The African proverb goes, “It takes a village to raise a child.” Until I became a mother, I never really understood the depth of this adage. In an urban family set-up like ours, where we stay hundreds of miles away from our hometowns, families, and relatives to earn a decent livelihood, where do we find that village?

I am relatively a new mother, just a little more than four years old. I am an ex-corporate employee turned into a full-time mother of one. I am a new-age mother, experimenting with parenting methods, mixing the old with the new, and trying to make the most out of each ordinary day.

When I was in the fourth month of my pregnancy, my parents came down for a week but my mother ended up staying back. Ma accompanied us for checkups and scans, getting all excited hearing the tiny but strong heartbeat, seeing the baby in my womb, and feeling the movements in my belly. In a way, she became a part of my daughter’s life way before she opened her eyes to the world. We were residents of New Delhi then and my husband was in consulting. He had to travel on most weekdays and I would be at work the whole day. But Ma never complained of boredom, always keeping herself occupied with some task or the other, taking care of me and keeping me company when I was home. She went back home for surgery and was back with renewed energy well before her grandchild was due. She was there with us when I went into labour in the middle of a very cold January night and when our daughter, MJ, was born the next morning.

When MJ was one and a half months old, we traveled to my parents’ home in Assam. Meanwhile, COVID-19 was taking the whole world by rage. Later that month, an indefinite lockdown was announced in the country. My husband and younger sister flew there just in time.

My husband turned out to be a devoted and doting father. He chose to spend every spare second with her. Sometimes, he worked with her cradled in his arms. He did everything for her that was to be done for a baby, barring breastfeeding. If MJ were bottle-fed, he would have gladly taken care of that too. My mother and sisters were always ready to provide me with moments of respite and entertain or soothe MJ when needed. Postpartum drove me crazy intermittently, the frustration of being tied down by motherhood and the pandemic getting to me frequently. But my family saw me through that, staying calm even though they must have felt like blasting me off! They are my one true village.

My younger sister had to return to her workplace after three months, but we ended up staying for another year. I chose not to go back to work at the end of my maternity leave. When the second wave of the pandemic swept across the country, we were tucked away in rural Assam. MJ had all her major firsts there-sitting, first meal, head-shaving, crawling, standing, running (yes, she ran before she walked), walking, ear-piercing, first birthday, numerous festivals, and seasons. Reluctantly, the pandemic started loosening its tentacles and we armed ourselves with the vaccine doses. In the middle of MJ’s second year, my husband received a job offer from Hyderabad. We went to New Delhi and wrapped up everything we could in one and a half months. Oh! What a mayhem it felt to be there after our idyllic one-and-a-half years in Assam.

Once again, my mother was with us to see us through. She helped us to move and set up our new home and left in a couple of months. We took to Hyderabad almost immediately, especially me. To me, the city felt like a breath of fresh air. My husband was mostly working from home in the initial months, but he had to start commuting to work regularly before long. I started getting the taste of raising a child singlehandedly. Fortunately within the very first month here, we got a part-time maid and cook to take care of the cleaning and cooking. I chose not to hire a nanny. All of MJ’s waking hours demanded my time and energy. Settling down in a new place, setting up a new home, and raising an active toddler overwhelmed me often.

Slowly, we all fell into a routine. Bit by bit, I finally started burning my pregnancy fat. We started taking MJ down to the play area almost every day. Six months after our move, we enrolled her in a playschool. She was just two years and three months old. My husband was reluctant but I was adamant. I needed a breather. I joined yoga classes. Gradually I started fitting into my old clothes. I started driving and joined swimming classes. I made regular physical exercise a part of my daily life. It helps me to keep myself sane and fit.

MJ still goes to the same school and is almost four and a half years old now. In the afternoons, we go for gymnastics and crafts classes, spend time together at home, or go to the swimming pool or play area in our apartment complex. When she was younger and I needed to do any chores around the house, I would video call Ma or my sisters and they kept MJ engaged for some time. Yeah, remote babysitting! However, now she is capable of independent playing and lets me vanish for a few minutes in intervals. I try and involve her in some of the chores too.

I was accepted for a prestigious writing mentorship program last year. When people asked me if I was working on any writing project, I would complain that I hardly had any time. However, during those three months of the program, I carved out time to complete my weekly assignments. That made me realize that it is I who can make time for myself and no one else. I did slacken miserably in the following months. One day at a time, I am fighting procrastination and taking control of my time. When MJ goes to school, I go for yoga, write, draw, or just watch some television. When she is in her gym or crafts class, I read, write, or draw while waiting. Some nights I do that after she goes to bed. Once My husband is back from work, MJ is all over him. During weekends, he spends all his time with MJ, allowing me to relax, especially in the afternoons. Sometimes his friends come over and they go out together taking her. Also, I am more connected with my friends now, making conscious efforts to do so.

Brick by brick, we have developed a support system for ourselves. All the people and places who are helping us to raise our kids are the bricks – the maid, the cook, the school, the play area, the gym, crafts and swimming coaches, and friends who have become family. Yes, it indeed takes a village to raise your child. But you do not get it readily anymore. You will have to build your very own modern village in your unique way.