Motherhood: Where Your Biggest Critics Live at Home

Do you know the easiest way to lose your confidence? Make a child. He will ensure you are body-shamed every living second of your life.

"Wow, Mama! Nice round tummy! Jiggly hands also!"

Next, he meets his grandmother after three days, knowing fully well that she's been away for a wedding and has indulged in a little good food.

"Egg, you look like a plum pudding now. What have you been eating?"

We talk about body shaming and how fat is beautiful, but the tiny enemies at home (aka children) waste no time rubbing in the extra flab that may or may not even be visible.

Is he doing this simply because he knows weight is a sensitive topic? Hold up, future daughter-in-law! Give me a couple more years to set him right and educate him about not body-shaming people.

In the meantime, strength-training Gods, I pray to you to make me look like the female version of He-Man.

Monday: 1, Mumma: 0

I had the most unproductive day at work today, and my poor child, who had a rain holiday from school, had to listen to me whining about it all day long. His googly eyes sank deeper and deeper into his face each time he saw a high AI % on the AI detection tool I use.

"It's not your fault, Mumma. It's the tool," he convinced me at the end of the evening. He also gave me plenty of life advice on why I should take a chill pill when it comes to work. Sigh!

I hope I'm not scarring my child's brain with professional trauma. And now I realise why he talks to me like a century-old man without a flowing white beard and with a nice, shiny, hairless head.

Today has officially been the most useless Monday of my life. Was it because I was useless, or was it the tool? I honestly can't say, but I certainly feel pretty useless.

Here's hoping for a better Tuesday.

The Fringe Is Staying. My Eyes Have Other Plans.

I've had a fringe for so long that I've honestly forgotten how long it's been. The first 10–15 years were probably fun. This year, though, it has become painful to maintain because my screen time has substantially increased – on all fronts – and I'm now wearing reading glasses. All that hair falling into my eyes and getting caught against my reading glasses is making them burn.

But I'm too scared to get rid of it because I'll probably look like a cross between a plucked chicken and a very haggard, tired mum of one (that's a true-life horror story right there). So, no on-screen comparisons are required to describe how I'll look.

Also, will I even recognise the person staring back at me from the mirror if I get rid of this two-decade-plus-long extension of my face?

So many unanswered questions, and I'm just not ready to answer them yet.

Oh yes, and adult acne! I have a feeling the fringe is probably contributing to that too. Even then, I'm not ready to part with this bit of my personality.

Tell me, what's one thing about yourself that you're just not ready to part with yet? Drop a comment below and let me know.

Off Carbs, On Sugar and Other Sunday Realities

My Sundays are incomplete without stuffing my face with a solid piece of sugar. Like I always tell one and all, I'm off carbs but very much on sugar, which is the secret behind my potato-self, despite the donkey-load of weight training and cardio that I do.

The whole of Chennai seemed to be inside Phoenix Mall today, especially Punjab Grill and Nasi and Mee. I was craving some Litchi Ki Tehri, but the queue outside Punjab Grill looked worse than a ladies' local train in Bombay. Hard pass!

Next, we tried Ibaco, which looked like every public transport bus in Chennai, with passengers standing haphazardly and rushing to get to places. And the horror of horrors, there was just one server inside the parlour, who was both billing and serving. God bless her soul!

So, the Mini and I decided to settle down at our usual favourite overpriced coffee spot, Starbucks. After pounding down approximately 500 grams of sugar, we were both satisfied.

The Mini kept rubbing my belly today, insisting that it felt like jelly. I was mentally planking in my head already as I single-handedly gobbled down a medium-sized New York cheesecake.

Such a pity that the weekend is coming to a close. Even more pitiful is the fact that I couldn't get my hands on any Litchi Ki Tehri. Luckily, weekends happen every once in five days!

On that note, I'm off to indulge in a quick weekend siesta with some serious sugar dreams.

Good night!

