lump, what were you telling me?

was slightly late in getting back from work... R was home since her Eid holidays have started... i did meet her in the morning twice when i dropped her off for her Maths classes and agian dropped her back home...
to my surprise, when i got back, i saw a plate on the sink... it had the leftovers of a mini-meal that R had... was i seeing right?... i asked and she said, "i was hungry so helped myself to coriander chutney and rice?"... i felt a lump in my throat... was i happy or was i sad? happy because she felt hungry on her own? sad because she helped herself while i was late? happy because she is slowly becoming more and more independent, something that i had wanted so desperately when she could not move on her own? or sad because she was outgrowing me?...
i quickly gulped down my lump and served lunch... but the scene of my child home alone and helping herself to food has stayed on... though i still do not know why that lump came... what was it reminding me of? my inadequacy? my time up? my insufficient parenting skills? my... what?

my century... collars up!

this is to me or to you? not sure, i think we will share it since it started with me, but now, when i do not write, i get gentle nudges (why no posts? the lady who blogs infrequently and so on)... so it is to you too... let the happy partnership continue...

we are what we choose...

... to be or not to be... including what we choose to do by ourselves...
i have come across women of all sorts... women who make me feel proud that i am one of them, women who have made me happy beyond words, women who have made me feel ashamed that i am one of them, women who have made me cry with sadness/happiness...
category 1: women who are at home, but very very efficient home-makers, caring for everyone, making excellent food, looking after the sick, rejoicing when the children are small with their little successes, rejoicing when they grow up (and go away)... but basking in the glory of the husband (though not doormats), taking care not to waste his money, trying to economise on his money so that they have a better old age, sacrifice her desire for all else's, feel happy when others are... and let me tell you, this category of women are getting rarer by the minute...
category 2: women who are home, but are inefficient home makers, do not cook, do not care, do not care about others, do not economise on husband's money, bring up sloppy kids, do not sacrifice but make others do, exploit others, manipulate them to getting her way, crib endlessly, order around, are very demanding and get their way, are not earning and have no intention to, though if they tried, they could have, cunning so can pretend well enough... and let me tell you, this breed is increasing...
category 3: women who understand that they are better off outside the home than at home, cook when feel like, but makes sure that food is there for all meals, generally efficient, do not overdo their home-making skills, are realistic, take care of kids and husband, avoids waste, saves her money, tries to be a good mother-wife combo, tries to be a good human being, above all, is independent and is happy that way, does not crib, is guile-less and straight, refuses to be doormats... and let me tell you, this breed is increasing too...
then there are mixes and matches of the above, with a trait or two traded in or out... but the three above are the broad ones...
i have ready examples in all of these categories, but have not given them on purpose... take a little time to fix yourself in the category you belong to...no, you need not tell me, i will know if i know you... so enjoy alone...

handshake and hug over hilsa

this is a typical weekend scene at the hypermarket... yes, the hilsa can be substituted by bhendi, cabbage or car wash soap, but avid socialising happens on weekends where one is just supposed to go for business, i mean, something that has to be done...
i still haven't figured out why and how one can go beyond the customary hello or hi at the hypermart... i cannot, since i always am in a rush when i step in there since i either am between two tasks or am just struggling to recall what i have to buy -- i go only once a week... the hypermart is not a pleasant destination for me, i go because i have to... so i just need to finish all that i have in mind and am off...
i understand that for many that is the only destination they go to in the week... so it is an outing-cum-shopping-cum-socialising... and no, can't blame them either, but what i dread is getting caught by one such person while i am running at the store... the opening sentence is an accusation, "how come haven't seen me?" while i struggle with the explanation, tugged in with how they are, etc. (i can't go very much beyond this)...comes the next googly, "when is your next trip to India?"... i am unsure, since many a times, it is not yet planned... seeing my unsure answer, "oh, then you are having your in-laws here, am sure"... all these, while i am still strying to gauge the next question and preparing the answer in advance... while they fill me with all the details from their end, son gone to the States, daughter to Australia, we cannot decide where to go next, are we availing of the dsicounted fares to India and so on and so forth...
while i am tired and am waiting to escape, comes the last straw on the camel's back, "have organised a kitty on Thursday... come over with your daughter." i have foolishly attended one or two such parties, felt totally out of place...but now have become smarter and lie glibly, "i already have something lined up... am so sorry,"... i finally escape and am breathing light, so very pleased with myself... and my narrow escape.

