So happy it hurts..

 Don’t know where to begin.. 

but only one word pops out over and over again in my head and it sums it all up. Nostalgia.

Nostalgia is a sentimentality for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. Nostalgia is usually triggered by something reminding an individual of an experience from the past. It is often characterized as a longing or desire to return to a former time or place.

And I couldn’t have put it better. For that was what last night was about. 

Four months ago my daughter came up to me insisting that she be allowed to go to the concert of some pop artist I had never heard of. Just a few months ago I had relented for a Billie Eilish concert.. but that was Billie Eilish.. even I knew her songs.. so that’s famous.. but this guy she now wanted to see was an unknown… after a lot of groveling, I decided to look it up cause concert tickets aren’t cheap. While scrolling through the listings another concert ad caught my eye. It said Bryan Adams was performing in Bangkok. 

Wow! I exclaimed loudly, immediately I called the other half to give him this news. My daughter lifted her head from her screen to glance at it. Who is that? Never heard of him.. ( she was giving it back to me ) 

So I went on to explain who he was and how popular his songs were in my teenage years. 

Oh, then he must be old , pat came the reply . Do you think he can still sing… what if he doesn’t sound good. I have never heard of a 63 year old rock star.

I was highly affronted. Mind you, I felt no affection for Bryan Adams. I was no fan. Yes I did like a few of his songs but that’s that. 

It just hit that if he was 63 , that made me feel ancient. But there was an emotion that I felt when I saw the poster  that didn’t go away. It stirred up something but I didn’t know what. 

I discussed it at length with VJ whether to go or not.. He felt the same.. he was no fan either. We decided to think about it later.. cut to 3 months later , we still hadn’t booked. I heard a few friends talk about going so I went back to the booking website.. still plenty tickets were available..  That put VJ off . He decided it wasn’t worth it so he was not going to go. I still had that feeling and was on the fence.. so I asked around if there were any old fogies like me who wanted to go. 

I had never been to a rock concert and wanted to tick that off my bucket list. So I decided I would go , at least I knew a few songs.

My little one wanted to know more about  the singer I was talking about.. so I decided to show him the songs which I like back then. 

I made him listen to the two songs that popped in my head, ‘Summer of 69 ‘( of course ) and ‘Everything I do’.

He gave me his stamp of approval and concluded that Bryan Adams had passed muster . I could go now and listen to the old guy sing in his old guy voice. That led me to think, maybe I should refresh his songs, because I didn’t want to look like a fool with not being able to mouth or familiarly nod. 

So three days before the concert I decided to listen to an entire playlist, ready to jump through most of the songs because I was no fan. What followed  was something else.  I knew most songs… not the words but the tunes were familiar. Then ‘Really ever loved a woman’ happened and nostalgia hit hard. My teen years right in my ears. The song I had decided my dream guy had to live up to. ‘Please forgive me’, ‘Heaven’, ‘Straight from the heart’, ‘18 till I die’ and I was transported. Why had I forgotten all this? 

It had been years having heard these songs. Now I was hooked. Looking forward to the concert.. I knew I wouldn’t have to pretend to know the songs anymore. 

All I hoped was that Bryan Adams would sing decently and not disappoint. And was I blown away.. that man hasn’t aged a day neither his voice. Growing up in the 90’s I heard him more than I saw him..  so I wasn’t a fan of the man just the songs.. I sat there in the little concert hall amongst a very decent crowd of 40 year olds, who I can safely say like me had seen the man either for the first time or after a long time and were stunned by the high octane performance. Once the concert began, there was just one age in that room - 16 or maybe 18. I finally realized what was the feeling I felt from the day I saw the poster for the concert… it was pure nostalgia.. I realized every song had a memory and an emotion and not just the crushes and heartbreaks but the college socials, the rose days. These songs being the only way to feel cool and yuppie, the purani jeans and guitar feeling. Nostalgia not about the person or the lyrics but of a time that was wrapped in an old Metallica/ Iron Maiden t shirt , jeans (not ripped) but with a wrangler patch on the right side back and fake doc martens. Time frozen in a grainy colored photograph not yet sepia but not sharp just slightly blurred.

Infact I never knew the lyrics.. there was no means to source them, unless someone had a cassette of the original album with came with a small flap under the cover that would have the lyrics. 

