Main Vapas Aaunga: the most poignant movie I've ever seen

What did I just watch!

When I first saw the poster for Main Vapas Aaunga, I went, "Ah, Imtiaz is back. But why Vedang and Sharvari?" I didn't follow much of the promotional run that followed. But when it finally released, two friends told me I mustn't miss it, and that I had to watch it on the big screen. These are the same two I've had long, passionate debates with about Lootera being one of Bollywood's most underrated gems, so the recommendation carried real weight. A week passed, but I was determined to catch it in theatres. When I finally went to book tickets, I found they were selling out fast. By the time we got to the theatre, it was packed. A film running purely on word of mouth – this had to be good, right? And boy, Vedang does not disappoint. Even with this heavy star cast, the two people that carry this through and through are Vedang and Naseeruddin Shah. 

Here are ten things that stayed with me, and will likely continue to, long after watching Main Vapas Aaunga.

1. Angst. Imtiaz Ali has never been a novice at showing us emotion in the most relatable, real way – case in point: Rockstar, Tamasha, Love Aaj Kal. The thread that carries this film through isn't Partition itself, isn't the horror of that night, isn't even the heavily communal hue most Partition films get trapped in. It's angst. The incompleteness of a love story, trapped in time. At 95, Grewal wants to go back to Sargodha and tell Jiya his poem. He spends a lifetime pining for her, filling notebooks with poetry he never delivers. That angst breaks you.

2. The lack of anchoring in a refugee's life. I'm half Sindhi, half Konkani. My Sindhi family has been my only true family growing up. My closest aunt, who raised me like a mother, would tell me about our village in Sindh. My grandparents didn't leave in the mass exodus of Partition they left a few years earlier. Some of my oldest relatives were born in Sindh and spoke fondly of their life there. They told me of a pinga, a kind of swinging bed, where the family would lounge and watch the fields after a hearty meal. They told me of imported cars, of fine leather bags and crystal their parents brought back from business trips across the world. Many of them left overnight to rebuild their lives in India, but carrying that heavy memory of the world they'd left behind, they never quite found an anchor here. They passed away without ever going back, without ever getting that warm goodbye to the place they were born and raised in. I've looked up our village on Google Earth, on maps – it exists, it is real. It's forbidden to me, but it's where my family came from, and it likely holds its own stories of laughter, mirth and family, like any other place would.

3. The fragility and uncertainty of life in that era. When the Partition plan was announced, it was met first with disbelief. Of course they can't force us to choose a country. Of course we can decide where we want to stay. Of course they won't separate us. But then, suddenly you're not allowed to casually cycle into the non-Hindu side of Punjab. Suddenly you're packing your life into a single bag, hiding in wells, trying to stay alive long enough to reach the train station and get out of the place you called home.

4. The reality of how it panned out. History books taught us that Pakistan gained independence on the 14th of August, and India on the 15th. Does everyone remember the date of Partition? Does everyone remember how the borders were drawn, or who drew them? Did they make sense? No. The illogical planning, and even worse execution, of that plan shocks you and reminds you how inhuman war and colonisation can be.

5. The flashback structure. The ease with which the film slips into flashback and comes right back to the present day is commendable. It never feels choppy, incongruous or confusing. You become just as invested in what really happened as the grandson is. You wait with bated breath to see if there's a reunion, or even just one last look, at the end.

6. Death becomes ordinary, once you've seen enough of it. After the night the train sets off for Amritsar, Grewal has seen so much death: so many murders and beheadings that when his own father passes, he'd rather go to work and return for the funeral than sit and mourn. He says, "Hum refugee hai, humari shok manaane ki aukaat nahi hai." It hits you hard; hits you that the men of that generation had it brutally hard, and that their mental state would likely depress a therapist today. They saw too much. It hardened them, made them harsher parents, made them less loving. They suffered so much that no other suffering came close – choice of spouse, choice of education, family conflict, none of it seemed worth addressing next to what they'd endured. Was it a valid excuse? No. Was it hard? Yes.

7. The raw, real relationships in the present day. An ageing, not-particularly-loving 95-year-old parent, suffering and swinging between life and death, keeps his 65-year-old children on tenterhooks and they don't feel only love for him, but also an impatience to simply move on with their lives. This is no Karan Johar film, where the whole family camps out at the hospital, prays at the hospital Ganesha idol, and keeps vigil for Dadaji. This is hard-hitting and real; it sits with the grudges the children carry, but eventually shows you how they're also rooting for him, knowing he suffered through all the days he lived, and that he deserves a peaceful, complete death. I'd like to believe they forgave him, and thought kindly of him, after that intensely emotional last scene.

8. The one earring. The past is introduced through Jiya's search for a single lost earring; it ends with Grewal identifying her, decades later, from a portrait because she's wearing only one earring in it. Did she pine for him as much as he did? Did she know that even if he found her, or only the portrait remained, she wanted there to be something specific, something recognisable, to remind him that this was his Jiya? The simplicity, the innocence, of that one prop broke me.

9. The women. The women who got on the train suffered the loss of home, community, and loved ones and were then forced to rebuild lives, raise children in an unfamiliar land, and live with husbands haunted by the ghosts of Partition. But the women left behind, because it was too dangerous to get on the train, had it worse. The grandmother who cries and begs to leave with the men of the family eventually takes it upon herself to protect the honour of the young girls in her care when the atrocities begin. The frozen frame where the women are leaving, and one turns to wave at the men, breaks your heart in a way you can't quite explain because you know something terrible is about to happen, and you also know there was no good solution here. Nobody knew right from wrong. Everyone was just trying to keep their family safe, knowing there was never a best case outcome.

10. Whether love like this is even possible today. There's bound to be conversations about whether a yearning, a love like this, is possible at all now. In an age of situationships, instant messaging and social media, it's easy to forget how precious a single photograph once was. One forgets how you could go days without a single glimpse of your lover, and how, strangely, that distance and emptiness kept you connected. This is touched upon through the grandson's present-day relationship, but it lingers, and keeps you thinking. It reminds you of how you fell in love, how you felt consumed by that warm, fuzzy feeling and nothing else mattered. It really knocks you out, the moment the two present-day lovers turn to each other and say, "I want to be loved like this."

