today she turned 70... and when i called early morning over a cup of steaming tea, her landline was busy. guess who called? my Dad's brother with whose family and another aunt (again my Dad's sister) she is going for her next holiday to the Andamans, end of the year.
she takes two holidays a year, mostly with a new-found group of friends... and this is what i have forced her to do. she had always been fond of travelling, but was married to someone who, leaving aside his Civil Service postings, did not derive any joy out of travel. so the latent desire to see places was always there inside. so this time, it is with her extended family, all from her late husband's family.
and this is what i find very intriguing. Ma was 21 when she got married in 1960. and i, the elder of her two children, came in seven years later. possibly because of that or possibly because of the fact that she always had one or the other of her brother(s)/sister(s) in law staying in with her, she has an indescribable closeness with them and this despite that Dad has passed away 11 years back. there is reciprocity, to begin with. all my uncles and aunts make the effort to keep connected with Ma, less now by dropping in, but regularly on phone. they do not miss her birthday, or to visit an ailing elder brother of their Boudi (Bengali for bhabi, or elder sister in law). they consult her on all their problems or make it point to share their joy with her, whether it is a child doing well or the arrival of a new grandchild.
on her part, Ma too calls them, is present on any occasions at their places and keeps up with their children's lives too. so when bro or i show unwillingness to participate with her in her "connection spree", she is visibly upset. and all this while she clearly knows that neither of us are really social in the way she is. we would rather be home, jabbering amongst ourselves along with our spouses. but she has her way in a uncanny way... since we still do not speak up to her, though we do show our reservations towards the gentle nudge that she keeps giving, suggesting a desired course of action.
and today when i said, "Healthy Birthday, Ma," she said, "Thank you and this is exactly what S (the uncle she was talking to) was saying just now... afterall, they are your folks, so you think alike." just her way of suggesting that it is about time i call them and talk...
this hint i will not take, Ma... i leave the connection bit to you...
Dec 13, 2009
Nov 25, 2009
Happy 14th Birthday
Dear R,
Today is your 14th birthday. I have been reliving this entire week in my mind... what i did, when, how, with whom, who said what, why, what were my reactions and so on... it is a long long list... and you were still inside me and every minute I was saying to you, "Do you hear that, little girl?"(no we had not tested to know the sex of our child, but I was convinced that you would be you, a girl).
To cut it short, have a healthy, satisfying and happy life ahead. Try to make others happy... that is not the priority for many of us, but you should keep that in mind because when others are happy, so are you. This is something I see very strongly in your Dad. He tries his best to make others happy... and deep down somewhere, there is a slight pain, since your Dadubhai (my Dad) had the same streak. Possibly, unconsciously we girls look out for something of our Dads in our partners... hopefully you will do the same when your day and time comes.
We have tried to give you a very simple life, without much frills. It has been a life of constant movement, across cities, countries, jobs, and in the process we have tried to attend to you, to the best of our abilities. Yes, we have left you with the baby-sitter when you were barely 9 months old. And that did send guilt pangs deep down inside me, but you possibly understood that I needed the job at that point and you stood beside us very well. In fact, had you not, I would have had to quit my job and take care of you. That was Mumbai. Down to Kolkata too, you had an adjusting phase with successive nannies, despite the fact that for a period, we did stay with your grand-parents. And adjust you did. Come Delhi and the same story continued. It was only beginning our stay at Muscat that you started staying alone while I was at work and it is only now that I do not feel daunted by your vacations any more, knowing well that you and I will manage together and manage well.
I do not know how you will turn out as an adult. The only thing I will ask of you is responsibility. You need to be able to take responsibility for your actions, your words and stand by what you feel and do. Never be afraid of taking a stand, even if it means you are against the others. If deep within, you feel you are right, you are. Go by that.
We have tried to give you some basic values, since we have lived by them. You have seen our lives, rather openly and know what we have stood for. Nothing high falutin, but values that should help you lead your life on a straight path. Ideally, we would want you to live by the values we have given you, but beyond a point, rest assured, we will not pry to check what you are doing, though if ever I see that you cannot look eye to eye with your Mummy, I would deduce that you have goofed up somewhere. Never allow that to happen.
We value privacy very highly. But privacy should always come with a sense of responsibility. Keep that in mind.
You do not have to be the first student of your grade. You just have to do your best, in whatever you do. Thus, even for your dance rehersals, I was being very particular about the timings. You need to realise the value of time and commitments that you make.
Even if I sould like having given a lecture, bear with me. These are things which I have to tell you while you are growing. They may become redundant once you are fully grown.
Yes, I need to tell you this too... I LOVE YOU A LOT.
Mummy
Today is your 14th birthday. I have been reliving this entire week in my mind... what i did, when, how, with whom, who said what, why, what were my reactions and so on... it is a long long list... and you were still inside me and every minute I was saying to you, "Do you hear that, little girl?"(no we had not tested to know the sex of our child, but I was convinced that you would be you, a girl).
To cut it short, have a healthy, satisfying and happy life ahead. Try to make others happy... that is not the priority for many of us, but you should keep that in mind because when others are happy, so are you. This is something I see very strongly in your Dad. He tries his best to make others happy... and deep down somewhere, there is a slight pain, since your Dadubhai (my Dad) had the same streak. Possibly, unconsciously we girls look out for something of our Dads in our partners... hopefully you will do the same when your day and time comes.
We have tried to give you a very simple life, without much frills. It has been a life of constant movement, across cities, countries, jobs, and in the process we have tried to attend to you, to the best of our abilities. Yes, we have left you with the baby-sitter when you were barely 9 months old. And that did send guilt pangs deep down inside me, but you possibly understood that I needed the job at that point and you stood beside us very well. In fact, had you not, I would have had to quit my job and take care of you. That was Mumbai. Down to Kolkata too, you had an adjusting phase with successive nannies, despite the fact that for a period, we did stay with your grand-parents. And adjust you did. Come Delhi and the same story continued. It was only beginning our stay at Muscat that you started staying alone while I was at work and it is only now that I do not feel daunted by your vacations any more, knowing well that you and I will manage together and manage well.
I do not know how you will turn out as an adult. The only thing I will ask of you is responsibility. You need to be able to take responsibility for your actions, your words and stand by what you feel and do. Never be afraid of taking a stand, even if it means you are against the others. If deep within, you feel you are right, you are. Go by that.
We have tried to give you some basic values, since we have lived by them. You have seen our lives, rather openly and know what we have stood for. Nothing high falutin, but values that should help you lead your life on a straight path. Ideally, we would want you to live by the values we have given you, but beyond a point, rest assured, we will not pry to check what you are doing, though if ever I see that you cannot look eye to eye with your Mummy, I would deduce that you have goofed up somewhere. Never allow that to happen.
We value privacy very highly. But privacy should always come with a sense of responsibility. Keep that in mind.
You do not have to be the first student of your grade. You just have to do your best, in whatever you do. Thus, even for your dance rehersals, I was being very particular about the timings. You need to realise the value of time and commitments that you make.
Even if I sould like having given a lecture, bear with me. These are things which I have to tell you while you are growing. They may become redundant once you are fully grown.
Yes, I need to tell you this too... I LOVE YOU A LOT.
Mummy
Nov 22, 2009
she does not have to be a dancer
is what i think, but not B of R and that was the provocation for the last fight that we had... nothing new, we keep having it every now and then, especially weekends.
of late, R has started taking interest in extra-curricular activites. when she was tiny, i did try to get her into music (which did not interest her) and later, into violin. she was not interested by this either... i quit thinking that she is another lazy lady like her mother, but when she actively took interest in public speaking, we enrolled her into Gavel's Club (the junior wing of Toastmasters)... i was not surpised by this. someone who reads and reads should be able to speak well as well.
what did surprise me was the latest interest -- dance. so in the latest Bengali Parishad function, she herself went and got her name in for the forthcoming dance recital, coming Friday. so for the past three weekends, life has revolved around dropping and picking her up from her dance rehersals. this week, it has and is going to be extra hectic because of in-between week practice sessions.
last weekend when we had dropped her and were leaving, the lady who is guiding the practice, came up to us and said, "your daughter is not able to pick up the steps well, despite my showing it to her. since this is an important function and will be telecast on Star Ananda, i will see how she does today and then decide whether she will participate or not," all this while i knew that the tailor had been called to take the costume measurements.
i told the lady, "she has never danced on stage. so if she is stiff, she has to put in more practice now... see how she is today..." while B maintained a stony silence and an equally stony face, with the jaws hardening. my heart broke and i kept remembering R's anxious face as she was dancing.
