Soul Contracts and Birdsongs

While being chastised by my husband for not writing enough, or at all, lately, I had an epiphany. I found refuge in writing to release the teenage angst that was too much to bear and process for my adolescent heart. As luck would have it, the moments of despair increased proportionally to my age through my twenties and I wrote to survive those tumultuous years. 

Thirties however, sang a different tune. I laid the foundations of wedded bliss and was busy setting up home and hearth while the pain, though there, seemed to move to the background. For the first time in years, I started to jot down happy thoughts and my writing moved from its whiny overtones to dropping nuggets of joy and wisdom till mumma passed away. I lost the most ardent fan, editor, proofreader and critic of my writings.

After mourning my mom and applying the coping tactics of pouring every feeling I had on paper,  I lost the will to write since I felt I didn’t have anyone to read the unique combination of words I stringed anymore. When a few select friends asked me why I wasn’t publishing my blog posts, the answers would vary from, “Not feeling inspired these days.” to “I read and write so much at work that penning for the blog no longer feels like a fun thing to do.” to “Instagram reels have ruined me forever. I cannot seem to sit in front of the laptop long enough to write.” and many more low-effort non-creative banal statements.

The version of me who never lost a chance to announce her love for NCR and particularly Delhi, could have never imagined the 40-something me taking the drastic step. In my defense, the city of my childhood, teenage and even my 20s and 30s had long disappeared. I felt I had outgrown the neighbourhoods where I grew up. Driving through the wide roads of central Delhi or Greater Noida no longer brought joy. India Gate was no longer a happy place where I had spent hours trying to figure out life with my best friends and also the ice cream flavours I loved most. It was time for my love affair the capital to come to an end and since the city couldn’t care less, it was up to me to take that decision.

Well cemented into my forties, with a substantially white haired crown adorning my face, my husband and I, after months of discussions which surely increased the number of whites on my head, decided to move our roots from NCR to Nashik.

It’s been exactly 7 months since we stepped into our house in the outskirts of the Temple City. The milestones we celebrate (read as post on Instagram) include installing the first hanging plant on the porch—a dream I harboured and pestered my husband to fulfill for years!  

Living in a world taken over by AI, I find myself happiest when surrounded by nature and indulging in the most hands-on projects related to my garden and potted plants these days. To enjoy 15 minutes of creativity each day, I take on 15-20 mins water colour projects almost every evening. The outcomes though are nothing to write home about, bring me a lot of joy!  

This morning, while enjoying the birdsong that has become my favourite thing to do to begin the day, a voice in my head that sounded a lot like mumma, observed, “You have been so busy realising dreams that you’ve lost touch with penning them.” She reminded me, “Soul contracts last lifetimes and I believe that a part of you will always shine brightest while expressing yourself through the written word.”

If there is one thing my mother taught me is to listen to her always—even when she’s not around. So, while I live this life that I hadn’t even dared to dream of, where I live in a house (not an apartment), surrounded by enough flora and fauna to hold my interest for hours and enjoy my personal National Geographic-like environment, I find myself writing purely to express gratitude and a heartfelt joy of fulfilling my soul contract to write!

 

 

Be Nice!

Five years since maa breathed her last and I am often pulled back to those last days I spent with her in the hospital. Since then I have, unfortunately, witnessed one more death in the family and several others in the extended family and friend circle. I have witnessed last interactions in some cases and in others have heard the survivors who succeeded the deceased lament about how they would have behaved better had they known.

Having lost my father at a young age and not having very happy memories of my last interaction with him—he was hallucinating on my last visit to his bed in the hospital. He did not recognise me, his 15 and half years old daughter but kept calling out foar my brother who was just 5 and a half. My teenage heart could not forgive his hallucination-induced forgetfulness for the longest time. And as I grew older I spent many a days wondering what I could have done differently to make that last meeting a meaningful one for me.

As clichéd as it sounds, much later in life, I read somewhere—maybe in an SMS or email forward or a self-help book—that ensure that your goodbye/farewell is sweet because you never know if that is the last time you’ll be talking to that person. It stayed with me. To the extent that even after heart breaking fall outs with former friends/colleagues, I spent my last day in the company treating everyone and leaving heartfelt thank you notes for all of them.

