To Breastfeed or not to breastfeed?

This topic is very close to my heart as it has given me an emotional experience. With the birth of my son, I got a little more closer to the eternal questions about exixtentialism, woman's existence in particular, Some of these questions have steered me to an elevated space of higher wisdom. 

To give you a sneek peek at my latest piece...

"‘To breast-feed or not to breast-feed’ is the apprehension perplexing many independent and educated women especially new mothers. In retrospect, I also thought that. However, the tender touch of my baby made me feel that breastfeeding is the best gift I could have ever given him.

Breast milk is man’s first food served with the right nutrients in the right proportion at the right temperature. And a mother plays a phenomenal role in nurturing another soul through the ambrosia which spouts from the fountain of her breasts. This nectar flowing right within her is believed to have an everlasting impact on the overall well-being of an infant...." 

Read my full article on this important yet contentious issue in Woman's Era, December (First) Edition 2016.

Chao for now

Reader's Feedback

The greatest reward for a writer is readers' connect


I always enjoy reading and replying to my readers. If someone happened to bump into a piece I wrote, any thought which made them question, made any difference is my true reward. I often get mails from readers whom I don't know in person. The only connect is through the powerful words from my world to theirs. 

A recent mail from a reader from South in response to an article I wrote for The Hindu on Pyjama power. The whole post was an eulogy. The reader Sarthak appreciating the feature idea said, "I could relate with the article as it was about everyone's experience. A thought which you have captured well". 

Each feedback is truly special. And it matters a lot to me. 

Thank you for making my day :)

Dear Zindagi Activity

I am writing about Jug in my life for the #DearZindagi activity at BlogAdda. My friend in my life has to be my mother. The pillar on which the foundation of my existence rests. Our friendship dates back to early 90s’ when she transformed her role from a mother to a friend effortlessly. Guess, that’s an inborn talent mothers have.   

Words are not enough to describe our equation. Still, for the sake of my Jug, I will try to define our bond: a supreme connection of one heart with another surpassing the menial boundaries of mere words.

I discovered a friend in her at a time when I was floating in deep black waters, struggling with a mighty wave called Adolescence. The confusing age, as it is, made me clueless about things I heard at school, read in newspapers or seen on TV. This period of identity crisis prolonged till my saviour came into my life like sunbeams glowing through heart of gloom.

Being there, I presume, is the first rule in friendship book which she always fulfilled. As a mother she has always been there. As a friend, she arrived in my teens. I sailed through that tumultuous period through her support and understanding. To that and many more situations which were to befall years later, she stood rock solid beside me.  

Sharing and caring are the two hallmarks of a real friendship. Both of which I found aplenty in my equation with her. Whether it was first crush, report card at school, moments of angst, that tender feeling of love, everything anything was shared in great detail with her. Pretence was shown door and originality was embraced during my conversations with her. Gradually, the foundation our friendship was laid.

Open hearted interactions smeared with dollops of care made this bond grow even stronger with time. Care is the driving force for any relation. Her responses to the questions I asked or advice I sought, everything revolved around my best interest. She placed my care at the highest pedestal.

My friend wore our friendship like a badge of honour. She cultivated this bond as she tends to vegetables in her terrace garden. Over the years, our friendship only matured and ripened like a wine in a vineyard. They say, the real friends once found should not be let loose. As echoed by Polonius’s advice to his son Laertes in Hamlet: ‘Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried/ Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel’. She stuck with me till this very moment as I write this piece on friendship. In sickness and in health.

Never did she let out my words to third person. This sole fact reposed my trust in her. And trust is the cornerstone for any relationship. Be it daily happenings at school or my unshaped random views about life, she was witness to all. A patient ear was lent, rants and reactions were heard; responses were noted. I always knew as an innocent child, a disgruntled teenager or a confused adolescent, that she is my final resting point.