"Not enough said or protested, because she did not tell this to us earlier. on the penultimate day, how can she say this. i am going to pick her up right now and register my protest that this is an unprofessional way of doing things, that there should have been an audition and elimination," B stormed at me.
we left from there, went to pick up a gift for a birthday party that evening and were constantly arguing over why i did not tell the lady what B felt. in fact, B's colleague who saw us at the store said later, "K (his wife) and i did not call you because you were so engrossed in talking (read fighting)."
B kept calling R and she kept saying she is practising. then B mentioned, "the lady said you could be out if you do not do well, and you still want to do?" R replied, "yes, i will." we wre not sure whther she knew she could be dropped.
we went back to pick her up and on the way, i said, "dancing is no priority, if she is out, she is." "NO, there has to be a method and though we know R is not a trained dancer, it is her participation that counts. i will talk to the lady but you will not only be with me, you will say exactly what should be said," B was forceful and this was the parent in him talking, not my partner, i realised.
i followed him in (for a change) and saw the girls practising engrossed. B walked in straight and i told the lady, "in case you are dropping her, do that today, now. and imagine what will go on in the child's mind to know that she is being dropped now."
"she is doing much better than she was and with practice in front of the mirror, she will know exactly where to improve." she did not sound unprofessional in the least.
so little miss R is dancing all day in front of the mirror, but i keep having a nagging doubt in my mind: am i ok as a parent? or do i need to be more socially protective of her? with my poor social skills, possibly R misses out on these small things which will make her happier.... so here i am running around in the evenings, picking up and dropping children for unofficial practice sessions at my place and at others'... this has made me wonder how vulnerable are we as parents and how little things matter when it comes to the child.
Wish R luck for her performance...
of late, R has started taking interest in extra-curricular activites. when she was tiny, i did try to get her into music (which did not interest her) and later, into violin. she was not interested by this either... i quit thinking that she is another lazy lady like her mother, but when she actively took interest in public speaking, we enrolled her into Gavel's Club (the junior wing of Toastmasters)... i was not surpised by this. someone who reads and reads should be able to speak well as well.
what did surprise me was the latest interest -- dance. so in the latest Bengali Parishad function, she herself went and got her name in for the forthcoming dance recital, coming Friday. so for the past three weekends, life has revolved around dropping and picking her up from her dance rehersals. this week, it has and is going to be extra hectic because of in-between week practice sessions.
last weekend when we had dropped her and were leaving, the lady who is guiding the practice, came up to us and said, "your daughter is not able to pick up the steps well, despite my showing it to her. since this is an important function and will be telecast on Star Ananda, i will see how she does today and then decide whether she will participate or not," all this while i knew that the tailor had been called to take the costume measurements.
i told the lady, "she has never danced on stage. so if she is stiff, she has to put in more practice now... see how she is today..." while B maintained a stony silence and an equally stony face, with the jaws hardening. my heart broke and i kept remembering R's anxious face as she was dancing.
"Not enough said or protested, because she did not tell this to us earlier. on the penultimate day, how can she say this. i am going to pick her up right now and register my protest that this is an unprofessional way of doing things, that there should have been an audition and elimination," B stormed at me.
we left from there, went to pick up a gift for a birthday party that evening and were constantly arguing over why i did not tell the lady what B felt. in fact, B's colleague who saw us at the store said later, "K (his wife) and i did not call you because you were so engrossed in talking (read fighting)."
B kept calling R and she kept saying she is practising. then B mentioned, "the lady said you could be out if you do not do well, and you still want to do?" R replied, "yes, i will." we wre not sure whther she knew she could be dropped.
we went back to pick her up and on the way, i said, "dancing is no priority, if she is out, she is." "NO, there has to be a method and though we know R is not a trained dancer, it is her participation that counts. i will talk to the lady but you will not only be with me, you will say exactly what should be said," B was forceful and this was the parent in him talking, not my partner, i realised.
i followed him in (for a change) and saw the girls practising engrossed. B walked in straight and i told the lady, "in case you are dropping her, do that today, now. and imagine what will go on in the child's mind to know that she is being dropped now."
"she is doing much better than she was and with practice in front of the mirror, she will know exactly where to improve." she did not sound unprofessional in the least.
so little miss R is dancing all day in front of the mirror, but i keep having a nagging doubt in my mind: am i ok as a parent? or do i need to be more socially protective of her? with my poor social skills, possibly R misses out on these small things which will make her happier.... so here i am running around in the evenings, picking up and dropping children for unofficial practice sessions at my place and at others'... this has made me wonder how vulnerable are we as parents and how little things matter when it comes to the child.
Wish R luck for her performance...
Nov 8, 2009
why are so many marriages going wrong?
this is something i wonder way too often... the number of dysfunctional families have just leap-frogged, marriages are going wrong left, right and centre.
over the years, in all of my working life, i have had friends who may have been colleagues to start with, but became really good friends, later on, either as we have moved out of the city, moved jobs or just moved on. and while B used to joke saying, "you have so many divorced friends", i never took it seriously, though i did have friends who were women and men, but a lot many were single, post marriage.
and let me tell you, almost none of my these single friends were very modern... the reason why i am saying this is: many a times, we tend to equate being forward in life comes with being modern. a couple of my friends, in fact, two to be precise, one man and the other a lady, came from very ordinary, middle-class homes. the lady went through a messy divorce in her 50s. was she dumb? no, she wasn't... she just thought things would get better, waited for the child to settle a little and moved out to eke out her own life at 45+. she now has a grandchild, ex-husband has re-married, but she is single, whether happily so, i do not know.
the other friend, the man, allowed his ex-wife to walk out on him, gave the divorce, was single for a time and has now settled into not-so-happy a marriage, but has become wiser as his words seem to suggest, "i have learnt to live with what i cannot change."
there have been others who have, i mean still have, not really great marriages, but have withstood the social pressures of making it work -- parents, children, this, that and the other -- and have just continued being as social entities, though hardly as partners. and i mean by partners, people who bond, who have opinions of their own, air those opinions but have learnt to respect each other (and the stands they take as individuals). that is the ideal situation which should prevail in this life-long relationship... in fact, we spend more time with our respective spouse than any other human being -- parents, siblings or children. each of these stay with us for a period and recedes to the background when another comes in...
what i have felt clearly over these years is: the crux to making a marriage tick is a fair dose of self respect and mutual respect. if these two are there, most partnerships last and happily so...
i feel sad for many people i know who are going through a messy life just because they have to... at the end of a harrowing experience, i have seen their faces change... they wear a weathered expression, with a smile that has lost the vibrancy. and it is then that i realise that many of us who have not the greatest marriage on Earth, but at least one which gives us enough air to breathe, have opinions, air them with little doubt and move on, without too much baggage, are indeed lucky.
over the years, in all of my working life, i have had friends who may have been colleagues to start with, but became really good friends, later on, either as we have moved out of the city, moved jobs or just moved on. and while B used to joke saying, "you have so many divorced friends", i never took it seriously, though i did have friends who were women and men, but a lot many were single, post marriage.
