35+ and Feeling Like a Midlife Upgrade... or a Software Crash

At 19, you want to try everything — be a pilot, an air hostess, an athlete, or a fashion designer. You believe it can happen. There’s no fear then. The world, your energy, it's all exciting. You believe you're built to chase dreams that don’t always make sense but feel right. 

By 25, something changes. The world starts programming you. You're told to “settle down,” “be practical,” “grow up.” And somehow, you’re pushed into that life. Maybe not all at once, but slowly, piece by piece, your dreams are traded and broken.  You get a job, marry, have kids, and then you can think you can follow your passion — eventually. 

At 30, you turn back and realize half of your life is gone. Oh, wait… by now, you've faced a hell of a lot of struggles, and you feel relaxed and grateful to have a bed to sleep in peacefully because life has taught you the hard way. 

Then 35 hits.It’s a breaking point. You look in the mirror, and you feel nothing. You don’t feel like the person you once were — the dreamer, the adventurer. Now, you feel tired, detached, and honestly, a little lost. 

You wake up some days, and you can’t find the energy to face the world. The thought of starting another day, going through the motions, is exhausting. You don’t feel motivated, and the thought of taking on another task seems overwhelming. The world feels like it’s moving without you, and you’re just stuck in place. 

Maturity taught you to keep everything inside because your friends are busy with their own lives, leaving you feeling isolated with your thoughts. You’ve tried so many things, but nothing sparks interest anymore, and now you’re left wondering, 

Help me, universe, show me a way out of this fog.

Romance with Robots? Sorry, I Prefer Human Touch 🤖💔👫

I was standing at the bus stop, fully glued to my phone, waiting for my sleeper bus to arrive—no stress, no fear of missing it, thanks to live bus tracking right on my mobile screen — bus number, driver’s number, live location, even the poor guy’s blood group (okay, maybe not, but we are not yet there). The live tracking app showed it was 0 meters away — I looked up, and boom, bus was there. 

But I couldn’t help smiling at a memory from a decade ago—back when travel meant playing "Bus Varuma? Varadha? 🙉" (When’s the bus going to arrive?) at dusty roadside stops. No app, no GPS, just pure faith, sweaty anxiety, and endless staring down the road in hope.

While waiting, you would glance at another traveler. Few minutes later, a smile gets exchanged. Then comes the classic icebreaker: “Enga Porigna? Where are you going?” If they happened to say the same destination—BANG, instant connection. We would swap numbers, talk non-stop like old friends, and ride along as if we would know each other for years.

As I settled into my window seat on the bus, I couldn’t help but wonder—why did the internet take over everything? 

Yes, Internet is amazing. It makes life smooth, efficient, and a little too convenient. But honestly, Dont we miss connection?

The past few months, all I have been hearing is “AI, AI, AI...Aeeeeeeeee!” At first, I was curious, but as I learned more about it and the things it could change, I couldn’t help but feel less excited and more...WORRIED. 

I miss power cuts. Yes, you read that right. Those unexpected blackouts were childhood festivals. My sister and I would have an Olympic-level fight over who got to light the candle and then we would sit outside under the stars, pretending we were deep philosophers while actually dong nothing. Now? Even if the power dares to blink, Wi-Fi backup kicks in faster than our old inverter and everyone stays glued to their screens like AI-powered zombies.

A decade ago, I went to a waterfall and camped next to a railway line—no network, no Instagram tags, no influencer reels shouting “Hidden Gem!” We fell asleep to the soothing sounds of the train passing by and woke up to the calming roar of the waterfall. And guess what? It was pure bliss. Maybe because I hadn’t seen it a thousand times already on my screen.

Fast forward ten years, and I returned to the same place, this time with my husband. But his excitement? Barely there. Why? Because his Instagram reels had a better view, and we were more focused on taking selfies and Googling "best spots nearby" than actually soaking in the moment. The world has changed what once felt magical now seems like just another photo

That’s when it hit me, will my son ever feel that kind of joy? The kind that comes from discovering something with wide eyes instead of Screens? Or will he just pull up a 4D version of a forest and call it a day outing?

My dad used to say that he never actually saw my mother before marriage. My sister, back in the days when a one-minute phone call cost 3.50 rupees, just to talk to her fiancé. And those calls? They were short, but full of excitement. They had that raw energy, that anticipation.

When my husband and I were in a relationship, we didn’t have WhatsApp video calls or constant chats. There was a real thrill in seeing each other after weeks of waiting, a kind of pure excitement that’s hard to explain.

But now, with AI and all the technology we have, I sometimes wonder—will my son and the next generation ever experience that raw, unfiltered excitement? Or will it all just be a blur of notifications and screens?

I’m not anti-AI. I’m grateful for it. But in our rush to optimize every second, are we forgetting how fun it was to waste time? To get lost? To be surprised?

Maybe the real AI challenge isn’t about jobs or robots taking over. Maybe it’s about making sure we don’t forget how to be human.

So light a candle, lose the map, take a detour. And if you don’t have a power cut, just switch off the router. 

The Instant Delivery : Convenience or Addiction?

I was cooking. Yes, Really I was. Then I realized—no ginger!

Back in the day, my mom had a method to tackle this kitchen crisis situation. She would hand me 1 rupee 25 paise—1 rupee for ginger and 25 paise as a bribe for some chocolate. I would go to the local “Annachi shop” (a small neighborhood store), highly motivated by the sweet reward. 

Of course, the journey involved more than just buying ginger. I washed my face, combed my hair—after all, I must look presentable while stepping out. Along the way, I exchanged greetings with at least two aunties. 

Fast forward to today. I don’t have the privilege of requesting my kid to run, he would just roll his eyes and say, “Boomer mother.” Well, I would have stepped out myself? But instead of grabbing my keys, I reached for my smartphone.

Four different instant delivery apps stared back at me—Instamart, Blinkit, Zepto, bigbasket you name it. Some promised delivery in 10 minutes, others in 5. Before I could even place my order, the doorbell rang. My ginger was already here.  

Wow! I felt like I had discovered a life savior. One tap, and everything was at my doorstep. And just like that, ordering became an addiction.

Morning coffee? Order milk.

Feeling sugary? Order biscuits.

Delivery fees? No problem—just add three more useless things to avoid it!

And now going to the store became just like a Goa trip—always planned, never executed. 

Years later, I released the impact of instant delivery – You open the app for something, and next thing you know, your cart has chips, ice cream, and a buy-one-get-one-free packet of something you didn’t even know existed. Oops.

Today,  I looked at my phone, then at my own laziness, and made a bold decision—NO MORE INSTANT DELIVERY.

Why? Because it doesn’t just bring convenience. It brings addiction. It makes you lazy. It makes you spend on things you don’t really need.

So, Step out, walk to the store, hold that purchase in your hands, and come back home with a sense of accomplishment. Trust me, it feels better than tapping a screen.