I am glad that the sentiment of having meaningful goodbye stayed with me when the doctors told us that maa would not be leaving the hospital alive. Akshat and I took turns sitting by her side in the ICU. We massaged her feet and hands lightly, applied thick layers of moisturiser to her limbs as that was the only thing that gave her some relief. I made an effort to dress up smartly for my daily visits to the hospital because all my life maa had laid a lot of stress on me dressing up smartly. She would say, if you dress up smartly to meet someone, it shows them that you are giving them importance and value them. Even now, half a decade since she’s gone, I still make an effort to dress up smartly for occasions that are and people who are important to me. She loved looking at the sky and trees, so we requested the hospital staff to move the position of her bed in such a way that she spent the last days looking outside the window.   

Five years ago Akshat and I and all of my mother’s Twitter friends were trying hard to fulfil her wish to meet Shah Rukh Khan. There were online comments by strangers saying they did not understand why a 60-year-old dying woman wanted to meet SRK. How come her children were not bothered about keeping her alive and battling cancer and were instead focusing on reaching the message to SRK. I am sure offline too people, we know and love, must have wondered the same, even though they maintained decency and never asked this of me to my face.

It was a genius masterstroke by mother. And I wish more children in our shoes are as lucky. Why do I say that? Well, we spent our time trying to figure out how we could help realise her dream, her last wish, rather than sitting and crying and anticipating dooms day scenarios. She gave us a task which seemed impossible to achieve, so we put in all our energies to accomplish it. Through it all we learned that:

1.       If we set our mind to it, we could achieve anything! Even getting SRK to record a video message and then call to talk to her.

2.       We can rely on people, known and unknown. We won’t be alone even with her gone. We miss her but we are not alone.

3.       When it seems that you cannot change a situation, get busy doing something constructive.

4.       We must employ all the tactics in our arsenal if we really want something. And we will be rewarded.

5.       Being nice pays in surprising ways. She was nice to people on Twitter. Be it being nice while RTing beautiful images or sentiments, knitting sweaters for babies of her Twitter friends, sharing daily, blurry updates from her small green patch or penning a thread on why she liked people from different regions. She went viral because she was nice on Twitter. And because she was nice, everyone who interacted with her rallied to spread her last wish to the point where the story was picked up by news outlets and finally reached SRK’s team.

Even if your last interaction with your parent was not something that you are proud of or happy about it’s not too late. Be nice to your siblings, spouse, in-laws, children, help, co-workers. Even if they are in the wrong, even if you think you know better. Fight if you have to but be nice. If either one of you is staring at death, you won’t remember all the times you proved a point or won an argument. Trust me, you will regret not being nice when you had a chance.

The Psychology of Selling—My Takeaways

 I have been in the business of school textbook publishing for over 12 years now and a part of the workforce for nearly two decades. My first job, a summer affair, was as a sales executive for Times of India. The task was to accompany newspaper boys/men on their routes in the narrow lanes of Patel Nagar, Ranjit Nagar and Baljit Nagar, (areas in West Delhi with a heavy Punjabi population) knock on doors in the morning hours and convince readers to take up a combo offer of Navbharat Times (a Hindi newspaper of the Times Group) and Times of India (an English paper). In a market that was predominantly a Punjab Kesari readership, the task seemed uphill to begin with. However, within days I had found my rhythm and am proud to this day about the number of customers I had converted and the first pay-check that I had earned and the friends I had made.

After completing my graduation, I forayed into the product side of things and as recently as 2010, I joined the cult of editors! I say cult because we are whether we admit it or not. Wren and Martin and the Editorial Style Guide from University of Cambridge are our holy books, we believe that we can uplift humanity converting more and more people into grammar Nazis and our modus operandi is correcting spellings and grammar!  

Early on in my journey I chose to be a part of a sub-sect of this cult—the Digital Department. We enhance books, bring in the drama of cinema in form of animations, further the cause of correcting diction and pronunciation by providing audio support, add the element of interaction by designing games, tasks, quizzes, and thanks to high speed internet our biggest promise is access to resources anytime and anywhere!  

I have been fortunate to have worked with the senior most and best in their respective fields professionals in both the Publishing Houses that I have worked in. I seemed to have found my people in both the organisations with ease as the people I chose most to be influenced by are people who match my passion towards any project they take up and give their all in hope that it will succeed. I admit, I see very little wrong, if at all, on the product side of things and yet my brain cells are constantly working towards improving the product, the internal processes and finally the experience for the end user.

Of late, however, I have been trying to educate myself on other functions that have an equally important role in any product succeeding or failing. And the only way I know how to do that is to read and/or, these days, listen to a book. So, I picked up The Psychology of Selling by Brian Tracy—a book that I have heard many describe as the Bible of selling. The more I heard the nuances and strategies he described the more I could see how gaps can be filled. It afforded me an opportunity to retrospectively pat my back for incorporating some of those strategies in my first and only sales job. It also gave me a chance to evaluate how much more successful I would have been if I had employed these strategies consciously.