My friendship with her is based on mutual respect. She respect me for who I am. What I said as a child was given due attention. As an adult, things only improved as I picked up language. Our friendship grew with time as I blossomed into youth. Stages of life kept changing but the nature of our friendship remained same based on love, respect, and trust.     

During my pregnancy, one person I needed the most was my mother. She did everything she possibly could. Heard me, advised me, took me to doctor, fed me, took care of me, bore my emotional tantrums, hormonal imbalances without any sign of exertion. I was difficult to handle. But only she could handle me.

Bearing labour pain, she stood for fourteen long hours tending to my back. I never asked for it. She judged my needs even before I could express it in words. That’s a true friend. My Jug, my mother.

Even the birth of my son and all his firsts have been taken care of by her. She has been my confidante.  

Through her, I have been able to access a whole new world within myself which until her arrival was elusive to me. My beliefs, perspective, ideas, identity, humility, creativity all stems from her presence. She is the one who invoked spiritual intelligence in me. Enlightened me with the supreme connection with the God. The access to the ‘best in me’ is the result of her guidance.

My inspiration is my mother who is an ultimate guide to wisdom. We fit each other as two pieces of jigsaw perfecting each other. She replenishes my soul. My true soul-mate.  Thank god for her with whom I share the ludicrous laughter that comes from enduring the ordinary everyday existence. I feel at this moment what Emerson said, “Friendship, like the immortality of the soul, is too good to be believed.”

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Benefits of blogging 

The song from Frozen by Idina Menzel: Here, I'll stand and here I'll stay echoes in my mind as I write this brief after having crossed the milestone of 50 posts :) 

It has been a long journey. I have finally made half-century as far as number of posts in my blog are concerned. Here, I wish to stand, as I am forever connected to my blog. This space is my own. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can influence my thoughts in this domain. 

My blog has been like my baby whom I had given birth in 2008. Since, then I have been on a journey recording milestones, sharing memories, writing what concerns me about the world, people, relationships, life in particular. Each word straight from my heart, no strings attached, whatsoever. It has been my companion in good times, more importantly, in worst times. When I had no one to talk to, I turned to blogging. My innermost feelings found an expression here. It buried the restlessness.

I don't remember how and why I had started blog in the first place. I think the journey began when I was aspiring to become a journalist and seeking admission in India's top notch institute for media, IIMC. My first post was this. I am equally proud of what I wrote eight years back. 

Each post is truly special in its own way. 8 years, 50 posts. Not bad. Though, I should have been more regular in the years that went by. Nonetheless, the present number too makes me feel happy. This is the perfect occasion for me to also share how blogging has helped me become a better writer.:

1) Increased familiarity with words- The more I blog, the better I know my words. They are like my friends. I can call them whenever I need them. They serve and are at my beck-and-call.
2) Inspired to look for ideas-I look for ideas to write in whatever experience I go through daily. Everything and anything tells a story. My job as a blogger is to tap those stories and express in this space. I feel truly accomplished once I press the 'Publish' button. Ideas invite me to write about them, convert them into a full-fledged story.
3) Writing is best, when it is from heart-My blog has taught me that writing which comes straight from heart is always heard and responded by readers. It connects with everyone.
4) Blog being an ardent listener-All my rants, frustations, emotional turmoil, opinions, discourses, meditations, philosophy were absorbed by these plugged in ears. Anytime, my blog was always wired to listen to me. This confidence and trust reposed over the last eight years is what makes my relationship with blogging truly special. 
5)Reach out to audience- My blog has global readership from countries like US, UK, Ukraine, France, Germany, Europe. They reach out through the medium of this space and connect with him. Single comment, a single post does make a lot of difference. It drives me to keep writing. Keep churning out words. 
6) Reinforces discipline, brings consistency- No skill is perfected if it not practiced consistently. It doesn't bear fruitful results. My blog motivated me to document instances from real life which otherwise would have gone unnoticed. This exercise in turn honed my writing skills making me a better story-teller. The craft of writing like any other skill needs utmost regularity. My blog, therefore, came to me like poetry comes to a poet- spontaneous. 

