It feels awfully strange when someone you love and loves you, threatens you. Not physically but emotionally. A threat which they know will hurt you cause you saw that intention there, atleast for a few seconds.

Where do you go from there?

Do you believe the threat, do you reciprocate it or do you convince yourself that it was ‘just in the moment’?

But well, aren’t we all humans at the end of the day? Let’s go from there.

A year ago, sometime in April, the little man started with online classes. What came as a shock to both J and me, became a routine. At 9.45am, Aryav would finish his breakfast and login to wait and see one of his favourite teachers and the bunch of nine kids who braved this pandemic like all other kids and attend classes for the first time on zoom.

I don’t like online classes. I want to go to school, was a sentence we heard too many times to be able to keep track off. Everything is open! Why is my school still closed? was a question we never found answer to, and still cannot.

From learning new concepts, to singing songs, to playing treasure hunt and hide and seek – they have done it all. From dictations to movie party to dancing – this online class became something so personal for Aryav, which even we couldn’t foresee.

So today, when it was officially the last day of kindergarten, and his teacher told him a final goodbye, my little human expressed emotions which even surprised me!

I don’t want the classes to end, was all I could comprehend from between the sob which lasted for at least 20minutes. While I tried to pacify him, I realised I was tearing up and so was the teacher who spent all her energy every single day, for one and a half hours, for the last one year in trying to to get these kids to learn and have fun.

That one hour became Aryav’s comfort and safe space away from all the madness around. That one hour way his childhood this year – meeting friends, laughing and singing but everything through a screen.

While I am grateful for my little man’s health and safety, I cannot help but flip through his academic year in my mind, which is crazily nothing but a collage of zoom screenshots!

Whether you leave your five month old, or your five year old, the guilt remains the same.

Today, I left Aryav after almost a year to head out for work for 6 days. Yes, five nights to be precise. Five nights where he will cuddle with his father who will tell him stories that make him laugh and sleepy. Five nights where he will send me an audio message or do a video call and tell me how his day went. And five nights, when the guilt of being a working mother will engulf me again. On and off.

Somewhere in the same city, N was leaving her one year old S for the first time. We are travelling together but it’s the first for her. First time when she doesn’t sleep with her little one since the day he was born. First time when she doesn’t hold him and walk, wait for him to doze off and then put him in his crib watching over till she is absolutely sure that he is down for the night.

The guilt remains even though we know that we aren’t doing anything wrong.

The guilt remains even though we know that our little one will be taken care.

The guilt remains even though we know that we will be back in five days.

Mothers, they tell you.

Amma, everything is open. Then why is my school closed?

Today is exactly 9 months since A went to school. I still remember. It was a Monday. A was dressed in his white t-shirt and red shorts and had just finished eating his breakfast when I received the email which said that for the safety of the children, the school will be closed on account of a virus called ‘coronavirus’. That day, when I told A that he didn’t have school, I didn’t know that it was the beginning of the 9months (and possible 15 months in total) that A will not attend a regular school. That day, I didn’t realise that it would be the year when my child would look out of the window or balcony and ask, Amma can I go out, and the only answer I would give would be a No, there is a virus. And after few months, he would even stop asking me.

Talking with a few friends from different countries I realised that the virus is in its second and third wave there as well but there is a small difference. The schools are open.

How are the schools open when you still have so many cases every single day? I ask out of curiosity, interest and a little bit of jealousy.

Well, ONLY the schools are open.

What do you mean?

Well, exactly what I said. ONLY the schools are open. Restaurants and places of gatherings, weddings, funerals – nothing is allowed. We can have only three people in our homes as visitors. And we socially distance ourselves. This way, our kids can go to school, engage with their friends. It’s more important for them.

When the lockdown was lifted, even in phases, the first thing which opened, in my memory was liquor shops, then came other shops and restaurants, restrictions on number of people attending a marriage or a funeral was gradually lifted, people started going to work in batches and public transportation was also opened. But what remained and still remains closed is schools and colleges. For A, I have been informed that this entire academic year will be online.

Yes, online. Making a five year old sit in front of a computer, or iPad for one hour and expecting him/her to learn ‘holistically’ during this pandemic without any respect, understanding or even consideration. The syllabus remains unchanged, the fee remains unchanged and he would be measured on a yardstick like every year when he goes to Grade 1 next year.

Will I send my child to school if they reopen tomorrow? Absolutely not because everything else is open. The only difference I see, when I do step outside, is everyone doing everything the exact same way with a mask on their face (if I am lucky, cause usually, the mask is on the chin). Everything seems normal for everyone else except for these little ones who haven’t seen their friends and played in parks! These little ones who will spend an year mainly indoors attached to iPads and other technologies because parents have to work from home to keep their jobs. These little ones who should be out playing in mud, getting dirty but instead are getting bored with parents who are finding it hard to engage them all the time.

Yes, it’s a pandemic.

Yes, it’s unforeseen.

But it’s also true that governments and other responsible authorities have clearly shown what is their priority. Opening schools first will not be profitable. Profits are made elsewhere and that is their priority. Keeping children at home is termed as safer. Yes, it is because everyone is outside and everything else is open.

While I try finding ways to avoid more wedding invitations, and offend more people by asking them to wash their hands before they engage with A, I hope you find more ways to engage your little one.

