A tight-rope walk!

Working mothers-- be it you , me or Facebook's COO  Sheryl Sandberg, we all are sailing in the same boat.  The difference its just that she has reached such a pedestal that she can go around and talk about it openly unlike you and me who would think thousand times before doing so.Yes, when you are a mother your priorities change nevertheless exceptions are always there. The moment you start feeling your child in the womb and more so, when you embrace your baby for the first time, the word 'Mamma' takes a toll over all ambitions and aspirations of climbing the corporate ladder.

I don't know why I always thought working mothers feel more secure and at ease in the west with a more permissive work-culture and  creche facilities in the office premises itself,  among others. May be that's why  when some one like Sandberg who has been ranked one of the fifty "Most Powerful Women in Business" by Fortune Magazine ever since 2008  revealed , "I walk out of this office every day at 5:30 so I’m home for dinner with my kids at 6:00, and interestingly, I’ve been doing that since I had kids,” Sandberg says. ”I did that when I was at Google, I did that here, and I would say it’s not until the last year, two years that I’m brave enough to talk about it publicly. Now I certainly wouldn’t lie, but I wasn’t running around giving speeches on it ” , I was surprised and felt relieved thinking that a COO is giving me company ;) in burning the candles at both ends. Sometimes I feel that a working mother is a living pendulum, again controlled by the needles of a clock.

 If you decide to quit the job to be a full-time mommy then you are looked down upon for not being competent enough to take up both the responsibilities and if you take that difficult decision to be away from the little one for ten hours every day then you are tagged being too ambitious and selfish.  Besides, all the bills including yours and of the new member becomes a burden for the poor better half and this could even have several side-effects making you forget all the marriage vows,  so it leads to 'aamdani athani kharcha rupaiyaa' .

So with heavy heart, choked and in tears we women try to join the highly competitive work-force again leaving behind our kids either with the nannies or grand-parents or in the day-care(mine goes to a day-care, its been a year now). And now you are back to the grind with burden of sorts.

Since in India and now after Sanderberg's statement may be world-over,  number of hours spent at work get more mileage over performance, making things worse. Like in my case, I always tried to get over with my day's work asap and that too with extra care that its done with perfection but still that irking imposition of completing the work-hours was always there, resulting in being in the office physically and not mentally.
And yes, how can I forget those MEN and WOMEN who just try to exploit your predicament for their good, keeping  a working mother at bay from rewarding and important projects. Even after you and me try hard to explain that we are prepared for it and that's why we are here , all our attempts go in vain and we have to settle with left-over assignments and a look that's nerve-nipping.

We poor ladies settle even with this,  thinking the phase is temporary and it will pass, or at least we are still in the rat race after being a mother when there are many unfortunate ones (not really) who are sulking at home.When you are still figuring out how to prove yourself once again professionally , there comes another challenge, the little one catches flu or any xyz infection, reason enough for us to be away from work. And being a MOTHER neither our heart nor the societal norms allow us to leave the suffering baby alone. The next big question is, how to seek at least a week-long off.
Guilty, as if we have committed a crime we once again prove ourselves 'un-professional'. And mind you, as pediatrics say till the age of five your child is susceptible to infections more. So, be ready for the tight rope walk, once in a month!

Yeah, yeah, don't be in a hurry. I have not forgotten the other front, home sweet home. Our day starts afresh when we reach home every evening. For me it gets difficult because after dropping Divita, my head-mistress at school at around 8:30 in the morning this is the time when I see her. Since she goes to a day-care after her school is over I pick her from there. To my relief there are some fifteen kids with her. But by the time I reach to her if she happens to be the last kid to be picked, then I am vigorously quizzed for being late, even though I am not, its just that other ones left a bit early.  But unlike many grown-up, intelligent people she understands my situation and a hug and a kiss is enough to patch-up with her. While going back home she would whisper, " mamma jab aap der se aate ho to mujhe bilkul achcha nahi lagta" , phew.

 In between to avoid hearing these words, I drive like a Formula 1 racer on Delhi roads every day.Thanking my stars,  a cook comes to prepare the dinner so  after spending time while playing, talking and watching cartoons with Divita, I still get some me-time. Oh, cartoon reminds me, today I have to take her to a mall close to our place where her favourite cartoon character Doremon is coming. Its already 5 pm on a Saturday I would cash this opportunity taking a cue from Sanderberg  would leave office at 5:30 today  ;) for seeing that smile on her face and shine in her eyes on seeing Doremon. Am I asking too much from life?

Graduated to being a Mom

It has been long when I wrote my first and till now the last blog. And I have reasons for that. When I wrote 'A good bargain'  that was the time I conceived for the first time. Rather when I visited Surajkund Mela I was pregnant, though I was unaware about it.

I got so busy in my pregnancy and raising my baby that I didn't get anytime to come back to this page, though I tried several times. Unlike many girls, I enjoyed the 10 months or as docs say 40 weeks of my pregnancy thoroughly. Thanks to my loving and caring husband , my colleagues at my work-place (an English news channel) and my family.

I went to work through out the 10 months until my mother warned me 11 days before my due date (17th Nov 2008) that I might deliver in office only.

And finally I went on my official maternity leave. But staying at home and waiting for my bundle of joy was getting on my nerves. But we had no choice. Every morning we use to wake up thinking, " ki shayad aaj pain start ho jaye" (imagine a pain which we wanted to kick off). But every day passed in hope and anxiety. And finally on my due date I visited my doc and asked her to induce pains and get the baby delivered. The attempt failed and after injecting some gel she asked us to wait for another 24 hrs. And yes how can I forget that, a day before this the would-be dad went on to buy new clothes for himself as he wanted to welcome the baby adorning new outfits. Just imagine, I would be in some hospital gown with stains when I would first hold my child and he in brand new outfits...wow!! ( I found it cute, though).