greed is thy creed

was at the exchange today for sending money to meet commitments back to India... the loan to be paid off for a house that we will live God knows when, for the SIPs... so on and so forth... this is a regular ritual...
now with exchange rates for a toss, we gain when we send money home... so there was a mad rush at the exchange... all types were there... the corporate sahib, the poor journo-trying-to-look-rich, the construction workers, the engineers, the bankers... and our man at the exchange counter was trying his best to help out... help out with conversion (that is a mundane request), help out with filling in cheques, help out with the odd request of touching up the rate (and this request came from the most well-dressed man, carrying some thick bundles of currency... and he wanted the best rate... he had called up our man and had warned him of his arrival)... in front of all of us, with pidly amounts...
our man started sweating... how could he do anything, his expression shouted? but the suited-booted corporate man, his bald head shining, would not leave him...
just to postpone the problem, our counter man told him to wait till he had got rid of small-time people like us...
i finished my transaction and while walking away, looked at him to make sure he was within his mind... he was, patiently waiting for a better deal than any one of us had got... the construction worker before me was happy that the rate was better than his last transaction last month... so he walked away in no time
but the baldy wanted more and was waiting, making calls from his Blackberry, but haggling over some decimal points in the rate... is he funny? or am i, for my silly ideas?

let's bring up human beings, not daughters

just told you about one of the books i am at...Janaki, one of the sisters, who elopes from home to stall an arranged marriage, chooses to marry a Muslim film star... she is Indian, and Merchant is talking about 1990s...
the other one i am reading, Doris Lessing's The Golden Notebook is about two sigle Brit women who have chosen to remain single, having gone through relationships, borne children, seen it all... for the purpose of gaining fullness of life... avidly political, one of the women, Anna, who lives in a commune for a period, is appalled that there are certain "behaviours" expected from women, and this none states, but her then boyfriend...
Anna is Lessing's creation in the early 1960s, while talking about the post-World War II London and Europe at large...
so irrespective of spatial difference, cultural separateness, or time, women have remained women...
women...one half of the human population... but expected by ALL to follow rules laid down by some others, meet the expectation parameters of some others... and many a times these "some others" could well be very close to her... Janaki runs from the writ of her father and aunt who are having a rollicking time over Janaki's dead mom... Anna dumps her "modern" boyfriend because he is feudal while a member of the Socialist Party...
and these are not very far from our own lives, are they? we have, to an extent, followed stereotypes...how long will we keeping running, dumping, throwing out? how long more will we keep meeting only others' expectations?
i hope our daughters have freer choices when it comes to their lives... that they will be looked as humans first, women later... that they can live without the burden of expectations...
can we ensure this little for them? the first step should be us, the moms... let us free them of our expectations first... expectations from daughters, not at the human level... let us create human beings, not bring up "daughters".

what i would well do with... but don't

started reading Ameen Merchant's The Silent Raga... nice read, ok story... but one sentence that touched my heart was: Nothing hardens a person as the lack of appreciation... not the exact words but that is the sense in a nutshell...
how true... when we do things that are not exactly to our liking, but just to please others (for a start, which later become a habit)-- and let's face it, in life there are very many such things, aren't there? and no one notices it and goes about in a rather business-like attitude, doesn't it kill the inside?
well, if that's over-stating it, then such acts of cold ignores are certainly meant as a silent jab, creating a raw wound on the soul...
we have all faced many such intances... where the good are conveniently glossed over, forgotten... but the goods create expectation in the others' minds so much so that when we falter on the same task, we get pulled up since it did not match the benchmark that we ourselves have created...
i do, and am sure there are many like me, who would not find appreciation out of place at all... but as luck would have it, nothing comes my way...
B's constant refrain is... who appreciates people at home? so a good dish (a rarity), or an efficiently-planned do, or holiday... is met with business-like silence... now, of course, this very same thing is reciprocated with elan...i too have perfected the art of appreciating silently... logic should be the same, globally, afterall, you see...
at work, of course, the ways are different... one learns what appreciation is and what is not appreciation... and ultimately, there is silent communication that keeps happening... which sometimes translates to better bottomlines, better pay cheques and healthier bonuses... so the purpose is served...

