My tryst with swach bharat

A few years back, I dropped my daughter to school every day. In this regard, I had to pass a small by lane which is surrounded by slum on one side and a big open ground on the other. The ground was used by the slum dwellers for open defecation. As soon as we would make that turn and are about to approach the ground my daughter would close her nose and everyday she would pity me that I can’t do the same because I am driving an Activa. And very often, I would tell her,” it’s ok. I can’t close my nose but I can hold my breath!”

The ground was lined by a compound wall, and there was a namesake iron gate at it’s entry point. In the morning, people walking in and out of the ground with buckets, paint cans, or anything which can hold water was a usual sight. Children squatting near the wall and their moms standing with their back to them was also common. My daughter would see the children with a wrenched nose. Sometimes if she made eye contact with a child,who is in the process, she would say,” us bacche ne mujhe dekha”( that child saw me). I don’t know how she felt about it or why she felt the need to tell me that.

One day she finally opened up. This is the conversation I had with her.

Diaa: mummy, that child saw me. Doesn’t he feel ashamed?
Me: maybe he does,

Diaa: I think he doesn’t go to school.
Me: what makes you think that?

Diaa: if he went to school, he would never do potty in the open.
Me: maybe he doesn’t have a bathroom in his house….

Diaa: what? How can that be? All houses have bathrooms.
Me: no dear, those who live in these houses, they don’t have a bathroom.

After this statement, she went quiet. I think it was too harsh a reality for her little innocent brain to accept. She was shocked when it dawned on her how difficult life would be without a bathroom!! And leaving her with this thought, I dropped her to school.

From that day onwards, she looked at the kids sympathetically rather than with disgust.

Later during the year, when it was time for the swachch survekshan and the smart city survey, we started seeing some unusual activity around the ground. One day, we saw people painting the walls of the ground with colourful messages on cleanliness and hygiene. The entire stretch of road was cleaned and sprayed with disinfectants.

A few days later, makeshift toilets were installed near the walls and some men and women would be standing there, probably to encourage the people to use the toilets. The iron gate of the ground was closed and locked.

After another week or 10 days later, the toilets were shifted to block the entry to the ground and the men and women monitoring the situation also increased. Still sometimes, we would see people walking towards the ground or scaling the walls. This continued for quite some days, I don’t know how many. Diaa asked me once what these big boxes are. I told her they are bathrooms and she was happy that these people finally have bathrooms.

Some days when the officials were not present, the children would come back to their favourite wall. Again Diaa asked me,” now they have bathrooms. Why are they sitting in the open now?”

Me: habits beta habits, bad habits are hard to kill. It will take them sometime to change the habit.

Then, my daughter’s school closed for summer break and we didn’t traverse that road till school opened again. Also, she was enrolled in the school bus and the bus took a different route. My visits to her school were also reduced only for ptms or any special events.

It was only later, after about 3 months, when I went to her school for a parent teacher interaction. I saw that instead of the makeshift toilets, there was a proper brick and concrete structure. The tiles looked new. There was a swach survekshan poster and few other messages on hygiene.

I don’t know whether the people learnt to use those toilets or not…I don’t know whether they understood the importance of clean and hygienic conditions to answer your nature’s call…..I don’t know whether they accepted that doing potty in private is much better than embarrassing yourself in public glare…..

I do know that the govt and the ward officer of that slum in particular did a good job and I am happy that he didn’t give up on these people and kept on trying to improve their living standards. It gives me hope that finally, somewhere, we have made a start to arrive at that stage where we can call ourself a civilised country and open defecation, which has become synonymous with India, will be a thing of the past.

Locks of love donations

I first heard this phrase a few years ago on my school chat group. A friend asked if anyone in India accepts these donations. Curiosity made me ask her about it in detail and I came to know that it means donating ones hair for making wigs for cancer patients, specially kids. I had never heard of hair donation before. Something just touched a chord in my heart and I decided to do it.

We tend to fuss over our hair so much. Short haired person wishes long hair, curly hair wants straight, straight hair wants curls, high shine, bouncy volume, soft feel, oil control, frizz control and what not. One of the biggest fears amongst teenagers is not about their careers but about losing their hair or premature balding. But the hair on our head is not just sitting there to make us look pretty. There’s more to it. History is full of tales which are proof enough that our hair is our pride. Draupadi was dragged by her hair in the court of Dhritarashtra by Dusashan and she vowed to tie it only after soaking it with his blood. Chanakya was thrown out of king Dhananand’s court with his hair being pulled by the soldiers and he vowed to knot it only after finding a true heir to the throne of Magadh. What happened next is known to all.

