Random Ramblings

Medley of sorts

2007-11-26T17:35:00.000+05:30

I am feeling particularly lazy and out of ideas. (Smirk: As if I am otherwise buzzing with ideas). So I will make this post a medley of updates from the last couple of weeks.

Afternoon showers
Sunday afternoon: Tyke has finished siesta and is in a very playful mood. I have just taken off her diaper, so I ask her “Tyke, shall we go and do su-su?” She resolutely says “Nooooo”. “Are you sure?”, I ask. She lets out a deep-throated wail, points out the window and says she wants to climb up there. Not wanting to start another battle of wills, I lift her and put her on the bedroom window-sill. She holds on tightly to the bars. I am not actually holding Tyke, since she is balanced nicely on the window sill, but I am standing right behind her, to catch her in case she loses balance. She is smiling to herself, and points out to the squirrel scampering on the neighboring terrace. A nice dreamy moment, and I feel content, happy to be a mother, happy to be with her.. and then, ssssssssssssssss…… the sound of water sprinkling on metal. I look down to see a fountain of pee falling directly on the metal box of the window A/C jutting outside the window. I could only hope there was no one standing right below that window at that point.

The Parrot phase
Tyke is now in “the parrot” phase in evolution. Which means that she repeats anything we say – well, attempts to repeat, at least. And most of what she talks in any given situation comprises of what DH or I would have said in that situation.

Like she goes and slips on my sandals, and then says “chappal thodaathe. Adi kittum” (Note the combination, first sentence in Tamil and next in Malayalam). Once she was calling out to me from another room, I called back and said “Amma itho irukken” (meaning “Amma is here”). So now, when she calls for me, and she finds out I am in another room, she comes running there saying “Amma itho irukken”.

Tenacious little Tyke
Each time Tyke cries/howls/throws a tantrum for something, she stops crying after the first few minutes. She then says in a singy-songy semi-crying tune, “Ethukku azhuthaai?” if I am around or “Enthinaa karayunnathu” if DH is around – both meaning “Why did you cry?” Now, we never make the mistake of asking her that question, because 99 times out of 100, we know why she is throwing the tantrum and don’t need to ask this question. So she asks this question and then she answers her own question by giving the reason - “TV off panna azhuthen” (I cried because the TV was switched off). And she does this E.V.E.R.Y time she cries – She must be thinking “Maybe these dumbos didn’t actually understand that I cried because they switched off the TV, so I might as well tell them that. Maybe then they will get it into their thick skulls and switch it on again”. These days, we start laughing out loud (yes, cruel parents!) when she starts off “Ethukku azhuthaai?” much to her irritation – that sends her back howling again. She must be thinking “How can they? – Here I am, going great lengths to explain to these duds what I want – and they have the sheer gumption to laugh at my attempts”.

Tantrum Spot
Of late, whenever Tyke’s (unreasonable) demands are not met and she is in a rage, she goes off running to our smallest bedroom, climbs on the bed and perches herself in a particular spot facing the mirror. She is of course howling loudly and has indignant tears streaming down her face. So she sits there rocking to and fro, and watching herself cry in the mirror, all the while waiting for someone to come and console her/give her the desired object/ give in to her demand! What a Drama Queen!
Now, I know Tyke loves routines and believes that every thing has a place– she doesn’t yet put her toys back in place, but expects to find them in the same place everyday (yeah, dad’s gene I guess). So now I think she has identified this room and spot as her “Anger Spot” – the place she runs to every time she is angry or upset.

And the many joys…
Tyke is such sheer delight to be with (when she is not at her difficult worst) and I just love being with her and watching her and interacting with her. Sometimes she spontaneously comes and hugs me.. and makes my day. She is always watching, trying to mimic and learn. And she is always following me around – it’s like having a shadow. It is trying at times, but nothing is so good to your self-esteem as having someone love you so much .
I have these moments when I feel that she is a grown-up – She knows when I am under the cloud and tries to kiss me and hug me to happiness. We even share jokes and have a laugh. I mean we actually share jokes - how cool is that! Here is one of the “jokes”:

Background: There was a time not long back when Tyke would pronounce “Baby Bop” as “Beee Baaap”. Nowadays she pronounces it right, but she also knows that she used to do it wrong J

Conversation:
I point to a picture of Baby Bop and say (semi-mockingly in a thrilled voice) “Tyke, here is Beee-Baaap”.

