'By The Ganges'

Imagine the mornings of a working woman with an infant to care for.

She has completed the chores like prepared food, sterilised the feeding bottles, boiled water kept in a flask etc. The moment she picks up her bag to step out, her child wakes up.

Have you seen a child who has just woken up? Fresh from long and relaxing sleep and that smell of Johnson’s products and the sweet smell of his lil sweat.

Since she knows the signs, she knows he wants to pee or poo. So she thinks, “let me be with him as I still have ten minutes in hand.”After wiping his soft bottom, she hugs him.Very little ones usually don’t press themselves against their moms while being hugged but they do reciprocate by resting their heads on her shoulder or offering their cheeks for a kiss.

Overwhelmed by that sweet smell and twinkling eyes, she drops the idea of going to office. And cuddles the baby and loves to be with him the whole day. Each moment she is with him, is a moment of bliss.

This is what happens to me. I usually have a few tasks pending before retiring to bed. We teachers do not only give Home-work, We get a lot of it too. I creep towards my Vaio for quickly checking my FB and Gmail. Then I follow the ritual of visiting a few blogs I have deep reverence for.

While Random Expressions re-introduced me to Lata the Goddess and gave me a homely ambiance , By the Ganges enthralled me with its usual topics and their unusual presentation.The words here carry the smell of my childhood days and cast a nostalgic spell.

I came to this blog six yrs back to pay a return visit. I think it was called Journalism then.I had thought that I would see an elderly Bengali blogger with thick glasses but I found someone just the opposite.

I’m a lazy reader with a very short concentration span and if I could read a post in one go and love it, I knew I was there to stay. I faintly remember that first post I read here was on Parveen Babi.

Later I read a post on Mithun Chakravarti. I wanted to show this post to all those friends who chided me for being a Mithun fan. There are so many posts which tell me that there is someone who thinks like me and can tell it so well.So even when, there is a lot of work pending and I land at The Ganga Mail, the posts like Simpler Times , and 'No.70 Memory lane'and This hold my hand and pull me. 

Like that working mom, it’s impossible to resist the sweet smell and the soft hug.

Mom's Diary-4

"Can I change it incase my parents like it"? A teenager asking a salesman.Sounds familiar to me.

Before you know, your kids who are afraid of entering a darkroom and have to jump to switch-on the light, are taller than you and scare youwith their hairstyle, attitude and philosophy.

The conversation, gesture and words we see and hear are sodifferent now from the times when I was ateenager, which does not look too distant,to me at least.

There are various ‘Those awkward moments’ e.g. when I’mcaught unconsciously singing a song from‘my times’ which has only rhyme and no reason, and Coldplay fans see each otherand say ‘mummy please..’

Eavesdrop and I get a lot of stuff to laugh at.
Her friend answered her message "you are 48 kg and I’m 52..Oh I wd die of obesity.”

My son's friend's father asked him ,"There is a missed call in ur cell. Divya,who is she?
Promptly came the answer.
It’s not Divyaa it’s Divy,a boy. In English it becomes DivyA.
-But why lie?
-Why drag the conversation? And she is just a friend.
One day when hubby blurted,‘WHY I met your mother?” In a lighter vein I wondered aloud that what if we were married to different persons respectively. Pat came the reaction,
“Mummy,Don’t just invalidate my entire existence.”

“Nice words she chooses” I thought.

They hate the author I adore.
I have to read the newspaper of their choice.

If they irritate me with their way of life, I too try their patience by repeatedly getting stuck while using comp, mobile, handy cam other gadgets.‘

And Sometimes I’m chided, when I’m told ,
"switch off the comp, it’s 1.30 am.

All moms avoid arguments knowing they would lose. Still they take place. And mine usually end up with something like,
“Mummy, you must read Ayn Rand."

Amidst discussions (read arguments), laughter, occasional smoot and often turbulent sailing, sharing secrets, I console myself that there is something common amongst us. But the very next moment I realize that I have still a long way to go when we would think alike.

That day ,I retired for my afternoon siesta with my Vaio.While surfing for a book, an author suggested in her ‘must read’ list for a married woman ,I reached at Flipcart.com. We were new to online shopping then.I got the book I was looking for.I kept filling the blanks thinking in the end it will deny as I did not write my credit card details. When I pressed cash on delivery, the order was placed. Was not happy with what I did.I wanted to browse more before placing the order. But the book looked good so it was ok.Feeling a bit foolish I came out of my room and found her there with similar expressions.

I was told that she has placed an order in a site called Flipcart.She thought without giving Credit card number the order will not be placed. It happened accidentally. “ I didn’t even ask you”.and the regret is if I had to place the order I would hv broused more.The book is good though.

At least something in common is there between us. I sighed.

Thank you Flippy (Flipcart) .