The One Thing Women Shouldn’t Ignore

In my mom’s time, just saying the word period was taboo. We had to hide those whisper packets like they were our browsing history—stuffed into bags, slipped under books. 

Fast forward to 2025, and now I order them online. The delivery person hands them over without even bothering to wrap them in a black plastic bag. Progress, right?

!*Red Alert**! – Now, I can openly tell my friends, "I'm on a romantic date with my MENses today—so no swimming, no running, no white pants, and definitely no patience—just me and my ever-so-toxic red-flag partner, P.E.R.I.O.D.S!"

No shame, no secrecy. Wow, we have broken those barriers and talk about cramps, mood swings, and cravings like they are just another Friday. But just when I thought we had won the battle against period taboos, life threw me a curveball: P.M.D.D.

What’s PMDD? Honestly, I thought it was some new government scheme—Prime Minister’s Mortgage Discount Day?—and I even hoped my housing loan would be waived!

Turns out, no. It’s Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. And when the doctor explained it to me, I was more shocked.

For months, I was going through extreme emotional highs and lows and my partner response? "Why did I even marry you?" Instead of thinking, "Wait, is something wrong with her? Should I check on her?" Oh well, he’s a product manager, not a doctor. Can’t blame him for treating emotions like feature updates.

Then came the real horror: hopelessness and worthlessness. People said, "You earn, you are independent—why the hell do you feel hopeless?" But PMDD doesn’t care how strong or successful you are. It makes you question everything.

Severe bloating, sudden weight gain—okay, fine, I can deal with that. But then came the suicidal thoughts. Yes, you read that right. PMDD isn’t just bad PMS. It’s a storm that wrecks your mental and emotional stability. And guess what? Most people don’t even know it exists.

So here I am, breaking the silence. PMDD is real. It’s not just hormones. It’s a serious medical condition that needs awareness, support, and—most importantly—understanding. Women in their 30s and beyond go through many changes during their menstrual cycle, especially a week before their period, as their hormones start shifting toward perimenopause. Well, I had to Googled it when the doctor told me—because, honestly, it sounded like a new peri-peri chicken item on the restaurant menu 😐

If you feel like you are on an emotional rollercoaster every month, don’t just brush it off. Talk to a doctor. Educate your partner. Demand support. And every man should be aware of these changes and support the women in their lives during this time. Because no one should suffer in silence.

And to my fellow warriors battling PMDD—you are not alone. It’s okay to seek medical support because your health, both mental and physical, matters. You deserve care, understanding, and a life not ruled by your hormones!

The Weight of Emptiness

I know people say life is complete  

When you have family—  

Parents, a sibling, a husband, a child.  

But what they don’t say  

Is how empty it feels  

When they are just... there, yet mean N.O.T.H.I.N.G  

My son, I protected you so fiercely  

When you were inside me,  

Filled with hope and purpose.  

But now, I am not that person.  

I am S.O.R.R.Y

Maybe in my next life,  

I wish to be an orphan—  

Not because I don’t want love,  

But because I don’t want to look up,  

Expecting hands to lift me,  

Only to find N.O.T.H.I.N.G  

At least then,  

I will march forward without hesitation,  

Without the weight of disappointment.

Teaching Independence to Kids

As a mother, I always believed in fostering independence in my child. It's not easy, and it was not understood by others. But in the end, I believe it's one of the important things I can do for them.

When my son was learning to walk, he fell countless times. Each time, I would clap, smile, and encourage him: "Come on, get up, nothing happened. Keep going!" 

I never rushed to pick him up or make a big deal out of it. I didn’t feel the need overreact. I simply wanted him to know that falling is a part of life—and it’s okay. 

But while I saw it as teaching resilience, others around me didn’t always agree. I remember the whispers from neighbors—some even called me a "****" for not rushing to my child’s side when he fell. They thought I was heartless, uncaring. 

As a mom, I know the difference between a simple fall and a serious injury. And I believe in giving my child the space to learn how to handle himself. It's not that I didn't care—it's that I trusted him to be okay, to learn that he could get up on his own, and that he didn’t need me to always fix things. 

Ah, the food phase—when I decided it was time for my son to learn to feed himself, despite the mess and the post-30-minute clean-ups, my close ones labeled me ruthless for not spoon-feeding, carrying him in my arms, or telling stories while he ate. 

"He will finish 3 idlis if you just distract him and feed him for an hour," my relative said and added, "Didn’t you carry him for 9 months? How can a mom NOT think about feeding him that one extra idli?"

Three idlis for a kid?!? Well, Dr. Pal, looks like I need your help 👶

But, I always treated my son like an adult and I ask for his opinions. He chooses his own clothes from his wadrobe. Even at a young age, I wanted him to feel in control of his own choices. I encouraged him to make his own decisions, trusting that each choice, big or small, would help him grow into a confident and an independent person. 

Yes, I received backlash for my parenting style. From strangers to family, it seemed like everyone had an opinion on how I should be raising my child. But today, as I watch my son make decisions on his own, I see the fruits of those decisions. He is independent, and though stubborn at times (like any child!), he knows what he wants and isn't afraid to stand up for himself. Since I always encouraged his independence, he grew confident in exploring the world around him, even striking up conversations with strangers without fear.

And let me tell you something: there’s no greater feeling than seeing your child learn to be self-reliant. In those moments, I know deep down that I am doing something right.

I won’t lie—it hasn’t always been easy. The criticisms, the doubts, the questions. I heard it all. There are nights when I go to bed feeling exhausted. But then, something happens that reminds me why I do this. 

One night, I had a headache and was completely drained. My 5-year-old son, seeing that I was not well, quietly came up to me with a glass of water and a cool cloth. He gently applied the balm, placed the cool cloth on my forehead with care, turned off the lights, and went off to play without making a fuss. He didn't need to be told to do that. He knew what I needed and cared enough to offer it.

In that moment, all the criticisms I faced, all the tiredness, and the doubts—they all melted away. My son had learned to be considerate, independent, and self-sufficient. He knew how to take care of someone else because I had trusted him to take care of himself first.

So yes, my parenting was right. Not because I am perfect, but I always believed in his ability to grow, learn, and take responsibility. It hasn’t always been the easy, but it has been the one that shaped him into the thoughtful, independent person he is becoming.

The Definition of Love : A Heartfelt Surprise

It’s 12:00 A.M, and the rain drizzles softly,  

As if the world itself is joining my birthday celebration.  

Standing with the gifts, beside the jacuzzi,  

I watch the rain play across the open-theatre.

I remember every time I said, "I love you," you would just smile and turn away.

You never acknowledged my words or whispered "love you too" in return. 

Instead, you always brushed it off, calling me dramatic or flim-eee.

Whenever I asked, "Will you marry me?"  

Your answers were never straightforward;  

"Don’t you already know?," You always replied with a mysterious shrug.

Can you believe it? In all these years we have shared,  

Whether in our relationship or through marriage,

Never ever once you said "I love you."