Grief, Old Facebook Memories and the Widow I Never Planned to Be

Grief creeps up on you when you least expect it. Sometimes, on a busy Thursday evening, it comes in the form of an old Facebook memory, and suddenly, you're right back where you started.

I'm once again that angry, shocked, utterly let-down 34-year-old widow who had to grow up overnight and learn to become two people.

My late husband and I decided, together, to bring a baby into this world. And what a joy he is to raise, tantrums and all! But five years later, I'm still disappointed in my career-driven, work-obsessed husband, who chose his laptop over his child. It's a disappointment that death hasn't erased, and perhaps that's something people don't talk about enough. You can grieve someone, miss them and still be angry with them.

I'm glad I'm here. I'm glad I get to raise Riaan, watch him grow and witness the fine young man he's turning out to be. I'm glad I get to be there for the little things, the big things, the tantrums, the laughter and everything in between.

The last five years have been the most brutally chaotic and exhausting years of my life. I've had to figure out motherhood, work, grief and an entirely new version of myself, often all at once. And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Perhaps I'm still learning to balance work and life, but I've learnt this much: life, and the tiny human I brought into this world, will always take precedence over a paycheck. No job, no deadline and no career milestone will ever matter more than being present for the people I love.

And yet, all it took was one old Facebook album, a decade old, to turn me back into that heartbroken 34-year-old who had no idea how she was going to put her life back together.

With this piece written, I'm reminded once again that healing isn't linear. We learn to live with the pain, let it wash over us, and somehow find the strength to carry on. Again and again and again. Until, perhaps, one day, the memories stop hurting quite so much, and we find a little peace.

Perhaps I'm still waiting for that day.

Until then, I have my Riaan, a life that's still very much mine to live, and a body that hasn't gone to heaven yet. 

40, Cheesy and Absolutely Unapologetic: 15 Realisations Before I Turn 40

Here goes another super-cheesy write-up because it's better to be full of cheese than bitter gourd. 

My 15 realisations at 40 (which I will turn on January 31st. Don't forget to wish me! Don't worry, I'll remind you too.)

1. Leather skirts don't last more than a day.

2. Some days, the child is childing and work is working. It's totally normal to overdose on sugar and coffee on those days.

3. Weight training did for me what 30 years of swimming, cycling and walking couldn't.

4. The best rooms are the ones filled with people who understand your silences as much as your chatter.

5. Not everyone will like you. Accept rejection with grace and move on.

6. Some days, your trauma has trauma. On those days, it's perfectly alright to stand in front of your cupboard and cry for no reason.

7. One or two girlfriends who understand your brain inside out are better than an entire army of friends.

8. You are your child's safe space, and they're going to start crying and screaming the moment they see you. Hug them for as long as the hugging works.

9. Coloured hair leads to more white hair.

10. Tattoos aren't just good for the soul; they make you look hot, too.

11. No one's life is perfect. One person's sadness is another person's joy, and vice versa.

12. Cherish your family every day because they're forced to put up with you every single day, no matter how crappy your mood is.

13. Accept your mood swings by simply allowing your body to go through the motions.

14. Eat less, move more.

15. Work smart, not like a donkey.

I'm not adding another 25 to this list because this is it! I'm not following a viral trend. This is just me being me, as always.

Children, the Original Agents of Chaos

You don't truly understand the meaning of the words "busy", "being pulled in all directions" and "scattered" until you try juggling a child and your daily routine, whatever that may be.

This morning, my son announced that he had to wear a vest under his uniform, and it slipped out of my mouth instantly: "You don't need a vest, you're flat as a chip." I chuckled the moment I said it because I was immediately transported back to 2015, to my ex-boss's living room, where she'd invited the whole team over for biryani and drinks. Her little boy kept going from one woman to the next in the room, whispering, "XYZ is flat as a chip." Now, I don't want to mention XYZ here and make her feel sad. What if she's reading this?

Children and their bizarre observations! It's an all-round struggle trying to turn them into civilised human beings. Throw in the demands of a job, the upkeep of a house and a partner, perhaps, and your plate is overflowing.

