Woes of motherhood

I am a mother, and seriously, it is “Not” the greatest job in the world. There are so many things about motherhood that I do not agree with.

For example: You know how every woman says that popping a child out of her womb was the happiest, most joyful moment in her life. It s all bullshit, I tell you….bulllllshittt!

How can labor of anywhere between 10 to 40 hours, where every 30 seconds you bear unimaginable pain, be the most joyful moment of your life?

And guess what, it doesn’t end there, it is followed by 365 days of sleepless nights, sleepless days, and a complete transformation from a young nubile woman to a misshapen ghost. Oh and dark circles are best experienced in motherhood.

So yes, I have been a mom for 7 years now, and guess what, in the last 7 years, there have only been 5-6 such occasions where I have been able to dwell in my bath for more than 15 minutes.

My standard 5 minute time to poop is usually interrupted atleast 5 times with my kids, banging, scratching, pushing or generally whining at the bathroom door.

Toilet paper is the most in demand commodity in my house. Sometimes, I feel my kids don’t use it, they consume it like candy.

And the best part of it all when you say “No”, it just means your kids will start hanging on to you like a sloth and repeating their request with a prefix and postfix of “Pleeeeaaaaasssseee!”

Let’s not forget being judged; especially by these pesky non-parents who seem to believe they have their parenting philosophy down to a “T”.

When my son greets them with a, “Hi”, they make a face and respond with “Good morning Siddharth!”. I should tell them that you are the lucky one, my son actually bothered to raise his head from the ipad, while he is midst of finishing the final level of Shark Attack.

But of course, you pesky non-parents would not get that. You would judge me for using the ipad as a convenient baby sitter and a source of entertainment. Well, judge all you want, you would thank smart phone and tablet manufacturers when you join the motherhood bandwagon.

Oh and let’s talk about those unrealistically perfect mother’s who give no junk food to their kids and limit recreational/TV viewing hours to 30 minutes a day. I want to ask them something, seriously, don’t you have a life. Don’t you want to do really important and meaningful stuff when your child is glued to the TV? For example: Bitch about your mother in law to your best friend, or discuss that annoyingly perfect mom at school, who is always prim, wears Versace and carries Louis Vitton. Hell, even her child’s school bag is a Tommy.

Perhaps, the most annoying part about motherhood are the grandparents. They seem to know exactly what needs to be done when. As if they have raised perfect specimens of mankind. Case in point, yours truly!

If you think motherhood is scary by now, you haven’t experienced the scariest part yet. When finally after 2 years you visit a club with friends or spouse, only because your parents or inlaws have grudgingly agreed to babysit your monsters. You will see a bunch of 17 something girls drunk and falling all over the place, a bunch of 17 something boys, running around carrying 2 of these drunk girls in each arms and there would be whispers of ecstasy and LSD. Your heart would stop, your eyes would be wide, and you will promise yourself that next month you are moving to a convent with your kids and never looking back.

So yes, I am a mother,

My house will never be spot less, it will be rife with toys. So watch your step.

I know you are very affectionate towards my children, but if you wake them, you take them.

I will always be tired, and if I am taking a nap, don’t you dare wake me, lest you want to experience the fire-breathing dragon.

I will whip up a meal in half an hour; it will not be gourmet, it will not be healthy either. But you better not make a face.

And finally, bear in mind, if you say a single unsavory word about my kids, you ex-girlfriend/stalker would be the least of your problems.

Living a lie

The crowd rose for a thundering applause. Devika, couldn't help grinning from one ear to another. This is it, this was her day. She had finally released her book called "Super moms", it was an inspirational guide for working mother’s to create that perfect work life balance.

The amphitheater, where she stood and spoke, felt like home to her, and the scores of adoring crowd, her family. Once she finished giving autographs and answering countless questions, Devika was more exhilarated than exhausted. It was time to go home.

Devika entered her living room only to find Tia’s toys all over the house, her 5 year old was still running around in school uniform at 10:00 pm. Following her was, James, Devika’s husband and Tojo, their Labrador.

James saw Devika and stopped, “Finally home, is it? We have been waiting for you to come and give us dinner.”

“You haven’t eaten yet, didn’t Sharada cook?”

“Yes, she did. But its egg and we are in mood to eat chicken, aren’t we Tia?”

Tia, nodded her head in eagerly, “Yummm chickennnn!”

Devika, dredged herself to the kitchen. As she cooked, James went on with a list of complaints.

“Tia’s, teacher says, she needs to practice spellings. With this silly feministic book of yours, you seem to have forgotten your daughter. And when will you take her to the dentist, am I supposed to do everything. Don’t I take care of the house, Tia and Tojo when you have to go for these stupid talks…Don't youvforget are a housewife before being an author.
Devika, are you even listening to me….atleast acknowledge?!”

