The Growl and Prowl Mothers

Momzania

‘Ma’am the queue is for everyone’

‘I don’t want to talk to low class illiterate people, get your manager’

‘Maam the queue is mandatory for all kids’

‘I had spoken to the guy before you here, and told him that I am taking my son for lunch and will be back in half an hour’

‘Maam but the other kids have been standing in line for the past half an hour, they ate their food and then joined the line.’

‘My kids will stay right in front here. They will be first in the line. That is final.’

And they were, they stood in front of everybody else who had been standing and waiting decently for the past half an hour for the paleontology activity at Kidzania.

She looked at me for support, against the annoying man who was not willing to let her beloved son stand in front of all the others.

‘What kind of people they hire!’

‘Ya, I agree with you! They should hire female bouncers for Moms like you’

‘What?’

‘Nothing Maam, I just wish they could hire female bouncers for moms like you.’

‘I do not wish to speak with you.’ She banished me from her kingdom.

I patted the guard, as a mom would pat her son, the poor guy was almost in tears. Earning ones living is a tough job these days. Those who have earned, try to bring back the slave era.

Usually I would have fought tooth n nail but after all the fun, yet tiring activities at Kidzania my energy was sapped and the second selfish reason was that the activity was for 10 people and my son and his three besties would anyway be allowed in that slot as they were 7^th in the queue.

This brawl… no I don’t think I can call it a brawl, as it wasn’t two sided, this uneducated behavior from the educated mom, set me rethinking.

How much would I fall to get my son first in the line? Be it in the park, the gaming zones, classrooms, play dates…

The madness of internally wishing that your kid would come first with 99.9% or become a GM in chess at 7 years or to become Pele at 9 years…how far would I go? How and when could I be mature enough not to push my kids at the cost of other kids?

When the Headboy and Headgirl are chosen, how many of us don’t feel the pinch (Be honest guys… that you didn’t even for a second want to hear your kids name?! Its as natural as drooling at Shah Rukh Khan for me) But frankly, I have developed the skill to respect all kids, whether Achievers or Non achievers (Non achiever in the material sense, because every kid achieves the highest position in the heart of his/her mom at the time of birth, so technically there are no non achievers!)

So now I do roll up my sleeves, but against my ‘Mom Mania’ that makes me a ‘Momzilla and prevents me from  Momzania…

Just some thoughts I felt strongly about and thought I would share at this beautiful mommy platform

I need 5 benefits of the kids going on a school trip. Not for the kids, for me.

Only a day since they left. and I have been convincing myself, how peaceful it is. No school bus to catch, no fight over the porridge, no running back from the bus stop to get the home work notebook.

Wow! So peaceful, then why is the silence getting to me? The quiet deafening?

Let me seek some benefits…

Benefit 1

I can work in peace. There will no one is asking me irrelevant questions, when a con-call with the client is on, like, ‘mamma how many stars are there in the universe?’ ‘What is the meaning of ‘cynical’?

Oh! So peaceful…Then why did I snap at my client today?  Its generally the other way round, I snap at my kid for the client.

Benefit 2

My hubby and I can go for a date and a late night movie. And…and we don’t have to stand in the long line for Nachoes…

Then why did we anyway stand and buy that junk food?

Benefit 3

I can go out with my mother-in-law for a shopping spree. Without one hand tugging for ice-cream…donut…books and toys.

Then why did the Zara new collection not interest me? And I bought some Percy Jacksons instead? Strange behavior.

Benefit 4

The best one! No Doremon. No Chota bheem! Yipeee!

But…Alas! I think I slept watching the thrilling Bond movie of our times…

Benefit 5

One more! I can chat with my Mom about all the family gossip in peace, without being questioned on the details of each relative. ‘Who is this Lucknow wali mami ki chachi, mamma?’

Then why do these relatives seem so distant and irrelevant? And their life stories so uninteresting and regular?

 Still looking for benefits…any leads anyone?

The brat has over ruled all my personalities, like a creative consultant…a daughter…a wife, a daughter-in-law…he has incapacitated me for all other functions. Of course, I do them all but the only designation where I really ‘love to live’ is that of a ‘MOM’

My tryst with my looks

A posh palour. I tiptoed into it precariously. The girls whisked around and the men flexed their muscles, for once I thought I have entered the ramp of an ongoing fashion week.

‘Eye…eyebrows’, I said softly.

‘Only threading?’ Loud and hard.

‘Yes’

‘Call Sangeeta, she has appointments lined up…but she can take this, this client has ONLY eyebrows.’

I felt apologetic for wasting their time.

‘Hello Madam, what can I get you? Tea, Coffee, water?’ Sangeeta said with a smile

‘Eyebrows’, I said

I was pushed back and the pulling started. Doesn’t pain anymore as it’s been 25 years, the first time I had the courage to get only one a day, only because my friends thought I looked like that , ‘Yakku’ fellow in the long forgotten serial, ‘Chandrakanta’

‘Madam, your feet need a pedicure, so rough your feet look’.