and let me tell you, almost none of my these single friends were very modern... the reason why i am saying this is: many a times, we tend to equate being forward in life comes with being modern. a couple of my friends, in fact, two to be precise, one man and the other a lady, came from very ordinary, middle-class homes. the lady went through a messy divorce in her 50s. was she dumb? no, she wasn't... she just thought things would get better, waited for the child to settle a little and moved out to eke out her own life at 45+. she now has a grandchild, ex-husband has re-married, but she is single, whether happily so, i do not know.
the other friend, the man, allowed his ex-wife to walk out on him, gave the divorce, was single for a time and has now settled into not-so-happy a marriage, but has become wiser as his words seem to suggest, "i have learnt to live with what i cannot change."
there have been others who have, i mean still have, not really great marriages, but have withstood the social pressures of making it work -- parents, children, this, that and the other -- and have just continued being as social entities, though hardly as partners. and i mean by partners, people who bond, who have opinions of their own, air those opinions but have learnt to respect each other (and the stands they take as individuals). that is the ideal situation which should prevail in this life-long relationship... in fact, we spend more time with our respective spouse than any other human being -- parents, siblings or children. each of these stay with us for a period and recedes to the background when another comes in...
what i have felt clearly over these years is: the crux to making a marriage tick is a fair dose of self respect and mutual respect. if these two are there, most partnerships last and happily so...
i feel sad for many people i know who are going through a messy life just because they have to... at the end of a harrowing experience, i have seen their faces change... they wear a weathered expression, with a smile that has lost the vibrancy. and it is then that i realise that many of us who have not the greatest marriage on Earth, but at least one which gives us enough air to breathe, have opinions, air them with little doubt and move on, without too much baggage, are indeed lucky.
Nov 1, 2009
letter from a daughter to her father...
May 2008 is when i had written the letter below and today when i received a similar letter from a friend to her father, i thought, i could share this with you... in that other letter, it is a similar tale of growing up, of growing away from where she began, the path she has traversed and how insecure she is without her dad... and this post is dedicated to that friend of mine...
Dear Dad,
Ten years on, rather six months less than ten years, I am writing again. Looking through those earlier writings, I decided it is time I wrote again, just to tell you how far I have been able to follow what you had told me way back in 1980… “be guided by your head, not heart.” What you did not tell me -- possibly left it unsaid for me to learn myself, was the tool I had to apply, the method I had to adopt, to get on with this business of living and life – detachment.
Today, at 42, I would not say, I know how perfectly to negotiate life. It seems too tall a claim. But I certainly can tell you that I have become more seasoned, more mature, and more confident, more focused, less clumsy, less emotional. I am able to decide with firmness. I rarely break down if at all. I rarely feel that lump inside the throat, or those burning eyes, trying to fight back tears when things go wrong.
And things do go wrong even now – at home, at work, with my child, sometimes with friends and even my spouse. But I have learnt to deal, tackle, manage and move on, putting those instances aside, not letting them interfere with the process of everyday life. Yes, what I do very often, and here again, in my mind, it is one image of yours that keeps popping up… your pacing up and down at home, with a heavy look on your face. What I do is also similar… nope, I do not pace up and down, with a heavy face, you know I am lazy… but while I am alone (and very often I am, while I drive back and forth the whole city for work, for running domestic errands or for dropping the child to her classes), I am in constant dialogue with myself… the mind races with those things that went wrong, going over and over again at the particular instance that is troubling me, trying to assess what was my responsibility in the whole affair. And, when the heaviness in the heart ceases, I know I have addressed the issue, dealt with it. Not a soul comes to know how, but I know I have and it gives a great feeling within that I have succeeded once again. Should I call it independence? I do not know but one thing I certainly know, I will tell my daughter how to try living from the day go. In fact, this is one thing I told you then too… that I would rear her well. She is grown now, does most of her things by herself – but I still have to tell her about the art of detachment. I will not leave her to discover it herself – while that discovery might give her an edge, it certainly will corrode the freshness of her face, the lilt in her smile and the look of her eyes.
Yes, all of these are no longer there in me…while I am more at ease with life in general, there is no freshness in the face, no lilt in my smile and no innocence in the eyes. I have come of age. And that I hope to fight in my child.
I can almost see you smile…and I know the reason. You are trying to ask me: How will so attached a mother teach her daughter detachment? But as I said, I am more prepared now… ten years back, I would have been stumped with this question, leaving you to laugh condescendingly at my inexperience… but not any more… I am armed with a logic now: I will at least tell her, it is up to her to understand, learn and practise it in life.
Let’s agree to differ if the logic does not appeal to you. But at least I have told you what it is that you did not tell me, while holding my hand and teaching me how to walk, you left unsaid that the road of life is so difficult, and more so, without a loving hand.
And here, I better be honest -- I still remain that child of yours who is, by now, struggling to fight back tears since it is only a Dad who would listen to so much of complaints after so many years.
***
Dear Dad,
Ten years on, rather six months less than ten years, I am writing again. Looking through those earlier writings, I decided it is time I wrote again, just to tell you how far I have been able to follow what you had told me way back in 1980… “be guided by your head, not heart.” What you did not tell me -- possibly left it unsaid for me to learn myself, was the tool I had to apply, the method I had to adopt, to get on with this business of living and life – detachment.
Today, at 42, I would not say, I know how perfectly to negotiate life. It seems too tall a claim. But I certainly can tell you that I have become more seasoned, more mature, and more confident, more focused, less clumsy, less emotional. I am able to decide with firmness. I rarely break down if at all. I rarely feel that lump inside the throat, or those burning eyes, trying to fight back tears when things go wrong.
And things do go wrong even now – at home, at work, with my child, sometimes with friends and even my spouse. But I have learnt to deal, tackle, manage and move on, putting those instances aside, not letting them interfere with the process of everyday life. Yes, what I do very often, and here again, in my mind, it is one image of yours that keeps popping up… your pacing up and down at home, with a heavy look on your face. What I do is also similar… nope, I do not pace up and down, with a heavy face, you know I am lazy… but while I am alone (and very often I am, while I drive back and forth the whole city for work, for running domestic errands or for dropping the child to her classes), I am in constant dialogue with myself… the mind races with those things that went wrong, going over and over again at the particular instance that is troubling me, trying to assess what was my responsibility in the whole affair. And, when the heaviness in the heart ceases, I know I have addressed the issue, dealt with it. Not a soul comes to know how, but I know I have and it gives a great feeling within that I have succeeded once again. Should I call it independence? I do not know but one thing I certainly know, I will tell my daughter how to try living from the day go. In fact, this is one thing I told you then too… that I would rear her well. She is grown now, does most of her things by herself – but I still have to tell her about the art of detachment. I will not leave her to discover it herself – while that discovery might give her an edge, it certainly will corrode the freshness of her face, the lilt in her smile and the look of her eyes.
Yes, all of these are no longer there in me…while I am more at ease with life in general, there is no freshness in the face, no lilt in my smile and no innocence in the eyes. I have come of age. And that I hope to fight in my child.
I can almost see you smile…and I know the reason. You are trying to ask me: How will so attached a mother teach her daughter detachment? But as I said, I am more prepared now… ten years back, I would have been stumped with this question, leaving you to laugh condescendingly at my inexperience… but not any more… I am armed with a logic now: I will at least tell her, it is up to her to understand, learn and practise it in life.
Let’s agree to differ if the logic does not appeal to you. But at least I have told you what it is that you did not tell me, while holding my hand and teaching me how to walk, you left unsaid that the road of life is so difficult, and more so, without a loving hand.
And here, I better be honest -- I still remain that child of yours who is, by now, struggling to fight back tears since it is only a Dad who would listen to so much of complaints after so many years.
***
Oct 25, 2009
teaching 'life' in 5 minutes flat
what a contradiction in terms... can anyone teach about life? or is it life that goes about, in its own inimitable way, teaching one and all?
both, i feel are true... yes, life is the best teacher, but i saw no harm in teaching a little wisdom to my little girl (actually not so little any more) when she came back from school in tears.
my first response was: are you ok?
she said, with a sulk, "yes i am ok and not ok."
me: why? what happened?
she: "the teachers have selected students for public speaking and as comperes fortheAnnual Day and they have selected all their pets."