each person, new

nothing can be truer than this... there are stereotypes in the broad contours, but when it comes to dissecting a person and taking all the nuances, each person is as different from the rest, as apple from orange... some traits might match, some quality may find resonance, some talk may be similar... but overall, we are made different...
at work (and over all these years), i keep meeting various shades of people, both within and outside the office... forget the physical aspects of tall/short, fat/slim, dark/fair, attractive/unattractive... now these have seemed to matter less and less... and believe me, each is unique when it comes to personality types... some very hardened, some very soft; some searching, some trusting; some smart, some simple; some tough, some innocent; some loving to make personal comments, some maintaining that line between private and public; some getting familiar in no time, some waiting for the ice to melt; some overt, some covert; some loud, some sophisticated; and many a combination of all these and more... the list is endless...
in fact, i love observing each person and ruminating over them when i am alone... these lead me to laugh at times, feel sad, make me angry, or thoughtful... but never hateful... i have learnt now to savour the taste of accepting people as they are since it helps me deal with them better, next time on... if need be, i put the guard high, or pull it off totally or place it somewhere in between... but each interaction helps me draw a picture of that person in the mirror of my mind...
some though have not ceased to surprise me, with their ability of being the bottomless pit for taking in insults... F, the nice secy of the horrid boss, aeons back, who got all the shit, but still defended the boss, "she is like that only... and now much better," or N, who takes in pressure from all quarters, yet smiles endlessly...
possibly, it is because they are more patient, more tolerant... but aginst wrong? my silent question is: why?... i have got no answers...

you would have been 75 today

but no, you went when you were 64...
you always were in a hurry, in a rush to get things done... you could not, after a bath wait for your meal to be served (but ate only a handful), you could not, after having gotten ready, wait to leave, if we had decided to go somewhere...
in a word, you could not, after having taken a decision, wait to compelete the job... but that was at the personal realm... with us...
in office too, from what we heard after you were gone, if you had decided something, it had to be done pronto, in a jiffy...
so possibly, once you decided, you just went and went for good, without even bothering to send us a warning, without allowing us to even call a doc...
i still hold that against you and will till the day i live...

which name does the world know you by?

this is a question that plagues only people from West Bengal... we have this tradition of a bhalo naam (proper name) and a daak naam (name that you are addressed by people who are near and dear)... this name controversy is the entire plot of Jhumpa Lahiri's Namesake, with Gogol unable to decide which is better, this or Nikhil...
the R you are familiar with is her daak naam, which B had kept while we were still at college... what guts?
but i was determined when i went for delivery to Mom's that my child will have a proper name on the birth certificate... mine had this written verbatim: "A female child weighing 3 pounds was born to Mr ASM on January 1..."... how ludicrous, as if he delivered me?
so to avert that, i had decided that in my child's case (and i was determined it had to be a girl... B did not let me down on this one)... it had to be A...
so when R/A came, and i was back in form, B asked me, "what name shall we put for R in the birth certificate?" i said, "A"... and felt within, "my daughter, my initials and my Dad's too."
slightly proud on this achievement, we enrolled R in school, one after another, this being her sixth school and only at school is she known as A... the rest of the world knows her as R...

cha-muri, the perfect accompaniment to the perfect adda

first let me translate... cha is tea, muri is puffed rice (but here it means the mixture of wafer thin green chillis, mustard oil, onion, groundnut, and coriander leaves) and adda means aimless discussion on every possible thing -- from astronomy to the CERN experiment on the aftermath of the Big Bang to Singur to the Delhi blasts... it is discussion that has no results, but can engage an entire state...
so, as i was saying, cha-muri, at home used to be the accompaniment to adda that we had almost every evening at home... and the particiapnts could be just Mom and me, or when free, Dad and bro... on some occasions, my aunt (Mom's sis) or another (Dad's sis) or yet another (Mom or Dad'd bro's wives)... these were at the family level...
here of course, we rivetted apart everyone... from the neighbour to the Prime Minister... and the laughter could almost be heard from where the lane began...
Dad had his separate adda mates...it could be over a session of bridge... or plain talk... the topics were different... more serious, more to do with wider goals and less of rivetting...
when i my marriage was settled, my Mom's sis had said, "our sessions will miss you..."... i too missed them badly when i was on the Thane fast, virtually hanging out of the train...but made it a point to catch up whenever we went on annual trips...
so when R came along, Dad said, "here comes the newest gang-member of the ladies' adda session..."... there is one pic of baby R, with all of us having our cha-muri and yapping, with R peacefully asleep, used to the chatter from her womb days...