James walked off in exasperation, “I feel like I am talking to the walls....Oh and take Tojo for a walk.”

Devika was too exhausted to argue, she finished and took Tojo for a walk. She kept thinking about how the whole world could understand her, except for her own husband. It made her miserable that she couldn’t even follow a single tip from her own guide.

As she walked the empty street, Tojo started barking. Devika felt a sliver of fear when she made out someone standing in a dark corner. As that person, stepped out in the light, she realized it was Devika herself. It was like looking into a mirror.

The doppelgänger spoke one sentence before disappearing, ”So, how does it feel to live a lie, Supermom?”

And Devika couldn’t help but break into bitter tears.

The Door

The Door made its presence known on a perfect day. It was mother’s 40^th birthday and she expected a grand celebration. Nothing could take the focus away from mother, except for the Door maybe. Perhaps, it was that sadistic streak which made the Door appear on that eventful summer morning.

Father, I and Bren woke up early, we ran to Mrs. Tully, our neighbor, and sneaked the cake inside our house. Of course we couldn’t have hidden mother’s 40^th birthday cake in our refrigerator; she would have known. We decorated the cake with candles; none of us would dare put all 40 candles, so we settled for 20, and wrote, “20 in every which way”. That should cheer mother up.

We arranged the living room with balloons and stars. And when we were ready, father brought a groggy mother out into the living room. I say groggy because apparently mother was being naughty at 40 last night.

As expected, mother was absolutely delighted, soon her delight turned into surprise, shock and mortification. And she kept staring at me.

Okay that was creepy, but then I saw father and Bren also staring at me the same way, until I realized they were staring at something behind me. My mind ran a list of things that could possibly be standing there, from man eating lions to killer clowns from outer space, from Emily Rose to the Wicked Witch of the west, from Ted Bundy to Freddy.

“Mishka, honey why don’t you come over here?” Mother finally spoke, and implored with her stretched hands. Yes, that sounded like a good plan, to turn around while I was standing there in the safe circle of my family. I ran to mother, and looked.

It was inconspicuous, it was inconsequential to my vivid expectations, it was a door. A door that was never there for the last 15 years that I had lived in that house and in this world. It just stood there innocent, a brown polished door that could only be opened from the other side.

Instantly “The Door” became a smash hit in our neighborhood, perhaps more of a hit than its namesake band. People from across the neighborhood and our extended family came to visit, and ruminate over the Door.

There were theories, some sane, some insane. Uncle Martin felt, that the Door was a gateway to hell, and the Devil chose our home for it, since we have not attended the Sunday mass in the last 5 years. Of course, mother then ranted on about the benefits of embracing Scientology as a religion. When Tom Cruise doesn’t have a gateway to hell in his mansion, why should we? What can I say, the argument seemed legitimate!

Mrs. Tully, felt that the Door led to the garden outside, our family, along with 100 other people just cant see it.

My friends and I thought that the Door was a wormhole and should it open; the entire world would get sucked into it.

Bren, expected zombies infected with the T-Virus to walk in through the door; and that’s why he always armed himself with his baseball bat.

People tried breaking down the door, and the wall around it. Even a wrecking ball couldn’t touch the Door. Finally, we gave up and as months went by and nothing went in or came out of the Door, it became business as usual and we started ignoring it.

Life went on, until one summer evening. After a year of ignoring the newest member of our household, The Door, it happened. I reached home that evening, only to be welcomed by mother’s excited chattering.

“It opened, Mishka. It opened.” What?!! Finally the Door opens.

I ran inside and mother followed. I saw father, Bren and Mishka standing there near the Door. Wait, Mishka? I was Mishka. But she looked just like me. My stomach sank and I slowly turned around to see the bodies of my real Mother, Father and Bren lying near the dining area. Mother or that woman who looked like mother, spoke with a wide evil grin on her face, “You are next.”

The Door shimmered out of existence.

If witches ruled...

So this was my first attempt at Alternative history, and I couldn't help but imagine, what could have happened had thousands of witches not been hunted and burned at stake in early 16th century.

“Muriel, I need the love potion you gave Ashthi”, my patron stood across the counter and asked me. But I couldn’t just give her the love potion.

With great witchcraft, comes great responsibility.

“Why do you need it Runa, didn’t you just take one last month for, what was that boy’s name, Aryan, isn’t it?” I asked her.

“Yeah, but now I am bored of Aryan, and he is all love struck, done it all to please me. This time, it is the mail man, Pasha. He seems quite a catch.” Runa’s eyes light up with excitement and desire. She obviously was bored of her last month’s love slave and needed another distraction. But I wasn’t going to provide her with the love potion.

