Coke Studio, Miss Marvel & my Dad. Who knew.

It’s no surprise that I love music. If you know me well, you’ll know my playlists go from R&B and rock to country, metal, Swahili, desi, pop and more.

I believed it was something that just happened over time. We listened to a lot of country music at home and while my tastes changed as I got older, my appreciation for beats, lyrics, voices, harmonies, soul, rhythm, bass – it all just got stronger.

Then the other day over dinner, we watched an episode of the awesomeness also known as Miss Marvel.

The end credits played and as I absent-mindedly moved to the kitchen, I heard a voice singing that my heart recognized. And such was the stirring soulfulness of the song that not only did I recognize it, but it hit me with a train of emotion.

I was a kid again, sitting with Dad as he made me listen to a woman singing on our cassette player. He told how talented she was and to listen to how she used her voice like an instrument. I wasn’t so sure I liked it, but I listened anyway. And eventually, I heard what he wanted me to hear. As I got older, I appreciated the magic that is the voice of Abida Parveen.

It wasn’t just an introduction to music I had yet to appreciate.

It was a lesson in acceptance of cultures I didn’t necessarily understand, but were beautiful nonetheless. It was a reminder that India and Pakistan, at the heart of it all, weren’t that different.  In fact, our differences made us stronger. It was a gentle window into how my Dad viewed the world then and how he chooses to view it now as well. That memory was a gentle nudge towards a journey I still travel today. 

Coke Studio. Miss Marvel. My Dad. All in their own way, appreciating and understanding the same things.

It's taken me a long time to realise my love for world music started with Dad all those years ago. I will be forever grateful. 

As for the song that started it all...here you go. 

With all my heart, I love you.

As a mother, I can tell you the world has a lot of opinions on what it means to be a good one. 

Books, social content, support groups, videos – the list is endless. All you have to do is ask for help and a village of women will emerge to raise you up and help you, at every step of the way. 

But I’ve learned that this doesn’t really exist for fathers. 

I mean sure, they can search. Google will show them stuff. But is it fair to say they’re awarded the same kind of support mothers are? Probably not. Are expectations of them any less, especially now? Definitely not. Do they need help? Umm, yes, ALWAYS. 

But I’m not writing about the fact that they need to be congratulated for being dads. Or be commended for ‘doing a good job’.  But I will write about what I understand and what I know to be true. 

The two fathers I know who continue to fill my heart with pride. 

They’ve both had to battle their own demons. I’ve seen them sink into darkness and I’ve watched them pull themselves back into the light. Yes of course they had help, but they knew they needed it. They asked for it. They accepted it. There was never any shame in any of it and for that, I am proud. 

I have watched them succeed and shine. Work hard and achieve. Literally, climb mountains and overcome what everyone else might have thought to be impossible. 

They have hearts of lions and spirits of imps. Equal parts mischief and mystery. To them, respect matters. Loyalty does too. Friendship is important. Love even more so. 

The first sets the bar high, very high. The second meets the mark each and every time. 

Being a girl dad is a little harder, I think. It forces you to open up a space of mind that you didn’t know existed. To think what pride, shame, joy and pain feels like to your little girl and then find a way to talk to her about it. Show her how to overcome it. And help her navigate through what she needs to go through alone. You show her how much she can be loved by loving her mother that way. You stop yourself from catching her when she falls, but you help her stand up and try again. You teach her that she is just as good as any boy, no matter what the world tells her. 

You tell the world at your 25th wedding anniversary, that your daughter has not only been your daughter, she has been your son too. I was overwhelmed, I remember. He never needed to say it, but when he did, my heart soared. He politely told the world to screw themselves, daughters were just as good, if not better, than sons, thank you very much. All those years ago, that voice speaking that truth, mattered.  

Fast forward to today. A young dad watches silently as his eight-year-old is the only girl to play cricket with a bunch of boys after school. Her stance, bowling action, release – everything he’s taught her. He watches her defend herself fiercely and earn the respect she deserves. He looks at me with a different kind of excitement and pride on his face – “Did you see that?!” 

It is hard to explain what it’s like to love a father. But every year and every day, I try a little harder. 

With all my heart, I love you both. For always.

Why your voice and what you say, matters.

I was recently asked why I was suddenly so vocal about my opinions - political and otherwise. 

On the ‘Free Palestine’ cause, the state of affairs in India, Islamophobia, Women’s Rights and the rights of the LGBTQ+ community, amongst others. 

Perhaps my answer came too soon. Perhaps I should have thought a little more and minded my words. But I didn’t. Because I have thought long and hard about so much of this, for a while now. 

My answer was ready, because these are lessons we try to teach our eight year old every day. 

If we can change something, anything, that is wrong in the world by speaking up about it, then that is what we must do. 

People deserve to be treated with love, respect and dignity. 

You respect their homes. 

You respect their lives. 

You respect their choices. 

Kindness matters. 

We don’t get to take privilege for granted just because of where we were born - geographically, historically or religiously. 

We don’t get to judge what we don’t understand. 

We don’t get to hurt people who seem different. 

