another new year... will it be new for all?

Midnight today will usher a new year... new hopes... new goals (i know it is cliched, but many still make goals in the wake of a new year)...
midnight today, will not make a big, huge difference in the lives of many others who are living every minute in fear in Gaza where for the past five days there has been relentless rocket fires...
this post is not to discuss the right/wrong of what is happening and address why is it happening...
i am too puny a person to do that...
for the moment, let's think about the countless injured, in ramshackle hospitals, which are running short on every blood group... the countless homeless, trying to track their children, who may or may not be alive, mass funerals which are not attended by the kith and kin since many are nameless faces... but very much people of this planet, with the same emotions, same pains, same joys, same aspirations as you and me... but so much less fortunate than us... have you wondered at this small truth?
i have... and felt grateful for this small life of mine, which despite many issues, which i, at times, consider enormous, has given me the joy of a child who misses my absence, a husband who still wants a lot of attention and care, a Mother who still pines for my company and demands periodically that i tell her today when i am going home next, a job which is satisfying (if not hugely lucrative), colleagues who are good human beings...
in 2009, that is my only goal... to remain a satisfied individual, crib less, carry on with a smile and make some few people around me happy... AND (this is most important) shrug all bias, since that is the root of all unhappiness...

the real ME

where is she???? the real me... i am delving deep and i know not where she is...
to Mom, i am the daughter who is needed for everything that one can imagine, her details of money spent, where should she go for her next holiday, her complaints against the world, her agonies of loneliness...
to R, i am her Mom, whom she needs, to tell her her stupid stories, her quarrels in school or her performance at the Toastmasters classes that she is going for in her winter vacation, show her anger, negotiate a deal (most of such deals are wholly unfair and totally in R's favour) but one she cannot afford to ignore since as she herself says, "you are my fat, sweet Mummy"...
to B, i am the wife, who does not cook (but arranges for food for all meals), who keeps a neat home, who is still more a friend rather than a wife, so can share a good bit of his secrets (odd ones, like the new sexy secy in office, without insecurity) but who knows him bone to bone and whose opinions he relies on...
to natal family, the eldest of my generation, even now cherished by aunts and uncles (on both sides) who make an effort to keep themselves informed about this idiot who is too busy with her life that she does not keep a tab on them...
to marital family, the elder daughter-in-law, somewhat distant, somewhat tough, somewhat decent, but can be relied on in times of crisis...
to friends,(very few and far between) who can talk about any and everything that bothers them since the sounding board is not judgemental...
to colleagues, who miss the banter and the loud voice when i am on vacation but who can be entrusted with work safely...

in all these myraid me-s, where am i? it is all of these put together, added one layer with the other to make a fat, strong, pig-headed whole, very opinionated, and not very scared about her opinions...

the flop baker

it's winter vacation in schools... trying time for all those who have to leave their children and go to work.
and more trying if the child is home alone...
so Mummy turned a baker in the evening today...
one who hardly cooks (and does not feel sorry for the fact) steps into the kitchen since R wants the cake batter (not the cake, mind you)... she wants to lick the batter from the bowl in which Mummy has made the batter and emptied it in another for it to bake...
there was a time, when in a phase of transition between countries, i was at home (read, not employed) for six whole months... the MOST diificult time of my life... i had sort of decided to find a job where i could dictate timings (fancy me, as usual) so that R could be looked after as well... that story i will tell later...
it is in that fateful six months that i got hooked on to tele, a vice and an opium at one shot... so in addition to all the soaps, i watched the cookery shows too...
so when today's batter turned into a hard lump after mixing four, sugar, essence, baking powder, i ran to the bedroom to locate my yellowish notes... those that i had taken down with my bionic speed while the host almost wound up the show... and found that i had not added butter...
quickly i added that, but some evil eye had cast its spell... so bake i did, but the cake (R and i call it so) turned out totally flat...
but R licked the batter and kissed me with the batter all over her face...
B, am sure, will not even notice the yellowish thing lying on the table...
and for consolation, R wants a bit of that lump for tomorrow's breakfast.
she understands that Mummy is no cook or baker... and has internalised it well. she instead reads the magazines i write for (including the fashion title which she reads cover to cover and is on top of things in that domain)and tells her friends about the issues we try to talk about...
at least, her mind seems to be occupied.
for all my inefficiency with cooking, i try to make it up by the books that i get for R from the library or Virgin Megastore...

