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Such a misleading phrase. It assumes that the moment one brings a child into this world, one becomes a mother.

If only it were that easy. In reality, becoming a mother is a work in progress. Every day a child grows, develops, understands and communicates more. And the more a mother learns to be a mother.

As a parent, I think I know. After all, mother knows best, doesn’t she? But there is so much my son teaches me everyday. About him, about us and about myself.

My son is now three years old. And it has taken me all that while to scratch the surface on what it means to be a mother. It has taken me three years to accept it and to take pride in it and find joy in it.

Some days I regret that it took me so long. I mourn the wasted days and the moments that are gone.

But just as my son had to first crawl and then walk before he could run I had some learning of my own to do.

And so I tell myself, ‘Live in the present, savor the moment for it is so fleeting.’  To experience both success and failure, as I raise a child and in turn, he raises a mother.

Not.

The title for this post started out being a toss-up between ‘I’m A Twit’ or ‘I’m A Twitterer’. The former was abandoned because people might read it and go, ‘Hey! That’s right!’. Why help crystallize the nebulous opinions people have about me?

The latter was abandoned, for no reason in particular.

So Twitter, eh?

Back in the day, before everyone and his dog got on Twitter, it was fashionable to say, ‘Are you on Twitter? I am’. Now that everyone in the whole world is on Twitter, except me, its fashionable to say ‘Oh God! Twitter! I don’t twit or tweet or whatever it is you do on there.’

So what if I’m the only one saying it? Hey fashions have to start somewhere and more often than not, they start with one person.

And anyway, I don’t really know if @I’m cool, in (insert foreign country here) and on Twitter could handle tweets from such an action packed day:

Me time! Classic movie ‘(Insert movie name here)’ is now screening

1:28 PM Nov 8th via Twitter for iPhone

Review of movie to follow. Which one? Check previous tweets!

1:29 PM Nov 8th via Twitter for iPhone

(Cunning tweet to drum up some followers for my twitter stream. Hah!)

Oh wow! Three minutes in and I’m already hooked!

1:32 PM Nov 8th via Twitter for iPhone

Oops! Unscheduled break! Had to put bubby back to sleep but back on now!

1:42 PM Nov 8th via Twitter for iPhone

Crap! Fell asleep 😦 Restarting movie

3:45 PM Nov 8th via Twitter for iPhone

Restart postponed to wipe drool off couch cushions.

3:47 PM Nov 8th via Twitter for iPhone

Baby is up. Nap time is over.

3:50 Pm Nov 8th via Twitter for iPhone

Point to note here, I only wish I had an iPhone, or an iPad. I actually have an iPod.

Not that I’m interested in @I’m cool, in (insert foreign country here) and on Twitter‘s day either: I woke up, I drove to work, I got stuck in traffic, work sucks, the coffee at work sucks, the work at work sucks, the pay at work sucks….

Did you know this? So yeah, rather than contribute to the noise in cyber space I figure I’ll stay off Twitter until I have something earth shatteringly important to say.

Like what I’m having for dinner tomorrow.

It’s been. Way, way too long. But when major changes happen, routine goes for a toss. Not that I was very routine with the writing in the first place.

Anyway to cut a long rambling monologue short, I was away. And now I’m back.

Watch this space…

In the old days, when blogging was a new tool, the word of the blogger was equivalent to the word of your next door neighbour. They expressed their opinion on a matter of international/national/local/domestic significance and you either agreed with them or not and put forth arguments to that effect.

Blogging was supposed to be an enabler of neighbourly conversations, even if said neighbour was oceans away.

About two years ago, the media started paying attention. They gave real weight to the words of the neighbour. And now it’s gotten to the point where it might be dangerous to say something, because someone might sue you.
Or something.

That said, I’ve given up commenting on current issues. Nothing to do with being afraid of getting sued, of course.

Which brings me to the perpetually perplexing question of what to write about. I believe I have gotten away with many a post simply expostulating about writer’s block.
In all conscience, not a very good ploy on my part.
And besides, one needs to restate one’s mission, vision and all that rot once in a while so as to steer true. So I’ve decided I’ll try and make an effort and share my hopefully daily, sometime comic, sometime dark and at all times real, observations of life on the blue marble.
Having done that course check and found that I'm still keeping to the original course for this blog of arrant nonsense and gereal ravings, I pause to say, "I will return" and exit, stage left.

Only it’s 2008 now.

Yawn. Been there, done that.

12 days into the New Year(if we’re 12 days in, does that mean it ain’t the New Year anymore? And does that mean I can stop the annoying capitals in the middle of the sentence?) and so far I have no gripes. No cribs. Nothing to rant about.

Which essentially means I have nothing to write about.

Kidding! You didn’t think I was going to let you off that easily, did you? 😉

I went and watched Evano Oruvan. That’s the Tamizh remake of the Marathi flick Dombivilli Fast. I liked the movie, although I felt it could have been done better. There was something that was just not right. Maybe it was too many dialogues in the wrong places.

I found God again after a long time.

Not really. I just wanted to say I went to a nearby temple after quite a gap. In a fancy way, you understand. Well anyway, I was in my work clothes that day. That would be the uniform of youth the world over, jeans and a shirt. As opposed to my when-you’re-home-try-to-impress-the-grandparents clothes(sarees).

I go and stand in the line in front of the sannithi and close my eyes in prayer. When I open my eyes again, the sannithi has been replaced by a lady, about 35 years of age. I’m beginning to think this is one of those bizarre spriritual experiences.

Trick of the eyes. She’s just planted herself in front of me for some reason. I’m bad at remembering faces and names. When I go to marriages, I usually spend most of my time being reminded by countless people of my family tree and what twig on that tree they are. Anyway, I’m about to ask this lady if I know her. She beats me to the punch though.

She hisses, in a voice that would have done any maker of spy flicks(and even some spies) proud, “Your shirt is totally inappropriate for temple”. In a very scandalized voice. Accompanied by scandalized looks out of the corner of her eyes.

I look down. Grey shirt. Three quarter sleeves. Buttons done up. Unlike some young women, not a midriff baring shirt.

I’m missing something here, aren’t t?

I come to the temple to make my petition before the Lord(or Lady, as the case may be). So do you. So how come you are monitoring the appropriateness of my clothes, instead of praying?

Do you find me commenting on the ugliness of your salwar suit? Or telling you how it so does not suit your frame? Or how you do not become ‘hip’ simply by wearing a suit in that revolting shade of yellow?

Childish argument? Ok. Here’s a mature adult argument.

We live in a free country. People can do what they want. I admit there are some things that are not done. And some that would be better done behind closed doors. But then again, like I said, it’s a free country. If it offends your sensibilities, go somewhere else. You cannot force me to conform to your idea of acceptable. If you think God will listen to you only if you come in body armor, that’s between you and the Dude. I think He’ll listen to me whatever I dress in.

Why do you people keep trying to measure every one on your scale? Who made you the moral police of this country? And why do we even need moral policing? Don’t you think our consciences are enough guide?

Live and let live man. And if it hurts the eyes, close them. If it hurts the ears, plug ’em.

One last kicker though. It’s a free country right? Then these people are free to force their views on me, aren’t they? Just as I am free to rile against them.

There’s the rub. 🙂

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