On the Piccadilly

Fear

2011-08-23T04:09:00.000-07:00

When a well-known playschool opened up a branch close to home, I was most excited. After a year of waiting outside school for two hours every day, I now welcomed the possibility of having three-hours of much needed "alone" time. Fortunately Adiv took to this new school as well. It boasted of a huge play area that had ducks, rabbits, a trampoline, and several bikes and toys. Adiv just couldn't wait to begin, though he wondered about his old teacher and friends from time to time.

Day one was a success. While many kids bawled and vomited, he waltzed in. Though mommies were told they could sit in for three days, Adiv told me I could go sit in the car. "Don't disturb me", he added. So I returned home happily, to spend three hours of "me" time. I'd now be able to read or talk on the phone (without having to answer important questions about the power rangers or Micheal Jackson), watch movies ("Inglorious Bastards" had gathered dust for a year before I finally watched it), and cook. After these three hours I'd go and pick him up. He'd play for a bit, before eventually agreeing to return home, hungry and tired. During lunch we'd talk about his day. For a week or two, when they hadn't done much, I assumed they were merely waiting for the kids to settle down. While those who cried were being carried around, Adiv entertained himself. They didn't sing songs or engage in fun activities. Also, the toys had I'd seen on the shelves during the orientation, seemed to have disappeared. To make matters worse, I overheard the teacher talk to a child who wanted to play outside. "Can't go out," she said. "Too much hot is there." A lot of the parents didn't mind the teacher's language skills, as their kids spoke no English. We were worried, because Adiv spoke only English and we didn't want him picking up any incorrect English in school.

Though I was worried about the teacher's language skills, I decided to give it time. Adiv didn't seem unhappy, and I hoped he'd make friends and have some fun.

After a month, I began realizing that all wasn't well. At first Adiv began saying he didn't want to go to school. After a week, he began screaming and crying when we reached the gate. Both Ro and I would speak to him about what was bothering him, and all he'd say was that he was scared. I wondered if he was scared of the teacher, who seemed to lack warmth. She spoke loudly and often sounded rather harsh. "I'd be scared of her if i was 3", I told Rohit. Nonetheless, we decided to watch. I walked Adiv into his class one day (despite protests from the center head), and found 10 kids sitting around a table, quietly. I was unnerved, as I didn't think three-year-olds needed to sit like stiff zombies. They needed to explore, talk, and touch the toys that lay around them. After leaving him screaming and crying, I'd wait outside till the crying stopped. I knew this was no adjustment issue, as he was alright for so long. I spoke to the center head, trying to understand what the problem was, and she said my friendly, happy child was "unfriendly" and "anti-social"! Annoyed I let her know that if he was being unfriendly he was probably unhappy. She said we should give him time to settle.

Things however got worse when Adiv began talking in his sleep. He was beginning to have nightmares about school. Also his temperament had begun to change. He was throwing frequent tantrums and seemed angry most of the time. He was terrified of his teacher, and he wasn't telling us why. Once they even left him by the gate all by himself, after another child had poured water on him. He stood alone with the watchman, waiting for me to come get him.

He was getting more and more unhappy and I had to find out what the problem was. It was then that I decided to engage in this role play activity with him. I told him I'd be Adiv and he would be aunty. He agreed happily because he has always loved make-believe games.

"Sing a nursery rhyme", he said.

I sang.

Then immediately I felt a rap on my head. "Sing properly", he said authoritatively.

It was then that I discovered that his teacher was hitting him and probably mocking him. Both Ro and I were livid, and we took him off school immediately. We also complained to the director who said she'd look into the problem immediately. Meanwhile we decided we'd home school Adiv for a bit, till he got over his fear of school. Also we didn't want him to dislike school just because of a bad experience here. And as he was only three, we didn't think he needed to put up with this place any more.

This was a month ago, and we now spend two hours every day singing rhymes, painting, learning alphabets and numbers, reading stories, and watching classics like the "Jungle Book"! I may have lost out on some alone time, but I am happier because Adiv is happy. In a couple of months we intend to start him in a new school again, and this time we intend to make sure he feels safe and happy in the environment!

Special Place Away From Home

2011-04-27T18:15:00.001-07:00

Our month-long holiday is coming to an end, and my parents are already dreading the prospect of saying goodbye to their adored grandson. It was an eventful month, with Adiv entertaining and touching them with his amusing banter, and his frequent demonstrations of love. He would sing them songs, stage mock boxing matches, cuddle up beside them to watch Ceebeebies, make demands that would invariably be met, and tell them at regular intervals that he loved them. However, he was just as vocal with his displeasure when disciplined, staying mad for a few seconds in the bedroom, before emerging again with a wide grin. "Now I'm happy" he'd say, followed by "I won't do it again." With my Dad he played amusing games. They played running and catching, boxing and racing games with his toy cars. They'd even sit around playing computer games, an addiction that Adiv has now passed on to my Dad. While my Dad was the more indulgent one who catered to every whim of his, my mom was the slightly more strict one. Though she allowed him the pleasure of jumping on to a pile of cushions or playing with water, she also had rules about what wasn't allowed. She baked with him, read to him (enacting out every scene) and brought back surprises every time she went out. He watched movies with them, drank pretend tea (water in a little cup) when they drank their tea, and insisted that they always talk TO him. He played games in tents my Dad made with bedsheets and duppattas, ocassionally even stopping to play doctor, giving injections to anyone in sight.He enjoyed going out with them; be it a trip to the beach or store, or visits to their friends homes. Everywhere he went, he demanded complete attention. On one of those trips, he'd even taken on the task of playing host, when he attempted to serve the actual hosts. "Please eat something", he said politely while simultaneously enjoying the noodles that was specially made for him. And when it was time to leave, he'd given the hosts generous hugs and the promise of coming again.
*
Adiv loves coming to Chennai, because here he is loved unconditionally. He entertains and amuses everyone from my parents, to the watchman, to the maid. This kind of importance was something anyone could get used to! With my parents Adiv shares a bond that had begun before he was born. They marvelled at his perfection when they first saw him during a scan. After he was born they were ecstatic grandparents who'd spent several sleepless nights singing to him. They took turns rocking him when he was collicky, and carried him from room to room showing him the pictures on the wall, the pigeons on the tree outside and the colors in his room.
*
As a child, my equivalent of this place had been Calcutta. I was born there, because my aunt who was a doctor lived in Calcutta. So my earliest memories of myself take me to Calcutta, where I played, entertained, threw tantrums, and was myself. I have memories of taking the rickshaw to the market with my aunt, walking to a nearby park, and standing on a stool to look at a baker writing out my name in icing on a beautiful cake. In that house, I played pretend games with my doll, listened to everyones heartbeat with my aunt's sthetescope, and hung from the window talking about friends, school and life. Years later, I still think fondly about my aunt's house, as Adiv probably will think about my home in Chennai years later.
However, for the moment he is in two minds about his return to Bangalore. While he is anxious to get back to Dada, he is not too sure about leaving Ammamma and Pappa behind. However, he secretly enjoys knowing that he will be missed when he leaves. "I will come again", he assures my parents, also adding that he'll need new terms of endearment when he does.

New Friend

2011-04-22T09:44:00.000-07:00

Adiv is afraid of policemen, though he is privately in awe of them. He loves that a policeman can put "bad" people behind bars, and shoot them if they attempt to run away (I confess he has been watching a lot of TV). However, as much as he admires them (even playing policeman from time to time), he is also very scared of them. Afterall, they had "blood guns" (his noisy toy guns paled in comparison) and handcuffs. Also, he had fears of getting arrested, because he wondered if policemen went after little boys who misbehaved from time to time.

*
Despite the blistering sun, we'd gone out today to shop, when my Dad called us back saying a policeman was waiting for my mom (who was also out with us). My parents wanted to get their passports renewed. The policeman who had shown up, had come to verify the details provided, and fill his wallet with a few crisp notes that would discreetly be pushed into his eager hands. We rushed back as soon as my Dad called, though Adiv wasn't too keen on returning just yet. He insisted on going to the beach or a toystore, when Ro told him that a policeman was waiting for him at home.
"Why?"
"He is coming to see you", said Ro.
"Why? I am good now."
"Didn't you throw a tantrum yesterday?"
"No", said Adiv beginning to look a little nervous.
"I'm not scared of jail", he said suddenly with an air of forced bravado.
"Good. You'll enjoy it then", Ro played along.
By the time we got home, he was apprehensive about getting in. He hid behind me, and seemed visibly relieved when he didn't find the policeman at home.
"Where is the policeman" he whispered to my Dad.
"He'll be back", replied my Dad. "Don't worry. He is a good man", he assured Adiv.
Adiv then ran into the bedroom, jumped on the bed, and said, "I am sooo scared." He ran into the living room and back every few seconds, checking to see if the policeman had returned. When I threatened to tell the policeman about a tantrum the previous day, he wept piteously saying, "I don't want to go to jail." We quickly assured him saying we would never let anyone take away a good boy. And if anyone tried it, we would fight them like the power rangers. That assurance had brought on a smile. "Red power ranger or blue power ranger", he continued, briefly forgetting about the policeman.

When the policeman finally made an appearance, Adiv was feeling brave. He tiptoed into the living room and sat down beside my Dad. The policeman ignored him and focused on the papers in front. The lack of a gun had made him less intimidating, and Adiv decided he could smile at him. When he got no response, he began talking.
"Hello."
"I am a good boy."
"Hello. Yes", responded the policeman, looking rather disinterested.
"I don't throw any tantrums."
We agreed vehementally, though we were mighty amused. A small smile appeared on the man's tired face.
"I also drink my complan every day", continued Adiv.
By then, the policeman seemed rather confused. He turned to my dad who explained what was going on. Once he understood his fears, he smiled at Adiv, shook hands with him, and assured him that he had nothing to fear. Adiv let out a sigh of relief, and looked at us with an expression that said, "Now this policeman is my friend, and you better be careful." He jumped around happily, before saying to the man, "You please take Ammamma (my mom) away." The man responded with a big smile and agreed to put Ammamma in jail, when Adiv changed his mind again. "Don't take anyone", he said gently. Now that they were friends, he assumed he could make these recommendations. The man agreed again, thereby cementing their friendship. The man sat down for a few more minutes and exchanged pleasantries before getting up to leave. Much to our amusement, Adiv and the man even gave eachother elaborate goodbyes.

*
So, policeman's visit had gone well, with Adiv getting rid of his unwarranted fears, and the man feeling richer (my dad had slipped him a few notes). Adiv announced that the policeman was his friend now, and that he wasn't scared. However, when Ro reminded him that he was going to Bangalore soon, Adiv decided he'd have to try and befriend the policemen in Bangalore as well.

Seasonal Friends

2011-04-17T04:44:00.000-07:00

As a group we didn't have a lot in common. Our interests were as varied as our aspirations and backgrounds. Nonetheless, we'd all met at work, bonding over long coffee breaks and frequent trips to the loo (yes, we women travel to the loo in packs, catching up on entertaining gossip while simultaneously powdering our faces and reapplying lipstick). We helped eachother with work, saw one through a painful divorce, saw another through a broken relationship, supported one who hadn't got her well-deserved promotion, and cheered another who was in process of finding "the one"! We celebrated birthdays, prayed for eachother, posed for numerous pictures, and engaged in laughing fits long after office hours. We shared our food and our lives, and gave ourselves amusing pet names. We went out eating,drinking, and having fun, but were also very involved in eachothers lives. The group was there blending in with family, and cheering me on when I got engaged. And once married, we gave eachother culinary tips and other marital advice.

As with a lot of relationships that go well, I hoped our friendship would survive the changes that came with changing priorities. This was a group that had made work interesting for me. I'd initially been sceptical about joining the company on account of the work they did. I was technologically challenged, and ill-suited for a company that did only technology-based projects. Despite announcing that the only Java I knew was the island in Indonesia, (Java script was beyond my comprehension even with help from patient subject matter experts) I'd been offered the job. Surprisingly, I hadn't fared too badly, and I'd begun enjoying work once I made these friends.

Then the changes began. I was the first to get married and leave. I still kept in touch via e-mails and calls, but once Adiv was born, he became my priority. In time others got married and eventually became mothers, while the rest acquired new jobs and new friends. We still sent eachother ocassional e-mails, even meeting up during holidays to see babies, attend family functions and gossip over lunch. Gradually the phone calls became fewer, as did our meetings.

*
Till two weeks ago, I didn't realize that the friendship was actually over. We had all moved on to better things, and didn't really need eachother to lean on and confide in. Though we decided to meet, the meeting hadn't happened. After the initial disappointment, I understood that I didn't need the group as much as I had needed them years ago. They'd helped me laugh, but they'd also taught me acceptance and sharing, aiding me in my emotional growth. They had supported me emotionally and spiritually when I needed it. However we'd all moved on since then. Now it was time to focus on current relationships, and those that had lasted, while gently letting go of those that would only be part of some very happy memories.

Finding Help

2011-02-20T04:21:00.000-08:00

When I first moved to Bangalore with three-month old Adiv, all I wanted was a good maid and a good pediatrician. I got lucky with the pediatrician, but I'm yet to find that "good" maid. I've had many in the last three years; a cheerful gossip who frequently took days off (but made some very palatable food), the quiet giant who breezed in and out without a word, a timid mouse who wanted so badly to please, a wannabe beautician who knew no cooking, a loud hag who muttered threats at Adiv, and finally a nanny-turned-housekeeper who charged a bomb. They didn't last for various reasons. Some made rare appearances, some didn't know their job, some didn't do too well, and some thought they could start calling the shots. However, what they did have in common was a displeasure of having a mistress who didn't go out to work. All of them suggested politely (and impolitely) that I leave Adiv with them and venture out. Leaving the house meant, they got to do as they pleased, and sadly for them I wasn't going to leave my baby with any of them.

The first one who made some delicious food soaked in generous helpings of oil, was good with Adiv. She played fun games that had him laughing hysterically. But being the paranoid mom, I wasn't sure I liked the idea of putting him incharge of someone who didn't change everyday. I wasn't even comfortable with her cooking, because I wasn't sure if she was bathing atall. Sometimes she wore the same saree for a week, and once she even came in wearing a nightdress. "Too lazy to change", she giggled and walked in. She wasn't reliable, and went missing for 13 days. By the time she returned (without any apologies), I had replaced her.

The quiet woman who replaced her didn't say much except when she was protesting.
"Do I have to sweep under the rug?"
"Do I really need to sweep and wipe the balconies?"
When Adiv's feet began showing tell-tale signs of how well she was sweeping, I sent her off.

Then came a family (in turns). The daughter ambled from room to room with a broom, as if gentle caressing the floor. She soon left for greener pastures (baby sitting for a child who'd be home alone), leaving her sister here. Her sister, a cheerful young girl with sparkly eyes, did pretty decent work, but she complained about the food I gave her from time to time.
"This isn't how you make it Didi."
"More oil Didi"
"We don't make upma like this Didi."
Eventually when I told her the food wasn't part of the deal and that she shouldn't complain when it was given, she left in a huff. Her loud-mouthed mother came next with tales of how her daughter had stopped work because her husband who had given up work so he could live off (drink) her. I didn't mind as long as I had help. She seemed okay, except that she made elaborate displays of cleaning the walls and the floors when I was in the room. Soon I also noticed that she disliked Adiv. She blamed him for running across the room when she was sweeping, and tugging at the clothes that were being put out. When I finally heard her yell threats at him (he ofcourse giggled innocently) I sent her off.

During that time I had a cook who was a wannabe beautician who was well-dressed and came to work wearing makeup. When she started work, I knew I couldn't really sit around with umcombed hair, wearing a pair of tracks and an old tshirt. She was a nice girl who needed the money. Sadly she didn't know any cooking. When her family decided to get back to Manipur (their home town) for the sake of their kids, I was able to say "Bye" without the guilt of having sent off someone who needed the money.

Soon afterwards, I had a woman who seemed matronly and kind. She made good food, and her work was good. She was gentle and soft spoken. I tried to hold on to her with generous amounts of food that she could take home from time to time. I believed that if she was also happy, I'd be able to keep her. All was well, till guests showed up on weekend. "Too much work", she said and walked out, without any warning! I wept later, because I was angry at myself. I'd been trying to please her into staying by helping out with all the chores.

Luckily after her came a gentle, mousy woman who'd never stepped out of her house before. She was sincere and willing to learn. Unfortunately, when my grieving mother-in-law moved in with us, we needed someone who'd be home for the entire day, because I would be out driving Adiv to school, waiting around and then bringing him back. This lady, though willing to learn, couldn't cook. So I had to let her go, and replace her with a fancy, super-efficient, super-expensive maid.

This last maid was a nanny once, with some experience overseas. She was a deligent worker and a willing learner. She did all the work, and the money we paid her seemed worth it, though it was way above what anyone was getting in this area. She did all that was expected of her, and I was generous with food and presents for her daughter. It was an easy relationship, but familiarity had to breed contempt. After a year in our house, she began thinking she could call the shots. She reduced her work hours to half (even though the salary had increased), and began taking time off to "rest"! She argued she needed 3/4 days a month to rest, in addition to the Sundays she got. She even began refusing chores saying, "I'll do it another day. Today I'm busy." Her excuses for not coming ranged from "I'm tired" to "My daughter didn't wake up early this morning." When I threatened her with a pay cut, she said she needed time to think about whether she wanted to continue. She called after a week, chatting pleasantly, and asking when she could start again. By then I'd had enough, so I decided to say bye!

This was a month ago, and the hunt for a replacement continues. While many have come and agreed to the terms, noone has started work yet. Sometimes I wonder if the last maid is fabricating tales to drive away hopefuls, just so I am forced to call her back.

This is the plight that many of us share. We struggle to find good help, and make futile attempts to keep them. A week ago someone I met was frantically washing up some of the vessels, so her servant wouldn't be angry at the amount of vessels. I know people who entice maids with TV watching and other perks. We are so dependant on them, and the biggest mistake some us make is letting them think they are indispensible. In the last month I've found that they aren't. I'm optimistic. I've got into the routine of cooking and doing the household chores, when Adiv takes his afternoon nap. In the morning I drive him to school, and wait outside with a book (Iris Murdoch at the moment). I'm busier, and hoping to be fitter. But my fingers remain crossed, as I wait for someone who will last.

To the movies

2011-02-17T18:58:00.000-08:00

I love going to the movies! I enjoy standing in queues for tickets and the anticipation of finally being able to see stories come alive on a big screen. When I was younger, the theatre experience wasn't as "fancy" as it is now. We didn't walk into well-lit, air-conditioned lounges to buy tubs of buttered popcorn and drinks, before being led into a clean movie hall. Then, we went to threatres that we knew (and hoped) were clean, ignoring the discomfort of the chairs, focussing only on the thrill of seeing the curtains come up. I didn't even mind the government sponsored films on development that were showed before the movie began. During the break, we'd saunter into the lobby, buy ourselves Thumbs-up and popcorn. Now there are queues of people who can't quite decide if they want the tortilla chips or the popcorn or the chicken and coleslaw sandwich. Nonetheless, I like that we are in surroundings that are cleaner than it used to be. While we buy these goodies and wait in the lounge, we're only mildly aware of a small group of workers streaming in to clean the hall. Once they are done, we are let in. A few advertisments later, the movie has begun, and we are hooked.

I've always been a movie buff, and I was no snob as far as the genre went. I enjoyed Govinda's slapstick, Rajinikanth's theatrics and romantic comedies, as much as I enjoyed Kurosawa, Majid Majidi and Kieslowski. I loved the song and dance routine, as much as I loved a good story that made me think and cry. If people thought I watched too many movies as a child, they weren't very surprised when I chose to study film in college. Though I didn't pursue a career in films, I still continued to watch them.
Much of this movie watching came to a halt after Adiv's birth. Despite our initial attempts at watching films in theatres, we soon gave up. Adiv would watch wide-eyed for 10 minutes, and soon begin his explorations. So much of the time, one of us was standing outside with him, while the other watched inside feeling a wee bit guilty. So from them on, it was only DVDs for us. We got them as soon as they were out (Ro even bought many of them during his travels abroad), and watched them in the confines of our home, while Adiv was either sleeping or busy playing with his cars.

Then two weeks ago, I did something I hadn't done before; I went for a movie alone. Fairly independant, I'd done several things on my own. I'd eaten in restaurants on my own, I'd travelled alone, I'd shopped alone, I'd spent entire days in the British Library alone etc etc. Nonetheless, watching a movie on my own didn't feature in my list of favorite activities. I preferred company when I watched a movie, because if I enjoyed anything more than a movie, it the prospect of discusssing it (read: Ripping it apart) after it was over. So if I went alone, I was denying myself that experience.
However, this time I couldn't depend on Ro (he was needed to babysit Adiv) and my plans to see the film were sudden. I finished cooking lunch, changed and rushed out. I was going to see "Biutiful"; a film I knew nothing about. I knew it had two Oscar nominations and I'd seen a lot of Javier Bardem's work previously, to know that he'd be nothing less than brilliant. So I drove myself to the mall, parked (tough task on a weekend when the entire world is in the malls), and went to the ticket counter. The man at the counter was chatty.
"It's a spanish movie", he said.
"I know. I want one ticket."
"But it has english subtitles", he added.
"I know."
Eventually he gave me my ticket. I walked in with a small group of people (the only few who wanted to see Biutiful) and waited for the movie to begin. The theatre was fairly empty. In the theatre were two other people who'd come alone as I had. There was one group that seemed as serious about the film. Two other men were merely enjoying the airconditioning. So they were already snoring gently at the back. Three girls chatted and giggled incessantly till someone gave them an irritable "shush". Then there were two couples who chose the back row to cootchie-coo! Once all of us had found our places, the movie began.
As predicted, the movie was well-acted, though a tad bit too depressing. Javier Bardem was brilliant as a father who shuttled between Chinese sweatshop owners, illegal african street hawkers, his kids, and an ex-wife who was bipolar. He also made some money by passing on messages from the dead to the bereaved, so he could provide for his kids after his time. He was dying. Despite all this, the film focussed on goodness and all that was beautiful in the human soul. Uxbal, the man he played is good and willing to make a difference.
In the darkness, wearing my cloak of anonymity, I cried! There were no disturbances. Adiv didn't need his water or feel the need to wander away. I was in the movie, and I felt every emotion.
So with "Biutiful" began a new experience; the experience of watching a film alone, in a theatre with a group of strangers. Though I still missed discussing it afterwards, Ro was kind enough to listen to my narration of the storyline (I don't mind that either). Now, before I rush off to school, I'm planning my next outing for the weekend; The Fighter maybe? Rabbit hole?

Three

2011-01-18T22:27:00.001-08:00

As far as Adiv's birthday celebrations go, it's been a month-long, ongoing event. Christmas, a big wedding, an early-party, numerous home made cakes topped with three candles, and an unending supply of toys have led the little guy into believing in birth months and not birth days.

First my parents came armed with the customary packet filled with presents. Then there was a Christmas party, where he dragged home a big bag filled with presents. Then, there was the excitement of welcoming my brother who made his annual appearance. An indulgent uncle, he pampered Adiv with more toys. Then we visited the extended family in Kerala, during a wedding. When we got back to Bangalore, we were planning his birthday. Adiv wanted the balloons and the streamers, and he practiced his thank you speeches even before the presents made an appearance. Rohit ordered the food, and my father took on the responsibility of decorating the house. Meanwhile, I began thinking about the cake I wanted to make. Despite being told it would be easier to buy that perfect looking cake, I was determined to bake one. So when Adiv announced that he wanted Spider Man, Ro and I decided to try and make a Spidey cake.

This entire process was fun, because Adiv sat through it all. He helped me bake the cake (sifting the flour is quite a task for a three-year-old-to-be) and helped us mix colors for the icing. Once the coconut loaf cake was ready (a success), I got the base ready by pouring royal icing on top of the cake. On top of that, Rohit carefully drew Spidey's eyes. We did an excited jig because the eyes were perfect. Then in turns, we finished the rest of the icing. We were proud parents, and to celebrate our success, I licked the remnants of the icing. Adiv who was up, clapping and bouncing, wept buckets when my lips, tongue and teeth turned a nightmarish purple.

"Mimi became monster", he wept tragically, while I furiously brushed my teeth to get rid of all the coloring!

The birthday was a sucess. The biriyani and phirni were great. The cake was tasty and Adiv loved it. The family came to sing to him, and he graciously accepted all his presents with obvious excitement.

Since then he's been cutting several cakes each week. We came to Chennai to spend time with my brother and see him off, and my mom has been baking regularly since then. Every cake came with three candles that he blew out, while we sang loudly to him. Truly an exciting month for him.

So, as is obvious the year has begun well for him. As it progresses I hope and pray, it will be as good and exciting. I hope he continues to be surrounded by people who love him. I hope he appreciates family, not taking anyone for granted. I hope he values all his blessings, and grows into a good human being.

2010 ended well for him. He discovered love, not once but twice. First came the pretty young thing in pink, who played haughty, but eventually succumbed to his charms. Though she ignored him initially, she was soon seeing him off after school. He played cool, picking his clothes, insisting on belts and matching pairs of socks. He even refused to let me walk him to the door of his school. "You wait outside", he said quietly. He was letting his lady love think that he was driving to school on his own.

Then came pretty young girl in pink (2). "She is very pretty" he gushed. "She wears pink lipstick", he added, commenting on her pink lips! Unfortunately she didn't fall for his wooing, as he'd changed his technique. He was showing her his tongue and teeth, after all wasn't that what the chimp told George (of "George of the Jungle") to do? He also made new friends with whom he exchanged tales of dried cranberries (!) and dinosaurs. He met cousins he hadn't seen in a while, and discovered that boys play games that are more fun. He learned to pedal his bike and sweetly ask for a bigger one (we're getting him one). He thinks the pizza man has the "coolest" job in the world, because he wears a cap and drives a bike. He thinks I have all the answers (I'm enjoying that status now), and that Rohit is the strongest man alive. (I've tutored him to say, "I get my muscles from Dada and my brains from Mimi"). He likes to dress up like "Wake up Sid" (Ranbir Kapoor), and has developed a fascination for Micheal Jackson. He loves his teacher and school, and has now begun demanding sandwiches and burgers that have faces.

As parents it's been an exciting year for us as well. We now have a little boy with a vivid imagination. In addition to cars and guns, we have a little man who loves to cook inside his tent. He enjoys playing magic dungeon under a blanket, where we are magically transported to magical lands (birthdays, balloons, icecreams) where only rabbits play hosts. He never tires of hearing the story of "Hansel and Gretel", and loves having people over. If he can amaze me with his social skills, he can even exasperate me with his jealous rage when we give other little kids as much attention. After an peaceful 2010, we now look forward to an exciting 2011.

The Big Inning

2010-12-03T01:07:00.000-08:00

We've finally begun the school hunt for Adiv. Though we are happy with the school he goes to, they only have classes till UKG. If we waited to shift him after that, we were warned we'd have trouble finding a good school that would take him in then. So it made sense to shift him while he was in nursery or LKG.
Ro and I got busy, and made a list of schools we were interested in. The first few schools we checked out, proved to be way too expensive. Then there were some that only wanted rank holders, and we definitely didn't want a school that was only interested in academics. Neither did we want a school that took in only rich kids (we'd be going to Kerala while his classmates went to Italy during the holidays). We wanted a fun place that would understand that every child was unique and talented, and make learning fun for them. We were wary of schools that had large classes, because we didn't want Adiv to disappear in a crowd. We also didn't want a school that expected every child to conform to a specific standard. We wanted a place that would encourage him to think for himself, and not tell him how to think. After much internal debate, we finally decided to visit a school that was recommended very highly.

After making an appointment, we got to the school on time. The admissions officer, a short haired lady with a made-up face rushed us into her office saying, "I've only got 10 minutes." She offered us seats, ruffled through some papers on her table, and began talking. She was so busy, she barely looked at us or Adiv, who was waving his hands in the air to get her attention. Of the ten minutes she spent with us, she used the first 5 minutes to throw us a lot of jargon. Confused, I turned to Ro, who seemed to be paying a lot of attention. After this memorized speech, she went on to tell us about the school.
After a dramatic pause, she said, "We prepare the child for 1st standard."
"Hmm", I said, not quite sure as to what that meant.
"So, we begin with Maths, English, and Environmental Studies in Nursery", she added.
Now I was amused. Nonetheless, I decided to listen in on what else she'd have to say.
She went on about the languages he'd have to learn by the time he got to 1st standard, and the report cards that would come to us. Then, she suddenly shifted gears to talk about their extra curricular activities.
"We're not only about studies", she said with a triumphant smile. "To the regular time table, different activities are plugged in, on a weekly basis. We have swimming, Taekwondo, tennis, dramatics, art.." Contrary to being impressed, we found all of this ridiculous. Though we were in favor of extra curricular activities, we weren't in favor of forcing our child into activities that he wasn't interested in. So if Adiv didn't want to swim, I didn't see why he had to. I would have been happier if she'd spoken about finding out where a child's interests lay, before steering him towards these activities.
She also stressed on the importance of reading. Being an avid reader, I couldn't agree more. I didn't however agree with their need to force the habit of reading.
"Once a week the kids will spend an entire day in the library", she said.
Though I wanted Adiv to read, and i'd tried to inculcate these habit by reading to him, I didn't quite picture him sitting quietly in a library for an entire day.
Finally, she began talking about their air conditioned buses and their breakfasts and lunches. "Since he will be in nursery, you only need to pay for his breakfast", she added. "Lunch will begin only from class 1.
Then it was time for the fee structure. She hurridly brought out a sheet of paper, to show us the figures. "If you give us 50K now, we'll block a seat now", she said before rushing out the door.
"If you want a tour, i'll get someone to show you the place."
Then she vanished. As we stood around waiting, a bored office boy guided us to the nursery section. We peeked into all three classes and by then the office boy had vanished as well.
"So I guess we don't get to see the celebrated pools and tennis courts", I told Ro.
We laughed and walked out. We knew instantly that a place that was indifferent to our child wasn't the place for him.
*
From this school, we drove to another that had asked us to come in before 4 o'clock. Despite being asked to come, we weren't allowed past the main gate. "Apply, and if we call you, you can come check out the place", said someone on the phone, at the security desk. Slightly annoyed, we left. During the drive back, we decided we'd let Adiv continue in his current school. While he finished nursery, we'd hopefully find the right school for him. We just needed to do more research. We weren't floored by the sprawling grounds, the pools, the horse riding, and the fancy lunches. We only wanted a school with good teachers who'd make learning fun. A good teacher was all one needed, because she'd encourage thinking, understand differences, and celebrate individual talents. So now we're searching for a school that focuses on the child, and not on the facilities, the 5-star meals, and the nike shoes.

