UK and Europe are having a major frost spell. Trains here are affected, and there are only 3 trains an hour or so. It goes without saying that each train is super crowded. When I board them, I feel like I am teleported to one of the local trains in Mumbai!

Happy new year everyone! I finally am in the right state of mind to write something. Last week was mad with friends, partying, cooking, eating, drinking and getting over hangovers!

'Do you know how big a curse it is for a parent to let their child go away?', he asked. He was speaking about his daughter who had gone to Southampton for studies. Parents and the daughter, unable to bear the separation spoke on the internet for at least 3 hours a day, everyday, he said.

'She feels lonely and homesick. She has made no friends, She is scared to call you. Will you be an angel and call her, be a friend, somebody to talk to apart from us?', he asked. Scared? We don't even know each other! Only when he spoke I came to know this relation existed - she was my mother's maternal uncle's wife's paternal uncle's daughter. She was somewhere in the UK, homesick and lonely, and vaguely related to me - so I was expected to baby-sit her although she was around my age.

'How on earth could she make friends if you hogged up 3 hours everyday?', I thought. And why exactly should I care? If they had expected me to pick her up from the airport or search an accommodation for her or guide her on certain things or even let her stay at my place for a few days, I can understand. I would have done that. What do you expect me to do when you say 'be a friend'? If she did want a 'friend', shouldn't she initiate communication, email or call me saying 'Hi, I have heard about you from a common aunt. I am ... This is my phone number. I had a few things to ask you. Could you please help me out?'? Oh wait, I forgot, she is scared.

Did I call her? Yes. I am cynical, but not cold-hearted. I risked being a total idiot, she didn't pick up, so I left a voice mail saying 'Hey I am so and so, I spoke to your father last night and he wanted me to call you to see if you are doing OK and also to get to know you. So you can always call me back on this number when you are free, if you are not scared that is.'

That call was never returned. Did I scare her more?

'Do you know how big a curse it is for a child when their parents don't let them go?', I thought. It makes them incapable of standing on their own legs, lack confidence, weak, unable to defend themselves against a cruel world, yes it's timid girls like her who are easy victims of the society's ugly offenders.

All over the world, parents let children go, to studies, careers, marriages. To let go what they thought of as the reason of their existence, the axis around which their lives revolved, their identity, definitely must not be easy. Yet, they don't call it a curse. They do it with a smile, a suppressed tear. When those children become parents, they too let go of their children when the time comes. And I honestly don't think these parents love their children any less, if I may say, they only love their children more. It sometimes makes me wonder, what would have been more difficult for them? Going into labour? Altering priorities, lifestyles, careers to fit the little one in? Or preparing in instalments to let the child go for it's own good?

And yet the other kind of parents do exist. The ones who will have their children revolve around them as a returned favour. The child's 'responsibilities' chalked out even before they can spread their wings. Make the child feel guilty of petty happinesses that they had all for themselves. Not letting go of the children for the fear of the child 'getting spoilt', fear of a lonely ageing,  fear of what will everybody say.

Or maybe it is just a lack of trust in their own children...

I am not sending Amma a bouquet again.

This time, I sent her a beautiful bouquet of all sorts of flowers in it, beautifully arranged and kept in a round glass vase. She received it in the night. Super thrilled by it, she took out one flower and kept it near a God's photo. Next morning, the maid servant wears a Saree which is the same colour as one of the flowers. So the maid gets one to wear on her hair. 2-3 small ones are sent to gran so that she can wear it. Another gran staying in the house does a puja, so she adorns other Gods' photos with flowers too and rest of the flowers' petals are plucked out to do what they call a 'pushpa archana' (form of worship). Stems and fillers are duly thrown away. What happened to the cute round vase you ask? It is now used for keeping spoons and forks.

Again, what was I thinking gifting her a bouquet?