We recognize our opportunity to help those who need it. To defend those who are worn. To support those who are tired and raise our voices for some sort of greater good. 

I would like to think that in some way or other, we all fight for something.  We stand for something. We want to affect change and make the world better. 

I’ve learnt that the minute you empathize with someone who is suffering - it changes everything. 

I have Palestinian friends who mean the world to me. I feel their anguish and I stand by their hope and passion to build a better tomorrow. 

I am Indian. I share the despair that hit my country with the second wave of COVID-19. The despair that hit my own home. And I am proud of the youth who reached out to help the elderly. Unknowns helped by unknowns. Voices that spoke out against false leaders. 

Throughout my life, some of my closest friends have been Muslim. I love them dearly. 

My husband’s name is Muhammad and my daughter’s last name is Hussain. I see the many, many ugly faces of judgement and violence that reveal themselves on both sides of this battle. And no matter the religion that is in focus, the misdirected persecution of those who follow it, will ALWAYS be wrong. 

I have many friends who have come out over the years. I sense that anxiety. I have watched depression take over. I have seen families torn apart by a lack of acceptance. A fear of society. An absolute hatred towards something so misunderstood. 

As a woman, I can tell you that the hurdles we still face every day, are hard to explain. But if you open your eyes to really see, it’s all glaringly obvious. Some of us handle it better than others. So we must help those of us who don’t. 

And so, I stand with them all. Always. 

Because if we don’t stand together and if we don’t stand for what is right, then we stand for nothing. 

As a human being, it’s hard to process, let alone fight for. And as a parent I find that to be true a 1000 times over. How do you explain something so hard to understand, to a mind so confused about what’s happening and a soul that’s still developing a sense of right and wrong? 

And yet, that is precisely why we must. 

So that tomorrow is better. 

Tomorrow will look beyond colour, caste, religion and race. Tomorrow will not destroy itself for wars passed down through history books. Tomorrow will be kind and compassionate. Tomorrow will not do the unimaginable that is being done today. 

Tomorrow, the fact that we stood for something today, will matter. 

Till later. 

Where do you look for inspiration?

People say it’s everywhere. But I find this to be oft untrue.

Inspiration doesn’t apply to just the creatives of the world.
To the contrary, it applies to the world in general.

The conviction to find a raison d'être, to face the day, to make it count. To strive, to succeed and sometimes, to struggle. To be the best version of yourself you can possibly be and give your day, the tribute it deserves. 

There are days when I cannot find inspiration, no matter how hard I try. 
These are times I am tired – often physically, sometimes emotionally. When I have spent my day ticking all sorts of boxes on a never-ending list of must-do’s, try-to-do’s and oh-crap-how-did-I-forget-to-do’s.
When I try to be everything to everyone but I fall short. When the light in my corner shines rather dimly and I run out of hope in the goodness of anything. When I no longer believe that the world is as perfect as I hope it to be.

On these days, I find nothing.
Nothing but silence. Emptiness. Disappointment. Darkness.

Then there are other days.
Where happiness literally hits you in the face and you can’t get an old radio jingle out of your head. Peanut butter blueberry sandwiches for breakfast and hidden minutes of random reading. Memories are made by the dozen and every second of tomorrow holds promise by the truckloads.

But what changed, between these dismal days and the happy ones? The ‘everywhere’ that I was supposed to find inspiration in, stayed the same.
But me…I changed.

It is the hardest thing, to find a reason to be happy every day.
I have found that we all have moments where darkness creeps in. And it is not pathetic or lame, or a sign of weakness. It’s just how we feel sometimes…and that’s okay.
It’s our signal to reach out to people who care, no matter how few they are, or how far they are. We ask for help. We say a prayer. We make a call to an old friend. We play a song that plays a memory.
And sometimes, we don’t do anything, except believe tomorrow will be better. Because even when we have nothing, we have faith.

It is the hardest thing, to find a reason to be happy every day.
Perhaps ‘happy’ is pushing it. Maybe ‘thankful’ is a better fit. Thankful for family, friends, moments, melodies. For faith and love and trust and kindness.
For me, inspiration lies here.

Thankful, I can do. I hope you can too.

She is more.

It took me a few days to write this...my thoughts kept wandering to the many beautiful women I know and how gracefully I watch them do life. To them it is anything but graceful of course..and that is why I thought this had to be written.
In tribute to them and so many other women like them, all around the world. And as a reminder to those who know women such as these - you are more fortunate than you realize.

She is more.

What do you see when you look at her?
She is a friend. She is a lover. She is a wife. She is a mother.

But you are wrong. She is more.

She is your moral compass.
Going against the tide, pushing you to do the right thing, repeatedly and thanklessly.
Reminding you to think with your heart and your head, because neither work well in isolation.

She is your warrior.
Watching you struggle with everyday dilemmas, she reminds you she has your back,
calmly standing at the front of the lines with defiance, rising ferociously when it comes to battle.

She is your heart.
She loves endlessly and completely, there are no empty spaces or grey areas.
Caring about people you care about, she loves the ones you should love, but have forgotten how to.
She is the reason for love, she is the reason to love, she is love itself.

