where does one draw the line?

an aunt is suddenly diagnosed with cancer, is operated and is recuperating... Mom is upset and sad... she calls me to inform...
one week after the call and the news, i am not sure how to feel... should i be sad? and unhappy?
yes, one part of my mind is certainly feeling a trifle sad...
trifle??? i can see the grimace on your faces... how can i be so heartless? you must be wondering... but fact is i can never gloss over the past... i can never see a person's present without taking account of the past, of what a person has done and not done (prefix deliberately)...
many tell me, these are not times to remember such things, that one should and must be more forgiving and gentle...
whether i agree or not with their views, it remains a reality that this aunt could never sympathise with others, she was always critical of most and never had time for anyone else but her own ilk...
what's so new in that? there are scores of such men and women, but what i just cannot get over is her heartlessness when some others were in trouble and all she could do was to gloat, have pleasantly unkind words (telling them smug things which a troubled mind does not want to hear in times of distress)...
and many have forgotten about this past...
yet, i am aware that there is one more way of looking at this... if i do not feel soft towards her now, how am i different from her?
my defence is: to a heartless character, be heartless...
rude? yes;
dishonest? NO. and that is me... i would rather be rude than be dishonest.

global meltdown's latest casualty!

this is news, especially in a continent, which, in our view, epitomises desire, in every form.
"This economic tsunami is going to have a negative effect not only in the boardroom but the bedroom," says the article.
if interested, follow the link and feel the pulse...
news can be made with thin air, i thought since there are no comparative figures of pre-meltdown libido levels.

work-life balance and Jack Welch

what kinda silly thing is that? what does a retired CEO of a large US major have to tell us about work-life balance?
NOTHING NEW, but that is exactly the point... Winning is a fabulously written book and let me tell you that i am not a great fan of management literature and do not, on purpose, read books that tend to give only their take on life, work, business and the rest, reason being that i have my own take which, i feel, is fairly rational and workable...
this is what differentiates Jack Welch. while he gives his opinion on things which make and remake global conglomerates and Fortune 500 companies, he does not forget that all of these are made possible by PEOPLE like you and me and led by people like him... he is humble enough to say that he had very ordinary beginnings, like people in middle class America in the 1960s have had, that it was only after having worked his arse off that he landed at the top job, but that did take a toll on his work-life balance... i am back to where i began from...
he says, "There are as many work-life balance equations as there are individuals. But no matter what balance you choose, you'll have to make trade-offs. After all... it is a rare and lucky person who can have it all in life, all at the same time. Usually, that's not the case. Working parents who want to be very involved in their kids' lives, for instance, often have to give up some of their ambition. People who put business success first most likely have to give up some level of intimacy with their kids.
"Work-life balance is a swap -- a deal you've made with yourself about what you keep and what you give up."
need i say more?
read the book... it is meant for anybody who is already somebody, or who dreams to be a somebody some day... it will throw up reality on your face, drawing up from facts of life that could well be yours... that's the beauty.

25 things that will add the peek you can have of me...

this has been doing the rounds in Facebook and some friend had tagged me there, but this is what pushed me to do it... so here i go (this is in no order of importance, or logic, i have put it down as it came to my mind:

1. my passions change and change very fast. but when i am passionate about something, i really am passionate. right now, it is this blog.

2. i assess people from the word go... and reasses them. at no point is my assessment final. but in most cases, i tend to stick on with what i thought of them on day 1 and turns out to be right.

3. if a love a person, i can be forgiving.

4. i love to be alone... this is a passion that has caught on with time and does not seem to be changing. i love being alone at home, on a walk, on a drive... even on a holiday.

5. i rarely miss people. some think of me as cruel, but that is the way i am... in case i want to re-ignite a connection, i will do it.

6. i rarely take advice. when i have an issue, i usually mull it in my mind, be alone more, be more silent... rather than talk it out because i have very very few people i can open my mind to.

7. i love Doha, the city i stay currently... and this is the 5th city i am staying in.

8. i love anonymity. i hate being in a crowd. in the former, i can find my way. in the latter, i get claustrophobic.

9. i am very very opinionated. and rarely change my opinions.

10. i love doing nothing.

11. i love to read, read, read, read...

12. i love to sleep... 16 hours is also fine, followed by 4 hours... there is a quota for everything, you see.

13. i love to sip tea leisurely... good Darjeeling brew, roll it in and then gulp it down.

14. i always have and always will love my Dad the most... yes, i have reassessed him too, but that does not take away his place in my life.

