Finding Myself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.