There are always films that make you cry, make you laugh, make you talk about them at work and with friends. But every few years, a film comes along that hits you deep inside, that lodges itself in you like a memory of a time that existed long before you did. It may not define you, but it intrigues you, not as trivia, but for the way it reframes how you think about your lineage, your forefathers. Main Vapas Aaunga is a watch for anyone with a heart, anyone willing to let themselves feel deeply and love fiercely.

 

Sunsets - a little bit of daily magic!

Today’s splendid sunset

Over the past many months, I’ve found myself thinking about the afterlife a fair amount. Maybe it’s from having to explain to Vir where his grandads are. Or why I cry about them never being able to see them again. The permanency of death is hard to communicate to a four-year old. I’ve found an answer that’s been doing the job so far. They’re in the stars. Too far away, but they’re always watching over, they’re laughing at our antics, they’re happy in the stars. 

Today, the absolutely gorgeous sunset stole my heart but also tugged at my heart a bit. My dad was a complete sunset junkie. The kind that would drive miles on vacation for the perfect sunset point. The kind who’d wait till he saw the sun go right in and then trudge back to the car in the dark. The one who’d plan travels and hotels around where the best sunset view was. He was never a sunrise person - Waking early is a quality neither he nor I have. We make up for sunrises with catching as many sunsets as we can. I remember the last week with him, when we were on vacation by the ocean and we caught a few sunsets together. He had just gotten the handy cam and he filmed several minutes of the sun going down, with us chattering away in the background. It didn’t matter to him - He was intently watching. I’d probably be a million times more aware of my last few days with him and catch every sunset every single day together, only if I knew. 

Today I got thinking - What if sunsets are how our departed loved ones find us. Do they send the sun every day to watch over us and retreat when the day is over. Is the sunset our way of saying Good bye to our loved ones every single day. The sun brings hope for a new day, brings warmth of their hugs, signals us to rest every evening, may not even be visible on a terribly cloudy day (which we have more than our share of in Bengaluru), but always shows up the next day. The sun is probably how my dad’s been coming back to me every single day since he left. Is the sunrise him waking me up because I’ll be late for school again. And the sunset him reminding me to slow down and soak in the lovely sky. 

You know how you sometimes land up at a place and it feels like you’ve been there always, even if it’s the first time you ever set foot there. The sunset feels that level of familiar, not just because it’s something I’ve grown up with (of course, duh!). But, it has a way to warm my heart every time I watch it retreat - in all its glory, colouring up the sky with more colours than any Crayola could. For those few minutes, it feels exclusively mine. 

There’s magic in every sunset - For me, it will always be a piece of my dad that I get back every single day.

Another beauty in the last few months 

A lovely sunset at the Andamans

The ocean sunsets hit different

Animal - the Problematical, Irrational Laughable debacle

If you haven't watched it yet - Don't. Read this instead.

Animal is one of the worst movies ever made – Let’s get that out of the way. It has trashy testosterone glazed dialogues, plot holes the size of Silk Board junction’s and character writing more sloppy than RGV Ki Aag. Ranbir Kapoor is single-handedly the only reason you can sit through this trash fest of over 3 Hours. Despite the storyline going wonky every 5 minutes and characters who just pointlessly show up and vanish, he carries this mountain of rubbish on his able shoulders and OMG is he a treat to watch in some scenes. Those eyes! Also, It helps that I watched the movie in a theatre with people laughing at all the stupidity, so I could comfort myself that this country is in good hands.

1. More people have come and gone in this pot-boiler of nonsense than Game of Thrones. People just show up, from nowhere, for no goddamn reason and die – again for no reason.
2. Vanga sir – there is so reason to explain your stupidity. Eg: I did not need to know that Ranbir’s underwear fabric softener was not good hence he is going commando and wearing the Dhoti for that fight sequence. Such stupidity needs no explanation, should have no explanation – If he turned up looking like a Yakshagana dancer, I would not question it – I have been trained through the first half to suspend all logic. Just like I suspend how a steel making company is dishing out guns like Chiclets and nobody is questioning the legality of it! Just like this bunch of goons is standing and singing a song while Ranbir is getting his head blown out like a Pinata cake.
3. Can you believe that it takes till the interval for you to learn Ranbir's name in the movie? It didn't occur to anybody to just give him some labeling till that point. There are glimpses of Yalgaar with this very dysfunctional love story and father obsession – Does it help that Ranbir looks like Sanjay Dutt? The only thing missing was an Aakhir tumhe aana hai encore version!
4. Rashmika – You go girl. With your Bangalore accent and your I’ll slap you dude dialogues! But yes, please spit out that paan when you mouth Hindi dialogues next time. What da, macha, full bundle.
5. Bobby Deol – Lord Bobby, I feel bad this is your “comeback”. From being in Gupt and even the very unwatchable Yamla Pagla Deewana, this is just downright sad. Though even for that three costume role and that Abrar’s entry song, I could watch you all day long.
6. By the end, Ranbir cannot hear, has concussions, a broken bladder, a weak heart and YET, he is fighting people like effing Bahubali – is he supposed to go to Professor X in the next part and become one of the superpowered X-Men?
7. Good thing I paid only Rs.80 for two tickets (Thanks Mom’s credit card) and Rs.400 for food and I remember how the Samosa tasted more than I remember why the hell this man is killing everybody or what the revenge plot is about. My revenge plot about overtaking cars at Bellandur junction makes more sense than this. For example, I literally unlocked my phone to sms one OTP to somebody and in those few seconds, the revenge plot was explained, everyone was on board and there are Range rovers going through a sunflower field in Punjab. I sometimes doubted my own awareness - did I fall asleep in the quantum space when some explanations happened. 
8. The movie is so bad, it makes Aisha look like a masterpiece, makes The Archies look innocent not juvenile and makes Gunda look like an Oscar nominee. I want someone to create the Razzies only to please felicitate this entire movie with an award that should resemble one tight slap.
9. You thought Shiva Shiva Shiva was annoying – just you wait for Papa, Papa, Papa – I mean just SHUT UP!
10. Anil Kapoor is more pointless in the movie (thought it is all about Ranbir’s obsession for him) than the vase in Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. Atleast that vase gave you Gamla, a scene you could laugh out loud for. Anil Kapoor could be played by a cactus and the movie would still make no sense. 

Vanga Sir has teased a Season 2 – Let’s pray by then Ranbir has migrated to Africa and begun reviving Nigerian cinema, because ANYTHING is better than this. Bobby has lost his speech, Ranbir has lost his hearing – I wish I lose my sense of memory, so I can forget this terrible movie and listen to its beautiful songs!