Maybe that attitude is what drew me to you,  

Making me fall deeply and passionately.  

Yes, I couldn’t help but fall for you, 

And you crafted moments to lead me to propose you.

With all of this, I had come to believe,  

That practicality was all that you were,  

That I should expect no love languages 

or grand gestures from you.

But now, as you slowly removed your shirt,  

My heart skipped a beat.  

At first, I thought, "Oh no, not another child!"  

As you revealed the gift with love in your eyes,

My eyes fixed on it, and I was left dumbstruck.

Never in my wildest dreams 

Did I imagine you would go this far.

Lost in the moment, unable to speak.  

Your gesture shattered my expectations,  

Leaving me breathless.

There, etched onto your chest, was my name— A PERMANENT TATTO

I was flabbergasted, and in that moment,  

Still I am wondering about your love with confusion.  

 

The love you have for me is so hard to follow,  

And, I find myself unable to fully express it in words.

Bond of Mother and Child

This article was submitted for the Making Moms Proud | Mother's Day contest 2024, organized by Gold Winner.

As Mother's Day approaches, my heart reminisce with the unbreakable bond between my mother and me. It was a day etched in my memory, ten days before my due date, when my world tilted on its axis.

The urgency in the hospital walls echoed as the doctor's grave expression mirrored the gravity of the situation. The words "increased fetal blood flow" and "emergency c-section" hung heavily in the air.

Months of dedication to achieving a normal delivery, including a daily 10,000-step walk, one hour of pelvic floor exercises, an hour of prenatal yoga in the evening, and 100 squats, flashed before my eyes. The flood of emotions was overwhelming, and the hopes for a natural birth seemed distant.

In that moment, all I wanted was to avoid the surgery. "Give me an injection to induce labor pain," I pleaded, hoping for a different outcome. But reality set in as the doctor explained the risks, and I reluctantly agreed to the c-section.

In this turn of events, my husband's promise to stand by me broke as responsibilities called, compelling him to depart from the hospital. He assured me he would return within two hours. I clutched his hand, seeking solace in his presence, but he reluctantly released his grip and left me to navigate the anxious hours ahead alone.

The pre-procedure preparations began, but I had a phobia for Injections. When the nurse attempted to insert the needle into my vein for the first time, my hands swelled, and blood flowed heavily. Tears streamed down my face as the nurse made another attempt, resulting in a torrent of blood and tears from my eyes.

My mother rushed to the hospital as soon as she heard the news, joining me in this emotional turmoil. Tears started dropping like rain as my mother came near, holding my hand and asking, 'Is everything really good?'

Her strict upbringing during my childhood resulted in a distinct lack of closeness between us. It was the first time she held my hand; we had rarely touched or sat close for years.

In that moment, her touch spoke volumes, bridging years of disconnect. I have always known my mother to be a pillar of strength, never letting her emotions show. Yet, as I reflect on her unwavering discipline and sacrifices, I realize that her guidance has shaped me in profound ways. Her strength became a living example of how to navigate challenges and pursue career goals.

With her by my side, I confessed,"I am a failure," 

"You are strong," she affirmed, drawing from her own experiences of childbirth.

My mother gently brushed my head and spoke, "Ramya, your sister's birth was a normal delivery for me. However, for you, it was twelve hours of labor, sleepless nights, and ultimately an emergency c-section for our well-being. In those times, c-sections were stigmatized."

My mother continued, "Few things are not in hand. You are strong; you will recover swiftly. This thought will fade once you hold your child," she affirmed. Her words of comfort induced confidence in me as she wiped my tears, and I cooperated with the nurse.

As I was wheeled towards the operating room, I not only went with emotional and physical strength but also with resilience inherited from generations of strong women. My mother's hand on mine, a silent vow of support, gave me the courage to embrace the journey ahead.

Motherhood, I realized, isn't just about giving birth; it's about enduring and learning. My journey to motherhood was marked by challenges, but it was also adorned with support and the enduring strength passed down through generations.

To all the mothers who navigate storms with grace, love unconditionally, and inspire resilience, Happy Mother's Day. You are the pillars of strength, the silent warriors who shape futures with love, courage, and unwavering determination.

As the doctor announced, "It's a B-O-Y... boy," and I heard his first cry, the way of his arrival—whether through c-section or natural birth—faded into insignificance. 

In that moment, he became my world, filling my heart with love.

My First Love

Ah, the sweetness of #firstlove! The fluttering hearts, butterflies in the stomach, the rosy cheeks, and the shy glances—except mine wasn't a typical love story. No, my heart belonged to something on wheels, something that whispered promises of pride: "My First Car". They say #lifepartners are meant to travel the journey together, but here is my life partner: my car, truly my #travelpartner.

In 2010, in my small town of Erode, seeing a woman behind the wheel was as rare as spotting a ghost—utterly non-existent. Yet, I made the decision because I couldn't bear to see my dad commuting by bus or two-wheeler anymore. And so, the quest for a car commenced. 

Those days Chevrolet Sparks were everywhere, with those cute ads blinking on TV. But they were too pricey for me. I went for the Tata Nano—small, affordable, and perfect for the roads. However, dad was skeptical, comparing it to an auto-rickshaw. Then, there was Maruti, safe and secure like a government job. Yet, I hesitated, remembering my sister's wedding gift Maruti Alto.

So, the search for the perfect car continued. We scoured through various brands until we stumbled upon Hyundai's showroom. And there he was—the Eon, with his stylish body shape and irresistible charm.

Took a test drive, instantly fell in love, and made my mind: he's going to be mine. I felt a connection and knew we were meant to be together.

At 3.58 lakh, it was a hefty sum for a young woman like me. Pulled together all my savings from those many years and made the decision to bring him home. I'll never forget the sheer joy plastered across my face as I embarked on my trip with Mom and Dad by my side. That car wasn't just a mode of transportation; it was my emotions.  

Every single week, I would travel back to Bangalore, leaving my man behind, much like a man who leaves his family for work. I left him, promising that I would be back soon. Meanwhile, my dad would diligently clean the car every single day to keep it spotless. My cousin Sanju, who was just 2 years old at the time and adored cars, would eagerly take off his shirt and offer it to clean the car. 

Not a single scratch, not a single mistake—every time I took the car out, it took care of me. We attended weddings together, embarked on temple trips to Pollachi, and even spent a week at a farm alongside him. It felt like the car was the fourth member of our family. So many cherished memories, including that unforgettable drive through the hills of Ooty. 

Wait, wait, I almost forgot about the naming ceremony! It was the tradition in those days, we used to paste all our family names, including maternal, paternal, and sisternal names, on the car. You could leave someone's name off the marriage invitation, but you couldn't miss anyone's name on the car; But Well, Instead of names, I adorned it with a sticker declaring "I love my dad and mom" on the car. It's like a tattoo projecting my love for it.

