Beyond Fifty

 This year I turn fifty in October. Sixteenth October to be precise. Needless to say getting to half a century is a big milestone in anyone's life. Most approach it with a mix of trepidation and doom. Trepidation of the things to come or lack of and doom of declining physical and mental faculties. The sage of the world approach fifty as a powerhouse of wisdom and a license to wag their fingers and shake their heads at numerically lesser aged mortals pointing out the folly of their ways. And then they are those who go into panic mode; the famously atoned ‘midlife crisis’. They throw their family life and everything they have slowly and steadily built to the wind and abandon themselves to revisiting the follies of youth. 

Being a classic sun sign Libra, I weighed the pros and cons of letting myself feel one way or another as I foray gradually towards my fiftieth birthday. After all I have the time-luxury of ten months and fifteen days to make that decision and I want to get it right. So I thought hard, sometimes for days on end and truly tried to visualize my life beyond fifty. Should I approach my fiftieth with trepidation and doom of diminishing faculties? Should I expend my energies and focus more on my physically and mental health?  I pictured myself taking up yoga, doing meditation, eating greens and becoming a total zen person with a constantly lingering smile. Hmm. Very tempting. And to be honest a very sensible approach to fifty and beyond but kind of cliche and boring. Where was the fun? Where was the spark? And I also knew I wouldn't be able to stick with it for long, because I never do. I am not a sticker to sensible things and despite my best intentions, I come undone sooner or later. So that option flew out the window. 

Next I contemplated if I should wear the know-it-all hat and go around spilling my wisdom beans hoping someone will sow one and reap the benefits and miraculously start thinking of me as their guru. Their go-to wise woman? I pictured myself as a kind of a un-licensed and un-solicited therapist, and I quite liked the idea! Because I am a very good listener, and not only that I actually really listen when people talk. And by that I mean I can detect the undercurrents of their conversations, things they are trying to justify, things they are trying to forget, things they feel annoyed about. I have always been able to cut through the talk and see what a person is all about at that moment in time. Call it a gift, but I have what it takes to be a wise-woman. But did I want to be one? Did I want to spend the rest of my life telling people what to do? Weren't my children sick of me doing that already with them? Suddenly being a sage wasn't so sexy - and I abandoned the idea. 

The other option available to me is to have a mid-life crisis. And I thought about what direction should my midlife crisis take me. Partying, convertibles, dressing young and acting wild? To be honest I was out of my depth here. My brain refused to go along with me on this one and truly I wouldn't know where to start. I was a never a wild child. I didn't even dress young when I was young or party hard and I find convertibles too damn uncomfortable to ride in, with every hump and bump magnified ten fold.  So definitely I wouldn't know how to have a midlife crisis even if I wanted one!

That leaves me nowhere. But I am not overly worried. It will come to me. We are still into the month of May and I still have five more months to figure out what becomes of me after 50!

Saman Khanzada Mirza

Sweet Sixteen, Anica!

My youngest turns sixteen today. 

Old enough to fill my heart with a slight pang that the day is fast approaching when she too will be looking at University brochures ready to fly the nest like her older siblings and I will have to deal with an empty nest syndrome, but still young enough to enjoy her delightful company; because a delight she definitely is. And I am not saying this with a mother’s bias because I have never been an overly gushy kinda mom. As much as I adore my children, I view them objectively as individuals; ie beautifully written but still having typos in their character-script!

And what delights me about my youngest is her genuine warmth which she exudes wherever she goes. She is the kind of person who in a room full of strangers will come out bearing many friends. She is instinctively sensitive to the needs and wants of others and shows care in little unexpected ways that touches your heart. She is the one who leaves handwritten notes and bunch of flowers on the side table on Mothers or Fathers Day while my other, older two blissfully forget. She is one who comfort feeds you by baking you muffins and cookies with a cup of tea. She is the one who squeezes your hand and gives hugs for no reason. Her mindfulness and emotional intelligence always strikes me as way mature and beyond her sixteen years. My youngest certainly has a generous caring soul, but knows how to be sweet and silly and fun and sociable. And just as you nuzzle and settle into her fuzzy warmth of a character, you are jolted by her steely determination, her unwavering vision, because what she wants and sets her eyes on; you can count on it - she gets.

Bravo. Now that's my girl; who has the strength of character and intelligence (emotional, social and intellectual) to make things happen for her and for others around her. I have no doubt that she will sail through life, making many friends, championing many causes and staying true to her blessed warm heart. 

Here’s to you my darling, always stay you! Happy Birthday!

Changing Stories

There comes times in every women’s life; through charmed providence or cruel necessity; when she feels inclined either to start a new story in her life or end an existing one. This beginning and ending of stories,  however holds very little significance for men, because their entire lives, more or less, are played out in the same story with changing chapters causing ripples in their otherwise calm sea of existence. Most men set their course of life early on for their entire journey and even if they suffer tiny upheavals, it's nothing that cannot be addressed or ironed out in the next couple of chapters unfolding in their life stories.

But why so many stories in a women's life? Because the emotional demands made on her are deeper and she herself changes with every major or minor change in her life. Every time she is in a relationship or gets married, or gives birth or gets divorced or cares for her aging parents, she switches into a new role and has to cultivate new sensibilities to carry on; as a lover, a wife, a mother or a caregiver.  Not always by choice, she is constantly thrust into circumstances where she feels the need to end something or start anew. As an example when her kids leave the family home, or her husband spends longer and longer time away from home or simply stops caring, or her parents become elderly and eventually die, that's the cue for her to end that story.  She has to dust and pick herself up for a new beginning elsewhere. Her equation in life is never constant and it all takes its toll on her. That's why women age so much quicker than men. 

But there also comes a time when she wants to break free from all the stories thrust on her and write her own story that makes her happy. She wants to break the shackles of being for others and just be. She has cared enough, done enough, she is through with her own sense of duty to others and their causes. And the irony is she truly finds her place in other peoples stories when she gets to this pinnacle of freedom. Some women find this freedom quicker than others but alas, some never do. 

Saman Khanzada Mirza