Hair help us express our feelings also. Feeling angry? We tend to pull our hair apart. Want to relax? A hair massage will do the needful. Want to get over a breakup? Get a haircut ( don’t know if this one works). One of my most memorable moments with my kids are related to hair. I love it when my son sleeps in my lap and I run my fingers through his hair every morning for 2 mins. This is the only time in the entire day when he is mine completely. My daughter loves combing my hair and trying to make different hairstyles out of it. I feel so loved when she calls me a cutie pie in one of her creations!

Instead of artificial wigs, one those are made of real hair makes cancer patients happy. It helps to build a positive body image. I know the stigma around balding is fast disappearing and people are going bald as a choice also. But to lose ones precious mane, when you are least expecting it, is heartbreaking. In this scenario, if a small donation on my part brings a sweet, unadulterated smile on a sad face, then I think it’s worth it. As for my hair, they will grow back. I will keep growing them till I can maintain them, to donate it to some child who is struggling every moment with his life. Whenever they touch their wig, I hope it reminds them that there is a woman out there, somewhere, who wanted to reach out to you and the best she could do is send you her hair, along with buckets of Hope and tons of good wishes that you defeat this treacherous demon and emerge a winner in the battle against cancer. And when you grow up to be a healthy adult, you get a chance to experience this beautiful journey called Life.

For those of you reading this, if, by any chance, you feel inspired to walk my way, just Google hair donations and you will come across many organizations doing this Noble charity. Just follow some simple do’s and dont’s and you are good to go. I choose Cope with Cancer- Madat trust as they were very prompt in responding to my query. Please visit their website for any queries

http://www.copewithcancer.org/hair-donation

Basanti and dogs

This particular song in the movie super 30 has left me mesmerized. I can’t stop raving about it. It is sheer masterpiece in terms of the writing. There are so many highs in this song for me that it just raises my spirits.

First and foremost is the use of the iconic dialogue “Basanti, inn kutto ke saamne mat nachna!” Well, to the common man, Basanti is the tangewaali from the movie sholay. But who is Basanti here? In this song, Basanti stands for the low class, shabbily dressed, hindi speaking, poor students who feel that they are inferior to their well dressed, well groomed, English speaking counterparts. But in a larger perspective it includes all those individuals who are different from others and who are looked down upon because they dare to be different. And who are the dogs? It’s the society. The so called society, who has set some norms, rules, and guidelines which are binding to every one. So, in plain simple English, Basanti no dance in front of these dogs inspires us to not confirm to unnecessary, irrelevant and pseudo rules of the society. This metaphor is the work of a genius. Lyricist Amitabh Bhattacharya, you are a genius!

Another high point is the tune no no no no no. It is really moving to see Basanti transform all the negatives thrown at her into positives. So the crowd chanting no no no, becomes the tune of her song, to which she decides to dance. It’s heartwarming to see how she uses that to her benefit. Such a brilliant way of teaching us that we decide what hurts us.

One more thing which I feel is the masterstroke of this song is the use of half Hindi, half English words. One particular line in the song goes, ” Teri English, Meri English, sabki English Hindi hai” I feel nothing could have conveyed this better that knowing a popular language which is spoken across different continents is good, it gives an upper edge but that doesn’t mean that other languages are any less or inferior. It’s important to be able to communicate and express, whatever language you are comfortable with.

In short, basanti no dance in front of these dogs simply means don’t succumb to societal pressures. Be the basanti of your life, dance to your own tunes and don’t care about the dogs, they are born to bark!!

A Festival of Minds

Day: 20 March 2019

Time: 2:15 pm

Place: Bhakti park, Wadala, Mumbai

I am taking a taxi with my daughter Diaa, age 6 years and little sister Prerna, age 30 years to The Seventh Sense movement centre, near chowpatty beach. We are headed that way to attend a paint play session by Prerna Bagaria’s Mann Mela. What I am really looking forward to is watching the two angels of my life in action. The elder one, how does she tackle a gang of kids aged 3-6 for 2 hours. The younger one, how does she react to the totally new world of umpteen possibilities which I am introducing her to today.

