Alternate Reality

I am living in an alternative reality. I am a captive in a dark alley. They passed by, like bees waiting to sting. I could hear their buzzing. But how would I know which one would strike? Nobody knew. They had no pattern.

I crouched closer to the wall, hugging the shadows. Dawn was breaking; then they would come for me, unless I ran. I looked down at my feet. When was the last time I ran? I biked faster than I ran. Heck, I could fall asleep faster. No, I had to think of something else. If only…

It feels like eons ago, but it was only yesterday. Or is time playing tricks with me in this parallel universe? I told him, “Please don’t put my bike like that, it has fallen once.” As always, he ignored me. “Imagine your mother’s voice instead of mine.” That would get his attention. Nada. And so it fell. None of us heard or felt it. We kept driving into the depths of darkness, the other two bikes intact. I was furious. But what good would that do? I tried to imagine its fate. I hope it didn’t cause an accident; it was too dark for the cars whizzing by.

I shook myself out of those thoughts. And then the world changed. We couldn’t go out without fear, a constant companion. I see friends return to civilization, one by one. I stay put, waiting for signs. My tribe is dwindling. I feel disoriented, like I am in the wrong place, we all are. Now here I am, lurking in the dark. Waiting, watching. It will come, slithering in the cold and swallow us whole.

Trials and Tribulations of City Life

When you live in New York City, or any city for that matter, you sign away your privacy. Many eyes are watching.

I moved into a 4th floor walk-up. It was a beaten-down building, one of a few left in the meat market. Someone had decided that “meat market” was the new cool, and retailers looking for the next fad moved in. The block was striped with Theory, DVF, Caudalie, Bumble & Bumble, Calypso, you name it. And more were coming. My building, by contrast, was a shabby print of the past history of its neighborhood.

I heard scurrying upstairs. Did I invest in a rat-infested building? Am I going to live with the bearer of plague? I called the Super. “Its the cute dog upstairs,” he chuckled. “We have no rats.” I was relieved.

The windows faced South, it was a corner building. Every morning sunlight washed the whole apartment, and every evening the rooms had a soft sunset glow. It was in dire need of an upgrade. Paint was peeling, and the wallpaper look like stained betel leaf.

I hired a Greek contractor “highly recommended” from someone who had never dealt with him, I learned from his wife later. To my dismay he was very opinionated; the ink wasn’t even dry on the contract. He started construction. It drowned out the noise around me.

I got a strange-looking envelope in the mail. If you receive as much junk mail as I do, you would know that nobody sends hand-written envelopes. Nobody. Try writing a letter, I dare you to. Once you start typing there is no going back. Amidst all the welcome coupons and catalogs that would find their way straight into the garbage, I spied a handwritten letter peeking at me. There it was, with my name and address written in Script. I opened it with trepidation. Was it a surprise refund from the IRS? Did I win something from the magazine cut-outs I keep sending? Had my luck finally turned? Was it a “Thank You” note?

I tried to decipher the writing. This is why people mustn’t write anymore! I finally unraveled the secret. The dog upstairs was depressed due to my construction noise, so I had to submit a schedule for noise levels for the dog to be removed from the apartment. The city’s construction had vets working overtime! He was on medication thanks to me. Or was it due to his owners’ fights? Oh yes, I heard them every night.

I am not much of a dog-person. I have read too many horror stories of dogs ripping kids to shreds, and I would be wary of one. But people treat their dogs like kids, nay, even better! Someone told me, “why don’t you pay for the dog’s therapy and medication?” Do I look like I pluck money from a tree? Do you think I have a secret Gringotts-guarded vault for my invisible treasures?

The next day I got into a fight with my next-door neighbor. He said I ruined the “beauty” of the hallway by putting some boxes outside. I told him I would take them in good time. I got a call from the Super. Moving to New York city is like moving to high school, or worse, Kindergarten. Your neighbors tell on you. I was getting notorious too. My neighbor smoked like an engine. He got a call from the Super too. Score!

The building was near a hotel. I could see inside every single room. I have seen couples fighting, people in birthday suits leaving the shower, you name it. The ugly naked guy in Friends? We all have one!

Music drifted through my bathroom vent. Sometimes piano, sometimes violin. I finally had background music for my bathroom singing.