My takeaways, which can be life lessons too, about sales:

1.      Be passionate about your product. In my experience as soon as a salesperson’s tone indicates that the product lacks in any way, that’s the energy with which they talk about the product. Their body language, facial expressions and the choice of words all indicate the lack. Same holds true if a salesperson is excited about a product. Then there is no stopping them. They tend to promote the product to the product team too in their excitement.

I do understand that there is no such thing as a perfect product. However, one can train the mind to focus on the positives rather than the negatives. Remember, what you feed, grows. Tracy gives a very simple exercise to combat the negativity. List out at least 10 things you like about the product. Do this exercise for the same product for 10 days and you’ll have 100 positives in your hand to be excited about. And with your pocket full of 100 positives you become the expert of your domain and you are in a position to guide the client on why they should make the purchase and how the product will help them ease their lives.

This exercise is crucial to ensure that you are always prepared. The chances of you fumbling during your pitch will be lesser if you are proud of your product, and that pride is an outcome of your in-depth knowledge of the product.

2.      Choose who influences you. You are known by the company you keep sounds like a cliché because it is true! Choose to be surrounded by people who are positive. Be a part of conversations that talk about positives, progress, and resultant growth. This way your thoughts will focus on everything good about the others, about you, about your product and about your customer. And when you talk to someone they will bask in your positivity too. And a positive, happier mind will be better able to convince someone to spend money than a grouchy, tired-from-the-woes-of-the-world kind of person. 

Again, not everyone you meet will be positive and you cannot be the annoying person preaching good to everyone. But you are not a tree, you can move. So, remove yourself from any situation or people that come across as negative. If you can, remove yourself physically from the situation if not, cut off from the conversation and situation mentally.

3.      Know your customer. The best way to find about someone is to ask questions and listen to their replies. Be prepared with a list of questions for your customers that will help you find their key pain points. Practise the art of listening. Once the customer finishes speaking, pause, think and then reply with a follow up question (if you need to) or reply with a solution. The customer is likely to buy a product from you if they feel that they are important for you and you understand their problems. Even if you can predict someone’s train of thought it’s rude to interrupt them. The solution, even though brilliant, will lose the battle to bad manners.  

4.      Focus your energies. This works in every walk of life, whether you are purchasing groceries, planning a party or a wedding or managing your daily tasks—MAKE LISTS. Very few things in life are as satisfactory as ticking things of a to-do list. Make a list of clients you want to target. Assign them weightage based on how likely they are to make a purchase. Focus on the clients that score high on your parameters. Spreading yourself thin trying to approach everyone with the same pitch does not work because everyone’s needs are not the same. Customisation is the name of the game. Focus your energies into customising your pitch. This way the client feels that they are special for you (which they are) and that your focus is to help them above everything else.

5.      Set targets. Walking aimlessly might lead you to a great restaurant or a dingy diarrhoea-ridden shanty. But at the beginning of your journey if you decide that you want to reach the restaurant with delicious food and work towards getting there, there is a 99% chance of you having a wonderful, delicious and satisfying meal where you create happy memories with your family or friends. Same is the case with work. If you decide to say convert 10 leads by the end of the month. You know that now you need to:

    a.      Find 20 customers who are most likely to make a purchase

    b.     Zero-in on why each customer is looking to purchase by asking questions. Based on their replies/conversation categorise them into the following three

        i.     making a first time purchase,

        ii.     are not happy with the features of a similar product from another company

        iii.     are not happy with the service and sales teams of the other company

    c.      Find the key pain point that each customer wants to get rid off

    d.     Customise 20 pitches suited to each lead

    e.     Believe in yourself and your product and close the deal

By doing all this, you would have stacked the odds in your favour, and chances are you’ll achieve the target of converting 10 leads into profitable business.

6.      Invest in yourself. Remember that there is no better marketing or sales weapon in your arsenal than you. So, take care of yourself and invest in all aspects of your personality.

a.      Stay healthy and fit.

b.     Dress well.

c.      Read books.

d.     Update your skills.

e.     Interact with experts from your field. Learn what they are doing and incorporate those techniques in your operations.

f.       Keep your product knowledge up to date. And keep adding to the list of positives about your products on the daily. This will also help you reply to anyone who challenges you with any negative about your product.

g.      Find ways to stay happy. Like attracts like. If you are happy and successful you’ll attract more prosperity.