i hate unsaid expectations

need i say more? but i still will since i have to give vent somewhere...
i hate it when X, Y or Z have expectations but do not state it... most of the times, we homo sapiens, the king of animals that we are, with sharply honed social skills, decipher the unsaid ones since our mind constantly measures the space that we get or give to each other... but there are some experts (i call them social crooks) who put on a sham board saying, "I have no expectations", but either go behind the back to complain or communicate it with attitude, saying, "I expected something different."
i routinely land up in problems with such people... since i am a big votary of the spoken word, said clearly, when you make out that i am not able to get what you are trying to say...
i do it... when i understand that someone is regularly goofing up on my expectations, i speak my mind... it makes things easier for me and the person in question, rather than have two people sulk and squirm...
but many would rather do just that than speaking clearly...
possibly, that is the reason why i come across as harsh, tough, heavyweight (which i am)... i say what i have to, not a very wise thing always, but cannot change myself now...

who do you love the most?

R routinely asks me this, expecting that it is she whose name i will take... sensing the feeling and the searching eyes, i do just that, but then i have this gnawing guilt in me... is it the truth i have told my trusting child? while it gives her succour, is it not my parents whom i love most?... no, no, it is R... noh, it is Pa and Ma...confused, confused...
but when i ask her, she does not know... she says, "Pa and you, with Pa a lil more," dragging the lil to cover ten seconds...
as a child, i did ask (rather harrass) my parents the same question... but there, it was more to make sure that they loved me and not by bro... what an impossible, impertinent demand? i do not have two kids, so cannot judge... but as a parent, if i had two, could i love any one less? no, not possible...
Dad was clear. he said, "first my parents, then your Mom, then you both."
Mom followed and said, "Your Dad first, you both next, then my parents."
therein i think lies the difference... between generations, between Mom and Dad, bewteen genders...
when it comes to quantifying love, the three faces that come to mind are R, Pa, Ma... so where does B fit in? and what about my bro? with whom i lived 18 years of my life, shared the same room, all the pranks and the food, the uncontrolled giggles at dinner so much so that we were made to sit back to back so that our eyes would not meet?
B does... despite all the differences, i possibly cannot live without him... while i am done ten years without Dad... am prepared (or so i think) that Ma is getting old... and R will, when she grows, be on her own and leave us... so does bro...
so am i clear on whom i love the most? no... one more area of confusion...
is it the same as you???

dealing with goodness

a family we know through an acquaintance,A, gets their immigration to Canada... the husband is a colleague of A... they have to land in the country to get some paper work done and A, whose family would be here on vacation, is good enough to offer his home for use by this family, mentioning that they will have to first get an international driving licence and then a rent-a-car to move around...
when A's family is here, they meet up, A gives over the keys of the house and a home video shot by his two kids on where to find what...
A goes to UAE, to Moscow (where his wife is from) and they receive a call from their neighbours in Canada that the small Dodge which is parked next to theirs is not there... panicking, they call the guy at home and do not get a response... dialling his mobile, it goes to his voicemail...
when he does call back later, he admits that he has taken the car out, without a international driving licence... A requests them that this is not done since they could have landed in trouble... "don't worry, we would not be in trouble... we would have paid our way out." Not knowing that these things do not happen there, A gets worried but has little option, but to wait...
his family gets over their Moscow trip and land back at Alberta... settling down they discover that the car has a problem with the brake... the gears of A's son's bike have been fiddled with and the glass table in the hall is loose...
A has a tough time with his wife calling in whenever she discovers problems, with the last straw delivered by his daughter who wants a Blackberry as moral compensation for the guitar that the visiting family has tinkered with and left a string torn...
A looks bewildered... he does not clearly know what he has done to get these brickbats...he was trying to help, but now he needs help... will the erring family stand beside him? nope, nope...

two calls that keep me going

i am done with two calls i make every weekend -- Mom and Didirani (about the latter in some other post)... now these are fixed calls which are interspersed with some impulse calls that i make within the week, most of the weeks...
the similarity between these two calls are: they keep me going throughout the week, plus the numerous other details that we share over the call... the maids, the weather, the gifts that they are planning now that the yearly festival, Durga Puja, is fast approaching, the winter after the Pujas and last but not the least, when is my next visit due, so that both these women can start preparing mentally of all that they want to do with me and want me to do with them... that was the positive...
this last point always has a negative since neither of them is ever satisfied with the amount of time i spend with them... they would ideally want me to stay the entire duration with them singly... but i have my other commitments too... and in this, they are very very selfish... neither wants me to be shared... Mom gets irrational at times and says, "You come once in so many months, or a year and a half later, and all you do is get a list of things that you have to finish... what about my list?"... which list is it Ma? "It is the one i made about all those things i got to tell you about... the aunt who never calls, the nephew who comes only when he needs, the neighbour who has gotten so busy that she does not bother about anyone...." that eluisve list which is full of ordinary, nothing-new information, but which she has to let me know...
did u tell these to B, my bro? "He is busy so no time for these small things. Now tell me when i can begin with the list," she says with the decision that she has already made about telling me those things which matters to her, but not me... she knows it, but has to share them with me and me alone...
i am stumped with her patience at my total disinterest, but give in (even if it means some rescheduling of my own list), knowing that these intangibles do not last a lifetime...