One Difficult Question

2010-11-24T02:52:00.001-08:00

The curious toddler has now grown into a thinking young man. From the time he wakes up, to the the time he falls asleep, Adiv has questions. "What? Why? How? When?" Despite ocassionally feigning irritation, I'm mostly fascinated by how his mind works. He now wonders about the clouds and who filled them with water, if Elmo was born without teeth (ahem...and a peepee), if some dogs can talk, how batteries work, if he can flatten dough with tongs, if the plant really cries when he plucks a flower etc etc. The questions are neverending, and I try as patiently as I can, to answer all of them, even if it means I have to read up on the sharks and dinosaurs, among other things.
Nonetheless, every now and then, you encounter a question that you need to answer cautiously. Luckily he never asked me how babies were born. I guess Ice Age 3 took care of that. With rapt attention he watched the mammoth Ellie strain, scream, and push out her baby. He then declared that babies came from legs, in a tone that suggested no doubt. However, the trip to Hyderabad a week ago, brought along questions that were more difficult to answer; questions about death.
It was Rohit's dad's first death anniversary, and the family gathered for a small, but beautiful prayer meeting. Rohit took the week off, and we stayed in his house in Hyderabad, where Adiv had a blast with his cousins. From the time we got there, he began calling out to Rohit's dad. "Big Dada, where are you?" He knew we were going to Big Dada's house, but he was confused about why we had the keys to the house. "Where is everyone", he asked me, wearing a puzzled expression on his face.
I explained Rohit's mom and sister would arrive the next day, and that Big Dada was now with Jesus. He seemed temporarily satisfied, and the old cars on the shelf served as a distraction. When Rohit's sister's children arrived, he was ecstatic. He explained to them that Big Dada was with Jesus now, and then went on to show them his toys.
Then on the day of the anniversary, we went to pay our respects at the cemetry. The kids were given bouquets to place over the tombstone, when one of the older kids asked if this is where her grandfather was buried. Adiv who was listening, seemed unnerved when Rohit's mom said "Yes."
"What place is this", he asked me.
I didn't know what to say. "Big Dada is resting here and then his soul went to be with Jesus", I said sounding rather lame. I knew he didn't understand "soul", and I hoped he'd stop thinking about it. He didn't. He stood beside the grave and said, "Big Dada, get up and come here". The other kids began distracting him and soon they were chasing after a puppy, and running from a row of beggars who called out loudly for our attention. The priest was late, and soon the kids were bored and hot. Luckily, I'd come armed with water. Then one of the kids began reading from the other tombstones. She read out verses, names, ages, and began telling us about them. I walked with them, slightly unnerved by those graves that had pictures of the people who'd died. I looked respectfully at faces that stared back at me, and followed Adiv who'd begun to understand perhaps that he was in a place where lots of people lay beneath tombstones. He was getting cranky, and he insisted he wanted to leave. "We'll go", I assured him, hoping the priest would arrive quickly. Luckily, the priest arrived, and after a small prayer, we were ready to leave.
As we were leaving, we encountered a group of mourners who'd come to bury a loved one. Ro steered Adiv away from the crowd, and got him outside.
Adiv never mentioned that trip to the graveyard again. The rest of that week was filled with memorable games with his cousins, rides on the scooter, trips to the terrace where he drew faces on the floor with chalk, and several dance performances to the tunes of popular Bollywood songs.
I'm relieved for now, but I bracing myself for more questions. Even though I believe he is too young to be told about death, I know I'll have to handle the question when it comes again!

Mister Friendly

2010-10-23T06:30:00.001-07:00

If you know Adiv, you know how friendly he can get. As a parent, I wish he'd be more wary of strangers, but he is relentless in his attempts at befriending strangers. He begins with a smile, and then begins mimicking Iron Man. He puts on his invisible Iron Man suit, takes on a serious expression, and stomps forward. Then he aims his hand at the stranger who is either immersed in an interesting book or engaged in serious conversation. A few grunts, big smiles and "I am Iron Man" later, he has succeeded in making a friend.

The return trip from Chennai was no less eventful. I hoped he'd sleep, after which Ro and I would fish out our books from my bulging bag. However, he was excited about what the "food man" would bring. After drinking some juice, he noticed a man on another seat watch a movie on his laptop.

He jumped off my lap and said, "I am going to see a movie."

He slowly inched his way forward, smiled, said Hi. Soon he was on that man's lap watching Three Idiots. The friendly man was even forced to give him his headphones. So when the songs began, Adiv sang along loudly. The man responded by clapping. "You sing really well", he said. During the course of the movie, they even played boxing. Adiv eventually got tired and came back to us after announcing that he'd been boxing with the "scary man." I was horrified.

Adiv is just as friendly with people who visit the house; the vegetable vendor, the security guard with a notice, the gas man, the store man who brings groceries, and the occasional bank representative. The man from a bank who made an dishevelled appearance this afternoon, didn't seem particularly keen on chatting with a two-year-old. He merely wanted us to be done with the signatures, so he could finish his work and head home. Adiv smiled, spoke loudly, and sang a few songs, but he got no smiles. Finally, as a last resort he took him a small eclaire and said, "Want a small piece? We share?" That brought a smile on the man's tired face. Adiv ofcourse didn't wait for a response, and the eclaire was in his mouth in a second. Nonetheless, the man seemed to be in a better mood after that.

The bank representatives in Chennai (while we were visiting my parents) were more forthcoming. One of them even sat down on the carpet, so Adiv could show him his cars. They played for a bit, drank juice (after saying "Cheers"), spoke (the man got quite emotional when he told us he'd never been given toys like this to play with when he was a child) and left amidst elaborate goodbyes. An older man who arrived much later was less friendly, but when my Dad left the room to get a cheque, Adiv pretended he was a ferocious dinosaur. He growled and crawled to the amused man. When he smiled, Adiv asked him what his name was, and if he could sit with him.

Though i like it that Adiv is friendly and has no inhibitions, I'm sometimes uncomfortable. It doesn't help my paranoia, when I see him bond with a strangers who offer him chocolates and attempt to carry him. So now i've begun giving him the talk. No taking anything from strangers. No going with strangers. I'd like to protect him from the bad world, I need him to be safe and not so trusting.

Fighting the Flab

2010-09-17T02:32:00.000-07:00

I'm no fitness freak, though I begin each month with the decision to diet and exercise. Then we'd either get invited to a meal somewhere, or we'd try out a new restaurant in the vicinity. Sometimes even the weather plays fiend, when it rains, making my morning walks impossible. Nonetheless, I tried for a while. Ro was instructed to wake me up in the morning (rudely if required) and pay no heed to my protests. I'd eventually wake up, put on my shoes, hook myself onto the walkman, and walk around the building. When this routine got boring, I ventured out. I was welcomed to the sight of cows grazing illegally on a vacant plot, and tea shops bustling with activity. Little grocery shops were ministering to a tiny trickle of customers, while the only barber shop on that road, pulled up its shutters. IT professionals drove past or walked towards the bus stop, while I walked by enjoying the sights. However, after a while, even this proved to be monotonous. And, with the onset of the rains, I had another excuse to stay home.

Then, when Adiv began school I suddenly found myself free for two hours. I dropped him off at school and waited in the car with two crossword puzzles, a book, my breakfast, and a phone. I enjoyed this alone time, but I also began nursing the possibility using this time to go exercise. I just needed to find a gym close to the school.

I took along Ro and Adiv to a gym I'd seen not too far away from school. The board that read "Fitness Studio", pointed to an old dilapidated building. Hesitantly, we walked up the narrow staircase that was caked with layers of dust and the remnants of notices that had once been plastered along its side. Careful not to touch the railing, we continued walking, ignoring the paan marks, the hand prints, and the handwritten proclamations of love on the wall. Eventually, two flights later, we got to the gym that was filled with equipment that looked unused and abandoned. On one side, two muscle men got up and give us their chairs.

"Please sit", said one, while rummaging through the contents of a drawer. Eventually he fished out a worn on price list.

One Month: 1000 Rs

Three Months: 2500 Rs

.........................................

I feigned some enthusiasm, while Ro asked a few questions. Then we left. This wasn't the place for me. By then we'd spotted another gym on one of the bylanes. So we decided to try that out. Conviniently located beside a sweet stall, the staircase to this gym was a lot cleaner. On either side were pictures of very fit people exercising. Notices about the next kickboxing class, the aerobics class, and the dance classes filled the walls. Right on top, we were welcomed to the sight of a spacious, airy gym. A few women who'd just finished their workout were leaving, while we got in. A few still ran tirelessly on threadmills, while a few men lifted weights and stood around chatting. A friendly instructor came forward, this time bringing me a fancier price list. Deciding I like this place better, I paid up immediately and promised to return the following Monday.

Then I rushed out, bought some appropriate gym wear, and indulged in some calories. Afterall, I was going to begin gyming from Monday.
*
My first day was eventful. I walked in happily, after fighting the sweet odours emnating from the sweet shop next door. After warming up, I was led to a treadmill that I walked on cautiously, gradually increasing the speed. This was followed by ten minutes on the stepper, and another ten on the cycle. I was largely oblivious to the people around me, paying full attention to my reflection. I was going to shed some weight at get clothes. Perhaps I could work on shedding some weight before the next gettogether. Could I work on the treadmill and also go for walks? As I sweated, my weight loss ambitions grew bigger.
After a month in this gym, I noticed a nicer gym that had opened up right next to Adiv's school. If I got a membership there, I'd just have to drop Adiv and walk to the gym. So without wasting any time, I went to check out the place. This time, I was welcomed to the sight of newly bought equipment and 5 eager trainers. I was one of the first few people to get a membership and they were excited. They filled me in on their plans.
"We're going to start aerobics."
"We'll give everyone personalized training."
Excitement of this kind is often contagious. So I paid up immediately, and promised to return the next morning.
The next morning, I was led to the treadmill, where I walked for a few minutes before the trainer urged me to run. I did, only to stop few minutes later, huffing and panting. Then I was led into another room to carry weights, and do various exercises for the belly and feet. The enthusiastic trainer who needed to be reminded that it was time for me to to pick up Adiv, also urged me to diet and cut out the junk. I promised to try.
It's been a month in this place now, and I quite like it. Now I run comfortably on the treadmill and enjoy the strenuous exercises. I haven't been the most regular, but I look forward to staying fit and healthy. Since I began, more people have joined the fitness center, and I've even made a new friend in the process.

Teachers; a trip down memory lane

2010-09-07T02:52:00.000-07:00

This teacher's day, I drove Adiv to several florists, before finding flowers that he liked. He gathered them in his arms (one for each teacher) and marched into school wearing a very pleased smile. The teachers gave him encouraging yelps of surprise, thereby doubling his pleasure. "Happy Teacher Day", he said carefully. Two minutes earlier, he'd said, "Happy Birthday Teacher day?"! However, this time he got it right.
*
I have distant memories of my first teacher, who tirelessly taught us rhymes in the most comical fashion. My father had been transferred to a little district in Assam, Cachar, where we endured several terrifying cyclones, and acquired numerous friends. There were few schools in the vicinity, and the only one that showed any promise had a very enthusiastic teacher who multi-tasked. She sang her rhymes loudly and clearly, while spelling every letter in the song.
"H-I-C-K, Hick, O-R-Y, Hickory...D-I-C-K, Dick, O-R-Y, Dickory....."
While I sat by the window, looking for any sign of my mom, this teacher sang to a class full of toddlers who would begin to spell before they began to talk.
After a four-year long stint in Assam, we moved to a dusty and dry township in Tamil Nadu. After the hills of Assam, the rains that ravaged rooftops, and the gardens that often had sightings of wild animals, Neyveli was a drastic change. This peaceful little township with the ageing bunglows and the barren gardens, had one popular CBSE school. It was run by a principal who was greatly feared. His morning assemblies notoriously went on for hours, when he would read out marks and humiliate students who hadn't done as well. He even had a special team of teachers who made sudden appearances in homes to check on students who were in their 12th. We were given tons of homework, that we finished, for fear of being dragged out in assembly. From that era, I only remember a teacher who taught Social studies (very well) with a pronounced tamilian accent, and a sullen Math teacher who scribbled furiously on the board and let it be known that she hated Christians.
A year in Kerala after Neyveli was a wonderful change. My new school was friendlier, and less intimidating. I found my voice and joined the choir. I even took small parts in an Independance Day play where I only had to drop dead. I made several friends, and began enjoying myself. Here again, it was my History teacher that I loved the most. She brought every character to life, making every war exciting. I joined the music class, and made futile attempts at stitching embroidery at the Arts and Craft class. After this year, I moved to the southern tip of India. Nagercoil (close to Kanyakumari) was what I needed to rejuvenate my soul. Despite rebelling about the frequent transfers, I loved it here. The only CBSE school there was run by a dreamer who wanted to make huge changes. He encouraged Shakespeare, music, drama, inter-school competitions, and a whole lot of fun. For classrooms we had little hut like buildings. For teachers, who had people who shared the principal's vision of how he wanted to bring change. Many of us thrived in this environment. It was here that I was encouraged to sing, attempt bigger parts in plays, read, and learn. Sadly, by the end of the year, my Dad had to move again.
This time we were moving to a bigger city. Chennai was bustling and crowded after quaint, peaceful Nagercoil where everyone knew almost everyone else. Nonetheless, I took to this city almost immediately. I liked the pace with which it moved, and I still had access to music teachers and libraries. School however was another nightmare. As we were always on the move, looked for CBSE schools. The one we joined did wonders for my brother, but did quite the opposite for me. From enjoying music and literature, I was suddenly thrust in an enviroment that was fiercely competitive. The class was divided into two sections. You were either working towards finding a seat in IIT or a university in the US, or you were well aquainted with the latest trends and fashions. As I fit into neither, I remained the outsider till I finished school. Here, the kids used their play time to finish up homework. Sadistic Math teachers gave up to 400 problems a day as homework. I struggled with homework, the frequent tests, the pressure. Students walked around saying they wanted to be brain surgeons and cardiologists, while I merely wanted to write and read. However, in the midst of that nightmare I found my silver lining. She was my classteacher and a strict one at that. She tolerated no nonsense, and had at some point made us all cry. Nonetheless, she transformed into a completely different being, when she explained poetry. If she seemed heartless and tough normally, she was mellow, gentle, and full of empathy, where she discussed poetry. It was then that I began to understand that her tough exterior was probably just a facade. Beneath the layers lived a gentle soul, who was never going to let her guard down. Thanks to her, I realized i wanted to study literature. I enjoyed it, and that was all that mattered.
In college, I finally met the teacher who'd teach me the biggest lesson of all. She insisted it was okay to be different, and not fit in. She encouraged us to read, make our own interpretations, and be brave enough to voice them. Then there was another, who taught us feminist literature. She repeatedly told us that we didn't need to fit into socially accepted, stereotypical moulds. She insisted we could lead complete, wholesome, successful lives, even without a man. We just had to be independant, strong, and confident.
While several teachers had given us the skills required to get to college, only these two had imparted life skills. They didn't feign interest in the sciences and seem apologetic about their fondness for literature. They didn't measure success by the the amount of money one would make, or colleges people went to. If you were happy doing what you did, you were just as successful. With that knowledge came a certain confidence that has stayed on for years after that.
Now that Adiv has started school, I'm pleased he has a nice trio of teachers who are kind, gentle, and funny. They seem to understand that every child is difference, and that difference is what is celebrated with the opportunities that are given to the kids. Nonetheless, as there is a long road ahead, I can only hope Adiv will have teachers who will be positive influences, imparting the life skills that he will require to a successful human being, and not just a successful professional.

The House Guest

2010-07-31T18:21:00.001-07:00

This weekend we had a very special guest. I'd met him briefly a few days ago, on the day he'd landed from the US. Jet lagged and exhausted from all the travel, he went straight to the diwan, curled up and slept. When it was time to leave, he was prompted to say Hi.
"Hi", he said.
I had to refrain from going forward and touching him, as I'd normally have done with any child. Nonetheless, I knew autistic children were particular about having people in their space. So I was going to wait till he allowed me in.

A few days later, when he came to stay with his mother, I was apprehensive. His mother was going to leave him with us for a day, while she went out shopping. Also, I wasn't sure if he'd take to Adiv who is relentlessly demonstrative and chatty. I wasn't sure of how we'd console him if he missed his mother. He didn't play with toys, so we wouldn't be able to distract him with anything. He only listened to a DVD of the Wiggles, an aussie band. I didn't have to worry so much about food, as his mom would bring along his stash of comfort foods; some organic jelly beans and gluten free cereal and rice cakes.

When he finally arrived, he flashed us his winning smile, and charged right in. He ran from room to room, exploring. He touched everything that came along the way. He felt the water can, Adiv's toy horse, the walls, and the cushions. He even felt Adiv's hair and smelt it. Adiv stayed close, saying Hi repeatedly and smiling. He got on his horse and called out to him.
"Sit with me", said Adiv.
The 8-year-old got on behind him. A few seconds later, he lost interest. He ran around, followed by his mother who made sure he didn't drop or throw anything. After some running around, he climbed on to the bed, and snuggled up between the sheet and the mattress. Adiv was ecstatic. Why hadn't he thought of that before? Then they both jumped on the diwan like two happy kids. However, Adiv was in his space for a bit too long, and he responded by pushing him off the diwan. My heart skipped a beat, but luckily Adiv landed on a pile of cushions. "Keep Adiv away. He doesn't understand that Adiv is a baby", explained the mother apologetically.
"Adiv is fine", we assured her. We understood it wasn't his fault, but we had to be careful.
*
By the time I woke up the next morning, our little guest was at the table eating his cereal. With some prompting, he turned to me and said Hi. After breakfast, he came close and held my hand.
"Hi there", I said gently. He pulled to the kitchen. He was curious about the pressure cooker, and all the activity in the kitchen. We put on his DVD for him, while he ran around feeling things, smelling hair, and poking cushions. I attempted to distract him with one of Adiv's videos, but he was bored. So the Wiggles were1 back on. Even though he'd seen it thousands of times, he loved it, chuckling happily on his mother's lap.
When she left for her outting, we were worried, but he seemed fine. If he sensed she'd left, he didn't seem upset. We watched him and Adiv in turns, before he was fed lunch. He enjoyed his broccoli, and ate up some rice with a teaspoon of dal and veggies. After lunch, he was given a pill to calm him down. As he was already getting comfortable with Rohit, he was able to rock him to sleep. Adiv wasn't very pleased though. Adiv insisted that Rohit carry him. And when Rohit was feeding him broccoli, Adiv emphatically declared, "I like cauliflowers also." While I attempted to entertain Adiv, he said angrily, "This is my house. Tell him to go."
*
In the evening we were all intending to go out to dinner. The little boy hadn't yet woken up, and we were beginning to wonder if we should wake him up for a meal. He hadn't eaten in 7 hours, and was sure to be hungry. When he refused to wake up, we employed other tactics like switching on the light (he'd burrow himself further beneath the comforter) and putting a grain of rice on his lip. We weren't sure if he knew he was hungry, and hoped a taste of the food would get him to wake up. He didn't, and that's when we discovered he was running a temperature. Then we made more desperate attempts to wake him up. We knew he didn't like liquid medicines, but we only had liquid Tylenol. So while Rohit held him, I poured in a teaspoon of Tylenol little by little. He didnt' seem to mind it. By the time his diaper and clothes were changed and he was fed, his mother came back. He flashed her a happy, bright smile and climbed onto her lap. They were leaving in a bit, and his mother got busy packing. Meanwhile Adiv was lying around pretending to be very ill. In a medicine cup, I poured him some juice and coaxed him to drink it as we'd done with the older fellow. Adiv wrapped himself in a blanket and said loudly, "I also very sick."
Adiv was happy to see the 8-year-old leave. He now had his mother and father to himself. However, Rohit and I missed the little fellow. We hadn't spent a lot of time with him, but we'd grown used to him. In his own way he'd begun displaying affection. He would casually climb onto Rohit's lap, or pull me along to show me something. Though we were strangers, he had warmed up to us. When it was time to leave, he surprised me with a hug, a smile, and eye-contact.
*
In a week's time they'd leave for the US again. I wondered when we'd see him again.
"When we go to the US, we will go see him", said Rohit.

Magical Birthdays

2010-07-27T23:17:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I welcomed another birthday in, amidst much singing (Adiv), presents (Rohit), and phone calls (friends and family). Adiv and I were equally excited, posing for pictures, blowing candles, and finally cutting a cake. Adiv wasn't so excited about my presents though.
"No car?", he asked sympathetically!
*
Birthdays have always been big in my house. As children, my brother and I always got parties. We'd wake up to presents, and then find our mother baking. Our parents would then work on the cake together, icing it, decorating it, and then sliding it into the fridge. We would hurry to school with chocolates for our friends, and gush about the party later in the evening. A small group of close friends were always invited back home for a movie, food, and ofcourse cake. We'd play games and dance to popular tunes. After the guests left, we'd then excitedly open up presents. We'd then go to sleep, dreaming about the wonderful day we'd had.
This went on for many years, till I actually left home. My first birthday away from home, I missed my mother's cake, but my roomies made up for the absence of family. In our modest kitchen, they made me a huge omelet with a generous helping of cheese, onions, and tomatoes. At night, we got dressed up and went out to dinner. The pictures from that night still bring a smile to my face.
After college, when I was working in Chennai, my mother began baking again. However, I didn't have friends over. Instead, I took them out. One year, my friends pretended they hadn't remembered my birthday. They put together a bouquet apologetically, and gave me generous hugs. Just when I'd stopped pretending that I didn't care, the surprises followed.

Post marriage, Rohit has been doing a great job of surprising me on my birthday. The first year, I got presents all day long (as I did yesterday. Grin). He always got me what I wanted, and gave them when I was least expecting them. This year I also had Adiv who sang excitedly for me.
"Happy Birthday Mimi. Happy Birthday Kuttu", he added happily. Before going to school, he made me promise that I'd bake a cake.
"Put sprinkles on top", he added, before he said bye.
Luckily for him, in addition to the cake I baked, Rohit's little nieces brought another cake. So Adiv cut that one as well, pointing out portions of the cake that he wanted to eat.
I want that "A".
"B now."
"What is that", he exclaimed pointing to a piece of fruit on the cake.
"Guava", said Rohit. "You want it?"
"I don't like."
"Give me pink piece."
At night, when we went to bed, Adiv wanted to know when he'd have his next birthday.
"January", I said.
"Hmm", he responded, with a smile on his face.
While he dozed off, I began thinking about my gym instructor. I'd need to work really hard, to get rid of the calories I'd gained on my birthday alone.
*Sigh*

Play Time

2010-07-09T20:42:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago, we saw Toy Story 3 in a theatre. We hoped Adiv would sit through the movie, because he loves Woody, Buzz Light Year, and Jesse. As added incentives, we got him some popcorn and a glass of the forbidden, "Fizzy Fanta"! When the movie began, he was ecstatic.
"Woody and Buzz in BEEEEEEEG TV", he said excitedly. "What's that? Who is that?", he continued during the course of the movie. But as the theatre was filled with noisy kids, we had little to be embarassed about. In the movie we saw toys who were trying to escape the cruelties of toddlers. These toddlers ran in, threw toys around, dunked them in paint, licked them, and threw them in the air. Adiv was not very different. As he seemed to enjoy the movie, I hoped he would now be gentler with his toys.
"Toys are scared of kids like you", I told him. "Be gentle"!
He responded by flinging Elmo in the air and speeding off in his car.
-----
Adiv is a curious toddler who enjoys dismantling (read destroying) his toys. He opens up tiny cars to check who is driving. He destroyed a rather fancy bus, just so he could put two of the little people inside it together. He said he'd torn off the top of another car, just so he could make place for himself in it. Despite all this destruction, he has his quieter moments when he sits with his hot wheels collection, or sings to baby Pooh and Elmo. He has a name for all his stuffed toys, and often props them on the bed beside himself, when he watches "The Dark Knight" (his favorite flick).
Luckily for him it is Christmas all year long. With grandparents, aunts and uncles, showering him with presents, we don't really have to shop for toys. However, recently when he began giving me make believe coffee and sambar in his building blocks, I decided to get him a cookery set.
*
Rohit and I don't believe in stereotyping toys as boy toys and girl toys. Adiv loves his cars and guns, as much as he enjoys making us tea or chicken curry in his cooking set. Rohit's side of the family has men who enjoy cooking all kinds of exotic cuisine. Rohit is quite the accomplished cook himself (Errr..Chef I mean). So we happily thought he was probably showing the beginnings of an interesting culinary journey. In his little plastic plates he served chicken curry, rice, and fried fish one afternoon. Then he made me lime juice that was served with ice.
"Yummy", I responded.
"Want some more?"
"I'm full", I said patting my belly.
He then put away his utensils and got back to his cars.
"Unkoo bring 20 cars for Kuttu", he said.
"Only if you stop destroying them."
"No breaking. No throwing", he promised.

Then a few days later, when we were shopping for a niece, he began asking for a Barbie doll. He'd seen Barbie in the Toy Story movies, and a few others (in various states of undress) with his girl cousins. "I want Barbie", he said.
Someone who heard said, "No, dolls are for girls. Not for boys."
"Why not", I thought, but I was very curious about what games he would play with his barbie.
"He'll pull her hair out and break her legs", warned Rohit.
"Maybe he'll be gentle. He is very gentle with the babies in the play area", i reasoned.
I had vague memories of a little boy who bent his Barbie and used her like a gun. Nonetheless I was curious about whether the need to shoot and fight were inborn boy traits. Were little girls born with a maternal trait that led to them singing songs to their dolls and combing their hair? Did we as parents make kids the way they were, by giving them what was traditionally a boy toy or a girl toy? Could I only blame stores that kept gender specific toys and ensured that girl clothes had pink? Why didn't we ever see boys play with dolls in advertisements? Did I want Adiv to think he was less of a boy just because he wanted to play with a doll? I didn't. However, i wasn't sure I wanted him to break her limbs and paint her orange.
So I decided to ask Adiv what games he wanted Barbie to play. He said he merely wanted to take her for a ride on his bike. Sounds peaceful enough, I thought.
"I'll give him my old Barbie", I told Rohit. "I have it somewhere at home."
"Only if you are okay with her being ruined", warned Rohit.
"Adiv want Barbie", said Adiv loudly, as a reminder.
"Okay", I said. If he was good with the Barbie, i'd probably give him a favorite old imported doll that sang songs.
For now he is throwing baby bear in the air to see if the bear will land on the fan.

I want to go there

2010-07-08T02:22:00.000-07:00

Mommy's Little Wild Child (Adiv) and I love the camera. I attribute his fondness to the fact that I've spent a lot of time hovering around him, capturing every mood and every event. So, like any seasoned celeb, he has now learnt to pose, even flashing special smiles reserved for the camera.

Since Adiv's birth , I always made sure the batteries to my camera were charged and ready. So by default, all family events and outings were also documented. I got every wedding, gettogether, outing, and holiday we were at. Everywhere I went, I carried my camera, capturing fun moments. Later, I'd show Adiv these pictures, and tell him about the people who featured in them.

"Remember A-mach? That was taken when he came to stay?"

"That is the appacha we met him in Kerala."

"That is the aunty who gave you that little Santa."

He'd smile and nod.

Both Rohit and I have family scattered all over the world. So if we wanted Adiv to know all the people who were important to us, we showed him their pictures. However, his two-year-old narcissistic mind was understandably more interested in himself.

"Kuttu wearing party hat."

"Kuttu riding horsey. So funny."

"Kuttu touching deer."

He was however very excited to see the people he knew.

"There. Look. Pappa and Ammama", he said pointing to my parents in a picture.

"I want to go there".

"Okay, when you have holidays, we'll get tickets and go to Chennai", I promise.

"OKay"

"Mimi, where is Unkoo", he said, suddenly remembering the uncle (my brother Ash) who made yearly appearances, but had confirmed his place in Adiv's memory with several toys and a big dose of pampering.

"He is in America. Remember he went by plane?"

"I want to see Unkoo picture."

I found a picture of Unkoo and Adiv, that brought a smile on his face. Then he said, "I want to go there."

Adiv said that about most pictures and videos that he saw of himself. He'd laugh at the picture of himself with his cousins singing by the pool and say, "I want to go there."He'd smile at a picture from his birthday party and say, "I want to go there." He'd point to a picture of himself on a cart ride with his cousin and say, "I want to go there." He even wanted to relive the games he played with cousins, by his grandaunt's stair case, and eat cake that was made on his birthday. "I want to go there", he said stubbornly.

"You can't", I smile. "But you will have more birthdays, more trips to Chennai, and more fun sessions with the cousins" I offer.

"No. Now"

I then resorted to distracting him.

"Where is that horsey of yours?"

"There", he said happily, jump off my lap and climb on to the horse.

This conversation with Adiv, got me thinking about a cousin's son. On his 6th birthday, he'd announced that it was the best day of his life. His amused father then told him that his life had just begun and he'd have many more wonderful days in the future. Likewise, I thought of how Adiv would have more birthdays, more outings with family, and more games with his cousins in the future. Those fun moments would eventually become fond memories like the ones in these pictures, making way for more fun times in the future. Feeling rather optimistic, I decided to document this moment with a picture. However, Adiv was busy watching a video of himself. In the video he spotted a toy from a year ago and said, "I want to go there and take that."

Mimi's Day Out (in School)

2010-06-07T05:46:00.000-07:00

We were guided into a teeny room furnished with teeny, colorful tables and chairs. The walls were covered paintings, and a string of colorful cutouts ran across the center of the room. The shelves were arranged with picture books and workbooks. A blackboard at the corner bore today's date, and a few alphabets. A thin wall separated this room from the next one, where all the play group kids were having their hour-long session. We heard lots of screaming from all directions. Many of the children cried for their mothers, while teachers made futile attempts at distracting them with toys and songs. Few of us let out sighs of relief, because we hadn't yet heard our children crying. I wasn't apprehensive in the least bit, because I knew that if Adiv was upset he'd be screaming now. I smiled sweetly at an aayah who walked past. When she walked past again, I asked if she'd peek in and check on Adiv.
"He is playing with a car", she said when she returned.
"You are lucky he is okay", came a voice from the room I was in. A mother who could hear her son weeping piteously, came forward for assurances from me.
"They'll be fine in a few days, right", she asked. She seemed close to tears, but was holding on. "They will be fine", I assured her. "The teacher is very good." Another mother walked out. "I can't listen to this anymore", she said and settled down outside the gate.
"Why don't you mothers leave and return after an hour", offered the center head gently. "You won't feel so terrible if you are away."
"No", came a collective response.
I stood around with my book. I muttered a small prayer. I hoped Adiv would continue to enjoy school. I'd put him in a dinosaur teeshirt, that he wanted to show his teacher. I had also explained to him that I'd be waiting outside.
"No. Mimi come inside", he had said emphatically.
"No I can't. The chairs in your class are small. I'll wait outside on a bigger chair".
That seemed to satisfy him. He went in with a smile, but ran out twice crying for me.
"I'm still waiting here", I assured him. "I'll still be here when you're done playing", I explained while he cried.
Five minutes later, he'd settled down. Meanwhile I sent Ro several SMSes with updates.
"No crying anymore."
"Running out"
"Playing with a car"
Meanwhile, the mothers and I bonded outside. We spoke about our kids, and comforted eachother. "They'll be fine. Once they make friends, they'll begin enjoying themselves."
Amidst all the crying, we heard some singing. I was glad the teachers were singing. Adiv loved music and he was sure to calm down.
"Your son is calm. He is playing", said a mother who'd decided to peek in on her child.
"Phew", I said. "What about your daughter?"
"She is still crying", she said.
Minutes later, two of the mothers were called in. Their kids who were crying uncontrollably had thrown up. The rest of us mothers watched the flurry of activity from the classroom to the bathroom and back. I said another little prayer.
"Oh God, please let Adiv be okay."
As the longest hour finally came to an end, the kids slowly walked out with their bags.
"Hi there", I said enthusiastically to Adiv, who responded with a big smile.
"Oh Ho, jacket inside", he said and went back to get his denim jacket. Waving goodbyes to everyone we then left.
Now i'm getting ready for another day.

