Post # 26 - Show and Tell

Aren’t our lives all about showing and telling? 

This week the twins had to take their favourite toys for ‘show and tell’ to school. I found it very amusing because both N and Z don’t have a favourite toy as such. They have a few favourite books but those, too, keep changing every day if not every couple of hours. They never really warmed up to stuff toys or action figures (not yet!) and there isn’t any toy as such that they can’t live without. I did send them along with one toy each (and tried to impress upon them the night before how much they love that toy) but as expected, they didn’t say a word about their respective toy to their class mates! Toddlers are little people with a mind of their own.

Wait, is this the beginning of a lifetime of show and tell? It might sound a bit crazy but seriously, what are our lives all about? Everything we do - the way we dress, talk, the accessories we have, the cars we drive, the clubs we belong to - they all tell a story about us. They are silent markers of who we are in the world. They help us to create a perception of perfection and happiness without revealing too many details of our lives. 

Social media, though, has totally changed how we view others. Now we don’t even have to step out of the house to show and tell. All we need is a camera, some lights and a decent backdrop to create a perception. The internet has allowed us to step away from reality and create an alternate world. A world which might not always be based on truth but which others out there might be taking to be true for us all the time. Putting perfect family pictures of holidays, weddings, birthday celebrations, work achievements on Instagram and Facebook helps us to show others the so- called perfect lives we are leading. We show and tell what we want to. We hide the imperfections, the daily disappointments, the mundane realities of our lives and only highlight the very best. 

What’s wrong with that, you might ask? We have a right to show and tell what we want to, don’t we? Yes, but in doing so haven’t we all become narcissists or even worse, Dorian Gray? Which is disturbing at so many levels. Let’s take our toddler class as an example. Your child might take a simple dinosaur  - the plastic ones which don’t do much but stand on the floor - while another kid might bring some really fancy toy. How is your child going to feel about it? Isn’t he or she going to come back and say, I want that toy or can you please buy me something nice for my next show and tell? 

And before you give me a lecture on how to raise kids who are above all this material mumbo jumbo, think about yourself. Take a moment and tell me when was the last time you scrolled through the net - Instagram, Facebook or whatever else and didn’t go, I want to buy that or I wish I had that?

Showing and telling, that’s what life is about. It’s up to us to decide what we want to show and how we want to tell our story, if we want to that is. Or maybe Calvin is right, 'Everybody wants the same old thing.'

Images: Google

Post # 25 - Monsoon (Memories II)

When we visited Karachi in the summer holidays, there were three things we really looked forward to: meeting our grandparents, going to the beach, and playing in the rain with cousins. 

Although it rained in Rawalpindi throughout the year, there was something very special about the Karachi monsoon. Probably because of the relief it brought after the stifling heat of June. Or maybe because we were in party mode and needed an excuse to celebrate anything with our cousins and rain was a major cause of celebration. 

Even then as soon as the dark clouds rolled in and thunder rumbled in the sky, the lights went out. This was the pre-generator era (yes, I am that old!) but we kids weren’t bothered with load-shedding. When the first rain drop hit the driveway of my grandparents’ house, all us six cousins were out of the front door, oblivious to everything.

There is a special kind of joy that one derives from the rain and which sort of multiples when you let your defences down and dance with complete abandon in a downpour. 

Even though I haven’t let go of myself and stepped out into the rain in a long while, the twins did yesterday. One moment they were on the porch, stretching out their hands to feel the raindrops. The next instant they were in the driveway, jumping and splashing around. What made it more fun for them, I guess, is that no one (read: me) was stopping them from jumping in dirty puddles or rolling  around on the floor. 

As I’m writing this I feel a little sad. My grandparent’s house is still there but none of us cousins are around to play in the rain. My grandmother isn’t well enough to make aaloo ka paratha or pakoras. Those fading images of merriment and joy are all that I have. And I guess they are enough to out a little smile on my face as the clouds start rolling in and thunder rumbles in the sky. 

Note: I've talked about the monsoon on the beanbag earlier also. You can read those older posts here and here. 

Post # 24 - The Twins start school

The twins have started school this month and at times I feel I’m the one going to school with them. Not that I was a late riser before the twins were born and since having them, early mornings have become a norm but getting to school on time is a whole different pressure. Especially with toddlers who have no concept of time and are indifferent to the fact that instead of playing with their toys or going through their books, they need to get ready for school. 

