I choose the ‘mumma’ you made me.

So recently I was scanning through your past year’s picture. And it is then I realized how you are all grown up. It doesn’t seem very long ago I googled a million pages because you had just swallowed a teeny weeny piece of a kiwi(yes people I am that crazy!) or the time when I refused to take you to this pediatrician because she didn’t smile at you, the time when I cried because you had just puked out milk.(In my defense I knew nothing about spitting up then) or when I almost tore off your daddy’s shirt  for I thought he had not effectively conveyed to my gynecologist the extreme (labor)pain I was in. That all seems a hazy memory now(literally!)

It would be two years now, two years of having you in my life. A few days back I woke up from a dream and I got all restless and just couldn’t go back to sleep for an hour. Nightmare? Not exactly! I dreamt of getting pregnant  and going into labor again. That is how scared I am of having another baby. No I am not scared of the labor pain or the responsibility that would come with it (okay that too, who am I kidding?) but I fear that I might not have an easy and wonderful kid like you. YOU my child have been a pleasure to have right from the time I conceived you.

I have heard people talk about how their baby had fought all odds and been born and therefore is a miracle baby. But I have always thought that in such cases the parents are the real heroes who have a rock solid strength to have an unfailing hope. I on the other hand, am not. And boy you understood that. And I knew you understood that from the time I saw your heart(or rather tiny you beating). I cried. And I cried every month when I saw you on screen. You have never given me a reason to worry, You had been a one push child. Yes one push and you were out and you still maintain your easygoing ways.

The haircut tells the story of your undemanding ways!

The haircut tells the story of your undemanding ways!

Even today, I feel guilty for that one moment and I know I owe you an explanation. For 32 weeks we were told that we were to have a baby girl. We weaved our life around pink. pink booties, pink mittens and pink dreams. And then just like that the Sonographer said

“He is doing fine!”

“you mean she!” I giggled still not suspecting anything but just an error of Pronoun.

” No, I mean the baby is a He, you know right?”

And just like that entered scrotum in our pinky dreams.

I cried for the unfairness of all, for the cute pink rompers I bought, for the songs i made keeping in mind a pretty little girl, for the name I had decide on. But let me put it this way, I did NOT cry because I was having you, I was crying because I was not having what I thought I would. But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, because the moment i held you, I knew I had not wanted anyone or anything more than you. You were the one I always dreamt of. You always were my dream, they just took a little detour.

The moment I had you I knew my life changed from that moment on.


I miss watching back to back episodes of my favorite sitcoms.


I miss my days of clutches,


If you know what I mean!

I miss my beauty sleep. Actually I miss any kind of sleep. Its getting much better now but there was a time I had started to resemble a zombie.

I miss trying and fitting into XS.

O XS when will you stop making me look like

O XS when will you stop making me look like belly dancer gone wrong.

But then what would i be without you?

A crazy lady with toned belly watching back to back episodes of a random show.




It was 3 pm by the time we were done with our day’s affair. We had given our serviceable exposition  to whoever passed by,  regardless of caste, creed or religion, sermonized each other on topics of higher understanding, done our quota of devouring for the day and yes dropped in for a lecture or two amidst all the stints of more significance.

As we passed through our college cafeteria  we saw a few girls having their lunch but unwilling to look away from the notes that they had collected after a long day’s labor. Show offs! I don’t remember the last time I looked into my notes. Or the last time I made notes. Or the last time I was in a place where people make notes. Do i even have any notes? But that’s not the point.You obviously don’t come to  canteen to study your notes, it’s an insult to the food Gods. Yes it is!

I remember the time when I happened to eavesdrop  overhear this conversation between two friends. One of them asking for notes from the other that she had missed, the other girl wouldn’t oblige saying that she had to study it. My my! petty mind and its games. Like study it and go for a research expedition or better still these were her only relief  from the ruthless world outside of college premises and to keep her going.This later became the butt of a joke among us friends.

yes so after we passed the canteen, on our way out of the college, we planned to eat golguppe for he stands just outside the college and the junk-bin that we were we gorged on them almost everyday. We made our exit, ready to make a pig of ourselves, our back towards the college gate facing the road ahead leading to  homes, phone booth, bunks. boy friends, bus stop, photocopy etc.

As I stuffed myself with the first golguppa waiting for my next one, this girl comes and grabs me by my arm almost killing me with a panic attack. Before I could recover from the shock, question her and lecture her on etiquette she started whispering into my ears

“Don’t move! Don’t move.”

I could guess what were to come next. “ Don’t move don’t move,  you have been kidnapped. Don’t dare utter a single word or it won’t take me long to kill you”

I was helpless. Her grip was tightening around my arms. Not to mention I was choking on my golguppa.

But the Weirdo that I am, her next words were nothing like I assumed.

OK so lets rewind a bit. Shall we?

“Don’t move,don’t move. Please help me.You see there, near the college gate, that man? He is my father.”

I turned back.Yes he looked a father from every aspect, middle-aged,face wrinkled from age and sun, worried and anxious.

“You see,” she continued,”He is waiting outside the gate expecting me to come out but i am out already.”

Now this seemed funny until the next unveiling…

“I was out with my boyfriend and he just dropped me. I thought I would have enough time to slip back in but here he is, before me. So please pretend you are my friend and we had gone out to photocopy some important notes for you.”

“Why for me? Why not for you?” I wanted to ask. But there was no time for such trivial questions. We were on a mission.

There was no way she was letting go of my arm.

“Okay” I managed.

“Papa”   her father turned at her call and drove his motorbike  towards us.

When he was around 3 meters away I asked her, “by the way whats your name?” I wanted to prepare myself in case uncle decided to cross check.

So here we were acting as Bff as she elaborated on her kindness of helping us out with her own notes.

As she sat on the motorbike, me and my Friend waved at her avidly knowing that this would be the last and only day of our ephemeral friendship with her.