Time: 4:00 pm

Venue: The seventh sense movement centre

When she entered the venue, after climbing the flight of stairs, three floors to be precise, she was welcomed by serenity, peace, and calmness. The fresh cool breeze made her forget her breathlessness and my daughter seemed to embrace it with her small open arms. First impressions last long!! She was already eager to begin her journey with paints. Unable to contain her excitement, prerna allowed her to help in the pre session preparations. Removing the covers from the canvas boards, assembling the easels, putting the aprons in place for kids to pick, sticking the big mat in place, and other simple ways to take the load off her dear masi.

Soon, the other kids arrive and the journey starts or rather unfolds, bit by bit, stroke by stroke, paint by paint. What I witness for the next 2 hours just doesn’t cease to amaze me even for a second. Armed with a brush, armoured in aprons to protect against unwarned splashes of paint, they start of with a simple session of pencil and paper, move on to paints on canvas, then different paints and so on. The sessions just flow from one to another without the kids realising that they have actually been introduced to so many things. The start of each session makes them more excited and by the end of it, they are hungry for more stimulation, more innovation, more expression and more curiousity.

Then comes the climax, the finale. The young paint warriors set out to conquer the world of their imagination. The canvas is now not limited to their easels, the walls are thrown open to them. The paint brushes are not the only weapons, take your pick from a wide variety of tools or bare hands will do the trick. The aprons are flunged in the air. They are fearless, unstoppable, ready to take the bull by the horn. Next, You see a blob here and a splash there, a stain above and a mark below, a print to the left and a sketch to the right, a drip here and a spray there, and lo and behold!!! The plain boring white wall is transformed into a storyboard. There are stories of

joy,(look at my handprint!!),

happiness( I made a circle!!),

excitement( can I paint anywhere on this wall!!),

Generosity( you share your tool with me and I will share my paint with you),

Boredom ( I have tried everything, now what do I do)

curiosity( what if I dip this tool in this colour and make a splash!!),

Possession (this is my part of the wall!),

revenge( you spoiled mine, I will spoil yours!!),

Friendship( hey look, our colours got mixed to make a new one!!)

There are so many impressions for us to interpret. If only we adults could understand it and if only we were equipped with the sensibility to interpret it. Life is a canvas, if only we let the children paint it the way they want. They want to break barriers, if only we don’t mould them into set shapes. They want to think out of the box, if only we don’t restrict them in boundaries. They want to soar the sky, if only we don’t clip their wings!!!

If any of you wish to initiate the change, then do like the Facebook page of MannMela on the link shared below and subscribe to get notified about upcoming events and camps.

More power to you Mann Mela and Prerna Bagaria.

https://m.facebook.com/MannMelaAFestivalOfMinds/

An unwed father

I grab the newspaper after my morning walk every day. I like to read the parenting and health related pages. Suddenly a big headline grabs my attention. Tusshar Kapoor becomes a dad. The first thing that crosses my mind is when did he marry?? And why was it nowhere in the papers?? Did he hide it so that it doesn’t affect his fan following? You know, its normal for actors to do that. And then I went on to read the content. His son is born through surrogacy….. I got confused, and after a moment or two, I realised that he is an unwed father and the baby was not thrust on him just because he used his sperm to conceive it but it was a well thought decision, taken after lot of soul searching and counselling by expert doctors!!!  Woooow!! That is awesome!!! I felt so ashamed of myself for judging the book before actually reading it. This man here had the guts to follow his parental instincts and he has gone ahead and done something which is such a big taboo here in India. And I am sitting here comfortably and ripping apart his life as if it is any of my business. Shame on you Neha Kedia…..

Single male parent is generally synonymous with a man who has either separated from his wife or whose wife has died. Surrogacy is an option for those COUPLES who are not able to conceive naturally. Tusshar Kapoor is neither married nor an infertile couple. He is still a single parent.  He became a father after deciding to bring his child in the world, and care for him single handedly without marrying. Science helped him and with IVF and surrogacy his wish was fulfilled. I know many couples who are struggling with their kids. I, myself feel burdened by it so many days. And Tusshar has taken the plunge out of his own choice, his own will and desire to raise a life and dedicate himself in his upbringing without a woman to share this responsibility. That is, for me, very respectable and worth a salute. It’s really commendable that he doesn’t think that marriage is the first step for making babies or that you need to love a woman first to be able to become a father. It’s the dawn of a new era. Being a celebrity, this step by him will open the doors for so many other men who secretly wish to father a child but are not able to do so because they haven’t been lucky enough to fall in love with the right women or simply because they are not courageous enough like Tusshar. He has joined the gang of super dads who are not afraid of the responsibility and wear their dad badge proudly.  It made my heart melt when he said that he doesn’t want to talk much about the baby, forget about sharing a picture because, “nazar lag jati hai!!” Awwww!! That’s so sweet!!! He also mentioned that he is learning how to burp the child after his feed sessions. I suddenly find him very attractive and hot!! A man with such a soft heart is bound to be irresistible!!