Last month when I opened the door, a new neighbor’s puppy ran inside and started chasing the kids. The polite neighbor stood outside, unsure. The more the kids ran, the more the puppy chased. My visiting friend remarked, “I didn’t know you had a puppy.” “I don’t”. Just a month prior her daughter had to get shots due to a dog-bite. The neighbor finally broke all norms and came in to retrieve her puppy.

I don’t live here now, only visit. I went back last week and saw a neighbor sanitize vegetables before bringing them in. I gave her a knowing smile through my mask. We are all in this together!

Patriarchy

It’s a patriarchal society. I worry about the space my boys will occupy. Will they learn to respect women? Do you parent or behave a certain way to teach boys respect? There aren’t many role models.

I grew up in a girls’ school and quickly learned that you always stand by your friends no matter what, you always stand by your girlfriends. The real world is different. I haven’t inspired that kind of loyalty in my current friends. It’s more prominent when you decide to become a primary caregiver. When a man achieves something, everyone around him praises him and asks, “aren’t you proud of him?” Everyone. Because there is a tangible. What is my tangible?

Motherhood is a thankless job. Kids don’t come with a manual. There is always something they will find wrong with your parenting. I am happy, don’t get me wrong. But I am unappreciated. Will anyone say, “thank you for taking care of the family so we could all pursue our dreams,” or will it be, “it was your choice, you didn’t have to stay home.” Don’t I deserve accolades for holding down the fort while someone else pursues his dreams? Will you do the same for my dreams?

A shrink says, “a man is attending therapy sessions, that in itself is an achievement.” Why does this apply to only men? Are they perpetuating this chauvinism since it is harder to change society? They say behind every successful man is a woman. Nobody believes or expresses that, it is just a saying to pacify feminists.

Is success only governed by money? Does happiness count? Sacrifice? Choice? I feel it more now. Even girlfriends treat you like secondary to the man. As someone said in a movie, “the very fact that you think your wife needs your permission, says it all.” What is my tangible?

Lost in the Wilderness

I stood there all alone, big boulders towering over me. I wasn’t really alone; I had a friend, but she was so little. She was crying. I had to be responsible. I was only seven. And lost. We walked a long way all alone. I look at my sleeping seven year olds, and shudder to think of a similar fate. I would die! I kept thinking that a lion would jump out and attack us. “Don’t cry,” I said to her. But her tears wouldn’t stop. I held her hand tight. Not a soul in sight. Not even a bird or a bee. There were no stray dogs in the mountains. Which way is back? Or front? And so we kept walking. Now it is more developed. We would have seen a person, or a shop, or hotel, or a car. But back then it was deserted like a jungle. Over thirty years ago, to be precise. Was I scared? Only of a lion, or a wild animal. I had heard they were lurking around. Two little girls would make an easy dinner. Someone had spied a cheetah in those parts, or was it a panther? Or just my imagination?

Did I get us in this mess? Was it my fault? We heard water dripping. There were lots of waterfalls there. It was a popular honeymoon destination; for my parents too. We kept moving. We had left to find our parents. We thought they had gone, and we had to find them. We should have never left.

It was getting dark now. Would we have to sleep near the rocks? Would we wake up in a belly? My reassurances to her fell like hail on a bright sunny day. I think back now and recall sloping roads waiting to be swallowed by looming mountains. “The Aravallis” they called them, the oldest mountain range in the world. But to me they looked like a lion’s den. I walked faster. “Just a little more,” I told her. “We are almost there. I remember the way.”

We saw a man returning home with his empty cart after a long day at work. He saw us, me holding a weeping six year old’s hand, asking if he had seen our parents. “You see,” I said, mimicking my father, “we have lost them.” “Which school do you go to, beta?” he asked. “I don’t know, we just arrived today.” “Is it Sophia, the girls’ school?” “Maybe, I think so.” “I know Sister Bernardine. Come with me.” He put us on his cart. We were tired but I preferred to walk. I was too old to sit on a cart!

He took us home. It was a humble hut, not too big, a bit shabby. His wife seemed kind. He prayed and gave us prasad, white sugar chips. We had not eaten. Now I never head out without snacks or water, and always remind my kids to stay hydrated. None of that back then.

Darkness wrapped us in her arms. We walked a long way till we sighted faint city lights, flickering in the fog. He took us to school. Our parents were waiting. Everything was a blur after that. They told us we were lost for four hours. Was it really that long? They thought we were playing in the garden while they counted our clothes. We thought they had left without saying goodbye. Mom said they had to bribe the police officers with alcohol. Our parents had to leave us at the boarding school that night. Everyone told me the school was very good. It was new. And cold, very cold.