Hope some of you are inspired to pick up the book after reading this article. Please feel free to suggest some books I must read.

For Sachin!

My words fall on deaf ears. He continues to stare at the TV. Some random guy, wearing all whites, hitting a ball with a bat, holds his interest more successfully than me in my white shorts and pink gunjee. I roll my eyes so far back that I can clearly see the memory of us when we were five and he was sitting ignoring me as I pleaded for a chance on the swing. I decide to play the ace, ‘Vikrant, please fill the water bottles. Do it for Sachin.’ 

Almost as if he is helpless and ecstatic at the same time, a smile rests on his face and he leaves the couch for the first time at 11 o’clock this Sunday, with a loud sigh. I meet no resistance as he meticulously fills up all the bottles, stacks them at their anointed place and even wipes the slab clean and keeps the rag back in its designated spot. I could have a lot of complaints against him, but I could not accuse him of being a sore loser. His chore done, he hugged me from behind, nuzzled my neck gently and planted a soft kiss just above my ear, and whispered, ‘You can’t use it again for the entire day.’

Over the years, the most effective way of getting things done from Vikrant has been to tell him to do it, ‘for Sachin’. I have been using this tactic since before India won the World Cup for Sachin in 2011, or it became a popular hashtag on Twitter. I made him do the art work for my science practical this way. I also employed the same strategy to make him tell his parents that he was keen on being a filmmaker. It did not work with them but at least the matter was out in the open. ‘For Sachin’ worked when I wanted him to plant our first kiss on my lips and then later when I was ready for much more.

Our friends and family were convinced that marriage was the next step and the best thing that could happen to us. They tried to reason with him and emotionally blackmail me, or in their words cajole me. They failed miserably with him. I was an easier target. I could not resist the festivities associated with a big wedding, the shopping, the fun, and the fact that I would be at the centre stage. The promise of wonderful gifts also tilted the scales in the favour of the wedding. Conveniently, the burden of convincing Vikrant was placed on my less than slender shoulders.

I knew, I could have at the onset just said, ‘Do it for Sachin’ and the whole thing would have fallen into place. I am an adventure-loving girl, so I decided to take the difficult road. I reasoned with him. Did not work. Generally, my tears wore him down. Did not work this time around. He tends to weaken when faced with a well-orchestrated tantrum. But that failed too. Using sex as a weapon would never work. Frankly, it never even crossed my mind. That part of our relationship was sacred, never to be used for any manipulation. Historically, he used to come around as soon as I was ready to give up. My giving up also did not seem to work this time around.

Months passed. Friends and family found fresh preys to bug about marriage and settling down. Someone else was led to temptation by promises of wonderful gifts, endless shopping sprees, and never ending festivities. According to our friends and family and even us, Vikrant and Trisha were a couple who would live out their days, laughing, fighting, nagging, chilling, and travelling.

TV was the focus of our living room and on days when India was playing cricket (which was everyday if you ask me), of our lives. My nagging increased on such days and during the worst of our fights, Vikrant addressed me as Nag-eshwari. The glint in his eyes very much intact during the teasing. Generally, while Dhoni and his men led India to victory or losses, I sat on the bench below the window, a cushion supporting my back, a cushion covering the bulge of my tummy, engrossed in a good fat novel, or a thin romantic Mills and Boon. A bowl of freshly popped corn and a tumbler of cola or juice were faithful companions.  Since, I am a large hearted person I always served a fair share of popcorn and cola for Vikrant as well.

One such Sunday, after a breakfast which could fight its case to be called brunch based on the hour it was relished, we were on our coveted seats. Very unlike him, Vikrant intermittently kept calling me to see a shot that Kohli parked out of the field. I, just like the umpire kept ignoring pleas by the opposing team, ignored all of Vikrant’s calls. Just when the hero of the MB I was devouring was going to profess his love to the girl and kiss her, Vikrant towered over me. In all these years, I had never seen him look at me so earnestly. He held out his hand, the slight movement of his neck prodding me to give mine into his. At this point, I just did not have it in me to say no, even though a part of me was dying to read how the hero professed his love, how the girl melted in his arms and how their love needed no more words for the intensity to be expressed and how they communicated all their love and passion through that one time-stopping kiss.