And as for the little gentleman, Laksshya Tusshar Kapoor (notice the double s in their names?? That’s courtesy Ekta Kapoor; she is the numerology connection in this family), he is not even aware of how influential his birth is going to be. He is already made it to the record books and is etched in history.  His name will always generate remarks about his father and how he bent the rules to have him. I am sure Tusshar must have given this a good thought because the road ahead is bouncy and bumpy. A lot of questions posed by the prodigy will have to be dealt with very sensitively. I am wondering how he is going to answer his queries about his mother. The female donor’s name is not disclosed as per medical guidelines. The child has the genes of one women and he has been nurtured in the womb of another women. He is definitely going to be curious about who his mother is, how did she look, why is there no picture of her in the house, why this, why that. I hope, in fact I am sure he will handle him very well. I hope he tells the child (when he is old enough to understand) that his mother did not sell him but it was an arrangement made between them because he was ready to be a father but not a husband. He was prepared to stay up all night, feed him, change his diapers and rock him to sleep but he was not prepared to share him with his mother. He thought that he will be both father and mother to him. He could have adopted but the laws are stringent and he wanted a child with his own flesh and blood, his genes, his traits. I hope his school allows Tusshar to attend mother’s day events and he can be enrolled in mother- toddler classes with his father.

Think of this. A thought so genuine, so pure, which stems from a simple wish of nurturing a life, and watching him bloom and flourish, with its roots firmly holding the soil of love and some people call it illegal. According to a senior doctor, as per RULES, this shouldn’t have happened. The rules are in place but the legislation is not passed. Thank god!!! In the words of another senior doctor,” no laws broken as none exist.”

All the best to this unique father-son duo, may you experience the highs and lows of life together.  May your relationship blossom each day. May you always be there for each other. Amen.

And inches to lose, before I am slim

Itni shiddat se maine tumhe paane ki khwahish ki hai, ki har zarre ne hume milane ki saazish ki hai
This very popular dialogue from a very popular movie came true for me in my life. And no, it’s not about the universe conspiring to bring me and my hubby together!!! Then Mr. Manish kedia would say the conspiracy went wrong:-);-)
It holds true for me and my weight loss!!! Yes, after just thinking about it for nearly two years, finally I am treading this path now!! And the reason is that in the past few months, some incidents happening around me made me realise that nature was conspiring to make me go for it. It was a big conspiracy of a few elements who either prompted or whispered or shouted at me, “hey Neha, it’s time to get back in shape, you have kept it waiting for too long, but now we will make you do it and there’s no looking back.”

First conspirators are the shoes. I had just gone to buy some groceries at big bazaar and a big ‘SALE SALE SALE’ hoarding at Shoe store next to my destination drew me to enter the shop. I was just shopping with my eyes, scanning the big heap of discounted sandals, high heels, low heels, pumps, peep toes, wedges, etc etc when I just wandered in the fitness footgear section. From amidst the Inc5s, Rocias and catwalks suddenly Adidas, Nike, Sketchers and Puma were screaming for my attention, tempting me to just try them on once. I told the attendant there to show me something in my size. He came up with a shoe and when I was slipping it in my feet, he told me, “Madam, ye bahut accha hai, high on comfort, grip, apt for walking or exercising, anti skid……”, I interrupt him thinking “ya ya ya, they are all the same, what difference will it make?” and ask the price because buying these meant I would have to give up on the wedges and ballerinas which I had scanned earlier. “Only 8000rs madam.” Normally, the price would have boggled me but today it did not bother me. A quick calculation in my mind told me it will be around 4000rs after 50% discount, so the ballerinas and wedges will have to go. I boldly ask him,” discount ke baad kitna??” And he confidently told me,” no discount on sports shoes madam, discounted stuff is in the middle of the store. What is displayed on the walls is fresh stock.” OUCH!!!! There goes my shopping, not just for this sale but for the next one too!!! I put up a brave face, quietly remove the shoe from my feet (which I had assumed to be the owner of from then on) and told him to show me something less expensive but still high on comfort, grip, anti skid sole and best for walking!!! After a few more trials, I finalize on one which will allow me to shop in the next sale season. I bid goodbye to my other choices and head to the billing counter. The cashier there asks me,” madam, sale me se kuch nahi liya!! Bahut accha stock hai, kuch dikhaon Kya, heels, flats……” Again I interrupt him and tell him,” No thank you, next time aaongi.” His asking me that was like rubbing salt on my wounds. Looking at my purchase he continued,” agar aapko gym wear bhi lena hai, then go straight from here. The third shop has good stuff and it’s on discount!!” Why did he emphasize the word discount? Is he mocking me or genuinely trying to help? Anyway, I was too injured by this impromptu and unexpected purchase that I had made to think of anything else. I quickly finish off my grocery shopping and head home wondering why did I need sport shoes in the first place???