I won't bore much with the mushy details of my love and emotions—all I could say is it's so close to my heart. 

***Intermission ***

I tied the knot, and like every love story, a villain appeared in the form of BOY BESTIE my husband, ready to give a twist, shake, and brake to the love story that started so many years ago. He always had a soft spot for my car because it was cute, small, and compact—a city dweller's dream. While I preferred to keep my love cruising at a modest 60 km/h, he had other plans, revving it up to a wild 120! Every time he presses the accelerator beyond 100, I would feel like he's trying to pull my heart out. He would always take it on bumpy roads, put sudden breaks, leaving my poor car with pain, and then he have the audacity to claim, "I'm handling it better than you😄!"

Life moved on, and I found out I was pregnant, but before I could even show him the pregnancy test results, he took away my car keys, declaring it unsafe for me to drive. "You'll vomit, get dizzy—not safe," he'd say. A first shock! Like a true BOY BESTIE besides, he was doing his job. 

After that, I had a child, and for the next three years, he insisted, "No, let the boy grow, no more driving." For almost four years, I couldn't touch my car, and in frustration, feeling disconnected from my love for so long, I suggested selling my Eon, but deep down, I didn't mean it. The very next day, a man was waiting with my husband, ready to take my beloved car away. I reluctantly signed the papers for selling and name transfer. My love was taken away without a second look, and the pain I endured is indescribable. Sometimes our love story shatters in a single moment, and no matter how much we wish, it cannot be reverse and life rolled on.

Now, after many years, the discussion of a compact car arose again, and with it, memories of my first love story flooded back. Many years have passed, yet I still cannot forget my Eon—it's more than just a car to me. No one knows the depth of what I went through. 

We visited numerous showrooms and explored various car options. With each car, I found some ridiculous reason to reject, just like the simple excuses we use to dismiss potential suitors during bride-seeing ceremonies—no mustache, too fair, his name is too common...you name it! My reasons for rejecting cars were: it's too big, not stylish enough, doesn't have that girly vibe. 

Oh, then I was practically forced into this marriage with my car. I mean, forced to stick to this KWID. Look at Mr. Climber over there, he looks seriously <BEEP BEEP CENSORED>! He couldn't stand next to my Eon even if he tried!I wasn't ready to imagine anything coming close to what my Eon means to me. "You were my first love, I can't have anyone in your place," I silently whispered.

Just like a forced marriage where we whisper, "Dai, don't tie the knot, don't tie the knot!" There he is, tying my knot of marriage over. Well, I meant I paid an advance for Renault KWID, a month ago. 

But I really did not like him. I know I can't take it anymore; broken is broken, shatter is shatter. I firmly decided I don’t need KWID. I declined, realizing I didn't need it, and moved on. Yes, a car is an emotion for a few, especially when it brings such profound feelings for you and your family. When I was alone, it traveled with me, a faithful companion on my life's journey. For me, the Eon isn't just a car; it was my love and will be love, my trusted companion on the road(Journey) of life.

Yes, we all have these first loves—be it people, houses, cars, or jobs—that remain unfulfilled due to family situations or other circumstances. They leave an indelible mark on our hearts, shaping our memories and experiences for years to come. But the pain we carry remains hidden because, as they say, life moves on.  

Goa to Growth

This article won the Writing Contest organized by NTT DATA.

I am uncertian who in the world likes me,  but I do know one thing for sure – the fate has a serious crush on me, constantly throwing in unexpected twists, connections, experiences, and opportunities in my life. (It's like the universe's way of saying, "evolo adichalum thanguran, iva romba Nalava da...")

One such connection between Goa and my journey with NTT DATA have made an impact and transformed my life.

It all began during a much-anticipated family trip to Goa, a needed escape after the dark cloud of the COVID-19 pandemic. As I soaked up in the warm embrace of the sun and relished the joy of being with my loved ones, a call from HR brought the news of my eagerly awaited offer letter. Fate had a funny way of aligning the stars, as my joining date happened to fall on the infamous 13th of June. Superstitions surrounding the number thirteen danced in my mind, but I couldn't resist the synchronicity of the situation. Despite my playful plea to change the joining date, it remained unchanged. And so, my journey with NTT DATA began on 13th June.

I embarked with a new project, presenting a myriad of challenges, and learning opportunities. Bullets of adversity seemed to rain down from every direction, testing the limits of my resilience and determination. Yet, I pressed on, surviving, and surpassing each trial. Through this journey, I realized that every struggle was moulding me into a stronger, more capable version of myself.

Day after day, I embraced the exhilarating dance of growth and evolution. I discovered that there is no such thing as an ordinary day. Every single day is a chance to learn, adapt, and thrive. This realization transformed my perspective, infusing a renewed sense of purpose into my work and personal life.

And did I mention about the connection between Goa and NTT DATA? Well, it lies in the journey itself—just as Goa surprises with an exquisite beaches and vibrant nightlife, my journey with NTT DATA has been filled with unforeseen twists and late-night coding sessions fuelled by countless cups of chai, innovative ideas that blossom amidst collaboration with talented colleagues, and the triumph of overcoming challenging goals—all these moments have contributed to the journey of my enthralling experience.

And yes, just like a sun kissed Goan sunset, we always emerge stronger, innovative, and ready to conquer the countless adventures that still lie ahead.

Surviving LKG Admissions

I heard rumors about parents camping overnight just to hitch that golden ticket—the LKG admission form. I thought those were jokes until we had to camp out at night for my son's LKG admission form.

A chilly night, sleeping bags, and a campsite those are the mental images that pop up when I think of trekking. But today, here we are camping outside the school gate, navigating the wild terrain of kindergarten admission.

It was 5 AM, and we queued up in a line longer than the first-day, first-show ticket queue for a Rajinikanth blockbuster. Please forgive for comparing a valued education with that of a movie star – but, hey, kindergarten admission waits for no one, not even Thalaiva! 

The admission counter swung open its doors promptly at 9 AM, and we were sorted into neat rows by classes—LKG, UKG and so on. As there were limited availability of application forms, our early rise proved fruitful in swiftly navigating through the initial hurdle of acquiring that document. With the prized application form secured, it was time to gear up for the next level of this academic game.

Now, we braced for the first hurdle—shortlisting. The school invested an entire month meticulously reviewing and shortlisting the submitted application forms. Guess what? We cracked the code, and the school hit us with the silver ticket – an interview scheduled for Nov 21. 

Interview Day:

As parents, we naively assumed the preschool interview would be a breeze—just the basics, you know, like name, age, and maybe a casual "hello" and "goodbye." But we never thought would've thought that getting into preschool would be as intense as a job interview for a CEO position. 

While other parents were arming their toddlers with flashcards and rehearsing the ABCs, we took the laid-back approach. "Let my little one perform from the heart," we thought. Oh, how innocent we were.