That night was never ending and sleepless. Still nothing happened. In the morning we got up and as my doc has asked us to do, I got admitted in a fancy hospital ,Spring Meadows, East of Kailash. (maternity expenses covered under corporate health-policy ;) )

I put on that red and white gown and he was, of course wearing his new bright red coloured swet-shirt. In between,  the pain was induced , my baby was so happy inside, not willing to come out and see us.
The pain kept on growing, every three second there was a new wave of excruciating pain. I was labouring like hell...my gosh! But no regrets I myself opted for it as I wanted to feel the pain that my mom and millions of mothers have felt in the past and would be going through in future. I didn't want to miss that experience of a lifetime and also I din't know whether I would go for a second one or not.

 It was six in the evening and I heard the doctor say , 'it' has not dilated much and will take time. In between my howling I heard her telling the hospital staff to prepare a room for her as this baby is not coming anytime before the mid-night. I yelled and asked her to go for a c-section but she refused for my good. All this while he was always there by my side looking more worried and confused.

After all the negotiations it was decided to go for an epidural /painless delivery, yes by now I had experienced the pain of birth-giving . And finally at 6: 27pm on 18th November, my darling little princess weighing 2.8 pounds came to this world. The child specialist there showed her face to me and said its a baby girl. And the moment I saw her all my miseries vanished. I just wanted the doc to hurry up with her procedures so that I can go out and touch her, cuddle her, feel her.

In next 20 minutes I was out of the OT and I saw a big smile on his face. He enquired if I was ok. I asked him , are you happy and he smiled back. My mom and all my in-laws were present there.As soon as I reached my bed I inquired about her, " kahan hai woh use lekar aao na mere paas".  He rushed to the nursery and brought her to me. Meanwhile, I was told when she came out of the OT and was handed over to her father her eyes were wide open and she was looking at a bulb hanging over.

The moment I held her, touched her I was overwhelmed with joy and tears start rolling out of my eyes. I was a mother now. And the first biggest lesson of my life which she taught me was the worth of my parents. My love and respect for them increased manifolds.

And now I understood the meaning of that one sentence my mother has told me many a times. " jab tu maa banegi tujhe tab samajh aayega". And she was very right in saying so!

With this began the journey of my motherhood. Today my Divi is three and a half and like every mother my life revolves around her. Loads of love and blessings.

A Good Bargain!!!

Bargaining--- some enjoy it, many find it demeaning. But for me, bargaining is fun—if I can manage a deal on big brand it makes my day. And no shopping spree is worth its moolah without an argument with the shopkeeper. Be it looking for fake brands in the bylanes of Janpath or my recent conquest at the Surajkund Mela, I just can't help myself. I have to get every penny's worth.

The moment I reached the Surajkund Mela, I knew I had already swiped my ATM card.

But what was more exciting was that it was a virgin territory for me. I had been to the place once. In those days, it was merely a monument with a water body that solely depended on rain to get into action.


But now life has changed. There is the mela, and a famous one at that! This means long queues, tickets and of course people – loads of them.


Now being a journalist, how can I buy an entry ticket? Isn't my card – and that too nothing less than my "TV PRESS" card -- enough to get me in anywhere and everywhere? I had decided that tickets are not for me. They are for the 'masses'.
So, while I stuck in my shoes defying rules, my friends Archana and gang suffered the long queue and the ticket ritual.


At the entry, I flaunted my card to the security guard in the typical 'I am a TV journalist style.' Thanks to that 'style', he barely comprehended what the card was all about. Another guard, who seemed to be his 'senior', shouted, "Echcuse (excuse) me, Madam, zara card dikhaiye (please show me the card ).I was offended. How dare he stop a TV journalist? No, am not the one to give up. I yelled back, "Why should I show it to you again, isn't once enough? What do you think I have come here to show you my card a hundred times?" After vomiting out my journalistic ego, I showed him the card again and walked in – fine if he wants to see it again, be my guest.


My friends did not approve of this at all. Archana accused the entire species of journalists of being rude, egoistic, self obsessed, looking down upon "commoners" (I liked this one, which means we are 'special').She even went to the extent of saying "It really requires courage to go out with people like you and only such people can opt for this career." This was difficult to take. But you see I forgive friends.


Finally, we were in. There was yellow, red, orange, blue…. The place was beautiful enough to let me forget the ticket and the guard – even Archana's rude remarks! Our initial strategy was simple: .Ask the price, look at each other and say "expensive "and switch to the next stall. After doing this for a while, we made a joint statement that everything was just too expensive.


To be honest, it is difficult to resist a place like this. So we gave in eventually and plunged into our main agenda… shopppping. Our first bargain was a mat woven with colourful threads.


While Archana bought it for floor.The journalist in me decided to be 'creative' and use it on the wall. You see, we are different, after all. Even as we were busy shopping, a thought was running through my mind, "How do I prove to Archana that it is this very attitude that keeps us journalists going."


I got my chance at designer Jagpreet Chawla's stall who deals in pottery and glass murals. I asked him, " Kya yahan par photo keench le, bhaisahab?"(Shall I click some photos here) and in an arrogant tone he let me. After clicking a few shots, Mr. Chawla was annoyed. He said, "Madam bahut photu- shotu kheench liya, ab chaliye yahan se, bahut ho gaya"(madam no more photography please make a move).


This is exactly what I was yearning for. I took a quick glance and without wasting a single moment I told her this is what happens if journalists start seeking permissions. We will never get a story or the information that these prim-and –propah varieties love to watch and read. I had made my point.


Not a bad bargain, I thought, while hanging up my new wall carpet.

(Thanks NH)