Alas, I got to my feet. The cushions tumbling here and there. Vikrant did not give me enough time to tidy up the spot. It was as if he was on a schedule and timing was everything. I plonked myself on the sofa facing the TV, my neck nestled in the hook of his arm, the bowl of popcorn resting in cavity that my crossed legs created. His right arm enveloped my shoulders and lightly dangled over my right side, stroking my bare arm out of habit.

Suddenly, all the fans in the stadium were holding up multitude of signs, all of which read, ‘For Sachin.’ There was ‘For Sachin’ in red, blue, pink, green. You name the colour and there it was in the stadium. Even I could not control my amazement at the scene. I squealed at Vikrant in amazement. And in a swift move I saw him bending on one knee, holding out a ring for me. The ring was a princess cut diamond resting on a platinum band, exactly like the one resting on one of my Pinterest boards for years. In the backdrop, the commentator seemed to be saying we hope that Trisha says yes to Vikrant. And the stadium chanting ‘For Sachin’. 

Bewildered I looked at the TV and then at Vikrant who was looking at me as if waiting for me to comprehend it all. And hopefully soon since his knee was not used to carrying all his weight. From behind the veil of streaming tears I saw that the ring was inscribed. I almost snatched the ring from him. He thought he received his answer and was about to get up. But with the move of my forefinger I signalled him to continue sitting. At the same time, I took a closer look at the ring, it said, ‘For Sachin.’ I smiled. It was a perfect fit. I let Vikrant stand up so that he could hold me and we could have our own time-stopping kiss.

The year of the white pants.

I decided that 2019 will be the year of the white pants on the first day of January while talking to my husband and a friend I met after a very long time. The conversation that we were having was animated and entertaining to say the least. A good way to start the year, I’d say. They both had ganged up against me and were making fun of my ‘tight, white pants’ when I declared to them that ‘This was the year of the white pants’. And as if to prove my point, for the next 23 minutes, a number of women crossed our path wearing, you are right, white pants. If left to my own devices, I wouldn’t have noticed it, but the better half decided to keep a count and an eye on every passing body (men and women) who was adorning white pants.

Though said in jest, like most things that I utter, this was also a profound statement. I came to the realisation while manoeuvring through the traffic that laced the roads of central Delhi the same evening. In the many years that I have been wearing pants and over two decades that I have been choosing my own clothes, never have I ever owned or worn white pants. In the last week of December 2018, the time when I usually do a thorough revision of the year gone by, something came over me and I ordered a pair of white skinny fit jeans for myself. The usual arguments of white garments, especially the trouser variety, getting dirty easily and a magnet for stains of all kinds did not stick long enough for me to empty the cart. In fact, an inexplicable force ensured that I made one of the fastest online purchases of all times.

While braving the traffic on Tuesday evening, the statement ‘This is the year of white pants.’ kept circling the crevices of my brain. One of the many residing voices asked, ‘why?’ and I decided to write this blog post as a reply to that question.

This is the year of white pants because…

I plan to focus on me in ways I haven’t before to the best of my knowledge. During a fight (not an argument, but an out and out fight), the man of the house told me that earlier I always had found reasons/excuses to avoid exercising and taking care of myself but now I was running out of arguments that would elicit sympathy. That statement hit a nerve. It did not stop me from continuing the fight but I took that observation as a souvenir and let it ferment for almost a week. And now it’s all coming out through this post.

So, apps have been downloaded, meal plans have been made, I have already consulted a doctor and got my thyroid levels under control. Health is going to be a major point of focus this year. Thankfully, I have a personal cheerleader at home and one who sits in the US and lectures me on FaceTime and WhatsApp.

Over the last 6 months all my energies were being channelled towards buying the new house, overseeing the last leg of construction and setting up the home. It’s more or less done and now I can go back to my passions of photography, reading and baking and hobbies of gardening, art and craft and home décor.

I will take more risks in terms of the food I taste, explore new forms of music and movies, try out new creams and cosmetics and indulge in different kinds of footwear. Things, I ignored to a large extent even when nobody asked me to nor did I need to. Much to the charging of my husband, I plan to grow my hair out a bit as well and will experiment with various plats and ponytails. My Instagram timeline is going to be an interesting one for sure!

The first draft of the book, which is only one-fourth done, will be completed this year. I will ensure that it is. Also, I have been promising to blog more for the past couple of years and failing miserably. But as corny as it sounds, the New Year is a new chance to do it right!

If the decision to own and wear white pants hasn’t fazed me I don’t think anything else can.

Also, if you were wondering, the inspiration to buy tight white pants came from Jimmy Fallon and now this is my theme song!

  

Deal?