But then we decided and prepped our little prodigies with the crucial life questions: "What's your name?" "What is your mom name?" "What is your dad name?" and for some extra credit, "What's your grandparents' names?" Genius, right?

The day arrived, and we were the first ones to reach the school at 1:00, even though the interview was scheduled at 1:30. They let us inside first. Our kiddo walked into the interview like a mini rockstar, and the teacher started with the first three questions, confidently answering them. We were mentally high-fiving each other, feeling like the we cracked the preschool prep. But then came the twist: the teacher pulled out a sheet with questions and marks and said, "Let's get into the interview."

Wait what—no, a question paper! Fifty marks worth of questions, if you can believe it. Ten for math (yes, math for LKG!), ten for colors, ten for speaking(Generic questions), ten for moral values, and ten for shapes. 

Then they handed my kid a bunch of crayons and said, "Go Hethvick!" The task was simple: the teacher called out a color, and my little artist had to pick that color and paint it inside a designated box labeled with the color name. They threw ten colors at him, and my boy nailed every single one.

Then, the interview took a cosmic turn. They asked him, "What comes in the morning? What comes in the evening? And if the moon shows up, what's do you do?" Seriously, who knew LKG admissions would require a strategy for lunar encounters?

Surprisingly, my little one responded to all the questions. It was only later that I realized this was an ICSE admission interview, and that's why they asked most of the questions with a twist.

But lo and behold, my son aced every question thrown his way. That's when it dawned on us—the incredible power of his observations. Even when the questions took a twist, my kiddo didn't miss a beat—answering them with ease and leaving us in awe of his adaptability.

But the twists didn't stop coming. Next up was a challenge to identify numbers from 1 to 10 on a mysterious scale. They'd call out a number, and my son had to pinpoint it amidst a tight cluster of numerals. Then, just when we thought it couldn't get more interesting, they threw in shapes like circles and rectangles, asking him to showcase his shape-spotting prowess. It was like a mini-game show, and my little contestant was stealing the spotlight! 

Finally, when the marathon concluded, the teacher spun around and aimed the spotlight on us, launching a barrage of questions. "What's your purpose? How will you teach your kids when you're both working?" It felt like we were on a reality show, and the prize was our kid's admission. Once the inquisition was over, the teacher gracefully transitioned into explaining the fee structure and admission process, as if we had just survived a quirky game show episode. 

That's when the wave of confidence hit us like a kindergarten success tsunami! But, alas, for the final result we had to endure an additional month of anticipation. It's not just about academic prowess; there are bonus points for being a Christian, having a preference for teachers in the family, alumni connections, and the list goes on. Fingers crossed we ace these criteria too; it's like navigating a maze of admission intricacies! 

Love Takes Over

As I sit down to write this letter, you are just a 4-year-old boy, eagerly preparing for a 10-day stay at grandparents' house for the Dussehra holiday.

Happy Family Enjoying a Picnic Together

When I first made the decision to send you to grandparents' home for this holiday, my uncertainties lingered. Your uncle had plans to pick you up from Bangalore, and I wondered if you would willingly join him and enjoy the 10 days without us.

But you were so eager and enthusiastic about the idea of spending time with grandparents, aunt's family, and cousins Raakshit and Sravantha. I watched you pack your little bag with such care, and every night, you slept with it right beside you. Your excitement was infectious. You even prepared pizza for your uncle, saved chocloates, cleaned the house, and made the beds for him, and it made me smile to see you so independent, even at such a tender age. 

Getting ready🌴 My little explorer carefully packing #FamilyVacation #TravelPrep

As a parent, I consciously made this decision because I wanted to teach independence through this. Above all, I want you to embrace the unconditional love that your grandparents and aunt's family are showering upon you and kindle the bond with cousin.

I will miss you for these ten days, but that's how life goes. I know, as a parent, I must be prepared for this. And then, when it is time for your graduation, you might have dreams that take you across the ocean. I will admit it or probably cry at the thought of you being so far away. But I must be strong, remembering that you are pursuing your dreams and becoming the person you want to be.

Again, One day, you will stumble upon the love of your life, tie the knot, and spread your wings. The thought of you leaving the nest is a hard pill for me to swallow, but I'll bear it because I realize it's a life's slice and crucial for your happiness and personal growth😄. Hence, As mother and son, we must learn to live independently, embracing life's core values like finding happiness within ourselves. Whether we stay with our loved ones or venture to new places, we should be adaptable.

Thinking about all this, I was hoping that when you wave bye now, I would be over the moon, thinking I would finally get a break from your mischief with the sensation that "pondati oorukku poita" (wife has gone to her maternal home), and I would be scream "my son oorukku poitan" (my son has gone to his grandsparents home)! 😂 #MomLife

But when I waved you goodbye and returned home, it was like a ghost town. The floors were as dry as a desert, missing your magical ability to turn them into a water wonderland. The walls cried out for your artistic touch, and I yearned for our heartwarming chats with your sweet, eye-blinking reactions. The house stood frozen in time, akin to a museum exhibit, with everything perfectly in its place. 😄🏡 We missed the sight of you rushing to the doorbell, eagerly anticipating a parcel or a visitor. The shelf I had tidied up remained shockingly neat, defying your playful nature. I always caution against bed-wetting, but when the bed stayed fresh, spotless, and fragrant, I couldn't help but miss you😄

My dear, hey, wait, I am the one missing you here! Do you really miss me? You have been so happy for the past week, not showing any signs of missing me. Of Course, every kid will go crazy when they have zero restrictions to dive into mounds of chocolate, binge-watch shorts on mobile devices, and, best of all, revel in maximum pampering! 😄🍫📺🛋️. So, I know you might not miss me! 😉 And I understand you were probably trying to escape from this "super spy strict mom." 🕵️‍♀️😂

However, as you bid goodbye, I glimpsed your face, and for a brief moment, it bore a wistful expression. It spoke volumes of the love you hold for us.

With all my love,

Your mamma

Flying High with Loved Ones : A Journey of Love

When it comes to celebrating the special people in our lives, finding the perfect gift can be a challenge. For me, that special person is my husband, and I have always believed that a gift should be unique, memorable, and filled with love. 

Party like it's your day

Having previously presented him with 33 diverse gifts for his 33rd birthday, each with its unique meaning, I found choosing this year's gift to be quite a challenge. Moreover, he had already set the bar high for my own birthday celebrations. Hence, I was determined to create a birthday experience that he would cherish forever.

The Idea Takes Flight:

While I was brainstorming ideas for the perfect birthday gift, a conversation sparked by watching the movie "Vimanam" ignited his deep desire to take his parents on a flight journey at least once in their lifetime. That is when it hit me – his birthday gift would be a surprise flight experience for his parents!

The Planning:

With this exciting idea in mind, I started planning our journey. I knew that I had to keep this a secret from my husband to make it truly special. His parents were due to visit us in Bangalore around Grandparents' Day on September 9th, but they had not confirmed their travel plans yet due to thier work commitments.