I never saw the kind man again. Those were simpler times. It is scary out there now. I wish I could repay him. I hope he had a good life.

My Grandma

I remember her face. I didn’t know much about her. I wish I had spent more time getting to know her. She was there every summer, a quiet presence, watching over me, teaching me, almost like a mother. She taught me a new language. I used to lay down every night and listen to her read the Bhagwad Gita. Yet when she passed I didn’t go. I had reasons. It was too far. I didn’t have to go. I couldn’t really “see her”. My mother didn’t insist. I had not seen her in some years. Time passed. I moved on. But every now and then, I think of her, and a vast wave of wistfulness washes over. I wish I had gone to see her one last time. I wish I had gotten to know her. What was it like moving during the partition? What was her life like back then? Was she happy? I want to reach out to the little girl and tell her to go back home and get to know her. Death is too final.

Exercise Bike, or anything really

I put it near the entrance. Every time he comes in, he sees it. I can almost hear him think, “you don’t use it. You made me assemble it and now you don’t use it.” I tune him out, a newly-acquired skill from motherhood. Now I won’t use it just to spite him. And so I go about my days and months, and every now and then I look at it. I still haven’t used it. I know it bothers him. Visitors see it and ask, “Who uses it?” He leaves no stone unturned to share his plight. I laugh it off. I intend to use it. Last month while clearing out the cobwebs, I decide to try it, just to see how it feels. I do it again and again. He has since found something else to complain about. I tune him out.

Soul Cycle

I love to spin and bike. Spin classes have always been my favorite. I love the music, biking is so much easier on the knees, and you get to strengthen your muscles and burn a lot of calories in 45 mins.

One of my friends talked me into doing a Soul Cycle class at 6:30am. I am not a morning person. Not at all. I set the alarm and keep snoozing till it is time to get the kids ready for school. So I didn’t wake up and didn’t go. I decided to try one class at my time, and if I liked it enough, it would be motivation enough to wake up.

I tried one. OMG!!! It was in a small dark room with loud blaring music. I was not expecting that. So many people love it and swear by it, but I had no idea! They closed the doors, the room felt a bit warm to make people sweat more I guess. I have never done a spin class with clip ons, I just don’t like them. But here that was all they had. So I borrowed a pair. The clip ons had zero arch support so my right foot hurt like hell and I could not do any adjustments. The music was super loud, and the instructor had to speak louder through the mike to be heard. Within 15 minutes I was feeling claustrophobic but didn’t want to quit. So I kept going. I saw two small weights in the bike in front of me. Holy shit! Would they make us do weights on the bike itself?

Anyway, it was hard, very hard. I love spin and didn’t expect it to be this hard. After another 15 minutes I could not take the loud music anymore. I started thinking of how late I had slept the night prior, how I had skipped my lunch and had a smoothie instead, maybe that is why I could not continue. The instructor had a candle by his bike. Already the room felt hot, there was limited oxygen with doors closed and room so dark, now I had to share my oxygen with a candle!!!

I felt the pain in my right foot acutely. Every time the instructor spoke, I thought my ear drums would burst. That is when I decided to walk out. So I struggled to get the clipped shoes out. I had no idea what to do. The instructor asked me to just leave the shoes there and velcro my feet out of them. So I did.

Outside the manager and another employee showed a lot of concern. They were super nice which is such an anomaly in New York. I mentioned how claustrophobic I got and the music was just too loud. My ears would not stop ringing. I had a headache. They credited me for the ride and told me I should use ear buds next time, and all Soul Cycle rooms are dark.

On a positive note, I had class that was a third full. Imagine if I had attended a popular class!!! My calves feel like lead so obviously something worked. My friend is now talking me into going to one class with her, she really likes her instructor. Maybe I will make the trek in the morning and use ear buds this time. Maybe it won’t be so bad on my foot, I will wear compression socks or something. I have that credit to use on my account.

I ended up reading about it after my experience. Many people recommend doing at least three sessions before deciding to stop. But I just cannot work out in a dark room.

After Soul Cycle, I walked outside, it was super hot. I went right into Mercedes Club for a swim. It was such a refreshing change. The club was bright, airy, and open, no dark areas. And the pool had skylight. The gym was cool, pun intended. I felt like I could finally breathe. It was just such a refreshing change from Soul Cycle. I don’t know if I can start my mornings in a warm dark room with blaring music.

