Day 5 - I've decided to show up every single day

Even if it's to write a single line. A line will lead to two lines and eventually I'll be able to write a paragraph and so on and so forth. With twins and daily chores, writing takes a back seat. I try and get almost everything done while they're taking a nap and well, their nap is usually for two hours in the afternoon so there isn't much time. But honestly speaking, there are little pockets throughout the day. Little nuggets of time which I can make good use of provided that I can steer myself away from YouTube. My addiction to makeup videos is super embarrassing. And ofcourse, the past two weeks I was combing through the internet for pictures of Deepika & Ranveer's wedding. *hides under the writing desk*

Anyways, the point is to report at my desk every single day. Showing up every day has to result in content and it might be mediocre at first but hey, Rome wasn't built in a day, was it? 

The blank screen - a writer's nightmare

Day 4 - When I decide to share

I've never really thought of sharing my writing with anyone. There are many reasons for it. Some which go as far back as Grade 5 but that is a story for another day and blog post. Mainly I've found it difficult to share because I feel my writing is a) not good enough, b) won't resonate with anyone and c) nobody will read it. 

But after almost eight years on the beanbag, I think it is time to share my blog. Life is too short and unpredictable and I don't want to have this regret that I didn't do certain things in my life. Already the regret bin is overflowing. Better not add more stuff to it.  

Day 3 - Where I talk about baby shark and my childhood

Sharks weren't very popular with us when we were kids. Maybe it was Jaws which set the tone for how we were to think of sharks for the rest of our lives. When we were growing up, sharks were not wearing ties or tutu and dancing - they were ruthless killing machines. And somehow a bunch of us cousins made it our mission to kill a shark and save mankind from utter ruin and devastation. Or so we thought.

Imagine six kids, between the ages of 14 and 4, who held meetings (mostly outdoors) every week during hot, sweltry July afternoons in Karachi. Why afternoons? Well, that was the time when our moms were mostly out to buy stuff (trips to Zainab market and Tariq Road), our grandfather was taking his afternoon nap, our Uncle was at his job and our grandmother was engrossed in her Urdu digest magazine. The servants were also not around and so, it was the perfect time for conducting meetings to discuss how we were going to, well, kill a great white shark.

I think I've skipped the most important part of this entire endeavour. Each one of us (except our eldest cousin) was supposed to bring some sort of snack at the meeting. Before the meeting started, we placed our respective snacks on the table as a sort of offering and prayed for success. I recall our last meeting very vividly. We were all sitting on folding chairs in the porch (I'm not sure if we had the pedestal fan or not) with the table laden with goodies in the centre and each of us was trying to come up with a grand plan. My eldest cousin suggested we talk to my mother's uncle who was in the airforce as we might require air power to kill the shark. But how will we go out in the ocean in the first place? A valid question raised by another cousin. To which I had replied that my paternal uncle would help us as he was in the navy. With the logistics settled we started munching on the biscuits and daal moong and cake rusk when suddenly a voice broke the spell, asking us what we were doing sitting in the hot summer afternoon in the car porch?

It was our grandmother who, finding the house very quiet considering her six grandchildren were around, had put her digest away and got up to investigate. I think she was amused but we were terrified. We had taken stuff from the cabinets which we knew we weren't allowed to unless we got permission from an adult. And the cook had been complaining for some time that the dry goodies were disappearing rather quickly. Anyways, our grandmother told us all to get our asses inside, put the goodies on the dining table and do something constructive like read a book or play a board game.

We were quite disappointed that our secret was discovered. What came as a bigger disappointment in the evening was when we told the details of our mission to the elders at the dinner table and our uncle told us that there are no great white sharks in the Arabian Sea.

Childhood is so innocent and now, when all of us cousins are in different countries and haven't come together in years, these memories are a reminder of the good times we shared. Memories have a way of resurfacing and while I hadn't thought of those 'shark-hunt' meetings for years, they came back to me one evening as the twins were listening to the current nursery rhyme sensation, Baby Shark. At least the sharks have nothing to fear from this generation.   

Day 2 - Where I talk about my 8 years on Twitter

I was a Twitter junkie till a few months back. I checked Twitter first thing in the morning and several times during the day. It was my go to place for all kinds of news and without reading the newspaper or watching television, I knew what was happening in the city, the country and the world. And then one morning I realized that I'd turned into a sponge. I was just absorbing news,  updates, viewpoints, rants and letting it all affect me. Didn't I have enough stress of my own? Why was I increasing it ten times more by reading stuff I didn't agree with or found outright unacceptable at times? 

I got off Twitter. My account still exists and the app is still on my phone but I'm not clicking on it every time I turn on my phone. It was weird at first to not be abreast of what was happening in the world but at the same time, it was strangely liberating. I was free of hearing what others had to say and even though most of the people I follow are ones whom I like, they're still 'others' and I guess I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to hear what they have to say. Not because what they are saying is pointless or unimportant but because everything they say affects me deeply. 

Maybe being a new mom has made me sensitive and more fragile. Maybe seeing my grandparents grow old and helpless has made me sad and question the meaning of life. I don't know what it is but I just feel Twitter isn't the space for me at the moment. It's a great space and it's still my go to source when I need information but that's all it is at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less. 

How does social media affect your life? 

Day 1 -I return to the beanbag & talk about my twins

Day 1 of my return on the beanbag. May it be long-lasting. Amen!