Playing Khan

2010-06-02T05:15:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago we saw "My Name is Khan". The DVD came neatly packed in a case, and we settled to watch it immediately. I was most curious because of the hype. Even people who didn't like Shahrukh Khan was professing love for the man after this film. Some said he was better than Tom Hanks in "Forrest Gump". Some said this was Karan Johar's best. Sadly, I was very disappointed. Like all Karan Johar films, this one was made only for it's protagonist. It didn't matter than the script was bad, or that the numerous other characters weren't well-rounded and complete. Nonetheless, this post isn't a review. It is about Adiv, and how he gave the film it's own happy ending.
*
When we watched the movie, he sat on the bed between us with his cars. He played quietly, only jumping up to dance during the song sequences. However certain scenes got his attention. He sat glued to the screen when Mandira's son was attacked by the bullies in his school. He is kicked and beaten up. The football that is kicked onto his body finally kills him. The first time we saw that scene, Adiv was upset. He told me he was very sad. I assured him that the achacha was fine. We then saw the boy being wheeled into emergency, where doctors attempt to revive him. He doesn't make it. The time of his death is announced, and his mother screams and weeps over his young body. After the movie, I played the happy scenes again, to assure Adiv that the achacha was now better and busy celebrating his birthday. "Where is achacha", he asked every two minutes.
The next few days, we continued to watch a song from the movie, where the boy is seen enjoying a surprise birthday party. "Achacha fine", said Adiv happily. Soon enough, when "The Hangover" arrived in another neat package, the tiger in that movie got his attention. The Achacha from "My Name is Khan" was forgotten. So now he was watching "The Hangover" in mute (too much of the F word). He'd watch only the scenes with the tiger, and then ask for Barney or Batman. I was relieved.
Then last week, he began a new game. He brought him his ball and said, "throw ball". I assumed he wanted to play catch. However, instead of attempting to catch the ball, he'd fall to the ground very dramatically. "Achacha in pain", he explained.
"Mimi doctor make achacha alright", he said emphatically.
Then I realized he was enacting the scene from "My Name is Khan". I picked him up, put him on my lap, massaged his belly a few times during which he thrust his body forward. Then I'd tickle him and say, "achacha alright."
"Yaaay, achacha alright", he'd repeat happily and we'd do a jig.
We enacted this scene over and over again, till he was very satisfied. We even gave Rohit a demo when he returned from school.
Fortunately now that school has begun, the Khan phase is slowly being replaced by the school phase. Now our little man is more interested in Barney and Baby Bop's pretend school.
"Where is Barney", he asked his teacher yesterday.
"Baby Bop bringing Mac and Cheese?", he enquired when his classmate's mother brought out some biscuits.
So for now I think he is fine, but we've got to be verrrrrrrrry careful about what we watch on TV while he is around.

Like Mother, Like Child

2010-05-11T23:36:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day was fun! My mother was in town, and the family was still celebrating a cousin's wedding. After lunch with the extended families on both sides (bride and groom), we got together with cups of tea, a guitar, lots of laughter, and some very contagious excitement. A few songs later, the living room had transformed into the dancing floor, and everyone was on it, doing their own version of the twist. Cameras clicked furiously, while we laughed, clapped, danced, and sang along. What fun!
All the mothers got hand drawn, personalized cards from Rohit's niece, and a group of us mothers and daughters indulged in a group hug. "It is fantastic being a daughter and a mother", chanted the leader of the troop.
Despite all the excitement, I couldn't but help wonder about how motherhood had changed me. I was less selfish, and everything I did revolved around Adiv. I wanted to be a better person because I was directly responsible for making Adiv the person that he would become. Interestingly, I was also aware of I was becoming more and more like my mother.
*
Growing up, I never understood why my mother had extended conversations with the help, the driver, the vegetable vendor, the ironing man, and the shopping assistants in stores. My life revolved around my family, friends, and my work, and I never felt the need for these bonding exercies. I barely even spoke to neighbours I couldn't relate to. I smiled politely and didn't feign the slightest interest in them. I teased my mother because she knew about the property feud in the driver's family, the maid's mother-in-law problems, and the ironing lady's issues with conception. She even visited our conservative brahmin neighbours during their festivals, and asked interested questions.
"Why do you care", I'd ask.
"They talk and I listen", she replied. It made them feel good because she didn't act superior or indifferent.

All my life I saw my parents attend all major events in the homes of our maids, drivers and watchmen. I even remember visiting a driver in his modest home. His family collected chairs from elsewhere so we could sit, and gave us plates filled with sweets. My brother and I were taught to give respect. We weren't allowed to think we were better than others who weren't as lucky as we were with our circumstances. I took much of this upbringing for granted till I became a parent myself.

Like my parents, Rohit and I insisted that Adiv respect anyone who was older, irrespective of how they lived. So while the help is called aunty, the driver and ironing man are both uncles. He is encouraged to share with them every time a packet of sweets is opened, and he isn't allowed to scream at them or hit them.
I've changed quite a bit as well. If I was disinterested earlier, I now engage in conversation like my mother does. I enquire about the ironing man's health, and applaud the maid's daughter's accomplishments in school. I even talk to the delivery man from the store nearby. Now that I run my own household, I realize that we can take noone for granted, and all these people who make our lives easier deserve respect and warmth. I try to be fair and considerate, though I can be quite the task master. I hope they are happy working for me, and I weep buckets (just like my mom) when they leave without notice.
"You are becoming me", jokes my mother.
I even run my home like she does, though I'd once have sworn that I'd do things differently. I even deal with people like she does; making an effort with those who seem so different from me. Like her, I try and give everyone a chance, and cover up any embarassment with incessant chatter. Every time I gulp down glasses of water when I'm nervous, I think about how she'd have done the exact same thing. Like her I cry when I'm angry, and confront those who are annoyed with us, with apologies and explanations. We both make few allowances for petty behaviour, and always reciprocate to the slightest hint of friendship. We are both fiercely protective mothers with a strong sense of what is right and wrong. We hate it when we are lied to, but we soften considerably when we hear a sob story.
As I wonder about all that I share with my mother, I hope Adiv will consciously and unconsciously pick from me all that is positive and right. I hope from me he picks the loyalty and not the temper, the sensitivity to people and not the sensitivity to seemingly harsh comments, the willingness to give everyone a chance and not the tendency to sometimes give up after that chance, the funny bone and not the inhibitions, and the willingness to try out everything on the buffet table, as opposed to sticking to the tried and tested.
Happy Mother's Day girls. Here's to becoming better mothers every day. I know we all try.
Clink!

Fight the Odds

2010-04-28T21:53:00.000-07:00

Years ago when I was going through a bad spell, a favorite cousin gave me a copy of the book "When bad things happen to good people." I was (still am) a fiction reader, and quite suspicious of anything that came in the guise of a "self-help" book. So it took me a while to read it. During the course of that read, the bad spell that had lingered on for a bit, died a sudden, miraculous death. By the time I'd read the last page, my faith in humanity and God had been restored.
The author, a rabbi had simply put together anecdotes to explain the work of God in our lives. He explained that when things went wrong, it wasn't God's doing. It wasn't your karma, or some sort of punishment for your deeds. So when a huriccane dislodged millions from their homes, and left them bankrupt, it wasn't God's wrath. However, when those people found the strength to pick themselves up, and rebuild their lives, it was God's work.
That idea was instrumental in encouraging me to bounce back. If the man who'd lost a lifetime's savings in a fire, and the lady who had lost family to a destructive Tsunami could do it, so could I. My problems paled in comparison, so I'd definitely find it easier. I had a strong support system consisting of friends and family, who gave me their continous support.

For inspiration I looked to people in the family. My dad had lost his sister and family to the Kanishka crash, my mom had lost her sister to cancer, and cousins had lost their mother to cancer when they were very young. Life hadn't been fair to those who'd survived, and yet they'd found the courage to wake up each morning, smile, and live. That had to be God's work.

Around me, I saw more tales of inspiration. A colleague-turned-friend had escaped years of physical and mental abuse by finally finding the strength to divorce her sadistic husband. If she was mild, young, and so hurt, she soon became stronger, independant, ambitious, and ready for love again. That had to be God's work.

During the course of those many years, I heard several stories about people who had fought the odds. I heard about the man who'd missed two air crashes. He'd lost his wife and daughters in the first one. He'd somehow managed to live past that tragedy. I saw Tsunami victims rebuild their lives with renewed faith in God and mankind. I heard about road accidents, that snuffed the life out of exuberant youngsters who left behind grieving families. Those families had lived to see another day. I felt the sorrow of all those who lost loved ones to meaningless terrorist attacks allover the world. The excrutiating pain of these people seems so terrifying. Was it enough for them to give up on people? Was it enough for them to end their lives and never hope for a happy future? It wasn't, and I often wondered how they found the strength. That had to be God's work.

I once asked a cousin how she was able to pray each day. She'd lost her son to a fatal asthmatic attack when he was only 6. Her eyes welled up, but she managed a smile. She said, "I think he was lucky. He died an innocent, missed all the cruelty in the world, and went straight to be with God. I miss him though. Now I focus on making sure my other child lives a good life, so we are all united eventually." It was that faith that urged her to wake up each morning, and live as God intended her to live. Many years later, the pain of losing a child lingers on, but she has found many reasons to live, celebrate, and look to the future with hope. That is God's work.

I'm in awe of all these amazing people (there are many many more), who continue to rise above their sorrows every day. This is probably why I have little sympathy for those who take the other route. They are disgruntled, unhappy people who nurture grudges, and give up completely on people. They aren't open to friendly gestures and rarely ever reciprocate. They live in self-created islands with a few people they love. They miss out on vital relationships because of their stubborness. Luckily for us, it isnt the end for them, and hopefully some day we'll see God's work in their lives.

Teething Trouble

2010-03-28T19:05:00.001-07:00

I began this weekend with a nerve-wracking, heart-thumping drive to the dentist's office. Luckily I didn't have to wait too long. I'd flipped two pages of a magazine, when I was called in. In followed the dentist in a daze. Minutes earlier, I'd just told Ro a story. During the Japanese invasion of Malaya, a Japanese soldier made a group of people (chinese and indian) dig a pit. The group was then ordered to stand in a line. One by one they were shot, and everytime someone was shot they fell into the pit they'd dug up themselves. I told Ro, waiting for the dentist made me feel like someone in that line, awaiting her turn.
Fortunately, I was just being dramatic. What followed was an annoying stiffness of the jaw, as I had my mouth open for two hours. Otherwise, the rootcanal and the filling were painless.
*
My escapades with dentists began when I was quite little. I have terrifying memories of screaming in fear and pain, when a not so sympathetic dentist knocked a painful tooth with one of his scary dental gadgets. I didn't open up again after that, and so I spent the rest the my evening whimpering into my mother's lap. A little later, when I was feeling brave, we visited a well-known dentist in Cochin, who did some work, showed off my smile to his team, and left me with root canal gone wrong, and a bloody mouth.
I was luckier in Chennai, when a friendly dentist looked into my mouth and began his treatment amidst kind words and gentle assurances.
"Let me know if it hurts."
"It will be over soon."
That sealed the deal, and I vowed my allegience to the man. The next many years, I visited him for all kinds of dental work. I waited my turn in his modest clinic, oblivious to the paint peeling off the walls. I flipped through the pages of outdated magazines, while I waited for his voice.
"Come in Roopa."
Over time, with every visit, as my teeth got better, his clinic began undergoing a slow, but steady makeover. He got himself another dental chair, an assistant, a bigger clinic with freshly painted walls, a receptionist who now booked all appointments, and recent editions of all magazines. The man even got himself a new wardrobe, and graduated from a motorbike to a fancy car. I was definitely his favorite patient; his eternal patient; his loyal patient. I even flew down from Pune, to get a painful tooth checked. I always needed work to be done; fillings, root canals, bridges....! By now he was even giving me offers.
"One root canal, one filling free."
Privately we joked about how he'd built a fortune on my mouth. However, since I was too scared to try out anyone else, I continued to go to him. No questions were asked.
*
Then there was a long break in our relationship. I was married and away. I was apprehensive about what I'd do if I needed to see a dentist elsewhere.
"What if I was forced to see someone else?"
"What if this man died. Who would I see then?"
Anyway, when I was pregnant and in need of more dental work, I waited till I got to Chennai. Happily, I booked my appointment and got there on time. He was visibly pleased to see me, and he welcomed me into his newly resurrected clinic. The waiting room was bigger and boasted of air conditioning. The walls were adorned with paintings he'd done himself. A stack of magazines lay in a rack, and beside the rack sat his receptionist on her important looking desk with a new phone and a notepad.
Inside, he'd divided his work area into cubicles. Each cubicle had a theme color. He now had five dental chairs with all the latest gadgetry. Two assistants hovered around him, as he moved from cubicle to cubicle on his sliding chair. As I lay with my mouth open, I stared at his version of the famous discourse between Arjuna and Krishna. The colors were a tad bit too bright, and not quite right against the pink walls. He spoke about how he'd been expecting to see me again.
"Tut tut. More fillings", he said happily.
However now I was older and not so blinded. "Why doctor? After all the work that has been done, and all the care I take, why do I continue to have bad teeth?"
"Perhaps it's the genes", he explained, satisfying me.
So then, I gave up on my own teeth and began praying my baby would have a strong set of healthy teeth (courtsey: Ro).
Ro joked about getting my dentures. However, he also urged me to get a second opinion. So after much postponing, I finally (after 2 years) fixed an appointment with a dentist in Bangalore. A lot of the family who went to him, assured me that he was good. So I eventually found the courage and the will, to try out another dentist. Ro and Adiv came for moral support. I waited a while, before I was called up a winding staircase. I explained my case, and eventually gave him a peek into my mouth. A tooth had cracked the previous week, and that needed immediate attention. So he promised to give me a dental plan, and finish up all the required work over a short period of time. I could only do weekends, as Ro was needed to babysit Adiv. I assured him I'd be back, after 6-weeks as Ro would be away travelling and I'd be in Chennai. He agreed and we decided to meet when we got back.
I came away pleased, but once I was in Chennai, I had to fight the urge to go back to the dentist I trusted. By now everyone was doubtful about whether he'd spoilt my teeth, over several years. He was also very expensive, and obviously not very effective. So after some debating internally and externally, I decided to stick to the new dentist in Bangalore.
So now post a root canal that didn't hurt, I'm glad I didn't go back to my previous dentist. Life is good, and the new dentist no promises a close-to-perfect set of teeth!:)

My Dream

2010-03-25T23:10:00.000-07:00

(Image Courtesy: Suzanna Kurian)

Just a Mimi

2010-03-16T21:48:00.000-07:00

In the world of promotions, EMIs, and day care centers, I'm a rare species; the unemployed, stay-at-home mom. A few years ago, I'd have vehementally denied the possibility of ending up as "just" someone's mimi. I was ambitious, and the jobs I jumped were proof of that. I was reasonably good at my job, or atleast that's what my bosses led me to believe. My marksheet from college held proof of a rank I got for Feminist Literature. I definitely wasn't going to give up a job, for a household and a baby. I lived in a world of equals.

Fortunately for me, I married someone who saw me as an equal. However, as chance would have it, my priorities changed. My son was born, and I knew I didn't want to leave him even for a second. I took refuge in the horror stories that I read about careless nannies renting out babies to beggars. I couldn't possibly take that risk with my baby. I attempted working from home, but that was just as difficult. I was more annoyed at the nanny who'd sincerely taken charge. She changed his diaper, fed him his meals, and sang him to sleep. She was taking on a role that was only mine. Also, how could I churn out storyboard after storyboard, when I was more apprehensive about whether the fruit was washed properly, and if the nanny was taking Adiv to the kitchen to gossip with the other maid. After a month, I found I had little time with him. So I indulged in some internal debating, and politely sent her off. Then I resigned.

Life has been wonderful ever since, though not the easiest. I knew I couldn't juggle several roles tirelessly and do them all well. I knew I couldn't spend quality time with Adiv, and meet deadlines, and ensure I had a clean, nicelooking home, and cook for a family potluck dinner, and read a page a day of my current book, and write.....! So I had to quit. Ofcourse I was fortunate enough to be able to afford it (Thank you Ro).

Now I only had to deal with friends and family who threw well-meaning yet condescending comments my way.

"I never had the time to notice my baby's responses to music. I was working."

"What? After playing journo, you're now sitting at home? Do you atleast wander the streets of Bangalore to find stories that you can send to newspapers?"

"You're so lucky. You can sleep if you want to." (Huh? Like housewives spend their mornings sleeping.)

Like many women before me, this post is an attempt to answer those questions. Life isn't easier now. I don't work because I chose not to (the empowered woman speaks). I'm up by 7 and I plan the menu for the day, put out the ingredients for the cook, make sure Adiv's breakfast is ready, and then wake him up. Feeding him takes a lot of patience. I climb the window grill, attempt new steps from MTV, make stories about the green turtle, read books, show videos on youtube, and play hide-and-seek before Adiv finishes his breakfast. Then there is lunch and dinner. Luckily, the Mass Communication classes helped hon my creative skills for this day. In addition to feeding, there's bath time, ABC time, and time(all day long) to make sure he doesn't do the forbidden. Despite keeping one eye on him at all times, he still continues to give me a fright from time to time (like when he drank up a bottle of cough syrup, or atleast led me to believe he had). Covering himself in peanut butter and later poop, also require special mention. Otherwise, we've managed pretty well. I bake him banana bread and cookies, and teach him about the world he lives in. I also read to him about Dada bear, Mimi bear, Adi bear, and Goldilocks, and encourage every little sign of talent. I clap the loudest when he dances, and tell the world when he speaks a new word. I punish him when he is naughty, but I never run short of those bear hugs and kisses.
Even this long monologue is met with incredulous looks of disbelief. You quit so you can have fun with Adiv? Perhaps if I had to cook and clean as well, I'd have received more sympathy.

"Don't you miss making your own money?"

"Don't you miss doing something for yourself?"

"Don't you miss working outside the house?"

I respond with my ready answers. I'd miss making my own money, if Ro didn't buy me my books and movies. I have no aspirations of owning that dream house with a fountain and spacious garden. Luckily my needs are simple, and since I have no green fingers, the thought of having a garden doesn't arise (except for a few pots in the balcony perhaps)!

I don't miss doing anything specific, because I make the time to do it all. I read, I write, I listen to music, I watch movies, and most importantly, I'm there for my child. I'm never too tired or too preoccupied. I'm there to plan his birthday parties and bake his cakes. I'm there to drive him to school and the play area. I'm even around when he wakes up crying because he has just dreamt about an angry doggie.

However, despite all of this, I do miss working outside the house. I miss meeting an impractical deadline, attending a pretentious meeting in a conference room, and gossiping over a cup of coffee in the pantry. Most importantly, I miss the thrill of receiving appreciation in the form of a good word or a promotion. Before you empathize, I haven't given up on those aspirations atall. I've merely postponed them for later.

For now, I'm happily just Adiv's Mimi. We fight when he fusses over a meal, we dance to "Wake up Sid", we sing every song on Sesame street, we color newspaper and our hands with non toxic paint, we play pretend games with his cars and action figures, we sing our ABCs and 123s, we make paper boats with forgotten newspapers, we dress up and go on drives, we share bars of chocolate, we read together;our thoughtful heads together on a pillow, we cream our faces at the end of a day....

I'm not apologetic about being a stay-at-home mom. I'm one, because I chose to be one, and I love it. Having said all this, I mean no disrespect to those mommies who juggle both roles with ease. But then, this post isn't about you. It is about me!

Last Turn

2010-03-13T06:32:00.000-08:00

Their friendship, if you could call it that, began over a game of scrabble. K began with "Voted", and responded with "AgentiVe". She got 75 points for it.

"Wow. Good one."

"Just got lucky."

And that started a friendship that lasted only one game.
*

K and M were scrabble enthusiasts, who now played much of it online. Despite being reasonably net savvy, they didn't belong to the current crop of chatroom dwellers. They took comfort in relationships that were "real". K imagined only kids and stalkers took to chatrooms. M's views were more conservative. "Why talk to someone you've never met?" She preferred her scrabble, where often no conversation was expected. Ocassionally you'd say "Hi" and wish them luck. If you got curious you'd even ask them where they were from. That was all. To the rest who came seeking conversation, she was firm but polite. "I am only here to play." However, despite these reservations, separated by decades and continents, K and M had befriended eachother.

After that first bingo, K initiated conversation by asking M where she was from. M who was usually more cautious, stared at the friendly user picture for a moment or two, before deciding it was safe to reply.

"India. How about you?"

Their game was a one-day game, where each player had the option of taking their turn within a 24 hours. If you missed taking your turn within that time frame, the other player could force you to forfeit your game. K was busy planning a summer wedding, and M was busy with a grandson who was visiting. So playing these one-day games seemed like a better option than the two-minute/five-minute games.

This particular game was fun for them, because they were both equally good. Between bingos and triple word scores, they soon began talking. K told M about her husband-to-be and college. M reciprocated with tales of her precocious grandson. Neither was curious about the other, so few questions were asked. They logged on, played their turn, made some small talk, and logged off.

Then one day, M got the option of forcing K to forfeit her game. K hadn't logged on that day to take her turn. Assuming she was busy, M proceeded to play her other games. She didn't usually force defeat, when she knew the other player. However, when K failed to take her turn after 5 days, M decided she'd probably abandoned the game. She waited another day, before deciding to force forfeit. Just then, K's message appeared on screen.

"M, are you online now?"

"Yes. Where have you been? I was just about to force forfeit and get myself a few extra points", joked M.

"I am not well", came K's reply.

"Is it the flu?", asked M, not expecting anything more serious.

"Bladder cancer", came K's immediate response.

Silence.

M spent the longest next second thinking of an appropriate response. Should she empathize with her, or attempt cheering her up? Having lost loved ones to cancer, she didn't feel particularly optimistic. Bladder cancer sounded fatal.

She looked at K's user picture once more. A cheerful face smiled back at her. The twinkle in her eyes suggested mischief, excitement about the future, and youth. K even seemed like a decent person. If she succumbed to the cancer, it would be a tragedy.

"Do you pray", asked K, interrupting M's trail of thought. M still hadn't responded to her announcement.

"Yes", replied M, her fingers continuing to search for the right keys to comfort the younger woman.

"I'll pray", typed M. She knew it sounded rather lame, but K didn't seem to notice. She went on to talk about Chemo, and how optimistic the doctors seemed. Her parents hadn't taken it too well though. Now her house was filled with an air of forced, uncomfortable cheer. Her mother was baking again, as if to make up for all the birthdays she'd miss. Her fiance was taking her out a lot more, and friends were constantly throwing her surprise parties. K didn't enjoy any of it. She needed some time to understand the changes her body was going through. She needed to understand the cancer and fight it.

M listened sadly. She felt for this young girl, who had so much to look forward to. It just wasn't her time to die as yet.

For the next few days, neither of them played their turns. However, they logged on to their game every day, so they could talk. K gave M updates about her treatment, and how depressed she got after every chemo session. M listened with maternal concern even researching the net for alternate methods of treatment. She cheered K with success stories she pulled off the net, and assured her that her prayers would work.

Ocassionally they'd play their game as well. K said playing made her life seem normal. So between visits to the hospital, harrowing chemo sessions that left her tired, nauseous, and depressed, she logged on to play her turn. She also looked forward to her conversations with M. With M, she didn't need to make any pretenses. She told her she was scared, and M understood. Also, the illness wasn't all they spoke about. They exchanged notes on the lives they led. India was a world K knew little about. She promised to visit once she got better, though that seemed like a distant dream at times.

M was good for K. She cheered her with funny anecdotes, and stories from India. K had even begun reading some recommended Indian literature. M told her about the large scale weddings in India, and K was amazed at how different her own wedding would be. K told her that they were planning a smaller wedding in her house, with just immediate family and close friends.

"We invite the world", joked M.

"Who cooks for them", asked K. Her mother and sister were cooking her wedding feast. She didn't see how they'd have managed cooking for 1000 people.

"Caterers", said M amused.

Both K and M continued to talk, using their letters sparingly. They both held on to their game, fearing it would end. So they kept their game alive, with a lot of conversation and delayed turns. They had 2 letters left, and M decided they'd started another game once they were done. K wasn't as optimistic though. She was getting weak, and she didn't think she'd log on as often anymore. She promised she'd log on once she got better, and get in touch. M assured her that she'd be fine, and that she'd continue to pray for her. After some elaborate-yet-cheerful goodbyes, they logged off. They both hoped they'd talk again, under happier circumstances.

They never did finish that game. M didn't put her final bingo and win the game. She played other games, winning some and losing some. Her grandson came to visit from time to time, and she got busy with life. However, she continued to look for K online. She was strangely optimistic about K. She knew she was okay, because she had one more turn before their game ended.

Walking to the beach

2010-03-02T23:09:00.000-08:00

The walk to the beach is eventful. I pass revered cows wearing garlands and bells, groups of gossiping walkers (an ocassional lonesome walker mutters mantras and walks ahead with undisturbed discipline), and busy bikers. A few smiles of recognition come my way, as I steer away from puddles of urine along the sides of a wall. I also make sure I don't step onto freshly drawn kollams in front of homes. I change the music on my walkman to one with a beat, and walk ahead briskly.
To get to the beach, I have to walk past the outskirts of a slum. Kids in various states of undress, stand around brushing their teeth, while their mothers collect water from a pump. An old man and his wife are putting up a teeny stall of drumsticks. Groups of men gather in front of a busy tea stall, and their chatter is drowned by the deafening music from a nearby temple. Even I have to stop my music as I hurry past. The temple music doesn't go too well with Dido. Competing with this temple on Sundays, is a church that plays loud devotional music. Beyond the temple, is a small time gym that is luring customers with a big discount. It's here that I turn to a residential area.
I see vendors making their rounds from building to building. Drivers wash cars, ocassionally stopping to chat with maids drawing kollams outside impressive gates. Old men and women walk toward the end of the road wearing shoes, carrying little purses to buy flowers from an old lady at the end of the road. Women stand arguing with vegetable vendors over skyrocketting prices. As I walk by, I smell freshly brewed coffee, and hear the suprabatham from one of the balconies. People sit around in balconies reading the newspaper. Outside I see sleepy kids in uniforms, waiting for their buses. I don't remember if I went to school that early.
As I get close to the Velankanni church, I see more tea shops brimming with activity. Hawkers are displaying cheap toys and other knick knacks on sheets. I think to myself that if Adiv was around, he'd beg for an auto or pistol. A resident begger is lying on a mat, by the side of a popular restaurant, while his overweight wife ambles across the street to buy them tea that she brings back in a discarded bisleri bottle.
At the beach, I see groups of men and women going their walks. I enjoy the fresh breeze that hits my face for a few moments. The french bakery by the beach is closed. The skating rink lies vacant. A fancy gym has a steady stream of people walking in and out. The tired few who are done with their workout, walk toward the paper and magazine stall. Another small group gathers in front of the stall, discussing an ongoing political story. I catch a glimpse of the headlines, and walk past them. I walk past office goers waiting patiently for their vans and cars. The flower stall I'd passed earlier is now filled with customers. Flowers are bought for puja, and strings of jasmine for the women in the house. I pass dogs engaged in a playful roll in the sand.
By now the traffic has gradually increased. Yellow school buses are on the move, and vans bring in fresh vegetables to stores. I take the familiar route again, watching for traffic, and covering my nose and mouth when crossing overflowing bins that are just being cleared. I take the same short cut back home. I'm tired, but satisfied. I check my phone for missed calls and messages, switch off my walkman, and walk in. As I walk in, I see the other residents of the building return from the walks. They prefer the serene, uneventful confines of a popular dance and music school. Despite the traffic, and the stinky bins, I prefer my route; one that's more fun, more eventful and less boring.

New Friend

2010-02-13T00:58:00.000-08:00

Today the help ("maid" is politically incorrect I'm told) brought her 11-year-old daughter with her. Adiv was ecstatic. He welcomed her with a big grin, called her chechi (didi) and introduced her to all his toys. First the cars, then his Santa, Pooh bear, Elmo, and Lion. And when she sat down with her mother for lunch, Adiv stood by her, watching and talking. He told her about the pigeons outside the balcony, unkoo's picture on the fridge, his scooter, and his Dada (he proudly showed her Ro's picture). Once she was done, he pulled her out of the kitchen. He wanted to show her a video, but she offered to push him on his scooter. He agreed immediately. After kicking his ball for a bit, and playing on his scooter, he then lined up all his stuffed toys on the sofa. He sat beside them, and then waited for her to do the same. She was hesitant, but he urged her to sit.
"Sit Chechi", he said emphatically, pointing to the empty space beside him. When she did, he filled her arms with his toys and gave her his favorite book. She was visibly pleased, and soon they were playing some very interesting games. She was more comfortable by then, and had begun flaunting her english skills. "Sit straight", she told Adiv, while she pushed him on his scooter. Then it was her turn. "Read book", he told her, showing her the monkeys in his book. Then he gave her other little knick knacks to look at.
A very easy, uncomplicated friendship had developed between them.
I began wishing Adiv wouldn't change as he grew up. Like all children, he was oblivious to class distinction and prejudices. He saw the little girl as potential playmate. They'd played some interesting games together, and nothing else mattered. She was very young, but quite aware of the differences between our families. However, once she understood we weren't going to insult her or make her feel like less of a person, she got more comfortable. She sat on the sofa comfortably, and began enjoying herself.
The games continued, till her mother was ready to leave. Adiv wept when she left, and had to be distracted with a candle on some bread pudding. We sang "Happy Birthday" to him, after which he cut us slices and then went to sleep. Just before nodding off, he asked me if chechi would come.
"I'll tell aunty to bring her again", I promised.

Return of the Bearded Giant

2010-02-11T08:05:00.000-08:00

It began like any other evening. All of us were busy with mundane activities, when the door bell rang. Mummy who was on the phone, motioned me to open the door. I looked out of the door-eye-viewer and ran into my bedroom immediately. Surprised I hadn't opened the door, Mummy got up and politely let in our guest; the parish priest.
Meanwhile, I was in my room putting on a tshirt for Adiv. Before the priest rang the bell, he'd been lounging around in a pair of shorts, and I didn't want the man to see him like that. I had memories of his previous visit (long time ago), when he'd lectured me on the evils of diapers. He left after he made me promise that I'd stop being lazy and throw out the diaper. I couldn't let the man know that Adiv was still in a diaper.