What's been your blogging experience like?

               Try Gardening for peace

                      by Priyanka Chauhan

I always enlisted ‘Gardening’ in the hobby column of my Resume thinking I would definitely do it ardently one day. However, this word rested for almost a decade in that space till the birth of my son, when I decided to finally shun off all excuses and smear myself with the wonders of the wonders-Nature.

My initial inspiration to have been awestruck with the extravaganza of the green world began when I used to see my mother plant saplings. As far as my memory can loom large and remember those yesteryears when she would plant, plant and plant in her seldom precious leisure hours. 

Tender Spinach, red turnip, browny Potatoe, ornamental chillies will be the show of our Kitchen garden  at backyard. In retrospect, I now zoom in to capture and understand the bliss she experienced while harvesting her crops and cook a meal out of her produce. Too young to appreciate her enthusiasm back then, I truly salute her spirit of gardening which she never really shared with anyone because nobody understood that divine pleasure, that soft feeling to be one with the nature.

Today, that kitchen space is no more. To keep apace with the time and limited resources, the kitchen garden had to be dislodged in order to make space for our study rooms. Those juicy Guava and Pomegranate trees are no longer standing barefoot to observe us frolicking around the garden. Mango tree is gone too. So is the mighty banyan tree with the robust red flower!

Much against my mother’s wishes, those rooms snatched away her Garden of Eden. She became sad but the move was justified in the wake of ‘need for space’. She silently fell in line with the argument.

Years later, all the trash bins, empty cans, paint buckets, rusted vase, plastic bags and mugs, a broken bowl, earthen pot are filled with the beauty of nature. 

A case in point which illustrated her passion for gardening goes back to the time when a pillar was uprooted from our patio in one of the government’s drive. The smell of fresh soil and sight of pure red soil underneath that pillar made her run from pillar to the post to collect more soil and compost before that deep hole was filled.  Within two days, she collected sufficient compost which was to go into the several feet deep hole and out of which a budding shrubs of Madhumalati were to swing and sway showering us with flowers of red and white.

Birth to my son renewed my interest in Gardening. I see it as a legacy. It’s my responsibility as her daughter to carry forward her interest and grow plants and grow together with them. Secondly, it had always been my interest. The delivery made me realise my son was also a little seed of planted love. His care was my responsibility. The act of bringing up children is as joyous as raising beds of vegetables and bask in their glory. For this and to many other reasons, look forward for more posts on Gardening.

You can tell me what made you take up Gardening? 

Diwali Market: A Fusion Song of Myriad Hues

Each year Diwali’s electrifying decorations adorn market spaces like a bride. Embellished with myriad hues, the festival of light kick starts competitive fever amongst commercial hubs to exhibit heaps of sweets, glittering gifts and neon lights.

I decided to tour the famous old market in Faridabad to taste the slice of this year’s Diwali decorations. As I approached the market, I got excited like a toddler throwing curious glances at the visual grandstand. On our way to the market, my mother and I went on a rickshaw. However, having failed to partake into the festive mood of the grandeur at the display (as the rickshaw moved way too fast for us to savour the spread out fanfare), we decided to walk back on our return.

The rickshaw ride was like a trailer of a beautiful movie, which was to unfold layer by layer after we alighted. Jostling for space in the commercial sphere, we started with window shopping at emblazoned corners which were extended from small shops to showcase Diwali extravaganza.

 The exuberance of shiny streamers of all shapes and sizes (diagonal, square, rectangle, oblong, and circular), soaked in bright colours were resting on roadside stands, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their potential buyers. A few customers merely touched, opened those bitsy creations, changed sides, checked their fall and kept it back in the stall. Others picked up those tiny marvels at first instance.