Yes, they were just men. And yes they served few non-intellectual purposes like lifting weights, making love, running errands and giving us our precious baby girls. There would sometimes be boys, but those boys were given to wet nurses and sent to the palaces to be raised as love slaves. And yes, even if it felt wrong to treat them as slaves, there wasn’t much that could be done. It was after all the way of the world.

What I did not understand for the life of me, was when asked to think differently, they would look and that’s it, just look like they had the thinking capacity of a sparrow! I had heard stories about smart men, intelligent men, Alexander the great, King Arthur but that was all before the 16^th century. All before witches of the world took over the reigns and men lost the capacity to exercise their brain.

So yes back to Runa, while Pasha would serve his purpose for Runa, it was wrong for Runa to want so much. After all greed and lust were the ancient sins.

“Sorry Runa, you know the drill. One love potion for one man. And that has got to last for at least 3 months.” I responded to Runa, who made a face and stomped out of my store.

Ufff, these new rules made by the new Queen of witches were too much to abide by. We had heard rumors about a man in the Queen’s service who was a wizard, and the Queen was in love with him.  This was the reason for all those pro – men rules. These rules did not go down well with most of the world. Already there was a rebel uprising in whole of Europe and India.

“Love” a woman falling in love with a man was unheard of, and that too a wizard.

Wizard’s were a small species of men who were respected by witches because they were as well versed in magic as we Witches were, but the Wizard population was dwindling. They were one by one being hunted down by a secret society of witches who felt that men had only one purpose and that was one of a slave.

This secret society went by the name of “Kooreetsi”, it began in the later 17^th century and were lorded over by a panel of 7 fierce and powerful witches, who were also referred to as elders. Every 100 years the reigns of power passed on to the chosen 7. The 7 were chosen from a lineage of pure blood witches and after years of rigorous training.  Each one of these 7 had to prove mastery over 5 elements before they were declared as elders. And their identity remained a secret from every one including the bottom ring of the “Kooreetsi” society. The elders were not just responsible for taking crucial decisions in running of the “Kooreetsi” society but also were especially trained in taking down and hunting of the most powerful wizards.

I looked outside and realized it was dark already. Time to shut shop and go home. As I was about to pull down the shutters, a Raven came flying towards me and dropped a sealed envelope. I instantly knew where the letter came from. My hands shivered in excitement as I opened the letter.

There were just two lines written on it:

Hunter: Elder Muriel

Hunted: Wizard Dragan

With a crazy grin on my face, and the lust of my next hunt literally making me salivate I ran to the resource room in the basement of my 2 storied home. A cozy abode that alternated between a ground floor store and 1st floor living quarters.

The weapons room was filled with spell books, potions, swords, axes, guns, poisonous knives and my most prized possession, Rhys, my pet boa constrictor. A wizard can’t possibly incant spells when Rhys is increasingly choking his throat now, can he? Oh how many of those, nasty men who called themselves men of magic suffocated to the grip of Rhys. Rhys loved me and I loved him and the best part of having Rhys with me was that I was never lonely.

When I became the Elder, Rhys was my gift. Blessed with the power of speech he was a young 6 days old Boa who would wail consistently for either milk or a frog. But I raised him and I have loved him ever since first set eyes upon the tiny, scaly green shiny delight.

It took me around 2 hours to collect all my weapons and magic books, potions and poisons and dump them in the bottomless bag. Before I could ask, Rhys wrapped himself around my neck and I teleported us to the nearest “Warp”.

“Warps” were this elite mode of travel, reserved only for witches and wizards. They could teleport you to any part of the world in an instant.

I stood outside the warp looking up at the night sky and the giant columns where every single inch was carved with incantations.

I cut my veins and allowed the blood to flow through the channels that led inside the warp and invoked the spell of teleportation.

“Ut ducem luna et requies lucis,

Oh ianuam, ut me semper in – Pragae”

I saw a light forming in the dark recesses of the “Warp”, I waited in anticipation for the light to engulf me and pull me in, for what I knew would be the greatest adventure of my life.

“Muriel, I have always hated teleportation, it ruffles my scales.” Rhys spoke in a tone that sounded suspiciously like fear.

“Don’t be a wuss, Rhys. 5 -4 -3 -2 -1….Wohoooo here we goooooooo!” and we were sucked into the bright vortex.

I am you..

They entered through the main door, the woman and her two daughters. With flowing white togas, clinched at the waist, they looked like the ray of sunshine, I had been waiting for God knows how long.

“Mother, is this where we will live?” The younger one with golden locks, and the face of an angel spoke up.

The woman looked around with and expression of sorrow mixed with disdain.

“Yes, Runa this is our home now.”

The girls ran around the small home, which took not more than 10 steps to cover from one end to another. It was a stone house with low white ceilings and claustrophobic white walls. The only place divided was the bathroom with a cane door. The kitchen, bedroom and sitting area were seamless in this small home with no divisions.

