Thank you!

Oh mothers,

I write this letter to you, thanking you in advance for the beautiful men you will be nurturing and growing. I am so proud of the fact that you will be teaching them to be kind and gentle, respectful and loving, strong and supportive. I brim with pride when I know that the boys are in good hands and you have helped them understand what “NO” means - for trivial nothings and for the non-trivial bigger non-nothings. I see that each of your boys is seeing at home an example from his father on how a woman should be treated - He sees his father as a  friend to his mother who is an equal partner - right from helping out at home, to taking care of each other. I know that you know that this is important as he is not going to learn this anywhere else. You have also made them realize that they have an immense responsibility to walk hand in hand with the other sex.

I am so proud of the fact that when these boys grow up to be those wonderful human beings and they look back at the stories of horror on the opposite sex, it leaves them in utter dismay, but they heave a Sigh of relief with the thought - “Not on my watch, not now, not ever”

The wrinkles

Unlike the wrinkles on a shirt that get pressed on, with no stories to share, the wrinkles on a face mean so much more. They highlight the years of laughter, the moments of tears, the days of toil and more importantly the beauty of time. They are like journey lines, each telling a different story. The ones around the eyes speak about the heartfelt smiles that made their way from the lips to the eyes, the furrows near the brow retain those un-worded disapprovals , those on the forehead, the unabashed exclamations, the creases near the mouth roar with the sound of laughter, and those under the chin scream of the unshed tears that you pursed your way through. 

Do we have to smoothen these and erase a part of the past? Do we have to make them disappear? Ageing is inevitable but ageing elegantly and beautifully is something we should still hold on to, no?