Excited about all the commotion, Adiv who was now wearing a tshirt that hid all signs of a diaper, ran out to greet the new guest. We imagined he'd be scared, but he seemed happy to see the priest. He merely looked up at the bearded man who towered above him and smiled. The man merely smiled at Adiv, offering no hand in friendship. A serious, strict man with definite views on what was right and wrong, he usually made an appearance only when the church needed money. He didn't mind your absence in church, as long as your money made it on time. So we assumed this visit was about money as well, and not about the people in this household.

If you know Adiv, you know he is a friendly child who loves people. He has little trouble befriending strangers, and is almost offended when they give him no attention. Last week it was the HDFC man who fell prey to his charms. What started as a discourse on the merits of an NRI account, soon became a game. Mummy had just handed around glasses of juice (Adiv also got one), when Adiv ran forward saying, "cheers". Slowly he brought out his toys and gave them to the agent who was by then quite emotional. "As a child I never got such toys", he explained. Soon he was playing with Adiv's cars and action figures. Adiv hoped the priest would be just as willing.

He began talking to the priest, to which the man who wasn't particularly amused said in malayalam, "he speaks no malayalam?"
"No. Only English", explained Pappa.
The man gave Adiv a disapproving glance.
"Oh no, that's going to be today's lecture", I feared and hid in the dining room.
Luckily, he seemed intimidated by the english-speaking two-year-old.
"OKay. Come here", he said hesitantly.
Adiv took that as a sign of friendship and told him about the phone he'd broken earlier in the evening.
"Endha?", he asked Pappa.
"Just being friendly", said Pappa, who was quite amused.
Adiv was now telling the priest, "Mimi, very naughty", and that had me in splits. Luckily, the priest still hadn't noticed me in the background.
A very interesting conversation followed.
Adiv: Adi break phone. Mimi fix phone.
Priest: Oh ok. Come on.
Adiv: Adi hand time. (pointing to a watch that had been drawn on his wrist)
Priest: (turns to Pappa to tell him about the Holy land tour)
Adiv: Adi has specs.
Priest: Okay.
Then suddenly Adiv left the room. The priest seemed relieved. However, almost immediately Adiv returned with a little bag filled with his cars. He wanted the priest to see his cars.
"Okay okay", said the priest and got up.
"Let's pray", he said.
We stood up immediately, urging Adiv to close his eyes and fold his hands. He stood up reverentially, and listened to the prayer. Once the prayer was over, the priest sprinted to the door with hurried goodbyes. Adiv who seemed surprised, began insisting on going with him. An embarassing tantrum followed, but the priest was far too nervous to even bother lecturing me. Without waiting for the lift, he hurried down the stairs. We laughed for a while!
An hour later, he called sheepishly. He'd forgotten his cap at our place, and he wanted to come collect it. Adiv who'd just finished his bath, seemed excited about seeing the priest again.
"How come he is friendly with that serious priest", asked Mummy.
"Can I try on his cap before he comes", I asked.
"No. Better not", said Mummy.
"Can I wear it and take a picture", I asked.
"Adi wear cap", urged Adiv from the background.
"Blasphemy", said Mummy and put the cap away.
Nevertheless, the day ended with the cap being returned to the man who'd accompanied the priest, and he forgot (I assume) to ask for money!

Adiv turned 2

2010-01-29T04:06:00.001-08:00

On the 19th of Jan, Adiv turned 2. He got two parties, two cakes, numerous presents, and a week long exercise of blowing candles and cutting the same cake over and over again. Rohit was leaving the following week on a 6-week long assignment in the US, so we decided to give Adiv an early party. We didn't want an elaborate party, so we had only some of our family over. Ro's mother, sister, her family, Ro's cousin who was visiting from Hyderabad, and Ro's uncle (and Adiv's favorite grand uncle) and family were the only invitees. The day before the party, Adiv's cousins (4 girls between the ages of 17 and 5) came for a sleepover. So we began Adiv's birthday with a trip to the bowling alley. The kids had fun. While the lil ones rolled their balls and prayed nervously, Adiv merely threw his ball and pranced around excitedly, oblivious to the outcome. After two rounds each, we drove around looking for a place to eat. Mc Donalds had their shutters half open, so Rohit hurried in and came out with burgers for everyone. By the time we got home, it was late. The kids got into their night clothes, and got comfortable. The lil ones played with Adiv who was screaming excitedly. The oldest read quietly, while her sister gave me a fill of the Hyderabad gossip.

We slept late, and woke up only when the maid came in. Still sleepy, I made myself and Rohit some coffee, and milk for the kids. Breakfast was pancakes with pancake syrup, after which the kids were ready for some fun and games. While the oldest continued reading a book, her sister went with Ro pick up some rackets. The 7-yr-old encouraged Adiv to chew his breakfast, and her younger sister dealt with the eternal question that plagues all girls; "What do I wear?".

By the time everyone was fed and ready, it was 11. We went to the badminton court, where we played in pairs. In turns we even ran behind Adiv who was more keen on exploring. Ocassionally we took breaks to drink juice that I'd brought down for everyone. After some very competitive gaming, I got the kids to wash their feet. Then they were allowed to put wet their feet in the pool. Getting them home after that was quite the task. Lunch followed, and then the little ones were all tucked in bed for a nap. The older two experimented in the kitchen and made some delicious cake that we ate later. Ro and I lazed around and ordered the food for the evening. The cuisine was Tibetan, and we ordered generous portions of momos, noodles, rice, and chicken for everyone.

The kids were woken up a little later, for a trip to a nearby farm. Excited, they sang on their way to the farm. The most requested song on that trip was "We're on the way..We're on the way..on the way to Granpa's farm" (Raffi). Soon we were welcomed to the farm by its friendly, excitable, bouncy, inhabitant, a gorgeous beauty, an Irish Setter. Ro fell in love! The kids sat huddled in the car, agreeing to come out only when the dog was put in its kennel. *sigh*

Then we explored. We reminded the kids that no teasing would be tolerated. They promised to refrain from any kind of teasing and enjoyed the rabbits, ducks, guinea pigs, goats, and donkeys. The star of the evening was Nimbles, a friendly, jumpy little goat. The kids gathered some courage eventually and began feeding the animals. This outting would have lasted longer, if not for an accident. One of the girls twisted her ankle, and so we decided to head back. We got back in time for Rohit to go pick up dinner. Adiv and one of the girls went with him, while I got the others in front of the TV and began cleaning up. The table was set, the cutlery and crockery spread out, the beds re-made, and towels placed in both bathrooms. The cake had arrived a little earlier.

As the evening progressed, the guests arrived. Ro returned with the food, and Adiv got busy with his presents. The car is what got his attention. So he spent the rest of the evening driving it, while we enjoyed the drinks that Ro passed around with some crisps. Just before dinner, Adiv got to cut his cake, which he did quite happily, enjoying all the singing (and the attention). The cake was promptly removed, and returned to the table only with the dessert. With birthday 1 coming to an end, we went to sleep tired and exhausted. We spent all of Sunday sleeping as well. Adiv's grand aunt, her daughter and family came in the evening with more presents. Adiv had begun thinking life was about presents. Ro who'd developed a bad cold by then, had to postpone his trip by a few days. This meant he'd be around for Adiv's actual birthday.

On 18th night, my parents and brother (who'd just reached that morning from the US) arrived. They came in late at night with more toys for the little one. He played with his cars, wore his helmet proudly (part of a fireman's costume Ash got him), and played till late at night. Rohit was leaving on 19th night, so we decided to let Adiv miss school. He woke up to a lot of singing. He got numerous calls, to which he responded with a well practiced, "thank you"! I got busy with some baking. I made Ro some banana bread to take, and I made Adiv two simple cakes that I put together with three layers of icing. Ro and I had fun experimenting with the icing. Did we want an A or a design? We tried different designs, before settling for one. Though it didn't seem particularly neat, it was delicious. Adiv cut his second cake, and fed us all in turns. He even sang to himself, "Happy to Adi budday"

That evening Ro left, and a week later, we got to Chennai. For now, the party still hasn't ended for Adiv, as he is with grandparents who are always getting him little surprises from time to time. Life sure is good at 2.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

2009-12-28T18:11:00.000-08:00

This year we had a quiet Christmas. I didn't bake a cake, and the day didn't begin with appam and stew. Nevertheless, the family got together at night, with everyone bringing something to the table; duck, fish, chicken, salad, bread rolls, flavored rice, and dal followed by a lemon and coconut pudding and a coffee pudding. Before this feast, we sat together, sang a few carols, watched Adiv dance to Jingle Bells, had a Bible reading, and prayed. The kids were all given presents. Adiv was most thrilled.

Adiv's Christmas began the day the stars came up in the building. He was fascinated by them. The excitement doubled, when his grand uncle showed him the picture of a Santa Claus. From then on, he only watched videos of Tantaku (Santa) and spoke about him. He thought Jingle Bells was the "coolest" song ever, and always jumped up to shake to its beat. Then on Christmas eve, we had to get the kids presents, and we landed up in a mall. As soon as we got there, we saw huge crowds gather at the atrium. That middle of the mall had been transformed into the north pole, and on a sleigh sat Santa. He smiled, posed for pictures with the kids, and gave them sweets.

"Tantakooooo, come", yelled a very excited Adiv. We immediately got him a ticket and waited his turn. When his turn came, he smilled happily and settled down on Santa's lap. When Santa brought out his sac of sweets, he put both hands in and took as many as he could. Then I took a few pictures, ignoring the Forum photographer who suggested that I pose with Santa as well. After the pictures, we picked out goodie bag from Nilgiris, and got to Landmark. We snaked our way in to find books and toys, before we suddenly spotted a dancing Santa. He danced towards kids in the store, posing for pictures and giving out presents. A few excited parents threw their frightened children towards this famished, tamil speaking Santa, just so they could get a picture. Santa obliged by smiling and holding on to the writhing child. Then Adiv ran forward, pushed away a frightened child and danced to the tunes of Jingle bells. Both Santa and Adiv danced, and Adiv got his present. Saying bye, we moved to another section in the store. Finally when the bill was being paid, we saw Santa again. Adiv ran to him blowing kisses. Santa smiled, obliged with another jig, and gave him ANOTHER present. The day had gone well. It was perfected by a pair of shades from Liliput that Adiv begged for (and got). He now zooms across rooms on his cycle, wearing these shades.

New Year, was more tiring. We were in Cochin for an engagement, and quite anxious about trying out the Cochin specials. Unfortunately, Ro ended up with a tummy upset, but that didn't deter little Adiv. He danced to the tunes of some popular mallu songs and the Vengaboys (remember, "I'm going to Ibiza?") and welcomed in the New year. Otherwise we pretty much spent our time with visits to family members in the city.

Now that the excitement has this holiday season as ended, Adiv is now preparing for the next big event; his 2nd birthday. So he spends a lot of time strumming his version of the Happy Birthday song on Ro's guitar, singing, "Happy to you...Adi"! Life sure is exciting when you are two!:)

The family that wasn't us

2009-12-23T18:34:00.000-08:00

They got my attention, when the unusually tall and skinny mother with a saree draped around her sinewy frame rummaged through the contents of her bag and brought out an aging sippy cup. What was possibly handed down generations, the sippy cup bore tell tale signs of an earlier era. She placed it on the food tray, where it made futile attempts at balancing, before dropping to the ground. The father picked it up immediately and placed it firmly on the tray again. This time, the sippy cup slid to the side, and nestled itself between the tray and back of the chair in front. It was then picked up the next minute, and given to their 1-year-old who drank from it.
I was shocked, amused even. It couldn't be clean enough for a toddler. I wrapped a protective arm around my bag, that carried two clean tupperware bottles with Adiv's sterilized water. The bag also had some fruit and biscuits. I didn't want him trying out train food.
Making sure I had everything for the journey, I turned my attention to the family again. The man had just bought his young family cups of coffee. The sippy cup was emptied, and train coffee was poured into it, for the toddler to drink.
"They've given their baby coffee", I whispered into Ro's ears.
He smiled
The little one took a few joyous sips, before diverting her attention to her older brother. He was fighting with his father over a packet of Lays chips. Just then, an attender walked by with bottles of fizzy drinks. The father picked a bottle of fanta that his son pounced on. The baby began whining for it, when the sippy cup was emptied again and filled with some fanta. Adiv who is never allowed any fizzy drinks began asking for juice. Luckily I'd come armed with orange juice, and he was temperorily satisfied.
The next few hours went by peacefully. Adiv befriended a group of young boys, and they began some amusing games. The family next to us, settled down for a nap. From time to time they bought their kids samosas and vadas soaked in oil. After each snack, the toddler's face was carefully wiped with the curtain. They seemed fine, but I was sceptical. I was careful about Adiv's food. And his face cloth was always washed and ironed. However, these kids who were taking in all the train food and water that wasn't sterilized seemed hardy and well. They were even talking on their father's mobiles, something that Adiv isn't allowed, for fear of all the damage it can cause.
Just then it hit me....contrary to all the illusions I had about what a cool, easy going mom I was, I was just a very paranoid one! Anyway, till Adiv gets older, that's how it is going to be.

Cheeeese!

2009-12-11T09:16:00.000-08:00

In Remembrance

2009-11-18T00:51:00.000-08:00

After a very brief stint in hospital, Dada (Ro's father) passed away last week, leaving family and friends in a state of shock. He wasn't sick or bedridden. An active 68-year-old who loved to read, explore, and listen to Englebert Humperdink, he was rushed into hospital with severe chest congestion. As soon as he got to the hospital, his heart went into cardiac arrest, and he was shifted to the ICU. What followed were a series of very trying days. His heart had stopped for three minutes, and the doctors warned the family about possible brain damage. The kidneys weren't functioning properly either. Nevertheless, the family held on to every ray of hope. Prayers were said allover, and we were optimistic about his recovery. Then when he was conscious, he strengthed our faith by recognizing his family and proving the doctors wrong. He communicated with gestures, and seemed positive. Doctors were amazed at his recovery, and soon they were talking about how he'd be discharged very soon. We continued to pray. We made promises of having a huge celebration when he recovered.
Last Tuesday night, Ro called me at 3 in the morning to say that his BP dropped to 50/30. We prayed! We couldn't give up just yet. Contrary to what the doctors had feared, his brain was still alert. Now God would heal him completely. We believed He would. On Wednesday morning, the situation continued to be grim. His BP dropped further, and finally the dreaded call came. Dada was no more.
Adiv and I (with my parents) were in Bangalore then, and we took the next flight to Hyderabad. The next few days went in a daze. The funeral was the toughest, but the family pulled through. Their faith kept them going. They believed that maybe God had wanted this, though there seemed to be no logical explanation for why he'd gone so soon. They merely took solace in the fact that he hadn't suffered for too long.
His absence hit us the most in the days that followed. We wondered about how life would never be the same for his immediate family. Christmas would never be the same without his perfect lining of the cake tin with butter paper. Presents would never be the same without his skill at wrapping them. The crossword in the paper would never be filled by him again. A walker that Ro had ordered for him, would never be used by him. Ro and his sister would forever miss his quiet, strong presence.
I knew him the least, but I knew his passing would be a loss to Adiv. Adiv would never know of his intellect and simplicity. He would only hear tales of a grandfather who had all the answers, and barely remember the numerous outtings he took with him. During the funeral, I reminiced about the times I'd spent with Dada. He was a very quiet man, but we'd had a few fun conversations in the past. He didn't say a lot, but he was always very sensitive and considerate; like cheering me up with chocolates when I was the new bride, upset about leaving family to go to London.
*
A few days after the funeral, we had a beautiful memorial service for Dada. Family and friends gathered to talk about the man they all admired and loved. I got to know him so much more after this service. I wished I'd known him better. However, he'd gone, teaching us one of life's biggest lessons ; we had to appreciate every minute of what life had to offer. We could never be sure of tomorrow, so we had to live today and appreciate all those who were in our lives.
The family said their goodbyes with this very appropriate hymn..
Ever remembered
Fading away like the stars of the morning,
Losing their light in the glorious sun;
So let me steal away, gently and lovingly,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Refrain
Ever remembered, forever remembered,
Ever remembered while the years are rolling on,
Ever remembered, forever remembered,
Only remembered by what I have done.

So let my name and my place be forgotten,
Only my life-race be patiently run;
So let me pass away, peacefully, silently,
Only remembered by what I have done. Refrain

So, in the harvest, if others may gather,
Sheaves from the fields that in spring I have sown,
Who plowed or sowed matters not to the reaper -
I'm only remembered by what I have done. Refrain

Fading away like the stars of the morning,
So let my name be unhonored, unknown,
Here, or up yonder, I must be remembered,
Only remembered by what I have done. Refrain

Bottoms Up

2009-10-29T18:36:00.000-07:00

With Ro out of town (in-laws unwell), Adiv and I found ourselves alone for a day and night, before my parents arrived. Not in the least bit apprehensive, I saw Ro off telling him we'd be just fine. So after he left, the routine went on as usual. We went to school, did some shopping, came back, took a nap, and then I decided to do some cooking. I put Adiv with his toys and made frequent trips between the kitchen and bedroom. Everything seemed okay. Adiv hadn't yet asked for Ro, and I promised him an outting after my cooking was done. Then I went to stir something on the gas. When I returned, I found Adiv on the bed with a bottle of his cold medicine. It was open, and empty! Fear tugged my heart. Had he drunk it up? I found a lot poured on the bedspread, but I still wasn't sure if he'd had any. If he had, how much? How did he get the bottle that I thought was far away from his reach? What do I do?
Calming down for a second, I decided to call a pediatrician who is available on the phone. He barked instructions on the phone. "Get him to throw up. Give him salt water, put your finger in, and tickle his throat. I ran to the kitchen, got some warm salt water and tried to get him to drink it. "No", he screamed angrily. Then I put my hand in to get him to puke. He resisted by biting my finger. I continued to try. After a few failed attempts, I called the doctor again. This time he was annoyed.
"How can you give up? What kind of mother are you? If he doesn't throw up, he has to go to the doctor and get his stomach flushed."
By now, I was in tears. I was scared, and someone screaming at me didn't help. I made more attempts to get Adiv to throw up. No luck. We both cried. I was scared and he was angry.
Wondering what I should do next, I called an aunt who I knew would understand the state I was in, and act calmly and quickly. She came immediately, and said we'd just have to observe Adiv. She'd spoken to some doctor friends and they said if he wasn't unsually drowsy, he'd be fine. Afterall it was only baby's medicine. It couldn't be dangerous. However if he was drowsy and not his usual self, we'd have to rush him to hospital. Adiv by then was running around and playing. When my aunt arrived, he welcomed her with a smile and showed her new additions to the house since her last visit.
"Sinx", he said pointing to a teeny Sphinx that his grand uncle brought us all the way from Egypt.
Then he flaunted his helmet, his riding skills, and eventually begged for some crisps.
"He seems perfectly okay", my aunt assured me.
I was also quite sure that he was okay. However, we'd have to watch. In the meantime the floodgates were let open. I wept; mostly because I was relieved. I prayed he'd continue to be fine. "Let it all out", said my aunt. "You'll feel better."
Meanwhile Adiv cycled from room to room.
Then my aunt suggested I go stay at her place. I agreed immediately. I had to return the next morning before the maid arrived, so I took my car. Adiv was buckled up in the car seat, and we drove to my aunt's house. When we got there, Adiv was welcomed to the sight of all my aunt's grandson's toys. He loved his car, the talking Elmo, a teddy bear as big as him, and the lawn to run on. He explored, played, ate his dinner, and eventually slept tired. The day had ended on a happy note. He was happy, and we were quite sure he hadn't drunk any of the medicine. I was exhausted from all the worrying. Nevertheless, I was happy. I made a mental note of all that I'd have to lock away with a key; medicines, harpic, washing liquid....!I had to now prepare for this curious toddler, who would explore and try to get his hands on anything and everything. For now I was just glad that he was okay. I made my last call to Rohit who had been quite worried. Then I lay down thanking God for watching over little Adiv.

2009-10-22T06:42:00.000-07:00

The toughest part of motherhood is letting go! Nevertheless, feigning some courage, I drove Adiv to school today. He was happy. He ran in smiling looking for aunty, little knowing that I'd been asked to wait outside.
"He is friendly. He'll be fine. And he loves the teacher", the principal assured me.
They asked me to return at 1, but I decided to hang around outside. Apprehensive, I walked to the car, tried reading a book, sent Ro nervous sms messages, and kept checking the time. Half an hour later, I decided to peek in. I knocked at the door. The minute it was opened, I heard his voice.
"Mimiiii..Dadaaaaa..", he wailed.
I rushed in, and picked him up! The teacher wasn't very pleased. She argued that if i kept coming in, he'd never get over this fear.
I argued the whole point of this toddler program was that the parent would be allowed to sit in. She pointed to the older kids, some happy, some weepy. I pointed to Adiv and reminded her that they were a lot older than he was.
*
Ro and I share similar views on schooling. I'd chosen to be a stay-at-home mom, so I'd be around for him. Unlike a lot of working parents who had little choice, Adiv didn't need to be booted off to school early. Some argue that these kids cry and eventually get over it. I argue, why put him in school early and upset him. Adiv has always been a friendly happy child, and we weren't over-ambitious parents who wanted him to start school earlier than necessary. However, when I heard about the toddler program, I thought it would be fun. They'd let me sit in, and he'd get to interact with other kids and develop some social skills.
The first two days were good. He seemed to like his teacher, and was having fun in the confines of a room with a teacher, an aayah, the pink toddler, and me. Today when I peeked inside, the scenario was quite different. I found the room filled with older kids. The pink toddler sat on the aayah's lap with a toy, the teacher was busy with the older kids, and Adiv was stuck to the door crying. I was livid. Ofcourse it broke my heart seeing him weep. Nevertheless, I was angry that they had put him with the older kids who were learning alphabets. They tried explaining it to me by saying he was smart and therefore ready for an older class. I told them quite clearly that I wanted him to have fun with kids his age. I didn't want him in a class with older kids, feeling lost and lonely. I wanted him to learn in his own pace. I wasn't going to force any ambition on him.
I'm not sure they got the point, but I walked out with him. I said I'd return the next day and sit in with him till he got comfortable there.
Adiv cried himself to sleep in his car seat. I drove back worried! Adiv is a happy, intelligent young boy, and I didn't want anything to scare him. Tomorrow is a day I'm dreading, but I have to make my point clear just once more. Unlike a lot of parents who were preparing toddlers for a rat race, Ro and I are quite content just letting him do things at his own pace. For now I merely want him to play, make new friends, and learn something. I don't want a baby sitter for 2 hours.
Praying tomorrow is a better day for us both!

First day at school

2009-10-15T19:04:00.000-07:00

Armed with a bag carrying some water, my wallet, a book (in case of free time), and a snack, I walked past the school gates. Like all newcomers, I was a wee bit apprehensive, but very eager to make new friends. The teacher who was seeing off the previous batch of students, smiled and ushered us into a room filled with cars, balls, hand puppets, and several montessori kits. Adiv's first day began well.
Unlike a lot of preschoolers who were weeping piteously, the toddlers were allowed to bring in their mommies. So I sat down gingerly on one small chair, praying I'd not break it. Adiv chose a green chair for himself, before climbing off to examine the cars and the little animals. Picking one he proudly announced, "Car"! When that generated some clapping, he picked a cow and said very emphatically, "cow"! Then he went on to identify the "Bow wow", the "meow", and the "deer" (Deeya), before diverting his attention to the differently sized cars.
"Vrooooom vrooooom", the car rushed across the floor.
"Big car..there..door", he bragged to the indulgent teacher.
By then he'd decided he liked his teacher. He wasn't sure what he could call her. Since she was wearing trousers and a short top, he went with "Chichi" (chechi).
"I'm aunty", she said. So after that, he was his aunty's tail. He flaunted his language skills, opened and closed doors for her, and flashed her some endearing smiles.
The only other toddler present was a younger girl in pink. A true gentleman, Adiv showed her all the toys. "Babeee...take", he said offering her all her toys. Inbetween he looked to us for signs of approval. The teacher and I clapped, and he got even more generous. This lasted till the aayah brought out a rocking elephant.
"Ingyaaa" (his word for elephant) he screamed, hurrying to climb on to it.
"Baby's turn first", said the teacher. "Adiv, you'll get your turn."
He waited patiently, pointing to the elephant's eyes saying, "aaayee".
"eeyaa" (ears).
Soon he'd lost all his patience. "Auntee..turn", he enquired. The teacher smiled and let him have his turn. After that all chivalry was dead. He refused to budge, and the pink toddler had to be distracted with other knick knacks.
Eventually he lost interest and settled for some basketball. Everytime he missed the basket, he'd scream, "Oh noooo." Two minutes of that, and then his attention was on the handpuppets (owls).
"Auntee..owww", he said.
"Very good Adiv. Did you see the owl in the zoo?"
"Zoozoo...aaaaah", he said grinning reminicing about the zoozoo ads he loves watching on youtube.
Then the montessori kits were brought out. After stacking a few circles one on top of the other, he lost interest again. The pink toddler sat patiently with it.
During snack time I brought out neatly cut apples. They'd browned a bit, so he said, "darty" and took one. The pink toddler began begging for some. I asked the teacher if I could give her an apple, but she said they didn't encourage sharing between toddlers because different kids were allowed different things to eat.
"Get her snack", the teacher said. The pink toddler's mother had packed cream biscuits for her. Adiv immediately threw away his apple and began eyeing the cream biscuits.
"No bikkis now", i said. . Luckily, it was time to leave. The promise of leaving by car distracted Adiv who was "vrooooooming" again. He blew kisses at everyone, said elaborate byes (bey bey) and we left!
So his first day was very satisfying! He enjoyed himself, and now I'm getting ready for day two. Maybe I'll take two biscuits (just in case)...and some fruit!:)

10 Honest Things About Me

2009-10-12T01:17:00.001-07:00

Thankyou Abhilasha for my first online badge. I'm rather kicked about it.
Anyway without wasting much time, I'll get to the 10 most honest things about me!

My life revolves around Adiv. We do a lot together. If we aren't playing games, I draw him images that vaguely resemble cows, television sets, elephants, cats, and cars. We go out together, read together, sing all Elmo's songs together, and fight battles during meal time.
I cry easily. Funerals and unpleasant events make me sad, but I even cry when I'm angry.
I can't draw or dance, but I do both to entertain Adiv. I might even dance in discos when everyone is either too drunk too laugh, or too blinded by the lights to notice.
I trained as a carnatic singer for 8 years. Now I only sing at home, all day long, for Adiv.
I consider "Gone with the Wind", the most romantic novel ever!
I don't get friendly very easily, and I'm told I exude a certain reserve that is often misunderstood for snobbishness. However, once the ice is broken, i'm told i'm quite the opposite.
I hope to write a book one day; the plot and characters are alive in my head. Now i have to put them on paper.
I'm Josh Groban's biggest fan. I wish he'd come perform in India.
I like writing lists. Lists give me a sense of order and direction, though I might not always complete my "To-do" lists.
Family comes first, and i'd be lost without them. Being torn away from family never to return to them or find them again is my ultimate nightmare. That is probably why I empathised with Kunta Kinte (Roots) as much as I did.

Others tagged with the honesty badge:

Scatterbrain

MadMallu

OfMountainsandStreams

Rants and Ramble

Anyone else who wants the badge:)

Visiting the stiff and swanky

2009-09-25T23:37:00.000-07:00

House visits are fun (sometimes embarassing) when you take Adiv. Usually it is the very indulgent family. They bring out forgotten toys and books, play music and dance along, and often grant him the permission to play with the cushions. With strangers I'm more guarded. For fear of having him destroy expensive breakables, I trail him (something I do even when we visit family) and make futile attempts at distracting him with toys I've packed in my bag. He is rarely interested, as the prospect of exploring a new home seems far more fun.
Recently, when a cousin was in town, we decided to visit family we hadn't seen in ages. So we told an aunt that we'd come by, but before that we'd decided to visit my cousin's old boss.
Living in an expensive block of apartments, Mr Boss, Mrs Boss and their kids had recently moved to Bangalore, after a long stint in Mumbai. Mr Boss was my cousin's first boss, and they'd kept in touch over the years, eventually graduating from colleagues to friends.
"He is a nice, though quiet man", said my cousin. He however warned us about his wife. When he started work, he was the only one who mustered enough courage to talk to her. The rest of the office was terrified of her. No, she wasn't the typical Mrs Boss. She was just very intelligent, opinionated, and reserved. Her reserve gave her an air of snobbishness that made her a wee bit intimidating.

When we reached their apartment complex, our simple santro was stopped at the gate, while the bigger cars whizzed past the gates. Laughing, and telling ourselves we needed the exercise anyway, we walked past the gates after signing in. We found their building, and took the lift to the 6th floor. Then we stood outside the door, rang the bell, and waited. Mr Boss opened the door, looking mighty pleased to see my cousin. (He was surprised to see us though!). He moved aside to let us in, and we spotted Mrs Boss behind him. She gave us forced smiles, thawing a bit on spotting my cousin behind us. He walked in comfortably, chatting and asking about their kids. Meanwhile Mrs Boss guided us to their designer furniture. Some polite conversation later, she stood up to get us some eats. Perhaps to break the ice, or maybe quell the growing awkwardness, Mr Boss made a strange suggestion.
"Want to see our house?"
Not knowing how to respond, we agreed, following him slowly. Mrs Boss threw him a perplexed, slightly annoyed look when she saw us wander in. Oblivious to her apparent displeasure, Mr Boss continued giving us the tour. We went from room to room, even surprising their people-shy sons who were each locked up in their rooms. Mr Boss even urged us to enter their rooms and take a look at the wood work, the balconies, the design.....!Meanwhile Adiv was running wild, exploring every nook, paying a lot of attention to the cupboards and keys that were within his reach. When I saw him climbing one of the beds, I carried him away with promises of trips in the car, icecream after dinner, and cookies in both hands. The tour ended in the balcony that overlooked a crowded, popular mall on one side, and a busy street on the other.