A 10 point review of Jawan

The movies are back and HOW. 

 

I’ve watched three movies this year – Pathaan, Rocky aur Rani ki Prem Kahani and Jawan. And I’ve loved each of them. For all the flak that over the top Bollywood cinema gets, its pretty much the kind we grew up watching. I can never forget how my dad would buy tickets in black and take us for movies like Roop ki Rani Choron ka Raja or Lamhe. I grew up watching this fantasy world – a galaxy far far away from reality. And it felt good. I think COVID was a much needed snap cut to the nonsense we had begun to make – Sooryavanshi, Circus, Shamshera, Thugs of Hindostan – omg, the stuff I started writing reviews about! But, the movies THIS year have brought back the same joy as childhood. All the three movies I watched have crater sized plot holes, but boy, do they have the element of joy which is Bollywood! Life’s hard enough, with enough dramas in our families, at work, in our relationships – I’m much happier suspending belief and watching irrational nonsense if it can make my heart warm – exactly the reason I enjoy some very random Korean dramas. 

 

I never got to write about Pathaan and RRKPK but here goes, my ten point review of Jawan without giving away a plot twist I’m dying to write about.

 

1. Atlee is clearly a Money Heist fan – one of the girls has Tokyo’s hair, the prison looks straight out of the vault, Nayanthara (a negotiator/single mother/romances the lead who’s the antichrist) is Raquel and don’t even get me started on the bandage mask! 
2. Atlee is also a Dark Knight Rises fan – Dragging a main character to lock him up, a Bane looking villain, it has the feels!
3. Vijay Sethupathy, this star – what a wonderful year playing the good cop in Farzi to a menacing villain in Jawan. Excellent casting – The villain universe is in good hands! Not so subtle references to the Matrix – red pill/blue pill!
4. Deepika’s cameo is short lived but sharp (I cried through all her jail scenes) – more hard hitting than Nayanthara’s role I’d think.
5. Social messaging on point throughout the movie – be it farmer suicides, voting apathy, malfunctioning substandard arms – I loved how some real life stuff was thrown in the mix with an otherwise fantasy movie (of course – how can a 57 year old man SLAY like that!)
6. Nayanthara did not recognize Shah Rukh from the voice – this is a Rab ne Bana di Jodi plot hole hitting you in the face.
7. +10 bonus points for references to older movies – Kaveri amma, Bahubali (did he mean Thangabali!?), Nayak nahi Khalnayak hoon main
8. Shah Rukh is probably also setting up retirement – channeling his inner Rajnikanth to do action like Vijaypath’s Ajay Devgan
9. I saw glimpses of Shah Rukh characters in the three hours of Jawan – Veer Pratap Singh, Major Ram Prasad from Main Hoon Na, Pathan, Don, Kabir Khan from Chak De (what’s with this captain leading a bunch of women beating up men!) and I could’ve sat there for three more hours chomping on popcorn watching more. I eagerly await Jawan 2.
10. Never been a Shah Rukh fan, but oh dear, this action hero, anti-establishment Shah Rukh is all I want to watch now!

 

Thanks for bringing back the movies, Shah Rukh! 

10 Things I Hate About You

Our first photo together

1. I hate how you rummage the fridge for your dinner sometimes, but make me order new

2. How you patiently listen to me ramble about work though I fall asleep when you do

3. How you watch Korean dramas you despise, just so we can get together time

4. I hate how right now, you even make me rhyme

5. I hate how you know I didn’t arrange my clothes and just shoved them into the cupboard

6. How you patiently fix it the next day, every single time, even if you’re bored

7. How you know when I’m saying the truth, those half truths, especially those lies

8. How you never buy me gifts, but quietly pre-pay that card bill and take me by surprise

9. I hate it when you’re not around, or how you’re always on a call

10. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, Not even close, Not even a little bit, Not even at all

Our most recent picture together

What two weeks in the hospital taught me…

Meeting her grandson after a whole 15 days in the hospital

My mom took seriously ill two weeks ago and spent a week in the ICU and ventilator. Besides contemplating life and circumstances, these two weeks gave me a lot of time with my thoughts. Some just endlessly waiting on doctors for updates, some just because I had hours where I just wanted to be by myself and not talk to or see anybody. I learnt many things, but some deserve to be documented. This will be a note to self in the future. 

1. Grief is very equalising. It doesn’t matter if you arrive in an auto, a bus, a BMW, you still are at the mercy of the doctors and nurses watching your loved ones. You all will likely pause at the Ganesha on the ground floor and pray. Grief is probably the most unifying, humbling and equalising force there is. 
2. Caregiving is lonely. Very. I had post natal periods of feeling terrible empty and lonely because I felt like my baby needed only me, I wanted to catch a break and some sleep but there wasn’t any to be had, I constantly worried over him and obsessed over every small sneeze even. It’s the same I’ve felt for my mother. And through all the endless waiting times, trips back and forth, I’ve not felt lonelier before. 
3. Grief also has a very long shelf life. I relived the accident in which I lost my dad a hundred times, continued to be able to smell the tar from the crash and a feeling of emptiness when I remembered how I went back home and had to move on with real life shit. I thought I’d have forgotten the little details after 25 long years. But turns out, not. In retrospect I also thanked god sometimes that he went through none of this suffering. On the first day of my mom’s hospitalisation, I had nightmares of the build up to the accident. It was unreal. Like someone opened Pandora’s box and Pandora had a bloody good memory all this while. 
4. Marrying right is one of the best things I’ve done. Knowing I have someone I can go back to, eat my Dal chawal with and someone to throw a blanket over me when I pass out on the couch is what real love stories are made of. 
5. There’s a life out there in the real. Outside of laptops, Teams, Outlook, Bellandur metro traffic, office dramas. There’s a world that exists parallel to mine. Where doctors, nurses still scribble vitals on a large folded A3 with a Reynolds pen. In unfortunate circumstances like this, we meet.
6. I watched an entire terribly trashy K drama (16 episodes of 1.25 hours each by the way) over ten days on my way to the hospital and back. Sometimes in the waiting space of the ICU, where I waited for two hours on some days to see my mom for one hour. I coped, I survived, I found a way to cut myself out of the people around me, some of who were with much more serious patients than mine. I sometimes amped up the volume, on full noise cancellation when someone would receive bad news and break down sobbing next to me. I did whatever I could to just exist and not fall apart. I’m probably never going to judge someone in a hospital waiting room watching shows on their phone (maybe if they’re very loud, but I won’t roll my eyes at them I’m sure). 
7. English classes about sympathy vs. empathy become real. There’s always going to be people to pretend to care and those who really do. Events like these make this distinction even clearer. It hits home hard but in retrospect it’s everything your heart always knew but didn’t want to accept. Also, having friends like family who ask me everyday HOW ARE YOU means the world. 
8. Some people mean well but just don’t know how to show it. They’ll try to guilt you about not answering the phone when you’re probably contemplating existence. Some of them mean well. Some, well. Okay. 
9. Medical insurance is horribly under-rated, under-discussed and misunderstood. 
10. In times like this it’s easy to beat yourself up about making certain choices which might seem like a bad daughter, a bad wife, or a bad mother. But I want to write my own affirmation here, that being a good enough person is grossly under rated. Fulfilling all roles par excellence is great but even fulfilling them just above passing marks is fine - as long as you are able to be your own hero, your own warm cup of hot chocolate, your best support. As long as you can wake up the next day, with the same hope that it will be a better day than yesterday, be the very average person but be there for yourself.