Chandeliers, paper lanterns, wall hangings painted in silver, gold and brass lit the whole space. The mandatory ‘Shubh Deepawali’ wall hanging put up at home’s entrance was neatly placed alongside hand-painted diyas and other art decorations. Scintillating lights sparkled these artistic wonders ten-folds when visited during the evening. Around this time of the year, any shopping place turns into Diwali Square, buzzing with people round-the- clock.

Splash of orange, ounce of red, sprinkled with some magenta welcomed me to the stalls of Rangoli sellers, who patiently sat on ground marketing the colourful bonanza. The bedecked spectacle was like a colourful picture floating aimlessly in a surreal island.

Many stalls had also put up heaps of traditional Kheel and batasha; every Diwali my mother bought this sweet unfailingly for Lakshmi Pooja. On the Dhanteras occasion, not even a single corner was without customers. It was as if everything and anything are bought by people. 

Noticeably, this year the buzz was more about clothes, sweets, gifts and colours than crackers. Diwali lights sang a fusion song when fell on shrubs in my patio piercing the dormant leaves and creating a Rainbow of Lights at nightfall. Truly, a wonder in a year! I secretly wished if Diwali could be celebrated throughout the year. Then, one would feel high energy and sail through these serene sights of abundance every day. Air, too, will be jazzed up all days.

The scent of misty air beckons the arrival of winters now.

©Priyanka Chauhan

Pix from the Net.

The piece was written for Diwali Special Edition, Different Truths 

How to get promoted as Manager in 365 days

                            

They say it matters what you do but what matters the most is how you do it. Uniqueness always pays dividends in life. Be it in your personality, outlook, creativity, perspective or in the aspect which govern a significant part of your life-career.

A robust career growth is everyone’s dream. Everyone wants to be at the high pedestral of being the driving force of the work they do. In other words, promotion, recognition and designations is the adam’s apple which everyone wants to eat. How come others are suave enough to be at the top in no time while others lag behind in this corporate chase? Reasons are plenty; they don’t do different things but do things differently.

Here are the list of things which can take your career by leaps and bounds and can deliver your promotion right at your desk:

1.      Identify your employer’s degree of Interest-It is one of the most important steps which will pave the way for your much wanted promotion, or that much coveted managerial designation you had been eyeing for so long. Your bosses’ interest in the projects, his goals, vision, mission, thinking is what you should be familiar with. A thorough study of your manager’s objectives will steer you towards the right work at the right time. Thus, a lot of your energy will be saved which will then be channelized into fruitful work inching you towards your final goal.

2.     Self-Motivation-History tells us that motivation is single most important force which differentiates a winner from a loser. Be it any field. No Sania Mirza, Usain Bolt, Bill Gates, Tata, Shah Rukh khan are made without a potent inspirational force acting within fueling fire to excel. To ignite this fire, one can keep the print-outs of appreciation mails on one’s desktop, soft board at office, home which will keep pushing you to work harder and harder. If your superior appreciated you once, he can do it again. Remember, Rome was not build in a day. So, you have be consistent in delivering which will only come if you are self-motivated.

3.     Handle Check-ins with Swag-Firstly, create the situation for the promotion. That, comes by creating perception much before your promotion is due. Get involved in ‘Training’ which will bring you to the notice of the management directly creating a favourable platform for you to launch ‘Promote me to the next level’ campaign once your hike is due. Be on a look-out for opportunities which can put you in a space which is noticeable instantly. Projects, meetings, conference call-make your presence felt positively.

4.     Face the Check-in confidently-Once your meeting to discuss your probable promotion is due, that is where you need to put your best foot forward. Managers will pin you down by throwing the bones of team work, help out your mates, the current project needs you in order to avoid elevating you from your current role. How to do counter answer such statements? By Preparation. Be well prepared with answers like-I can always help my existing team even if I lead a team  of my own or I can always help others provided they ask for help…answers like these will put your Reporting Manager on backfoot. The tone should be firm, confident not offensive. Once the check-in is over. Set the stage for the next meeting.

