My mother Lalitha – Part 0 (to be continued through out the blog journey…)

I was 14 years old small town girl. I grew to my current height (5.4 ft) as soon as I reached menarche. I was the tallest in the class and the last bencher because other puny kids complained that they can not see the board if I sit in the front. I was gawky and hunched my shoulders to underplay my height and other body parts which belonged on an adult.

One day, I ‘found’ a 2 page letter professing love tucked in my bag. That day was devastating as I thought of the humiliation I will face if any body else came to know. On the long walk from School, I thought of tearing the offensive material into shreds and getting rid of the evidence. But, I was also at an age, where this letter was devilishly exciting. Description of ‘me’ in boyish terms like ‘moon beam’ and his devotion to worship my shadow etc. were in a way perversely precious as well. I did not even know who wrote it and thought of the boys and started to do my guess work and it became even more exciting to think of a particular boy.

But, I am still a child at home right? I should be rightfully outraged and embarrassed and feel angry right? To a decent degree I was all that. I did not know how to break this at home and to whom to break this to. My immediate elder brother though shared everything from fantasies to knowledge bits always acted more elderly by taking sides with the other elder brother in crucial times. That was the boy thing to do may be. My sister was more like a friendly boss whose friends lived in and possessed fantastic things and being in her good favour was always an advantage. (I ran around to their houses fetching and dropping stuff for letting me dial three rounds in a phone, for letting me pick my own choice of rose etc.!!!). My father! NO WAY.

So I took mom to the room, locked the door and gave her the letter and as a testimony of my innocence started crying. At first she was silent, then she hugged me and then she told me that as long as I did not encourage people it was ok. These things are bound to happen when a girl starts growing up. In future, I should be careful not to leave my bag unattended and for now pretend like this letter was never seen by me. Never take any letters from anybody etc. As my relief flooded across my face and I started crying with happiness (more of a relieved tension I think) she told me to write this in my diary. It will be fun to read ten years from now!!!!

She became the coolest mom in the world for me from that moment on. And she continues to be.

Feeling and being

I was thinking about moments of frustration or moments when I feel on the verge of tears due to mute anger in my relationship with my partner. I am writing about it as I am going through one such moment right now (ha ha). I was trying to understand why such moments are almost predictable at hind sight?
One interesting fact is that there are seemingly endless ways of expressing resistance subtly. Selective engagement with issues is one way I feel. If we get into why selective, then we will get into a diaspora of subjects and it becomes never ending.
I was astonished to read that procrastination to take issues at hand forward in relationships might be due to resistance to authority!!! If we dig it deeply it might connect to gender and what not.
You get the idea right? I am pissed off so this rambling...

p.s: If you are concerned about what is happening then dont be. Because some times what does not happen might be the problem. We have a track record of kissing and making up before we sleep so rest easy ;-)