15. i love to watch R sleeping.

16. i would love to s**t everyday, being a patient of spastic colon.

17. i love to write... both paid and here.

18. even if possible, i would not like to re-live my life.

19. if stranded on an island, i would just need a laptop, hopefully it would work.

20. i would like to go as soon as R is on her two feet.

21. i am always in a hurry.

22. i love to drive.

23. given an option, i would love to settle in an European village.

24. i snore.

25. i love to laugh loud... people who do not do that are mentally constipated.

every affection has a name

this is a powerful story, well told, peppered with tender emotions, emotions that bring in a screen of tears to the eye...
it tells the story of three generations... the one past, the one that is today and the one that is tomorrow...
and each one of the readers can identify with the teller, Amir... some of us are the present, have seen our parents and are tending to our children...
it throws up the story of Afganistan, a historical fact of a nation destroyed and another intangible casualty, childhood...
Sohrab is not alone... he has millions to keep him company, but none of whom are any more fortunate for that...
particularly touching is the relationship between the half-uncle and his nephew...
for me Sohrab was a fitting reminder of my own nephew back home...10-year-old A... who only knows his Pishi comes once in more than a year, makes his Thamma happy in her presence and making her cry when she goes off...
and A is more fond of B than me...
he is simplicity personified, in many ways like his Dad... just like Sohrab is like Hassan and Amir recalls the Dad in the son...

selfish mom... contradiction in terms? search within

this article sums up a new dimension in today's parenting...
it talks about HAPPY KIDS and the role of the parents, especially the mother... and one sentence literally spilled a bucket of cold water on my face: quoting a British survey, it says, "the main risk for British children... was that their selfish parents were too busy chasing their own success. The culture of individual fulfilment for adults was making the lot of children much less happy than a generation or two ago.... Odd though it might seem, it had never occured to me that working was selfish. If we work hard, we make money, and because work is stretching and stimulating, which can't be bad. Sneaking off to have a manicure instead of grilling fish fingers is selfish, but toiling over the computer is not."
and as the writer very clearly points out, it is one word that has caused a lot of trouble for a lot of mothers all over... that word is selfish.
we all are selfish as individuals and have rationalised it for ourselves, as partners, as professionals, as children, as friends, as acquaintances... we are selfish as all these... we know it, we have accepted it...
so no pains...
but as mothers, selfish???? not possible, we cry out... i do this for her, i do that for her, i do the other for her...
wrong, all wrong, all false, all lies...
two reasons why: first ask yourself whether all that you and i claim to do for them, is it actually for them?
my take is:we do all of what we do for them, actually for our own selves... all the running around for them is actually for US, not for them.
second, even if we accept that we do tonnes of things for them, how much of it is with them too?...
find that out...
so we are selfish as mothers... but the idea is not to accept that and wallow in self pity for the rest of our lives... the idea is to work around our unique situations... the idea is to strive to be better as mothers, better as friendly mothers...
and again, it will be not for the little ones we have brought in here, it will again be for ourselves...
the idea is to move towards as better as we can get, so that the child opens up to us, without fear, without doubt, without a cloud on her eyes...
and when the child seems like an open book (as the mother, we can see it reflected on the eyes), i guess we have done better than yesterday, but remember, tomorrow is yet another day, and the striving within has to continue...

WHY?