My little champion, for example, decided to rush to the bathroom right in the middle of breakfast preparation. So, there was a whole lot of running back and forth between the kitchen and the bathroom for me this morning.

Ah, children! The creators of white hair and broken bones.

The Year of the Septum Ring and Other Unfortunate Decisions

2026 — the year I tried my hand at a WHOLE bunch of things, including a fake septum piercing inspired by Chandra from "Lokah". And let me tell you, it failed spectacularly because every time I bent down to eat, the damn ring would fall inside my food. And that was that. Oh, and it was itchy.

In the battle between looking like a sexy wannabe vampire and eating food, I obviously chose food. Priorities, people. Priorities.

Other than my fashion bloopers, I also flung my heart wide open to the whole world, on all fronts. And apparently, I'm a bundle of joy. What a joy to know that! But let me reassure you, at this point, there is no joy. There is only a bundle. Two, in fact — my child and me.

2026 has been a year of greater acceptance and more overwork than any other year I've known. And now, my bones are officially broken. I'm not even kidding. I wake up like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame most mornings. Doesn't help that my child thinks I'm Vikram to his Betaal, because all he wants to do is jump on me from every possible angle — off the bed, midway through climbing a doorframe, from below the waist... the permutations and combinations are endless.

At this point, I've decided to be a small potato for the rest of the year and simply vegetate through these endless months of pouring rain. No adventures, no experiments, no pretending to be a vampire. Just me, my food, and a whole lot of doing absolutely nothing.

Tell me, how has 2026 been for you? What were your happiest and saddest moments? The highs, the lows, the unexpected plot twists — tell me everything in the comments below. 

My Face Has Officially Joined The Conjuring Universe

I absolutely hate, loathe and despise the monsoons in Chennai. Some days, I can barely walk, I have to abandon swimming completely, and my entire face starts attacking me from the inside with its never-ending flow of mucus. It's a complete nightmare! Worse than a scene from "The Conjuring" series.

My face becomes my very own Valak, scaring the bejesus out of me.

Take this morning, for example. I worked for an hour and then spent the next two holding my head because it felt like there was a gigantic, mouldy rock lodged inside my skull. All thanks to the never-ending flow of mucus, resembling lava bubbling away inside an ancient mountain. There were stars dancing around my eyes, too, and I couldn't figure out what was happening. Had my BP shot up? Was I hungry? Did I need to get my eyes checked again?

Ugh! Disgusting! The weather and the insides of my face. Both deserve to be reported to the authorities.

I'd like this weather to officially resign from planet Earth. Alternatively, I might have to resign my sanity. At this point, both options seem equally reasonable.

I've never drunk so much hot water in my entire life, and steam inhalations don't seem to be doing a thing. I'm avoiding tablets at all costs, and ooh, suddenly I'm wondering whether I should drink more lime juice. Would that help, I wonder?

Or perhaps I should just find a priest, a very powerful exorcist and a one-way ticket out of Chennai until the monsoons decide to get their act together.

All That Exercise for All That Eating

Honestly, considering the amount of food I eat, it's no wonder my personal trainer quit on me. One intense hour of weight training later (in fact, right in the middle of the workout), I'm dreaming of ghee-doused pongal topped with big, fat cashew nuts. Ooh, pongal, my dear old friend, whom I haven't eaten in countless months!

No. Instead, I did breath-stopping floor exercises this morning and then ran to the café inside my colony and stuffed my face with toasted carbs, buttery carbs and a laughable amount of protein.

Yes, I can never stop working out for the rest of my life. This is confirmed. I probably have an eating disorder as well — this is also confirmed, because I go through phases of starvation followed by mountains of food. So much food that it would put a sumo wrestler to shame.

It's a struggle all around: my love of food on one side and the heart-attack-inducing floor and strength-training workouts on the other.

I'll probably go for an evening walk today and hopefully not stumble into the Sri Krishna Sweets inside my colony to wash down all that exercise with some more food. Can't make any promises, though!