When we got married, one of the first things my husband and I agreed on was that every year we would go on vacation at least once, together discovering different places, spending time with each other away from the daily rigmarole of routine life, coming across different people, their lifestyles and way of living, and above all having some fun. We did it every year. And soon it became a family vacation including our kids, first only one, then two of them.
We travelled the length and breadth of the country, initially living in exceptionally comfortable hotels and in the lap of luxury, enjoying the local cuisines, visiting well-known as well as rarely explored places, collecting memories. We always travelled light and never relied on any porters.
We saw our kids grow. Initially we were carrying them in our arms, and then we held their hands. Soon they became teenagers, first helping us and eventually taking over completely the various responsibilities of travel.
However, last year, after 21 years of marriage, things changed for the first time. As we were planning a trip to Goa during the autumn break, the younger one, who was in Class IX, cried out: “But my footballs zonals are there and I can’t miss them.” The elder one, doing his degree course, categorically stated: “I’ll be travelling with the college drama society to Pilani to participate in a competition.”
Undeterred, both of us decided that on a weekend all four of us would go on a short vacation at a resort in Manesar. However, that stay neither quenched our annual thirst for a vacation nor meet our practice of experience-seeking to which both of us had now become used to.
So we announced to our sons in October that even if they won’t accompany us we would go on a vacation before the year ends. We were sure this threat would make them come around. But they shouted in unison: “Yuppie. We’ll have the whole house to ourselves. What freedom! What a home alone feeling.” As December drew closer, it became clear that they had no intention of going on that annual break with us.
Then one day our elder son, Daksh, asked: “So when and where are both of you going on holiday?” In typical Balraj Sahni-Nirupa Roy style we answered: “Since both of you are not coming, we’re dropping the holiday plan.” His reaction set us thinking. He said: “But this way, both of you will not be able to travel anywhere. I will be busy with my college and Dhruv will have his school, tuition classes and all that. So how long will you wait for all four of us to be there together?”
Those words struck a chord. Then, after 19 years of parenthood, both of us made our first holiday trip without the children. It was a new phase of life.
After warning the maids against being irregular in our absence, instructing the kids on ways to operate the washing machine and doing the other daily chores, stocking a week’s needs at home, we sat in the taxi to leave for the railway station to embark on the new journey of our life. A journey of ‘We Time’.
Similarly, I know of some friends of mine who engage in ‘Me Time’. They are home-makers, but it doesn’t mean their life starts with the home, kids and husband and ends with them.
Apart from taking care of their family and home, they take care of themselves. And believe me, that is a full-time job, which can be done only by a so-called “non-working” woman.
They’ve a charter of activities planned. Some focus on creative aspects such as poetry-writing, drawing and painting; others will be active in the residents’ welfare association or with non-governmental organisations to contribute to society; some others pay attention to self-improvement.
Today, at least the metro and mini-metro cities offer many such avenues: aerobics, zumba, gym, club membership, beauty treatments, book clubs, and what not. The simple idea is to keep oneself busy, and also take care of one’s physical and mental health. As they say, an idle mind is a devil’s workshop.
Adjusting to the void
Some may say both ‘Me Time’ and ‘We Time’ are nothing but manifestations of the empty nest syndrome: once the children have grown up, couples need to adjust to the void created.
However, I prefer to see it as the start of a new phase: that of ‘We Time’ and ‘Me Time’. We should not simply let it pass by. In fact, we should happily utilise this phase to hold each other’s hands, sit together, have leisurely conversations, think about our past with contentment, look at our kids with pride, talk about our future with expectations and thank god for everything.
After all, we do have responsibilities towards ourselves as well as to each other within the family. Let’s cherish these moments, adore ourselves and stay alive.
So, always take care of yourself through ‘Me Time’ and also enjoy your own life with ‘We Time’.
(sahay_preeti@yahoo.co.in)