Gosh, there are too many issues and i just have 5 flat minutes to address all of them, lest i be late for my post-lunch meeting.
almost thinking on my feet, i told her: "are you happy with what you have done, as in the speech that you had prepared for the audition?", half-knowing the answer that she would give me, since i had heard her rehearse and had suggested some changes in her delivery mode and expressions.
she said: "yes, Ma, i am happy with what i had prepared and had taken care to do all that you had told me. and i am sure that my speech was way better than the rest of the guys and gals. but they are the pets and i am not...", her throat wavered a little, in anger partly, in pain, partly at not being selected.
now the number of issues had not reduced though two minutes of my balance time had, but one thing i was sure of -- she was confident of herself.
i said: "if you are happy with what you have done, don't bother about the end result. that is not the result of your credit/discredit. there will be many such other instances in life when you will feel that you were better, but somebody else made it. the way out is to try to do even better, next time on. your feeling may be partly true; it could also be the result of a preconceived notion that you have about the selectors."
her face showed a couple of expressions, one after the other. first, she did not get my message about not bothering about the end result... and i do not blame her since she is not yet 14. but i purposely gave her this to mull over. second, that others may not be as good but will still make it... she partly got, must be through her tiny experience in life. she disagreed with the third, to do better next time on, saying, "there is no use in doing better next time... i would rather opt for dance where the selection is easier." this was a new issue hurled at me, that of changing track midway, giving up and not doing her best... but i decided to let go of it for the time being, though i will not let go of her in case she does not give me a convincing enough logic to opt for dance or mimicry (whatever it is), next time on. the fourth message, she partly got about preconceived notion, i could make out from her eyes...opinionated child, a genetic trait she has got...
my five minutes were up and i had to go, and when i left her, i heard sobs from her room... i dragged myself out, pretending not have heard the sobs, not because i was getting late, but because she has to learn to cope with life and such failures alone. time will come when we will not be around to hug and kiss her pain away...
let me be confident that she can, though i can hold her hand, if need be...
both, i feel are true... yes, life is the best teacher, but i saw no harm in teaching a little wisdom to my little girl (actually not so little any more) when she came back from school in tears.
my first response was: are you ok?
she said, with a sulk, "yes i am ok and not ok."
me: why? what happened?
she: "the teachers have selected students for public speaking and as comperes fortheAnnual Day and they have selected all their pets."
Gosh, there are too many issues and i just have 5 flat minutes to address all of them, lest i be late for my post-lunch meeting.
almost thinking on my feet, i told her: "are you happy with what you have done, as in the speech that you had prepared for the audition?", half-knowing the answer that she would give me, since i had heard her rehearse and had suggested some changes in her delivery mode and expressions.
she said: "yes, Ma, i am happy with what i had prepared and had taken care to do all that you had told me. and i am sure that my speech was way better than the rest of the guys and gals. but they are the pets and i am not...", her throat wavered a little, in anger partly, in pain, partly at not being selected.
now the number of issues had not reduced though two minutes of my balance time had, but one thing i was sure of -- she was confident of herself.
i said: "if you are happy with what you have done, don't bother about the end result. that is not the result of your credit/discredit. there will be many such other instances in life when you will feel that you were better, but somebody else made it. the way out is to try to do even better, next time on. your feeling may be partly true; it could also be the result of a preconceived notion that you have about the selectors."
her face showed a couple of expressions, one after the other. first, she did not get my message about not bothering about the end result... and i do not blame her since she is not yet 14. but i purposely gave her this to mull over. second, that others may not be as good but will still make it... she partly got, must be through her tiny experience in life. she disagreed with the third, to do better next time on, saying, "there is no use in doing better next time... i would rather opt for dance where the selection is easier." this was a new issue hurled at me, that of changing track midway, giving up and not doing her best... but i decided to let go of it for the time being, though i will not let go of her in case she does not give me a convincing enough logic to opt for dance or mimicry (whatever it is), next time on. the fourth message, she partly got about preconceived notion, i could make out from her eyes...opinionated child, a genetic trait she has got...
my five minutes were up and i had to go, and when i left her, i heard sobs from her room... i dragged myself out, pretending not have heard the sobs, not because i was getting late, but because she has to learn to cope with life and such failures alone. time will come when we will not be around to hug and kiss her pain away...
let me be confident that she can, though i can hold her hand, if need be...
Oct 20, 2009
is there motivation tonic?
if there is, i need a tub of it... right now, here.
of late, i have just been feeling tired, for no rhyme or reason. when the alarm rings in the morning, i feel like sleeping... and i cannot, because R has to be sent to school... it is not as if B will not send her to school but he will not do it my way... i like to be around when she leaves home and we steal a stare, me at the door, she inside the lift. if the going is really good, she even throws in a kiss as the lift door closes... i cannot miss all this and be in bed, trying to sleep.
i am a very morning person. i like the mornings quiet and alone sipping my hot cup of tea, watching over R's paltry breakfast of a bowl of cereal, with BBC World for background music.
i try to retire early at night so that i get adequate rest, even if sleep eludes me... and i have my books for company. none of this seems to be working and the mornings are bad...
and for me, if the start is not good, the whole day seems a bit of a slow-down... if i sleep till late, i have to skip a bath and a little session of meditation in the morning, which means i am not fresh and that drags on the whole day...
i just need to pull myself to be out of this... i hate this lazy feeling, i hate to be slow...
of late, i have just been feeling tired, for no rhyme or reason. when the alarm rings in the morning, i feel like sleeping... and i cannot, because R has to be sent to school... it is not as if B will not send her to school but he will not do it my way... i like to be around when she leaves home and we steal a stare, me at the door, she inside the lift. if the going is really good, she even throws in a kiss as the lift door closes... i cannot miss all this and be in bed, trying to sleep.
i am a very morning person. i like the mornings quiet and alone sipping my hot cup of tea, watching over R's paltry breakfast of a bowl of cereal, with BBC World for background music.
i try to retire early at night so that i get adequate rest, even if sleep eludes me... and i have my books for company. none of this seems to be working and the mornings are bad...
and for me, if the start is not good, the whole day seems a bit of a slow-down... if i sleep till late, i have to skip a bath and a little session of meditation in the morning, which means i am not fresh and that drags on the whole day...
i just need to pull myself to be out of this... i hate this lazy feeling, i hate to be slow...
Oct 16, 2009
Dear Bablu Dadu*1,
i write this letter as i sob, silently, alone, knowing fully well that this will not reach you. but i also know you will understand perfectly why i am still writing this to you when you are no more.
i got the news of your death two days back and since then i have been sad, really sad. now of course, i have learnt to deal with this strange phenomenon called death. i do no longer crumble on the outside, though there is a deep agony inside. but this will pass and i will get back to being my boisterous self, once again. i can see you giggle, with that characteristic twinkle in your eye and that naughty wave passing all over you.
you were not strictly even related to me or my family. you were Mashi's*2 father-in-law's cousin. it is strange that we got to know you... but had Mesho*3 not passed away, we would not have...
i can distinctly recall the first day i met you at the Kasba house where Mashi was staying with her daughters, sometime in 1983-84 and you had come to take us for a recital of Rabindrasangeet by Sumitra Sen. it was raining cats and dogs. the second meeting, same place, this time it was Jaws II.
thereafter you started coming home, often, but not regularly, mostly in the evenings, after work. you spoke little, sipped a cuppa, had a snack if offered and left silently. Dad liked you and often teased you to get married. and sure enough you did... around 1988-89. Ma and i had gone for your wedding reception. you looked happy, so did your bride.
years passed, i got married but you stayed in touch with my natal home... you kept visiting and each time, i visited, we would meet... you would make the effort to come and meet us, sometimes even late in the evenings. you had a son, he had an accident, at a marriage party, recovered... got into school, grew up, passed his 10th boards...