Brahmastra - A movie meant for the big screen

1. Brahmastra is a bloody fantastic visual treat - one not seen in Bollywood and for that I’ll give it a long applause. It’s the first Hindi that we’ve ever worn 3D glasses for and watching it in IMAX 3D is just splendid. 

2. Making people go back, google out theories and wonder if they spotted Easter eggs is a first for Hindi movies - the storyline is good, not gripping, but definitely worth watching out for Part 2.

3. Brahmastra is not awesome because of Ran-lia, it’s awesome DESPITE the two of them being in it.

4. Alia says Shiva Shiva more than a pandit on Mahashivratri. The time she’s not saying Shiva, she’s asking him Tum ho Kaun. I mean just say Kaun hai Woh jisne dobara mud ke mujhe nahi dekha and be done with it already.

5. The dialogues are utter trash. The worst I’ve seen ever and I’ve watched a Hindi movie called Vivah where Shahid Kapoor was offered “Jal”. 

6. Shah Rukh Khan is an utter treat to watch. Despite his hackneyed lines and jokes even he wouldn’t laugh at, he reminds you why he’s the God of the silver screen. 

7. The ‘Gurukul’ has FIVE inmates. Any PG in BTM Layout has more. Among the inmates, One happens to be Bihari, one North-Eastern. They’re not just selective in hiring; they’re also adhering to current political mandates.  

#enoughsaid

8. Mouni Roy, I thought might be the weakest link in this but she’s infact quite the opposite. Superbly pulls off Junoon - great casting building on her Naagin looks too. Do feel bad that she had maybe two costumes in the entire movie and Alia changed three during a walk in Varanasi. 

9. There’s a huge ass Pandal IN THE MIDDLE OF MUMBAI. So big, Wankhede will be put to shame. I would like to visit this magical place some day! 

10. There’s connections to Game of Thrones I discovered - Agniastra which cannot be burned aka Daenerys. Amitabh Bacchan keeps calling Ranbir “mere dragon” aka of course the dragons from GOT. Ranbir, the child of Jal-astra and Agni-astra aka A song of ice and fire aka Jon Snow. Thank God the end was not as trashy.

Sharmaji Namkeen and my Papa Namkeen

 

Papa watching his ice cream being beaten to death at a stone creamery, seriously contemplating life choices - His son, doing the very same. One of my favourite candies of the two of them.

Papa was a Rishi Kapoor fan, so much so that he had started wearing his watch on the right hand when he was young even though he was right handed because Rishi Kapoor made it cool to do that! Rishi Kapoor passed year before last of a prolonged illness, Papa passed last year (cannot believe we can say it was last year), of a sudden heart attack. Watching Sharmaji Namkeen last weekend made me tear up for the both of them. 

Sharmaji is the story of a newly retired daddy finding his ground after he has no office to go to every day. It’s amusing how he keeps himself busy but endearing how he packs his sons’ dabbas every day. My Papa was an amazing cook himself - one scene especially where Sharmaji adds garam masalas to a potli and puts it inside the kaali dal, reminded me of how Papa would ask me “Tumko pata hai Chhole black Kaise banate hai ye hotel wale?”. And I knew his answer (Chai Patti in a potli when the chhole are boiling), but I wanted to always hear him say it like a magnificent revelation and I would gasp in surprise and tell him we should totally try it when we make Chhole next - only to most often get shot down by the others. 

Papa was an excellent cook - in his last few years, he would take on Chhole and Rajma duty especially which he would make exceptionally well. I would joke and tell him how he should teach his son cooking and he would tell me how he and his brothers learnt from Dadi and they were all a very independent bunch. He made some kick ass Masala Pepsi, cut Kaddu so neatly like you won’t imagine and basically could make everything except Rotis. He had a great sense of taste - He could tell if the salt is off by even a little bit, what went wrong with a sabzi, what trick went into making something as tasty as it was. When I would cook, I would always force him to tell me how it was though he would not volunteer criticism generally. He would tell me “Good” and that would be my medal. Some times he would tease me master chef style and say “Sab Badiya, bas thoooooooooooooda sa Dhania Hota toh perfect hota”. He was quite an all-rounder, My Papa Namkeen. 

Papa and I would jokingly have conversations about starting a pop-up restaurant - Sometimes it would be Mummy making parathas, or sometimes it would be about me making Chili Paneer in a food truck. I’d joke and tell him he would be my CFO, billing people and collecting cash, managing all the money. We would make such Khayali Pulaos ever so often and laugh it off. When I watched Sharmaji, it resonated with me how hard it must have been for Papa also to retire from a life largely dictated and possessed by work. I felt awful watching his kids mock him for cooking for people and trying Zumba - I would’ve been Papa’s biggest cheer leader if he did anything how ever offbeat if that made him happy. Though conventional in up bringing, I do feel he would have encouraged us to do what made us happy too. 

If you have a daddy around - Firstly, thank god a million times and go give him a hug from me. Secondly, If he’s retired or retiring, be his rock, be his BFF. Don’t try and be a prude police man trying to dictate what he can or cannot do. Family is all we have - Family is supposed to be there for you no matter what, no matter what choices, no matter what circumstances. Go out there and be the best family he needs. 