I was a bit scared about school. I wasn’t sure how I felt about sending the twins away for a couple of hours and leaving them in a new place with well, strangers. A few days after school started I began worrying about their safety and once you start thinking about these matters, the mind leaps from one crazy scenario to another. I had almost convinced myself one night, at the ungodly hour of 2am, that I’ll home school them - society be damned. Thankfully, better sense prevailed!

As the days of the settling down period went by, both Adnan and I started stepping out of the classroom for longer durations and leaving the twins with their teachers. There were a few instances of crying but overall, both of them adjusted fine. And now, after almost two weeks, we are leaving them in school for two hours. Leaving them. Which means handing them over to their teacher and going home. 

And it was okay. I didn’t feel any anxiety or fear and no doubt creeped into my mind as I walked away from the classroom and out of the school gates. I felt happy and light. Happy that my kids had settled in their school with minimum fuss and no meltdowns. When I came back home the first time after leaving them I didn’t really miss them but yes, it did seem a bit odd to be without them. Sometimes I do wonder where all the time has gone. It seems only yesterday that they had started crawling. Now they are running and climbing and doing all sorts of things. It’s a pleasure to see them grow everyday but they’re growing up way too fast for my liking. 

Post # 23 - birthday wishes

I was into fantasy fiction and role-playing from a young age. Probably because I read the abridged version of Tilism-e-Hoshruba when I was around nine. My imagination was also a wild one and often playing alone in the garden at my grandmother’s house in Karachi I’d enact fantasy stories of my own. One of them which I distinctly remember was of me as the queen of the snakes with a deadly cobra (invisible to the world) by my side who was my protector and wazir. My favourite pastime during long hot afternoons was to sit in a secluded spot in the house and solve all world problems with my retinue of snakes. 

I never shared this with my cousins because girls of my age were more into fairies and less into snakes. Whenever we played a game that involved fairies I was the evil one who was defeated and either shunned or forgiven if I turned over a new leaf. At the end of every fairy game one of my cousins used to make a wish. Right smack when the maghreb azaan started, she would close her eyes and bring her hands together and whisper something. For a few days I let her be but then my curiosity got the better of me. Turned out she was making a wish to become a fairy because she believed that wishes made at maghreb always came true (try telling this to a nine year old now). 

I can still recall the scene as if it happened yesterday. She made me wish too but little did she know that I didn’t wish to become a fairy. I wanted to be the Queen of Snakes, the master controller, the woman everyone feared and revered. Alas, no deadly cobra came to my bedside swearing allegiance the following night.

When this memory floated into my mind in the morning today, I thought how the media (books, movies and now the internet) construe our image of a being. Not all fairies are sweet little creatures and not all snakes are evil. In our folklore djinn often assume the shape of snakes and come to warn humans of a catastrophe. There is one thing though, a good fairy is a good fairy and a python is a killer snake, unless it’s a djinn. Can we say the same things about us humans? 

Sometimes I wonder who I am? More importantly, who do I wish to be? Do I still want to be the saviour of mankind with my snake army? What about the other avatars I’m trying on - the writer, the yogi, the makeup artist? Do I choose or wish for one or can I be all three? 

Even though maghreb time has long gone by as I type this paragraph, I still want to make a wish on the eve of my birthday. I wish to be everything I ever wanted to be and more importantly, I wish for patience and perseverance to see my wishes come through in the coming year. Happy birthday to me I guess! 

Post # 22 - giving up, starting over

The struggle is real. 

This year I had decided to make some changes. You’ve heard this before but I’m going to put it out there AGAIN. I’ve taken some steps towards change but I still feel that I need to do more. One of the things I’ve done, which I never did before..like ever, is to read some good self-help books. The one I’m reading currently is Brene’ Brown’s Rising Strong and if you’re wondering why I’m taking SO long to read it (since I mentioned it here on the blog way back in March) - it’s because I’m afraid. At the end of each chapter there is a bit of a summary which not only helps to outline the chapter but also makes one think of how it all applies to their life. When I finished the first few chapters, I sat down and went through the ‘Owning the Story’ exercise. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Walking into my story, accepting all the good, bad and the ugly with honesty, wholeheartedness and a desire to change required courage. 

So, has the change started? 

