I Am a Mum and I Am Superstitious

A thought of my baby makes words like hope, faith and ‘bundle of joy’ take tangible meaning, they come to life with splashes of colours and morsels of flavours. Like the colours of Holi that brighten us up and set us up for a whole year of happy surprises; like the unbounded feeling of joy, of a little child, on receiving the gift from Santa; like the tinkling sound of the temple bells; like the delicious viand that fills up the senses, not just the stomach; like the blend of aroma in a cosy spa that sets up a pleasant mood. All these feelings, all at once, they visit the mind every time I think of my child. Seeing her little feet walk, even now makes my heart skip a beat and sends my mind floating in a pool of elation, she is eight now, still innocent, still demure. How could just the known suffice to nurture such a phenomenal being, who resides in a cosy cave in my heart and touches every string of it, one by one with her nonchalance and simplicity every day? No way! The known is not enough, I want to be the jealous, superstitious Mum, the Mum who wants the universe to know that her little one is the angel of her heart and no one must mistake her for anything else, even the casual passing spirit in the air if there is, even remotely, such a thing possible.

There are times when we encounter the unknown, tell me if I got it wrong? That little creak under the kitchen sink late in the night when everyone’s sleeping, the eerie feeling of a presence that cannot be described, the wraiths in the darkness, the strange sounds from the terrace, that moment when you unknowingly turned to find you were just a whisker away from harm, had you not turned that moment. I am sure they can all be explained and a cynic will do just that! And why not, do it by all means, perspicuity is a virtue!

But if there is life, if there is life on earth at all, there is an unknown that is driving it for sure. Look at the magnificence, look at the diversity, look at the ubiquity- under the sea, over the hills, inside the volcano’s mouth and in the barren desert, life exists everywhere. An unknown which can be worshipped, no matter how hard we try to prove the phenomenon, we still feel like bowing our heads to it and worshipping it with the ‘sincerely yours and ‘yours truly’ fervour! Because life is not about knowledge, it is about faith. Everybody wants ‘kismet’ but no one wants to believe in the divine, not on the records for sure. Divinity is a private belief, and so is superstition, like unmistakable colonies of worms under rotting leaves on the surface of a rain forest, it is everywhere and never completely accepted as that.

I am a mixture of conventional and non-conventional. I still leave a little flour on the tava after all rotis are made. In olden days, the last roti was given to the dog! But since people became urban and dogs began eating Pedigree, there is very little hope of finding a qualifying dog, to have this humble repast. So the last roti is now diminished in size and is even, very often, replaced by a small drizzle of flour over the tava, just for the drizzler’s satisfaction!

I panic over which the direction of the headboard of beds in my house, East-West-North-South, we are all affected by the magnetic field of the earth I rationalise.

I am still a partial believer of not washing hair on Thursdays, but very often I don’t even bother and I wash everything up on a Thursday, hair, clothes, floors and the terrace, still there are days when I refuse to start the washing machine on Thursday and instruct my house help to do it only the next day. I have no idea which way I lean. I lean every which way.

And in complete contrast I am not a regular temple goer, in fact such an occasion presents itself few and far between, I do not even pray to God everyday with incense sticks and diyas, I just pray to God all the time mostly staying away from rituals.

I celebrate festivals by choice, I am not driven by traditions, I choose which traditions to drive. See like an obedient split personality, I leave no hope for an observer to judge me by my actions!

There is marked incongruence in my behaviour when it comes to believing and / or rationalising. And as I discuss this with my friends, it’s becoming exceedingly clear that each of us have such quirks to share. I reserve a few of these quirks just for my little one I lovingly call Chiku and Chipmunk and Chhotu pie and Putush and many more.

I whispered positive thoughts in my infant’s ears every single day, after she was born. Just saying nice things to her. Yes, she did not understand, but that did not deter me. Every morning without fail I whispered in her ears a little something that was truly phenomenal and positive. This is passed on to me by my Mother-in-law. But the moment she said it, I knew this was simply the most valuable suggestion she has ever shared with me and she ever will. She keeps bettering herself, but this piece still remains my top favourite.

I put the kala teeka just like every other mother. The black dot for her safety. After the much painstaking readying and making her dress like a princess, one big visible black dot on left of her forehead. It did not leave her till very long, maybe till she turned four. And that dot, quoting the most well-informed superstitious, made her immune to any negative energy around her! I am sure no one knows if it works, but I never did away with it, not for any logic, not for any science, philosophy or ontology.

This one I do every-day. I open my eyes in the morning and the first thing I must see, is my little one. I just have to do it. She is my lucky charm and at that moment over her sleeping figure, I say little prayers to God I know will be held in trust by the universe and disseminated in small bits over her lifetime. For she will be there much after my breath lasts, but my prayers would have overtaken her wherever she turns.

Being a mother makes me logical and superstitious, loving and firm, happy and worried, calm and cautious all at once. Like spandex I am pulled from opposing direction just so I can maintain my shape and not flop under my own weight. And I enjoy being a mother just that way!