Saturday, April 2, 2016


I grew up in a close-knit family of 4 sisters and 3 other girls cousins and needless to say, we had a ball growing up together. So, I’d always dreamt of having a daughter and when I was pregnant, I was pretty sure it was a little girl in the bump. So, during the 5th month scan, when the technician asked me if I wanted to know the sex of the baby, I nodded vigorously. And when she told me it was a boy, I remember vaguely asking if she was sure. She gave me a weird look and pointed to something on the screen and said yes, she was absolutely sure. I walked out of there half in disbelief and half in shock. You see, in my head, I was pretty sure I was going to have a girl.

I came back home and told mom in tears. And she said something very wise. She said, it’s very easy to bring up a girl (she’d brought up 4!) but we need tough mothers to raise sons who’ll grow up to be good men and that there is a dire need for good men in this world. And then I told mom and myself that I’d do my best to be that mother. Since then, my journey hasn’t been easy.

I’ve always wanted my son to be a good and kind-hearted person more than anything else. I want him to respect the other person irrespective of the person’s sex. As of now it doesn’t really matter as in his books, everyone is categorized into gooboy(good boy) or nauttyboy (naughty boy). I’ve tried to buy gender-neutral toys for him and told him it’s ok to play with dolls as much as with planes. But I’ve begun to believe the hard wiring is something I can’t change, no matter what I do. Pickles has taken a love to trucks and anything construction related and right now, my life is full of backhoe loaders and tipper trucks. He has been giving anyone and everyone who’ll listen, a lesson on the different kinds of trucks and excavators. And when he uses all those words to hilarious effects, its amazingly fun.

I can’t believe I was so silly to think that sons and daughters would be different.  At this point, I can tell you that although they are different, they are the same in the things that matter. And yet, I wont deny that when I get dressed up and little Pickles squeals “pitty pitty amma” (Pretty pretty mom),it makes my heart do somersaults in a way like nothing else could. 

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