Next conspirator is my local milk man. Usually my mom-in-law buys everyday milk but that day, there was none in the house. So after packing off my son in his school bus at 6:40 am, I headed to the shop to buy milk. The milk van had not arrived. I asked the shopkeeper,” Bhaiya, dhoodh kab aayega?? Baad me aaon kya??” “Nahi, nahi, bhabhiji, abhi dus minute me aa jayega. Aap tab tak Ek walk le lijiye, sub aisa hi karte hai.” OMG!!! What in the world did he tell me to do?? Did I hear him correct??? Did he advise me to take a walk?? Another conspiracy by nature!!! Well, what he said actually made sense. Instead of just waiting outside his shop, staring at the distant road for a slight glimpse of the milk van, it was better that I go for a stroll. It’s just a stroll, couldn’t hurt much. And I started off. After a few steps, the calmness of the morning started whispering in my cold ears as if welcoming me. Contrary to that, The cold winter chill had its arms wide open taking me in its embrace as if asking me to give up. I tugged at my sweater, buried my bare palms under my arms and kept walking. After two rounds, I saw the van coming. When i went to grab hold of my requirements, suddenly I noticed that I was feeling a little warm and the same me,who was digging my palms in my sweater to prevent them from getting cold, had already rolled up my sleeve to let some air inside. I thought if I had taken one more round, maybe I would even remove my sweater!!!The winter chill had lost this fight or rather I defeated her. Next morning I was wearing my ‘impromptu, unexpected purchase’ on my feet and I told my mom-in-law that from now on I will get milk everyday after being done with my MORNING WALK.

Next party to the conspiracy is cricket. Yes, cricket. The sport cricket, the national craze cricket, my son’s first love cricket. I live in a society with many buildings, row houses, bungalows and shops. One of the residents, a cricket lover, thought of bringing this sport to life and having our own small version of the IPL. He named it Empire Premier League after the name of our society. In the winter edition of this tournament, When the notice was put out, I read it quickly, just scanning it for major details like the dates, teams, etc etc. Then my eyes chanced upon something. I wondered if I had read it correctly and started scanning it again. There it was, written very clearly, Women are also invited to play. Suddenly a thousand things run through my mind, Cricket….a chance to make new friends….an opportunity to bond with my cricket loving son…brand new, used less sneakers …..running after the ball…..fitness…weight loss…..that’s it, I have my reasons to be a part of this sporting extravaganza and I am going to learn to play. There were two aspects to this conspiracy. First one,the participants in my team were aged 15-20 years apart!!! (Not to mention, I was in the senior category) and second, I had never participated in any sporting events before in my life. The youth, the energy, the zeal in these young girls motivated me to do better and playing a sport made me realise that this is the best form of workout. Participating in this event gave me the much needed push to go after my aim and not give up.

After a few weeks of walking, getting milk and playing cricket, I started losing interest in my little fitness routine and Just when I was starting to get bored of my new schedule, and about to give up on my weight loss thing, nature was ready with another conspiracy, organizing free health check up camps in our society. I went there for my mom-in-law’s check up and ended up getting mine also done.
A body analysis instrument marked me ‘Obese’ after the analysis. Wake up call no.1. The check up revealed a few minor hitches in my health which were mainly related to my weight, sedentary lifestyle and mental health. A minus mark in the bone density and blood pressure column. Wake up call no.2.
The various flex boards put up on display propagating the eight principles of healthy living namely nutrition, water, exercise, sunshine, fresh air, rest, temperance and trust in good karma. I couldn’t say a yes to following even 2 out of these 8. Wake up call no.3.
I walked out of the camp with a form that said at 35 years, my health age was in the middle 40s and in the suggestions it was written, LOSE WEIGHT.
I started my routine again with added enthusiasm and determination.