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I want to make you an offer

Which will be hard to refuse

I’ll make you a deal

To our loneliness forever heal

I’ll write you a letter,

A memory to treasure

When the pages turn yellow

And you are no longer a young fellow

You sing me a song,

Decorated in beautiful notes

A memory to write about

For when life wears me out

We will live in parts

In each other’s hearts

In letters and in song

When life seems short and days too long.

P.S: Vivek, I am glad I waited for you that morning for 20 mins, after years of waiting for you :)

Collateral Beauty

A wish to speak to Badshah Khan

Granted with the Twitterverse coming together like never before.

A desire to ruffle the handsome, young doctor’s hair

Fulfilled; with laughter all around.

A request for a better view,

Position of the bed changed.

Surrounded by her children,

Hopefully, painlessly, she breathed her last.

Friends, family mourned her passing,

Stories in their hearts, tears in their eyes, smiles on their lips.

In her final years,

She taught everyone she interacted with

How to live—love, laugh and learn.

Her last act of mothering,

Maa put a magnifying glass

On the collateral beauty around us.

Over the last two decades, Maa and I had started to believe that everything happens for a reason; everything happens for the best and everything happens only when we are ready for it. Maa passed away on 24 October 2017. Days after Diwali, saving the festival for all those who loved her—her last act of kindness towards her friends and family. 

I think I was ready to begin the process of healing, when one day I saw the thumbnail of the movie Collateral Beauty starring Will Smith on Amazon Prime Video. I proceeded to watch the movie. The movie made sense to me on many levels. My first reaction of course was that I should call Maa and tell her about it. I did the next best thing. I told Vivek about it and he watched and liked the movie as well. And I hope that Akshat will see this movie too, whenever he is ready. 

The online reviews for the movie are not that flattering. But for me, it came just at the right time with just the right message. I am celebrating more than I did normally. I am celebrating events, people and each day as they come. Almost as if I need to celebrate on her behalf as well. Over the last two months, I have drawn and painted more than I ever did before. I keep myself as busy as I can.

The fact that I read blogs of friends after years today and the fact that I am writing again today, gives me hope that the process of healing has begun.

I hope that I will be strong enough to do a yearly review this year as well, knowing very well that Maa would not be the first to like it and share it on her Facebook and Twitter timelines. 

Mumma, I really miss you!

Dearest Mumma,

A lot of people have been writing really nice things about you. Words failed me completely till now. It's after a week that I am writing to you because I need to pen these things to be able to breathe better.

It has been 7 days since you went away. Since then, 70,000 people have tweeted about you, including Shah Rukh Khan. Since then, I have spoken to 700 people who have told me in 7000 ways of how they will now see you through my smile. Since then, I have shed more than 7 million tears; sometimes to overcome the unbearable pain of facing the reality that I will never hear you again or have your hand lovingly caress my cheeks and look at me lovingly; sometimes through smiles, remembering all the goofiness we have enjoyed together and some of your solo antics.

In the course of the last 7 days, I have had panic attacks, sleepless nights and day-long sleeping sessions. I have binge-watched comic shows in an attempt to laugh without guilt. I have also sat with a Harry Potter book for hours trying to find solace. Completely out of character, I have gone on walks in an attempt to tire myself out before bedtime so that the images of your last days in the hospital would stay at bay. I have succeeded in some ways but I have a long way to go in others.

Even as I type this, I know when I share it on my blog and then the link of the post to Twitter and Facebook, yours will not be the first comment, RT, heart or like to the post. I know you won’t call me to tell me to stop crying and to assure that everything will work out for the best. I know you won’t tell me to come and meet you over the weekend and hug away all my worries. I know it all but I still hope against hope that I will get the notifications that always made me smile earlier and the phone calls that made the world better.

Friends have been calling me to check on me. But never again will I pick up the phone and say, ‘haan, mumma’ and never again will you reply, ‘haan beta’.  Vivek remembers this part of our daily video calls punctually at 8:30 pm everyday since you left.

Vivek is constantly on high alert trying his best to be strong for me. But he misses you a lot too. He has the right idea of coping with the loss though. He has decided that we will try our best to go through life thinking at each crossroad ‘what would Aruna P. Khot do in this situation’. In the last 7 days he has picked up after himself without a reminder from me. He has praised SRK thousands of times. I think he has already started implementing the new life philosophy. I hope you saw all this and smiled at us.

You know I am a crier. The frequency of tears is reducing gradually. But I can’t promise that the floodgates will close completely anytime soon.

Mumma, I really miss you!

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