Category Archives: motherhood

Bad times and Bed-time stories

What could be more tormenting for an artist than a mind-block that is as stubborn as a pampered 3 year old? Days became months and months became many months, all I could squeeze out of my right brain were unconvincing excuses to convince the dying creative birdie in me. Bad times, really.

And then, there came to my rescue my pampered 3 year old for he is one client who generously allows me revert time of 30 seconds punctuated with non-stop tantrums. However, the creative liberty I get here cannot be compared even with my personal diary entries. I am allowed the world and the space above.

All he wants is a story, he can sleep with.

And then I would tell stories of flying fish and birds that can swim; of babies with tails and tail-less monkeys; of hairy hippos and slimy bears; of a story-loving boy and his story-telling mom.

The reward: big beautiful eyes dancing with excitement, a happy-hug and a good-night’s sleep.

Okay, I know. It’s not a parenting forum where I can get moist-eyed and rant on being mommy. And that’s really not the objective of this post. It is about a very common side-effect of creativity and a very uncommon solution to it. Where there’s creativity, there’s creative block. But what I found amazing was the way my bed-time stories kept my mind rust-free and fresh for the next professional day.  After all it is no less challenging than churning out a creative campaign that’s supposed to adhere to a 50-paged brand guideline.

How dare I compare the regular, outright ordinary task of narrating stories to my son with something that helps me pay his school fee?

Here’s how.

A.      Deadline that’s half a minute away

Son: Ma, story. C’mon, tell me.

Me: Okay baba, let me think.

Son: Don’t think. Tell me a story.

So, according to my son, it doesn’t take thinking to come up with something worth listening. Thinking, as they say, is such a waste of time. May be he isn’t wrong. Even at work, your best shot could be the one that came out spontaneously. With every brush-up, you take it a level down.  And with a time-frame of half a minute, there’s no scope for thinking left. Isn’t it?

B.      The vocabulary allowed is a list of 500 words, max. 

Now, you may have a history of making the CXOs of giant brands open up Merriam-Webster on their iPhones and using words and phrases like folie à deux and idée fixe in casual conversations to your credit and but hey, this job can make you run out of your sea of words. Watch out for that frown on your little one’s face. That’ll remind you the night you had to stay back to re-write the copy that didn’t adhere to the Bible called ‘brand guidelines’.

You might wanna repeat that sentence in a simpler language. C’est la vie!

C.      Dare not try something stale

Repeating a story that falls within the memory span of your little imp is as big a crime as re-proposing last year’s brand campaign to your client and expecting an ovation.

‘Unique’ and ‘Innovative’ are the favorite words here as well.

I ended up telling two stories instead of one when I made that mistake. Phew!

D.      Don’t bore

Wishing to educate and enlighten as you narrate a story is but natural for a mummy. But you need to be as smart as you are while hiding bits of beans and broccoli in his pizzas and cutlets. If the story goes too heavy on morals, you might have to pay with yet another one.

So never underestimate those few moments in the world of fantasies with your kid. There’s a lot to take-away from those little storytelling sessions that may come handy while you prepare yourself for your next client presentation.

Happy Storytelling!

For a cheat-sheet of Bedtime Stories, visit

Tagged , , ,

With higher post, comes greater responsibility

I got promoted. And I wish to boast. So take it as a given, this post is going to be part-boast, part-flaunt.

Till now I was a mom. Now I am promoted to being a mom-of-a-pre-schooler.

‘I am elated’- would be an understatement when used to describe the current-state-of-mind.

My son is 2.5 and speaks like a 5 year old, understands like a 15 year old. He started speaking quite well at the age of 1, rapidly started grasping words and by the time he turned 2 his dictionary had included words that made our brows hit the roof. We were astonished. And annoyed.

So against the advices of people who believe a kid shouldn’t be sent to school before he turns 3.5, I sent him to a small playschool in our own apartment. My point was, if he is grown enough to express himself, answer back and pick up nasty stuff from television and people around him at the age of 2, he can very well use his energies and intelligence to learn something good. And since the school was just a few floors down, we had nothing to fear.

Within months, he could count till 30, know the alphabet well, recite hindi Swar and Vyanjan till the end and recognise almost 8 colours and basic shapes. I was proud. But a little scared. Because deep inside I feared if I am putting him under any kind of pressure.

Few months later, I started thinking seriously about his grooming in the foundation years. I am strongly of the opinion that every kid has to ‘start right’. Some research and few recommendations later, I zeroed down to a pre-school and activity centre called The Circle.

The school is not within walking distance from our home and we had to take the school transport. Again something that makes me cringe. Till now.

But seeing the thrill of a new bag, new friends and new school in his eyes makes me see the brighter side. The mornings are super-hectic. Making sure he gets a healthy filling breakfast and empties his bowels well in time, and then running to the pick-up point carrying him in the lap (while he screams, Mummy bhago mat, ap gir jaoge ) makes me imagine the scene that is going to be in a few years when he starts his nursery school. I shudder.

I apprehensively hand him to the teacher in charge of taking care of the kids in the bus. But the glee I see in his face when he excitedly waves me off puts me to ease.

At the end, I congratulate myself of accomplishing yet another morning only to realise that the day has just begun.




Tagged ,

I am reborn: speaks a mom’

That's Parth

Like a bud, like a bloom,
Like an unexpected loom,
You came to me like bliss,
Like a dewy, adoring kiss

You know I love you,
I know you do,
Coz, you are my bit,
And im yours too.

You smile, you play,
And want me to stay
Coz you know, I can’t live
Keeping you at bay

When I now write for you
O’ my lovely lil’ kin,
I don’t know it’s my soul,
Or God speaks from within

I worship the moment,
the minute, the day,
when you became mine
I ardently pray

O lord, the ruler, the Almighty,
How should I thank you,
To have chosen to gift
A baby as pure the morning dew….

Dedicated to my son, Parth, who came as a blessing 9 months ago

Tagged , , , , , , , ,