Awakenings.

The mornings are chilly in January. The kids sleep all cocooned in their comforters oblivious of the noises emanating from the kitchen. They can sleep through anything. I wake up at the slightest noise so I marvel at their ability to sleep in bliss. My husband can also sleep through anything, including, or so I am told, earthquakes. So I am the guardian in the night , the one who sleeps with one ear open and who once awake, finds a return to slumber as elusive as stardust.

The hardest part of the morning is to wake the little one up. She sleeps in an awkward pose with her long legs tangled up in the quilt and her head almost on her brother’s shoulder while her toes are at the diagonally opposite end leaving him with just a narrow strip of bed to lie on. He lies on his tummy breathing loudly like his dad. They both have the softest faces while at rest.

She is easy to rouse while he resists with all his might. But its harder for me to wake her up because she still looks like a baby and she never complains about the hour but instead responds instantly in a daze stumbling about blind till the foot of the staircase. Appu is a lazy creature. He gets angry when woken up unless we are travelling in which case he won’t sleep at night and is up before everyone else , wild with excitement and bubbling with enthusiasm which is not entirely welcome at four in the morning!

Mahi’s face is always tiny when sleeping – her eyelids appear bowed under the weight of dreams. She is a quiet sleeper way unlike her waking self. Appu is just the opposite – noisier when asleep than awake and so lost in deep sleep that waking him is a laborious and painful effort. He does not tell me of his dreams. He doesn’t appreciate being woken up however gently and I find it easier just to be brusque and get it over with. No fun starting the day that way but every mother’s morning is so crazy that she must draw the line somewhere.

I don’t even like waking my husband who if left to himself would probably sleep way past eight in the morning. I let everyone sleep in on the weekends when I am up early and out walking. Weekend mornings are gentle unwindings – unhurried starts to days that don’t have the rigours of fixed schedules. Mornings where I can smile indulgently when the kids wake on their own accord way after their usual time. Mornings when I can take an hour to browse through the papers with music of my choice playing in the background. Mornings when I actually take the time appreciate the beauty of everything around me.

The harshness of weekday mornings when I am in a state and trying to do too many things at the same time grates on me and everyone else in the family as well. I am always yelling at the children to hurry. Sometimes it worries me that their start to the day is not one designed to ensure that the rest of their day is enjoyable. No wonder the children do not like to wake up to another morning of rushing to meet the day instead of being gently led into it. This new year at least I have made a start in that direction in the hopes that easier mornings lead to happier days ...

On the new year...

I have this overriding dislike for the New Year and its attendant celebrations. It does sound sort of morose and negative, does it not? But then that is not how I meant it. I have nothing against any new year coming along. It is part of life. My main issue is with the unrelenting reminders of bring out the old, bring in the new or the exhortations to make resolutions, to become a better person – do the thing you want to do the most and so on. To me it all seems like too much pressure. Sometimes it is nice to feel that your life as it is, is fine and needs no drastic changes to fit into the shiny New Year.

So every December 31st I find myself getting annoyed at the endless articles in print and online about the easiest ways to change, to turn over a new leaf, to move into the next year in a blaze of glory. For some reason, I can never get excited about a date. I don’t get especially worked up over my birthday except perhaps hoping to get a bit pampered on that one day. My anniversary also doesn’t get me into spasms of ecstasy. I remember and am thankful for the presence of my calm and collected husband in my life for without him I would be utterly anchorless. In the same way I am grateful for the chance to see the beginning of another year and am also glad that I have gotten through both the joys and sorrows of the previous year. This gratitude is not one I would choose to advertise through either booze or fireworks. A simple moment of quiet reflection suffices.

There is always a gnawing sense of disquiet about entering the New Year. I feel rather guilty about the fact that I am not yet in that particular place in my life where I want to be. Thinking back, the past year has been both good and difficult. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I feel utterly comfortable with who I am physically and mentally. I have gained a measure of confidence which was formerly inconceivable to me. I sleep better; I often wake up with anticipation. I believe I write better than before.

I am, however not proud of the fact that there have been instances when I have behaved in ways I have regretted later on. I have spoken when silence would’ve been the better option. I have given in when resisting might have proven more desirable in the long run. I have not been as patient with my children as I should have. I have not yet managed to psyche myself out of the mental block that keeps me from writing my dream book or indeed any book at all. I have let myself be hurt by people whom I am better off ignoring.

But the good and bad are part of everyone’s life. I like to reflect frequently instead of merely once a year – keeping track of how one has grown and changed is important. If you don’t know where you are, how will you know how to get to where you want to go? The sloughing off of old debts, pains and mistakes needs to be a constant process so that one is ever renewed and refreshed leading to a happier every day instead – what better way to ensure a more fulfilling year ahead?