And now for the final culprits, the innocent souls who I call my friends. Knowingly or unknowingly, even they were a party to this conspiracy. The absolutely fab figures of most of them, their amazing pics in the most flattering dresses, their being active socially or excelling in their jobs and many other things made me want to be one among them. But you can only flaunt what you have!! And it will not be long before I do that.
My childhood bestie, Mona shah Bhalavat, settled in the states, watsapped me to start a weight loss program together. She will follow it there and I will follow it here and we will keep motivating each other to stick to it. Didn’t work for too long, but we are still trying. Another classmate, added me to a Facebook group where women from all around the world share their experiences on their journey from being fat to fit, workout schedules, healthy recipes and ‘Before And After’ pics which are really motivating. She even gave me many tips about incorporating healthy eating habits in my diet which are quite easy to follow. Thank you Mansi. Hugs to you!!

So, “That’s all folks.” like bugs bunny would say. That’s my story of experiencing how sometimes, if you really really wish for something dearly, whole-heartedly, then He makes sure that you get it. Thank you God, for being the master mind of this entire conspiracy. You have shown me the path, in your own little signs but now it’s up to me to prove myself worthy of your kindness. I know it’s going to be difficult, but I hope I don’t stumble upon the obstacles and even if I do, I am able to stand up again, brush off the dust and continue my journey, at the end of which, I can see the real me, pretty me.
On a back note, I need to mention here that my team won the cricket tournament and we are etched in history as the first ever Women’s EPL Champions!!!! Yaaaaaaaaay!!!!!

To give or not to give

My mom recently handed me some of my old toys (doll house, cup boards, sofa, doll clothes and many small nicknacks) and as I was holding each of them, I was flooded with their memories buried in some deep corner of my heart and mind.  I shared their pics with my sisters who had kept me company with these and I can’t explain the splurge of emotions that swept away all of us. Though the doll was missing from the doll house, each article of my lost and found treasure reminded me of how I placed it with all these things and how it looked in each of the outfits. I was pleasantly surprised when my little sis kept asking me if the miniature perfume bottles are still there with the dressing table, whether the red and green chaniya choli which she was eyeing for her own doll is intact and if the refrigerator still has the little coloured water bottles and ice tray

I showed off my priced possession to my kids and they were so excited to play with them. It was like that moment when you pass a family heirloom to the next generation and they feel proud of being their newly crowned owners. It gave me a different kind of happiness to see them play with it and enjoy it like I used to. I don’t know why my mom had kept these toys so carefully all these years and how she felt when I opened the worn out carton and wiped away the dust off them. I don’t know how she felt to see her grandchildren play with the toys her daughter used to spend hours with and I didn’t bother to ask her. I was so consumed in my own emotions to think of anyone else.

But it did make me wonder whether I  should  do the same with my kid’s toys? Am I not depriving them of this amazingly heavenly feeling of touching them and reliving their childhood at a time when probably they would be lost in the hustle and bustle of life?? Today my childhood came alive in front of me through my toys. Should I not make sure that my kids also get the opportunity to go back in their childhood and the toys that they play with will open the gateway for so many such memories.

I, for one, have never kept any of their toys and clothes. Whenever I felt that they are done playing with them and it doesn’t excite them anymore I gave it away to some needy children, however expensive or inexpensive. I always thought that instead of lying in some corner of the house unused and obsolete, it’s better to give it away to some children who will experience pleasure in playing with them.  After all, toys are meant to be played with and not to adorn cupboards or dark corners of the loft. The other motive was to let my children experience the joy of giving, of spreading smiles by detaching themselves from materialistic things. I always tell them be grateful that you have so much to play with and it only keeps on increasing and you must return this kindness by being generous towards the less fortunate,  be the reason to put a smile on some face. My daughter is still learning but my son is not very willing to part with his  possessions, infact, I sneak out old broken crayons, used erasers and I-cant-be-sharpened-more pencils  without his knowledge. Not to forget, every year Diwali cleaning is a big tussel to decide what goes and what stays. So should I or should I not??

I think as I am nearing the end of this write up, I have my answer. I am going to give away the toys like I have been doing and keep, maybe one or two extremely special ones, for my kids as a gateway  for them to go back in time and experience what it feels to be a child again.

And yes, thanks maa, you are the best!!! Thanks for giving me a time machine!!