My feet felt apologetic.

‘Ok you finish this then I will get the pedicure done.’

At the pedicure station.

‘Madam your hands really need a manicure, saath saath ho jayega…’

My feet looking like Cinderella, I jumped up to go to the counter.

My eyebrow girl came up, ‘Ma’am, I have finished with this client, your face looks so bad, so many open pores and black heads…get our gold facial.’

I thought I would end up paying in gold coins, but vanity thy name is woman.

The gold facial done, I looked pretty much the same. The Aishwarya I expected to see in the mirror didn’t come up!

I headed towards the counter when the hair stylist accosted me and commented how bad my hair looked and the streaks of white, which I always found dignified, were totally written off.

Hair done, colour done.  Now my looks should satisfy the palour girls. They did. Phew!

I had to get to the counter now.

Paid almost my half months salary, I walked out. Over lunch, my friends discovered in the bill that I had paid for the upper lip and not got it done.

Loosing 100 bucks was better than your face, hair, feet, hands being judged so harshly, so I let it go.  On insistence of my buddies said, no harm in getting it done.

So I walked in again. A totally new girl came, ‘Ma’am, your eyebrows are done so badly, the colour in the hair doesn’t suit your skin, the nail paint is bad quality…where did you get it all this done?

I rested my case.

Bully ka the End

Bully

Neha Srivastava

Parent IV C

‘This is my eraser’

‘Now it is mine’

‘Give it to me, you bully’

‘I am not a bully, not a bully; I will give you one tight slap if you call me that, you loser’.

‘Bully, bully, bully.’

Smash. Crash. Bang.

The aaa’s and oows’s to follow. The punishments, diary notes and parent meetings are the usual routine that happen as a repercussion of a fight for the humble ‘eraser’ .

When you watch it as an outsider, it seems trivial, we also smirk on the ‘hyper’ parents and the extra lenient ones, branding them as parents who don’t have time for their kids and hence the kids have become bullies and unruly.

However, branding helps only lifeless products, not humans who form our society.  A deep insight can help us eradicate this practise of bullying. If we can eradicate polio, a deadly disease, then why can’t we, as parents, stop this menace? Of course, Amitabh Bachchan is not going to come and help us with this; we need to campaign against it ourselves. We need to understand the psych and intent of bullies, before they turn into Mukesh Yadavs’ of our society.

The stereotypes target someone who has a mature level of emotional development and a bully who has the level of emotional development of a five-year-old - or less. The target will go to great lengths to avoid resorting to violence, as they have been taught by parents, teachers and society. 

Experts have stated that there is not always a clear reason why kids become bullies. Some kids will bully others simply because they think it is fun. Without an adult intervening, some kids see nothing wrong with bullying others. There are also many cases where parents set a bad example for their children which leads them to believe it is okay to be a bully, I have so often heard mother’s laughing, ‘He is very naughty! He keeps hitting everybody’. I wish they would understand how harmful it is, for their own child, to indulge in this behaviour. If they genuinely love their children they must kill the bully in them, before it kills the human inside them.

On the other hand the gentle children must know that she / he must never ignore bullying. Instead, refuse to engage and refuse to respond to the bullies' provocation. Recognise that they have a right not to be bullied, harassed, assaulted or abused. They cannot tackle bullying by themselves. No-one can, not even adults. They are dealing with a kind of criminal behaviour.

“The common mistake that bullies make is assuming that because someone is nice that he or she is weak. Those traits have nothing to do with each other. In fact, it takes considerable strength and character to be a good person” - Mary Elizabeth Williams

So are you and I making little people with mental strength or are we just creating powerful menaces for our society?

Voice

In the pandemonium of election, one voice is subdued but steady.

The voice of the citizen.

 The citizen who quietly promises, for everyday of life, not just for 5 years.

The promise solemn and straight...

I will not leave you India

Come on give me more bad roads, give me erratic power supply.

I will not leave you India.

Convert me into a criminal when I go to get a simple passport or a driving license made as a duty of any law abiding citizen.

I will not leave you India but will keep voting for a better you.

Push me to the side of the road to let some of your preferred red light people pass.

I will not leave you India.

Loot from my natural resources

I still love the Bhramaputra, I will still pray to the Ganga, be in awe of awesome Himalayas...

Mix poison in innocent government school children’s food.

I will cry for you, but not leave you.

Throw filth on my roads

But my love for my land will remain pure.

I will not leave you, but can I change you?

Can I...can you? Can we?

A mad Indian citizen called Neha Srivastava is seriously asking that question

Ooooo Licenciya Aa Aa Licenciya....

Ooooo Licenciya Aa Aa Licenciya....

