Brothers

I was recently asked how I dealt with being mommy to two boys who were completely different from each other. I paused, and responded with the age old cliche, "aren't all kids unique and different?" The answer seemed to satisfy her, but I began to think about whether my kids were really that different.

To the outsider, Adiv has always been the extrovert who befriends different groups of kids, and has long conversations with their mothers. He is loud, emotional, dramatic, and very demonstrative. Meanwhile, Aarit appears shy. After several meetings, he will welcome you with the hint of a smile, and maybe put out his hand (if you are lucky). He is quieter, stingy with his hugs and kisses (I get many, thanks to my mimi status), and maybe not as emotional (it's still too early to tell). When Adiv is home, there is always some drama. You'll hear toys crashing out of his toy cupboard, cars falls down the stairs, or the thumping sound of him dancing on the coffee table (to "lungi dance" or some other latest hit). Aarit however is the reader, who will spend hours pouring over books with animal pictures. Though he enjoys small puzzles, he will throw it all aside for a song (also lungi dance), jump onto the small coffee table and dance. As I write this, he is grooving to "let's party all night", the latest Akshay Kumar song. (yeah, they've both inherited their taste in music from their mother. ) When their song isn't playing, they cycle around the furniture, or bounce balls (the soft ones) off eachother's heads and laugh!

In their quieter moments, Adiv engages in pretend games with his cars, while Aarit settles down to talk to the neighborhood cat. Just as he urges our dog Spot to eat, he urges Tabby (the cat) to drink up. He is clearly the animal lover in the family, unlike Adiv who prefers them in zoos.

Even when it comes to food, they are quite different, despite their shared preference for meat. While Adiv is mostly oblivious to what is on his plate, Aarit enjoys what he eats (though small portions). So when we are in a restaurant, he will sit around and taste new things, while Adiv is wandering around befriending other kids who're just as disinterested in their food. 

Despite all their differences, what they have in common, is their love for eachother. Aarit weeps piteously every morning when Adiv jumps into his school bus, only to wait patiently by the door step for him to return. Adiv is welcomed with hugs and kisses. Like all older brothers, Adiv teases him, also declaring from time to time that we should return Aarit to the hospital. But then, during trips to the Zoo, he also worries about whether the bears and lions will eat up his brother. Thanks to a steady diet of masala hindi flicks, he is always on the look out for gundis (his word for goodas) who might want to kidnap his brother.

Despite all their differences, they work well together. They enjoy running around the dining table, drinking pretend tea, watching Rowdy Rathore over and over again, going for drives, or simply laughing (just because you can!).
 And finally, isn't that all that matters.

Aarit is here!

Aarit finally decided to make his much-awaited debut on the 14th of January. I had my last check up on the 13th, when the doctor suggested we wait a big longer. Tired and exhausted (Adiv said he was getting irritated because the baby was taking this long) I went to bed, only to wake up at 3 in the morning with mild contractions. Despite the repeated nudging, Rohit jumped out of bed only when I announced emphatically that it was time to get to the hospital. We left immediately and hours later, at 7.38, Aarit was here.

Labor was quick and unbelievably painful (despite assurances from everyone that it would be easier this time), but seeing Aarit made it all worth it. He was perfect, healthy, and resembled his excited older brother. I spoke to Adiv soon after Aarit's birth, and he reminded me that the boys team was now stronger. Rohit who'd endured my blood curdling screams for a few hours was ecstatic. He joked about how I'd fractured his arm while I held on to him, before rushing out to call family and sneak into the NICU to see his newborn.

When Adiv finally arrived to see his brother, he was visibly thrilled. We'd wrapped up presents for him (supposedly from the baby), and that won the baby several brownie points. And when we placed the baby on his lap, he gushed about how tiny and beautiful the baby's toes and fingers were.

*

We've all been busy since then. Adiv is busy with school and friends, and he can't quite understand why his brother sleeps as much. He is waiting for him to grow up, so they can play (he also wants to give him lessons on farting and peeing!!) . I spend as much time as I can with him, doing everything for him, so he doesn't feel left out. Luckily he has friends he meets every day in the evening, and my parents who pamper him with outings and games.

Meanwhile, Aarit is transitioning from a sleepy, milk-drinking, frequently pooping (and peeing) infant, into a responsive, cooing, sleepy, milk-drinking, frequently pooping (and peeing) infant. Adiv and my Mom sing him to sleep with the song that my mom used to sing to us and Adiv (works like magic even now), while Pappa entertains Adiv with games that involve much running, policemen and thieves. While I'm busy making sure Adiv with his boisterous demonstrations doesn't pull out the baby's arm, Rohit is back to being the weekend father and husband, till we get back to Bangalore.

We never been busier and more tired, but we've also never been happier. Though I barely have the time to comb my hair or enjoy a nap, the family feels complete. Now I look forward to more adventures with my boys!

Fear

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

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

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

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

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.