5.     Frame it big-Talk about the bigger picture. Stray away from a personalised view of the existing problems. Instead talk about the project as a whole, new ideas, how and when part, affects on the larger units etc. Expand the context frame of the obstacles and make your superiors visually feel the impact of your words. That would deter them putting you back to your same old position.

6.     Take back control from managers- Mangers are like Judges who would not give you things easily till you have proven your merit. Make a strong case of your achievements and put it out in front of them firmly. They may say things like ‘ your performance has not been superlative’, you need improvement despite your proven track record, there you need to take stock of things. And present your case with relevant examples from your own career. Talk about growth not just projects.

7.      Focus, determination and hard work- That’s the prequisite for any move in the Corporate ladder. It acts as a foundation stone for your much deserved growth.  Keep making efforts. Be consistent in what you do. Ask questions. And you will be on the right path very soon.

((With inputs from Pramod Chauhan, Manager, Insights and Operations, Adobe Systems)

                                                          Voting Fiasco

“The absurdity of the whole process made me feel selfish….” Priyanka Chauhan’s short story delves into the fads of the social media.

I decided to enrol my four-month-old son to the cute baby contest scheduled for this month. Initial feelings with which I filled the registration form on parenting website were of pride, elation, excitement, competitive fever, social approval and recording a milestone for future.

This was to be the first form I ever filled for my child. Sure, mandatory it was for the competition! My eyes started twinkling thinking of trophy.  I would flaunt it in front of my family and friends after winning, I thought as I keyed in the details.

Firstly, instructions were not clear on the website about the procedure, contest and the voting link. Somehow, I filled in the details. Then, there was no confirmation of the submitted form.

Neither there was ‘Contact Us’ tab on the website, I kept wondering whether my son was registered for the contest or not for the next two days.  Finally, a notification did appear from the organisers saying that my baby is ready to cut the chase.

“Who will be the cutest baby for the period of August 31- Sept 02,” it read. I reenergised myself as if saying with a whistle ‘on a mark, get set and go’ to my little one?

The deciding factor for winning the competition was to be voting.

“I mean, seriously! Voting,” I told myself.

How can voting, that too, by ‘Facebook friends’ decide the cute quotient of my baby. Nonetheless, in order to realise my dream (with I had seen with wide-eyes open during the form submission), I logged in. I was online almost after a year of dormancy to garner support from my social buddies.

I posted a vote declamation on my FB wall to people whose ‘updates’ I never really ‘liked’ or ‘read’. The absurdity of the whole process made me feel selfish. Nevertheless, I kept begging for votes from people with whom I have had zero interaction in the last one year.

As if begging and pleading was not enough, I started explaining the process to ‘my potential voters’: how to follow the voting link and cast their vote, troubleshoot and guide them through technical errors, reconfirming from those who assured they had, reminding those who hadn’t, and fuming over those who were as reactive as a log of wood.

Almost half the day was over in chasing the mission, I glanced at my baby who was being nursed by my mother. As I gulped down my food, a little plug-in point came to my notice. It was given just below the comment box on the contest website and read ‘share the link on WhatsApp’. I pressed and what happened after that can be described only with one word- Harakiri.

The same procedure of FB got repeated on WhatsApp with more questions and even more troubleshooting issues followed by resolutions doled out by me.

“I am the cutest baby for you, by you, of you, Ma.”

My school mate Gunjan who had entered her month old daughter in the same contest a month back replied to my WhatsApp text saying, “It is the most worthless contest ever. It discourages parents and dusts off their sentiments attached with the baby.” This was the only thing left for me to hear, I sulked.

“My daughter received 600 likes on Fb as I requested all in our circles, however, the one with 1000 likes was declared a winner,” she voiced her angst.

I crashed, cringed and crucified myself!

