I miss you Chandigarh!
Nowadays, as my blog-world knows, I am on complete bed-rest. To kill time and to keep my sanity intact, one thing which I am doing in plenty is reading, though my reading list starts at the newspaper, including its daily puzzle section, then drags to the ‘what to expect’ series….and ends there! Don’t take it lightly, both the books contain around 800 pages each! and I have almost read all of them!!!!!! Now I know about almost all sort of complications that may arise during pregnancy, their symptoms, and when to call the doctor! Say ‘toxaemia’ and I will say ‘yes it is of two types-preeclampsia and eclampsia’ and believe me I know their meaning as well!
Today I was reading about colic and crying babies and how to handle them. And then I realised one thing. I never thanked my neighbours in Chandigarh enough. Chandigarh is the place where Jiya spent her infancy. And she was a very happy, content and cheerful child. This is not a proud mother’s reminiscences, but anyone who shared and remembers those years will vouch for this fact. And the credit goes not to me but to my neighbours that time.
She covered all her milestones well before time, be it walking or talking, dancing or prancing. She took her first independent step in her ninth month, when she was ten and half months old, she was on the dance floor doing her cute Bhangra dance jumping without leaving the floor, my next door neighbour kids Gudiya and Shubham taught her.
Didi and Bhaiya (I know it is a terrible misnomer calling a husband and wife by this name in the same breath, but I used to call my both set of neighbours in this manner only) were like another set of parents for her. Her evenings were never complete without her visit to their house, where she would play with them to her heart’s content, and I know theirs as well!
Once I remember I screamed at Jiya, and the next moment she was at my doorstep to enquire what had happened. I now don’t remember what the reason was, but my memory tells me that I was too fed up and got teary. She lovingly chided me ‘itne chote bachche ko koi aise dantte hain’ and took her home, fed her and kept her with herself till I was normal again. Such was their support that it remains a lone incident- of me shouting at Jiya. The kids were always there to play with her when I needed them, teach her new cute and funny things and I could always depend on them to take care of her. When she was just one and half year old, she could indicate almost all her body parts, even the typical ones like knee, toe and eyebrows and that too in very funny and cute ways. They taught her!
Didi even once cleaned her when she did potty and I was not around!
Then there was our other neighbour Gargi didi. She and her family was my another pillar of support. Once I remember Jiya was suffering from cold and cough and was crying frantically. Hearing her cries, she came down. I had gone completely clueless trying to console her and was at the point of breaking down myself. She went back to her home, brought some garlic pods, searched in my kitchen and warmed mustard oil with those garlic pieces and massaged jiya’s chest and back with it. It was a touch of experienced hands rather than of the novice like me, or the effect of that massage, I don’t know, but jiya’s crying subsided and didi stayed there till she had cradled her to sleep. And then she also lovingly scolded me ‘itna pareshan ho rahi thi, mujhe pahle hi bula lena chahiye tha na.’
I sometimes so much wish that Ankur had not changed his job, which made us to leave Chandigarh and such loving neighbours.
Today I was reading about colic and crying babies and how to handle them. And then I realised one thing. I never thanked my neighbours in Chandigarh enough. Chandigarh is the place where Jiya spent her infancy. And she was a very happy, content and cheerful child. This is not a proud mother’s reminiscences, but anyone who shared and remembers those years will vouch for this fact. And the credit goes not to me but to my neighbours that time.
She covered all her milestones well before time, be it walking or talking, dancing or prancing. She took her first independent step in her ninth month, when she was ten and half months old, she was on the dance floor doing her cute Bhangra dance jumping without leaving the floor, my next door neighbour kids Gudiya and Shubham taught her.
Didi and Bhaiya (I know it is a terrible misnomer calling a husband and wife by this name in the same breath, but I used to call my both set of neighbours in this manner only) were like another set of parents for her. Her evenings were never complete without her visit to their house, where she would play with them to her heart’s content, and I know theirs as well!
Once I remember I screamed at Jiya, and the next moment she was at my doorstep to enquire what had happened. I now don’t remember what the reason was, but my memory tells me that I was too fed up and got teary. She lovingly chided me ‘itne chote bachche ko koi aise dantte hain’ and took her home, fed her and kept her with herself till I was normal again. Such was their support that it remains a lone incident- of me shouting at Jiya. The kids were always there to play with her when I needed them, teach her new cute and funny things and I could always depend on them to take care of her. When she was just one and half year old, she could indicate almost all her body parts, even the typical ones like knee, toe and eyebrows and that too in very funny and cute ways. They taught her!
Didi even once cleaned her when she did potty and I was not around!
Then there was our other neighbour Gargi didi. She and her family was my another pillar of support. Once I remember Jiya was suffering from cold and cough and was crying frantically. Hearing her cries, she came down. I had gone completely clueless trying to console her and was at the point of breaking down myself. She went back to her home, brought some garlic pods, searched in my kitchen and warmed mustard oil with those garlic pieces and massaged jiya’s chest and back with it. It was a touch of experienced hands rather than of the novice like me, or the effect of that massage, I don’t know, but jiya’s crying subsided and didi stayed there till she had cradled her to sleep. And then she also lovingly scolded me ‘itna pareshan ho rahi thi, mujhe pahle hi bula lena chahiye tha na.’
I sometimes so much wish that Ankur had not changed his job, which made us to leave Chandigarh and such loving neighbours.
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