The eats arrived. Adiv was given a biscuit, and the rest of us sipped some juice. The conversation now centered on real estate. Not even remotely interested, Adiv chose this moment to get off Ro's lap and run. Worried he'd take (or worse break) something, I ran behind him. I gave Mrs Boss an apologetic look as I ran behind Adiv. Mr Boss assured me that they'd been through this stage. Mrs Boss was quiet. I smiled and rushed in, only to find Adiv make himself comfortable. His shoes had come off, and he'd climbed on the bed. He had even pulled out a pillow from underneath the bedspread. Shocked, I rushed forward, muttered a few threats, made the bed, and carried him back into the living room. Luckily, by then, everyone was ready to leave. An ecstatic Adiv, screamed "Car" and rushed to the door. Very sweetly he waved at everyone. Mr and Mrs Boss chose to come down with us. Mr Boss wanted to give us a tour of their complex.
"We have two pools, one indoors and one outdoors."
"We have an inhouse library and beauty parlour."
"Tennis courts."
"No badminton court", I wondered amused! We had that, in addition to a pool that we barely used now.
We feigned interest by making appropriate sounds, and hoped the tour would end. It ended eventually with a tour of the garden. Adiv ran around happily, and by then even Mrs Boss had warmed up to him. She smiled, and asked questions about him. She even waved at him with equal enthusiasm when we left. Adiv was happy in the car. He enjoyed his outing, and meeting new people. He hadn't been naughty either, except for wanting to wander around in their house. Nevertheless, we came away deciding we'd stick to family, friends, and baby-friendly homes, till Adiv got older and less curious about new surroundings.
Tomorrow we go to the Zoo!

Oh Maid Where art thou!

2009-09-25T10:39:00.001-07:00

My trysts with the maid continue!
First there was an opinionated chatterbox who frequently absented herself from work. Then there was the well-dressed beautician-turned-cook who knew no cooking. Inbetween were two sisters and their mother who came in turns. The first sister left for greener pastures (baby aayah for a few hours that pay the big bucks), and left her sister as her replacement. The sister, a cheerful lil thing who seemed to quite good and willing. Her husband played fiend, refusing to go to work. So she eventually decided to stay home as a means of forcing him to go to work. Her mother came in her place. The mother came with a pretty high opinion of herself. "I'm the best in this locality", she announced proudly! She happily agreed to do all that I asked her to do. However, when I wasn't looking she'd miss out a few of her chores. On reminding her, she'd say, "Oh, old lady na, I forgot." The biggest problem wasn't that. She refused to get on with Adiv. This 60-something year old and Adiv would fight every single day. They'd scream at eachother, and each fight would end with her threatening to cut off his tongue. That was reason enough for me to say Bye to her. Meanwhile I'd found myself a fancy looking cook. The watchman brought her proudly.
"Madam, my wife, accha kaam kar legi."
I'd just woken up from my afternoon nap. Bleary-eyed and still dressed in my night clothes that now bore stains of Adiv's lunch, I looked at a diffident girl. She was dressed in jeans and a short top. She even wore a lot of make-up. I wondered if I'd heard right. Maybe she was one of the new tenants in the building?
"Huh?"
"New cook madam."
"Oh", I said hoping she hadn't noticed my dishevelled look. After a conversation that I barely remember, I asked her to start the next day. She came with a confession.
"I don't know how to cook madam. But I can learn."
She didn't learn much, but she was pleasant and she came armed with a sob story. So I kept her for a month before deciding to send her off! There was no point having a cook who couldn't cook.
Then my luck changed. A matronly, kind, pleasant woman came knocking at my door. She was clean and gentle, and she said she could cook and do everything. I was secretly ecstatic. She started immediately, and she was good. Her food was tasty, and her work meticulous. I was quiet about how good she was, for fear of having my neighbours pinch her away. In the mean time I attempted to keep her happy by giving her baby food for her grandchild, cutlets for her family, and lunch on days when she had extra work. When guests came, I cut vegetables for her and did much of the cooking. I liked the woman and I didn't want her to leave. I was paying her good money and I was a kind boss. She wouldn't want to miss that.
However, I was quite mistaken. Yesterday, she said she wanted to stop. Without maintaining any eye contact, she first made excuses about the amount of work there was. Then she said she had a back problem. I didn't hear much after that. I only heard, "give me my money, and i'll leave." Angry, I said i'd give her her money only on the 1st. She agreed, finished up her work and left. While she was there, I hoped I'd acted dignified. I didn't say much or beg for her to stay. But I wondered why she'd left. Maybe someone was paying her more as a nurse or baby aayah? I didn't believe her back was hurting. Once she left, I let the flood gates open. I wept more out of self pity. How would I manage with a baby? Would I get another maid?
A few maids came by to enquire almost immediately. Sensing my desperation for help, they asked for huge sums of money. One woman said that she wanted 500Rs only to put out the clothes from the washing machine. I politely sent her off!

Since then, I've cried a few more times. I've shouted at Adiv who smeared quite a bit of peanut butter on his head. I've fought with Rohit just because I wanted to cry and feel better. However now I sit at my computer feeling rather peaceful. The house is clean, the clothes have been washed and put out to dry, the food has been cooked, and the vessels have been washed. To make things better Adiv ate his dinner without much trouble. Things are definitely not that bad.
Now for some prayers! "Dear God, please bring me a maid."

Finding Myself

2009-09-18T04:57:00.001-07:00

With hands firmly on the steering wheel, and eyes following the traffic on all sides, I'm mildly aware of the music playing in the background. Yet another friendly RJ announces the contest for the evening, luring in listeners with the promise of goody bags filled with CDs, caps, and t-shirts. I often know the answers, and I honestly wouldn't have minded an autographed CD or two. Nonetheless, I refrain to getting to my phone that lies nestled between my notebook and Bible. I'm already late, and with this crawling traffic, i wonder if i'll ever get to church on time.
*
My decision to attend BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) classes came suddenly. Motherhood though extremly rewarding, was often tiring. I knew all the songs that Elmo sang, and the rhymes on every page of Adiv's books. However, I craved for some "me" time outside the house. I began this endeavour with weekly outtings to buy groceries. I'd even extend these shopping trips to a few minutes of quiet browsing at the book store in the mall. I'd often return with a book, or a movie that we'd then enjoy later in the evening.
Then I got greedy. Now I wanted to meet people; not family we ran into so often, but new faces. Friends from the distant past seemed too busy with lives that didn't involve kids, and I'd forgotten the art of making new friends. Almost suddenly, a thought popped into my head; "BSF"!

My mom had been going for these BSF classes for over a year. I'd seen her extensive notes, and I know she enjoyed her discussions there. She'd even made some friends there. So maybe I needed to get there as well. I hoped I'd get to socialize a bit, and more importantly, learn about the Bible.
I went to their website, wrote to the coordinator for Bangalore, and she got in touch almost immediately. "Come on a tuesday", said her friendly e-mail. "We'd love to have you there."
After a few weeks of postponing, I eventually got around to going there. I got myself a driver, and a map. The church in which these sessions were being conducted was far away, and with the traffic in the evening, it would take me atleast an hour or two to get there.
As soon as I got there, I was welcomed in by the friendliest people. They gave me a tag with my name, and directed me to the pews. Groups of friendly women chatted around in hushed tones. Some sat quietly finishing their homework. I was happy! Smiling, I found myself a seat.
The session began with two hymns, after which the group discussions began. I was asked to meet the teaching leader with two other newcomers. The teaching leader explained the idealogies of BSF, and how we'd learn the Bible in 7 years. We filled up registration forms and went back to our places. It was another week before we found ourselves in groups as well. The other newcomer used this time to give me her testimony. A hindu from a traditional household, she'd come to Christ after the conception of her miracle baby. By the time her story ended, the groups returned from their discussions and settled down for the lecture. The teaching leader then began her inspirational, thought provoking lecture for the day.
At the end of that day, I knew coming here had been the right thing to do. After that I got back each week with extended narratives on what I'd learnt that day. I could relate to most of the lectures. Once it was about keeping the soul clean by getting rid of hatred and resentment. Another time it was about forgiveness. Once she even spoke about how we all had our assigned duties in this world. So we just had to perform our tasks well, instead of focussing on the tasks (and successes) of others. We just had to compete with ourselves and fulfil our tasks. This particularly made sense as I'd spent a lot of time envying those who'd done a lot better professionally. I was a happy stay-at-home mom, but I missed the deadlines, the impromptu meetings, and the promotions. But as the teaching leader reminded me, despite all that I was envying, I'd never trade them for what I had, because I valued what I had more than anything else.
The BSF lessons were about re-evaluating my own life. Through God's word, I was just given gentle reminders about what was truly important.

Now I'm part of a group that isn't the most enthusiastic. I have a group leader who is rarely available. When she is around, she barely gives us food for thought. The questions are answered in hurried succession. Nonetheless, I continue to enjoy the lectures, taking back lessons from them. I even enjoy my homework, that is often completed with help with Ro and our discussions. Now I'm waiting for Adiv to turn 2, so he can also start BSF classes for toddlers. Meanwhile Ro is waiting for me to finish my 7 years of BSF, so he can start his!
And......I'm still trying to make new friends!

Pigs Fly, Swine Flu

2009-08-16T09:19:00.000-07:00

Between diaper changes, hour-long feeds, and general housekeeping, I barely have the time to read the newspaper, let alone obssess about what's in it. So, i've been largely oblivious to the growing swine flu paranoia. Adiv and I went on our weekly trips to the farm, and I had my Bible class. Everyone I knew was well, and I had little reason to be apprehensive. Then suddenly, the death of a 4-year-old in Chennai caught my attention. Not very far from home, this little boy had succumbed to the H1N1 virus, and that news story planted the seed of fear in my heart. I began reading the newspaper, empathising with every victim, reading about their symptoms, and the ordeal they underwent. I tried memorizing names of hospitals we could go to, if we needed to get checked. Nevertheless, I prayed and hoped we'd never have to fight crowds for a single lifesaving dose of Tamiflu.

This paranoia grew quickly. The next day, I read about a 26-year-old school teacher who'd just been telling her students about the precautions they should take. After a brief battle, she'd passed away. Newspapers carried pictures of the victim, making this news story even more personal. I wondered about her children, her family, and how her death could have been prevented.

Then it got worse. We all had the sniffles. Adiv had fever for a day, and soon he was coughing. I started a low grade fever that was quelled with strong doses of Dolo 650. Then Pappa got very ill. He had high fever, a terrible cough and cold. When the crocin didn't help, he was taken to the doctor. Masked and ultra cautious, the doctor wrote him a few antibiotics and sent him back. The fever vanished almost immediately, only to return a day later. Then the paranoid doctor suggested that we get him tested for swine flu. Muttering prayers, and hoping for the best, he was the taken to Manipal hospital. There the doctor wasn't even remotely worried. He listened to his symptoms and sent him back saying he needed to finish his dose of medicines.
I spent the next few hours checking everyone's temperature in turns. Luckily, now everyone is well, and i'm making sure everyone washes their hands when they return from outside. We're being cautious as well, with limited trips to crowded places. Everyone is eating pods of garlic and cloves as a precaution, and the maid is being questioned repeatedly about her health.
This paranoia is probably here to stay for mothers of infants, but for the moment, i'm glad we are all fine.

Cruel Kids

2009-08-09T19:41:00.000-07:00

Children are fun! With innocence so endearing, and their incessant chatter so amusing, they play the most innovative of games. Armed with an active imagination, and an insatiable need to play and entertain, they amuse all those around them. Between themselves they fight, make up, and play more games, but on the whole they are a species willing to learn and explore. However, despite being a fascinating lot, if unchecked, they are the most cruel of all species. At a party recently, I witnessed just that.

Adiv loves most kids, though he has a definite preference for older boys who appear cooler because of the games they play. However, if shown the slightest interest, he will do all that is needed to befriend them. However, being the youngest in both our families, he is used to a lot of pampering. His older cousins are very indulgent with him, giving him their toys, entertaining him with their antics, and amusing him with music and dance sessions. So Rohit and I felt he needed to interact with other kids as well; kids who'd not be as patient or generous as the kids he was used to. So I began these weekly trips to a nearby farm for a mother and toddler program, where he'd get to interact with other kids and a whole lot of farm animals.

Then another opportunity came by, when we were invited to a birthday party. As the party was in an uncle's house, we got there early under the pretext of helping. But Adiv was busy trying on all their shoes, and I was busy trailing him. In time the other kids and their mommies began arriving. Initially the kids were all fascinated by eachother. The ones who knew eachother formed groups, and smiled at the others. Then they wandered into the bedroom and began strumming on a guitar. Adiv wasn't too pleased. He trying to push the other kids away, and when they refused to budge, took refuge in some loud, angry crying. I distracted him with other toys, and the promise of a trip on a bike. He wanted to play with the kids, but he still wasn't used to kids who weren't giving in. I tried explaining that he needed to share the guitar. I told the older kids that he was only one-and-a-half, and so they needed to show him how to use the guitar and play. They didn't seem too keen on playing with him. So they ran away, and he ran behind them laughing. He followed them tirelessly, while they tried to avoid him. One little girl who wasn't in their circle, sat quietly on a table, wearing a sad, solemn face. The kids who'd formed a gang, danced around her calling her names.

"Hey, she looks like a sadhu yaa."

"No she looks a like a donkey na?"

The girl looked down, ignoring all their taunts. Adiv stood next to her, examining her bangles. "Very pretty bangles", I told her, evoking a smile in response. "Ma got it", she said. She smiled at Adiv gently, and looked up at the other kids who were screaming "Monster Monster", at Adiv. Adiv thought it was fun game and ran behind them. They tried pushing him away, but I was trailing him making sure they didn't hurt him. They screamed and yelled, and eventually began a shower of insults.

"Oh no, the stupid boy is back."

"Little boy, you are such an idiot."

I was stunned. None of the children I knew were so cruel. They were attacking a little child who was trying to join in in their games. He was smiling at them and running behind them, and they were calling him names.

I came away that evening in a state of shock. None of the kids we knew in the family ever spoke so badly. They fought like all kids, but never called eachother names. I'd never seen them bully the quieter kids. When they had birthdays, they made sure all their guests were cared for. I had to make sure Adiv was like them. I wasn't going to allow bad language or bullying, but I'd have to encourage concern and friendship. I'd have to let him know that there was nothing cool about using bad language.

I realized suddenly that i was soon approaching a phase when i'd have to explain right from wrong. I'd have to set examples at home, applaud all goodness, and discourage all wrong doing. The little one was growing up and he needed the right lessons to grow in to a sensitive, considerate, smart, intelligent young man.

In the mean time, I'd also have to reconcile to the fact that not everyone was going to be good to my child.

The end of one chapter

2009-07-16T19:02:00.001-07:00

His death didn't come as a shock. He'd been ill for a long time, and this time it didn't seem like he was going to bounce back. Nevertheless, the family was optimistic. His swelling had gone down, and he'd begun eating. His only demand was, "I want to go home". After days, even the doctors relented. The nurses were pleased their gentle patient was finally on the mend. On Saturday night, he was coaxed into eating dinner amidst promises of going home on Monday. He even ate a slice of his grand daughter's birthday cake before going to bed. The family went home for a peaceful night's sleep. He was definitely better and coming home. Perhaps he'd live to a 112 like a relative of his? At 3 in the morning, he woke up thirsty, drank a glass of water, lay down and died. He didn't suffer.
*
Despite being prepared, everyone was shocked. I sat back and thought about him over the years. I met a much younger version of himself on the day when his son married my cousin. I was their flower girl, who followed them around till someone suggested I go and eat with the rest of the family. Then I saw him again over the years in either of our houses. He came over often with my cousin and her family, and theirs was the only house I felt comfortable enough to visit. He was friendly, hospitable, and the happiest if you sat down with him to watch a movie. He went on long walks every morning, and spent his sunday mornings in church. He loved a banana after each meal, and an egg with breakfast every day. At 4 he'd amble around asking for tea, and wait patiently if his daughter-in-law was resting. He pampered his grandchildren and looked upon his daughter-in-law as a daughter. A man with no formalities, he'd eat everything, sleep anywhere, and enjoy every trip he made. He liked going for weddings, meeting up with his friends, and he always looked a little sad when people left after a holiday. "Come again", he'd said. "I will also come". If not for him, I doubt if i'd have been half as comfortable going there as often as I did.
*
The funeral was in Coorg, as he wanted to be buried next to his wife. The family was coping well, though they'd all miss him terribly. We drove down from Bangalore to Mysore, where he had lived with his son, daughter-in-law and granddaughters. We checked into a hotel because the house would have been too crowded. However, even though we'd reached late, we decided to go to the house. At 11 in the night, we went there. He looked peaceful and fast asleep. Atleast the end hadn't been painful. The family was in different rooms, preparing for the funeral the next morning. Adiv was curious about why a man was lying inside a box. When he was taken closer, it scared him. After that he busied himself with a few helmets and games with the children in the house. He entertained everyone, and by 1 we decided to head back.
*
The funeral went off well. Despite the rains off and on, it didn't interfere with the burial. We spent part of it in the car, feeding Adiv who was quite restless. He wanted to run around, and we were holding on to him for fear of having him fall into all that slush.
After the burial, we drank some coffee, and drove to a nearby estate where lunch had been organized for everyone. We hadn't seen as much greenary in a long time. Lunch was well organized and in such a beautiful location. The lovely house lay nestled beside a pretty lake. And to get to this pretty house, you had to follow a driveway surrounded by tall green trees and reach their well manicured lawn and garden. The dogs barked furiously at being denied the excitement of having so many people over. We went to look at them, locked up in their cages.
After lunch, we said our goodbyes and drove back to Mysore. His family wept for him, but also shared amusing stories about him amidst smiles and laughter. It had been a beautiful end to that gentle soul.
As people who weren't related to him directly, we also sat around talking about him. We came away the next morning. With Adiv sleeping peacefully on my lap, I wondered if Adiv had been affected by this undeniable fact of life.

One Morning in a Farm

2009-07-09T18:37:00.000-07:00

Adiv's first trip to the farm was more fun than I'd anticipated. I was a wee bit apprehensive before we got there. I woke him up early for milk (so he'd poop and be done with it before we set out), and muttered hurried prayers while I got his food ready.

"Jesus, please let him be well behaved. Spare us the embarassing tantrums."

On the way to the farm, he fell asleep. Once we got there, he seemed to enjoy all the greenary, the distant barking of dogs, and Gerry's friendly welcome. We were directed to an open, cemented shed, where Gerry's wife Yamini sat mixing paints and getting the art projects ready. Meanwhile, after exchanging pleasantries, we busied ourselves with the toys arranged on the table. The other kids and mommies began arriving, and soon everyone was talking and playing. Initially Adiv wasn't so sure he wanted to share all those toys with the other kids, but eventually he got called for his art work. He sat on a little chair next to Yamini, and splashed paint on a piece of chart paper. He then gleefully dipped his fingers in paint, before giving his first masterpiece its final touches. He got off rather grudgingly, as the next child was waiting his turn. I distracted him with more blocks, while the other kids finished their paintings. Then, it was time to meet the animals. We first met and fed the geese. Adiv didn't seem even remotely scared. He ran towards them, while I tried to restrain him. Then it was time for the donkeys. Each child was given carrots to feed the donkeys. Adiv got his turn and enjoyed it. He even went searching for other carrots that he could feed the donkeys. He seemed to love Oscar, a friendly donkey who runs around, popping in every now and then for a pat or a tickle on the nose.

From there we went to the rabbits. They were fed carrots and beans. At one point, Adiv seemed to forcefeeding a rabbit who already had carrot in its mouth. I carried him out, and led him to the pig sty; a messy sight with two enormous pigs lounging in its midst. Between them, we spotted teeny piglets who were just two days old. Adiv was fascinated! On the way to the pig sty, we'd even felt the pregnant belly of a gentle cow. "Moo Moo" said Adiv, as he rubbed her patient belly.

After this enriching experience, the kids were led back into the play area, for their snack. Adiv gorged on the biscuits and watermelon, while I ate some of the delicious apple crumb cake that was served. The kids were given hot chocolate, while we mommies got tea or coffee. After our snack, it was time to pot a lily plant. A huge pot had to be filled with sand first, and the kids obliged only too happily, with little spades. Adiv merely dug into the pot with his little yellow spade. Then they used mugs to fill it up with water. Then Gerry planted the lily. The kids were then allowed to throw in fish and tadpoles. Adiv held on to his little fish for a few seconds with surprising gentleness. "Chisshh", he whispered in awe.

At the end of this activity, the kids were all tired and dirty. So we decided to part, amidst promises of returning every week for more. As we wandered out, we made one more stop. The huge netted trampoline beckoned to the kids. They enjoyed it, and Adiv seemed ecstatic, jumping on it. He laughed and ran in circles, falling, getting up, and jumping again. He was having so much fun, he didn't want to return. He was dragged back into the car, where he fell asleep almost immediately.

Thus ended our first Tuesday at Gerry's farm. Both Adiv and I look forward to more Tuesdays at the farm.

Pictures will follow later!

Mulanthurathy

2009-07-02T18:30:00.000-07:00

Last week, we drove down to my mom's ancestral home in Mulanthurathy. We were in Cochin for a wedding, and we'd kept aside one day to eat at the Grand, and do some sight seeing. So when a cousin suggested we drive down to Mulanthurathy, we agreed immediately. Adiv slept peacefully in the car, while we enjoyed tales from the distant past. 45 minutes later, we drove in to what seemed like a developing town; shops, beauty parlors, offices! However, our disappointment was soon replaced with excitement when we turned into the road leading to the house. Suddenly it was dark, and the narrow winding road seemed surrounded by rubber trees and old homes. Part of the road had been tarred, but mostly it was a kutcha road.
As we approached the house, we saw it from a distance, standing in dignified silence. An old aging house that had witnessed several births and deaths, good times and bad, it now lay vacant. It however continued to have an aura of mystery surrounding it. The pictures in the house just made it more interesting.

My great grandfather, Kunjikora Chaly

Kunjokorah Chaly's father, Kochukorah Chaly
Kochukorah Chaly was a visionary in his time. Educated and friend to the Cochin Maharaja, he built roads, a hospital, and a school in Mulanthurathy. He did however use his influence to his advantage, when he transfered the Parimala Thirumeni from the Mulanthurathy church. The Thirumeni left, giving the family a curse. Then began the downfall of the Chalys. However, the Thirumeni also blessed another poor family who offered him rest and food in their house. That started the rise of the well known Kandathil family in Kerala.
The naalu kettu or inner courtyard

Wooden staircase leading to the top floor

Upstairs window overlooking the naalu kettu

We enjoyed this Jackfruit later Surrounded by rubber trees
We also went to this older ancestral tharavadu that wasn't very far from the house we'd visited. Supposedly haunted by the spirit of a manservant who was murdered centuries ago, this house has been desserted for years. Noone lives here anymore, and not many children come and play within its compounds. Legend has it that 6 pots of gold were hidden in this house. 4 of these pots were recovered and displayed in various homes. 2 are yet to be discovered. A house with a separate building that once housed soldiers and stables for horses and an elephant, now stands alone, an aging, tired, decrepit soul. We walked around the house, soaking up the silence and all the legendary tales that surrounded it.

Then, after this short halt, we were off to Cochin, to our next destination; Karimeen at the Grand!

Happy Father's Day

2009-06-20T19:24:00.001-07:00

Happy Father's Day to the man who taught me how to tie my shoelaces and sharpen my pencils. He always held my hand while crossing the road, and when eagerly awaiting an approaching wave at the beach. He taught me how to be organized, and always be loyal to family. He taught me that no matter what your means are, you can always help someone who needs it. He gave me ambition and his temper. But he also gave me his sentimental streak and fondness for hindi songs. He taught me that money comes and goes, but family stays.

Happy Father's Day to my father.

SURPRISE!!!

2009-06-04T21:19:00.000-07:00

In the last year, surprise parties have become a way of life. It began with an aunt, who was whisked away for lunch and a movie, while her family arranged an elaborate party with friends, family, and exotic food. Suspecting nothing, she returned to a house full of people who screamed surprise. It was fun! So when Ro's sister was due to have a birthday weeks later, we decided we'd give her a surprise too.

Ro's parents were visiting then, so they were let in on our plans. The rest of the family was invited with strict instructions on when they should arrive. We got some party hats everyone, a chocolate mousse cake, and lots of kebabs and biriyani. To be absolutely sure she wouldn't suspect a thing, we decided to have the party on a weekend before her birthday.

On that day, we were all set ahead of time. The guests arrived on time, and when we heard she'd come, we all hid in the kitchen. Rohit let her in, and she came in innocently, asking where Adiv was. A few more steps, and we shocked her with our loud "SURPRISE", and a lot of blinding flashes. She seemed embarassed, but the rest of us couldn't stop laughing. We got her to cut her cake, before everyone settled down for starters and eventually dinner. The party had been a success.

Another month passed, and the next birthday was due. Ro's uncle was turning 60, and the family wanted to give him a surprise. His wife and sons made arrangements in a nearby resort, and again made sure everyone knew when they had to make an appearance. This uncle was having guests on that day, so he generously decided to take them out for dinner. His sons knowingly suggested the resort. So he walked in with his guests, sons, and wife. The steward guided him to the top floor, and before he knew it, he saw a lot of familiar faces scream, "Surprise". He seemed visibly surprised, and was at a loss for words. Everyone ran forward to congratulate him and hand him presents, before his grand nephew recited a self written poem, his grand nieces sang him songs, and his son made a speech. What followed was champagne, a lot of alchohol, cake, and a lot of food. Incidentally, his wife who was celebrating her birthday the next day, also got her own cake to cut. A fun evening!

The family still hadn't had enough! The next surprise was Ro's. His uncle invited us allover for dinner, and Ro innocently walked in on another round of "SURPRISE"! The food was delicious (it always is).

Months later, the next birthday was due. Adiv turned one and we had a huge party for him. The surprise wasn't for him, but for my mother got to celebrate her 60th on that day. After Adiv cut his cake, her cake was brought out. She was mortified, but once everyone began singing for her, it was fun.

Days earlier, Rohit's aunt in Kerala, after correcting a few papers (she is a teacher) thought she was going out to lunch with her son, daughter-in-law, and daughter. Instead, she walked into a hall filled with family who'd come from allover, friends, and colleagues. Some entertained her with stories from the past, after which she cut a huge cake. Though we weren't there, i'm pretty sure the feast that followed was the best.

You'd think this was enough! But another aunt's birthday was due. Fearing such a surprise, she announced quite early on that she wanted no presents and surprises. She invited everyone over for brunch, making sure that there would be no surprise. But the family had other plans.

We all landed up in her house at 7 in the morning. Rohit's uncle and aunt came armed with coffee and breakfast. The birthday girl's daughter let us all in. We went in quietly and stood in the living room. And when the birthday girl wandered into the living room with her cup of coffee, she was welcomed with a huge round of SURPRISE! The cake was brought out, candles lit, and flowers handed out. She was thrilled! What followed was some delicious breakfast. The brunch/lunch still went on as planned.

Keeping in this tradition of surprising people on their birthdays, we are off to Chennai tomorrow. It is my Dad's birthday tomorrow, and he doesn't know we'll be coming over. I'm sure his expression will be worth capturing on camera!

Rohan's Sendoff Party

2009-06-01T18:51:00.000-07:00

Rohan's sendoff was fun. After the previous nights dinner (and clearing up), we woke up late on Sunday. By the time we crawled out of bed and ate some breakfast, it struck me that the maid hadn't come as yet. A frantic call to her husband confirmed that she wasn't coming. So I was forced to shrug off all laziness and get to work. Adiv got music to dance to, Ro went for his bath, and I hoped I'd be able to finish washing all the vessels. I gave up eventually, because we were getting late. Ro got Adiv ready, and I cleaned up. To cut the long story short, by the time we were ready to go it was 1.30.

"Hopefully the barbeque is still on", i said. But knowing the family's penchant for good food, we could also be sure that there would be a LOT of it, even if we were late. So when we got there, the barbeque was still on, and more food was still being brought onto the table. The guest of honour hadn't arrived as yet, but everyone was tucking into generous helpings of pork chops and chicken with honeyed-onion salad. Meanwhile, Nisha was bringing out Alexchayen's potato skins (with huge helpings of bacon), buns (home-made), fish (with an unusual, citrous flavor), Lathukocchamma's Shepherd's pie, Maekocchamma's spinach and corn bake, mutton curry, mixed salad and saffron rice. The table was full, and once we were done with lunch, a few plates were pushed aside for the desserts. Lemon meringue, apricot mousse, and cheese cake! Without revealing too much, I will just say I had more than one helping....of each!

The highlight of the afternoon was the entertainment. After a full meal, just when most people were settling down comfortably for a nap, the kids decided to start a band. Instruments were handed out, and everyone began playing. Mrinal gave this music some tune with his flute. Eventually the group settled for dance music. CDs were taken out, and one was selected. Then all eyes were turned to Adiv. Everyone was waiting for his twists.
Adiv who is usually oblivious to people staring at him, now seemed very conscious. He lowered his eyes, gave everyone a coy smile, moved his hip once or twice, and then gave up. The family decided to encourage him by dancing along. Soumtro, Mrinal, Alexchayen, Lathukoch..everyone began moving to the beat. Adiv merely smiled and ran for cover. He wasn't going to perform.

The day wasn't going too well for him. Except for Mrinal, the girls were playing games he didn't want to play. Shalaka suggested they play "marriage marriage", and Tia took out her makeup kit to dress up the girls. In turns she put on lipstick, eye shadow and rouge. Yana was the first one to get dressed up. Then Trisha, who was very excited and willing, though not very sure about what eye shadow was. Shalaka went last, and she finished her new look with a pair of funny glasses and a brightly colored dupatta. The girls then posed for pictures, before Mrinal decided to get creative with the makeup. He gave himself a black eye and then went upstairs and returned with more makeup. This time he looked like he'd been beaten up purple, blue, red...! He definitely has the talent for an alternate career.

The day ended with some tea, after which we set off to get a new rug and cushions for Adiv's room. That's another story.

Happy Mother's Day!

2009-05-10T02:15:00.000-07:00

From having to exchange my late mornings for several sleepless nights, relaxed lunches in restaurants for hurried bites in turns, Josh Groban singing Per Te for Raffi singing "We're on the way to Grandpa's farm", hours in the book store for hours in the play ground, an evening at a play for an evening in a house with kids......motherhood sure had changed my life quite a bit! Nevertheless, every milestone met, every smile, every dance move, every excitable clap, and every form of communication has brought with it oodles of satisfaction and pride. Being a mother was tough, and a good one even thougher. Nevertheless, it was best experience ever!

A lot has changed since my last mother's day. Adiv walks..sorry..runs! He says a few words (or atleast makes these attempts that Ro and I can comprehend), dances to popular Bollywood tunes (and Justin Timberlake), and screams Yaaaaaay (like his mother) every time the current comes. On a not-so-windy day, he enjoys his evenings splashing in the pool, and spends his days in, driving his inflatable car on the carpet. He knows cold (co) from hot (also co), and follows every gulp of juice with a satisfactory Aaaaaah. He still enjoys Elmo on Sesame street, but also knows a lot of the ads on TV (especially the ones with pretty women and cars). He loves his bikkis (biscuits) and is force-fed one nutritious meal, but is always ready for some yummy icecream or chee (cheese). He prefers fish, though he likes his chiya (chicken), and knows that anything he isn't allowed to drink (but others drink them) is followed by a "Yuck! That was horrible"! Brushing his teeth is fun, especially when it comes with the added perk of biting Mimi's fingers, and combing his hair is fun only when he is allowed to do it himself. He loves it when we play football, and hides his books when he has had enough ABCs and 123s for the day. He can spend hours talking on phone to noone in particular, and still be very silent when someone asks to speak to him on the phone. He isn't in the least bit shy of strangers, though he prefers young women to young men, and old men to old women! He can strike a bargain in the playfield (with a bigger 3-yr-old) by exchanging 3 pebbles for a ball he wanted, and still insist that you drink or eat something he loves. In short, the small baby is growing into an interesting, fun, and amusing character. Now, this is just the beginning!