I was exasperated by the evening and cursed myself for having done something as messy as this.

Besides, I overlooked what my son would have felt, had I sought his opinion pertaining to this voting fiasco. Asking the world to vote on his cute face seemed derogatory now. I felt guilty!

Had he been a grown up boy today, he would have said: “Mom, I do not wish to be voted as the cutest baby by the social media.”

“I have a vote which matters the most – yours. I am the cutest baby for you, by you, of you, Ma.”

A pop-up with a clinking sound hits my mailbox announcing, “Your son Voting Report is only at 33. Ask your friends and family on Facebook to vote.”

Published in Learning and Creativity Magazine.

Pics: Pixabay

Tweet it!

by Priyanka Chauhan

Today, we lost 17 of our jawans in what can be described as the dastardly act by terrorists. My father told, “It is a very sad for the nation today. Go tweet this on your handle”. Papa has never spoken of his desire to tweet an emotion before. It made me smile even at the time of crisis. Clearly, my old man has absorbed the language of media so much so that his outlook has also become more inclusive. Papa doesn’t use internet, social media at all. For him to suggest, ‘tweet it’ was as if a generation has come full circle in living abreast with the present times.

Wordless Wednesday

 The famous Cloud walk dome picture cicked from the topmost roof during Singapore sojourn.   Photo credit: me :)

The realm beyond words

                             by Priyanka Chauhan

     Image source-roseinthekitchen.com

Communication is without question the most important skill in life,’ says Stephen Covey, the world-renowned author and motivational trainer. It cements the fragile ties, fills in the gaps and recovers the lost sheen in any filial bond. However, is language the only requisite for healthy communication?

My three-month old baby has taught me that language is the least important faculty required to be in tete-a-tete with someone whom you accept. My baby, for instance, connects with me like no one has ever done. The reason is the bounteous use of the four letter word in our communication: Love.

The need to love and be loved is universal, isn’t? When we act in love without self-interest, our communication is of the highest possible level.

The late Dr Haim G. Ginnot, clinical psychologist and parent educator, wrote in his book, Between Parent and Child that the tragedy of wrong communication often lies “not in the lack of caring but in a lack of understanding; not in a lack of intelligence, but in a lack of knowledge…”

Powerless words-fractured relationships

Communicate rests on simple principles: understanding, acceptance and love. Sadly, these very basics are lost in daily vicissitudes of life where mere words make our world. They shape who we are and how we see life. They shape our response to situations, people and form our destiny. The words we use today become the life we live tomorrow. Are words able to penetrate into the soul of people and connect with them?

Our collective understanding of who we are, the values we stand for, the culture that defines us, the civilisation we belong to, is largely a creation of words. The worldview we inherit and that we take to be the truth has been handed down to us from society through words.

Connection based on mere words cloud real feelings; what is meant is not said and what is said is not meant! Sample the complexity and quality of relationships around us these days. A classic case of fractured verbal syndrome exists in each sphere of our lives.

In the world where my baby and I communicate, words have no place. The multitude expressions which adorn my tiny fledgling’s face, each enunciation conveys the profound intensity and urgency of his needs. The result is much better than words would create. Such is the power his expressions behold, boundless innocence commands.

For instance, if my baby wishes to be picked up or in need of a cuddle, he will convey so by flashing series of expressions on his face. His immediate need will be voiced in a span of few seconds. However, the urgency of his concern is proportional to the variability of his myriad expressions.

Whether hunger has knocked his tiny bell out or a wet nappy which needs change, crying conveys what words cannot. The skill lies in detecting and differentiating the varied versions of baby cry. Shrieks denote urgency and demands immediate response whereas mere sounds in irregular pattern could be just a request go out and be his playmate.

Body Language, an effective tool

Body language is yet another tool which babies deploy profusely to emote. When my son is excited, he expresses the feeling by moving his legs and hands rapidly. His eyes widen which are then yoked with cooing sounds like oooo, aeehhh, mum, awahh etc. indicating his other needs.