I only had the blank cassette mixed tape made by the electronics shop guy who recorded my list in to it.

All I knew then was when was the cue to shout out the key lyrics in these popular songs.. 

Last night felt like just that. Little did I know that that man who I had heard probably 25/30 years ago would be carrying such precious cargo with him. 

And just like that he gave me back the best days of my life.

To be or not to be …

 To be or not to be … 

One more year older and wiser.. I think a better word for wiser is more cynical. 

Three years ago when I turned the the big 4 O I had presumed that onset of the Middle Ages would automatically make me wiser, more mature and letting go of my insecurities and vanities would come easily. After all I had just turned 40  and that meant all the superficial trappings of the 30’s were over.. So to BE or not to BE would be a no brainer.. Of course I had to ‘BE’. 

Every time I googled how to BE I was told I would be a trend setter and that I could not let the world dictate terms , I had to take charge, I would empower women my age and I must go through with it. 

And I lapped it all up. I knew it would do me good. I could let go of years of monotonous ritual, anxiety and fear of let it slip. I could be in the open finally with my head held high. 

I could drag this narrative further but let me end the suspense. No no , I am not coming out of the closet or anything that dramatic. The question here is to be or not to be .. Gray! Grey haired I meant , in case you didn’t get my joke. 

After years of coloring, hiding the peekaboo roots, organic hair color, henna , mehendi and everything in between I decided to end the madness. Let me tell you something.. I am not just salt and pepper or grey streaked.. I am grey with a vengeance, like pure Snow White grey.. if that is a thing.

I scrolled through gazillions of grey haired  beauties.. much younger than me .. shattering glass ceilings everywhere. Inspired I decided to go grey.. I announced with much fanfare.. was vehemently supported by the husband and the kids.. 

1 inch down the road I got jitters and gave up.. 

I told myself I was after all just 40, it could wait .. I turned 41 and got a fresh start thanks to the lockdown.. Now I could not go to the salon anyways. So why not use this to go grey again. 

This time I lasted for a whole 6 months.. I grew out a whole 2.5 inches .. WHAT just that much! At this rate it would take me 2-3 years to achieve what I wanted.

I contemplated taking a short cut and coloring my hair grey. But reality hit hard when I was told it would take 3 rounds of beaching to strip my hair and then color what would be left of it. Not to mention the cost. 

But these 6 months were littered with constant obsession about my hair, crazy wig purchases to cover the awkward skunk phase, hair crayons, covering sprays and what not..  I was losing sleep over what was supposed to be liberating. My resolve wavered, I wanted to go dark again. 

Once again I couldn’t decide to be or not to be .. this time black.. I would be such a failure. Out of the many who gave me second looks as I passed them , some patted my back for being so brave. Many were egging me to give up because I was too young to to do this. 

I always fancied myself a rebel, was I letting myself down too? 

At the end of the day my lazy self won over. Nothing that required this much effort and sanity to keep up with was worth it. 

So I gave in and went over to the dark side. It was not that I cared what anyone thought of me. It was a completely internal struggle. And I realized I was not ready to be white for the rest of my life. I had still many colors to experiment ( only a hair color veteran would know how many shades of brown exist) 

Looks like I haven’t reached that place of zen yet.. I am not yet ready to cut strings with my hair color. And I am HAPPY where I am . I found my peace in my failed attempts. 

Now I have let the world see my insecurity and I have covered it up too.. 

The best part is I can be dark haired when I want.. let roots show every now and then because now I truly don’t care what shows. And  In here I found my true liberation! 

What egged me to write this today was that it was my birthday, I was dressed to paint the town teal ( not a fan of red) but with a streak of grey. My hand reached for that cover up stick.. once again I was faced with To Be or Not to Be.. And I decided to Be!!!  …Me 

Happy birthday to this 43 year old wiser me who can happily show her grey and be back to colored in a blink with no judgements on my self. 

Couple goals

* long post alert*
I thought a lot tonight.. whether I should make this post public or not? Will I become an outcast amongst the Uber cool people I know. Will I ever be acknowledged as one amongst you all or will you all turn your back on me?