i kept up with your life as you did... you soothed my pain after Dad's demise, you constantly kept coming home, now my home. B liked you and understood the friendship we had. we shared a lot of time talking and in that, i was pained to learn that your wife and son did not really love you... i am busy with the lump in my throat now... and you are again smiling, i can see that...
you had retired from your job by now, but took up another... not so much for money but to get out of home every morning and as an excuse to return late at night, grab a bite and fall off to sleep. i recall your pain when i told you that i was deeply addicted to sleeping pills. you even threatened to blow the whistle and let B know if i did not stop...
i am out of my addiction. i am happy once again, having gone through a rough patch... and we met again this time when i went on vacation... you seemed ok, i could not prod you beyond the apparent, since everyone was around. you did promise to come back on the last day, but called to say you could not and said, "i am not feeling well."
how would i gauge that i had to blow the whistle to your wife? how would i know that your time was up?
on second thoughts, i have done some soul searching and come up with a logic for not calling in your wife... you had lost all will to live...
as a friend, i understood that, in my sub-conscious mind... and have accepted the fact that i did what i did, by design.
i again can see that grin of yours... a loving one this time, for your friend and sister, as you called me... and now the tears will not allow me to carry on.
S, the name you knew me in...
*1 Bablu -- a common name in our part of India; Dadu -- grandfather.
*2 Mashi -- Ma's sister
*3 Mesho -- Mashi's husband.
i got the news of your death two days back and since then i have been sad, really sad. now of course, i have learnt to deal with this strange phenomenon called death. i do no longer crumble on the outside, though there is a deep agony inside. but this will pass and i will get back to being my boisterous self, once again. i can see you giggle, with that characteristic twinkle in your eye and that naughty wave passing all over you.
you were not strictly even related to me or my family. you were Mashi's*2 father-in-law's cousin. it is strange that we got to know you... but had Mesho*3 not passed away, we would not have...
i can distinctly recall the first day i met you at the Kasba house where Mashi was staying with her daughters, sometime in 1983-84 and you had come to take us for a recital of Rabindrasangeet by Sumitra Sen. it was raining cats and dogs. the second meeting, same place, this time it was Jaws II.
thereafter you started coming home, often, but not regularly, mostly in the evenings, after work. you spoke little, sipped a cuppa, had a snack if offered and left silently. Dad liked you and often teased you to get married. and sure enough you did... around 1988-89. Ma and i had gone for your wedding reception. you looked happy, so did your bride.
years passed, i got married but you stayed in touch with my natal home... you kept visiting and each time, i visited, we would meet... you would make the effort to come and meet us, sometimes even late in the evenings. you had a son, he had an accident, at a marriage party, recovered... got into school, grew up, passed his 10th boards...
i kept up with your life as you did... you soothed my pain after Dad's demise, you constantly kept coming home, now my home. B liked you and understood the friendship we had. we shared a lot of time talking and in that, i was pained to learn that your wife and son did not really love you... i am busy with the lump in my throat now... and you are again smiling, i can see that...
you had retired from your job by now, but took up another... not so much for money but to get out of home every morning and as an excuse to return late at night, grab a bite and fall off to sleep. i recall your pain when i told you that i was deeply addicted to sleeping pills. you even threatened to blow the whistle and let B know if i did not stop...
i am out of my addiction. i am happy once again, having gone through a rough patch... and we met again this time when i went on vacation... you seemed ok, i could not prod you beyond the apparent, since everyone was around. you did promise to come back on the last day, but called to say you could not and said, "i am not feeling well."
how would i gauge that i had to blow the whistle to your wife? how would i know that your time was up?
on second thoughts, i have done some soul searching and come up with a logic for not calling in your wife... you had lost all will to live...
as a friend, i understood that, in my sub-conscious mind... and have accepted the fact that i did what i did, by design.
i again can see that grin of yours... a loving one this time, for your friend and sister, as you called me... and now the tears will not allow me to carry on.
S, the name you knew me in...
*1 Bablu -- a common name in our part of India; Dadu -- grandfather.
*2 Mashi -- Ma's sister
*3 Mesho -- Mashi's husband.
Oct 3, 2009
the place of the significant other...
... in our lives, depends a lot on attitude, in fact whole of it.
have seen couples who portray a total lack of balance when it comes to their spouses, because the lady decides willingly to be a doormat. the man is clearly more equal than the woman and the woman either does not know what she has traded away (identity), or does not want to have one. that's one way.
then there are others where the lady wears the pants, because the man is docile and takes the passive role. here, the man has less of an identity. that's another option. the straight ones, both these, i call them.
the third way is made by couples who have, knowingly, shunned both the above and want a decent space for each of them(selves)... and that is the trick, since even if they are clear, on how much they will yield to each other and constantly think hard of how well to finetune it, people around who have seen an either/or scenario, do not know what is going on in these homes... i happen to fall in this third bracket.
B and i met 25 years back, as college students, in the same class. we have courted for 6+ years, and have been married for the past 18+ years. so the question of inequality really did not arise, to begin with.
so after marriage, while we both were clear in our minds, people around were not. my folks knew better... that to comment would be inviting problems and they steered clear. his folks stumbled a little in the beginning and have let it be.
running the home is my responsibility. he earns, i manage. i decide what is to be bought, what is to be cooked, what is to be washed and ironed, what is to be junked. and i love doing it. where i cannot, i seek paid help, in cooking for instance.
i manage R too... keeping my schedules as closely linked to hers, her studies, her classes, the works... where i cannot, B pitches in willingly.
we use each other as sounding boards for our doubts in life, in general.
we have kept one aspect separate -- money. i manage mine; he manages his, though we do know what the other is doing and not doing. we are more mature here and do not question. possibly, we have developed a certain respect in each other's judgement.
rather a plain arrangement, it struck me yesterday when, at a get-together of B's colleagues, one wife from Category 1, commented that she had the liberty of spending $4200 on a diamond bangle and mind you, she does not work for a living. this bangle was just to complete a set with a diamond necklace that her husband had got for her earlier in the year.
the mention has not saddened me or surprised me, it has just made me more conscious of one fact -- i come really cheap... only hope B realises it.
have seen couples who portray a total lack of balance when it comes to their spouses, because the lady decides willingly to be a doormat. the man is clearly more equal than the woman and the woman either does not know what she has traded away (identity), or does not want to have one. that's one way.
then there are others where the lady wears the pants, because the man is docile and takes the passive role. here, the man has less of an identity. that's another option. the straight ones, both these, i call them.
the third way is made by couples who have, knowingly, shunned both the above and want a decent space for each of them(selves)... and that is the trick, since even if they are clear, on how much they will yield to each other and constantly think hard of how well to finetune it, people around who have seen an either/or scenario, do not know what is going on in these homes... i happen to fall in this third bracket.
B and i met 25 years back, as college students, in the same class. we have courted for 6+ years, and have been married for the past 18+ years. so the question of inequality really did not arise, to begin with.
so after marriage, while we both were clear in our minds, people around were not. my folks knew better... that to comment would be inviting problems and they steered clear. his folks stumbled a little in the beginning and have let it be.
running the home is my responsibility. he earns, i manage. i decide what is to be bought, what is to be cooked, what is to be washed and ironed, what is to be junked. and i love doing it. where i cannot, i seek paid help, in cooking for instance.
i manage R too... keeping my schedules as closely linked to hers, her studies, her classes, the works... where i cannot, B pitches in willingly.
we use each other as sounding boards for our doubts in life, in general.
we have kept one aspect separate -- money. i manage mine; he manages his, though we do know what the other is doing and not doing. we are more mature here and do not question. possibly, we have developed a certain respect in each other's judgement.
rather a plain arrangement, it struck me yesterday when, at a get-together of B's colleagues, one wife from Category 1, commented that she had the liberty of spending $4200 on a diamond bangle and mind you, she does not work for a living. this bangle was just to complete a set with a diamond necklace that her husband had got for her earlier in the year.
the mention has not saddened me or surprised me, it has just made me more conscious of one fact -- i come really cheap... only hope B realises it.