She is your storm.
There will be times when you will see her tempestuous streak rise.
Lightning bolts, angry showers, relentless silence – she brings them all.
Remember that storms pass. They are followed by rainbows.

She is your spirit animal.
As strong as a bear to protect you, as wise as an owl to help you,
as gentle as a humming bird to soothe you,  as sharp as a fox to defend you.
She is all the mantras of the world put together - she brings you peace.

She is your lifeline.
No matter how difficult the situation, she is the answer.
Her laughter will ring with yours as you celebrate life, her arms will hold you close in times of trouble.
In every walk of life, she is there, your own personal cheerleader.

She is every memory, every song, every absent-minded smile that crosses your lips.
She is a friend, a lover, a wife, a mother.

And yet, she is more.

Arafath and the mountain.

Over the last few weeks, I've watched Ara get ready for his big Kili trip.

He leaves to climb Mount Kilimanjaro on the morning of July 21st and he's doing it for the Larchfield Charity Organization. Together with others, their aim is to raise funds to build homes for underprivileged children in Tanzania.

In the last month we've organised a charity book and bake sale, a charity basketball tournament, talked to countless people and done endless research. I've realised it's fairly easy to talk about, write about, read about. 

Living it however, isn't as easily done. 

I wanted this post to be about all the hard work he's put in. The hours at the gym and at the weekly Friday trainings. The time he's spent researching the right gear, preparing himself mentally, talking to me about the minute details and all the other hundred things he's done in preparation for the climb. 

But I can't. 

Instead, all that's in my head and my heart, is pride. 

I am proud of how he keeps reminding himself why he's doing this and who it is going to benefit. 

Of how he has gone about this - all guns blazing, pushing himself mentally and physically. 

I am proud when I watch him talk to others about the climb - educating, informing, inspiring - all the while not realising what a big deal it is. 

Of how he is worried about himself and about us, because he is human. 

I am proud of the boy who told me, "If I can do anything good with my love for fitness, that would be good, right?"

I am proud of the boy I married eight years ago. I continue to watch your heart get bigger and bigger and it never ceases to amaze me. What you and everyone in your group is doing, is amazing. But I am partial to you. 

I will always be partial to you. Because you and I are drawn with the same pen and by the same Almighty hand. We were drawn with the same heart and the same love. You are mine as I am yours and for everything you are and all you are doing, I am proud of you. 

You'd think after eight year of marriage, the flowery words would stop. 

I find that they instead, start to mean a lot more. 

I found this song yesterday and fell in love with it. I think you might too. 

Enjoy your adventure and be safe. Love you much. 

Love Over Fear.

Being in the world right now kinda sucks.
Terrorist attacks taking place all over the world, and the death of innocence is all over the news. Corrupt politicians who think they can dictate what is meant to divide - colour, religion, sexual identity, gender...the list is endless.

When we were younger, we didn't worry as much - that's what parents were for. Growing up in the Middle East, the Gulf War was very 'real.' I have faded memories of mum and dad stocking up on tinned food, random power cuts and regular phone calls from family making sure we were doing ok.

But we're older now. We know more. We see more. We love more, so we fear more. That's beautiful and dangerous at the same time.

My husband and I are parents to a gorgeous little three year old. With her, every day is different. On some days her personality comes leaping out and we delight in it, but on others, we find ourselves holding back tears. Because I guess, it's what being a parent means....if it doesn't hurt sometimes, you probably aren't doing it right.
I often think about how we want her to be a good kid and have her heart in the right place. Love, respect, courage, generosity, compassion...all those words we associate with the beauty of every religion.

And then, I raise my eyes from my world of motherhood and take in the world around me...how big must I ask this little heart to be, when this is what she's going to be faced with?

The thought stayed with me and bothered me. A lot.
I watched a beautiful video earlier this week. And luckily, that stayed with me too. It was a reminder that in the bloody, hurtful, distressing battle between love and fear...love will always win.
You can watch it here.

So, to my little heart (and to hearts everywhere if you'd like)...here.

It will never make sense. 
There will always be hurt, there will always be pain, there will always be fear. For some reason - this is how things work, it's the way the world is designed. Perhaps it's meant to make things better in the long run, perhaps it's meant to teach us something ... we'll never really know and for longer than forever - people will debate this, just because they can. They will use social media, news channels, rallies and everything under the sun to support some, protest others, argue about who's supporting who...and it will be confusing. But sit back and think. How can you change this? For whom? Choose your battles wisely.

Be compassionate.
Hurt is hurt. Whether it's depression, a broken relationship, or an abusive marriage. Pain is pain. Whether it is war, earthquakes, or famine. If one country feels it - the world feels it. Do not give less of your heart...give as much as your heart can give. Whether it is money, prayers, or your time - just give. The person you help, may be the one who at that time - needs it most.

How much love is enough? 
It will never be enough for the world, my baby girl. Just as I don't know how much I love you (but it's a lot, trust me.) neither does the world know how much love it needs. But that can never stop us from giving. Our hearts have a beautiful magic to them...they're ever so tiny, but they grow enough to allow us to love. Always, just that little bit more, each time.