Breastfeeding - Where you're damned if you do, you're damned if you don't

 

Breastfeeding week concluded in August and despite wanting to write about it for oh, so long, its taken, well, oh-so long! But here

we are. There is no other topic I’ve found to be as polarizing to new parents as Breastfeeding. From the moment the nurse helps the baby in the delivery room to latch on and get the much coveted colostrum, the medical world pushes breastfeeding as the only possible option to feeding a newborn. They will mostly scoff at you if you are not able to feed and formula is needed. Come home and then you'll meet parents and relatives who will remind you that you were bottle fed so bottle is the way to go!

In my 16 month breastfeeding journey, there’s many things I’ve learnt and many things I’ve taught myself to not believe. Here’s 10 common hearsay/myths about breastfeeding. Its disappointing that many of these I’ve heard from our own elders who’ve often discouraged me from feeding, or at minimum scoffed at why my child does not take the bottle.

 

1. It doesn’t fill a baby up. It only contains water.
1. Truth: Breastmilk contains milk, sometimes richer than any other form of milk. Only the initial milk of every feed is watery and honestly containing H2O which is also necessary because up until 6 months, the baby cannot have even water alone. Hindmilk or the milk that comes after a few minutes of suckling contains rich, fatty milk which in the initial few months, puts a baby to sleep in no time.
2. It is not nutritious The most nutritious milk in the world is not Cow’s milk, it is not Camel’s milk. It is breast milk. There is nothing that comes close to it in terms of nutrients, antibodies, Breast milk has hormones and the right amount of protein, sugar, fat and most vitamins to help your baby grow and develop. It protects them from illnesses, ear infections, colds and what not. I’ve had more than a few instances where I believe nursing Vir has gotten rid of his sniffles.
3. After 4-5 months, a baby has to switch to formula.
1. Truth: No. It isn’t mandatory. You can switch if it is convenient, but it isn’t recommended if you’re able to breastfeed. Yes, you will notice a dip in supply, that’s mostly because your body has adapted to your child’s feeding pattern and knows when and how much to make. Also, the baby has become a bit of an expert, efficiently emptying breasts in minutes. I know of women who’ve stopped nursing after 4 months, because they saw supply diminish – I was one of them too. I tried to make the switch to formula because I thought Vir was going hungry. He showed me the way, rejected and refused the bottle, was diagnosed with a form of GERD and silent reflux, making doctors push me even harder to breatfeed and make the move to solids at 5 instead of 6 months. So, after turning 16 months old, here we are. Now, Vir eats a variety of solids, nuts, vegetables and even has his cow’s milk hot chocolate, but he continues to breastfeed a few times a day and I’m more than glad that we still want to and can.
4. You cannot feed while taking medicines
1. Truth: Many medications are nursing safe. All you need to do is let your doctor know and you will be prescribed accordingly.
5. Recently COVID vaccinated mothers should not breastfeed
1. Truth: Even the Indian Medical Association withdrew the initial recommendation advising lactating mothers to not take the vaccine. My gynaec and Vir’s pediatrician encouraged me to get vaccinated and I was there on Day 3 of when vaccinations opened for 18+ aged Indians. I infact remember reading an article about how a pregnant nurse in the U.S. took the COVID vaccine when she was 7 months pregnant and when her baby was born, it was born with COVID antobidies.
6. Breastfeeding is stress free
1. Truth: Breastfeeding is NOT stress free. Yes, it is convenient, you can feed any time, any where (almost!). Nights are easier, you don’t need to scramble to make a bottle during a night waking. But, breastfeeding is very stressful. Am I making enough? Is he still hungry? Oh no, he’s teething again. Oh no, its that time of the month (Breastmilk changes taste during those days and the baby gets fussier in general to feed). After a few months, the baby wont even fall asleep with the breast alone. So, congratulations – find a new way to make the monkey sleep.
7. Nursing mothers cannot eat Mangoes, brinjal or have coffee
1. Truth: Partially and only in the initial months. After which, life has gone back to normal.  
8. Breastfeeding makes a baby clingy and dependent
1. Truth: I’ve seen some babies (exclusively formula fed and some exclusively breastfed) be way more clingy than my child is or ever has been. It’s a child specific trait and has nothing to do with breastfeeding. Just about who the child finds comfort with.
9. Breastfed babies will not sleep through the night
1. Truth: Can’t be further from the truth. This again differs from baby to baby. A formula fed or even breastfed baby also wont sleep through the night if he doesn’t know how to connect sleep cycles or is dependent on sleep crutches such as rocking. Once the child learns to connect one sleep cycle with the next and is well fed just before they go to bed, they may sleep through the night quicker. Sometimes breastfed babies wake purely for a comfort feed – but so do formula fed babies and even exclusively solids feeding toddlers. They may wake for a quick snuggle, reassurance that you’re around, their pacifier. Anything. Sleeping through the night has as much to do or not to do with breastmilk as it does with formula milk.
10. If you don’t nurse you are a bad Mom.
1. Truth: This is the biggest and worst myth I’ve heard. Some women can not nurse for physiological, psychological or logistical reasons. Some do not want to. Which is absolutely fine. Motherhood in nuclear families, especially if you’re a working Mom, is about survival. You do what ever you can, to make it. If you can breastfeed, you do that. If you can not and do not want to, so be it. It is your choice. You carried that child inside of you before he came into this world. You will continue to be the best Mom for him and you are all he needs. Breast or no breast, nothing takes that away.  

Our frequency of breastfeeding has reduced but its still some of the most fun times of the day he and I spend together. We point at each other’s noses. tickle each other’s tummies and laugh. Do I have a plan to wean, No – I don’t even know how I’m going to do it and it worries me how we’ll both wean. Do I regret doing it for so long – No.

For you, Vir. A thousand times over. 

Papa wali Diwali

Festivals are the hardest. They will be for a long time to come, especially when the one person who was the most excited about them isn’t around. Papa during most times was excited to make stuff happen, fix things, make hundred trips to the market - during Diwali, he was another level. 

