34...

Yesterday was the day I crossed over to begin the 35th year of my life. Continuing along the lines of basic, I was not wound up for this in any particular way. Rather, I just...r.e.a.l..l.y wanted to have a quieter version of a birthday, with the least fuss. And it did work out that way.

For one, one my my aunts from India called bright and early, and was the first to wish me. And since her call woke me up, I could come down to enjoy 1 full hour of almost solitude before everyone else woke up. Almost because I decided to call and speak to my parents, who were the first ones to greet me the day before, when the day began for them in India. I had a nice long chat with Amma, and felt like a little kid again, as she gave me advice and ideas on a couple of things. It was a very nice feeling, to know that I needed her and to rely on her wisdom instead of my own feet, for a change. It made her happy too, to sense my fleeting moment of normalcy. :)

And then the boys woke up. And came down. And Thambi climbed into my lap, gave me a hug and wished me. Which is probably the only special treatment I got from him, for he is Daddy's boy, and unabashedly so. And that is a whole separate post of woe.

Winkie got out his special card from hiding and gave it to me. It was pretty. Watercolours, yellow and pink blending softly. I could tell he had worked on it with patience and love, but there were some missing details. And as a mother I pointed it out to him. How the cupcake could have used a little detail in the form of outlining, and same with the tree inside, and how my name, and his name was missing, as was a personal message from him. The card was beautiful, and all it needed was that little bit of personal touch to make it truly from his heart to mine. He did sport a little bit of a pouted lip for a while, and tried to squeeze back some tears in his eyes, but it got through, for he took time out to do that and give it back to me. And now I have a card that was truly made for me. It was a tiger mother moment, but it went well. :)

R had his eyebrows raised at this whole exercise, but I stood my ground. It is the little things that make a bigger thing count, and impact. You get the little things right, and you have already told the person, how much you value them. Its all about the effort, isn't it?

And then, just as we were about to head out to watch Hugo in 3D, as a family, a friend, suddenly showed up at the door, and claimed she was there to whisk the boys away, so we could enjoy some adult time. I was in shock the first few minutes, as I contemplated spending a big chunk of my day without my boys, and that bit of sentiment surprised me, for I fancy myself a very non-sentimental person for the most part. :) Winkie wasn't sure he wanted to let go of our plans either, but finally relented, under the cajoling and the certain knowledge of a fun playdate and they both left, and the house was quiet. We grabbed a quick lunch and went to watch something we couldn't have done with the kids. That was rather nice. Followed by some window shopping, which again was so much easier to do without the kids, and some takeout dinner for us all, and the day drew to a close. All too soon, I felt. I could have used a few more hours of feeling like it only belonged to me, so reliving it stretches that fantasy a bit longer....:)

At the end of it all, I guess the one thing that I truly want, which I can symbolise by asking on my birthday, is something that begins with a 'd'. I asked my mother to ask it for me, when they went on their next out of town, remote temple of the boon fulfilling deity. Discipline. I want it, and lots of it. To rein in all my senses to a point where I am in control of it. To act always from a place of deep understanding and peace. To be a part of this world, enough to function in it, but not lose myself in its wildness. To have grace and a smile, no matter what. These are the things I treasure and seek, both within and without. And the only thing that remains to be seen, is whether this coming year will serve as testimony to this transformation, or is even this lifetime of mine, not enough to get there....

Basic.

Basic. That one words describes my life of the past several months. We have been on a "basic" mode. Basic meals, basic ways of filling up time, basic ways of marking a festival, basic conversations...and just a very basic quality to life. Yes, things have been busier off late, but then again, when are they not? I think I was on a major mental burnout, and did not have the inclination, leave alone the energy, to communicate, or express. Words have this dual quality to them. They can carry powerful messages. But they can also spread around the vibes of inanity. Where a lot is spoken, for the sake of being spoken, but there was no real need for that many words to do it in the first place. See, even this last line could have been shorter. :)

So even phonecalls to friends or family became hard. Especially when asked the question....how are you? What's going on in your life? That basic question, became the hardest of all. Because then I would have to use words for it, and I was hoarding my words to conserve my energy for the things I absolutely had to do. Like the basics of daily living. You can just *tell* the vibes of all the judgements making the rounds in their minds. I could sense my mother's sense of frustration with me, like she was hitting a blank wall. Or maybe it was just my guilt at not being able to be the daughter she needed me to be at least for that 1/2 hour on conversation. Its all so complex and then suddenly simple, as I realise, that I am just growing quieter as a person.

The burning need to talk, to communicate, to opine, to conclude, to express....all of it was simmering down to a zero flame, slowly...slowly....because there is enough mental chatter inside my own head, and there is a sweet communion when even that noise dies down. So where is the need to talk outside?

But then, how can we function with the world, if we don't? How can we let people know we care, if we can't listen to what they have to say, or talk back to them in a language that they can understand and use to assure themselves? And so, I must try. Every now and then...to reach out and a be a little like my old self, if there is such a thing, and to make an effort at something, that just doesn't come so naturally to me anymore.

The boys are facing the brunt of this change too. It takes me every ounce of my strength to listen to them chatter and to speak out my own responses, so they know I am there. Even so, meal times are slightly quieter affairs. While a side of me battles with the romantic notion of catching up with your family over a warm, homecooked meal, there is a huger side that longs to commune with the holy act of eating and just do it in silence. And so I tell them, let's talk after. They are slowly getting the hang of it. And the next best thing is that they talk to each other, if not to me. And I am glad that there are two, instead of one.