Appreciate. 
People, God, the universe...will keep doing things for you. A hot meal, a taxi ride when you need it most, a hug from a friend, a good game on court, a phone call...it will just keep coming. Always, always, always - choose to recognise it.

It isn't easy. 
Sometimes it will hurt. You will see things, and experience situations that will break you, and make you cry. There will be haters and name-callers. It will be exhausting to deal with. It will piss you off, even. But remember to think before you react. Again, choose your battles. If you need to fight, by all means. You come from a long line of fighters, and if you truly believe in it, and it's for all the right reasons - go for it. And you will always, quite miraculously, have help. Because others will love like you do, and they will find you. And it will always be worth it.

It will make you happy. 
At the end of it all, it will. I promise you. Your heart will be your own, and it will be at peace.
People tend to be scared of the word 'love'...perhaps it's a bit too real for them to handle. But learn to know it and it will not scare you. It is loyalty, respect, truth, bravery, faith, compassion and more. Love will set you free.

Damn, parenting really changes the way you see things. You re-learn how to do life.
Love over fear, my precious one. Always.




For my Mama, Cecilia. 
Who taught me love is what made us, and it was love that saved us. 
Happy 56th birthday <3 nbsp="">

Positive people. And why they're a good idea.

If you don't understand positive people, here's how it works.

The world we live in, is unfortunately fuelled to a great extent, by negativity. It's easier to complain, gossip, look away, be selfish, nasty, self-centred, mean-spirited and all the rest.

Because that is what we see, that is what we do.

The positive folk amongst us, try to overcome this. And while most of everyone thinks it's a nothing effort, it comes naturally, or 'that's just the way they are' - No.

No one is 'naturally' like that.

You try. And try. And watch others who have mastered the art of living a positive, truly happy life. 

And you learn. 

You get tired and hurt sometimes. After all, you're up against a mountain of negativity, but you keep trying all the same and refuse to give up on the inherent goodness of people. And hopefully along the way - you teach someone else a thing or two as well.

It isn't about money, connections, luck, one-upmanship, flaunting good fortune, etc. It's about the seemingly little things - friendship, family, love, empathy, respect, laughter, faith and more. 

It's about doing all you can, with love.

You may call it good sense, the right attitude, logic, humanity - love is just easier. I sense that it's scarier to a lot of people too...but its really, just easier.

So those positive people I mentioned earlier? 

If you don't understand them, don't be in such a hurry to bring them down. When push comes to shove, they're the ones who'll be standing in your corner when you, or anyone else, needs them most.

Till later.

Two is such a big number.

Leah turned two today. 

I didn't think it was possible, but she's even more perfect now, than when she turned one. 

We brought in her birthday with balloons, singing, dancing and much noise and merriment. She was thrilled and kept taking a bow, something she has recently learnt to do, much to our delight. We cut a little cake and our little girl felt rather shy, bless her heart. She was yelling 'thank you, thank you!' at the top of her voice as the balloons bobbed around her and we sang the birthday song in all the languages we know. 

She blew out her own candles this year....for me, that was new. 

At bedtime, our knackered princess hugged her Gappy goodnight and as he blessed her, she said, in her matter of fact way, 'I'm very happy.' Ara and I were showered with kisses. She wanted only her Gammy to put her to bed. 

When and where, O little one, did you pick up all this? What were you watching, what did you think and how much did you learn when we didn't even know you were paying attention?! You amaze us every day with the little person you are becoming. We see this strong, loving, gentle, often stubborn personality, slowly coming through. You are a reflection of all the people who love you ever so much, and you are a testament of the love of a precious God, our special friend. 

Someday, I hope you will read this and smile. Your second birthday was just like every other day, but it was so special at the same time. Because you see joy in the little things, my princess. In wrapping paper and nonsense and family meals and tickle-time and playing hide and seek. 

I hope you always see the little things. And know, deep down in your heart, that they are really the big things. 

Happy birthday, my Leedoo. 

Here is the secret I have been whispering to you almost every day, for the past year. You rush to me, excited to hear it each time. And when I whisper it to you, you look at me and whoever else is around you, in complete glee. 

You are my favourite. 

You always will be. 

<3 div="" nbsp="">

Papa and I love you very, very much. You make us want to be better people every day. You remind us to look at the world with love. You are our everything. 

Two, to us...is such a big, big number.

Let love lead us, love is Christmas.

Christmas is almost here.
And my heart is bursting a little at the seams. With happiness and thankfulness and joy.

We have a little bundle of joy due in the family anytime now - Muzu and Tabby....we just cannot wait to see you become parents! You will be more perfect than you can imagine!

Amrith and Addy are here with us, right after their crazy fun wedding in Calcutta and just before flying back to the UK. A whirlwind stopover, just to be with all of us.
It feels like home.

Mum and Dad are coming. Soon.
And then all my angels will be in one place again.

I have girls who love me. My girls.
With their cameras and to-do lists, they are mine.
You know who you are.

I have my Leah.
I have her. She is mine.
She is my noisy place, I am her safety. She is my cheeky grin, I am her hug goodnight.