I wrote a good omelet...and ate a hot poem

2009-05-06T02:41:00.001-07:00

I wrote a good omelet...and ate a hot poem...
after loving you

Buttoned my car...and drove my coat home...in the
rain...
after loving you

I goed on red...and stopped on green....floating
somewhere in between...
being here and being there...
after loving you

I rolled my bed...turned down my hair...slightly
confused but...I don't care...
Laid out my teeth...and gargled my gown...then I stood
...and laid me down...
to sleep...
after loving you

-- Nikki Giovanni

Update to Adiv Says...

2009-04-07T03:52:00.000-07:00

He calls me Ma-Ma or just Ma... and not Dada like i hoped he would ... that was just a one-off day. To top it off, R encourages him to call me that!!!
Maybe I'm his real "Mom"

Adiv says...

2009-03-24T23:28:00.000-07:00

Over the past couple of months, Adiv has been attempting conversation with the limited vocabulary that he's developed. His favorite word being KA - which would mean everything from water, a poopy diaper, a car, a bike, a tricycle and so on (Karnataka too perhaps - maybe he can read the registration number on our car ;-) ). Somewhere along the line, he also started words like mamamama or appachapapacha and we drew interpretations to what that meant. a couple of times he'd point to me and say mamma and I would vehemently correct him sayin... "I'm not mamma - that person there is mamma... I'm Dada".
Last week however, I'd tell him - "Go call Ammi" and he'd go stand near R and endearingly call her "Mi... Mi... Mi....Mi.." which is when i realized that i wanted him to call me "Dada" too. No matter how hard i tried getting him to say it, he didn't look in the least bit interested.
Over the past couple of weeks, Adiv has been on a new routine. We've been waking him up early so that he eats breakfast with me before I leave for work and I get to spend sometime with him. The routine works well, because he doesn't wake up at night for milk and is quite hungry when he is woken up at 7am.
Today however, we decided against waking him up and letting him sleep in as he had a late night. When I left home this morning, he was still asleep. However, as I was nearing my workplace, I received a text message from R which made my day - "Adiv got up and went around looking for you. Then he looked at me and said 'Dada?' "
Can't wait to get back home...

Adiv - Since Turning 1

2009-03-24T04:49:00.000-07:00

After his birthday party, Adiv decided crawling was just too much of a hassle. Walking was definitely more fun. Then, even walking took a back seat. Running was way cooler, especially when you weren't holding Me's (That's moi) hand.

So that's my excuse for neglecting the blog. Now I spend my time running after Adiv, picking up after him, entertaining him, teaching him, and keeping him from getting hurt. The last one is a little tough though. A little bang here, a slip there, and a lot of wailing have become common now, and my mommy heart is finally getting tougher. If he isn't bleeding, vomitting or looking dizzy, he is probably okay! And to be absolutely sure, the doctor is just a phone call away!

Despite the fact that life is a lot busier now, it is also a lot more fun. He communicates rather well, though he doesn't say a lot. His first word was sadly neither Ammi/Mamma/Mummy or Dada. It was Car! He loves the car, and spends a lot of time behind the steering wheel pretending to drive. However, he never begins, unless he has worn Dada's sunglasses first. Then the music. You can't possibly drive without music (mostly Raffi when he is awake, and Radio Indigo after he has slept). After these few minutes of mimicing Dada, he is carried out amidst loud protests. Then one day, Dada decided to get a bike. Adiv wasn't sure he liked the bike as much as he liked the car. The car came with music and an airconditioner, didn't it?

At home,his cycles are his car and bike (the bigger cycle being the car, and the smaller one his bike). Like Dada who goes to work with his laptop, Adiv climbs on to his cycle with any bag that he can carry.

Yes, Dada is the big hero. What Dada eats, he'll eat, and what Dada does he'll do. ME takes care of his poopy diaper, his food, and his entertainment. Yeah, I sing, dance, and offlate, we've begun aerobics together. In an attempt to lose all my mommy weight (yeah yeah, I had him 14 months ago..but you need atleast a year before you lose the weight), I got myself a Jane Fonda video. I got the video months ago; and then told myself i'd taken the first step to losing weight (buying the video ofcourse). It took me several more months to start. With Adiv entertaining himself, it is a lot easier now. And when I need weights, I just pick him up!

Adiv is also proving to be quite a dancer. He has different moves for different beats. Now that gene he doesn't get from me. Dancing brings back distant memories of school, when I chose bharatnatyam classes over PT under the sun. I moved my fingers well, but not my body. So most often, I was just sitting around watching and applauding. Later in college, I danced only in discos (there was no threat of being mocked when surrounded by drunk people in places that had blinking lights). I did however enjoy music. I sang too, and spent a lot of time listening to music. I must take part credit for that gene of Adiv's. Since Ro is also musically inclined (he plays instruments by ear!!), I can't take full credit for the music gene.

So now, when we are in the midst of people, Adiv takes care of entertainment. Ro takes care of drinks, I pass around the eats, and Adiv dances, amusing everyone.

The little fellow is also quite the businessman in the making. On most evenings, you'll find us in the play area. Adiv sometimes takes his ball along, so he can play with his older friends (other one-year-olds bore him). I think he prefers older boys coz he thinks they are cooler, and they are also more indulgent. They usually let him have his way. But not this little fellow in the building. Two years older (though physically a LOT bigger), this innocent is a regular at the play area as well. He comes with his ball, his grandmother, and a live-in maid. In the beginning he was wary of Adiv. I'm assuming, the sight of a 1-year-old running excitedly towards you, saying gibberish is scary. Anyway, in time they were best friends. However, he still wasn't ready to share. Adiv had his own ball ofcourse, but he wanted his ball too. So he struck a deal. He gave him two pebbles in exchange for his ball. The other fellow agreed immediately. He happily pocketed the pebbles, and Adiv sat on the ground hugging two balls!

Adiv's world is fairly simple. He knows he can depend on his parents, despite all the disciplining that can be very annoying I'm sure. He loves Priyanka Chopra, prefers noodles over rice, and likes biting into an apple, enjoys bathtime, cuddles Pooh Bear and Elmo, drives his car, reads his books with as much fascination each time, messes up a well-made bed, loves shoes, knows he can melt his Me's heart with kisses, dances to Desi Girl, enjoys cooking, knows where dirty clothes should go, comes up with the most amazing games on his own, gets Dada and Me to play football.....................................................................................!

So yeah, life just become a lot more eventful! Adiv is a handful, but not a single day goes by when I don't think about what a miracle he is. Though we're teaching him about life, he has begun opening our mind to the simpler pleasures of life. In short, life is busy, but life is good!

Adiv turns 1

2009-02-06T00:42:00.000-08:00

Admist much fanfare, Adiv turned 1! Though his birthday was on the 19th of January, celebrations began early. He had a party on the 17th with close family, where he got an Elmo cake, a lot of presents, and his first taste of chocolate cake. Both sets of grandparents, my brother from the US, Ro's sister and family, and several uncles and aunts were there to cheer him on, as he cut his first birthday cake.

Christmas in Hyderabad

2009-01-01T22:36:00.001-08:00

Adiv's first Christmas was a lot of fun. We spent the week in Hyderabad, where Rohit's family was only too keen on pampering the little fellow. Adiv spent his days playing fun games with his slightly older cousins, walking around the house holding his grandfather's hand, listening to his grandmother's nursery rhymes, and eating very little. In the confines of our room, I made frantic attempts at feeding him, but he seemed more keen on crawling out to play. (Only later did I find that he'd lost his appetite because of a ear infection).
We visited Rohit's aunts, went to Church on Christmas day (Adiv was a good boy in Church), and gorged on a lot of delicious Hyderabad Biriyani and fruit cake (a family recipe).
I had a lot of fun too. Rohit's little nieces were a treat. I introduced them to youtube, told them tales of Santa and his reindeers. On Christmas eve, they went to bed promising to wake me up when Santa came with his sack of presents (We were going to touch Rudolph's red nose). They hoped they'd be in his "Good" list, and were only too thrilled when they woke up to a lot of presents carefully placed beneath the tree. They searched for presents that had their names, and waited patiently till we'd returned from Church to open them. I'd even written them two letters from Santa, telling them they'd been good girls, and that they should continue to be good in the coming year. They were so excited about their presents, one of them even asked me innocently, "Where did Santa buy these presents?"

Now I'm waiting for Adiv to grow up, so he'll also begin to enjoy the magic of Christmas!

Sing Along!

2008-12-14T22:21:00.000-08:00

Like a lot of couples, we have our song. However, our song doesn't talk about unconditional, everlasting love. On the contrary, it tells the tale of a woman living the life of regret. In her youth, she saw places, met people, and lived life, barely recognizing what she to feel complete. And now, it is too late.

Ro and I mostly listen to Charlene's "I've never been to me" in the car. We sing along, dissect every line in the song, and listen to it over and over again till we've reached our destination. Eventually we debate over whether this song is more tragic than Brad Paisley's "Whiskey Lullaby"! I think it is.
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=ezBWBf36724
Now, before you think of us as a much-married boring couple, I must let you in on another favorite of ours, Besame Mucho. It was Sanjaya who first entertained us with his version of this Andrea Bocelli hit. Ro learnt it up, and would sing it on demand. For a while, Ro's version was also my ringtone. Romantic eh?
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=gPRESlT4Ccg
Now that Adiv is around, he decides much of what we listen to. In the car it is almost always Raffi (Ro and I have learnt up many of his songs).
http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=ewtY35mOBXg
And when we're home, Adiv and I listen to songs on youtube. He moves to Justin Timberlake (Bringing Sexy Back) and Shakira (Hips Don't Lie), but he also enjoys Sesame Street. In our list of favorites we have Elmo and the Goo Goo Dolls (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=SAR5Vw9Bvts), Feist (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=9fciD_II7NI), Andrea Bocelli (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=lv38j4lPzd0), and Norah Jones (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=-c3fvqNlFvc&feature=related) among others. Other favorites include the Elephant Song that I hope to perform with Adiv when he is older (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=yihq8BIhL9c), Papa Pinguin (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=eKG08z85DtY) and the Lonely Goatherd (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=CaD9Ozdthg8). So if I'm online, it usually means we're youtubing.
Ro is hoping I won't steer him away from rock music, but for the moment I'm introducing Adiv to all kinds of music.
Anyway, now that Adiv is fast asleep and Ro is at work, I'm off to listen to favorite of mine! Isobel, by Dido (http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=I6KVDbDDreI)

In God's Own Country

2008-12-06T11:18:00.000-08:00

The trip to Kerala saw many firsts. It was Adiv's first overnight train journey, the first time he'd meet a lot of my uncles and aunts, and the first time i'd take on the duties of a sister-in-law at my cousin's wedding. So I was excited, though a tad bit apprehensive about how Adiv would handle the new eager faces, and the sudden change in routine and weather.

The train journey was tedious. The newly curtained and upholstered second AC compartment was a huge let down. The AC wasn't functioning, the berths were narrower, and the compartment was filled with roaches. Adiv who is used to a lot of space, found sharing a berth rather annoying. He woke up quite a few times, drinking water and tugging at his clothes. He was drenched in sweat. Eventually, I sat up, deciding to give him more space. A pregnant fellow-traveller who was snacking then smiled at me.
"Few months later, i'll be in your shoes", she whispered excitedly.
That was all the encouragement I needed. I flaunted my experience. I gave her parenting tips, reassured her about her fears, and marketed my pediatrician. While we we chatted, Ro lay on the top berth reading "The Last Lecture", waiting patiently for Palghat, where he hoped to have his fill of appam and mota roast.

A few coffees, and some disappointing idlies later, we were welcomed into Cochin Town by the scorching heat, and the excited faces of my parents. Adiv immediately jumped into my father's arms, looking rather pleased. They gushed about how much he'd grown and how sweet he was, while he lapped up all the attention with a smug expression on his face.

What followed were numerous visits. First there was breakfast (the second one I must add) in my uncle's house, followed by a bigger spread (lunch) in my aunt's house. I gorged on the chicken, took numerous helpings of the salad (with lots of mayo) and handed out presents I'd brought for all the kids. The children were curious about Adiv, who was fast asleep by then. When he woke up, he caused quite an uproar. He upset a 4-year-old by putting his toy in his mouth and rearranging his pillows. But in no time they were friends again, sharing toys (Adiv did much of the taking) and asking questions (Why is the baby making that face?).
A 2-year-old was more open about displaying her displeasure. After her byes to Adiv went unnoticed, she pulled his hair. He put up a brave front, refusing to cry. However, when noone was looking he pulled her hair. That cemented their friendship.

That evening, we went to the pre-wedding party, where there was lots to eat and drink. A disco had been set up on the second floor, and it came alive hours later when the groom-to-be began dancing to some popular tunes. For the first few hours, the room with loud music and blinding lights only saw groups of men (with their drinks), standing against the walls, gently tapping their feet.

The wedding itself was a much-awaited, grand event. Preparations had begun months in advance. For me that meant trying out my blouse every day, to make sure I didn't gain too much weight. Adiv wore a silk kurtha, but not for long. After the first set of pictures, I changed him into a more comfortable t-shirt. Then I travelled with the groom in the best (read "nicely air-conditioned") car. I handed out some last-minute marital advice, amidst yawns (the car was so comfortable). The groom who also claimed to be tired, yawned and feigned pre-marital jitters, till he saw his beautiful bride-to-be. Then he could barely disguise his pleasure. They gave eachother special smiles across cars, a private moment that was rudely interrupted by the numerous photographers. I also smiled, and waddled out (yes, I've been told I walk like a duck in a saree)hoping I'd not trip.
The wedding was long. Ro and I spent our time looking at the clock in front. My duties began after the thali was tied. The bride's sister who was standing behind her moved away, so I could take her position. All I had to do was make sure the bride's mathrakodi saree didn't fall off her head. And after the wedding, I had to fold the saree she was going to wear at the reception and put it on her arm. They smiled, and posed for pictures, while we rushed to the hall. I also had duties in the hall, where four of us were to help the newly-weds cut their cake.

The food was excellent. Beef, fish, chicken, veggies, rice, Appams, romali rotis.....4 different kinds of juices, dessert, etc etc! Despite the heat, we tucked in and continued praising the food even when we were leaving.
After that we rushed back to change. Ro and I changed into comfortable clothes, and Adiv was allowed to sit around in his diaper. He moved from person to person, only too happy with all the attention he was getting. He smiled and cooed, much to everyone's pleasure. He clapped, closed his eyes, and showed them his feet (as trained by us before we left) much to everyone's amusement.

The trip consisted of many visits to many houses. We were fed everywhere, and I was glad the wedding was over. Atleast now I didn't have to worry about the blouse. We had fun meeting people we hadn't seen in two years. We were tired, but we enjoyed the trip.
Now we're gearing up for the next set of holidays; Christmas in Hyderabad, New-Year in Chennai, and Adiv's first b'day in Bangalore. Can't believe how time flies!

A Ghost Story

2008-10-31T21:34:00.000-07:00

Adiv and I had a lazy friday. We woke up later than usual, oblivious to the fact that Rohit had to gone to work at 6.45. I woke up at 9, got myself a bowl of cornflakes, and continued reading "Behenji". By 10.30, I decided Adiv had to wake up.
"Wakey wakey time Tuttoo," I said loudly.
No reaction.
Finally I played a song on my mobile, and he jumped up smiling and rubbing his eyes.
The maid wasn't coming, so we had the day to ourselves. I made our beds, gave Adiv his breakfast, and brought out his toys. I turned on the radio, and danced to a popular song. Adiv looked up, smiled, and moved to the beat, his hands up in the air. Just then, we heard the friendly radio jockey, lure her listeners with a grand prize. To win it, we had to tell her a ghost story.

"This might be interesting", I told Adiv who was contemplating between putting either Gladys the cow, or a big red block into his mouth.

The first caller was on air.
"We went into the woods, and suddenly I heard a baby cry. It was spooky. It just had to be a ghost."
"It could have been a baby", said the RJ, trying to stifle her laughter.
Anyway, after thanking him, she played a few more songs.

"Maybe I should tell her a story", I thought to myself. I pulled out my mobile that was now in Adiv's mouth, and sent a quick SMS.
"You can't not believe in ghosts, when you've been to the most haunted place in the world", I typed, wearing a smile on my face. She would definitely call after that message, and I'd get my 40 seconds of fame (even if it meant only the jobless were tuned it at that time!).

As I predicted, she called.
"Hi Roopa", said a chirpy, friendly voice. "How are you?"
"Great. How are you", I responded with an equally chirpy, excited tone.
I gushed(lied) about how Adiv and I spent our days listening to radio.
"How cute", she responded.
We eventually got to my message. "So you have a story for me?"

I told her about our three-day holiday in York, a place that is marketed as being the most haunted place in Europe. In York, we'd visited all the museums that boasted of ghost sightings, walked along the city walls, and eaten the best doughnuts ever.
We'd heard many ghost stories while we were there. Sadly, we hadn't seen any.

Anyway, I was eventually on air telling my story. I told Bangalore about the eccentric old man, who'd built a huge house near the cathedral. He lived in his house with several servants, and no family to speak off. Anyway, in his will, he promised to keep his house open to tourists.
"But if you move anything, I'll haunt the place", he threatened. But this isn't the Ghost story I was going to tell Bangalore.
This house had more ghosts than it's beloved owner. An electrician working in the basement claimed that he'd seen a group of roman soldier marching across the room.
The ghosts seemed oblivious to his shocked presence. Interestingly, they took a path that was once a roman street. The city of York as we know it today, was built over a roman city. Archeologists are still working on the remnants of that era.

"Wow", said the RJ. "That was amazing. I've never heard about foreign ghosts," she laughed. I laughed and disconnected after being told that I might just win the grand prize.
What followed were frantic calls to Rohit and my mother. "I was on radio. I might win a prize." I didn't think the guy in the woods stood a chance. My story was definitely better, and I wanted that grand prize.
I waited for them to call back, telling me I'd won. I couldn't listen to radio, coz an excited Adiv had meddled with the radio, while i was bragging about my 40 seconds of fame.

Anyway, as with the cookery contest, I didn't win the big prize here either. Ironically, I was hoping for a prize I'd never have used. If I'd won, I'd have got a gift voucher to the hard rock cafe; hardly possibly with a baby having the sniffles. I was making generous plans of giving it to Rohit's young cousin.

Rohit believes they might still decide to give me the prize. So the wait continues!:)

One big spoon and two leftover cakes

2008-10-20T23:17:00.000-07:00

I am no cook!
After my wedding, I went to London armed with a few handwritten recipes and three books by B.F.Varughese. It was there that I began my culinary experiments on Ro. He encouraged all failed attempts with positive criticism, and praised all of my hits.

I've come a long way since then, proving to myself that if I can cook, anyone can. With this confidence egging me on, I took part in a cookery contest on Sunday. The enthusiastic association at my building complex was organizing a cookery contest, after a series of other fun events such as the inhouse olympics and the onam celebrations. I was hesitant initially, but Rohit insisted we take part. I agreed immediately, thinking he was going to make his signature dessert, the banoffee pudding. The palpitations began when I saw my own name in the list of participants.

"Why did you give my name? I was going to help you," i told the dessert expert in the house, Ro.
"You can do it. Why don't you make your bengali fish curry," he urged.
This bengali fish curry had by now become a hit. I'd made it on a few ocassions, and the guests had left licking their fingers. But I wasn't sure I could make it for 100 people.
"Okay, how about that pineapple pudding", he asked.
"For 100 people, it would be tough," I responded.
"Okay, I'll make a biscuit pudding. Get me some rum", I offered.
"Maybe we'll get the judges drunk enough to make us winners," I joked.
"Great! I'll get the rum", replied an excited Ro.

However, Ro's aunt was also making a biscuit pudding, so we had to change our plans again.
"I'll make the coconut loaf cake in lemon sauce", I said.
"Okay. So shall I send that in?"
"Yeah."
We were both excited.

The contest was on Sunday, and I was going to spend my Saturday baking. I decided to bake 4 cakes, and Ro was going to look after Adiv. We woke up late (despite the alarm) on Saturday, and after tea and late breakfast, I went to buy vegetables. By the time I got back it was time for a yoga class I'd promised to attend.
"I'll be back in an hour's time" i promised. "I'll start baking after I return."
Yoga class went on for longer than I'd imagined. By the time I got back, Adiv who was happily playing with his Dada realized he was hungry and demanded that he be fed. Ro had already made his lunch, so he was fed, then we fed ourselves, and then it was time to bathe Adiv. After his bath Adiv fell asleep, and so did we. I got up grudgingly, deciding to check my mail once before getting busy. I checked my mail, finished two games of Word Twist, and by then Adiv was up again. Anyway, to cut the long story short, no baking was done on Saturday. At 12 in the night, I panicked, and got Rohit to grate 4 coconuts for me.

The alarm was set for 5 now, but I woke up with much difficulty at 6.20. I brushed my teeth, drank some coffee, and then began work. The ingredients had all been bought on Friday. So i measured the right quantities of flour and put it through a seive. In a mixing bowl, I creamed butter and sugar, seperated egg yolks in another container, and before I knew it the first cake was ready.
"It is any good."
I was apprehensive.
Ro cut us both a generous piece.
"Umm. It's delicious"
"Cut a slice for the maid. She was watching me make it."
"Bahut accha hai Didi", she responded.
The next three cakes were made in quick succession. Adiv peeked in from time to time wondering why Ammi wasn't giving him as much attention.

After quick lunch, I bathed Adiv and put him to sleep. Then Ro and I quickly made our lemon sauce. Everything seemed perfect, and we were already discussing the grand prize. By the time Adiv woke up, we were all set. The three of us got ready, packed our food, and set off to the basement of the other block where the food fest was going to be held. The aroma guided us, and we were shown to our stall. I was placed between the gaajhar ka halwa and a multi-coloured custardy, fruit dessert. In comparison my coconut loaf cake seemed rather dull I thought. But we had plans of serving each slice with a generous helping of lemon sauce, and some grated coconut.

Unfortunately, the organizers hadn't named my stall. They probably didn't know what I was making, so they merely wrote dessert there. This worked to our disadvantage because most people thought I was just giving them cake and custard. I told everyone who came by what I had made, but i'm sure my voice was drowned by the loud music that Adiv seemed to enjoy so much. After a while I gave up, focussing on all the food I wanted to eat; chennai chicken, chettinad chicken, orange chicken, prawn curry, crab curry, bengali fish curry, kerala fish curry, stuffed chicken, chicken roast, shahi paneer, stuffed capsicum (prize winner, but this winner is a chef at the Taj and so we weren't surprised), chaats, barbequed chicken, chicken stew, fish mollee, carrot halwa, kheer, biscuit pudding, fruit truffle, irish pudding, dahi vada etc etc etc. The stalls were endlness, and we just couldn't wait to taste them all.
My dessert was a hit with the kids who wanted a piece of cake, but no lemon sauce. The adults went straight for the puddings. So at the end, I had one big spoon (i lost one) for participation, and 2 uneaten cakes (I made 4). Rohit and Adiv clapped enthusiastically as I went to pick up my spoon, and Rohit promised to finish up whatever was left. I brought back the grated coconut that I'd left for garnishing as well, after emphatically correcting someone who thought the grated coconut was my dessert. Nevertheless, we had a great time. I met a lot of new people, and when we were back we had a lot to laugh about.

9 Months Old

2008-10-19T23:07:00.000-07:00

All set to travel

2008-09-25T05:35:00.000-07:00

A picture for his passport!

I like Wearing Ammi's Tee-shirt!

2008-09-19T20:41:00.000-07:00

The Photograph

2008-09-08T20:55:00.000-07:00

When I knew her, she was a lot older, though no less fun. She enacted out various nursery rhymes, made futile attempts at dancing, sent me letters filled with drawings, encouraged any sign of talent, and pampered me even when I feigned illness.

For the longest time, I always thought of her home as mine. A fairly inhibited child, I was myself only in her house. I played games in her backyard, watched Sesame Street on her ancient Black and White television set, and had my fill of bread, butter, jam (continues to be my comfort food today) during tea time. Occasionally she let me listen to her heartbeat with her stethoscope. Once we even performed surgery on a doll she made herself. She wrapped a piece of white cloth around a bottle, and drew two eyes, a nose, and a mouth on it.

I enjoyed going out with her. In hand-pulled rickshaws, we'd go to the market. I'd carry a small bag for a few vegetables, and we'd stop over at a sweet shop nearby, where she'd pick laddoos for the evening. One birthday, we went to the bakery instead, where I stood on a stool watching the baker carefully mark a beautiful cake with my name.

In the kitchen, she let me help even if i was being messy. I'd monitor the maids, authoritatively, pointing out corners that hadn't been swept. Otherwise I'd play with my dolls, listen in on conversations she had with Mummy, stare back at Mona Lisa (Mona Lisa Kochamma, as she tutored me to say), and hang from the windows talking to anyone who cared to listen. At times I'd wear a sari, she'd kept aside for me, and walk around with an air of importance. In the evening, Mummy, Ash, and I would walk to the park, where I'd look out for the ice cream vendor. We'd return in time for tea, when the family gathered in the dining room, talking.

As I grew older, she continued to be involved in my life; showing an interest in the books I read (She read one Nancy Drew before she died), making me chicken soup on a day off, and talking to my teacher about why I disliked going to school. When I began having fun in school, she was the most interested. I'd tell her about that play in which I merely had to drop dead, or the school choir that I'd become part off. I resumed my Carnatic music classes, but rarely ever sang in public. In a dilapidated building that housed minimal furniture, a mat, and an old harmonium, I sang without any inhibitions. A shy child, I promised I'd sing to her when she returned from Bombay.

*
A lot changed after her death. I found the courage to sing in competitions, and act in plays with spoken parts. I won prizes, and continued singing in school. In college, I began writing short stories and articles, some of which made to the college paper. For a short time, I even wrote a weekly column for a website.

“I wonder if she knows”, I wondered aloud.
“I'm sure she does,” responded Mummy.

*
Since then I've stopped singing. I ran out of teachers, and the will to wake up in the morning for my riyaz. I wrote from time to time on various blogs, but I was mostly just reading (a hobby that I barely have time for, since Adiv's birth). I still think about her from time to time, wishing she'd been around to calm my nerves before my wedding, hold my baby soon after he was born, and enjoy a holiday in my house discussing Prince Charles and my stint in the UK. It is unfortunate that she missed meeting Ro and Adiv. But, It's a pity Adiv will never know her as I knew her, or understand her prominence in my childhood. To him she'll remain just a story, a gentle face in a photograph!

Having my afternoon nap.

2008-09-04T05:32:00.000-07:00

The Different Faces of Adiv

2008-08-25T21:49:00.000-07:00

2008-08-06T23:20:00.000-07:00

The million questions from outside don't matter, once you're really really sure about the answer inside.

The best piece of advice i got today!

Touching 30

2008-07-27T22:38:00.000-07:00

My 30th birthday was peaceful and fun. Presents came early in the form of a brand new laptop (thank you Ro) and a snazzy mobile phone (thank you Mummy and Pappa). We then drove down to Mysore on Saturday morning (despite the blasts in Bangalore the previous day) for the weekend.

Mysore was fun! Better roads (and climate), less crowded streets and power cuts just made it better. With some help from people on the road, we got to my cousin's house in time for lunch. An animal crazy home that once housed a great dane, her 6 puppies, three geese, two cats, and a chicken with an identity crisis, it has always held a special place in my life. I went there on holiday alone, for the first time, when I was 15. I went there again from time to time, but this was the first time I was taking Ro there. This time we were welcomed in to the sound of their joyous chatter, the curious barks of their friendly Rottweiler, and the feigned indifference of their pregnant cat.

An hour later, another cousin and her two boys arrived on the afternoon train. Adiv who was lapping up all the attention from everyone took to the younger boy immediately. He gave him generous kisses, and gurgled loudly when the 9-yr-old played "Super Baby" with him. My heart was in my mouth, as I followed the excitable 9-yr-old running around with my even-more-excitable 6-month old in his arms. They were later grounded to the confines of the bed, with one of the adults watching over.

In the evening, everyone was rudely woken up from their siestas, so we could drive to the Mysore Palace grounds. The minute we got out, several horse driven carriages approached us. The america-returned boys were ecstatic, but Adiv was strangely oblivious to the sight of a real horse. Anyway, we climbed into three carriages and went for a ride. Adiv sat on my lap with a big smile that never left his face. After the ride, my cousin's daughters fussed over Adiv some more, while the boys were lured into buying cheap chains by a roadside hawker. Their embarassed mother mouthed, "lets leave", and we were off to the Philomina Church. By the time we got there, Adiv was hungry and it was beginning to pour. So after a quick peek inside, we decided to head back.

Back home, the men opened up bottles of beer and whiskey, while we sat around with the kids ocassionally sipping our breezers. Adiv was changed into his night clothes, and he was happily following his new hero, 9-year-old P, on all fours.

P and J are both typical american kids with an unusual fondness for appams and stew. Their holiday was ending now, and they couldn't wait to get back to Newyork. They spoke about home, their room, their Dad who was still back home, and their friends. At 13 and 9, they were both unusually business minded. On his 8th birthday, P took home-made brownies to school. After giving them to his friends and teachers, he sold the leftover brownies for a dollar each. His older brother was smarter. After collecting his pocket money over a period of time, he'd bought all the candy at a nearby store, just so he could sell them to his friends...at a profit! We laughed ofcourse, but his mother explained to me that they were at a stage where they had to explain to their kids about right and wrong. We have a long way to go I thought, looking at Adiv who was sitting on Nindiya's lap, examining her watch.

The next day, my birthday, was filled with phone calls from allover. I got calls from my family, Ro's family, and friends. My in-laws sent me my favorite chocolate truffle cake, and my cousin's daughter Nimisha baked me a chocolate pudding. 30 candles were carefully placed on the pudding. I blew them at one go, before scooping out some delicious pudding into my bowl. The lunch that followed was a feast. After pigging out, and relaxing for a bit, we then decided it was time to drive back to Bangalore. We both had work the next day, and we couldn't afford to be too late.
We got back at 8, after a break or two, ready to flop into bed. Adiv was being fed, and I was still answering calls, when Ro's uncle and family arrived with a book I can't wait to read, a CD i am listening to, and some delicious Goan food.
So yeah, the weekend was wonderful! Turning 30 couldn't have been more fun. However, now I better think in terms of burning up all the calories I collected over the weekend.