On the lap of history...

this is my reaction to our latest vacation. we literally were in the lap of history, with each building, nay each brick in the city of Paris, having some history attached to it.
it is difficult to have savoured the city in just five days... one really needs to be there for five years... only if one can retain her status as a tourist and does not have to get into the fray of earning a living, can one do real justice to the awesome place.
a bird's eye view of the city one gets on top of both the Eiffel Tower (do not bother to go to the topmost level, since with fog, visibility is limited; the second level is good enough) and the Arc de Triomphe. it is from this latter landmark that the fashion capital of the world pans out in 12 different directions, with La Defence and the Louvre equidistant on either side.
for one, the country has and knows how to preserve history. they have kept the memories of its stalwarts (that we laymen from other countries know only as characters popping out of history pages) alive... so Napoleon and his family, De Gaulle and his exploits have been preserved in museums dedicated to them...
when monarchy died out in this advanced nation, palaces fell vacant, but not the memories associated with them... and what better use can a nation do of its old palaces than to convert them into museaums?
so one has the Louvre, a museaum that has the largest art largesse in the world, including the Mona Lisa, the Invalides that has Napolean's tomb on the one hand and his daily budget on the other... such is the detailing that has gone into the thought behind the collection...
why leave out the Siene? a cruise on it takes one from the Sorborne University to the Notre Dam, the Versailles Palace and the French Assembly...
and if history does not interest you and fashion does, go for Paris. the average man and woman in the city looks and carries as much fashion and style that sets the tone and direction of the whole world. so stroll on Champs Elysees and you'll see budding models who may make it to the cover of Vogue some day on the open ramps in the many shops that line this avenue. and believe me, all the images of Hollywood from the late 1960s till this day fall in perspective on the Champs Elysees... each lady/man that you see on the roads remind you of some Western movie or the other... they carry colours, bright and muted; new patterns, loud and understated; new cuts, bold and traditional, with equal elan.
and what about the open romancing? o la la... each couple had their lips locked, be it on the Metro, or the Champs Elysees or lift taking us to the top of Eiffel Tower... inspired by all these lip-locking romantics, B and i, managed to hug a couple of times and requested R to click us... that was very romantic for us and the photographer merely managed the shots, with a lot of unasked questions...
it is all a question of perspective... where the West believes in showing off their love, we feel it is something to be felt...
all in all, nice trip, great weather, good food, smooth wine and memories of a lifetime... while i have put this down here, R is busy her Paris collage and B is humming Champs Elysees... that's his way of compensating himself for not having seen the Lido show...

glycerine soap for winter; normal hard soap for summer

there used to be a clear segregation of the type of soap to be used in winter and summer... look at the hoardings all over, the radio or occasional (then) TV advertisements and all one could fathom was: glycerine soaps are meant for winter and there were a plethora of local names (they were too puny to be called brands) to choose from...
with glycerine soaps piggy backed the skin care lotions: names like Tuhina, Basanta Malati that appealed to the earlier generations and Nivea, Dove to the later ones...

this was the scenario when we were growing up... soaps and skin care products were touted only on the anvil of winter... rest of the year, one could live without any regimen of skin care...
and believe me, we lived this... we became conscious of skin care only when the weather became drier, each year, year after year...
the rest of the sultry, sweaty summer passed without much ado about skin care...

today, when R spends aeons in front of the mirror, applying lotion, all year round, i find it perfectly normal...
but when i look deeper into this, i feel, she is growing in different times, away from family elders... many of my growing up experiences were different from R because we always had invisible power centres outside of the immediate family, constantly interferening in the way we were growing up, giving 'new' (since they did not strike Mom alone) ideas on how growing children need to be controlled. we, as parents, do not give such liberty to anyone to comment on our child's limits and on our parenting lacunae...

this has its merits and shortcomings... she is growing free from interference, but equally she has very few people who know her as a person, even within the wider family... in my natal set up, she is my daughter; in B's family, she is his...

random moments

Eid holidays are on. before every long break, i set out some tasks for myself, not in writing but in the mind. creates less pressure than a written list, possibly.
this time, it was clearing the closets and the enormous book case R has, part of which she has managed to fill with all the rubbish she gets from anywhere and everywhere.

yesterday was closets clearing day... time to chuck out old clothes, none of which are torn or even faded, but those that we have got tired of wearing. time to sort those clothes out in neat packets and old suitcases. while most of these were R's since she has outgrown quite a lot of her clothes which were just dumped into this unused corner, while sorting these out, my mind seemed to get into those moments that went into carefully selecting those frocks, those dungarees, those tights, those Ts... and picturing R in them... when she ran with those, when she smiled in them and when she fell with them on... part of it were also gifts from Mom or B's parents... remembered some of those old moments when the gifts were given to R, nothing rich or ornate, but filled with love for their only grand daughter... incidentally, R does not any girl cousins... on both sides, she just has younger brothers, three naughty ones...
now the challenge is to find out what one can do with these clothes. coming from a country where a many have insufficient clothes, we feel guilty if we have to just junk them out. i would like to give it away to some organisation which looks after kids so that these could be put to good use. does anyone know of any such local organisation?

today was the book cleaning day. first of all, must say R tries to obey me. when i keep telling her that last year's exercise books which have pages left must not be thrown, but used this year for rough work, she has followed the first bit of advice... not thrown them. but has she used them? i don't think.
so what is the use of keeping them? "Will use them some day," was her response... when? when? when?

possessiveness? or mean-ness?