in principle...

one of the most dicey terms, in principle is one sure recipe for future disagreements between two parties. to me, two sides -- be it individuals, dissenting political parties, warring factions -- whosoever... will surely lend itself/themselves to future disagreements since the seed of discontent is never resloved with so-called "in principle" agreement. this is legalese, a way of garbing, a way of stalling an outright confrontation, so that parties can always say that they agree in principle on the end, but not the means of attaining a goal...
look at the Tata Motors plant at Singur in West Bengal... both the government and the Opposition say that they favour industry (the goal), but they have divergent view on the means -- the Opposition wants land to be returned two years after it was taken away from farmers; the Government wants the Opposition to accept the latest package that they have gone public on to be accepted... all this while both had "in principle" agreed to resolve the issue and both agree on the path to development, industry...
who is being held to ransom? neither those in power, nor the Opposition, nor the Tatas (since of it is not Singur, they will roll the Nano out of their other factories), but the common man who had pinned his hopes on the factory for various reasons...
but who is bothered? who is listening? none...

views and views...

1. met an acquaintance at a mall after a long time... he had gone on vacation and was back after admitting his daughter to a medical school... good news, certainly...
when i mentioned that his responsibilities were now over since she was on a firm route, he commented, "the wedding is still left."
even for a budding doc, marriage holds a preeminent position... is this cultural conditioning or is it the way we want to continue?...

2. long back, when i was working for a NBFC (got stuck? a Non-banking Financial Company), the CEO, who had pathetic English, wanted to send his only son to Doon School... i was requested to do the correspondence on the couple's behalf with the School since neither of them could complete a sentence in the Queen's language...
while this was on, another gentleman who was close to the CEO asked him, "how would you manage to stay without H?"... the father replied, "it is not a question of how or whether we can stay without him... it is more a question of how he lives his life 20 years down the line."... he had clearly outstripped his cultural conditioning, i felt...

magic eraser

i want to work on an eraser... funny? yes, because it is not the ordinary eraser that we use to erase a pencil mark from a paper, or a concealer that we apply to hide our dark circles (well, mine are soooo deep that there is no concealer that can work, not that i have tried any)...
the eraser i want to work on will erase events and their memories from the paper of time... the moment we have something that has happened which is not desirable, we merely erase it from having happened so well that not only do we strike out the event, but also the associated memories...
what this implies is we can fiddle around with time...
how happy could we be if that happened? i would erase the memory of growing up, all the pangs, all the trials and tribulations, go back to cradle and refuse to grow up...
in fact, it will come with multiple options of what one wants at any point of time and we could adjust it to suit our moods and fancies... as many moods, that many options; as many people, that many versions... id God listening? or is Darwin aware that such a thing could be done... well some may want to go back to the ape stage too:))
what a circus would we end up in? will it be worse than the one we are already in? or better?

phenomenal

this is what i would call phenomenally deep, totally all rounded, but telling a story all the while... listen to this and tell me how you liked it...

who is the child more like? u or me?

eternal question that plagues all couples, irrespective of where they hail from, orient or occident, which culture they belong to, where they stay, what they do...
as soon as the child is born, there are discussions on who it looks like... mom, dad, grand parents or uncle and aunts... both families stake claim to a certain part of the newborn... hands are like X, feet like Y, forehead like F, nose like Z...
as soon as habits start forming, again the same battle of ownership...
later when traits start showing, a similar pattern...
while all this keep happening, we seem to forget the little one... that she/he is a unique creation and does not have to be like anyone else, forget the families...
and one odd thing about the fathers is that when the child does something good, he becomes the proud parent... contrarily, when she goofs up... in either a subject or a decision or judging people... the lineage is quickly transferred lock stock and barrel to the mother...
funny, but happens many times... so watch out and next time it does happen, do raise a voice...
and here, i am no exception... for all the good traits that R has, B is responsible; for all the difficult traits that she has, i am... no i do not agree with this and make it known very clearly... so you too do your bit, please.