And then there's my boy.
Who this year, wholeheartedly supported one of my biggest decisions to leave a 10-year banking career and follow my heart. He knew I could before I did.
He takes off my glasses when I fall asleep with them on. He goes grocery shopping on his own when he knows my hands are full. He sings my praises when I am unsure of myself. He holds on to my feet when all the balloons I hold in my hands, tend to lift me slightly off the ground.

Ara, you made me the happiest girl in the world and you continue to do so, in so many little ways. You are my I love you.

So Christmas is here.
From a humble stable where a little boy was born, to the love it brings to all our hearts today. To quote a favourite family hymn, 'Love it was that made us and it was love that saved us.'
Love is Christmas.

This song, 'Love is Christmas by Sara Bareilles', is a favourite of mine - it says all the most important things about the season..the stuff that matters.

I am thankful for good health, friends, family, love and happiness.
And as always, we pray for these blessings to be echoed to all who need them, all around the world. May 2015 be the year that the world remembers how to live. And how to love.

Merry Christmas everyone. From me and mine, to you and yours.

Troubled times.

I do not understand anymore.

There is much happening in this world, my world. On a world stage and within my inner circle as well. Things that I do not understand, things that hurt and have left me stunned and wide-eyed and holding back tears all at the same time.

In Sydney, innocent people were held hostage when they went to get their morning coffee. In Pakistan, a school was attacked. Children were murdered. 

There is little or no tolerance for people who are considered different. LGBT, have birth defects, are victims of war syndromes, abuse, slavery...there is no tolerance. Religious or otherwise. 

I sometimes feel my faith in humanity dwindling. I regret the world I live in, the world my little girl will grow up in. I feel my temper rise when I hear people make callous judgements on rape and abuse victims. I felt my heart ache when I saw a loved one with a disease that meant no one wanted to get too close. My soul feels heavy when I am part of a crowd of people who rally together, to walk in silence, for a cause they believe in.

But these are big things.

I feel empty and hurt when in our own, daily lives – we take each other for granted. We say and do things, we cannot take back or undo. We act without thinking. Of consequences, of feelings, of people we supposedly care about.

We do not stop to think.

No, I’m nowhere close to perfect. But that isn’t the point and completely not where I’m going with any of this.

Yesterday, on a social media forum, we spoke about how the Pakistan hockey team acted rather disgracefully after a win against rivals, India. We also spoke about how the Indian spectators treated the Pakistan team during the game. Again, disgraceful.

But what stayed with me after this online conversation, was one comment - “they deserved more hostility”.

How, on any level, can this possibly be correct?

How can that be the way we think, or the way our brains are conditioned to be?

I realized that it was more than just that conversation about a hockey game. It is the way we have come to look at life, in our own little spaces. With hostility.

 Traffic, office politics, family drama, when things generally don’t go our way.

We allow ourselves the excuse, that we are human. 

This then slowly, collectively, as the human race we are, snowballs into a much bigger problem. One that rears its ugly head on a world stage. We give it many names….religious differences, social norms, tradition. And we allow ourselves these excuses.

I guess what I’m saying is that if my faith is dwindling…I’m possibly not the only one.

But thankfully, I have been blessed with moments, people, situations…that remind me of the good, no matter how seemingly insignificant – in this unfortunately fickle-minded world.

So though I know little, here are my wishes for you.

Hold on to what keeps you sane.

To the person at work who makes you smile even when it’s the shittiest kind of day. To that 30-minute run you take, that allows you to think straight. To tidying up your house, playing with a kitten, cooking up a storm, watching a movie, saying a prayer, socializing, giving someone a hug, watching a child be joyful. Hold on.

Believe that there is good in the world.

From Pope Francis telling you that all animals go to heaven, to the people of Sydney and their #illridewithyou spirit, to Secret Santa gifts that make you smile when you open them, to your mum telling you that she loves you on whats app from miles away, to photographs of forgotten moments, to friends who care about the little things, to music.

Don’t be scared. Get closer.

We haven’t been programmed to know everything or to understand everything. Be bothered to know more. About causes and things that matter. As much as we’ve heard it a 1000 times before…be the change you want to see in the world. My mum taught me that I needed to brighten my little corner …and though I didn’t always agree with her, man do I believe her.
Do not be scared of what you do not understand. Deformities, abnormalities, sexual orientation, taking a stand against injustice, being pro-choice and so much more. 

Because you do not understand it, does not necessarily mean it is wrong.

Breathe. And think.

Before you react, before you speak, before you provoke, before you cry, before you raise your voice, before you stand up for something, before you make a choice, before you criticize, before you lose your heart, before you gossip, before you believe.

Just breathe and give yourself the opportunity to rationalize.

Give a little love.

To yourself, your family, your friends, the world.

And especially to people you wouldn’t normally want to.

Pay it forward. 

Now, think of your most favorite person.

There’s got to be some good in the world. The person you thought of, is or was, a part of it.

And I’m not preaching, I promise. Just sharing my life lessons.

Merry Christmas. May you always know that you are loved.

Till later.

Sav, Viv & six degrees of separation.