If we reached Mumbai early, we’d also go participate in buying new Torans for the door, in buying new lights if the old “Chinese walein” have given up. We’d definitely be out buying new clothes (this meant dragging him to Inorbit or Seawood and forcing him to buy a new Kurta, then go crazy with our shopping and have him tired by 9 pm, only recharged by that Thali he’d have at the Food Court). Last year we were in Bangalore, so we made a trip to Fabindia and somehow to make him and Vivek twin with Vir's red kurta, we all ended up buying red and looking like a tomato basket in Diwali photos.  Sometimes we’d clean (this meant Vivek cleaning the fans and Papa saying next year main Urban clap karwaunga for sofas). We’d sit and open gifts he’d get from office staff and business associates and telling him some maal is pretty blah. Atleast 2 days before Diwali, he and Vivek would be putting up lights on all the balconies and doing multiple dry runs (are the sliding doors shutting, are there any clothes around, how does it look neeche se). Oh, he absolutely loved the lights and the whole process of putting them up with junction boxes, paper clips, etc.

 

My first Diwali in the family 

Then, Diwali day morning would involve a compulsory trip to the market for fresh flowers, rangoli powder (he always knew I had white at home but made me buy extra just in case) and crackers. Oh, the crackers. He’d always say “hum buddhe ho gaye” but at the cracker market, he was a child. He’d ask for 7 shots, bombs and then say Mummy ke liye thode anaar, pencil le lo. We’d then stop by a general store to buy candles -  always. Always. Then we’d drive home, sometimes stop to buy fresh kulfis or Naturals icecream, then eat Rajma or Chhole and then pass out.

 

By 4, it would be time to put the rangoli. A groggy me would wake from my nap to either find Papa standing at the balcony and watching over other houses and their set up or watching something on his tab. He’d then go to make chai and start evening prep while I’d kick Vivek out of bed to help (Yes, equality). Rangoli would be in progress while likely someone came over to visit and was fed Laddoos and Namkeen made at home, while Papa would be watching his watch closely to prepare for evening Puja accordingly. He’d come out every 30 mins, check on the Rangoli and tell me if it was symmetrical, where it was looking good or not. Then, once it was over – it was then time for everyone to scramble and get ready. He’d be sitting putting the wicks on the diyas – He and I were the only ones who’d roll the wicks nicely but of course he had no patience to wait. By the time we’d all get ready, he would then run to the shop nearby and buy fresh, hot jalebis and milk for kaccha doodh and jalebi.  We’d then all scramble in the Mandir room and seating arrangements would be sorted – chair for Mummy, our in-house Panditayan, while we would sit on our mattresses and grab a Puja book for the aarti. Papa would diligently do the Aarti while we sang, someone missing one line here or there because the books are different. Then he would pass the Aarti to Vivek to take it to each room and return. Then we would be given money to place in the Mandir and pray, while everyone was eyeing the prasad. The mithai would then be distributed among everyone, in the order of Doodh Jalebi, some Mithai and Layi Pataashe. While we took our picks with the Mithai, Papa would be polishing off 1-2 more bonus jalebis 😊 Last year, we were in Bangalore for the first time for Diwali and he grabbed Vir and held him throughout the Puja, happily singing and showing him the Mandir. 

 

Holding Vir all through Diwali Puja

Then we would light the diyas, place all around the home and then it would be photo time. We’d force him to pose for family photos – heck, once we even made a Diwali wishes video and made him say a few things. Last year was the first time I saw him put his arm around Mummy and say take one picture of the both of us like this. He was just cute in his own way! 

Diwali last year and the picture he made me take with his arm around Mummy

And then it would be cracker time! Papa would be the first one to run down with the crackers and set up. Candles would be lit and sparklers would be opened by the time the rest of us reached downstairs. He’d start with one sparkler and then as his diligent assistant, it was my job to make sure a new sparkler was being lit before the dying one would burn out. He’d get angry if there wasn’t a sparkler lit and then grump about a little bit to light a new one – it takes time to light a new one, as you imagine and he had zero patience! I’d send him off saying Jaao bomb jalaa lo tab tak and he’d run with a sparkle in his eye figuring what to burn now. Vivek would be standing on the side with his Mom, then he’d take some sparklers for her and then go light some flowerpots himself. Papa would scoff and say “Chalo bomb le aao, hum jalayenge”. I’ll admit I used to burst bombs with my dad when he was alive, then I stopped after he passed because I was scared to do it alone and my Mom was scared of bombs too. With Papa, I got more brave and would buy stuff that would look so freaky, but I knew he’d light them with me if I chickened out. He always did! He’d save the 7 shots till the end, so we end on a good note – sometimes it wouldn’t burst as wonderfully as the guy selling promised – He’d say “Agli baar yahan se nahi lenge”. Knowing fully well no one remembers who we bought it from if we were told to go the next day even.

 

This cracker fan!

Then we would finish our stock of crackers, go up and wash up quickly because it was time for dinner! We never ate dinner at home on Diwali day – there was so much to do all day anyway, we would go out for dinner or order in. If we were going out, we’d end up at a restaurant bursting with people and be standing out waiting for a table – He’d make ten trips to the door and be like “Aur kitna time?” and come back and report status. Then we’d get our table and eat like we hadn’t eaten in days, though remember – We have already stuffed ourselves with Rajma or Chhole for lunch!! In the recent few years, it became an added ritual to go drive around the area and see how houses were lit up and then finally also see how the NMMC (Navi Mumbai Municipal Corporation) building was lit up. The last time we were there, it had become so popular, with carts selling food and people sitting on the lawns. He said “Saala ab yahan bhi parking ki fight ho jayegi”. Then we’d pack into the car all tired, after a Diwali well spent. Once, I dragged everyone to an icecream parlor for stone beaten icecreams. He scoffed at the sounds and the beating of the icecream, but eventually he enjoyed his dessert.

 

One of those trips to NMMC building and a visibly tired Papa

We’d go home and then take a survey of the diyas – which ones survived the wind, which candles went off, which ones are good quality to be bought next time! We’d change and watch KBC, or Bigg Boss (Yes, Mummy and Vivek would make us!) and then look at Whatsapp statuses and photos and see how the others spent Diwali. Papa would go fall asleep first, while the rest of us would soon follow. The next day would be Bhai Dooj generally, when he would be up and ready in the morning in a crisp Kurta pyjama. We’d make Bread rolls and Halwa and the brother and sister would crib about having to have a bath so early in the morning but they wouldn’t be allowed breakfast before the small ritual, so they had to. We’d then do the Tikka and money would be exchanged – He would always keep cash ready and generously part with it. Last year I got to do the Tikka and tie the Mauli for him and I made an earning myself!

