They were, after all, an intrinsic part of me, and after two harrowing deliveries, they remained mentally and physically close to their Mom
Sometimes these days I’m surprised by how quiet it is in the house. With the children and dog at home, which they are on Sundays like today, it should’ve been filled with the clamour of all these years — playing, squabbling, singing, watching something loud on television. But now they are in their mid-teens, they quietly go about their business without always involving Mommy. There was a time when we all had to troop to the bathroom together too, but that was a while ago now! Today, one’s immersed in a whodunit whilst cocooned in her own room, and the other is at his desk in our small library, revising for his big exams ahead, without any nagging from us (never needed for his studies, but endlessly for chores!). Our dog too is growing older and snoozes for long stretches.
Of course, we still have sporadic emotional storms reverberating through our home, occasioned by sibling rows, yet another exciting achievement (long may it continue), or just the dog barking warning volleys in the garden to trespassing critters. But that’s teenagers for you; the agitation can still be seismic but is intermittent compared to when they were younger. Yet, on this Sunday, it’s so quiet I can clearly hear the birds warbling, the wind rushing through the trees, and the ground shifting imperceptibly beneath my feet.
Unusually, I can also hear myself think. But as much as I savour this peace, I know it’s a precursor to a decidedly mixed blessing. Something I’ve begun to dread that I never thought I would.
In less than two years, first, the eldest and then, his younger sister, will be flying the coop, and it makes me both happy for the wonderful futures I hope with all my heart (and everything else I can invest) awaits them, but also infinitely sad that my daily journey of love, nurture and laughter with my children is almost over. It’s inevitable but only another parent, perhaps a mother more than anyone, can tell you how simultaneously improbable and gut-wrenching it seems. They were, after all, an intrinsic part of me, and after two harrowing deliveries, they remained mentally and physically close to their Mom. It’s no wonder then that the old adage about children feeling like essential parts of yourself walking around outside of you rings true.
Those who don’t know me might hazard a guess, “She hasn’t had the sense to build a life beyond her children and that’s why she’ll miss them so”, but that wouldn’t be true. In the time we’ve raised them, you see, I have written four books, published by the world’s best. I have taught at universities, writing regular media columns and plays as well, to become the first South Asian woman to write international operas, which toured the UK to acclaim. I mention these only to say, I have indeed filled my life with blessings, including a strong marriage. But as most parents will tell you, raising children to be altruistic, intelligent and independent, and then letting them go to be all kinds of wonderful, is a near-impossible height to scale. Yet we all do it because we have to.
My husband and I had discussed what becoming Empty Nesters might feel like long before it was imminent. And though even the term for parents left behind by their beloved, wide-world-embracing children has a gnawing, hollow ring to it, we thought we’d welcome the freedom of our kids going off to university. The chance to snatch some shut-eye, after the many vigilant nights of staying up with at least one kid who struggled to sleep. The freedom to catch our breath after the years of bringing up two spirited offspring very close to each other in age, without the safety net of nearby family (mine on another continent, whist his, still counties away) or household help. With a home to run as well as our careers, though the latter was often placed on the backburner, downtime for ourselves had been parked for the preordained Empty Nesting era.
Yet now that it’s nearly upon us, I’m actually glad life continues to be as frenetic as ever, the occasional quiet Sunday notwithstanding. With the older one at the A levels/Higher Secondary stage in school, all the activity, chatter, visits, and more, are about gaining admission to the best university and the exhilarating opportunities beyond it. The younger one will be sitting her first big board exams and getting into the Higher Secondary college of her choice around the same time. So, they’re both at that crucial career-building stage of their lives, and we, their parents, have naturally become their social secretaries and career managers! Allowing few fallow hours to dwell on much else — certainly not the melancholy of what will be. I’ll have plenty of time to actually live it.
Till then, I plan to savour every last second with my growing children while they can still be called kids, though my parents assure me that in my eyes they will always be my babies. But it won’t be as easy to drop a kiss on their heads as they study, or chatter happily around the dinner table nightly, or even just listen to them breathing in their bedrooms as I fall to sleep. It is all to do NOW.