Nanny Watch

2008-07-23T11:33:00.000-07:00

Even though it was an offer I couldn't refuse, I had to do a lot of thinking before accepting. As the mother of a 6-month-old, I was quite clear about what my priorities were. I wanted to be around for my baby, meeting all his emotional, physical, and intellectual needs. However, when I was given the option of working from home, the family urged me to think again.
"You will feel good about yourself", said Mom gently.
"You won't get this opportunity again", said Dad more firmly.
"By the time Adiv grows up, it might be too late to start again", said Ro kindly.

I wept, reminded them of the time when Adiv was crying and I was on the phone discussing the offer. I said emphatically, "I don't want him to suffer."
Then Ro and I began discussing the possibility of hiring a Nanny. Initially, I wasn't too kicked about the idea, because I didn't really know if anyone else could do a good job taking care of him. Ialso didn't want to share Adiv with a random stranger. Anyway,I gave in eventually!

The Nanny came via an agency. As my parents were in Bangalore for a week, my mom had the responsibility of training her. As with most nannies, this one came armed with credentials and experience. I wasnt impressed, the mother rarely is. "I've taken care of many babies. I know exactly what to do", she said, wearing a big smile on her face.
Anyway, her day eventually began with the mother hen clucking around her nervously. Adiv took to her immediately, and that eased my tension. In her early 30s, the nanny wore bright colors and some shiny gold-plated jewellery. He was loved this jazzy woman with the loud, high-pitched voice.
"Enna baby", she said and picked him up immediately. After that, she didn't say much.
Limiting herself to the confines of our pool-facing balcony, she walked up and down.

"Talk to him", I said.
She smiled.
Then she wandered out of the bedroom and walked to the kitchen. The top-worker cum cook was only too pleased to see someone she could talk to. With Adiv in her arms, the nanny spoke to the maid in whispered tones.
I was livid.

"No taking him to the kitchen. It isn't safe, and I don't want him growing up between two servants", I said firmly.
"Sorry Madam!"
"Play with him. Talk to him. Don't just walk around quietly."
"No madam. He is only 6 months old. No use talking to him. He probably won't understand anyway."
"I've been talking to him from day one. He responds. So talk to him. Sing to him. Show him his toys and books."
"Okay Madam."

After another hour of working, I decided to peek again. I could hear her talking loudly, but I wasn't sure if it was for my benefit.
She was standing by the bed, talking loudly to noone in particular. Adiv was on the bed, with his cloth book in his mouth.
"Talk to him", I urged again. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Okay Madam."

Eventually Adiv got bored with her. The whining graduated into loud sobs.
"Why is he crying?"
"Maybe he is hungry."
Picking him up, I told her where his flask was, and how the bottles had to be handled.
"I know Madam", she said placing the bottle teat on counter.
"That has been sterilized. Why are you putting it there?"
"Sorry Madam."

When Adiv drinks his milk, he likes to hold on to something. That day he was holding his favorite rattle.
"No No No" she said, snatching away the rattle from him. After a few seconds of looking rather shocked, Adiv screamed and cried.
"Let him hold it if he wants to", I said irritably.
"Okay Madam"
Adiv was too irritated to care. By then he didn't want the rattle or his milk.

"I'll put him to sleep now", she said picking him up.
She sat down, forced his head on her lap and rocked him violently.
"DONT", I screamed. "He doesn't like it like that."
I picked him up and took him to my parents who were quite fed up by then. I then told her she could wash and iron his clothes. She did that quite well. When she was done, I told her to sit with him on his mat.
Adiv likes to crawl, and we always put him down in longs, so he can explore. He even likes holding on to things to stand up. So someone needs to watch him constantly. If not he'll either put something into his mouth, or bang his head against tables.

"Let him crawl, but just watch him", i said going back to my laptop.
I sat down for a minute, and I could hear Adiv crying again. She wasn't letting him crawl. She was holding him with both her hands and restricting his movement.
"Let him go", i said.
"Okay."
She let him go, but began following him very very closely. He was irritated.
"Give him some space."
"Yes Madam."

Bath time was no less traumatic. She held him upright with one hand, soaped him and pour water over his face. He was horrified.
"Lay him down and be careful. He doesn't like water on his face."
I'd given her a demo the day before, she seemed to be doing her own thing.
"I've bathed many babies. I know how to do it."
"Leave your experience outside. I don't want you to spoil his bathtime for him. He usually enjoys his bath."
After this much crying, Adiv was tired. I quickly wiped him, put him in comfortable clothes and told her to put him to sleep gently. She rocked him gently, but instead of singing to him, she chose the horrifying option of screaming, "Bah Bah Bah Bah."
Adiv was crying again and I was tearing out my hair.
"Leave him alone. Don't you know any songs?"
"Okay Madam."

After her first day, I was begining to wonder if working had been a good idea. Anyway, we had a chat with her. She was being paid to keep him happy, so she had to do what we wanted her to do. She agreed, because she wanted to stay on. I decided to give her another chance, because I realized she needed some time as well to get to know Adiv. Three days later, things are gradually improving. Adiv seems happier, and she is making more of an effort of playing with him. I'm however continuing to keep a close watch.

Baptised on the 6th of July

2008-07-12T21:24:00.000-07:00

Last week, we travelled to Chennai for Adiv's baptism. The people who mattered (except for Onke Ash) were there, and Adiv looked lovely in a gown that Ro wore for his own baptism over 34 years ago.

Made from material that was originally intended for the altar in a church, Adiv's christening gown had a special story to tell. After Ro's birth two women came to see the baby. They had a present for him; material that his grandmother used to make him his christening gown. After she'd begun, the women returned apologizing for a mistake they had made. They'd given baby Ro the wrong present. The material they'd given him was intended for the church. By then it was too late! The material was already being stitched into a beautiful gown that Ro and Adiv would wear.

The service was small and sweet, and Adiv didn't bawl as expected. When the pastor wet his hair with blessed water, he merely smiled. Eventually he fell asleep, waking up only for a feed.

What followed, was breakfast. While the grownups ate, Adiv lapped up all the attention that came his way.

Adiv with two of his God parents (Onke Ash couldn't make it, so he is God father by proxy!)

Adiv with his cousins

It was his day, and he was having fun. The breakfast ended with him falling asleep, tired!

Fitting In

2008-07-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

When I first drove into our apartment complex, what caught my attention was the play area in front. Furnished with swings, a merry-go-round, slide, and seesaw, I knew it was going to be Adiv's favorite spot. So, from day one I began taking him downstairs, to socialize and eventually form friendships.

It wasn't easy in the beginning. He was wary, and the children appeared too noisy. He was happy just playing spectator. In time he began flashing smiles at anyone who would look in his direction. Eventually he wanted to sit on the swing and merry-go-round just like the older children. I'd put him on the swing and push it gently while holding him firmly with my hand. He'd put his head up and smile with half closed eyes, enjoying the breeze that hit his face.

These evenings in the play area grew longer with time, and soon Adiv was on the merry-go-round and the slide, and I got some much needed exercise in the process. Going in circles while holding him upright on the merry-go-round, and then sliding him up and down on the slippery slide, wasn't so much fun for my back. However, he was having fun and I was having some much needed adult conversations with the women.

Getting initiated into the play area was no different from being accepted in college or the workplace. We'd begin with smiles and introductions, but after that you had to fit in. People chose different ways to do that. Some resorted to memorizing the names of those children who'd been there longer, just so they could call out to them and eventually befriend their mothers. If you spoke the same language and had similar tales to share, it became easier. Also, as with any group, this one had the dominant mothers and the submissive mothers. The loud mouthed leaders walked around asking the rest questions about what they were feeding their children, and why they'd chosen the names they'd chosen for their kids.

"You call her G? What an old fashioned name. Ha Ha. My son is called R (a name popularized by Shahrukh Khan on celluloid)."

From a safe distance, I watched for a week, mimicing the bullies each evening for Ro's amusement. Then one day I began to steer in. I knew that if I was friendly enough I'd have someone to turn to if i needed help. So I began making my own attempts. I smiled, asked questions about their lives and kids, and let Adiv do the rest. He smiled, cooed, and charmed them, forcing a friendship between us. Yes, if they liked him, I decided I could like them. Before I knew it, I was part of a smaller group that was made of mothers of babies. We had a lot more in common than I had imagined. Oblivious to the seniors who ruled the play area, we walked around with our infants, put them on the swings and slides, and had fun. And when it was time for the fathers to return, we'd walk back to our flats.

*
I've been here two months, and i've now begun looking forward to these outings. Apart from the fact that Adiv enjoys these outings, I've come to realize that you can be friends with all kinds of people; even those who don't speak the same language.

What is Dada Eating?

2008-06-26T23:51:00.000-07:00

Is Dada eating something?

I'm sure he is!

I better check, just to be sure!

A Mommy Needs....

2008-06-24T23:26:00.000-07:00

...a pediatrician and a maid! When you are the mother of an infant, two people assume utmost importance in your life; the maid and the pediatrician. So understandably, i was very apprehensive when I moved to Bangalore. Would I find a good enough maid? Will I find a good, kind, sympathetic doctor who also had a degree in patience for paranoid mothers. I was lucky!

The maid has been fairly good! She sweeps, wipes, dusts, washes vessels, puts out the clothes from the washing machine, folds clothes, washes and irons the baby clothes, cuts and cleans veggies, and cooks dinner (her beef curry and alloo parathas are to die for)!

The pediatrician proved to be even better, though it took a while to find him. Our hunt first led us to a tall insipid looking fellow who ran his practice close to where we live. Let me confess that I tend to be rather wary of male pediatricians. Will a man ever understand a mother's fears and concerns? This first doctor didn't! Every question was brushed aside. He seemed more keen on the expensive injections. "Let's give him one today. Come back after 2 weeks and we will give him another one."

"No! Let us think about it", I responded, after whispering to Ro that I needed a second opinion. Still not very happy, we asked more questions. The man answered, as if recollecting from memory. Staring into space, and using his fingers to list the milestones the baby should have reached by now, he recited what he'd no doubt mugged up well in the past. Then he decided to check Adiv's length and weight. While holding the measuring tape against Adiv's wriggling body, he muttered to himself, "Should be between 48 to 54 cms."
"Oh, he is 62 cms", he said looking confused. "Going to be 6 footer i guess."

Anyway, the meeting ended with Adiv wailing, and us promising to return after 2 weeks. We never did. Thankfully, by then my aunt had introduced us to a friendly (again male) doctor who wore an amused expression in his eyes and a permanent smile in his lips. I knew I liked him as soon as I saw him.
"Put him on the table" he said. As soon as I did, Adiv turned over to explore the contents of that examination table. When I tried to hold him back, the doctor said, "Let him do whatever he wants. Don't stop him." Then he began bonding with him. He made these clicking sounds with his tongue and spoke gently to Adiv, who smiled and cooed in response. Then he picked him up, examined him and carried him with one hand to the weighing machine. Adiv seemed thrilled at the prospect of flying to the weighing machine. The doctor in turn seemed pleased with the huge gummy grins he was getting. They liked eachother, and I was relieved!

Two weeks later, we went back for Adiv's vaccination. The doctor gave him a grand welcome by picking him up and playing with him. "Tickle Tickle" he said, while he tickled Adiv who was laughing loudly by now. Amidst all the fun, he suddenly gave Adiv a poke that he didn't even notice. He got his injection and he didn't cry! Everyone in the waiting room was surprised. "He didn't cry?" The older children who were either crying or close to tears, seemed a little sheepish as we walked out with a "still smiling" Adiv. He was the star of that clinic!

Now that both the maid and pediatrician are taken care off, I can finally say I've settled down in Bangalore!

In our free time, we........

2008-05-31T18:20:00.000-07:00

.....read!!

Adiv and Ammi

2008-04-25T19:08:00.001-07:00

When Adiv was born, Ro decided he wanted to be called Dada, and I picked Amma! The little one had other plans. Now when he wants me, he sounds like he is saying Ammi.

Adiv and the Bearded Giant

2008-04-22T18:37:00.000-07:00

A product of the "Yakoba" clan, I shifted gears and steered towards the CSI groove quite early. My mother who was responsible for this shift, marketed church to us with the following; shorter services in English, beautiful hymns, and simple sermons. However, what appealed the most was that we could sit through the service, jumping up only to sing a lovely hymn, or during a reading from the Bible. Hadn't we endured years of attending long services in syriac, amidst people wearing solemn faces singing tunes that sounded far from joyous? Then we'd get to sit every now and then, but those brief interludes ended as quickly as they came.

Anyway, my brother and I spent little time praying. Through separated in Church by our mother, we managed several giggles and serious conversations that centered around the skin on some unsuspecting individual's neck. Then my brother would feign the need to pee, and we'd eventually leave with a triumphant expression plastered on our faces.

As we got older, things changed. I began enjoying service, and I now knew quite a lot of the hymns. I began praying each Sunday for a wonderful new week, and when we moved to a bigger CSI church, the pastor sealed my relationship with the church, with his interesting sermons. However, it was a cousin's wedding that got me to declare that I wanted to have a CSI wedding too. That is just what I got.
I will refrain from bragging about our beautiful wedding service again, but I must confess I was thrilled the long drawn services in a Jacobite church were over.

After our wedding, Ro and I went to church whenever we could; and after A's birth we decided to initiate him into church on Easter Sunday. No, we didn't sneak out hurridly, muttering apologies under our breath. Instead we sat through the entire service, singing to an ecstatic A who made his own attempts at singing like his Dad.
A loved the service, and he was blissfully oblivious to his mother's inherited "yakoba" heritage.

So when a Yakoba acchen made an appearance two days ago, I saw the look of shock on his teeny face. The CSI acchens are by far less intimidating to look at. They sport kind, clean shaven smiles (most of them), unlike their Yakoba counterpart. The beard caught A's fancy, but he also seemed like he was deciding whether to cry or endure the Yakoba Acchen's visit. The acchen attempted to be befriend A who stared ahead at him with feigned courage. Not getting a smile, the acchen then turned his attention on us. "Why is he in pampers?" That began a lecture on how we were taking the easy way out by putting a baby in pampers. Wasn't child rearing meant to be a difficult task? So why would we put him in pampers. "Put him in cloth nappies" he declared. "Unless ofcourse you were taking him out", he added as an after thought. After this lecture that seemed to go on forever, he eventually put his hand on A's forehead to pray. "Now he'll cry", I thought. But as always A surprised us again. That gesture led A into thinking that this beared giant was a friend. Thinking it was a game, he reached out and pulled the Acchen's sleeve. He continued tugging at his sleeve, till the poor Acchen was forced to cut short his long prayer. The CSI acchen hadn't interested A half as much. He'd merely smiled at the CSI acchen. He barely even noticed the CSI acchen's hand on his head during his blessing. Was it the cool beard that caught his fancy? Maybe!

Long weekends have never felt shorter...

2008-04-08T01:23:00.000-07:00

Everyone cribs about long weekends being too short. Before you know it, you end up heading into another dreary week at work. Until a few months ago, I felt the same way - however, the past two "long" weekends haven't lived up to their name even by those standards... Despite all efforts to lengthen the duration of the weekend by flying in early, flying out by the last possible flight and spending all my time at home for a full three and a half days, it still feels like I haven't spent enough time with my son.
It was 5.30pm When I rang the doorbell on Friday evening. R wasn't expecting me (as usual, I'd made her believe that I wouldn't be able to make it until saturday morning) and she was depressed all day coz of that - but seeing me walk in the door - she was thrilled. So was I... Thrilled that my weekend with my wife and son had officially kicked off. A had just been bathed, and was being groomed by his mother as I approached. It took him 10 minutes to warm up to me. It wasn't coz he didn't know me - it was quite obvious that he recognized me... but he hadn't seen me in two weeks and was suddenly very shy. He refused to give me a second glance, fixing his gaze on his "Amma" no matter where you moved him... finally, about 10 minutes later, he gave into all the coaxing, and everything was normal in the world again. He smiled, laughed, giggled and kicked the air in excitement as I played with him for a bit. This was pretty much how the weekend was spent. When he slept R and I would either talk or play our silly word games on facebook and if I was bored doing that, i'd pretend to try and wake him up (this would get R all worked up, coz she would have just rocked him to sleep). R kept reminding me she couldn't take care of two kids at the same time and that I would have to grow up and I would quote my erstwhile friend, S, here.... "Growing old is mandatory - Growing up is optional".
A made my day that night... he normally turns towards R, cuddles up to her and then goes to sleep... that night, he turned towards me, cuddled up and we both slept that way until his feed time. After his feed, he turned the other way and slept with his "Amma" till the morning. He already has a sense of fairness. He wanted both of us to feel special.
Saturday was a quiet day- lazed around with A as per his schedule- A's "A-M" had arrived the previous night. We went out to dinner on saturday. "A-M" was treating us all. As usual A was a well behaved kid all through the evening. As long as he had his bottle of milk, he didn't care what was on the menu. He spent a lot of time looking around at the lights, the paintings, people and when he had enough of looking around, he quietly went to sleep in his car seat.
Sunday was again another lazy A-centered day. He woke up to be fed, played for a bit, then took a short nap and it was time to feed again. What a wonderful life - he gets to do that all day for the next couple of years. I hope he's enjoying it as much as he can - once he gets to the point of running the rat race in about 2 years, it will be a while before he can look forward to his retirement.
That night as I lay down with him, he cuddled up to me... but the moment R got into bed, he rolled over and went to her - R was thrilled - even though she didn't show it the previous night, she did feel bad that he'd ditched her the moment i'd arrived on the scene :-). I guess he senses these things and makes sure no one feels left out - smart kid eh?
Monday came by and it was no different from the previous lazy days. R kept saying the weekend's almost over, and I kept wondering if I should just take an extra day off coz i wasn't ready to leave my wife and son and head back yet... the only saving grace was that I was flying back on the early flight on tuesday morning so that I could get to work on time. This would mean i would get to cuddle up and sleep with A one more night... the day was quite uneventful, except for A's antics when he was awake, and the delicious cake that R baked, and some wonderful crumb fish for lunch, in hindsight, I should have brought the two pieces of cake that were left over to bangalore :-( (R.... *hint* *hint*).
A slept snuggled up to me all night- as if he knew I'd be gone when he woke up in the morning. As I kissed him goodbye while he slept, I wondered if he'd miss me as much as I would miss him. I guess he would... he's just not able to express it yet - plus being a boy, he probably won't express these feelings even after he grows up :-). Men have this problem with expressing themselves. They do different things to show they care, but will never be straightforward about it.And I understand that... After all - I'm that way too. Someday he'll read this blog and wonder if this is really how his dad feels... and i'm fine with the way this post has turned out, as he's still a baby - I'll probably change the tone of these posts, as he grows into a young lad. :-)
Evidently, three days were totally insufficient, though some might wonder why I'm complaining. It comes with the territory and I can't wait for them to join me, which will be pretty soon! As I spend the rest of the day thinking about R & A and this past weekend, I console myself saying that I'll get to go visit again in two weeks... and I'm already looking forward to that.

Smoky Mountain Memories - Dolly Parton

2008-04-04T01:35:00.000-07:00

You ought to go north somebody told us
Cause the air is filled with gold dust
And fortune falls like snow flakes in your hands
Now I don't recall who said it
But we'd lived so long on credit
And so we headed out to find our promised land

Just poor Smoky Mountains farm folk
With nothing more than high hopes
So we hitched our station wagon to a star
But our dreams all fell in on us
Cause there was no land of promise
Though it's a stuggle just keepin' sight of who you are

Oh and these northern nights are dreary
And my southern heart is weary
As I wonder how the old folks are back home
But I know that they all love me
And they're all thinking of me
The Smoky Mountains memories keep me strong

You know I've been thinkin' a whole lot lately
About what's been and what awaits me
It takes all I've got to give what life demands
You go insane if you give in to it
Life's a mill and I've been through it
I'm just thankful I'm creative with my hands

Oh and these northern nights they're dreary
And my southern eyes are teary
As I wonder how the old folks are back home
But I'll keep leanin' on my Jesus
He'll love and guide and lead us
The Smoky Mountains memories keep me strong

If I'll keep looking to the father
Keep our heads above the water
While the Smoky Mountains memories keep me strong

Changing seasons

2008-03-31T19:42:00.000-07:00

She once nursed dreams of becoming a vet, and i'm sure she'd have made a good one. Hadn't she nursed a dying cat back to health by feeding it milk with a dropper? She'd also rescued a three-legged cat and performed minor surgery on it, to save it. In addition to these sick animals, the grounds surrounding her ancient home housed three dogs, twelve cats, and several cows and chickens. Though her dream was never fulfiled, she always had pets at home.
He also grew up amidst animals. His family even had a monkey at one time. The household was crowded with his 8 brothers and sisters, their children, and relatives who flocked by from everywhere. Though he was used to having children around, he didn't have too much patience for them. He just about tolerated the child who took a fancy for his socks and his niece's kids who sat under the dining table playing with everyone's toes.
They loved the children in their family ofcourse, but they were going to really enjoy only their own kids. They got together and the kids arrived. She joked about how she loved her dogs as much as she loved her kids. Nevertheless, they were both very good parents. Then one day, the grandchild arrived. An interesting, chatty infant with moods and a mind of his own, was sure to turn their lives upside down; and that is exactly what happened.
Now they were both sitting up at night, entertaining the little one with their songs and games. They carried him around the house talking, when he suffered from colic. They invented little games for him, and spoke to him for hours. He sometimes got off from work early, just to be with his grandson. He even watched cricket with his month-old grandson, explaining the nuances of the game. He was never too tired for him. He woke up early, did his exercise, read the newspaper and waited for the grandson to wake up. He'd then walk him around the house, showing him the paintings on the wall, the pictures in the house, and the leaves outside. And when he got back from work, he'd head straight for the baby. He had a special smile reserved for the grandson, and his eyes always lit up when he saw him. Considering he was never very demonstrative, he showered the little one with kisses. The baby was definitely the best thing that had happened to him.
She was no different. She was the crazy grandparent, who danced and sang for him, even entertaining him during his bath. She taught him action songs that he enjoyed. She even made up songs for him, and he now sleeps to one of those songs. A reader, she stopped reading. A literati addict, she was now playing only after he'd gone to sleep. She taught him his first prayer by holding his hands together and praying for him. When he was sick, she was the calm one with solutions to every problem. She enjoyed getting him teeny clothes and then dressing him up. And when he slept she'd spend some time just looking at him. If she once claimed she preferred animals to babies, this was one baby she loved more than anything in the world. Not much has changed now.
The little one is 2 months old, and as I write this post, he lies between his doting grandparents cooing and gurgling with laughter, while they entertain him with songs and stories he doesn't yet understand. But he loves my parents, and to them Adiv means the world.

"By the way........

2008-03-31T07:44:00.000-07:00

..........I'd like more milk today!"

Adiv's favorites

2008-03-27T22:54:00.000-07:00

Our little bundle is proving to be quite a voracious reader. Here are two of his favorite books:)

2008-03-27T20:04:00.000-07:00

A child more than all other gifts
That Earth can offer to a declining man
Brings hope with it and forward looking thoughts.
- William Wordsworth (Also used by George Eliot in "Silas Marner")

The Easter Weekend - the long and short of it...

2008-03-26T11:09:00.000-07:00

One of the good things that has come of my return to India(from the US) is that I now get an official holiday for Good Friday and because my clients are primarily based in the UK, I can take the day off for Easter Monday too. And so it was a 4 day long weekend that seemed so short, before I could say "superflagilistic.......ious" I was on a bus heading back to the garden city (electronic city really!).
I like giving R surprises - so I thought she would be thrilled if I landed up at 10.30pm on Thursday instead of early morning on Friday as I normally would. I was also hoping I'd get to spend a little time with A before he went to sleep - however it was not to be. The bus gods decided otherwise - first there were traffic delays and then passenger delays (one absent minded chick forgot to board the bus, so the bus owner instructed the driver to wait, while she was raced in an auto rickshaw to where we were waiting) - following all this drama, I finally made it only at 12.30. A was already asleep - but R was happy nevertheless.
Around 4am, A woke up for his feed - I was very curious if he would still recognize me (it had been two weeks since i saw him last) - As soon as he was fed and put on the bed, I shoved my face in front of his with some baby talk. I expected him to show no sign of recognition and probably start crying seeing this strange person in his bed....but he gave me the sweetest gummy smile, turned towards me and went to sleep. It was a feel good moment, but at the same time it was also a feel guilty moment. It's sad that the little one doesn't get to see me for 2 weeks at a stretch at times - hopefully it won't be too long before he moves to Bgl and then things will get better.
The next two days were pretty uneventful - mostly revolving around little A and mentally preparing ourselves to take A to Church for his first Easter Sunday Service. We had everything planned. We planned to leave early for Church and find seats near the side entrance so that we could rush out immediately if A throws a tantrum or gets cranky. We got there in good time and got the seats we wanted - A was still catching up on his beauty sleep so he was put on the pew seat in between R and me. The service got underway and about half an hour into the service, A started his usual stretches getting ready to wake up. As we anticipated this would happen we were prepared with a bottle of milk, and quickly gave it to him - once he's fed - he's a happy child - he just looked around to check out the new surroundings.
At this time, the pastor announced the next hymn and as the music played and everyone stood up, A was visibly excited hearing the opening bars... R carried him and as we stood singing, A had a huge smile on his face- He obviously loved the music - He also kept trying to nudge closer to me - so R said - "he wants u to carry him" - I put down the hymn book and carried him in my arms and continued to sing. At this point, A seemed to have got the hang of the tune, and he actually started opening his mouth trying to mouth the words looking at the way my lips were moving - It was such a cute sight. Everyone around had their eyes on this little two month old baby excitedly smiling and attempting to sing in time with the tune and enjoying the music... and of course when I looked at them I gave them the usual "proud parent" smile. A was awake for another 45 minutes and then fell asleep during the sermon and the other boring parts. He only woke up on our way back home - but he did have one heck of an outing on Easter Sunday.
I could go on and on about how he enjoyed the service in church, but a voice inside my head says, stop being the show-off dad... people will stop reading your blog. Anyway, R has said that she plans to take him to church every Sunday - maybe we were just lucky this one Sunday and he decided to be well behaved, next Sunday might be a different story altogether.... I'm waiting to hear what happens, as I'm missing out on some bonding time with my son this weekend just so that he has a decent home to come to in a month!!! The tradeoffs one has to make is sometimes unfair... but life's unfair - Right???

The Simple Life

2008-03-17T03:55:00.000-07:00

Now that Adiv has discovered the power of his tongue, he talks to all things, animate and inanimate. The family is ofcourse thrilled, unlike the remote control, the fan, or the curtains that refuse to respond to him. We sit around cooing and talking to him about everything under the sun. In response he moves his legs excitedly, and flashes us excited, gummy smiles. However, when i've misunderstood the call for a nappy change, he screams his head out, after what sounds like a lot of complaining.
When he isn't talking, he attempts rolling over, and now that he is plagued by the Chennai heat, he either tries to pull up his tee-shirt, or he calls for the AC to be switched on. Then we curl up on the bed talking, till either one of us falls asleep.
Adiv enjoys his bathtime, that has now been shifted to the afternoon. By the time i've stripped him off his clothes, his smiles have become bigger. And once he's been placed on his bath sponge, his excitement knows no bounds. To the sound of us singing to him ( The ABCDs and other Rhymes), he gets to enjoy the feel of warm water being poured on him. After his bath, and a feed, he usually takes a cat nap. (I'm not complaining as long as he sleeps at night. )
At night he doesn't sleep on his fancy cot anymore. The night light, the vibrating mattress, the music, and the colorful animals hanging from above aren't incentive enough for him to sleep in his bed. He'd much rather sleep with me, on the same pillow, with one hand either on my neck or holding my nose. Sometimes he spends minutes examining the cross I wear, touching and feeling its rough edges. He'll then move in closer before settling down to sleep. In the process I end up frozen in one position, for fear of smothering him.
In the morning he wakes up to the welcoming hands of his grandparents, who are only too keen on entertaining him.
His grandmother sits down with him by the balcony window, so he can lie down and look out. He is fascinated by the leaves outside, and the noises that sometimes startle him. Staring at the friendly squirrel or a moving branch, he eventually falls asleep. If he isn't too keen on napping, he is soon transported into his play gym. After a round of cycling, and some conversations with his gym pals; the octopus, a starfish, and a tortoise, he then decides it's time for a nap or a feed.

His life therefore is pretty simple. He is happy as long as he is fed, kept clean, and given enough attention. As simple as all this might seem, he has made a world's difference in all our lives. My life surely has more meaning now, than it did before.

A mother is born

2008-03-09T18:57:00.001-07:00

I brought Adiv in this world kicking (not really) screaming, and holding on to Ro's hand begging him to take me home. None of the breathing techniques learnt previously at the maternity studio seemed to help. Ro's gentle reminders about breathing during a contraction merely caused irritation. Eventually the pains got worse, the intervals shorter, and the screams louder. The girl behind the partition delivered minutes before I did, after a series of orgasmic moans that didn't seem very amusing then. Her tiny baby(whom she named Princess) arrived to the sound of my screaming as well, before Adiv decided to make an appearance. When he did, the mood transformed completely. Suddenly there was an air of jubilation in the labor room. Ro and I were smiling, and the team of doctors and nurses were relieved the screaming had ended.

"It's a HE", said the gentle doctor, while I stared at the baby.

"You can touch him", she said, because I seemed unsure about touching the delicate one. I touched him with a finger, smiled, and turned to a beaming Ro saying, "I told you it was going to be a boy."

Almost immediately, the baby was taken to the pediatrician, who Ro thought was the "baby cleaner". After Adiv was cleaned up, he was brought to me once more, so I could whisper "baby tuttooos" into his teeny ears. For a second, he stopped crying, and that moment made up for all the pain i'd endured. It was a special moment, and I was glad that Ro was there to share it with me.

A mother was born that day, though not a particularly skilled one. I had to learn to carry the little one, feed him, change him, and comfort him. And when he was shifted to the neonatal ICU with jaundice, I wept (infact I wept every time he wept). Finally I was spending hours in the ICU. Every time I was called to feed him, I'd also sit around to burp him, talk to him, and put him to sleep, before being driven away by the nurses. Ro didn't get as much time with him, but a kind malayalee nurse did sneak him into our room a few times so Ro could hold him as well.

A lot has happened since then. Both Ro and I are getting better at our parenting roles, and Adiv is now a 50-day-old responsive baby who is curious about the world around him. He is a chatty baby who loves his play gym, but hates it when his soiled diaper isn't changed immediately. He loves being carried from room to room, so he can look at the pictures and shadows on the wall, the curtains against the window, and the moving leaves outside the window. When left alone, he'll even engage in a conversation with his toy cow, chicken, and pig that hang from his baby cot. He likes his duck rattle as well, but from a distance. Bring it too close and he is scared.

I've also changed quite a bit in the last 50 days. I'm more comfortable as a mother, but just as paranoid. I make frequent trips to the pediatrician with doubts about what is normal for a baby. When I'm not at the clinic, i call her on her mobile. Fortunately, she comes armed with oodles of patience, and since I'm a regular at her clinic, she's even stopped charging me now.

Anyway, both Adiv and I are well, and Ro makes a wonderful dad. In short, life is good!