They say when a baby is born, mother is born too. As a mother, one learns to tune in to her child’s frequency. My son has also empowered me to learn this secret language of love; Something which I was also born with as an infant but forgot to use aplenty as I grew up.

Scientific and spiritual connection

The feeling is like that of a magician who can make the baby smile, pacify and comfort his pure soul. The magic wand is that of unconditional love which facilitates interaction at a spiritual level too. It is the intimacy of the two souls which adds depth and connect to each action in nurturing the other.

The efficacy of this fact is scientifically proven too. Neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) has a concept called ‘Mirroring’ which holds that in order to create harmony between us and the person we are talking to, we mirror their gestures, expressions and postures.

My son and I mirror each other’s verbal expressions. When I reproduce his coos, mumbled words and expressions, the result is no less than a rendition of some world-class poetry played out by orchestra. It is truly the infinite interaction with finite vocabulary!

Real communication is a lyrical ballad

Endless gabble defines the space which my kid and I cohabit. An interaction where he babbles and I understand. Yes, together we communicate! Aren’t these the grounding principles of real communication model taught in school?

The place where the symphony of feelings play a lyrical ballad castigating powerless words. A world where the tiny one’s creation of meaningless ‘meh meh’ carry profound resonance that even a litany of thousand words put together can’t deliver.

I feel if to be a woman is a thing of joy then being a mother is pure ecstasy! As one can bank upon what UNICEF describes as ‘social capital’ for building a better world with better understanding.

Need to open communication channels

I have learnt that unless communication channels that connect the separate, individual worlds are kept open and functioning to receive each other’s life-giving energies, we are doomed to loneliness, alienation and suffering.

Communication skills are vital for a joyous, successful and healthy life. And yet, let’s face it, we just don’t know how. We are unskilled at this most crucial of tasks. We blunder along, venting, reacting, insisting, dominating, manipulating, blaming, and withdrawing. With little or no awareness, we fail to register the other, or our own inner world, for that matter.

We can only communicate appropriately when we are in control over ourselves. To do this we must free ourselves of our fears and inhibitions; our assumptions and prejudices; our needs and desires; our past history.

The article was published in The Hindu

No Vaccination, please!

Yesterday was the third vaccination day for  you my kiddo at the Asian hospital. As soon as you lied on the doctor’s bed, you raised both your arms and craned your neck backwards to look at me with a clear expression of fear on your face. Your body was literally trembling. A strange episode which had never happened before.

The doctor asked me in amazement, “Has he ever done it before?”

Your Nani and I replied in negative.

In retrospect when I think, you were asking me to save you from those deadly injections which the doctor mercilessly gave you. The previous two times you could not express as you did now.

It was a miraculous gesture from your end my boy. I couldn’t understand it then.

Love you loads….

Mummy

Soul Speaks 

by Priyanka Chauhan

Dear Readers,

The Times of India sent home two books today. To know why, read . The first book was a compliation of  the best of The Speaking Tree published under this column by TOI called ‘The Best of Speaking Tree’.

Second one was Soul Curry, a collection of inspiring stories published in the Soul Curry segment of the Times Group.

It feels great to be rewarded in the safe walls of home. Since the delivery of my son, I am literally in a self-imposed house arrest mode, meeting the demands of the little one. Encouraging words or appreciation in any way definitely pushes me to strive harder and harder. A big thank you!

I have now decided to pen down my thoughts on ideas or stories from these books which strike my sensibilities. Look forward to this space for more.