Selecting the Destination:

Selecting the perfect destination was of paramount importance. I had to meticulously select a place that not only offered comfort but also catered to their health requirements, ensured timely meal arrangements, and a shorter travel duration. With just three days remaining, the timeframe was relatively short, and flight ticket prices were on the rise, while most resorts had already been booked. 

With these challenges, my plan was still wavering between various flight journeys, including options from Bangalore to Goa, Bangalore to Chennai, Bangalore to Coimbatore, or even Bangalore to Mangalore. However, since Goa and Mangalore were relatively unfamiliar to us, I decided to stick with the familiar route Chennai or Coimbatore.

I considered the itinerary which involved traveling from Bangalore to Coimbatore via flight and then reaching Erode via cab, but I had concerns that the trip might feel too short for the grand birthday celebration I had in mind.

Finally, after a lot of contemplation, I settled on the Bangalore to Chennai flight route, striking the right balance for our trip. But there was another decision to make – the destination. Should it be Chennai, Mahabalipuram, or Pondicherry?

The Surprise:

As soon as their parents confirmed their trip to Bangalore, on September 6th, I took the plunge and booked Air Asia flight tickets for all of us, including my 4-year son, who would be experiencing his first flight journey. I was thrilled but nervous, knowing that I had to keep this a secret from my husband until the big day.

Making it Extra Special:

Our flight was scheduled to land in Chennai at 5:15 PM, and the next item on my agenda was to arrange for transportation for our commute. When I attempted to rent a vehicle, I found that most rental services required us to go to their office to pick up the car and return it afterward, which would eat up a significant amount of our precious time. 

That is when my brain decided to sprinkle on some extra surprise and excitement. I reached out to the one and only Ganesh Anna for some expert advice. And guess what? He came up with this gem of an idea - "Take a pit stop in Mahabalipuram, a wonderful place" 

And just to show how grateful we were for his "world-class" expertise, we convinced him to lend us his car for a two-day. He was such a sweetheart that he showed up at the airport, car keys in hand, ready to hand over the keys for our ride!

So, here is the master plan, folks! The Itinerary goes like this:

**Saturday: ** The big day! At 12 o'clock sharp, I will unveil the surprise to my husband. The next day book us a cab to whisk us away to Bangalore airport. Our destination: Chennai. From there, we will head straight to Mahabalipuram for a peaceful night's stay, where we can kick back and bask in the coastal beauty.

**Sunday:** After a leisurely morning in Mahabalipuram, we'll either make our way to Pondicherry or decide to stay and explore Mahabalipuram itself (which we lovingly call "Pondy Junier."). 

Then, on Monday, we will return to Erode or Bangalore. 

Birthday surprise: Mission accomplished

As the days drew closer to my husband's birthday, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. The anticipation of the surprise and the joy of creating this special memory for my husband and his parents filled my heart with happiness. Sometimes, the best gifts are not material possessions but experiences that bring loved ones closer together, and I couldn't wait to see the smiles on their faces as we embarked on this unexpected travel. Stay tuned to find out how the surprise unfolds and the memories we create along the way!

Click here to read the Birthday Surprise

Midnight Cake and Dance Parties: My Birthday Bliss

 A Birthday to Remember: Celebrating Life, Love, and Unexpected Surprises

It was August 9, and I couldn't help but feel the excitement brewing. This year, as I mentioned, it's going to be a milestone birthday. and I decided to take the day off on August 10th. 

My husband's plan was to lull my child and me into a deep sleep so he could decorate and surprise us at the stroke of 12:00 AM. But our son had some plans of his own. He chose to break his usual sleeping schedule, keeping the excitement alive until 11 PM, in contrast to his usual bedtime of 7:30 PM.  Zany...Birthday excitement was spreading through the house!

With the workday behind us, we hopped into the car for a night journey at 10 PM. Our goal was to get a birthday cake to cut at midnight and discover an ideal spot to welcome the new year of my life. After a 15-mile drive and scouting until 11:30, our cake quest hit a roadblock – no cake shops in sight! But just when it seemed like a cake-less birthday, fate intervened. We spotted a half-shuttered Baskin Robbins about to close. When we inquired about the reason for not closing the shop, he added, "The shop's regular closing time is 10 PM today, but I couldn't meet the targets, so I decided to keep it open. The main reason for only using the half-shutter is that the police could come by at any time."

We quickly nabbed a cake, revved up the car, and headed to a party hall. The party hall stretched out expansively before us, with the romantic glow of a lavish restaurant arrangement, and to our delight, we discovered that we were the sole occupants of this enchanting space. It was as though the universe had conspired to reserve it exclusively for our rendezvous.

We ordered tasty chicken, and at midnight, we gathered around to cut the cake, where my husband surprised me with not one but seven beautifully wrapped boxes! It turns out, they were all handmade Jewelry crafted with real flowers from leafy affair. 

The morning sun greeted us, and my little one headed off to school. My husband and I decided to spend some quality time together by playing a game of table tennis and reliving the joy of our companionship. The afternoon brought a unique excitement: a movie date. It was the first day, the first show, and my son, who was an ardent admirer of Rajinikanth, eagerly wanted a whistle. We arrived at the movie hall early and decided to pass the time by playing games at Timezone. My son aimed to buy a whistle with the points he had earned, but they fell short. We were prepared to purchase it, but the shopkeeper informed us that it could only be acquired with points. She suggested that we engage in a game that would earn us more points and encouraged me to participate in my son's games to accumulate more. After a few rounds and gathering enough points, we finally purchased the whistle, and it turned out to be an absolute blast! Playing with my son in the kids' section, felt like having another cherished memory. 

The day remained brimming with energy, and when we returned home, thinking the delightful surprises were over, I was pleasantly taken aback by yet another cake. This time, it was a thoughtful gift from my husband through FNP, and they presented it beautifully, resembling a bouquet. This surprise deeply touched my heart and added an extra layer of specialness to my day. 

Later, We went to dinner at Gold Rush, a cowboy-themed restaurant where the wide-open space offered a genuine taste and far away from the madding crowd. After spending a lot of time together, we finished dinner, and as we were leaving, we realized they had a dance floor. To our surprise, no one was there, and the DJ played songs just for us. Once again, the three of us enjoyed the music and danced like nobody was watching, celebrating the happiness that life brings.

As night settled in, I found myself on the balcony, lost in thoughts, the moonlight casting a romantic glow around me.It was in these quiet moments that I realized how incredibly fortunate I am, surrounded by the love of my family and the beauty of life itself.

Tickles and Tears

It was a seemingly ordinary evening when I decided to take my son out to play. Little did I know that a valuable, albeit painful, lesson and some damage awaited me.

As we were enjoying ourselves, small raindrops began falling on my cheeks, signaling that a heavy downpour was on its way. Realizing this, I urged my son to head back home, but he was determined to go to the indoor play area instead. I had no choice but to follow him.