mr hariharan... i wonder where he is now...

he was my pillar of support for five years in a row... 1993-1997... for the annual exercise called Annual Report which is a mega exercise in any company, more so where the business is finance and it is diversifying...
mr hariharan was the head of a department called MIS... i did not, when i just joined the company, know what it stood for... he himself explained to me looking at the ignorant expression on my face..."It is Management Information Systems," he said and blinked affectionately...
for me, he was the source of all data, of all departments, including a section which came as an appendix, but had great relevance for everybody within the company since it spelt out people's salaries... i discovered that even if HR went wrong on that crucial data, mr hariharan would not...thus, i discovered, i had to cling on to him... and discovered this pretty early in my new job...
he not only cross-checked data that the 101 departments gave, he also told me what to do when i got stuck which i routinely did...
he also told me how to get my work done with the various tough nuts that chaired the departments who derived some vicarious pleasure if a new incumbent went for the facts and figures...
so, in various stages, i have landed up with mr hariharan with my frustrations... how mean that X department head was, how much following up was needed with each department so that they gave their proof on time so that we could meet the statutory deadlines laid down by the SEBI... the list was endless at the cooking stage...
then came the proof stage and again my guide offered to read the draft and correct it wherever needed...
at the last stage, he would glance thorough the proof and made me sign only after he was satisfied...
almost like a father on my job, he is the only one who said on my last working day before i went on my maternity leave, "Come back with a healthy baby girl."
there was a glisten in his eyes as he said this...

that's how we spent our birthdays... right or wrong

in stark contrast to the birthdays that kids today are used to, ours -- my bro and mine -- were simple...
at the start of the birthday week itself, there were discussions of what my parents had done that particular day, X or Y years back... as the day drew closer, the details increased... the intensity of the sun (in my case), the sudden shower (in his), the uncle or aunt who had come that day, the time when my Dad waiting outside the OT (in both cases) saw us first...
these we heard with rapt attention... only in my bro's case, i had some detail to fill in which he could not...
the day began with a soft hug and kiss from our parents early in the morning... that was the only day they did this... affection, for them, was not a thing for public display... then some special dish that we liked, a constant dessert -- rice pudding, that's considered auspicious... and some calls from uncles/aunts who cared to remember...
no special gifts, except books... no party calling all the kids in town... but we felt on top of the world, as if we were the chosen ones for that day...
now, we the same ones, celebrate our kids' birthdays with expensive (relatively) gifts, a party calling their friends, a cake cutting that has replaced the rice pudding, forget the hugs and kisses that we do every day... and i am not sure whether our kids really feel as the chosen one...
are we right as parents? or were they?
were we ok as kids? are are they today?...
for once, i do not know... and am confused...

identity down your gullet

a certain community in my native country has this custom, needlessly said for the females... that just after the wedding, the bride is supposed to be known by a new name, with her husband's name attached, just in case she forgets who is it that she belongs to, in addition to the new surname... and in none of these does she have a choice... it is the new family that decides on the name...
strange but true... ...
can we get sillier than this? to my mind no...
AK becomes C(the new name)L(the husband)V(the new surname of the groom's family)...what the hell?
i would better have died than change my name... how could i identify with a name that is given when i am a quarter century old? and what does the passport office do while issuing passports since all the educational certificates are in the maiden name?
well, just for your info, i did not change my sirname also since i found someone with the same sirname as i was born... yes, there were raised eyebrows, but we managed to freeze them there and then... and comments galore, but who cares as long as i still go by the name i was christened at birth...

herd mentality

many of us, if not most, suffer from this... it is easier to take a route that is well laid out, to follow examples, to do what others do...
but why always be the follower? why not care to lead too? why not lay down the pattern that others would want to follow?
it may be from a fear of rejection, of what others might say... since most of these others are followers too and not leaders, so for them any one who takes on a different route is a black sheep to watch out for...
also, originality takes some new thinking, some new effort, some breaking of rules, some charting of new roads... who wants to take that pain?
so just follow and be at peace... this is the mental make up...
but break the rules once, set the pattern for a change and see the joy that follows... first will be the feeling of having done "it"... that "it" will give a high that is not quantifiable... which is much above the comfort that follows a follower... yes, there will be initial questions, but with the confidence, with the sure gait of an achiever all critiques can be silenced... soon they too will start following the new path...
it is a different self that has been created, a new you/me... so just do it... get out of the herd and create your own...