Oct 1, 2009
why can't i be a martyr
this is clear why she does not like martyrs. i am with her on all she says -- that does not call for a post, though. what calls for a post is to state why i just cannot tolerate them and why i find it difficult to be one.
martyrs are irritating, period. enough said, no more emphasis needed.
they lack self-respect, thus they crib and only crib.
they bitch because they lack the courage to speak up in front of people, they have objections on.
and they whine, because that is the only thing they can do. they are sufficient for only that.
i have a Mt. Everest-ish ego. and i have tonnes of self-respect. i do not crib because it hurts my sense of privacy; i bitch, yes, but i also tell most people on their faces what i think on issues, i rarely comment on people and i hate to whine since i do not want sympathy or advice... my problem is mine and i can tackle it, if at all. i prefer not to have half-baked ideas as advice.
and most important, i can stand up for myself, which is one thing i keep drilling into R. let's see how she turns out to be, anything is fine, as long as she is not a martyr.
martyrs are irritating, period. enough said, no more emphasis needed.
they lack self-respect, thus they crib and only crib.
they bitch because they lack the courage to speak up in front of people, they have objections on.
and they whine, because that is the only thing they can do. they are sufficient for only that.
i have a Mt. Everest-ish ego. and i have tonnes of self-respect. i do not crib because it hurts my sense of privacy; i bitch, yes, but i also tell most people on their faces what i think on issues, i rarely comment on people and i hate to whine since i do not want sympathy or advice... my problem is mine and i can tackle it, if at all. i prefer not to have half-baked ideas as advice.
and most important, i can stand up for myself, which is one thing i keep drilling into R. let's see how she turns out to be, anything is fine, as long as she is not a martyr.
Sep 21, 2009
of kebabs and koftas
i am no cook... yes, i do cook, but that is only now, in the past 9 months, the longest stint in my cooking calendar.
but when i made the lamb kebab today, after R's contant reminder that i had promised to make some for her, and served them hot-from-the-
oven to her, she smiled a smile that she has never...
and that is what pushes me to cook these days -- the look on her face which shines with an unexplained happiness tinged with a dash of pride.
and guess whom she befriended to share this little message with me... my Ma, who is (or is it was??) the best cook i have met and known...
R told her, on being served consecutive meals made by her grandmom this summer, that she wished her mom too would cook the same dishes -- malpoa, lau, shukto... peppered with her own kebab, kofta and pudding...
and honestly, i have made all the three on R's wishlist...
children have their own way of getting things done, and i do believe, R told Ma, not to get the things she wants, but trusts the impact of something that Ma will tell me to do...
some things go beyond explanation... and the bond that R shares with both her grandmoms is unique... with one, it is still like a child, with pranks, jokes and laughter; with the other, she acts like a full-blown adult, keeping her reserve and limit. and both these, she plays with equal ease, poise and a lot of confidence.
i relished watching both of these role-plays last vacation home... it was R's first visit as a teenager, and i was sceptical that she might show her ugly self there... the mother in me would be hurt then... but blood ties brought out the best in her and she behaved herself to the T, and needed no prompting whatsoever... it was as if, she never lived without our folks.
but when i made the lamb kebab today, after R's contant reminder that i had promised to make some for her, and served them hot-from-the-
oven to her, she smiled a smile that she has never...
and that is what pushes me to cook these days -- the look on her face which shines with an unexplained happiness tinged with a dash of pride.
and guess whom she befriended to share this little message with me... my Ma, who is (or is it was??) the best cook i have met and known...
R told her, on being served consecutive meals made by her grandmom this summer, that she wished her mom too would cook the same dishes -- malpoa, lau, shukto... peppered with her own kebab, kofta and pudding...
and honestly, i have made all the three on R's wishlist...
children have their own way of getting things done, and i do believe, R told Ma, not to get the things she wants, but trusts the impact of something that Ma will tell me to do...
some things go beyond explanation... and the bond that R shares with both her grandmoms is unique... with one, it is still like a child, with pranks, jokes and laughter; with the other, she acts like a full-blown adult, keeping her reserve and limit. and both these, she plays with equal ease, poise and a lot of confidence.
i relished watching both of these role-plays last vacation home... it was R's first visit as a teenager, and i was sceptical that she might show her ugly self there... the mother in me would be hurt then... but blood ties brought out the best in her and she behaved herself to the T, and needed no prompting whatsoever... it was as if, she never lived without our folks.
Sep 10, 2009
living with two MEs
a strange feeling, sometimes a little weird, sometimes funny because of the complete opposites that get thrown up, at times outright boring because of the sheer repititiveness, other times a simply enjoyable pastime, and i am sure, this is no unique sitiuation, that i am not alone in this, that there are countless other loners who go through this and it is because they enjoy this dialogue, the two MEs grow, they are nourished, fed, bathed, clothed and let to live, only in the mind...
i call them my Big Me and my Small Me... the two guys who live inside me, relentlessly talking, talking in long soliloquies, or mono-sentences, as the mood is...
let's me recount one dialogue that has been happening for quite sometime now...
Big Me (BM): why blog?
Small Me (SM): why not? it feels good to let go of words and feelings that lie inside.
BM: words yes, feelings no. can i be open with feelings here?
SM: oh, you and open with feelings???? not possible, buddy... that is the because of your Spastic Colon, am i correct?
BM: behave yourself and i am not your buddy, understand... why talk irrelevant things? i was just raising a question and you have come out with an unrelated problem...
SM: i thought it was related... you are constipated in mind and body (the latter has resulted in the colon disorder)...ok, ok sorry, be less touchy...
BM: why blog?
SM: you are back to where you started... but as i said, i am all for telling what i feel, and care not for what others think about me...
BM: that is the reason why you and me are different, though we live in the same mind. that is the reason why your mental age does not increase and mine has never decreased, though we keep talking to each other.
SM: keep to the basics... mental age is a factor of the mind... i do not have one... but jokes aside, why aren't you writing? why are you not giving vent to what is inside you?
BM: call it a writer's block, a thinker's block, but there is some sort of a block and so many questions...
SM: like?
BM: i asked you one: why blog? rather how should one blog, since you have already answered my earlier question?
SM: what do you mean?
BM: how honest can one be? how honest should one be?
SM: for me, both are same... what i can do, i should do; what i can say, i should say...
BM: that is the reason why you are S and i am B... for me there is a yawning gap between should and can...i cannot do all that i should be doing; i should not do all that i can do...
SM: for once, keep your rhetorics aside and go write. just get off all the blocks and communicate with yourself loud. it's fine, it does not really matter that others might read your blog and read into your mind... all who come here to write, write with a view to getting a free mind... that is the idea.
BM: for starters, i will publish this dialogue... Yipee!!!
i call them my Big Me and my Small Me... the two guys who live inside me, relentlessly talking, talking in long soliloquies, or mono-sentences, as the mood is...
let's me recount one dialogue that has been happening for quite sometime now...
Big Me (BM): why blog?
Small Me (SM): why not? it feels good to let go of words and feelings that lie inside.
BM: words yes, feelings no. can i be open with feelings here?
SM: oh, you and open with feelings???? not possible, buddy... that is the because of your Spastic Colon, am i correct?
BM: behave yourself and i am not your buddy, understand... why talk irrelevant things? i was just raising a question and you have come out with an unrelated problem...
SM: i thought it was related... you are constipated in mind and body (the latter has resulted in the colon disorder)...ok, ok sorry, be less touchy...
BM: why blog?
SM: you are back to where you started... but as i said, i am all for telling what i feel, and care not for what others think about me...
BM: that is the reason why you and me are different, though we live in the same mind. that is the reason why your mental age does not increase and mine has never decreased, though we keep talking to each other.
SM: keep to the basics... mental age is a factor of the mind... i do not have one... but jokes aside, why aren't you writing? why are you not giving vent to what is inside you?
