Soar on Aloki!

Seventeen years ago, I had a dream. A dream of a little girl in my home and in my heart. A happy little girl, who would fill my life with chatter and songs and laughter. I can’t explain why I had this particular dream, but it was almost like an obsession, a certain madness. And believe me, this dream wouldn’t have come true without this obsessions and my own mother's acceptance of it. (It took us two to tango!)

Many people questioned my madness. Some thought I was too old to be a mother to a young child, some other wondered why I would want to go through the stress of schooling another child, yet another family member worried about having to take care of the child if anything were to happen to me (my health had never been great).

I looked at these people and these objections incredulously. A child is a gift from the universe. Rearing a child is a privilege. How can anyone look at it as a burden or a duty? I knew fully well that joy comes hand in hand with sorrow, but that is no reason to not open the door to joy. Isn’t that why one is alive? For me, wanting to be a mother to another child was as urgent and necessary as wanting another breath.

And please, I had already done it once and loved every moment of it, so I wasn’t an ignorant fool. Err, maybe just a little bit!

Aloka came into our lives like magic. With my mother chasing my dream as hard I was, all the obstacles that seemed impossible to overcome at one time, vanished in a second. And just like that, a little baby girl in a silly bunny cap became my daughter in December 2007.

These last 17 years have been fuller of chatter and songs and dances and laughter than I could have ever imagined. I look at old pictures and videos and can’t help but notice how sassy she was (her own words) even as a little child. The way she posed for pictures, the way she acted in her tiktok videos, the way she danced to Korean songs, it was so different from anything I had ever seen. From a very young age, my little girl was her own person.

Now as a young woman, she is still doing things that surprise and delight this mother. I never tire of listening to the songs she sings in her honey-sweet voice. I look on incredulously as she picks up any new song effortlessly, making me understand what musical intelligence is. I relish the stylish food she cooks and the way she presents it. I love the way she demonstrates her love for her nani, whom she calls Corna, and for Mallika, whom she calls Minga Nani. I marvel at the way she sits quietly to listen to adults talking about serious issues. I am surprised at her deep understanding of people and her willingness to extend empathy even to people who hurt her. I enjoy seeing her dress up, always aware of the latest styles, yet careful about the appropriateness of what she wears to the occasion. And then, I smile at the way she still clutches Witchy Aunty in bed and gravitates towards candy shops just as she did as a young child.

Today, as I bid her goodbye at the examination centre where she is to take her exam, I felt my heart swelling with emotion. This dignified beautiful girl is almost ready to come out from under my wings and fly into her own world. 

Soar on Aloki! I am sure you will fly farther than I had and make this world a better place than I ever could.

Untangling

If I could doubt myself, so cruelly, so starkly, why shouldn't others be allowed to doubt me? If  I could not be kind to myself, what right do I have to expect kindness from others? If I allowed all harsh words to stick to me like venomous thorns, why should others not be allowed to push them in. 

A part of me now looks at this episode as a clear case of mental illness destroying a family and relationships within. A part of me knows this as the truth. A part of me therefore has tremendous compassion for all those who are suffering, mostly my son, but also Aloka and myself. This part of me may be incredulous that these events happened in and to my family, and makes me feel helpless and incredibly sad. But other than that, it's a fact, that's all. A painful fact, one I wish wasn't, but a fact still. 

The other part of me hears the harsh words and dies within with shame. This shame makes me restless and shaky and indecisive. I listen to myself more carefully, sometimes holding back words because they could be misinterpreted. I scrutinize my actions for signs of narcissism and manipulation, words that I never earlier associated with myself. I am deeply ashamed and defensive and self hating. 

The only way to find peace is by shutting myself down, by becoming numb, by closing doors. But after a while, shame sneaks in from tiny cracks and mocks my failed attempts at self defence. Shame turns to anger and I play and replay imagined angry monologs in which I show him a mirror to his cruelty. It is soothing, this mock reclaiming of my dignity, but only so much. 

How can I believe he is not well and then think my shame and anger are justified? These two thoughts can't stand true simultaneously.  

I truly believe this is not the way to live my life. It is absolutely wrong. Life is a precious gift and it deserves value and respect and gratitude. I have spent the last 2.5 years in a fog and when out of it, in pain. I am committed to break this cycle. I am committed to be grateful for this precious life and to give it the value and respect it deserves. And this is possible only when I am committed to looking at everyone who is suffering with unshaking compassion, regardless of any demeaning actions or words. It is going to be a process I know, but I am committed to seeing it through without forgetting or losing direction.