Bollywood didn’t inspire me to write this piece, its the Ooooo’s and Aaaaa’s I experienced, at the licence division office that made me write it. They need to be credited for this creative outburst in a Hausfrau like me.
This is how this intriguing story began...
When I got married 15 years back, I had illusions of driving being a sport for women and a symbol of their independence. Soon these illusions were struck by the harsh reality. Drive to survive.
Driving is a mandatory skill, not a sport. Your yoga teacher would not start the class at a time that matches your husband’s office time, the tennis, swimming, chess classes of your kids also refuse to adhere to the 9 to 5 slot, not that the husband’s office timing are 9 to 5 anymore, they are more like 5 to 9 now.
The ‘picking up and dropping’ and ‘dropping and picking up’ of kids, the grocery shopping, the play dates, your coffee time with friends and of course reaching office on time, for the working women are making  women salves of a mechanical object called the car. And the car is in turn your slave, it goes through the small Himalayan mountain ranges that are all over Gurgaon and also stays sandwiched between monster SUV’s when you are at the mall and finally it is enslaved to a plastic card called the licence. Your whole life comes to stand still if your licence expires. Stand still for those, ‘jinhe desh ki phikar hai...’ Unfortunately I am one of those.
So after ransacking all my cupboards and drawers, I finally found my identity to be attached for a new Licence. A voter ID, that was simple to locate as it was used a few days back to remind us that we still have some control over the making our country a better place. Second were some bank papers and credit card bills. Enough to identify myself.
Armed with all the proof of me being myself, I walked into the mini secretariat, no, I was not shocked. I am an Indian and used to seeing people bursting out of all the places, I also make that crowd. After the long wait in the queue I reached the high and mighty lord of lords, the clerk across the table who had to verify my details. He scanned through my papers and was about to keep the file, when he noticed the biggest flaw in my character, ‘ Yeh toh Jaipur ka licence hai’, a gleam came in his eyes, like a Hyena who is about to pounce on a fawn. However morally strong the fawn is, it gets scared of a Hyena. The hound has power.  The file was flung back on my face.
This flaw of mine made me stand in innumerable lines and answering unfathomable questions. Giving up, I called an agent. Giving up my morals made me sit up at night and curse the very fact that I had to drive. In my mind I assured myself that I am giving money to a person who will stand in the queue for me, do the formalities and make the file for me. I was not paying bribe to any hyena there.
Once again I was summoned, this time, no queue, but we circled from one room to another, the agent looked like a bribe himself. Finally, it was time for me to get a photograph clicked. Hair sticking with sweat to my face, I was ready to pose. Then the hyena roared...’this licence is not on the net’. I wondered which site was I supposed to upload it? The shady agent told me that its an old licence and so its not on the net, ‘so how is it my fault, if I got a licence when there were no computers used in Government departments?’ But I guess it is a big fault. I required a ‘no dues certificate’ from the Jaipur transport office.
Once again, after I got the ‘no dues’, I stood to pose, but the Hyena giggled again, ‘I need the number of the person who made this no due.’ I called up Dad in Jaipur, who fumbled with his glasses and directory, found the persons number. ‘Yeh Hai, number,’ I gave it to the disgruntled clerk. His disappointment was evident. He threw the file and stood up to go for lunch. The fawn requested him to postpone his lunch by 2 minutes and click her photo as her kids were coming back from school and she couldn’t wait. Sai Baba blessed her this time, the photo was clicked.
Days passed into months. I forgot of the horrid experience that every law abiding ‘general category’ citizen has to go through. The conscience also allowed me to drive because my papers were legally in the right hands and under process. But what a process...it took ages.  No licence came. As I offered no money.  This was the law of the jungle.
To kill a hyena, a lion is required, so I like a Hindi film heroine I called up my dad and narrated the ordeal. The Lion called up his counterpart Lion, who in turn called up ‘so n so’...apparently the lions and the ‘so n so’s’ don’t really know how much the fawns are troubled by the Hyenas. Difficult to believe, but true in most cases, the Lions are generally matter of fact people who don’t bother too much about the Hyena’s daily routine. If told, they are ready to help.
After the roar from Jaipur, I got approximately 15 phone calls from the licence office, they located my file, requested me to come for another picture as the earlier one was not ‘clear’, so I went like a lioness, posed looking fresh and pretty for the hyena, who had converted into a race horse, as this was his Lion’s guest, who was a genuinely honest person. The licence was in my hand in flat 15 minutes.
A dull, depressive feeling came over me. What if I was not acquainted with the Lions? As an Indian citizen, I was a fawn. The licence held no validity for me now, if a spoilt government officer’s daughter goes, she gets it on a platter and if a Housewife, who is teaching village students, is doing more for the society goes, is shunted around.  Is this the country I live in? Is there a way to change this country? Does everybody require a Lion here?
I wonder if all the officers, ministers, celebrities  and their children stood in that line, could they convert the hyena into a race horse permanently. What say?


Thank you sir
Regards
Neha Srivastava
With regards,

ek tha tiger - story of the indian tiger