Another entered through the main door, a priestess with religious symbols tattooed all over her arms and shaved head. She walked around the ten steps and crossed the length of this humble abode. She stopped right under the roof, where there was a small hole to stream sunlight through. She cocked her head towards the right, looked up at the roof, let the breeze from above wash over her shining and tattooed baldness and looked at the mother.

“This place is cursed!” she spoke.

“Cursed?! But we have to live here, there is no where else to go.” Said the woman in absolute despair, holding her two girls.

“I did not say that you have to move.” Said the priestess. “There is a restless spirit haunting this place, we need to get rid of it.”

“How do we do that?” asked the woman with tears in her eyes.

“We prepare for the ritual now, I have everything with me. I will need your help to set things up.”

They then set about to prepare for the ritual, and while I waited to write what comes next; I decided to look for the restless spirit. How difficult would it be to find a ghost in a house that can be covered in just 10 long strides? I looked in the bathroom first, nothing, went to the kitchen area, nothing, went to where they started the ritual and there standing in the watering hole. I saw her.

She did not belong here, this house was now theirs, the woman and her two girls and she needed to go.

I could hear the priestess chanting in the background, she had drawn strange religious symbols all over the wall and lit a fire in the centre of the house. She believed that only with the combustion of fire and water will the spirit leave this house.

As her voice grew louder, so did the fire become larger and thunder rolled outside.

The priestess came over to the watering hole to fill up the round vessel. I knew that when she does that final act of pouring water over fire, this soul would disappear from the house.

Shouldn’t I ask her, if she was ready to go? I looked back her, and she seemed scared. For a moment I felt pity, but then i realised that the dead have no place here in my story. This story was about the woman and her girls.

I gathered courage and asked her, “Are you ready to go?”

She spoke in tiny voice, “I don’t know. “

“You don’t have a choice, you can’t be a part of this tale” I reprimanded her.

I looked behind me, the priestess was poised with the vessel to pour water over fire and vanquish this ghost.

But wait, shouldn’t I ask her who she is, and how did she come into my tale.

I looked back at her and asked, “Who are you?”

And as I finished my sentence, I felt excruciating pain throughout my body, as if someone was trying to rip my very essence into shreds.

The priestess had poured water on fire, and the ghost spoke, “I am you.”

She

As I open my eyes to this new world, I see her. I see her in a sea of faces,

Her face shining like a fiery beacon amidst the ocean of eyes, nose and lips.

She comes close, her breath against mine is fresh and sweet like the air that gives me life.

She holds me close and we enter water together, all my fears of death by drowning are laid to rest.

Later, lying down on the ground, she lies next to me, and as she looks into my eyes, earth stands still,

A moment stretched unto eternity,

She is supreme, she is magical, she holds sway over the all elements,

And I am supposed to call her Maa.

- for you Mumma

The raven

August 10th:

Dear diary,
Something really strange happened today. I spotted this raven at my bedroom window staring at me intensely. It wasn’t the first time either, I have seen this raven around almost daily, and only today I realised it is the same fella everyday. And I know this because there is a small white scratch on his beak. Could it be David? Could his soul have come back from the dead?
Or am I reading too much into it?

P.S: You do know today will mark a year since David left me.

August 21st:

Dear diary,
I am sure the raven is David, and I will tell you why. Remember that Paediatrician I met at the socials last week, he asked me out. And as I laid out my first date dress on the bed, you know, the red one. David’s favourite! The raven came and pooped on it. It entered my bedroom sat on the bed and pooped on the red dress! If this doesn’t convince you that David has come back to me…then nothing will.

August 30th:

Dear diary,
I am so happy today, I and David had coffee in the balcony, just like old times. I made mine strong and gave David some milk. Oh I discovered that this new David loves my chicken pops just like the old one. When I clean the house and dust the surfaces, David does the same on his window sill. He removes all dust particles using his beak. His soul is still the same. He is my David, even his habits are the same.

I am in love all over again!

September 15th:

Diary,

David has not been coming daily anymore. I wonder where he goes. Do you think he goes to see her, be with her, just like he used to? I thought he came back for me! That bastard, can’t he let go of her and just be mine. I need to know where he goes, I need to follow him, diary. I must make him mine again.

September 20th:

I saw him, I saw him sitting on the window sill of her apartment looking in, watching them. It was a raven and I know it was David. That lying, cheating, traitorous man! He promised me, he swore that he will be mine and only mine.

September 22nd:

Dear Diary,

I am happy again. Oh so happy, I have been listening to Angus & Julia Stone in a loop since morning. David is back home, he is mine again. He has fulfilled his promise and left his wife and children forever.
Guess what, diary?
All it took was a rat poison and a taxidermist!