learning to let go

one of the toughest things in life is this... i am learning new lessons in this every day and the more i try to internalise, it seems there is more to learn on this...
though i feel i am not a control freak, others are not of the same opinion... amongst people whose opinion matters is who else, but my bitter half... and he is 1000 percent sure that i am a control freak... so right now, the emotional tread mill i am riding every day is to let go... and who else again, but let go of a part of me who is now being made to study on her own...
i have severe angst on this one... sure as i am not whether she will manage... will she know the priorities? will she be able to fit all the portions on time? will she know where she needs to concentrate her efforts? will she know the spellings she is not confident of? will she care to practise those tricky sums that she gets stuck on?... and the list continues...
but i have to steer clear since i am not sure whether it is her i am helping (or as B puts it, handicapping her) or it is me i am helping... if it is not the former, i have no business in helping myself on this... all his logic and i am hearing him, as i pen this down...
but really this is tough... whole evenings which were packed with R... her lessions, her activities, her questions, her jokes... have fallen vacant... both of us have been given the stricture that unless we steer clear of each other, R may as well be packed off to a boarding school... this while i used to frequently threaten (only emptily) that the only medicine that will do R good, will be a stint at a boarding... now i am scared since i do not want that to happen...
now, in my vacant evenings, i wonder how Mom spends her entire life alone... neither of her children around whom her whole life revolved at one time, so much so that she did not have time for her natal set up, are with her now... both are grown and are on their own... so what does she think about?
possibly that is the reason whenever we picked a fight with each other (my bro and me) and Mom and Dad stopped us... they said, "you will understand us better when you both become parents in your lives."

Sun's annual leave

this is that part of the year again when, though not weather-wise still, but going by the time the sun sets, it is clear that the time of shortened days have arrived...
the nearer we get to the Equinox, the greater the feeling i have each year that the sun is in need of rest... so it gets to bed earlier... having worked overtime during the summer, it is time that it takes a break (and gives us one too), though in reality, there is nothing like a rest for the sun... if days are getting shorter here, it is getting longer in the Southern Hemisphere... but since i have, till date, only lived in the Northern, it suits me well to think that the sun is working flexi hours...
just imagine our state if the sun, one fine day, just does not rise or rises lazily when our clocks are well past 12 noon?
i, for one, will keep snuggling in bed hoping that my watch is wrong since behind the curtains i will still not see the day...
it is difficult to think of a life without the sun since we have timed ourselves accordingly...
one day, i hope to ask sun, "don't you feel tired of this routine? why don't you inform us and go on take your annual leave... we will adjust admirably, i assure you."
then if the sun listens, we can all have a ball... miss work, be in bed all the while...
but how does one deal with hunger???? moot question, na?

searching for memories

long back, when in college, while winding up for the day from the canteen (well, there were many days, when we went to college, but did not attend any class, lolled in the canteen the whole day and returned home from where we started the day), we met a middle aged man...
he struck us because he was not a familiar face and most middle aged men were our teachers whom we knew and who would not come that way, anywhere near the college canteen...
the other reason why he struck us was the searching look on his face, his eyes in particular... he was tall, very well dressed, carried an expensive leather brief case (the kind that was in fashion then), wore the latest (then) cut shoes that were shining clean...
we crossed glances with each other amongst ourselves and one of us asked him, "are you looking for somebody?"
at first, he did not answer... on another attempt, we understood that he had not heard our initial query at all... and replied politely, "yes, memories"... and continued immersed in his search with a faraway look in his eyes...
intangible it was then, tangible it is now...
we do go back to college sometimes, if not every visit to the city, at least once in five years... now, we have taken the place of the man whom we found so out-of-place then... i am sure there are teenagers who discuss us the same way we discussed the gentleman... and find the same look in our face and eyes...
one good fortune for us is... part of the memory stays with us... B was my class mate in college...