A little over a week ago, we were smack dab in the middle of madness.

Ribbons, bows, songs, dances, red carpets, clappers, give-aways...in short, wedding preparations for the latest big wedding in the family - Sav & Viv.

Detail upon detail was discussed, finalized and then often - discussed again and changed. Whats app chat groups, lengthy emails, visits to tailors, practices, way too many phone calls - you name it, we had it all going on.
It was completely insane. And yet, it was the best thing ever.

Sav and Viv, I figure in all the madness, you may have missed out on a few things. So I thought I'd fill you in on some of the stuff that happened at our end - the boys side. Some of the wonder that was your wedding and the lead-up to it. Stuff that we may have all been too busy to realize, but are thankful for.

Sav, your home and everyone in it. Everyone wanted to help. Whether it was tying bells to chopsticks, or feeding those of us who sat in Chinese factory fashion - everyone wanted to do something to make your special day perfect. That is good fortune.

Your mother. She practiced to dance with you. She felt shy and hesitant and emotional. But she made sure she looked her best and she made sure she took off her sweater, to dance with her golden boy. That is precious.

Your nieces. Oh my, your nieces. One practiced and practiced till your 'Primavera' was perfect. She was so concerned throughout and worried she would mess up. But on the day; in her purple gown and with her unsure  eyes - she was perfect. Sims, our little lady.
The other surprised us all. She perfected dance steps. Did you see? She was so nervous about running to the front to be picked up and thrown in the air! She became the baby girl that we all remember in that instance. She was the little Yva again.

Your cousins. They did everything they could on the wedding day to make it perfect. From opening church doors to the right chords of your entrance hymn, to running around the venue searching for the videographers, to having long, patient conversations with exasperating limo drivers. That is blood.

Your boys. Seeing you guys together made me realize what you mean to each other. At the park, it was like watching grown men leap out of their bodies and remember what it was like to be boys.  At your roce, watching a certain Mr. Sher sit with you and shiver his behind off - that is friendship.

Your bhai. My boy. He was your witness with all the pride that his heart can hold. He said he would stay with you all day - just in case. Of anything. He covered you with a blanket as you slept a few nights before. He said he would say what had to be said to anyone who needed it to be said to. You know. That, is brotherhood.

Your sister. Gosh. Where to start?
If she had to climb mountains and swim through rivers - she would have. She drove all over Dubai, nearly every day for two months, just to sort out every minute wedding detail.

You know her. Can you imagine the number of lists we were working with? She managed to stay on top of everything - travel plans, costing, family, friends, emotions...and then I saw her as you got married. As you danced. As you replied to the toast. When I watched you and her other boys dance with her...that is the only time I cried at your wedding. Because she deserved to know how special she is. To you boys and to the rest of us as well. That is love.

Your Jeej. He was ready for anything. To act, to dance, to party, to pick and drop - anything for Chinna. He folded tulle fabric (and yes, there was a lot of it!) he made sure the rest of us ate, he was the perfect big brother. He even color co-ordinated outfits with his wife. *grins* That's a lot more than just a Jeeju.

Your bridesmaid spent ages figuring out how and when she would sort out your saado make-up. She packed a bag for herself and you, made mental lists of all the stuff you may need - and put it together. She stayed with you that Friday evening. Just to know you were ok. That is caring.

Our little girl, Leah. The morning of your wedding we watched her take about 15 steps with so much confidence! We knew that she would be able to walk the aisle, at least a little. She did. In her own baby girl way - she was there.

Your friends. They got together with your family and went over dance steps, drafted skits, learnt entire routines in a day. They celebrated with us, helped without hesitation, watched you with happy hearts. That is loyalty. 

Ara and I are strong believers in the theory of 6 degrees of separation. That we are all linked to like minded people, by just 6 degrees. Which would mean, that others like us, people we would instantly get along with, identify with, feel a oneness with...were only a few steps away.

Through your wedding, it's amazing how many of us found each other. Some we already knew of, some we met and recognized immediately. On your wedding night - we were not parents, children, cousins, friends, photographers.
We were all just one big family. We watched you with love, happiness and pride.

It's like Ara said. The people around you on your special day...they are what matters. They will always be there, no matter what. For anything and everything. Present physically or in spirit - they are who they are.

That is family.

Congratulations you two. You have all our love, prayers and good wishes as you go forward to do life together. My advice for you?

Shucks, I have none. Go on, make your mistakes. Overcome your own hurdles, celebrate the little victories.
Learn together. And always remember to love.


Leaving you with this one. I know I'll never be able to hear it without thinking of you guys.
And yes,  it's a favorite of mine too now.

Big hugs.

For Leah

The world's got it wrong about babies and parents.

Here's what we like to think.
When babies are born, they are our responsibility. We love, care, nurture. They are helpless little people, completely dependent for anything and everything. We hold them in our arms and they know they are safe. 

I don't believe this to be entirely true. 

Leah celebrates her first birthday today. 

We love her more than words can describe. She is the first rays of the sun and the fading light of the moon. Think of how all the worlds most beautiful songs make you feel and you will understand how we feel about Leah.
All the time.