Bhaidooj last year

It was a dark Diwali this year without you, Papa. We did dress Vir up in new clothes, I’d have made sure you twin with him in a blue kurta. We did buy Jalebis, but nothing compares to getting doodh jalebi distributed by you after Puja. We did light diyas, unsupervised and it was not fun. We watched others burst crackers and light up their balconies and it broke our hearts – never has an otherwise celebratory explosion of light and color been more painful than yesterday. You made sure I had the most fun Diwalis every year since I came into your family. I do promise that we will do our best to do everything like you used to in the coming Diwalis, so Vir can see Diwali from his Dadu’s eyes. He’ll grow to love crackers and lights like you, be excited like a little child for Diwali forever, like you. I know you’ll be watching from above and wanting to come do something with us because we’re doing it wrong or slow. We wish you could do that too – We miss you sorely, everyone knows it is going to be hard without you, but no one warns you that festivals are going to be the hardest.

Vir on Diwali this year

Happy Diwali, Papa – Eating extra Mithai on your behalf, not the bekar anjeer wali, the good Kaju Badam wali! 😊 

1 Month to Papa, 1 Month to life without our Superman

23 years ago, I lost my dad in an accident. We were driving back to Bangalore, excited to be home, we crashed and he passed away almost instantly.

One month ago, I lost my second dad. He too was on his way driving to Bangalore, excited to be with us, he had an attack and passed away in a day.

Both dads left us suddenly, in a blink. Both fortunately didn’t survive to lead half-lives saddled with injuries or dependence on others for basic things which would probably have driven both of them to abject sorrow. That’s the only way the ones left behind can look at things and find solace.


There’s a ton of things I learnt from my Dad in the 12 years I knew him – thanks to him taking me everywhere and telling me everything he was doing, including having me sit with a coloring book at one of his General Body meetings when I was 8. He’s the reason I have an urge to figure out things, fix things and then revel in the achievement of how amazing it became. I spent the next 13 years after he left, picking up the pieces and learning to live independently – be it washing the car, or fixing the showerhead, or fixing bulbs, paying the bills and doing everything. And then I fell in love and found myself become part of this family with someone who went on to be just like my Dad, someone who took care of us all and became that safety blanket I knew I had to fall back on always. The first glimpse I had of this was when we were headed to Mumbai for our reception after our wedding in Bangalore – we got off our cabs once we reached the airport and all the women started walking to the terminal. I lifted the trunk of my cab and went to pick up my suitcase (I was not used to anyone doing this for me) like no biggie, chooda and unnecessary jewelry jangling and what not. He grabbed my suitcase from me. I told him that I’ll carry it and he said – “Aap akeli ho toh ye sab kar lena, mujhe aaj uthane do” (Okay, so you can do this when you’re alone, but when I’m here please let me do this). It was the first of many times he’d take care of me and remind me how much one can enjoy having a dad to spoil you. That’s just how he was. And in the time we spent together, there’s so much more I learnt from him too.

• Respect your work; and everyone else’s
• Papa worked for the same company for all his life – from being a simple junior engineer employee, to being mentioned in their annual reports 30 years later. Gammon was his second home, its problems were his problems, for the longest time. In the last few years despite his ‘retirement’, he still found a way to work with them in some capacity or the other. He really enjoyed working and staying busy and productive. And this quality of his allowed him to respect our jobs and effort. When he saw me awake one morning at 5 am to set up and open a dataroom for a divestiture, he didn’t tell me to shut down and go to sleep, he asked me to eat something. When he saw us working from home, on calls, he didn’t once interrupt or once belittle our jobs just because we weren’t in the office or out and about in the traditional sense. His appreciation and respect for work is something we could all learn – Especially when many people still behave as if working from home means the company pays me to sit and dang my keyboard and talk to 1-2 people a day. He understood that even if that’s all one did but did it all day – it could be tiring.

• Bond and connect with kids
• Back when Vivek and I were dating, his roommate saw Vivek’s parents at the train station when he came to drop Vivek off. He came back and told me – “Japoo, I can tell you this – His dad looks very strict and serious, but He’s the one who will be the softee. He’ll be really nice to you.” I swear I never believed him because Papa’s first impressions to me were genuinely intimidating – even if that lasted only for the first few times I met him. But for however grumpy he looked on the outside, when he met a child, he became a child. He knew just how to go to their baby levels to bond with them. And I’m yet to see a child who didn’t enjoy his company. He met Vir for a precious few 2.5 months, but he held him at every opportunity he could. He would try to calm him down when Vivek and I struggled, he’d take him to the balcony and play old hindi songs, he’d grab his pram when we stepped out, hold him during Diwali Puja and Bhai dooj, play with him religiously every morning, noon and night. If he was watching an extremely intriguing episode of Mirzapur he’d still turn it off if Vir was awake and say “Aao ji” and play with him. He spoke to him on video after that and every time he’d see Vir, he would greet him in a typical sing song Helloooooo and Vir would beam with happiness. Vir still looks at his Dadu’s photo and wonders why he isn’t speaking through the frame. It breaks my heart everytime he points at it and smiles.

• Adapt to technology
• Papa was growing older, but his mind was sharp as a razor. He was already the only person in his age group I know who could skillfully make all his utility payments online, book movie and play tickets on BookMyShow, back up photos to his laptop and clear up his phone. With COVID and OTT content going enormously available, he quickly made the switch and if we became Netflix and Prime junkies, he would watch Netflix, Prime, Hotstar, Zee, Sony, MX, Jio – Everything! And he would give US reccos! He learnt how to use PayTm and UPI and on our birthdays and anniversaries, he’d promptly transfer money and tell us to buy something nice for ourselves since we cannot all be together right now. He would connect on Zoom during Lockdown 1.0 and play Family housie like a Pro. He cringed at some technology advancements, but never rejected them. He adapted, he survived, he thrived.

Unshaven Lockdown look - but always on time for Family Housie! 

• Go everywhere!
• Papa spent so much of his life working, but from what I hear from Vivek, he made the time to show the kids what ever places he could – Whether it be a Rajasthan or Kerala trip combined with some wedding, or simple weekend getaways. In the last few years, he was open to all places – We went to Daman & Diu, Coorg and Ajanta Ellora caves together. He also made the time to do two Europe trips with Mummy and really soaked in what each country had to offer. He came back with stories of haggling with some shopkeeper, or helping a couple retrieve their phones and passports. He was sort of ticking off a bucket list. A reminder to us all to live life to fullest and see as much of the world as possible – Life is really way too short.