simplistic first borns

to me, first borns are simplistic, impulsive and more innocent than the other siblings... and no, this is just not autobiographical (yes, i am a first born), but also borne out of what i have seen in many other families, my marital family included...
first borns tend to be more attached, more sentimental, more adjusting...
they adjust and accommodate when a sibling or two comes, while the latter borns arrive when the first borns are already there...
possibly because born when the parents are relatively younger, less mature, first borns are impressionistic, take time to grow up, while the latter ones are much more worldly wise, mature faster and give a lesson or two to the elder sibling...
first borns also get flustered easier and faster compared to the latter... they have a lower threshold level...
their capacity to love is more, they also tend to be less selfish... many a times, they tend to carry on traditions which have little value for the latter borns... they also have a deeper connection with the wider family... since they come at a time when the immediate parents have stronger ties with their family at large...
parents' expectations from first born is always more... they give up with their latter borns... they learn with them, but with the first born, they are much more harsh, much more expressive, much more demanding...
given all of these, i would still want to be born first to my parents since it is then i who will be the first to give them a new identity... call them Ma and Pa...

to my Chiquitita***

Chiquitita, tell me whats wrong
Youre enchained by your own sorrow
In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow
How I hate to see you like this
There is no way you can deny it
I can see that youre oh so sad, so quiet

Chiquitita, tell me the truth
Im a shoulder you can cry on
Your best friend, Im the one you must rely on
You were always sure of yourself
Now I see youve broken a feather
I hope we can patch it up together

Chiquitita, you and I know
How the heartaches come and they go and the scars theyre leaving
Youll be dancing once again and the pain will end
You will have no time for grieving
Chiquitita, you and I cry
But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you
Let me hear you sing once more like you did before
Sing a new song, chiquitita
Try once more like you did before
Sing a new song, chiquitita

So the walls came tumbling down
And your loves a blown out candle
All is gone and it seems too hard to handle
Chiquitita, tell me the truth
There is no way you can deny it
I see that youre oh so sad, so quiet

Chiquitita, you and I know
How the heartaches come and they go and the scars theyre leaving
Youll be dancing once again and the pain will end
You will have no time for grieving
Chiquitita, you and I cry
But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you
Let me hear you sing once more like you did before
Sing a new song, chiquitita
Try once more like you did before
Sing a new song, chiquitita
Try once more like you did before
Sing a new song, chiquitita

-- ABBA in 1978...
*** which roughly means "little girl" in Spanish... no she does not read this page yet... when she does, she'll know...

toast to self-control

this is my 4th year in a Muslim country, and the 4th Ramadan...
today is the 4th day of the 4th Ramadan and i still haven't understood one simple thing -- how do people stay away from food and water for more than 12 hours and in this heat?
i fast one day a year (actually not even fast, since i do take food, but not rice and non-veg)... sometime in April... to pray for the good of my child... and i have to say that fasting is not my cup of tea...
i am a foodie, though i do not cook; i know how to, but hate to, except if i am trying out a new dish or i have called someone i really like... now all of these are very very rare... but i love to eat (no wonder my weighing machine has conked off)... and have no intention to diet... thus all the more reason why i just cannot fathom how one can fast for more than half a day, one month at a stretch...
during Ramadan, our (the non-fasting people) contribution is to attend as many Iftars as possible (by invitation), make justice to the food served (and it is delicious) and wonder even more how women who are fasting can churn out the delectable variety...
some things, as they say, is best shelved for the next life since i will not understand many of these things here and now...
for now, i will concentrate on all the Iftar invites and hog to glory...
Ramadan Kareem!

the grand old dame

my grandma-in-law was truly amazing. a middle school drop-out (not out of choice, but by marriage), she quit school but not learning. a regular reader of the daily paper and books, this wise lady was in charge of my marital family... she made the decisions on what is to be cooked, when some visits are to be made, what gifts are to be given on occasions in and outside the family...
in fact, when B decided on me, it was this lady who vetted his choice... met me at their place, caressed me and said, "my grandson loves you... so we all do."
it was she my parents met before the wedding... and came away thoroughly impressed...
the best gift i received from her was a poem she wrote and sent on the morning of the wedding, welcoming me into her family...
we have shared a lot of time together, cut jokes at each other and other members of the family... her stories of her day and time enchanted me... the imprint of her being i still see in B since it was she who looked after him in his childhood...
when my Dad passed away, she was so stumped that she could not come to meet us... only when we, my Mom, bro and i were a little settled, did she come and said, just these, "it was a battle between D (death) and D (doctor) and the latter was defeated."
she herself passed away in 2001... going back to the family has changed forever, since there is none who has such unbound affection for me... the only time she was visibly upset with me is when i enrolled R into a play school when she was just two... she had commented, "her mother wants a Nobel laureate out of her, thus the hurry to make the little child grow up."
i did not change my decision and R continued to go to school, but i remember her words whenever i try to hurry R into a grown up mode...