The rain soon intensified, accompanied by strong gusts of wind that seemed relentless for a continuous 15 minutes. Panic set in as I remembered leaving my bedroom window open, and I live on a sky-scraping floor. The thought of my laptop and other belongings being flooded terrified me. I also questioned if I had closed the main living room door. Stuck inside due to the rain, those 15 minutes felt like an eternity under immense pressure.

When the rain finally stopped, I pleaded with my son to head home, but he was busy playing with his friends and refused. Seeing my distress, a kind friend offered to take care of him while I rushed back. However, upon returning, I found my bedroom in a state of chaos. All my laptops were soaked, the bed was completely wet, and precious books were now damaged. 

Initially, I felt anger towards my son for not coming with me when I asked him to, as it could have prevented this incident. But now, I realized there was no use dwelling on it; the damage was done, and cleaning up would take 45 minutes of my time. I had to prioritize picking up my son since my friend couldn't look after him for long due to other commitments.

On my way to get my son, I remembered that the incident was partly my fault too. I should have closed the window before leaving. It wasn't fair to expect a child to anticipate such occurrences, and closing a window for a short out might not be practical. My anger subsided, and I learned the value of postponing my reactions.

Upon reaching the indoor play area, I explained the situation to my son, hoping he would show some shock and decide to come home with me. However, with a big smile, he simply said, "I want to play."

At first, this frustrated me, but I managed to ask him politely to come with me. After 15 minutes of pleading and patiently waiting, he finally agreed to come with me.

As we reached home, he hurried to the bedroom to see the flood. On spotting the pool of water, he couldn't resist turning it into a splash zone! He jumped in like a dolphin, thoroughly enjoying himself. II reached for the mop to clean up, but he snatched it from me, eager to help. However, he ended up making an even bigger mess. 

During my busy working day, 45 minutes is precious time I can't afford to invest. I had important meetings to attend as well. Growing angrier, I requested him to hand me the mop, but he refused.Frustrated, I left the place and started cleaning up once he was done.

As a parent, I've always aspired to be gentle, opting for a friendly approach rather than raising my voice and yelling in frustration. However, I've come to realize that the children of today have an uncanny ability to test our patience and drive us to the edge of madness.

As tears welled up in my eyes, I couldn't help but think, where my parents never even bothered to support me for a day.

As I grappled with the urge to escape to a place where solitude reigned, my mind echoed a wise reminder: "While children may test our limits, it is essential to find a balance between firmness and empathy, We must learn to foster a loving relationship with our little ones, regardless of the challenges that come our way."

Trapped in Darkness: A Thrilling Survival

Struck in the Lift

As I stepped into the lift, a sense of unease washed over me. Thoughts raced through my mind, filling me with worry and fear. Ignoring these feelings, I pressed the button to go down to the ground floor, unaware of the ordeal that awaited.

Suddenly, the power went out, leaving me in complete darkness. Panic took hold as I realized I couldn't see anything. I reached for my phone, hoping to find some light or a way to call for help. But to my dismay, there was no signal. I was cut off from the outside world, alone in the darkness.

Time stretched on, and my panic grew. I tried shouting for assistance, but there was no response. The lift remained still, refusing to open its doors. I felt isolated and helpless, with no way to escape the terrifying situation.

Fear consumed my thoughts, flooding my mind with dreadful possibilities. What if the lift was broken and it would take hours for anyone to notice? How would I survive in this confined space for so long? These thoughts weighed heavily on me, intensifying my anxiety.

Just as despair threatened to consume me, a flicker of hope appeared. The lift jerked back to life, slowly opening its doors. Relief washed over me, and I felt a surge of adrenaline. It was my chance to escape from the suffocating darkness.

I stumbled out of the lift, grateful to be back in the outside world. Though I still had a pounding headache and my heart raced, I was filled with a sense of freedom. Overcoming my deepest fears, I realized the strength within me to face adversity head-on.

My terrifying experience of being trapped in a broken lift taught me the power of resilience. No matter how dark or uncertain a situation may seem, we have the ability to find the light and emerge stronger than ever.

The day when even my coffee needs a coffee!

"Friday Friday, Party night, Party night" - After a week of tireless work, we indulge in a Friday night filled with singing, rocking, and devouring chicken feasts, while sipping on refreshing Coke and immersing ourselves in an epic movie marathon. It's the perfect way to recharge and reward ourselves for our top-performing efforts.

But today wasn't the right moment to celebrate the end of the workweek. Just like me, some of us feel a jumble of emotions on Fridays, especially when the pressure of deadlines and responsibilities becomes too much to handle.

For the past month, I had been tirelessly working on a project, which forced me to sacrifice my weekends. The exhaustion had taken its toll, and I woke up that morning wishing I could have slept forever. The feeling was akin to torture, and anxiety began to seep into every crevice of my being.

As I battled my own inner turmoil, I noticed my son pleading with us, "I don't want to go to school." His innocent plea caught my attention and tugged at my heartstrings. In that moment, I realized the impact of my stress was having on him. 

In that moment of realization, my super-parenting instincts kicked in. I decided to turn the situation around and transform it into a positive experience for both my son and myself. So, I gently reminded him of my unwavering commitment to attending school every day, proudly mentioning my perfect 100% attendance record.

Meanwhile, my mindvoice whispered, "Ah, the Oscar-worthy performance of my stomach pain drama, a classic tactic to secure a day off from school." 

But my son, in all seriousness, started pleading with earnestness in his eyes.

To lighten the mood, we made a promise to our son. We would let him go to school for only half a day and skip daycare afterward. His face lit up with joy at the prospect of an unexpected adventure. He agreed, on the condition that we only packed one snack box, instead of the usual two. When it came to daycare, he firmly believed in the mantra of two lunch boxes

With our compromise in place, I dropped him off at school, eagerly awaiting lunchtime when I would pick him up. As the clock ticked away, and when the time finally came, I rushed to pick him from school.

With a beaming smile plastered on his face, he came out of school reveled in the bliss of skipping half a day of daycare. The satisfaction on his face was simply priceless.

My thoughts turned inward. I pondered over the question, "Who can help me free my pressure?" 

Work-Life Gone Wild

Life has a funny way of throwing unexpected challenges at us, especially when we think we have everything under control. Like a fearless circus performer effortlessly tossing balls through the air, I prided myself on the balancing art of juggling between personal life and professional life.

As fate would have it, the week that followed turned into an endless cycle of never-ending meetings. Since morning, I had been sitting in front of my laptop, experiencing back pain. As the night approached, the walls appeared to spin around me, engulfing me in a whirlpool of conversations, presentations, and deadlines.

Amidst the chaos of extended work hours, my laptop became the stage for a peculiar performance. Java coding, usually familiar and comprehensible, now danced before my eyes in a foreign language, leaving me bewildered. 

