Earlier this week, on 30 May, 2016, my daughter Zara (Zara Akanksha Srikrishnan) turned one year old. Friends went 'Wow! It's been a year already?!' I echoed their wonder. Can scarcely believe it myself. It was only yesterday that I could feel her playfully kicking me from the inside, and now she's doing that on the outside!
Along with the usual jhing-bang festivities and customary visit to a temple, this has also been a time for quiet contemplation and celebration unto myself. And while this celebration is personal, there is also something universal in it that I share with all mothers. Not for nothing is a baby's first birthday so special.
So what all am I celebrating? I'm celebrating the miracle of creation, which leaves me awestruck everyday. Every new thing Zara does, every new sound she utters, every new expression her face wears is fascinating. The year has been full of firsts, and will continue to be as she grows. The ones we're used to - gestures, sounds, mannerisms, expressions - are thrilling still; I don't think Srikrishnan and I will ever tire of them. It amazes me to see nature unfold right here in our living room, bit by bit, one smile at a time. I'm celebrating having brought this delightful creature into the world and seeing her bloom; of being a channel to the Universe's desire to manifest itself. I'm celebrating the divinity that has become energy and matter and spirit, in this form that we so dearly love.
I'm celebrating the many blessings that have made this happen; the ceaseless support from family, in-laws, and closest friends. The love that Zara gets everyday from people who haven't even met her yet, but just know of her, let alone from those who have. The nurturing she receives everyday from people at home. Surely there was wisdom in the tribes of Africa (India even?) that treated child-rearing as a community activity - for where would we mothers be without the unconditional love and support of our family and friends, both seen and unseen? The care that starts from when a woman is expecting, and continues when she becomes a mother and slowly inches back towards resuming normal life (the definition of 'normal', however, having been permanently altered)
I'm celebrating having grown up and into this role. Unlike what one might expect, a woman doesn't automatically feel like a 'mother' the moment the baby is placed into her arms after birth. For some it begins before, for some it takes a while. So while I was not a born mother, I gradually grew into becoming one - learning to put someone above all else and look out for a tiny being that needed all that I had to give, and then some more. In fact, the boundaries of how much of myself I am able to give to another person have been irrevocably pushed, and I'm rather proud of myself there. I think every mother ought to be. Perhaps it comes from the fact that this 'other person' was once a part of you, and looking after her meant looking after yourself ('Watch that step!' 'Don't exert yourself.' 'Eat Properly.' 'Take good rest') I'm still coming to terms with the fact that she's separate from me. BabyCentre tells me it has taken her a while too. The umbilical cord tugs both ways.
I want to take a moment here to celebrate that oft-ignored gift, the other miracle that one lives with (and in) - the human body. A woman's body, rather, since we're talking of motherhood here. While I knew I had a high threshold for pain, I surprised myself (and the doctor, it seems) by just how much I could put up with. Every labour story is different, every mother has a tough first few months (and many, tough first few years). But the real stories come out when you begin sharing your own; and you're left wondering at the amazing resilience God has given mothers - physical, mental, emotional. 'Mothers are tough nuts', said my cousin Sweta didi one day, as I was sharing some achy-tale with her. I agree. In moments of sudden realization, I've seen myself on the toughest days - some part of the body or the other affected, chronically sleep-deprived, achy, exhausted, on the verge of collapsing even - jumping to answer Zara's helpless cries in the middle of the night with the reflex of a recoiled spring. Of course, there have been times when I've just given up and nudged the husband to take over. An experience I'm certain every new mother will relate to. And while we all go through such times, we all do have different stories to share. It's almost like no matter how broken down you are, when your baby needs you, this machinery called 'body' swings into action, pulls itself together with a smart salute, 'Yes, Ma'am! How may I assist you?' and proceeds to do what's needed in the moment. So yes, I want to acknowledge all that my body has demonstrated, experienced, created, and survived, becoming stronger in the process. (While also acknowledging every new mother's own personal struggle, told and untold). May we pamper ourselves with many a spa treatment in the years to come!
Coming to the people this is about - I'm celebrating the journey Srikrishnan and I have undertaken together, and how far we have come over the years. From the starry-eyed moment we first met to this solemn time when we are celebrating our child's first birthday. At the triumph of love and commitment above all else. God has been kind. (touchwood). This shall never be taken for granted.
Lastly, and above all, I'm celebrating what Zara is about. Amongst the many meanings of her name are 'Princess' in Hebrew, 'Eastern Splendour', 'Blossoming Flower', and 'Dawn' in Arabic, and my favourite - 'Light', in French. She is all of these to us.
I'm celebrating what she is to me, and what we share. From a tiny bundle-in-my-arms sharing 3am yawns while the world slept, she's turning into my comrade-in-arms sharing mischievous grins and laughter. But there's much more. I often tell people - Zara is my prism and my magnifying glass. Through her all things acquire new light, every moment bursts into a million colours. While she expands my world, she also contracts my core - focusing my energy on what's most important and fundamental, allowing all else to just crumble and fall away - any residual negativity from the past, conflicts in the present, energy-sapping ties or decayed relationships, stresses of all kinds...one look at her and I just know all these are not worthwhile; she is, and that's where my 'Chitta', as they say in meditation, my attention and energy belong. My life has been neatly divided into BZ-AZ, before and after her arrival, much like our BC-AD. It does not mean I have no people, interests, activities, life outside of her. But with her as my Light, life is in the present moment, in the Now, and hence happier, healthier, more mindful than ever before. She makes me want to be a better person, and create a better world around.
So here's a cheerful toast to the year that was - mostly joyful and playful, often overwhelming and confusing, but altogether memorable. Here's to experiencing emotions with an intensity I have never before (Hail hormones! As if I wasn't enough of a Feeling Machine already), love of the kind I have never felt before, and an attachment that can only be explained as evolutionary on the driest of days and mystical on the poetic ones. Here's to a glorious trip around the sun, and many more to come. Here's to Zara, my light.
P.S. - The next one is a guest post, by none other than the husband himself. Daddies rejoice, you have a voice too. :P