She grins in embarrassment (yes!) and says “Baby Bopppp.”, the last syllable resounding to show that she can pronounce it right. And she is proud of it.

So I say “Oh I see. So who says “Beeee Baaaap’?”

A twinkle in her eyes, Tyke promptly replies “Achaaa”. And we giggle away to glory.

It is of course very convenient that Acha (DH) is not around at the time of this conversation.

Bottomline
At the end of a long day, there is no better way to unwind than spending time with my precious little Tyke. Nothing I would be rather doing.. well… not yet, at least.

Realization and the result

2007-11-26T17:33:00.000+05:30

When I started this blog, I had no clue what I would write about. I knew it was not a journal –because a journal gets updated regularly and I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss all aspects of my life either. As opposed to a couple of other “mommy blogs”, I didn’t want mine to be a mommy blog –I reasoned that my life was full of my child and work, so I didn’t want this blog to talk about that too – I wanted to talk about something else, refreshingly different. I knew what I didn’t want it to be.. but was never sure what I wanted it to be. And that is why I chose the natural acronyms DD and DH as blog names for the 2 important people in my life.

Ironically, it turned out that most of my posts are about my daughter, or my experiences as a parent and such. I discovered that I enjoyed writing about her better than anything else, because I am passionate about this topic. So all the intentions of my blog being something ‘away from work and parenting’ flew out of the window. It took a blog, among other things, to teach me that being a mother is the most important part of being myself.. And there is no running away from it.

And then came the realization that I had been shortsighted in referring to my daughter as plain-vanilla “DD” in my blog. Nothing wrong with it, but the hitch is that when I write and refer to her as DD, I don’t really get the feeling that I am writing about her.

So better late than never, I have decided to give her a name for my blog – especially since I write so much about her. This name has to be “personal” for me so that I feel I am writing about her. And obviously I don’t want to use her real name. So, I have come up with this name that DH and I use to refer to her in some of our conversations – especially when we discuss with exasperation, her rambunctious behavior – “Tyke”. So there – after more than a year of blogging, I have woken up to the central character in my blogs, and christened her too!

DH will remain DH – I am rolling on the floor laughing thinking of all the nick-names I can use for him. Most, no, all of them will seriously dent his public persona - And if I do that, being the proud Leo that he is, he might just chop me into pieces and dump me into the Cooum :-). So he continues to be the impersonal and respectable DH.

Memories of festivals

2007-11-09T10:45:00.000+05:30

After mid-August every year, it is the festival flurry in India. There is Onam for the Mallus, Avani Avittam for the Tamils, Raksha Bandhan for most of India, all around the same time. This is followed by Vinayaka Chathurthi and Krishnastami. Then of course there is the Navarathri/ Durga Puja/ Dassera, the celebration and worship of the feminine power, Shakti. Close on heels comes Deepavali, the festival of lights that signifies the victory of the good over evil. And then we had Karthigai Deepam.

When I was young, I remember eagerly waiting for the festive season to start, for the obvious reasons - I knew that each festival meant a lot of goodies and snacks ("palaharams"), not to mention new dresses. Onam meant "Ada prathaman" and some other payasam, Krishnashtami meant soft, fluffy, golden-brown appam (unniyappam) and crisp, round "cheedai". Navarathri was always great - one got to wear pattu pavadai and deck up in finery, eat "sundal" and also got "thamboolam" from different houses. The star attraction was, of course, the token amount of 1Re or 2 Rs coin that was given along with the thamboolam, which went straight into the piggy bank. One even got told not to touch books or study on the Mahanavami Day. That definitely was the cream. Deepavali meant new dresses, bursting crackers, having fun and eating loads of stuff - the most special ukkarai, mixture and a variety of sweets. Now you get the picture of the sort of person I used to be as a child.. well, I haven't changed much :-)

