My mother-my daughter-my mother
By Teena Singh
THOSE eyes look at me forever. They express nothing. They haven’t shed a tear in years. But they look at me all the time. There is so much peace, quiet and tranquillity in them. They are the eyes of a peaceful new bom. They are the eyes of my mother caught up with Alzheimer’s.

Papa’s pet but mama’s job
By Priyanka Singh
IT is not uncommon for a first-time mother to ask her husband if he is comfortable with the idea of changing diapers. A couple of years ago this was unheard of. This was a role not cut out for him and any indication in this regard was a direct affront to his masculinity.

• WOMAN SPEAK

My mother-my daughter-my mother
By Teena Singh

THOSE eyes look at me forever. They express nothing. They haven’t shed a tear in years. But they look at me all the time. There is so much peace, quiet and tranquillity in them. They are the eyes of a peaceful new bom. They are the eyes of my mother caught up with Alzheimer’s. Her brain is steadily shrinking and taking her back to being a child. She again tried to set right some imaginary disorder in my room. In the depths of the little unshrunk brain that she is left with — she still wants to help me — but lost her balance and fell, hitting her head against a corner. Blood, her blood, my blood, our blood oozing all over the floor. She quietly telling me, "Oh! I have again got hurt !" After the shrieking, yelling, scolding, rushing to doctor — seven stitches and a bandage— she is just sleeping quietly..

Suddenly that feeling of helplessness as I try to to cope with changing equations, that feeling of guilt at shouting, that complex emotion of not being able to handle my need for a mother and her need for a mother over took me and I sat looking at the white wall and wept. Two soft arms held me tight. I clung to her. All my insecurities, my fears making me cling to her. Softly she looked deep into my eyes and said, "No, don’t cry, Naani is a baby now. I am there for you. I am now a big girl, when you feel scared come to me baby. Now I am your Ma". Suddenly my 17-year-old had reversed the order.

With time, I have accepted, calmed, reconciled to my mother being my child now. In a old body lives my little girl whom I help and teach to walk, bathe, wash, eat, speak and cuddle to sleep. She even forgets my name mostly but I know when she needs me, no matter what the name. In glimpses of care — when she offers me a bite of what she eats or when she tries to cover me with her sheet when I lie down next to her or when she stops moaning when I sleep with her — I feel my mom. For the rest, my word is obeyed by her like a daughter. She has been a perfect mother. She taught me all my values, my priorities, my basics, my very existence. Very slowly the roles have reversed and I look after her like my baby. The daughter whom I taught and brought up with all that my mother gave to me is now my dearest child who looks up to me for all answers and then when I am forlorn comes to me with the same answers and becomes like a mother to me. In the beautiful connection that binds us three together, a mother lives forever.

I have learnt that an adult and a child live within each one of us forever. Our needs too are that of a child and an adult. If all of us open our minds, honestly to the duo within us, to the constant need of give and take at different levels of our psyche, we shall be more secure, satisfied and complete. It also makes us all what we really are, just ordinary human beings with no set roles, no pedestals, no one-way flows, no one-way expectations, no set rules, no set stages or pockets of life. We are forever young, forever old, forever bonding. The old should recognise the child within themselves when dealing with youngsters and the young would do well to bond with the child entrapped in older bodies. The constantly changing equations shall only make each one of us understand and communicate better with each other.

I speak with the conviction of a ordinary woman who has been through the pain, the happiness, the wrench and the succour, the expectancy and the expectations, the tears and the smiles that come with being and finding a child in my relationship with my own daughter and mother.

Papa’s pet but mama’s job
By Priyanka Singh

IT is not uncommon for a first-time mother to ask her husband if he is comfortable with the idea of changing diapers. A couple of years ago this was unheard of. This was a role not cut out for him and any indication in this regard was a direct affront to his masculinity.

It is not to say that the fathers of yesteryear could not have been bothered by such trifles, it is just that most of them were not so involved in the upbringing of their children.The social functions of a man and a woman were more pronounced and a father was supposed to enforce discipline while a mother was allowed to pet and spoil the kids rotten.The father came in much later when important decisions had to be taken with regard to their future.

There, however, appears to be a slight shift as the man of today is willing to do his bit—not out of coercion or a sense of duty but because he wants to do it for his bundle of joy.

Ms Seema Chaudhary, a school teacher and mother of an year-old baby, says, "My husband took leave when I was not in a position to attend to the baby after delivery. Later, when I availed my maternity leave and had to join school soon after, my husband would bathe the baby, massage him and dress him up. He would then drop him at a nearby creche before leaving for work. In the evenings, he would only be too eager to take the baby out in a pram. He was extremely helpful, to say the least."

Ms Kulwant Vashisht, also a teacher, says,’’ Being a working woman, it would have been difficult to look after my seven-month-old daughter, but for my husband’s cooperation. Whenever I am tired and she wakes up in the middle of the night , he puts her to sleep and makes sure she is dry. When I am hard-pressed for time, he even washes the soiled clothes for me.

Has the Indian man changed so radically? It sounds too good to be true . Ms Gopal neena , a bank officer’s experience tells us otherwise. "My husband , I feel, represents that cross-section of men—which I hope is minuscule— who love to mollycoddle babies but are convinced that women are conditioned to handle babies in a way not possible for a man", says Neena. Perhaps it is true as a woman is intrinsically patient and sacrificing. It is a joyous and an immensely satisfying experience for a mother to be doing things for her children.But a little help wouldn’t hurt , more so if a woman is employed.

"As I had been losing sleep ,my husband decided he would lend me a hand during the weekend. I looked forward to Friday when I would,for once, sleep well. By the time he got around changing a few nappies (winter nights are terrible as the babies wet frequently ), I could hear him complain,’’I just changed and she is wet again!’’ And later, "Not again ...how do you do it...?"

"At that point I took over. His relief was apparent. Though he adores her, losing his sleep ,I realised, was not quite his cup of tea.’’

A housewife who didn’t want to be identified says, "Even though I had no support at home as my husband and I were staying by ourselves, help was not forthcoming from him. Certainly, he would contribute in his own little way but it was not on a day-to-day basis. In that sense, not being a career woman was actually a blessing in disguise for me.’’

Ms Aarti , a working woman, has a similar story to tell. " My husband likes to play with our six-month-old baby but only when it suits him. He does not like to be inconvenienced because of him. If he is working on something or sleeping and the baby wails, I am expected to take the baby out of the room !’’

Most new fathers had this to say, ‘’I am not experienced’’ or " She can do it better’’ or "Our fathers didn’t do it for us.’’ The picture is not all that much rosy even if there is a marked improvement. There is still a long way to go.

WOMAN SPEAK

Some of us are becoming the men we wanted to marry— Gloria Steinem

Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other. Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then— Katherine Hepburn

Nagging is the repetition of unpalatable truths— Baroness Edith Summerskill

If men can run the world, why can't they stop wearing neckties? How intelligent is it to start the day by tying a little noose around your neck?— Linda Ellerbee

I am a marvellous housekeeper. Every time I leave a man, I keep his house

—Zsa Zsa Gabor