It's not that I don't get little windows now and then during the day to write. It's just that somehow, after managing the twins most of the day along with juggling everything else in life, the brain refuses to get into creative mode. As soon as the twins doze off in the afternoon, my brain, too, goes into sleep mode and avoids any task which requires thinking/pondering/creating. Which is the reason why I've not come back to my writing even after a year and some months have passed since I've had my twins. 

Who are my twins? N & Z. Sister and brother. Two little bundles of energy, curiosity and of course, joy! Though when they sometimes wake me up in the middle of the night, joy is the last emotion I register. Being a parent is an experience unlike any other. It's the one job we don't get any formal training for even though it is the most important one we ever do. Taking care of a tiny being - of a minuscule human life who is completely dependent on you is the stuff of, honestly speaking, nightmares. Yet it somehow comes so naturally - or at least it did for me. I won't deny that it wasn't daunting and at times, frustrating, confusing and very tiring but I never really had to refer to a book for advice after the twins were born. Not that there is any shortage of advice in our society - from the mother-in-law to the maid, everyone is an expert when it comes to babies.

Alas, time is passing by too quickly and my babies are already 14+ months. I'm trying to capture their childhood in a little notebook which I've been keeping since their birth. It's a diary I'm keeping for them of their milestones, special events, achievements etc. I hope to give it to them on their 18th birthday. The problem is that there is the one notebook and both of them will want to keep it (or so I think!). Well, they can get copies made 'cause Mommy Shark gets to keep the original. 

reading nooks are over-rated

If you meet someone who sings praises of his/her 'reading spot/nook', beware! The reading nook is just a marketing gimmick. It may not appear to be so but eventually all roads lead to consumerism and our insatiable appetite to buy. This advocate of the reading nook (or RN) will exclaim in delight how they've managed to read so much more because they now have a dedicated place to read. You need the right vibe around you while reading, they'll lecture, and no ordinary corner of the house will suffice. The chair needs to be right, with a side table of the correct height and width to accommodate both your book and cup of tea. If you show curiosity about the tea they'll go into another tirade of how the whole flavour of the book changes when reading it is accompanied by a steaming cup of tea or coffee, whatever your preference. Besides the chair and table, there has to be a lamp and foot stool for night time reading. They'll also add that you must check out reading nooks on Instagram or Pinterest for inspiration. The whole conversation will end with them showing you the pictures of their nook. 

Of course, when you'll ask them the number of books they managed to read while comfortably ensconced in their nook, they'll probably mumble something incoherently or state a single digit number or tell you they were so busy setting up their nook and putting it up on social media that there was no time to read. 

Don't fall in the nook trap. Read anywhere. In the car, in the toilet, in the bedroom, in the living room, on your balcony (with or without a cup of tea), in hospital waiting rooms, at the  airport (I once read a book while standing in line for an eye scan in Dubai). Read in the park or at the beach. Carry a slim book (or a heavy one depending on the size of your bag) on you or your Kindle and just take it out when and where you get time. 

Books are cool. Read them. 

The belated 2018 post

I have notebooks in which I scribble all the time. I've had notebooks all my life but most of them, fortunately, I destroyed. Those that have survived are of various sizes, shapes and thickness. Why I'm talking about notebooks is because a dear friend of mine is on a decluttering mission these days and her efforts made me think of the various clutters in my life. Which aren't many, mind you, because I constantly give/throw away stuff. Except for notebooks. And here I'm not just talking about the ones which have the secrets of my life inscribed in them. I am referring to the ones which have such mundane entries like travel lists, to-do lists, random doodles made while talking on the phone, minutes of meetings etc - you get the gist but I feel that these notebooks or notepads are also important. Why? I don't know. I'm not someone whose papers people are going to go through diligently after I die. I highly doubt the twins will be interested in them. Unless one of them becomes an anthropologist and wants to know how life for an ordinary woman was in 'those' days.

Being ordinary is not that bad but it's a label I'll like to change sooner or later. More sooner than later. I don't want to become an Instagram sensation, oh no! It's more a lofty goal of contributing to the society in some way. I think the only way I ever did that was when I taught MBA/BBA students but that too is such a distant memory now that it feels like it never happened. 

What else feels like a distant memory is 2017. N and Z are already six months old. Where did the time fly? It seems like only yesterday when I was tossing and turning in the hospital bed after my surgery and thinking to myself, this too shall pass. Well, it passed and is passing mighty quickly. I had a friend get me Matt Haig's new book, How to Stop Time. She, being a non-fiction reader, took the title a little too literally and boy, was she in for a surprise when she sat down with the book on the plane. Time does stop  - it's just that we're in so much of a hurry to reach our next appointment, or get done with some routine task that we will it forward. Always looking at our wrist watches or now, at our mobile phones.

So how to stop time? I find reading a good book is a great way to stop time. Watching a great movie is another way. Reading to your kids also works as a time stopping device. Keeping the mobile phone away from you is a super way of making sure time stops. It is also very detoxing. I've been forced to not keep the phone on me because of N and Z and I find it extremely refreshing. Try it this year. Put some physical distance between you and your phone. Have a no-phone policy during meal times, even if you're eating alone. Above all, please delete the Facebook app. 

I've started this year with no resolutions. Maybe if I have no agenda I might just end up clearing up the clutter that previous unfulfilled resolutions have created.