best to continue as normal.

With this news in the background came her 40th birthday. Some people herald the age quietly some with a lot of fanfare. For her it was the former. The passage of time gives maturity to relish things without making a hue and cry of it. And that's exactly what we did. We made cake at home, we crafted gifts at home and we went for a quiet lunch. 

On my work side, I had a good rapport and camaraderie with a team mate. And I got the news of his leaving the organisation. I was quite sad because I do not share the same informal equation with anyone else. The current team is quite big and most of the people have been here too long. So much so they forget to make a new person feel at ease. In the midst of this there was this one team member who was always there answering my questions and being ever so patient. With him moving away there will be a huge lacuna in my work life. I have to put on a brave front and bear through the tough project. Again time will come with its healing salve and make everything ok. With my current colleague moving out, I have plans to catch up some old colleagues, because the few I have have been quite supportive for a long time. 

Things move on and time pacifies, time sorts, time heals and time helps. 

Its taking a while

 Its been over a week, still the weirdness hasn't gone. We have been through a week of school and work. We have done the usual additional activities over the weekends. We are planning walks over the upcoming sunny days. There is a placid flow of routine. The IPL season has added some excitement to the evenings. The mowing of lawn, the garden benches being out, the clothes being put out for drying - all these activities are something that fill us with joy. We look forward to enjoying the spring and the lengthening of days there of. But this year it seems a bit listless and filled with nothing. It seems a bit empty and mechanical. I am not sure if it is just the hangover of a lovely time in India. Or it is the absence of my parents who have been around for the past 3 years over spring-summer to make the days more fulfilling. Sitting on the outset of the bright months, I am filled with a sense of dread as if autumn was approaching. There seems to be nothing to look forward to. Even booking a trip or planning something seems meaningless. I still look at the time in India and think of my parents, what they would be up to. How the roads would be glistening in the harsh sun and our home would be a little, cool, welcoming shelter. A piece of my heart is still there and it is going to take a while for it to get together.