There were so many times in this past year when I was worried, upset, angry.
But being a new mother, I knew I still had to be normal. So I held my little girl and hugged her, played with her, talked to her ... I watched her fall asleep. And in those moments, when her tiny fingers held mine, she brought me peace. As I sang her to sleep, she silently surrounded me with sanity, gently leading me away from the grey clouds I was under. She held me in her hands and her eyes saw through me, straight to my soul. 

Holding Leah, I realize that everything is going to be all right. She reminds me that tomorrow will be better and that today is beautiful. That she loves me, irrespective of how I look, feel, react. That no matter what...she is a part of me. And I am a part of her.

I am human and I forget this often. But luckily, right when I'm in the middle of my crazy life.....this little jelly bag of cuckoo tries to bite my nose and is most delighted when I act shocked that she's managed to bite it off. 

And she reminds me again. 

I do take care of her, yes. But Leah...she takes care of me.
She carries my heart.

So Leah... This is for you. 

My precious baby girl, 

I stop to look at you as I put my thoughts together. My heart once again, feels that now familiar swelling up - I think it's all the love that a heart can hold, that suddenly gets multiplied by a gazillion when it comes to you. 

You have brought unimaginable joy to Papa and me. This year, has been nothing short of magic. The first time you turned, sat up, touched your own face, recognized us, laughed..so many firsts. We wanted to capture every moment, but just as we would finally get the camera out - you'd do something new. 

We finally gave up on the camera and just watched you, spellbound. 

You're a little comedian. You know when you're being watched in amusement and you feign ignorance, sticking to your adorable baby silliness. But we see the slight grin on your face. We know! You let out the most adorable baby farts, then turn to look at us to see if we heard and proceed to burst into a giggle fit! I realize that someday, you may not appreciate these little Leah revelations, but mamas and papas have rights too, y'know. A year ago, you were just a wriggly, constantly hiccuping ball of baby, in my tummy. Excuse my shock at this maddening growth spurt...I may be in denial.

You make the world make sense. When everything's maddening...spending time with you puts things into perspective. You push the negativity so far away, we lose sight of it. Like sunshine on a cloudy day - you make everything right. That's a big huge responsibility on your tiny shoulders, but you've got it. Piece of cake. 

We look at you and wonder. What will you do next? What will you want to be? Will you love basketball? And reading? Will you want a puppy? Will you be left handed or right?
But at the end of it all...be happy, our Leedoo. Just be happy.

God loves you so much...he gave you to us and so many other people who love you to the moon and back. You are our song of joy and praise.

We were meant to be yours, angel. And by the grace of the Big Guy upstairs, you were meant to be ours. 

And me? I loved you before I saw you. Our hearts knew each other long before that. I loved you more than I realized and each day I love you a little more. You showed me a part of me that I didn't know existed.
Your tiny hands hold my entire world. 

With you, I love more deeply, pray more fervently, see more clearly. I recognize my own real happiness and I see it in others as well. You have taught me to be fearless and brought out the Mama Bear in me. I see good in people....because I see them through your eyes.

I love you. I will always love you.
More than words can say and more than you or I, will probably ever know.

You are our biggest blessing, our dream come true, our Baby Button, our rainbow of joy.

Happy Birthday Our Dolly girl.
You are loved.

Forever Yours,
Mama

I am from happiness.

Sometime last year, I came upon a little slice of joy on the www.

It's an online magazine called She Loves. You can find it here and you're bound to spend a while there, browsing through everything. The love just jumps off the screen and envelops you into a ginormous hug of warmth and caring.

So when I read this post by the Editor, Idelette - it made me think. This one, right here.  
It made me want to write. So write I did. It was one of those writing times...which makes you go over who you are, your entire life...and in a matter of a few words, make up the puzzle that is you.

I am from good times.

From books and friendships, love and long chats over coffee.

I am from a Dad who gave his little girl a book all wrapped up, to gift mum on Mother’s Day. Mum had chosen it herself.  From many small, inexpensive Christmas gifts. Beautiful marbles, that sparkled like no jewel ever could.

From school breaks and bus rides home, filled with chatter and laughter.  From singing, saving for holidays and big family weekends.

I am from silence and prayers.

Moments of willing God to sort out the unthinkable, take the pain away, make a situation better.  Of silent, often tearful thanks, for mercies granted.  From learning that God, is above all else; my friend.

I am from strength. I am from fear.

From the brave pack of lions and lionesses that taught me that there was nothing to fear, except fear itself. Only roads to explore, lessons to learn.

I am from defining moments.

From watching my husband hold our little girl for the first time. The world became a better place. The world became a scarier place.

I am from desire. Constantly wanting more, working for it, praying about it.

I am from happiness.
With mum and dad – singing, praying, eating, holidaying – together. From an only child with no brothers and sisters…to the quiet confidence of knowing that I have friends who are family, who are angels, who are mine.

I am from the hand that held mine and asked to hold it forever.

I am from a thankful place. For the life I was born with, the life I am living and the life I want to lead.

 

 

The truth about becoming a mother & holding on.

It's not easy to write your own truth.