I did the unthinkable. I acted on a whim and I had a partner in my crime. If not for his egging, I wouldn’t have gone through the whole thing I am sure.(I am trying hard to redeem myself.)

I was feeling rebellious .. the kids were ensconced in their own world.. The husband left for his weekly massage. What was I to do? Netflix beckoned and I half heartedly decided to watch a movie for I had recently overdosed on some Korean series and my brains refused another shot of over the top melodrama (and we thought Indian TV serials nailed that genre)

I wasnt thinking clearly when I flicked through the list, all I wanted was some brainless movie.. I thought why not revisit one of the cheesiest movies I had ever seen.. there are so many cause I have watched pretty much ever movie that released in the 90s.

Thankfully Netflix here doesn’t have a large Hindi movie collection. You must understand the reason I chose what I saw.. I needed help and I turned to the one person who has a wider knowledge of this genre than me. I had three options and asked his help.

As I settled back to watch his choice, not sure if I would go through the whole thing, he turned up! The massage abandoned to watch the movie. I was stunned.

We watched cringing, ridiculing, hamming along, shaking our heads in disbelief as we mouthed the dialogues like it was yesterday.
It’s been a twenty years.. I can’t believe it’s been so long. The kids came to see what the fuss was all about. After quizzing me a few times if this was actually a movie or was I watching a music channel, the younger one dozed off. The older one watched as I tried to give her some trivia as to how big a hit was this movie in our times..she snorted in disbelief and soon gave in to her dreams.

I almost gave up and thought it was time to switch off but he still wanted to go on.. it wasn’t my fault. He was keeping my interest alive by spouting off all that movie trivia, dates, awards, events off his head. How much movie trivia can a person remember? But what am I saying, I grew up with a mom who had the 60s to the 80s movie trivia at her fingertips.

The house had grown silent around us and the end was almost near when divine intervention hit the screen and Tuffy came to save the day.
#Facepalm moment#

I must confess I enjoyed watching it .. well not all of it (how much dhik tana can one listen to after all but I couldn’t help falling in love with Madhuri once again). The only side effect was that I had opened the flood gates for a volley of lame and cheesy jokes in my partner which ended only after I promised I would confess to the world that we watched Hum Aapke Hain Koun and set couple goals for the rest of you.

I survived that.. but guess what I almost had chosen? Hum saath saath hain!!! 😳

The Age of Conditions.

You know like that time comes when suddenly you realise every other month you are a bridesmaid  or that other phase when baby announcements are flying fast and thick on your timeline. Well this time it is the turning 40 - age is just a number- u r as young as you feel- aged to perfection- cake toppers you see on your timeline along with birthday bashes that are as wild as the turning 18 ones. So what is the big deal?

I am inching closer every single day to the big 4 oh too .I always thought  giving a number so much hype was a bit too much . I mean what does really happen at 40 .. it’s just another year older.. I didn’t feel any different at 30 or 20.. then why was 40 such a big deal. Why do poeple especially women make such big deal about it? Was it the impending menopause that scared everyone? Or the tellatale grey hair or  those near sighted glasses?

Why did one feel older than one felt 39 .. well how much could change in a year..

So I thought I shall document 39 and then 40 and 41 just to see if there was a puff of smoke every time and I got my wrinkles or I got an epiphany that made me older and wiser or give me a wise man halo

And so I did.. watch my 39th year closely. Well only when I remembered what I wanted to do.

But to my surprise there has been a shift. Not physical attributes as much the as mental ones.

Again the observations are mine and mine alone and mostly of me.No animals, kids, older adults were hurt in there process. It is good to put a disclaimer in this time and age of zero tolerance.

The fist thing I noticed since I turned 38 that all my peers were changing too.and in the most mundane ways.

While teenage was the age of physical maturity.. mentally we were quite stunted by simple lack of exposure. Thank god for the lack of freedom from our Indian Parents who rightfully don’t see you a day over 12 even when you are nineteen.