The Ballon Man: Forlorn and Forgotten

by Priyanka Chauhan 

Decades back, the balloon man was a character straight out of child’s wonderland. For children, he was the richest person on this earth carrying the chromatic collection of a child’s fantasy with him. Dressed simply, the Balloon Uncle, shouting “balloons-balloons” on the streets would gallantly announce his arrival with a bugle. Young buyers filled with impatient demands would create outcry: “I want red; I want blue.” While some would point at a particular balloon (the seller had only one of each type), others tried their hands greedily at the strung colourful bonanza. Prized anywhere between Rs 1 and Rs 10, the seller had balloons of all shapes and sizes: heart, apple, pear, and ball, oval, tail twisted. Today, new age cartoons like Chota Bheem, Angry Birds and Dolphins are also found in his rich repertoire, recalls Priyanka to read the full article, click on the link given below:

The above article was written for Different Truths Magazine:http://differenttruths.com/potpourri/the-balloon-man-forlorn-and-forgotten/

Lessons from birds

         by Priyanka Chauhan         

Ever watched a bird building its nest? Day by day, from the time the sun rises to the time the sun sets, the proud parents diligently collect twigs and leaves, preparing to welcome the young one on its way.

I happen to witness this serene spectacle in my garden hedge. The mother bird saw, planned and conquered! She brought strands of dried twigs and chose a shrouded corner below the hedge to build its nest.

Having identified the safe spot to lay her eggs, she went on to accumulate resources. A strand after strand, the nest was built in no time. A physical strenuous task indeed!

Beautifully crafted nest covered with leaves was dangling just below the shrubs. Monsoon was just around the corner; an overcast sky was brooding and grumbling over the earth waiting to unlock the monstrous volley of tears. And here, the saga of curious kinship between the bird and its unborn chicks was about to eventuate.

The mother bird incubated her eggs for hours together braving the unstoppable rains. She was a perfect poised figure of solemn words, patience, resilience and endurance.

A close observation of how she reared chicks out of her eggs was an insight into the finer aspects of management like strategic thinking, planning, organising, executing and training.

Seconds curving into minutes, minutes unfurling into hours and hours finally melting into days paved the way for the two baby birds.

Soon the fledglings’ opened its teeny eyes, screeching and squealing for food, and the mother bird gently fixed her beak into the tiny mouth dropping the morsel, grain-by-grain (an extraordinary experience, beyond words and human telling, even impossible to capture in the lens!). It is a classic example of motherhood and parenting.

I had delivered my son just before the delivery of these birds; therefore, I could observe, understand and relate with this marvellous event closely. My mother remarked, “This bird is like another daughter who has come home for delivery.”

The economy of the bird’s self-sustaining systems unfolded lessons on perseverance, motherhood, independence, resourcefulness, sacrifice, love and hope.

Unlike humans, I felt the birds were in ‘present’ moment. Watching them led me to a state of thoughtlessness. They are willing to rebuild from the scratch: to pick the broken promises, heal the betrayed trust, and to give failed dreams another shot.

There was no respite from Monsoon. It rained again! This time for days together. The mother bird kept her babies warm by sitting on them. Her body heat was the source of life for the chicks amidst the turbulent weather. It was similar to the way my newborn would cling to me for safety and warmth.

My parents did a make-shift arrangement and kept a plastic sheet over the hedge to protect the nest from rains. However, the mother bird grew suspicious of such an adjustment. She would not enter into the nest and observed it only from distance while chirping with anguish. Probably, she saw the sheet as a threat. Help from outsiders was simply unacceptable to her.  A lesson in self-reliance indeed!

Sunshine set the flight training into action. The mother bird began teaching flying to the little ones. She was struggling with the chicks; the tormented voice seemed exhausted from giving directions and instructions to trainees’ who seemed to ask questions (suggested by their fervent chirpings).

It is therefore befitting, in this day and age, to see how the mother bird would respond to its childrens’ questions.

“Learn flying fast! We need to fly away soon,” said the mother bird.

The chicks asked, “Why do we need to leave the nest?  Why can’t we stay in here, mom? Cat won’t find us here!”

“But man will!” “It’s the man you should be wary of when I’m gone.”