I hope you find the strength to play hide and seek one more time inside your house. I hope you smile again when you see paint all over his/her hands and clothes. I hope you enjoy that book one more time while you read at bed time. And I hope that you enjoy and cherish those little arms engulfing you one more time into 30th hug of the day. Cause what this pandemic did teach me, at least, is that these little human beings adapt to any situation, even a pandemic, if we just hold their hands through it and if we keep reminding them (and ourselves) that they might feel caged, but it’s the only way to keep them safe.

Dearest Hindustan Unilever,

I will not Thank you for finally renaming Fair and Lovely and stopping the usage of words like lightening, brightening and all those synonyms. It was a cream that troubled my teenage years.

Being a dark skinned south Indian in north India, Kali-kalooti was my nickname. Yes, called by many of my school ‘friends’, this nick name became so normal that it stopped impacting me. Or so I believe. And to top it all, having an extremely fair skinned mother didn’t come to much help either. Sorry Amma, the colour of your skin is not your fault, but neither is the colour of my skin, my fault. There were umpteen times when I was asked directly to my face “She is your mother?” How come so much of a difference?” And the difference was not in personality, qualities or anything. It was just colour cause that’s all what they saw.

Random aunties, neighbours have walked to my mother and even upto me to say – Buy her Fair and Lovely. Put it in the morning and before going to bed. Her colour will improve. Like I am some wall, whose Pantone shade got mixed up, and a new paint would do wonders!

The cream did find a place in my house. Yes, it did because at that time, that age, I felt the colour of my skin was not ‘fair’ enough.

So yes, I am not thanking you for changing the name or stopping such discourse.

But I am glad that movements across the world have made discussions on how we treat people from our own country with different colours of skin!

I am glad that atleast there is one less product in the market which made me, and many girls like me, question the colour of their skin and which made me wonder why I was this shade of brown!

And I am more than glad that atleast now, many of us wonder why we never questioned such discrimination before and are opening up!

Your dark-skinned once forced-to-be consumer,
Vandana

Fast forward to eight days from today.

You wake up with a cough, tiredness and fever, all with your toddler sleeping next to you. You know what it is, you get the confirmation from the doctor.

For the last eight days, you did everything told. You didn’t go out unless absolutely necessary. You washed your hands with soap many times, and made all your family members do the same. You engaged your toddler at home refusing even 10 minutes of cycling time. But you did something your gut told you shouldn’t but you did it anyways cause your soon-to-be five year old wanted it and asked you without knowing (but you knew better)

You had a small birthday party. Not 20 or 30 people but just 4-5 friends.

But did they do everything you have been doing? Did they stay home when needed and go out only if necessary? Do you know who they have been meeting for the last 8-10days?

Today – 23rd March, 2020

I don’t want to wake up after eight days and feel that I didn’t do everything that I possibly could have, even though I knew better. This is not a regret I can live with.

Sorry Aryav, we shall cut your birthday cake at home, with just us and we shall have a crazy pool party for an entire weekend once this all settles with everyone you want ❤️

Promise,

Amma

I pray you teach your little human that his/her religion doesn’t supersede the basic tenants of humanity.

I pray you teach your little human that the colour of his/her skin doesn’t define their self-worth.

I pray you teach your little human that his gender doesn’t make him superior, but his actions of equality does.

I pray you teach your little human that profit is important, but not at the expense of people.

I pray you teach your little human that his/her surname doesn’t give them any upper hand, but their merit does.

I pray you teach your little human to give a helping hand to those in need rather than take the easy way out and walk away.

I pray you teach your little human that no job or task is gender oriented. Two functioning hands and legs are enough to wash clothes, vessels and even cook.

I pray you teach your little human that the length of the clothes implies NOTHING.

I pray you teach your little human that a no means a NO. Period.

I pray you teach your little human that love has no gender.

I pray you teach you little human that equality is reflected through everyday actions and not just at policy level.

I pray you teach your little human that NOTHING is worth the life of other humans.

I pray you teach your little human that what this world needs is just more tolerance and love.

They were two.

Dressed in a shiny purple skirt, and blouse. White tights covering their legs till the toe, and a black net over their blouse to be ‘modest’.

I wondered what they were upto, until I saw them up close. Surrounded by close to 10 men, playing drums, they were encouraged to dance to the beats of the merciless drums. The sound of their ghungroo hardly heard amongst the noise, but it didn’t matter.

They were a prefix to the chariot of the Gods, but what was their role? To please the Gods or the humans waiting for the chariot to arrive?

It isn’t new, it isn’t old, even today, amidst this chaotically developed cosmopolitan city.

I wonder who they were meant for.

Actually I don’t.

I know.

Where are you guys? At home or outside?

We are at a friend’s home, waiting to get back to our base home, I tell the husband who started work for the next five days.

Don’t leave now. Wait. There was a shooting in Utrecht. Take care ok?

I keep the phone and realise that it’s not too far from here, under 15minutes to the place where the shooting happened.

What did Appa say, asks Aryav and I don’t know what to tell him?

What do I tell him that someone is shooting at people?

What do I tell him that I don’t feel safe anymore anywhere?

What do I tell him that I have absolutely no clue how safe this world will be when he starts to go out on his own?

Where is safe?

As a mother of a four year old, I won’t lie when I say that I am scared today. Scared of what humans are turning into, and the lengths they can go to. I can never get into the debate of religion or faith, because for me, I think we are just failing day by day as just humans.