My Daughters’ Mum, by Natasha Badhwar

I had started this blog somewhere in 2015, and in the early days I was easing into this strange sensation of hearing myself verbalize some things which I wasn’t aware I had been thinking. It seemed a little self-indulgent. And a little scary to ‘put it out there’. It also seemed odd sometimes that I would write down for anyone who would care to read, stuff which I am unlikely to mention in person.

It was in these early days that I stumbled upon Natasha Badhwar’s articles on Mint Lounge. And my reaction to that can only be described as ‘Yes’. Yes, this is the kind of writing I want to read..this is also the kind of writing I want to write. Yes, there is something on the internet which is not ‘Did you know..’, ‘10 things which..’, political propaganda, blind rage.. Yes, I want to read more of this. Yes, I can continue to write as I have been writing. Yes, I will follow the writer on facebook, though I don’t typically do that.

The reason I had started my blog was that somewhere I was worrying that the day-to-day moments, reflections, the beautiful mundane, were slipping by unacknowledged. I wanted to capture them, and to celebrate them. And here was Natasha Badhwar, doing that with élan. Her column inspired me by saying to me, “You are not alone.” You are not crazy for wanting to put the ordinary on the mantel, and examine the mundane through the looking glass.

So when I heard that she was publishing a book of her essays, I had to get it. As I was reading, I kept sending snippets from the book to my sister over whatsapp, and I was in equal measure surprised and impressed when my busy-as-hell, new-mom-with-2^nd-baby, sleep-deprived sister informed me in couple of days that she has ordered and received her own copy.

The book, My Daughters’ Mum, is essentially a collection of essays- many of them from the column itself. But you also get something more- there are of course pieces which delve more deeply into personal territory, but to me what emerged as greater than the sum of the parts was the image of the writer herself. I felt that compared with the Mint column, I could see more clearly the physical and emotional landscape of the author, the journey she has clearly made over time, her struggles and the perfections as well as imperfections in relationships/ environment/ her own self, much more visible. But this is her strength- she is fully aware that this is all a part of the shared human experience, and she accepts it as such. Where she may not have yet accepted, I think she intends to.

She writes about moments from her day-to-day.. her children, their emotions, her own emotions, her relationships, her reflections. And in painting a very personal portrait, she manages to paint a much larger human canvas. She knows that. She stands before experiences which are common to so many of us, and gently puts a mirror before them. She pauses and looks at what’s really going on. And she accepts the answer, without feeling the need to change it or shy away from it. She meets a feeling and asks like a friend: Where are you coming from?

And her candour continues to remind us, “You are not alone.” You are not alone in noticing that there are discussions needed when you have more than one religion in a household. You are not alone in finding money and spending to be an exasperating topic of discussion with your spouse. You are not alone in being, or witnessing someone else being, in a bad mood due to seemingly insignificant things. You are not alone in contemplating in what way to chart your own path. You are not alone to sometimes rue your decisions, and at other times be insanely proud of them.

My sister and I of course found ourselves discussing it over whatsapp. My sis commented on how she would like to have the author’s ability to think while in the middle of everything. I think the author often does that. But I think more often, she forgives herself and everyone else for what happened while in the middle of it. And she reflects, and learns from it for the next time. She gives the situation attention- and that’s where the magic happens.

It is so easy for even magic to become mundane after a point, but attention transforms the mundane into the magical every single time.

By the end of the book, I was left wanting more. I wanted to know even more about the people in the book. I wanted to know what Natasha thinks about the situations I am currently contemplating. I wanted to know what Natasha would say to my sister’s situations and comments. And in that, I think the book is written like a diary, or even more like talking to a friend.