Parenthood....

2008-03-06T06:26:00.000-08:00

at least R is responsibly doing all that parenthood entails. I'm currently enjoying my absenteeism from my son's life and have to deal with sleepless night(s?) and diaper changes only on the weekends that I visit. I get this feeling often that my son is being spoilt rotten by his mother and grandparents - I'm the only one who can bring about some discipline to that boy's life - I have to be strict with him whenever i visit to see him.

Now now... did i forget to make the announcement? YESSSSSS... R and I had a baby boy on Jan 19th. Adiv George Koshie - the cutest adorable little one, and, it was one heck of an experience. Given all the nail-biting experiences leading to the delivery and the number of times I had to travel back and forth from Hyderabad to Chennai (I almost made it to Silver status on Jet Airways :-) ), it was all totally worth it as I held the little one in my hands, when the doc handed him to me as soon as she'd pulled him out - I got to cut the umbilical cord (though i wished they hadn't asked me to do it so soon but rather waited a couple of minutes before clamping it down...), R has a better story to tell about what happened when she spoke to him at that moment, so I'll leave it to her.

So there we were that night, two people, who've just been given the status of parents and are expected to take care of a new born...

That first night is quite memorable - I always thought changing a diaper was very easy, coz most people i've seen seem to do it so quickly and easily.... but that night when he pooped for the first time, (i was just checkin to see if that was why he was crying) it was so messy, I had no idea where to begin - it was 2 am, and I had to call the nurse on duty so that she could show me how it was done... that one time was all that I needed... i was the excited diaper changing dad - everytime he'd poop or pee I'd run to clean him up -

The other interesting thing that happened that night was after we'd changed him etc., I needed a break, so i went to take a walk - and when i return about 15 minutes later - I have the biggest problem on my hands - my son was wailing - and so was R (coz she didn't know what to do and couldn't bear to see him cry) - I had absolutely no idea who needed attention first - torn between the two - i quickly figured, that if the son calms down, the mother might too - and this is a lesson for all u new fathers-to-be: if u're left alone the first night that u're parents - be prepared for two faucets to turn on at the same time :-)
now its almost 7 weeks and i think we're living up to the challenge of being responsible parents - R spoils Adiv rotten all week, and on the weekend i get there and pamper him some more :-) ... I can't help it if he wants to have these long conversations with me - he talks about the trunk on the loft in the bedroom that he inherited from his grandma (she gave it to him coz he was always starting at it and he's thrilled about it - though i'm not lugging it to bangalore now - he can go collect it when he's old enough to drive), the paintings on the wall in the living room, the shadows that the incandescent lamp casts when all the other lights are turned off, the fans... he just has so much to talk about and the weekend is barely enough to get through it all.

Alright, I guess I shouldn't be gushing so much - but the little one already knows how he can wrap me around his little finger - check out the pic below

he actually turned and gave me a number of kisses a couple of weeks ago and this is one of those moments that i'll treasure forever - all credit goes to R for capturing it on camera in time! :-) - The one at the top was taken the day after he was born. And for those of you who are wondering - Adiv means "gentle" in Hebrew (thats what a website said)

until i find the time to blog again - please pray that R gets a few hours of sleep every night and that I don't have to stay up at night on the weekend that I'm there ;-)

Happy New Year

2007-12-30T20:46:00.000-08:00

Another year comes to an end, and what a wonderful year it was. 2007 began with the most important moment of our lives; our wedding. The ceremony and the reception that followed couldn't have been more perfect. Our relatives and friends had fun, and I gracefully eased into the role of coy (atleast i tried) bride, after months of adorning the mantle of "bridezilla".

The ceremony went without a hitch. The flower girls walked ahead of me like veterans, carrying their tiny flower baskets, wearing adorable outfits. The family choir gave the ceremony that special touch, as did the pastor who gave us a sermon we'd all remember forever. We did have our share of minor bloopers, even though I didn't trip and fall (courtsey: high heels and heavy saree). I was the smiling bride, who'd forgotten to cover her head (not so coy was I?), and when it was time to place the manthrakodi on my head, Ro merely passed it on to his sister. Traditionally, the manthrakodi saree is placed on the bride's head to symbolize the groom's promise of always clothing his wife. Now that his sister had performed that task, we often joke about how clothing me is now her responsibility.

The reception that followed was as much fun, despite having to pose for a zillion photographs with a lot of people we didn't know. Every smile and frown (they didn't make it to the album ofcourse) was captured, and it felt like we were being mobbed by the paparazzi.

*
The year that followed went by so quickly. Three weeks in India, and we were off to London. From being used to the Chennai heat, I suddenly found myself in snowy UK. Covered up in thermals, sweaters, gloves, and a heavy coat (just me, not Ro), we toured London, before eventually settling down in a comfortable apartment, where I began my culinary experiments. We were touristy in London, even venturing out to nearby holiday spots. We played hosts to our parents, made new friends, and before we knew it, it was time to head back, and our family was getting bigger.

How has life changed otherwise? Last year this time, I was announcing to my parents that this year i'd be out on New Year's eve, partying with Ro. Little did I know then that I'd be home, enjoying my expanding belly, preparing for one of the biggest changes in my life.

Truly, what a wonderful year it has been!

After a long slumber

2007-12-18T22:48:00.000-08:00

The "ocassionally i come alive" blog promises to be "completely inactive", a month from now. Atleast then I'd have legitimate excuses for not updating my (errm..our) blog. I'm being promised sleepless, tiring nights, and a lot of nappy changes. Strangely enough, despite them, I'm looking forward to holding the little one. And yes, if I might be honest, I'm looking forward to having the baby out, so I can feel the "lightness" that many romanticise.

The pregnancy has been both good and bad, but mostly wonderful. From being someone who was mortally afraid of the needle, I now manage some small talk with the technician, while he retrieves vials of blood from my arm. I have discovered new methods of dealing with my morning sickness (something that never limited itself to my mornings alone during the first three months). Then there was an aversion to certain foods, that was soon taken over by these insatiable hunger pangs. So that meant, a sensible diet (most of the time), walks (most of the time), and those seemingly easy antenatal exercises (well...ocassionally). The rest of the time, I merely read, watch re-runs of sitcoms, catch up with the latest flicks (nothing scary or emotionally disturbing), and listen to a lot of music with the baby. Yes, the little one responds to music. A pretentious mother-to-be, I tried to get it interested in Baby Bach and Baby Mozart, only to give up when I felt excited flutters everytime Shakira danced to her "Hips don't lie." I'm also walking around feeling special (and who wouldn't) because the baby recognizes my voice.

Ro continues to display all the traits of being a wonderful father. He sings and talks to my active belly, and monitors much of what I watch and eat. He is also very tolerant towards to my changing moods. Yes, the hormonal changes make you either deliriously happy or irritably moody. However, it hasn't only been an expanding waistline, changing moods, lots of throwing up, and those annoying aches and pains (whoever knew of those painful, expanding ligaments along the hips)! Pregnancy came with its perks. The bigger the belly, the bigger the perks.

I began noticing these privileges on my flight back home. People weren't just throwing me friendly, interested smiles. They were also keen on making sure I was comfortable. So I could cut queues, expect to be seated immediately, and be pampered. This treatment got better once I was home. In addition to getting pampered at home, I could walk into any crowded room knowing someone would get up and offer me their seat. Even the long wait at the vodaphone outlet was cut short because a considerate employee wanted to spare me the wait. The hospitals were no less considerate. If there was a long queue for a blood test, and a longer one for a container to pee into (yeah, we pregnant women endure a lot of urine tests), I was allowed the privilege of breezing in and out (okay okay..waddling in and out), irrespective of how many were waiting.

If this was wonderful, it gets better. In India, neighbours and friends just need the whiff of a pregnant woman, so they can busy themselves in their kitchens to whip up meals. Yeah, for once, everyone is concerned about your cravings and not so much the calories. I'd just whisper, "I feel like eating a dosa today", and I'd be driving to a restaurant immediately, for my fill of dosas. A neighbour I was seeing for the first time made it a point of coming home everyday with something different to eat. Luckily I was well past all my aversions.

It's been an eventful 8 months, and now I eagerly await the arrival of my baby. I wonder if I'll be a good enough parent, but Dr Spocks assures me that all parents learn with experience. Life sure has changed a great deal, and promises to change even more. But I think I'm ready now, and I look forward to it.

Back at Home

2007-09-24T22:50:00.000-07:00

Just feels like yesterday when we moved to London as newly weds. We found a spacious flat that would house future guests as well, and filled it up with everything we would need. The tube station was just across, and whatever we needed was just a station or two away. After a week of settling in, this new house eventually began to feel like home. I began my culinary experiments on patient Ro and our pots and pans, while Ro went to work. We travelled a bit, explored a lot of London, and spent several hours watching movies and enjoying sitcoms. And before I knew it, I was back in India, expecting our first child.

This move seemed to come abruptly, maybe because I wasn't really ready for it as yet. The experience as been bitter sweet, for though I was looking forward to being back home, I miss Ro and London. Friends ask me what I will miss most about London the most. "A lot of things", i answer. I will miss having high-speed inter connectivity, the ceremonious service at St Paul's Cathedral, Magic 105.4 radio, ancient buildings brimming with history, traveling on the tube, the library just across the road, parks with swans, ducks and horses, huge shopping malls, the fresh air, pedestrian paths, all those colorful flowers, polite bus drivers and postmen, the human statues and street performers at Covent Garden.......the list is endless.

However, despite everything I will miss, the chaos and commotion back home is quite the welcome sight. The sight of those muddy unkempt streets and the cows lazing on them oblivious to the honking traffic makes you realize you are finally where you belong; home. The familiar sounds of neighbours chatting, the clanking of pots being washed, the sweeeping of leaves outside, the chatty relatives and friends, the familiar aromas from the kitchen, and regional television brings about a certain "homey" feel that I missed for so long.
It sure is good to be back. Now for a two-month wait before Ro is back too!

One Night Of Hope

2007-07-09T03:47:00.000-07:00

I'd be lying if i said I was a Joel Osteen fan. The name brought back distant memories of an unread book at home that someone had given Mom, but I had never heard his sermons. A devout Joyce Meyer loyalist (still am one), Ro introduced me to Joel Osteen a while ago, while we were flipping channels. Months later, we were at the Wembley Arena listening to the man, and what an inspirational moment it had been.

The trip to Wembley was tedious. We took three trains and walked 10 minutes to get to our well positioned seats (in front). The crowd trickled in gradually at first, and by 7.30, we had a packed auditorium filled with people from all nationalities. The show (is that what you call these events?) began with songs by the worship leaders from Osteen's Lakewood church. Singer Cindy charged the audience with her vocal range and heart felt lyrics. Everyone was at their feet singing along and clapping. Even the coy indulged in some foot tapping and mild dancing.

Before long the man we'd all been waiting for arrived on stage, amidst much clapping. What struck me most about him, was the joy he seemed to exude. He seemed happy and in peace, and so comfortable imparting that obvious that a lot of us had been so blinded by.

"The enemy isn't after our money or relationships. He is after our joy", he announced. It was about the right attitude, and I couldn't agree more. His sermon centered on praying for God's favor, and he explained it with a series of light hearted anecdotes. "God wants to be involved in your every day lives", he assured us. So if you needed guidance or merely space to park your car, all you needed to do was pray. These prayers wouldn't always be answered he said, but then we could always praise him for the fact that we were well, healthy and able to walk. Key was in never forgetting to praise God and enjoy all his blessings. Almost immediately all i felt was blessed, because there was so much to be thankful for.

Interspersed with more songs, a testimony by his mother, a talk by his wife, a verse by his song, and a song by his 6-yr-old daughter, the event ended on a positive note. We prayed, we sang, we listened, and we left feeling positive. Truly an event worth being part off.

Wicked, the musical

2007-06-27T00:05:00.000-07:00

After numerous attempts at recovering from a bad case of writer's block, i've finally returned. Through this period, Ro was undeniably supportive, given that he was struck by the disease as well. Infectious i guess.

We've both been well, and we were leading a pampered existence for as long as my parents were here. A week after their return to Chennai, we are reeling over the fact that life is back to normal, and reminicing about the fun things we did while they were here. On of those fun things, was a broadway musical, Wicked.

When we got to the theater, we were welcomed to the sight of some elaborate sets. A dragon on talk, machinery on either side, and the map of Oz in the center.

While the audience crowded the theater looking for seats, excited children they were accompanying, and the right spot for a picture, we sat patiently, waiting for the show to begin. And almost immediately, the music came on and this elaborate set came to life. A group of monkeys (actors ofcourse) climbed down the rusty stairs, pulled up the map of Oz, and welcomed us into the world of Wicked.

"Let us be glad

Let us be grateful

Let us rejoicify that goodness could subdue

The wicked workings of you know who..."

..sang Glinda, the Good, to a group of people who were as dressed in elaborate, exquisite outfits as she was. An amusing theatrical song later, she begins telling the untold story of the witches of Oz. In the next 2 hours, we witness the unfair circumstances that aid in labeling a misunderstood, powerful witch, the wicked witch.

When they met, they couldn't have been more different. While Glindawas the popular, much-loved, slightly dim-witted blond, Elphaba was green and therefore viewed with apprehension and disgust. Her latent power and her eagerness to study impressed the teachers, but she remained unpopular with the students; even her own sister.

However, these rivals soon became friends, even finding a common attraction towards a fun-loving, mischievous Fiyero. You'd think life is going well, but it isn't. The evil Wizard of Oz is plotting in the background, so he can use Elphaba's powers to read a magical book. She refuses, and the revered Wizard tarnishes her image by labeling her evil. As Elphaba gets more and more powerful, the people of Oz fear her even more, making her the most powerful wicked witch of Oz.

This tale of magic, treachery, good Vs evil, and misunderstanding meets with a glorious end, one that you have to watch for yourself. Worth every pound, the elaborate sets, the use of props, the changing lighting, the exquisite outfits, the lively music, and the storyline made Wicked seem larger than life. See if you can....!

I Love this Woman....

2007-05-24T01:57:00.000-07:00

I love this man

2007-05-23T07:35:00.000-07:00

Guru

2007-05-20T23:06:00.000-07:00

Guru; a visionary who leaves behind his simple beginings, to create the biggest polyester business in the country. Armed with his grit and determination, and guided by his dreams, this ambitious man leaves his village with two shirts, his wife, and his brother-in-law. He is incorrigible, easy-to-like, pushy even, and confident. He is a definite winner, and when his honesty refuses to pay off, he takes the crooked path. He makes money, and becomes one of the most successful businessmen in the country. However, since he is also responsible for much of the corruption in the country, a newspaper decides to strip him off his status and hard earned success.

The plot has the makings of an inspiring rags to riches story. Who wouldn't relate to a man who wanted to make it big? It is easier, when that man is the charming Abhishek Bachchan. He is endearing and so likeable that even his decision to marry Aishwarya for her dowry brings a smile. You recognize his dreams, applaud his every successful moment, and stay loyal till the end.

This period film is then interspersed with some interesting songs, and several dramatic moments that i'm sure generated a few claps in theatres. However, despite these ingredients, the film was a huge disappointment.

For me, the plot wasn't realistic enough. Guru's success isn't gradual, it is instantaneous, and though we see him as a humble, honest individual in the beginning, his hand in corruption comes as a surprise. The audience doesn't see him as wayward businessman till much later, and once this guise is taken off, he is shown to be only source of trouble in society. Where were all the gangsters, corrupt politicians, and drug peddlers you wonder. Why was "The Independant" focusing merely focussing on bringing down Guru? Why were its owner and reporter wearing cloaks of righteousness, when they were concocting stories about the man themselves? Were Guru's presents, and the fact that he patronized their newspaper for his side of the story, reason enough to antogonize them?

The acting was fairly okay. Abhishek Bachchan displays traces of his father Amitabh, in his demeanor. Though overly dramatic in some scenes, he gives a decent performance. Aishwarya Rai as his wife is understated. As with the women in the Maniratnam movies, she has spunk, and is strong-willed. A silent force behind her husband, her performance was perhaps the most subtle and believable. Mithun (remember Disco Dancer) as the owner of The Independant, is refreshing. He isn't loud or dramatic. You believe in him, and respect his strong moral ethics. However, you wonder why he supports the path chosen to fight Guru. Madhavan as the reporter chosen to destroy Guru, seems like a forced presence. His undivided attention on Guru, and his unethical means makes Guru more of a hero than he already is. He is paired opposite Vidya Balan, whose presence seems unnecessary. She doesn't help with the plot, and isn't one of the important characters. Even without her, you get a peek into Guru's soul. However, if not for her, you'd miss the only kiss in the movie.

These performances are aided by Rajiv Menon's camera work, and A.R.Rahman's music. I'm not a huge Rahman fan anymore and except for Na Na Re and Tere Bina, I found the other songs weird. The biggest disappointment however was Maniratnam himself. Though in comparison to most other Hindi films, Guru fares well, in comparison to his own films Guru proves to be a disaster. Perhaps he should stick to Tamil cinema?

Best Doughnuts in York

2007-05-18T01:00:00.000-07:00

A Writer at Work

2007-05-17T00:33:00.000-07:00

On Popular Demand

2007-05-16T00:09:00.000-07:00

A rare picture of us together.

Conversation in Church

2007-05-13T11:59:00.000-07:00

Friendly Pastor: I'm sorry, I didn't get your names.
Ro: Rohit
Friendly Pastor: Robert
Ro: Rohit
Friendly Pastor: Robert?
Ro: Rooohit
Curious bystander: Robert?
Ro: R-O-H-I-T
Friendly Pastor and Curious bystander (hesitantly): Ro-hit
Another person walking by: Robert is it?
Ro: Yeah
Friendly Pastor (turning to me): And you?
Me: R-O-O-P-A, Roopa
Friendly Pastor: Roopa. Alright! See you both next Sunday, good bye.
Ro (to me): Call me Bob

The Haunted City - Day 3

2007-05-09T15:04:00.000-07:00

We were most productive on day 3, because we'd planned the day well. We started at the Castle museum that I was most fascinated by. Here we found living rooms from different periods and regions, the oldest vaccuum cleaners, toilets from different times, detergents and soaps from different eras, baby clothes, coffins, wedding gowns, receipts to burial plots, a magnificent clock, and a street from the past with shops, shopkeepers, a school, and a prison. We were in another time.

Victorian sitting room

A living room from the 1950s

Interestingly, all of these rooms came with accompanying sounds. In the second room the radio was on, and on the shelf an old picture was displayed. In another room from the Yorkshire moors, you could hear the breeze outside. Inside, a rabbit hung from the ceiling, and the room was scattered with some basic wooden toys.

An old vaccuum cleaner

Two old toilets

An old washing machine

A funeral (the family is visible behind)

Moi standing beside a horse carriage in the model of a Victorian street

After the museum, we ran towards the river Ouse, where we took a boat ride. While on this trip, we were given the history of the places we passed. We also passed a rowing club, where a lot of excited youngsters were competing against eachother.

After this trip, we were off to find the York Brewery. Thanks to our York pass, we were getting a tour of the brewery, but the incentive was the free beer. We crossed Dame Judi Dench walk, and followed the signs leading to the brewery.

However, as we were too early, we decided to check out the Nicklegate Bar museum first. A place that has witnessed numerous crimes, it is most well known for displaying the skulls of people who were executed. Though they aren't real now, i thought it was morbid. However i was fascinated by the wooden stairs and the museum keeper. I asked him if he'd seen any of the ghosts that supposedly haunt the museum today. A chatty old man, he explained the ghosts were responsible for his white hair. On a serious note, he added that he often sensed Sarah (a girl walking around with a key)'s presence. He even told us about a visitor who said he smelt cooking on the first floor. Incidentally it was there that a woman poisoned the food she was cooking before killing a group. He admitted to having heard footsteps from time to time, before asking me if i'd had any ghost sightings. When I said "no", he proceeded to tell me about a house he nearly bought, in which his daughter saw the man who'd killed himself in the house. Spooky!

By the time this tour was over, the brewery was open. We got a beer each before the tour, and another one of our choice at the end of it. I'm not too fond of beer, so while I made pretenses of drinking the beer, Ro finished up mine as well. He is now a fan of the Yorkshire Terrier. The tour of the brewery was boring. I barely understood the bartender's accent, and he seemed disgruntled about having to explain the process to different groups over and over again. Ro was paying attention though, because I caught him asking questions. After the tour and all that beer, Ro was full and happy, but I still needed to get some lunch. So we went in search of food.

After lunch, our next destination was the Roman bath. Another haunted spot, we were welcomed to this site by a guide dressed as a Roman soldier. Escavated in 1930, a modern steel walkway suspended above the ancient remains, takes visitors through the Tepidarium (warm room), Caldarium (hot steam room), and the Frigidarium (cold lunge pool). What I found most interesting however, was the sponge attached to a stick that the romans used to clean their butts, and the armour that we could try on. I tried a pathetic imitation of the Romans. From here, we wandered into Barley Hall, a magnificent medieval town house. Here we stepped back in time to the late 1480s, to discover what life was like in the busy household of Lord Mayor of York and Goldsmith, Alderman William Snawsell. Much of the restoration process is still ongoing in this house, but we did wander through the house, and see some beautiful tapestries.

Then we went to our last destination, the Treasurer's house. Named after the treasurer of York Minster, this magnificent house nestled behind the Minister came as a huge surprise. I didn't expect such grandeur and magnificence. Home to business man Frank Green, who lived in the house with his staff, the contents of the house have been displayed as they were during Green's time. One of the first houses acquired by the National trust, it was also one of the first few houses to have electricity. The house that once housed Prince Edward and his wife during a holiday, is proof of how wealthy green was. He was also a man who was immensely interested in decorating his house. The color schemes, the curtains, the designs on the furniture, and the furniture itself were all careful chosen by him. When the house was handed over to the National Trust, he asked that nothing be moved, and threatened to haunt the house later if it was. Of all the houses i'd been to, this was the most grand, and I was in awe, as I walked up the wooden staircase into the different rooms that now displayed huge beds with exquisite curtains covering them. The audio guide gave us information on each room. However, there was a guide in every room, so we could ask them any questions about the house or Frank Green, the loner who lived in the house with his staff, a parrot, and a dog. These guides breathed life into him, making him a real presence wherever we went. We'd come in too late, so we weren't allowed into the ghost cellar, where there have been sightings. So we left disheartened that we hadn't witnessed any ghosts during our stay in York.

After all this history, we decided we needed to get back to the present. So Starbucks it was. We had our coffee and walked back to our bed&breakfast. The holiday was finally over, but what a holiday it had been. Undeniably one of the most interesting places I'd been to, York had proved to be a memorable holiday.

The Haunted City - Day 2 (contd)

2007-05-09T00:13:00.000-07:00

From York Minster, we wandered into the Shambles that are narrow, winding medival streets housing quaint little shops on either side. It's been in existence for 900 years, and if not for a few designer labels, you'd think you'd been transported to the past.

We encountered numerous street performers here.

We got ourselves some lunch, checked the map, and walked in the direction of the York DIG. We crossed the amusing Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate, which is the shortest street in York. Known in 1505 as Whitnourwhatnourgate, it was later changed to its present name. According to local legend, this is where men whipped their nagging wives (hence Whip-ma-whop-ma). This place turned out to be Ro's favorite spot!We also found the home of Margaret Clitherow, who fought for the abolition of slavery and for women's rights. She was martyred in York, and later canonised in 1970. Then, we were off to the Dig, where we found "real" archeologists who proudly displayed the results of their five years in the site. We saw tiles, pipes, tanks, and bones; all from the distant past.

A few minutes later, we were out again, looking for the York dungeon. Along the way, we crossed the famous Black Swan, a 15th century house that supposedly houses a few ghosts today. It belonged to William Bowes, who was the mayor of York in 1443.

Right across is a church where interesting christenings take place. The church has two doors, one that is normal sized so people can enter, and the other, a small door to let out evil spirits.Notice the small door towards the right.

York dungeon was mere entertainment. We were led into a makeshift dungeon filled with moving skeletons, a door that screams when you attempt opening it, and several actors dressed as ghosts. The children ahead of us seemed to be enjoying themselves. They were cheeky with the actors who worked hard at scaring us, and laughed aloud when the actor glared at them angrily. I was perhaps the most easily startled. I held on to Ro's hand, and jumped screaming when a skeleton screeched into my ears. Phew! Here, we got a peek into what the plague did, the dead, the torture chamber, a court that sentenced people for the smallest crimes, and the hanging of Dick Turpin. The entire exercise was entertaining, but it had eaten into our time. There was little else we could do.

However, we still had time for Clifford's Tower. The remains of the York castle, this is where William the Conquerer first built a wooden castle in 1086, overlooking the river Ouse. It was burned down by the natives and this second castle was built. The castle has witnessed some of the most horrific moments in history, such as the massacre of the jews in 1190. We climbed up the winding stone steps and went on top to view the city from it.

By the time we were out, there wasn't much we could do. All the other museums had closed for the day, and we had time to ourselves. We were tired, so we got some fruit juice at an interesting little joint called Le Place Verte. Adjacent to the river, this tiny place once had the machinery needed to open up the bridge next to it, whenever a vessel had to pass.
By the time we were done, it was only 6, and we weren't too keen on going back to our bed&breakfast just as yet. So we decided to walk along the city wall. We began at one end, and before we knew it, we were close to where we were staying. We couldn't believe just how small the city was. However, before we began this walk, we marked out places on our map and planned the Day 2. We wanted to see as much as we could, and waste little time.

I'm glad we planned day 2, because we managed to see a LOT more than we did on day 1.

The Haunted City - Day 2 (York Minster) - Part 1

2007-05-08T00:17:00.000-07:00

After a traditional English breakfast that consisted of an egg, bacon, brown hash, baked beans, mushrooms, baked tomato, sausage, and toast, we were out with our cameras. Our first stop was the station, where we got ourselves the York pass. For 27 pounds, the pass that is valid for two days gained us free entry into various tourist haunts. As we were still new to the city, we decided to begin with the discounted (again coz of our pass) tour bus ride. During the 45-minute tour, we drove past various churches, museums, and shopping areas. Only then did we realize just how small the city was. We actually could walk through the entire city, guided by a simple map and the city signs. No buses, no taxis, and no tube. We got off at Exhibition Square, to visit York Minster. After walking past Bootham Hall and several quaint little shops (expensive though), we were in the magnificent presence of the Church. Built in the shape of a cross, the church that took over 250 years to build, was exquisite. The stained glass and carved stones had crosses as well, and the architecture was detailed and awe-inspiring. We didn't go for service that had already began, but walked all around the church. An artist was busy at work outside. After admiring his work, we went into St Micheal Le Belfrey. the older church next to the Minster. There have been Christians in York since the Roman times, and church buildings in this area since the year 627, when Bishop Paulinus baptised Edwin, king of Northumbria. Saxon burials discovered in Petergate prove that St Michael's is of early origin. This church was rebuilt between 1525 and 1537, during Henry VIII's break with Rome. John Forman, the Minster's master mason buit it in the Tudor gothic style with renaissance influence. Much of the stained glass in the church has survived from that era. Interestingly, this is also the church were Guy Fawkes was baptised. After exploring this church, we walked on further, till we found a grand statue of Constantine. The statue finds place here, because Constantine was proclaimed Roman emperor here. He recognized the faith of his subjects and soon converted to Christianity as well, thereby establishing the foundations of Christianity in the region. From across his status is a tall column. This Roman column once stood within the great hall of the headquarters building of the fortress of the sixth legion, in the 4th century. It was found in 1969 during the escavation of the south transept of the Minster, lying where it had collapsed.

Then we moved into the Minster. Service was on, and the entire church was filled hymns.
While the choir kept busy, we used our York passes for entry into the undercroft, treasury, and crypt. With the aid of an audio guide, and exhibits from the different ages, we learned the story of the Minster through the ages. We found the remains of the Roman fortress, Viking Norman and medival carvings together with treasures and jewels of archbishops. The crypt is still used for special services, and it is also the final resting place of St William of York. By the time this amazing tour ended, it was time for lunch. We still had a LOT more to explore, and our day had just begun.

The Haunted City - Day 1

2007-05-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

When Ro gave me the responsibility of picking a destination for the long weekend, I knew I wanted more than just scenic beauty. Ofcourse, we didnt need just the flowers and lakes, as we weren't keen on dancing around trees or staring lovingly into eachothers eyes..erm..souls! So "History" it was, yet around. York came with the promise of a lot of history. However, if I'd known the city was one of the most haunted places in this region, I'd have been even more enthusiastic.

The tickets and accomodation were booked, and I spent all of Friday ironing and packing our clothes. Armed with a bag, and a book for the journey, we set out to Kings Cross station, where a train would take us to York. In the station, Ro decided to have some fun at my expense.
"Seat No", he said. "That's what the ticket says."

"No must be Number", i suggested.

"It just means we have no seats", joked Ro in an attempt to shock me.
"Really" I asked with a barely disguised frown. I didn't quite enjoy the prospect of standing my way to York. Two hours was too long for someone who wanted a comfortable window seat, enough leg space, and the option of dozing off.

"Kidding! As this is a two-hour long journey, it just means that you can sit on any seat", explained Ro gently.

Relieved, I followed him to the train. We walked past six bogeys of first class luxury, before realizing that we actually didn't have seats. We had two standing tickets! The ticket collecter said, "You can sit, if there are vacancies.

"Vacancies? The whole world is on this train", i laughed! Now I was amused that Ro's joke wasn't just a joke anymore. Anyway, adventurous souls that we are, we climbed into a crowded compartment, stepped on a few toes, apologised to a few bags and snaked our way in.

I couldn't believe, we were standing and travelling in Britain. "This would never have happened in India", we joked. Once the train began moving, everyone started getting comfortable. Some sat on the floor, one sat inside the loo, and a few others (moi included) sat on suitcases. However, after an hour of patience, someone stood up to leave. I charged ahead and sat down. A few minutes later Ro found a seat as well, so we were able to sit, read, and nap before getting to York.

By the time we got to York, it was past 9.30. I was pleasantly surprised. Unlike in London, the inhabitants of York were friendly. They smiled, spoke, and helped. When we were pouring over a map, a young woman offered to help us find our way to our Bed & Breakfast. We got directions from her, and in true touristy fashion we walked to the guest house. It wasn't too far, and luckily I wasn't as cold as I feared.

We found the place easily.

Jenny welcomed us in with a warm, friendly smile, and a map of York. She told us how we could get to the city the next morning, and explore. However, before that we needed directions to a nearby restaurant.

If what I noticed most about the city were its friendly people, I had to think again. The teeny city was sprawling with Indian restaurants. The Taj Mahal, Viceroy of India, York Spice, and Lal Quila were just some of the many restaurants we'd walked past. On day one, we stopped by York Spice, for some rather delicious parathas and chicken. We poured over our maps, made a few plans for the next day, ate our dinner, and then it was time to sleep. We walked back to our cosy room, set the alarm for 6.30, and watched some TV before dozing off. When we did, little did we know just how much we would encounter in this exciting little city.