Somewhere in Europe

At the Rann of Kutch

     

• Stay connected, not overly social
• Papa knew what was going on in everyone’s lives – Without snooping. He always stayed in touch with his brothers, his family, his friends, without being extra social. He made an effort to genuinely ask and understand what everyone was doing and if there was something he could help with. That’s just how he was – He never made a big deal about you not calling him, if he wanted to talk to you, he’d pick up the phone and talk. Whether 5 mins, or 15 mins. I remember initially after our wedding, I’d talk to Papa for 10-15 mins on the phone every few days, sometimes when he was on his way back home and we’d talk about a new movie, a new investment, some new random rules, my traffic ticket, anything random. I’m going to sorely miss having someone to call saying Hellooooo Papa and have a Hulloooo ji come on the other side – He’d answer my call even if he was driving, check if it was an emergency and then say he’d call me back in 30 mins, and he always would. He’s probably the only person from the family who asked me early on about my dad, what he did for a living, how he passed away, where his family was and what really had happened in my life – And he seemed like he always genuinely unbiasedly cared about it.

• Fix things and stay organized
• Mr. Fix It. He would fix everything that was broken, without making a big fuss about it, without you even realizing it was broken in the first place. Be it renewing an insurance policy, updating a passbook, fixing the car, a leaking roof, a broken door knob, he was always at it wherever he went. He always did some home improvement or the other when he visited us and slowly it grew on us, so when we would fix something at home, we’d tell each other how proud he would be if he saw us do this and I’d remember to show him when he visited us next. It was like getting a star in your report card from the teacher and he never held back on that! He also was so incredibly organized, it could put Marie Kondo to shame. If he and I were given the same number of things to pack in a bag, I’d use two and he’d neatly pack everything in one. He was organized with his passwords, his accounts, everything. It’s a lesson to learn and imbibe – because it just became a way of living for him! I still remember him and I exchanging a whispered chuckle when I praised his choice of bag to so neatly hold cash to keep placing into the rituals during my sis in law’s wedding havan – with the pandit reciting mantras in the background and so much else going on. He was amazing, he truly was! 

• Always value money
• Papa came from humble beginnings and he never forgot that. Whether or not he had the money, he strongly discouraged wastage of any kind. He was prudent in the holidays he booked, he’d take the train if the flights were crazy expensive, he’d use a simple tab even if he could afford the best iPad in town, he’d re-use kurtas from years even if we’d force him to buy new ones. He taught me how one can be content without splurging and one’s expenses needn’t explode basis their incomes.

• Stay up to date with trends and current affairs and keep reading
• If he were alive today, He’d have an opinion on the Afghan crisis, the Olympics, the third wave, Kohli’s dismal individual performance in the last test – Everything. And he’d generally be backed by reading and facts, not just whatsapp university. He used his Kindle well for a long time, moving to his tablet and always took my book recommendations seriously. One of the earliest conversations we had was sitting outside the Taj Mahal while the rest of the family went to look at the maqbaras – I unable to, because of an ankle sprain, he out of disdain. And we ended up chatting away for those 30 mins from everything – Drone attacks, to Mughal atrocities, to how dirty the Yamuna is, everything. He just was like that – sometimes Father like, sometimes Friend like. Heck in his last days, he even used the Pawri ho rahi hai meme super aptly.

• The little things matter
• He did the little things for people without them asking for it – He made sure Vir saw some atleast one sparkler on his first Diwali (Though he ended up burning his own hand while holding it up for Vir!), he made sure to order some sweets and snacks from my favourite place on Swiggy for my first Mother’s Day. When we’d go to Mumbai, he’d make sure to buy Kulfis because I would stuff my face with them and stock the fridge (even though at times the others reminded him – but if everyone forgot also, the next day, he’d find a way to remember and do it himself). He used to read my blogs and sent me a whatsapp telling me how he loved what I wrote about learning from Vir and how I should write more – It’s a message I’ll save forever.

• Love your food – with no hesitation
• Papa truly loved his khana – And he was unabashedly open about it. He didn’t care if someone said he ate one sweet too many, he’d sulk about it that night but the next day he w
  ent at it with just as much joy. We loved talking about food and trying new things with him – He got around to really appreciating baos and chicken cooked in pandan leaves. He'd ask with a twinkle in his eye "Achha ye kya cheez hai?" and then he'd give it a fair chance even if it was a very foreign looking thing! The last thing he kept talking about eating was Biryani from Biryani by kilo and Vivek and I made plans to get him 2-3 different types of Biryani when he got here. In the last few months, every time I ate a bunch of purani sabzis, I’d plate it neatly and send him a whatsapp saying “See, aaj ka lunch – Miscellaneous” and he’d say “Very good, I'm eating chhole!”. I learnt from him to not be ashamed of what you truly love! Eat dil khol ke 😊 I'm going to miss you everytime I eat something spicy, or sweet or basically anything tasty! 

Thank you, Papa – for returning a little bit of Dad to me when I thought it was all gone. Thank you for the Father-daughter moments – The getting yelled at for taking you to Ae Dil Hai Mushkil or you insisting I navigated wrong because you turned left instead of right (😊). The ganging up against Mummy for the last piece of mithai she would auto assign to Vicky. The way you’d say “Ab Bas” and pass back the popcorn or nachos, but we all knew you’d take another bite when passed, though you’d tell us we’re forcing you to eat. The terrible Whatsapp jokes that you’d send us and then still read out to us and make sure we laughed at them. The very amusing phone calls when you’d call to ask me how to get Mummy’s phone off silent mode when the toggle was the only thing down, the conversations about world news, EPF interest rates, Bond movies, my father, everything under the sun. The many many stories you told me that began with “Humare Zamane mein” and though I had heard them 10 times, I’d still pretend like it was brand new, because I loved to watch you narrate them with child like enthusiasm. The sitting in the car version of the Mumbai darshan I’d ask you to take me on and you always obliged.

The three of us headed to Daman & Diu - Minutes before Papa & I argued over Google maps!

The heavens are richer now that you’re there – I really hope both my Papas are sitting on their comfy armchairs, a beer in hand, some chicken in the other and watching us fondly. THANK YOU for accepting me as I am, never judging me for being unlike most girls, for always having my back, for 10 years of beautiful memories, for holding us all together like glue, Papa. Thank you for BEING my Papa.

You will be missed every single day.

Our Sagan