this has kept me thinking and thinking really hard... should i or shouldn't i vent that huge mountain of emotion that i think i have NOW, finally put behind me and moved on, and it took me precisely a decade to do it? should i tell about that day, that one day which, in a swish, just changed my life and forced me to grow up? should i tell you all how hopeless i started feeling? how the smile and laughter just vanished from my life? how i became a new, hardened, realistic, me... the one you see today? ok, let me tell you...
a 31-year-old discovers, to her dismay, she is pregnant again... she is not happy. she has just taken a transfer back to her hometown, with a two+ year child, is staying with her marital family, but the husband is still awaiting a transfer... she is not happy that again she has to wake nights and do all that she has done for her daughter. will she be able to give the kind of attention that she gives the noor of her eyes again? nope...
her mother does not want to give her opinion... but her father is very happy... she will be grand-dad again... he will look after R, he assures his daughter who retorts, "will you wake nights instead of me?" he laughs his assuring laugh... and tries to convince his daughter... but she miscarries... he runs with her to the clinic, does all that have to be done, looks after R with his wife and nurse her back to work... the husband is still in Mumbai, still awaiting his transfer...
he falls sick... high fever, bad cold... "don't worry and don't come since it is contagious... little R will get it."
she who senses trouble visits her parents after work, fetches some milk from the nearby market... he is already feeling better, he says, no fever... that was Friday...
saturday is working... but she calls and checks... he is feeling weak, but ok. she does not go to meet her parents...
sunday morning call from her mother, "can you come right now... Baba is not feeling well... the doc has given new medicines but there is no one to get them."
she runs, leaving R with her MIL...
she goes in and sees that her ever-strong Dad is having breathing difficulty... but she becomes a moron, it does not strike her that he is on the threshold of an attack... or in the process of one...
she fetches the medicines, gives it to him... he sleeps for a while... has early lunch, and sleeps again, this time all three together, she in the middle of her parents, but she does not sleep...
evening, he climbs all the stairs, goes to the terrace and has his tea... the breathing is still heavy and he is sweating... still she does not think it to be an attack...
she fetches R since she will stay the night with Baba and Ma...
her mama, mom's elder brother, comes visiting after two years... they have a grand chat and he leaves around nine...
he is still uneasy, still breathing heavily and sweating...
she runs again and gets an inhaler, after checking with the doctor... who reassures that it is conjection... the heart is fine...
she is asthamtic so teaches her Dad how to inhale... he is hopeless at it... but inhales some of it... takes light dinner and sleeps...
next morning, the clinic guy comes for a blood test... he fasts till 8 and has tea...
he is smiling tired, she thinks...
he goes to the loo, "do not lock the door," she tells him, "i am just here."
he comes out, with a tired look, wears the watch his son gave him on his last birthday, lies down and closes his eyes...
she calls out, one last call, "BABA." he half opens the eyes, grabs her hand and his wife's...
R is behind... she has seen it all... her last memory of her Dadubhai...

how did you start a new life?

read married life...
but the question is how did you start it? rather how luxuriously did you start it?must be wondering why suddenly this question?
because we were jabbering at work (what's new?) and guess what that was on?
it was on wedding customs and traditions... some of the young guys at office (they are from Egypt) who are just married or engaged to be married, said they have bought apartments in Cairo, are paying the loan but are staying here with their newly wed wife...
they mentioned that an apartment precedes marriage... i would have loved to be born in Egypt in my next life... how cool would that be!!
they asked us what the scenario was like in our native place.
we, in chorus, said, "we get married at our parents'and go to live with our marital family."
they dropped half dead... but rationalised soon after that since it was tradition for us, we did not really think it was something unusual...
i too got married, lived with my marital family for 10 days and moved to Mumbai where my husband was posted at the time...
he had rented a one-bedroom hall, kitchen, one loo flat and all the furniture that could have been bought was: one double bed, one gas stove, one folding table, two folding chairs and two garden chairs (to suffice in the hall)...
and i thought, he had given me the best HOME possible...
yes, we struggled hard to make that flat comfortable and now, after 18 years and 12 other homes that we have lived in, still pine for those days, when all we wanted was to be with each other...
an apartment came much later... now we have two, but that first home still has a special place in our lives.

dollops of destiny

a master story-teller, a fascinating account of the lives of the people that are part of the canvas of Rohinton Mistry...
what makes this book partcularly unputdownable is the reality of the characters... Dina, Nusswan, Ruby, Maneck, Om, Ishvar, Rajaram, Beggarmaster, Ibrahim, Shankar, Aban, Farokh, Mrs Grewal... all are some or the other person whom we have encountered in our lives... they are all living somewhere in our minds and Mistry just tickles that imagination to make them come alive, go through what they do, shaping their attitudes every single day in neat strokes, almost like that of a painter...
while the 614 pages of the book flies past, what i could not, despite my best efforts, agree on was the climax... while taming of Dina from an independent self to accepting the inevitable dominance of Nusswan is acceptable, why did Ishvar and Om have to end up as beggars? and why did Maneck have to do what he did? was it an attempt on Mistry's part to tell us that idealistic souls just end as Maneck has? that all people just do not accept destiny... i am at a loss to understand whether he killed hope for his readers or made them more realistic...
but read the book you must... for its style, for the weave, for the language, for the intricacies and nuances of how people change and rationalise that change... that is, in essence, the fine balance... possibly it is because Maneck could not rationalise Om and Ishvar's beggarhood or the fatal finish of Avinash and his sisters that prompted him to do what he did... i am mulling this question in my mind as i go about my day, with a faint ache... and am loving it...
once you have read the book, tell me whether you agreed the way the characters matured and eventually ended.