Twenties was the age of freedom but still lacking mental maturity (like a bull in a china shop or 5 year old left alone with a tube of cream- you know where that is coming from).. While that was the age most of us got jobs , got married and even had kids... but I think the freedom from parental control, in most cases unhinges the sanest of them  all. It is by far the best years of life one could have because for most it is the age of sex ( no i think the age of consumation describes it better- for if you are gujju you get married by the beginning of the 20's spectrum and if you are a south indian then by the far end of the same)and one'ss own money if it is just a stipend of 1500Rs a month.
Then comes the age of the realization. The thirties.
The honeymoon has worn of long ago...Sex is the last thing on the weary mother's mind and the first thing on the deprived fathers's.It is the age of the offspring that seemed like the gift of angels just a few years ago seems pretty much like devils spawn now.You wished those chubby hands and feet hadnt bamboozled you in having one more set of those.This wasnt what you had signed up for.Nobody warned you about the sheer amount of choices you have to make in this current age and time.And that to me is the biggest stress of them all.this school or that school, Ballet or gymnastics, public speaking or sport.aaargh.
well thats just one aspect of choices.
We are quite on the brink of reversing pretty much everything our parents thought was wisdom.
Now as i write i realise that our thirties couldnt be remotely relevant to my parents .Their struggles were totally different.
Realisations hit hard and some do turn their life around but then the likes of me who like to float through life just keep floating occasionally looking back and sighing and wish i had done a bit more when i had the chance. Before you launch on that u can still do it  and you are young lecture in the comments , let me say that i am only reflecting and you are lying if you havent thought of this yourself.

That brings me to the end of my tirade and the beginning of what i meant to write after digressing a whole lot.
i have noticed for the past year or so how most people refuse tea. Sound s trivial but that got me thinking. As an avid tea drinker i noticed most people my age dont say yes to that cuppa even at the holy 3pm...the tea drinkers Bhrama Muhurtam.
Similarly with alcohol.. what once in 20’s would be a chance that one would jump at against all odds of snooping parents and because the witching hour was something you had never been allowed out became a frustrated no in the 30’s because you were either feeding your new born or had school early or had no help to watch the kids or that interminable Dabba routine.
In the 40’s you still find people shying away from that second drink for a variety of reasons even though most of the above reasons were sorted.Maybe it is cooler to be seen holding a vegetable juice signifying a more mature and responsible you?

I vivdly remember how a decade ago a friend often meant  a cup of tea and 2 am friend meant a night out of drinking.Has the ephipany that accompanies turning 40 struck out the zest of youth or is it my next observation...that everone has a condition to share as soon as they near 40.

It is either the  lamest of all -acidity , a more sophisticated reflux, or the more exclusive IBS.Is it my imagination or are most people waking up to the loosies.
The next most common affliction to my age is the Planter fascitis. The fancy name for painful feet.Until a few months ago i had never heard of such a thing and then the next thing i knew i had it too...and it meant special shoes and how i was found explaining to all and sundry my choice of ugly footwear and my fancy condition had a name.
Next set of conditions would be the headaches and migraine varieties. Not to trivialise anyone’s sufferings but everyone in the forties does have one to share. A condition that seems to affect most women’s need for tea, coffee or alcohol.
Even if it is a simple one as balding giving up tea is the order of the day.
Is it that the excesses of the 20s and 30’s are turning around to haunt or  are we simply more aware of our bodies and are attempting to turn inwards beghining with the superficial layers  until we reach the innermost .. I think by that time we reach in we would be way past our 50’s into the age of acceptance and self realisation.. I have to wait to write that one out.. 
Currently I am still in the age of conditions . And all said and done I have been hit by the mysterious ephiphany too that has my precious tea cups in need of some attention and alcohol that has fast evaporated leaving behind spirits of the past.
I am not sure if this rant makes any sense to me anymore but The list of conditions are growing and so am I.

Death of the last word...

We are a dying breed, well at least in my house. 

Every generation is getting more and more civilised and is painfully distant from the little joys of walking away with the last word, cheap thrills from those small victories and leaving an opponent momentarily speechless while he works out what you just said.

The thrills of the mastery over the nuances of a vernacular language, sayings with those lasting meanings which resonate long after they have been casually flung and in most cases are grasped much later as the light dawns on the recipient that he has been 'sunaoed'.

I always heralded my grandmother as the ever victorious queen of verbal war as I never knew anyone else with such a stinging tongue who could cut you in pieces and be long gone watching you from her perch on the balcony chair as you slowly fall to pieces.

Little did I realise that my years with her had automatically imbibed in me the tongue i so feared and that all it needed was a bakra to sharpen upon.