The one thing I’ve come to realise is how much we overuse the word, change. It isn’t easy to bring about change when you’re living a regular lifestyle. If you have a set routine and you want to bring about ‘changes’, it requires much more work and motivation than say a major change like moving houses, or starting a new job/school, or starting over after losing a loved one. In these instances people around you are willing to give you space to settle into the change. But bringing about simple changes in your routine in a house which is functioning in a certain way is a task even Hercules would have found daunting! 

Does that mean I can never bring about the change I want?

No. It just means a) I have to work harder to implement the change and b) once I can bring about the change and it produces certain desired results, others will also respect the change and be willing to accommodate. 

Simple, right? 

Not exactly. There is nothing simple when it comes to bringing about change. It needs effort and guts and willpower and a whole lot of gritting teeth and losing sleep. It also requires a lot of self-love and kindness because there are no instant results and at each step of this journey I need to be aware and accepting of my story. The past one, the present one and the future one I hope to create.

 

Rising Strong - Brené Brown

Image: Google 

Post # 21 - The point of it all

Seriously, what’s the point of it all?

I ask myself this question now and then. It’s a question which indicates that I’m going through an existential crisis. Which is something a lot of us go through several times in our lifespan (if anyone tells you otherwise they’re either lying or they don’t know that what they’re going through or went through is known as an existential crisis). 

I’ve been re-reading one of my favourite novels by Nick Hornby - Juliet, Naked. The last time I read it was in 2010 and I wasn’t going through any major soul-searching dilemmas at that time so I had forgotten that this novel screamed existential crisis at almost every other page. 

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great book, probably one of his best novels. I loved re-reading it but what I had missed the first time was a) that this was a coming of age story but of adults which kind of translates as mid-life crisis and b) the protagonist, a woman, was roughly the same age as I am now when she started questioning where the last fifteen years of her life went. Her questioning brought to the surface some tough questions of my own life and doings which eventually culminated into this one observation/question:

What’s the point of it all?

I’m at a strange place in my life. I want to write but am afraid of it. Not of the hard work involved but of exposing my vulnerabilities. It takes a lot of courage to lay yourself bare which is something I realised and took inspiration from when I read the book, It’s Not About the Burqa. This collection of essays from female British Muslim authors was very inspiring. Some of the stories were so, so personal and painful yet the authors penned them down and shared them with the world. Is writing a blog everyday also something like that? No, not really. Especially when everyday you check your site and realise, with a sinking heart, that nobody is interested in your writing. Which brings us back to the original question.

Seriously, what’s the point of it all?

I know this sounds a bit like a very sad cry for help but it isn’t that at all. Okay, maybe just a bit. And in case you feel like sending me a nice email or leaving a sweet comment, please feel free to do it. Now is a good time. NOW is a very good time. 

[This is post no. 3 of my #dailyJuly series on the beanbag].

Post # 20 - Observation is a superpower..almost!

So much of who we are is, besides genes and upbringing, based on observation. A lot of times I’ve found myself doing a certain thing in a certain way because my mother or grandmother did it that way. And I’m not just talking about cooking. Actually that is the one thing I can’t talk at all about with any authority. Unfortunately. Although I’ve observed both my grandmothers (maternal and paternal) cook but somehow, I was never really interested in it. Now, though, I wish they had forced me to learn cooking. It’s one skill everyone must have. With the internet cooking, like everything else, has become so much easier and simpler. But learning from your grandmothers or mother or mother-in-law makes you feel part of a special group…sort of like a secret society. One Youtube video doesn’t make you a chef. It takes a lifetime to develop your own ‘haath ka maza’.

Personality can be greatly shaped by observation and though I haven’t studied psychology, I think observation is not given as much importance as genetics or ego or other forces inside our mind. My own actions, especially after my marriage, reflected a lot that I had observed my mother and grandmother doing and/or not doing. I feel that the power behind shaping your personality using observation is learning what not to do more than what to do. 

It’s funny how things come full circle. My daughter has great observation skills and I’ve often seen her copy certain actions. Usually she copies her twin brother when it comes to physical activities but she also copies her father and me. Tonight, while I was getting her twin brother ready for bed, she put her sneaker on the sofa and tried to tie the laces. She obviously couldn’t tie them but her motions were spot on. And nobody has tried to teach her yet. It was both cute and scary for me to see her do that. Okay, in all honesty? It was mostly scary. This little girl of mine is going to give her mama a real tough time. 

[ This post is the second one in my #dailyJuly series on the beanbag.]