recently, i came across a lady who seemed most graceful in everything she does -- working tirelessly, managing a home with three generations, having a very well-defined identity, great marriage and above all seems happy with herself...
actually, the last is what should have been first since that is, to me, the root of all else she does...
this lady, i shortly discovered is also very generous (i do not have any better word to use here) with her husband...
odd, but true...
she knows of her husband's ex-crush since they were friends before they became serious about each other... what's more, she does not shy away from the fact that the crush caused quite a bit of pain to her now-husband...
honestly, i have not been able to categorise her... is she very smart? realistic? not possessive?
or many others are dumbos? impractical? mean?
many other marriages i know of would have collapsed had the wife/husband known of the husban/wife's ex-crush... here, it is as smooth as butter...
after a lot of analysis, i finally concluded: it takes all kinds to make this world and she is one of the rare kinds. two, it is just a question of attitude and she has loads of it...
keep it up, wifey, though she would, as far as i have known her, would loathe this descriptor...

how do the mornings look?

how does the morning look at your home? how does the morning look at X's home or Y's home?
today, on a lazy winter weekend, while having my date with a steaming cuppa, i was reminded of this eternal query on my mind, aeons back...
i would love the way the morning looked at home with the sun kissing the bed, bathing the balcony with its warmth and creating a feeling of hope and renewal in my mind.
similarly when visiting my Mom's natal home or my paternal grandparents or any aunt, i first thing i would do when i woke up, was to run out and see what the morning was like... how did the trees look? how did the flowers bloom? how long was the shadow of the house? how did the people walking in the sun look? how much sunlight did the rooms have? and all these at later hours too... for the road in the morning looked different from the road at 10 am or 12 noon...
thus, i hated the monsoons, many days of which began with an overcast sky.
but for all my rendevous with the morning, which i never realised then, i understand now that it was possible only because of the habit of early rising that was forced down our gullet. so i had decided that once on my own, i would never wake up early when i am on my own.
but as luck would have it, i entered my professional life in a city that never sleeps... so my morning sojourns continued, but in a different way... i was in a train coming towards VT or Churchgate in Mumbai...
and now it is more of habit... i cannot sleep beyond a particular hour and can neither lie down when awake...
i have come to enjoy the mornings alone, i do not want to talk, i do not want to be distracted from my gaze outside the window where i stare out at the shadows that the buildings opposite my home create, the slow pace of the day (today), given the less number of cars on the road, some curious by-standers...
and let me tell you, i go back home each morning when i am looking out here at the speeding cars in the road outside my window... and one question in my mind is... morning are you the same there as you were 17+ years back?

have you done this?

i have not. but given a chance to re-do what i have done, this i surely would...
well let's have a better bargain... i will do it for our Silver Wedding Anniversary, some 8 years from now and will invite you too...
on a different note, B's colleague and his wifey are all excited about their 25th Wedding Anniversary, they will wed again in the Church where they got married, they will have all nth cousins attend it, and the two MCs will be their son and daughter. while they are full-time planning, Mr A (B's colleague) sends out the e-Card to all in the office.
an hour later, N, a young lady who works in Mr A's team, comes in hurriedly and says, "Happy Birthday, A... and many happy returns."
crest fallen and in no mood to clarify, he sobs his heart out to B, who could not help laughing out loud.
when i heard it at dinner, i almost choked and R, in the midst of a glass of water, spewed it out on the wall.
who said insensitivity is not fun?

our people assessments

we do it all the time, whether we are conscious of it or not... we study people, we look at them intently, we re-look at the interaction we have had, we keep on revisiting the experience and on the basis of all these, we draw an image of the person in question; we also tailor our expectations of people -- how they will behave with us, how they will react in a particular situation, how they will deal with life in general... based on the assessment that we have made...
and many a times, we are correct in the way we have formed our opinion of the world around us. so we feel, life really rocks.
but what we forget to factor in all of these is: the person(s) we have assessed is not a static entity, s/he has a mind that is also working over-time, moulded by all the experiences that s/he is having on a continuous basis. so what we assessed on day x, may not hold true on day y
so some other time, we feel that we have goofed up on our assessments and are shocked by the way people (whom we have formed opinions about) act, react or behave.
the shock, however, comes only in the first instance of the new behaviour pattern... and as we lick the wounds of the shock, mind you, the bugger inside, already starts work in re-sketching the opinion and re-setting the parameters so that we have an easier time dealing with the person in question, the next time on.in the midst of all this, we also need to factor in another variable: while we assess, we are also being continually opined on... and the person's reaction to us, whether pleasing or shocking to us, has also been coloured by the way s/he has assessed us...
so next time you face a jab (silent or vocal), remember to count in all these in your mind...
well, have i told myself all this????????????

Happy Birthday R

it is 13 years for R who was born this day in 1995.
13 years for B and me as parents.
13 years for two families with their first grandchild.
lots of memories, lots of looking back.
but one wish...
May you grow fine, R,
May you hold your head high
May you love others
And allow others to love you.
Mummy