Just when I thought things couldn't get any more chaotic, my son's cries. In a mad rush, I hurried to his side, desperately trying to calm him down and soothe his distress. The exhaustion from work merged with the exhaustion of parenthood, creating a cocktail of fatigue that threatened to overwhelm me.

In the midst of this whirlwind, a message unexpectedly popped up on my screen. It promised a source of income, stating that by allowing a tower to be placed on my house, I could earn an impressive sum of money. In that moment, I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. It felt as though the weight of the world was already on my shoulders, so why not add a tower on my head to complete.

As I pondered the madness that had become my daily routine, a thought crossed my mind. Why do we work ourselves to the bone, day and night, sacrificing our well-being for the illusion of success? 

While outsiders may perceive my work as glamorous, only us "ITians" truly understand the glamorous chaos that lies beneath the surface.

In the eerie depths of the night, as the clock shamelessly struck the hour of 1 am, I found myself standing on the balcony, observing the bustling city as it fell into a hushed stillness on Friday. Even the party hard people must have succumbed to a deep slumber. The highways continued to showcase a few buses and cars. 

Suddenly, the piercing wail of the ambulance siren reached my ears, slicing through the air. My mind warned me that if I continued on this path, I would likely meet my graveyard, succumbing to a heart attack at the ripe age of 36.

In the midst of my own self-reflection, I happened to observe a woman making her way to work. She was a house cleaning lady, starting her work at the crack of dawn, there were countless individuals like her, toiling away silently and tirelessly to support their families. It served as a humbling reminder that I was blessed with an extraordinary amount of privilege.

The sound of the team's meeting ringtone blared through my laptop speakers and I logged into yet another meeting. 

Yes, Life has its way of shaking us out of our comfort zones and balancing work and personal life is a constant struggle, but amidst the pain and laughter, we discover our own strength and resilience. 

From Cuddles to Crayons

My dear Son,

As you set foot into school on your first day, a whirlwind of emotions floods my heart. Considering NEP's mandatory requirement for children to be at least four years old, your dad and I have engaged in numerous discussions and decided to enroll you in Nursery instead of LKG. We believe that this choice will provide you with a strong foundation and it holds good for your long-term growth. 

Growing up Fast

We selected a preschool intentionally veering away from mainstream options. The driving force behind this decision was to create an environment where you wouldn't have to wake up at 7 am, endure a one-hour commute through the traffic of Bangalore, and return home feeling exhausted. This phase of your life is meant to be cherished and my dear son, we aim to preserve your childhood innocence while embracing the promising opportunities that await you.

Balancing Friendship, Academics, and the Pursuit of Happiness

As you step into the world of Nursery, as a parent, I choose not to burden you with expectations and want to break the mold and be unique in my approach. However, I couldn't resist the temptation to give you a friendly suggestion.

 

M lil one at School

While I want you to enjoy your time with friends, excel in academics, and participate in extra-curricular activities, there is one important lesson I want you to remember: Never get carried away with the rat race of life.

Surround yourself with kind, supportive, and genuine friends who bring out the best in you. Cherish these friendships and make an effort to be a good friend in return. 

Education is important, and I want you to embrace the opportunities that come with it. Study diligently, engage with your teachers, and explore subjects or activities that ignite your curiosity. Do not study solely for the sake of marks or competition, but do it to expand your knowledge. Education is a lifelong journey, so foster a love for learning that extends beyond the classroom.

Participating in sports and extracurricular activities is an integral part of your school experience and just like mom, you should participate in them. Engage in activities that interest you and bring you joy. Whether it's sports, music, art, or any other pursuit, give it all. Participating in these activities will not only help you develop skills but also teach you important values such as teamwork, discipline, and perseverance.

Remember the Bigger Picture:

While it's important to strive for success, remember that life is not a never-ending race. Do not measure your worth solely by grades, trophies, or external achievements. Take time to pause, reflect, and enjoy the journey. Find balance in your life, make time for hobbies, and cultivate meaningful relationships. Focus on personal growth, emotional well-being, and the pursuit of happiness.

Today marks the beginning of a beautiful journey and as your parent, we will be there to support you, guide you, and celebrate every step of your unique journey. 

Love you My Son. 

The Dilemma of Metro Culture

In today's hyper-caffeinated world, trends change in the blink of an eye and it's not surprising to find ourselves caught up in those culture. One such trend- where parents book a party hall adorned with a specific theme decoration, colorful balloons, wear party hats, exchange return gifts, and indulge in a feast fit for a king. Yes, I am going to pen about the birthday party celebrations that we arrange for our children, primarily in metro cities.

This week, I find myself attending third consecutive birthday party, pondering the implications of this growing trend. One was organized by a close relative, another by our neighbors next door, and the third by my dear friend. Hence, I could decline any of these invitations. After all, avoiding such gatherings goes against the so called rule of social etiquette and risks of isolating ourselves from community. Yet, I question whether this metro culture is truly beneficial for my child and my family values.

As a parent, I've always had a different vision for my child's birthday celebrations – simplicity, quality time with family and a understanding to the deeper meaning of the life. I envisioned taking him to the temple, attending school if it fell on that day, and visiting an orphanage or a senior citizen home to have a sense of empathy and gratitude. However, as the pressure to conform societal expectations mounts, it feels like the essence of these ideas is slipping away.

Now, I find myself at a crossroads. I can no longer avoid hosting extravagant birthday parties for my son. A close friend of mine said that it has become a mandatory ritual, every month, that she is expected to set aside a portion of her income, specifically for these lavish celebrations, all for the sake of a few hours of joy and merriment. It's ironic to think that we used to criticize our parents for extravagant weddings, and now, unintentionally, we find ourselves doing the same.

Where does this cycle end? How can I strike a balance between adhering to societal expectations and staying true to my own values as a parent? These questions weigh heavily on my mind.

Perhaps, it's time for a paradigm shift. Instead of succumbing to the pressure of lavish parties, we can focus on creating meaningful experiences. We can teach our children about the value of money, the importance of giving back to society, and the joy of simple pleasures. By prioritizing these aspects, we can demonstrate that birthdays are not solely about extravagant celebrations, but rather about love, growth, and shared experiences.

Will I be successful in imparting these values that truly matter to my son? Can I convince him that a party is not about receiving gifts, but about planting a tree on his birthday, buying a book to expand his knowledge, or donating his clothes to those in need? Will he come to understand the joy and fulfillment that comes from giving and making a difference in someone else's life?Will my son grow up to value the lessons I strive to teach him, and will he appreciate the choices I make as a parent?

But yeah, It won't be an easy path, but as parent, it is my responsibility to guide my child towards a balanced understanding of life. By striking a balance between the modern metro culture and our own values, we can provide our children with a solid foundation that will empower them to make conscious decisions in the future.

My dear parents, let's embark in redefining the meaning of birthdays, and fostering an environment where simplicity, love, and personal growth take center stage once again.