Scribblings by Nancy

Ahh… yet another weekend, and here I am with a new reflection. Everyone’s childhood  pretty much shapes the adults we become, I guess most of my dear friends crossing their 30s and 40s would have figured that out by now. I had a pretty amazing childhood. An awesome family, a good school, wonderful friends, and the best place to grow up. But even in all that goodness, there were a few pitfalls, little things that have somehow taken up a large chunk of my adulthood. One of them? Perfectionism. My mom was a staff nurse — smart, capable, and disciplined. She was a perfectionist in every sense of the word. Even the way she draped her saree was perfect,not a pleat out of place. She was loving but strict. We had rules, and I, of course, was the rule-breaker . She pushed us to be perfect. Our studies were top priority, our clothes and manners had to be just right, and even our pocket money was accounted for down to the last paisa. Keeping the house clean wasn’t just important, it was non-n...

Lately, many of my friends have been sharing their struggles with the midlife crisis they’re going through. And honestly? I get it. As we grow older and as technology grows even faster than us, life sometimes feels overwhelmingly complicated. As someone born in the hills, I’ve always found comfort in simplicity. And I struggle when life starts getting tangled up with too many tools, strategies, and advice. I do believe in being a Roman while in Rome, but sometimes we overdo it. We twist ourselves into knots trying to get everything just right and in the process, we lose the ease and joy of simply being. Take parenting, for example. Did our parents have access to parenting tips they could Google? Nope. But with whatever little knowledge they had, they did their best — and most of us turned out just fine. Yet here I am, drowning in an ocean of parenting tools and advice from the internet, friends, and experts. And instead of feeling empowered, I’m often just a confused aatma, fearful and...

There lived a lady who was more than just a mother-in-law. I know it might sound strange to write an ode for her, especially considering our differences, but the truth is, she was a good lady—flawed, complex, yet undeniably elegant. When I came to Chennai after my marriage, she was the only friend I had. My husband would drop me off at his parents’ place before heading off to work, so it was just her and me. In that time, I discovered a woman of great character. She was magnanimous ,a woman who ran a play school with warmth and dedication. Whenever she was free, she would fill my days with stories: tales of our family, her childhood adventures, accounts of relatives, dreams cherished, and failures endured. Despite my offers to help with her chores, she always insisted on doing things her own way. Her sense of order was remarkable. She carried herself with simplicity and elegance, and even in her 60s, she rode her two-wheeler almost every day to visit us. What I admired most was how she...

There was a time when laughter came easily to me. Before marriage, before responsibilities, before the constant tug-of-war between perfectionism and peace. Somewhere along the way, I became so caught up in making life perfect that I forgot to simply live in the moment. But recently, I’ve started paying attention again to the little moments that bring me joy, the ones that slip away too quickly if I’m not mindful. And so, here they are, the simple joys that make my heart swell. The Magic in My Baby Girl’s Eyes My little girl has the most beautiful eyes—tiny, sparkling, full of wonder. She calls them the marbles of her eyes, and I can’t help but smile every time she says it. We play a game called nosy nosy, where we rub our noses together. It tickles her, and she giggles uncontrollably, her laughter ringing through the air like music. In those moments, nothing else matters. Tiny Boats and Big Smiles There’s a canal nearby where we often go to watch the fish. But my kids and I have a litt...

Parenting today feels like walking a tightrope. Too much control, and they rebel. Too much freedom, and they flounder. Where do we draw the line?  Lately, I’ve been struggling with my pre-teen son. Every day feels like a battle—pushing him to stick to his schedule, reminding him to finish tasks, negotiating screen time limits. It’s exhausting. I don’t remember my parents ever having to do this with me.                Growing up as a millennial, discipline wasn’t a choice. It was a way of life. Waking up early, even on weekends. Keeping our things in order. Following routines like clockwork. Rules defined everything we did. And honestly? I never questioned it. Structure made life easier. But the kids we’re raising today—these Alpha kids—are different. They crave choices, freedom, and flexibility. And even when I offer choices within boundaries, it’s never enough. They always push for more. It terrifies me. The other day, my son was just lazing...