Opportunity presented itself in the form of a hapless husband who soon titled me the mistress of 'Taana maroing'. 

But now as I watch the next gen in my household grow up I wonder how will they ever pick up this art of lightly wounding with words as they get methodically softened by the new age teachings of being forever polite , etiquettes and manners. I also realise that I am a victim of being sandpapered on the edges by education and society and can't be cruel to all and sundry unlike my mentor. I save it for my husband and to the rest I roll my eyes and give away by feelings or just continue being a silent snob.

So now I know that to show the path forward rests on me. But do I risk them being isolated from their 'pat my back and I pat yours' peers or hand over the sharpener , not to make them mean or hurtful but passing on the legacy of wit and sarcasm. Or should I just let them be as it has little appreciation in our current narrow minded intolerant world.

I sadly realise that English is certainly not going to get them the same joy of sarcasm as a vernacular language would. And here I sorely fail.

And so this legacy will bite the dust one day while I sit back and roll my eyes.

Love is...

Love is in the mundane, in the ordinary, in routines and then a few times in the extra ordinary. 

To me love is when my grandparents who were as different as night and day would nag each other about their reluctance to visit the doctor.

Or my dad who never showed a flicker of the emotion called love in his mannerisms would tell the whole world what a poor eater my mom was and how much he tries to get her to eat her meals on time or my mom who would listen to my dad's stories for millions of times without as much of an eye roll.

Love is in a night time routine with a child and eventually lying next to them in darkness listening to their gentle snores .

Love is in that routine cup of tea with your mother in law in absolute silence with nothing to talk about.

Love is cleaning your cupoboard and finding that lost earring.

Some rare times love is in being a hero to your wife when she loses her passport in a different country or your hubby going that extra mile to do your relative a favour without any prompting.

But in most cases love is quietly nestled in nooks and corners of your lives that you walk past without a second glance . Love is more often comfort  and a steady resting heart rate rather than a quickening of pulses and swooning of common sense. Love is rarely just one person but a lot many who make up your life  giving you those little chances to smile everyday.
    

Can I be myself please

It's the first day at school: very traumatic and nerve racking.. So many things to deal with. 

And I am having go through this trauma far too many times I think.. Umm yeah I am not talking about the kids..  

I wonder if it's just me or does this happen to other sane people too? Nah, it can't be just me.. We moms are a crazy bunch who love judge fellow moms all the time. 

My worries went like this:

Should I dress in my comfort clothes or will I look like a sloppy mom( or when living in south east Asia mistaken to be a nanny.. Let me rephrase- sloppy nanny, you can't believe how well most of these nannies dress up)

If I make an effort to dress up then will have to do it every day?

Should I be a extra cheery mom and say hellos to all and sundry and be one of those volunteer moms .. 

But if I do that what if the teacher thinks I will be ready to volunteer for every project and decorating session? (craft gives me nightmares) and just because I am not a working mom must I automatically like being a volunteer mom?

Should I read a book (no M&B here, that's only for the bathroom)while I wait for the kids or should I play a game on my phone (sudoku in case someone notices)

Aargh!! All this in my head and if I try talking to the dad I will get this - are you for real- look. 

What really happened :

I reached too early, in anticipation, sat down to read a trashy novel (there was no one around) on my kindle in the very peaceful and green and nearly empty school surroundings.

Did not notice anyone till the bell rang (it was a steamy book) and then scrambled to meet the kids, totally forgot all the motions I went through earlier till I came back home and opened this half written rant.

Did I fail to mention the little meltdown that happened right outside school at the sight of an ice cream truck( why does that guy wait there in clear sight) which distracted me completely and had me wishing I could put a disillusionment charm on myself and ignore the kid sprawled on the floor.

Which brings me back to the point that I might have been already judged that day and I haven't bothered about the first day nerves hence ,as I am after all The creature of comfort, pretty floozy, either lost in a read or daydreaming and have yet made no effort to schmooze any fellow parents ( my kids will curse me when they are going to be left out of play dates).. These things happen for me in in its own time.. And I hate rushing things.

I complete this post as I am sitting once again under the lovely shade occasionally lifting my head to smile at familiar faces. 

#woesofthesociallyakward