BM: call it a writer's block, a thinker's block, but there is some sort of a block and so many questions...
SM: like?
BM: i asked you one: why blog? rather how should one blog, since you have already answered my earlier question?
SM: what do you mean?
BM: how honest can one be? how honest should one be?
SM: for me, both are same... what i can do, i should do; what i can say, i should say...
BM: that is the reason why you are S and i am B... for me there is a yawning gap between should and can...i cannot do all that i should be doing; i should not do all that i can do...
SM: for once, keep your rhetorics aside and go write. just get off all the blocks and communicate with yourself loud. it's fine, it does not really matter that others might read your blog and read into your mind... all who come here to write, write with a view to getting a free mind... that is the idea.
BM: for starters, i will publish this dialogue... Yipee!!!
Jun 21, 2009
40 years back...
when i was roughly 2...Umm, this emotion is universal, i guess...
i don't know whether the man here held another child or not; i guess he had...
but the care is so palpable... something that will never ever happen, and something i will miss perpetually...
Jun 19, 2009
and now the real answers... and how i now reside in Pluto
honestly, i was crest fallen with the earlier post... i hit a depression, cried and cried to friends (something that is really really difficult) and decided to speak to her... she said the earlier answers were JOKES and could i take them seriously??? i said, "Ok. then send me the correct, serious answers by mail. but no buttering." she instantly said, "i do not butter people, and in this i am like you and Pa."
and here are the real answers...
What is something I always say to you?
To be independent
** how well she has read me**
What makes me happy?
When im happy…so r u
What makes me sad?
When im sad…..so r u
Actually….im the funny one
Like?
Ummm….im not very funny….but I laugh at my own jokes…and some of yours too.
What do you think I was like as a child?
Honour student!!! Proud one at that
Your pretty much good at everything….mabye maths??
and here are the real answers...
What is something I always say to you?
To be independent
** how well she has read me**
What makes me happy?
When im happy…so r u
What makes me sad?
When im sad…..so r u
** can i gloat a little over these two??**
How do I make you laugh?Actually….im the funny one
Like?
Ummm….im not very funny….but I laugh at my own jokes…and some of yours too.
What do you think I was like as a child?
Honour student!!! Proud one at that
** Ma, r u hearing this??**
How old am I?
Ur a baby!!!!!! =)
How tall am I?
A bit shorter than me
**this is true**
What is my favourite thing to do?
Read….sleep….talk to me
What do I do when you’re not around?
Think of me??? Hahahahah….i don’t know….read?
If I become famous, what will it be for?
Writing a book…..you better get started
**i am hitting the rooftop, better tell the world that i do not fit here any more :))**
What am I really good at?
At giving pep talks
Really?
yes
Your pretty much good at everything….mabye maths??
**my new address is Crater No. 10, Jupiter :)))))**
What is my job?
Journalist…mother…wife…daughter
** she is mistaken on the order... it is Journalist, Mother, Daughter, then Wife, but i will let that be, for her and her Pa's sake**
What is my favourite food?
Dal and rice
** she knows i am a proletariat with simple living, high thinking**
What makes you proud of me?
that you’re…..ummmm….independent
**folks, i am on Hillock No 581, Pluto**
What makes me proud of you?
Duh…that im ATRAYEE MUKHERJEE….that should make you proud enough!!
**it DOES, for sure**
What do you and I do together?
I explain to you about hannah montanna
How are we the same?
Looks wise
How are you and I different?
We have very different opinions…tastes
How do you know that I love you?
Because I just know
**Muaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah**
What is one thing you wish you could change about me?
Make you thinner
**we have the same wishlist :)) which will not materialise**
Now tell me what you feel about this... me and my fragile maternal ego will feel better...
Jun 18, 2009
read it, nonetheless
one book, after a long time, that i had to make an effort to get going. but i did not give up and it took exactly six weeks to be done with it. since i made the effort, i thought, i will write about it too.this 194-page book is one continuous read, no breaks, no chapters, no segregation... the biggest drawback for a reader like me who reads a couple of chapters of a book on a day... and without this break, it was a little drudgery to go on.
but first a little background. if you have seen the link, it's clear why, though, being considered a foremost writer of the 2oth century, Woolf is a difficult read. One, the time is quite far back -- 84 years to be precise, published as it was in 1925. that however is little reason for its being difficult since the thought process is very contemporary. it is the use of language itself which is most important reason behind it being quite a toll on the reader.
i will quote a sample:
"For the great revolution of Mr. Willet's summer time had taken Peter Walsh's last visit to England. the prolonged evening was new to him. It was inspiring, rather. For as the young people went by with their despatch-boxes, awfully glad to be free, proud too, dunbly, of stepping this famous pavement, joy of a kind, cheap, tinselly, if you like, but all the same rapture, flushed their faces. They dressed well too; pink stockings; pretty shoes. They would now have two hours at the pictures. It sharpened, it refined them, the yellow-blue evening light; and on the leaves in the square shone lurid, livid -- they looked as if dipped in sea water -- the foliage of a submered city. He was astonished by the beauty; it was encouraging too, for where the returned Anglo-Indian sat by rights (he knew crowds of them) in the Oriental Club biliously summing up the ruin of the world, here was he, as young as ever; envying young people their summer time and the rest of it, and more than suspecting from the words of a girl, from a housemaid's laughter -- intangible things you couldn't lay your hands on -- that shift in the whole pyramidal accumulation which in his youth had seemed immovable..."
all the above, within quotes, is one half of a para, spanning one and a half pages. that is on the negative since today, we are more comfortable with this, the 140-character magic.
on the positive, look at the myraid streams of thought that Woolf captures, all of it in one mind -- Peter Walsh, Mrs Dalloway's ex-boyfriend, who has come for the party that she throws at her London mansion. And the 194-page novella just talks about this one day, the day of the party, from morning till night, with about 2% printed space given to dialogues.
if you are patient, read it. if you want to unravel layers of thought in a mind at any point in time, read it. if London fascinates you, read it.
Jun 17, 2009
the difficult teen? or the overweening Mom?
The tag is from here and only for her sake have i gone ahead and published this. BTW, i sent the questions by mail and she replied...
What is something I always say to you?
“if u get gud marks mi bank balance wont increase”
What makes me happy?
Ummmmm….gud marks??
What makes me sad?
Bad marks??
How do I make you laugh?
Ur not funny at all
Like?
Whts dat supposed to mean?
What do you think I was like as a child?
Bukworm??
How old am I?
43…in other words really old!!
How tall am I?
Shorter dan me
What is my favourite thing to do?
Sleep??
What do I do when you’re not around?
Sleep??
If I become famous, what will it be for?
Being hitler’s incarnation….
What am I really good at?
Bossing people
Really?
Yup!!
What am I not really good at?
Ummm….evrything xcept bossing people
What is my job?
Irritating people…nd bossing them
What is my favourite food?
Mango?
What makes you proud of me?
Nuthin!!
What makes me proud of you?
Gud marks?
What do you and I do together?
U irritate me…I shout at u!!
How are we the same?
Onli luks wise
How are you and I different?
Evry other way
How do you know that I love you?
I don read minds!!
What is one thing you wish you could change about me?
Ummm…nuthin!!!
... now you know why i was sure a e-mail would work and a face-to-face would not?
What is something I always say to you?
“if u get gud marks mi bank balance wont increase”
What makes me happy?
Ummmmm….gud marks??
What makes me sad?
Bad marks??
How do I make you laugh?
Ur not funny at all
Like?
Whts dat supposed to mean?
What do you think I was like as a child?
Bukworm??
How old am I?
43…in other words really old!!
How tall am I?
Shorter dan me
What is my favourite thing to do?
Sleep??
What do I do when you’re not around?
Sleep??
If I become famous, what will it be for?
Being hitler’s incarnation….
What am I really good at?
Bossing people
Really?
Yup!!
What am I not really good at?