Apples of my eyes

My adorable boys are 2 years old, a big milestone. I see changes in them everyday. They are learning and growing, learning to be more expressive and empathetic. Today Aadi didn’t want me to cut his nail but obliged with his father. I was a little upset and felt like why doesn’t he want his mom to do it anymore, and AM was a bit nervous since he has never done it. So he wanted me to do it. I looked at Aadi feeling a bit upset, he gave me his charming adorable smile which I didn’t return showing that I was upset, his smile faded which broke my heart, as I was going to reach out to him to make him feel that it is ok, he looked at me and walked over to me and gave me his hands to cut his nails. My heart melted and I teared up a bit, wondering if I am teaching him to put himself second and feeling a tad guilty about it, but also feeling so nice like he cares about my feelings. He is only two but understands everything. It was just so sweet, I can’t stop thinking about it and feeling a burning in my heart for having caused him any little pain that made his smile fade, and yet feeling wanted and loved by him.

Motherhood has changed me in so many ways. Previously, kids seemed like such a nuisance. Now, when I see kids throwing tantrums I feel for the parents and I like children in general. Somehow parenthood unites you like nothing else. Before motherhood, I nit-picked about people; now, I get along with a lot of parents on the common ground that my kids are happy with their kids. You kind of feel like in the same boat and supportive of each other. I didn’t expect motherhood to change me so much. I also find pleasure in small things, like recognizing words my kids are learning, small things that make them smile like a lollipop (wowwipop), excitement in going to the zoo and showing them different animals and teaching them in general. I am learning to be very patient, and my toddlers, both of them, test my patience to the maximum. I am trying to change a lot just to deal with tantrums better. It is easy to just walk out or yell back, but a lot harder to just try to understand them, take a deep breath, and be patient. But I am happy, in a way I never was in my job or any other relationship. I feel truly happy!

MIA

I have been MIA for a long time, writing a blog requires a lot of motivation. Maybe I should commit to one!

So much has been going on in my life. I will cover each of these in detail, because living in NY is crazy, but with kids it is even more crazy! In my third trimester I found out that I was having twins, twin boys no less, and now they are almost 2. It has been a roller coaster ride. Having one child is hard, twins is three times hard because you have the same number of people managing two! I want to get back into writing my blog, so I will choose one topic each time and cover it at length.

Alexander Wang for Balenciaga

Alexander Wang for Balenciaga

It has been so long since I last wrote! I am hoping to make writing a regular part of my day now that I don’t have an official job.

I have been getting into designer handbags in a big way. I LOVE fashion like most people, and have always been interested in designer and regular clothing. But of late I have really gotten into handbags. More about that later.

I LOVE LOVE Alexander Wang. His designs are minimalistic with subtle use of hardware. His bags have a very structured look, as do his clothes. Most of his handbags are accessorized with minimal hardware in interesting places, very very subtle looking, but they add a “pop” to the bags. He is also very creative with flexibility in the ways in which a bag can be worn. His Marion Prisma bag uses sleek rose gold hardware to add a touch of color. The white Diego bucket bag has colorful studs. The Lia messenger bag has studs at the bottom, very subtle and attractive. His bags are not always practical though. The Lia messenger bag is very very stiff and while that helps maintain shape, you can’t put as much into it even though the size is good. 

Balenciaga recently got him on as designer. Balenciaga and Wang have very different aesthetics, so this marriage doesn’t fully make sense. On further probe though they target a very similar customer. Both have “rocker chic” looks. Balenciaga’s motorcycle bags are very popular, they have a very different look from Wang. Lots of zippers, tiny tassles, very “out there” and busy. Wang’s looks are very minimalistic with pops of color using studs and other hardware. Both target “rockers”. From that perspective it makes sense. It also allows Balenciaga to move into unchartered territory, and make a name for itself in bags other than motorcycle-looking ones; there are only so many similar bags that women will buy.

Wang’s new bags for Balenciaga are very minimalistic, practical, and attractive. They have a very understated look. They leather is EXCELLENT! I tried out a few in Bergdorf’s and am in love. The leather is soft, designs very interesting, the very look is sophisticated and structured. Clean lines, subtle hardware. I am very excited to see where Wang takes Balenciaga next.