It's honest, real and raw - the bare, naked reality of the moment.

Becoming a mother changed my life.

And yes, its a million and one, beautiful moments. I generally write about those.

But in the middle of that lovely carnival of fun and riot of color, there is that one dark, frightening ride, that people tend to walk past and pretend isn't there because no one really likes it. But it's there all right. And it’s scary.

So here it is. My honest attempt at telling you my truth. As messed up and beautiful and cluttered and crazy, as only the truth can be.

It's the reality that I'm beginning to understand a lot of new mothers face. Where you're almost always sleep deprived. Nights of constant rising, rocking and feeding, take their toll. Times when you hold a crying baby in your arms, in complete and utter despair, wondering how on earth you'll ever be able to figure out the problem.  Worried that you'll do something wrong and your mind races at break-neck speed, to the unthinkable. Moments spent watching a sleeping angel - will you be able to do right by this little person? Dealing with the personal guilt of having to go to work, leaving your baby at home. Work pressure which has always been manageable, but suddenly, coupled with the new 'I'm a Mom' phase in your life - it's all too much. A solid kick in the stomach.

You read about hormonal changes that take place when your baby is born. You never think it could happen to you. But it does. It may not be extreme, but it's there.

The fire breathing dragon; that is the baby belly. There are tons of ways to lose it, but not enough available hours in your day to make it happen. You read all the right online articles, spout all the motivational speeches to yourself that you can – and you suddenly have that moment where you think, “Man, who am I kidding?”

You know you have the unconditional love and support of your family and friends. You constantly pinch yourself to remember that. But unfortunately, this is a battle you fight on your own. This is your Goliath.

It's a struggle to remember who you are in the middle of everything. In a matter of months, you're not so sure anymore and you give it everything you've got to hold on to some semblance of normalcy, that part of you that can hopefully rise above all the uninvited drama.

No, these are not excuses. It’s just the truth. People who know us well, will know how many times we’ve said in the last few months, as new parents – that people need to talk about the stuff that happens when a couple moves on to this stage of their lives. It’s beautiful and life altering and you forget the pain, they say.

I agree for the most part. It is beautiful and life altering. But there is pain. There is pressure. Nervousness, anxiety, fear, anger, misery – that all comes too, in varying doses. Call a spade a spade. It helps sometimes.

The good news?

It passes. Quicker than you realize. You’re not the only one. Ask for help. From family; above all.

To all the moms out there who’ve gone through any or all of the above…I feel you.

And it’s normal. Hang in there. It’ll pass.

A soul sister of mine (she’s my Pink Chili) recently quit her job to follow her passion. To say they're good at their craft is an understatement. They're constantly learning, experimenting, brain-storming. They call themselves Candid Kama Photography.

They're currently working on a relatively new concept for this market - a unique twist on glamour. Though it's just at fledgling stage - we've discussed its ears off.  She asked me if I would let them practice on me for a bit. I agreed.

So there I was. After a full day’s work, sans any kind of make-up.

In my full, tired, dark circled, wobbly baby tummy, spotty faced, hair falling, glory.

I realized how naked I subconsciously felt during the shoot. In that white, photographers light, all the bad bits that I was carefully hiding, were suddenly out in the open, flat on the table for everyone to see.

Woman flaws.

It was only later, when I saw some of their shots - that the reality of what we had just done - actually hit home.

It started out as just helping a friend. Practice Posing.

But here's the thing. On the other side of the lens was a new mother. An exhausted, worried, new mother, convinced that all her 101 bad bits which all decided to show themselves at this same time in her life, make her look and feel ugly, un-pretty and undesirable. Who feels unattractive and old, all in a matter of months. And completely out of her comfort zone with all this serious posing. 

But the camera whirred and my Pink Chili smiled and turned the camera image for me to see ... I felt a little light turn on in my head and heart. I saw just a few images...but I saw 'me' again. And I slowly let go of my inhibitions and relaxed. 

I realized it was more than posing. These girls reminded me of who I was on the inside. And that though I couldn't see it because of the little cloud of gloom that seemed to effortlessly follow me around these days, invisible to all human eyes except my own - there I was. 

Just Rose. Only me and my truth. My happy.

It was my Hallelujah moment. That affirmation, that the beautiful part of me that I've been fighting to hold on to - is there. Silently, joyously, waiting to be picked up, dusted and worn again. And I found it again because I subconsciously trusted a friend with the naked truth.

When we spoke about it later - I realized that as a subject and a photographer - it may have been just a project.

But for me and her - the images were more. It was her...but it was me. Soul sisters took on a whole new meaning right there.

I remembered to be thankful for the person God made me. And I remembered to be thankful for the angels that He constantly sends, to remind me of who that person is.

I am thankful for my Ara, who still thinks I am beautiful; in spite of all my insecurities right now. Love.

This is a big year for us. And I’m learning to cut myself just a little bit of slack. We’re getting there - slowly but surely. It’s a huge pot, with a lot in to cook…and when I have trouble blending it all, I’m learning to trust the hands that firmly, hold my own.

Even when it is the tiny hand of our little Princess. 

Till later.