Ummm….evrything xcept bossing people
What is my job?
Irritating people…nd bossing them
What is my favourite food?
Mango?
What makes you proud of me?
Nuthin!!
What makes me proud of you?
Gud marks?
What do you and I do together?
U irritate me…I shout at u!!
How are we the same?
Onli luks wise
How are you and I different?
Evry other way
How do you know that I love you?
I don read minds!!
What is one thing you wish you could change about me?
Ummm…nuthin!!!
... now you know why i was sure a e-mail would work and a face-to-face would not?
Jun 10, 2009
i am looking forward to a long break...
... and all i want is great food, home-cooked and planned by Ma, late mornings when i can not only wake up late, but also brush for 10 minutes, have a hot cuppa of nicely brewed Darjeeing tea, glaze over the headlines of The Statesman, The Telegraph and The Times of India, in exactly the same order, have breakfast at leisure with Ma and R, and listen to all that Ma has to say, tell her my points of view and slip into bed for a small rest...
... to be broken by umpteen reminders for a bath... followed by yum food, a short siesta, tea again, then the trio, spread across three generations goes socialising or have guests drop over, or bro, sis-in-law and nephew join in for a loud get-together where more time goes in giggling and trying to stop the children fight than reach any conclusion in what we are trying to discusss, followed by dinner and late night chit-chats, catching up of old gossip, and slipping off to slumber amidst all the side-pillows...
but such days, i know for sure, will be few and far between, they will be peppered with more work, mindless socialising and phone calls, though i have tried to tell Ma that this time on, i am not going to make any phone calls, not go visiting anyone...
she has mastered the art of diplomacy quite well, so says, "don't worry, I am not even going to suggest such things to you", but i know the ease with which she will mention people whom she wants me to call/visit and leave the decision to me... and i will do what she wants... when she sees, i am not yielding, she will drop a hint, "you will know how i am feeling when once R comes visiting and she does not call on anyone, like B (bro), for instance." and she will have the better of me... this has been the story for the past 18 years... and we seem to just carry on being the same...
... to be broken by umpteen reminders for a bath... followed by yum food, a short siesta, tea again, then the trio, spread across three generations goes socialising or have guests drop over, or bro, sis-in-law and nephew join in for a loud get-together where more time goes in giggling and trying to stop the children fight than reach any conclusion in what we are trying to discusss, followed by dinner and late night chit-chats, catching up of old gossip, and slipping off to slumber amidst all the side-pillows...
but such days, i know for sure, will be few and far between, they will be peppered with more work, mindless socialising and phone calls, though i have tried to tell Ma that this time on, i am not going to make any phone calls, not go visiting anyone...
she has mastered the art of diplomacy quite well, so says, "don't worry, I am not even going to suggest such things to you", but i know the ease with which she will mention people whom she wants me to call/visit and leave the decision to me... and i will do what she wants... when she sees, i am not yielding, she will drop a hint, "you will know how i am feeling when once R comes visiting and she does not call on anyone, like B (bro), for instance." and she will have the better of me... this has been the story for the past 18 years... and we seem to just carry on being the same...
Jun 6, 2009
Mom-to-Mom tag
Umm tagged me and here's my take on mommy-ing and why it is sooooo difficult.
1. The challenges change every day. One day's peace does not guarantee the next day's; one day's challenge met, does not make the next day's easier.
2. There are no recipe's for easy success.
3. Forgiving is no effort, but it gets a little difficult when one has to continuously go on doing it.
4. When outsiders praise the child for her discipline, for her controlled reactions, for the way she carries herself, my constant reaction is, "If you can the same things about her 10 years on, I'll know that it is a job well done." But inside, deep inside the chest swells. Ms Pride at work! but is thumped instantly.
5. Parenting has a nice, little prefix: TACT, all caps, bold, in shining colour and the tact is seen through very easily by the child, so one goes on racking the brain constantly.
I could go on, but since 5 is the number, I stop.
BTW, just read this lady's blog in case you guys feel like...
1. The challenges change every day. One day's peace does not guarantee the next day's; one day's challenge met, does not make the next day's easier.
2. There are no recipe's for easy success.
3. Forgiving is no effort, but it gets a little difficult when one has to continuously go on doing it.
4. When outsiders praise the child for her discipline, for her controlled reactions, for the way she carries herself, my constant reaction is, "If you can the same things about her 10 years on, I'll know that it is a job well done." But inside, deep inside the chest swells. Ms Pride at work! but is thumped instantly.
5. Parenting has a nice, little prefix: TACT, all caps, bold, in shining colour and the tact is seen through very easily by the child, so one goes on racking the brain constantly.
I could go on, but since 5 is the number, I stop.
BTW, just read this lady's blog in case you guys feel like...
Jun 4, 2009
my heart breaks to do this...
... i have to.
i have to sell it, since there is going to be no future use of it... the flat that i pined for, the one that i eventually bought, after much searching, after much planning, after much of calculations, after checking out many others, after really scrounging for every penny that i had saved out of my own salary, my own labour, my own thinking, my own brains...
... and each article, from the curtains to the cushions, from the knick-knacks to the wall paint, from the furniture in each room to the mug in the washrooms, from the lights and the fans (no there is no AC in the flat), i had been involved in, i had decided, i had paid for... and we have lived there on and off, but i do not see myself going back there...
now 11 years after i had bought it, i am thinking of selling it off... for one, this is a fourth floor lift-less flat, so no way i see myself in old age, trudging all of 78 steps to reach my little nest... and B has bought another one for us, and constantly keeps referring to that flat as "your home"... that is the closest he can get to telling me, "my gift for you"... earlier, i used to rebuff him and say "that flat i am not paying for, so it is not mine." but since he hasn't heeded to my message, i decided to heed to his... and i now refer to his flat as mine and the bugger inside has already started planning the colour of the wall paints, the lights that could be used to increase the impact of space, the kitchen cabinets, the cupboards that will have to be made, the colour of the curtains... and sometimes, very very rarely, i try to take R into confidence when she comes up with her own vision of her room...
but let me tell you one sure fact, that though i have an unearned home, a home that my husband of 18+ years has "gifted" me, the decision to sell "my own, my very own flat", is a painful decision to have arrived at... and that is one reason that i have kept postponing the ensuing vacation, i have waited 19 months from the last time i have gone just to make sure that i will finally pass it off to some other dreamer...
i have to sell it, since there is going to be no future use of it... the flat that i pined for, the one that i eventually bought, after much searching, after much planning, after much of calculations, after checking out many others, after really scrounging for every penny that i had saved out of my own salary, my own labour, my own thinking, my own brains...
... and each article, from the curtains to the cushions, from the knick-knacks to the wall paint, from the furniture in each room to the mug in the washrooms, from the lights and the fans (no there is no AC in the flat), i had been involved in, i had decided, i had paid for... and we have lived there on and off, but i do not see myself going back there...
now 11 years after i had bought it, i am thinking of selling it off... for one, this is a fourth floor lift-less flat, so no way i see myself in old age, trudging all of 78 steps to reach my little nest... and B has bought another one for us, and constantly keeps referring to that flat as "your home"... that is the closest he can get to telling me, "my gift for you"... earlier, i used to rebuff him and say "that flat i am not paying for, so it is not mine." but since he hasn't heeded to my message, i decided to heed to his... and i now refer to his flat as mine and the bugger inside has already started planning the colour of the wall paints, the lights that could be used to increase the impact of space, the kitchen cabinets, the cupboards that will have to be made, the colour of the curtains... and sometimes, very very rarely, i try to take R into confidence when she comes up with her own vision of her room...
but let me tell you one sure fact, that though i have an unearned home, a home that my husband of 18+ years has "gifted" me, the decision to sell "my own, my very own flat", is a painful decision to have arrived at... and that is one reason that i have kept postponing the ensuing vacation, i have waited 19 months from the last time i have gone just to make sure that i will finally pass it off to some other dreamer...
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