Somewhere along the late teens, I lost interest in most of the festivals. Probably it was part of the eternal "question and rebel" teenage-state. Perhaps, in that strange way that only a teenager can think of, I thought myself too grown-up to burst crackers or go around to all neighbours' houses for thamboolam. And I thought I had better things to do with my life and my time. It was a period when I questioned everything - the need to celebrate festivals was also one of them. And then I left home and started working. For the next 6 years, I hardly remember celebrating any festival in a proper way. Yes, I did visit temples on some of the festivals and I did end up making a sweet for Diwali once. But it never felt like celebration. I was too busy with work most of the time and more often than not, I remembered the festival only when my family called up to wish me. Life was a whirlwind, and career was the centre-piece. An average work day was 12 hour long, there was no time to pause,no time to even prepare healthy dinner or get laundry done and so celebrating festivals was the last on my list.

Actually speaking, marriage did not make a huge difference to this lifestyle - in fact, it worsened it I think, because DH and I made a completely career-oriented couple, he being a greater workaholic than me. And his family is not big on festivals. So for him, a festival day or even an anniversary day is not much special (yeah.. totally unromantic... tell me about it!). If I ever felt gulity about not doing anything special on a festival day, he would remind me of his "Every day is special" theory. Even on the year that Onam fell on a weekend, I remember that I was so wiped-out tired after a long week at work, and we had "Ona Sadya" at a nice restaurant in Chennai. So in essence, we were like a couple who largely stuck to a "bachelor lifestyle". The fridge would sometimes become empty mid-week, and since I worked late on week days, I would wait till weekend to stock it again. Till then, we would eat out or live on Maggi noodles and milk. So where was the time for festivals?

And then DD came along. That small yet powerful presence in our lives, helpless by itself but all-controlling. I made it a point to come home from work before she slept. And I also preferred to give her dinner myself. And that meant I got back at the latest by 7 PM daily. And that was just the beginning. My priorities did a U-turn, and I began spending more time at home, and consequentially, less time at work. I cannot say that life slowed down, because daily life is still a whirlwind of tasks to be completed and things to be done. But we now have a home and live like a family - I find time to shop mid-week for vegetables, fruits and essentials, because I cannot think of feeding DD junk food for a day, even if the weekend is temptingly only a day away. The laundry gets done, the sheets and curtains changed regularly and the rooms are dusted everyday because I, like any responsible mother, want to provide a clean and warm home to my child.

And as she started her second year, I caught myself planning to celebrate festivals!!. It was not something I had consciously decided to do, but it just started off so naturally, like it was an instinct. Like you come back to a place you knew long before, and you know your way around, without needing to ask for it. Of course I don't go all the way and make all the goodies for each festival, but I try to do something special for the ones I consider important. So this Onam, we had a proper "Sadya" (as proper as it can be, with my skills and knowledge). My cook being a Tamilian, was sure to mess up the Kerala dishes. So I made her do the groundwork of cutting and scraping coconut, and astonished myself by spending 3 hrs straight in the kitchen to dish out the sadya. Last Karthigai, I brought out lamps that had not seen the sunlight in the last decade or so, cleaned and polished them, and lit them at our doorstep. This Navarathri, I invited friends over for Thamboolam. And this Diwali, we had crackers (a brand that does not use child labour) and sweets and new dresses for everyone.

It is not that I have suddenly become a stickler for traditions. And I don't know if this is a one-year wonder where I managed to find time for all this. I really hope not, because I want DD to have special memories of festivals, and gro up to associate them with the warmth of love, the smell of comfort food and the happiness of celebrating as a family.

A change and a life lesson

2007-10-28T11:03:00.000+05:30

DD completed one week of extended timing at daycare. Starting last Monday, we dropped her off at 8.45 AM and picked her up at 3.30 PM. I was not worried much about her sleep, coz I know she dozes off if she is really sleepy. But the thing that I D.R.E.A.D.E.D was that she would go on hunger strike, and as a result, throw tantrums.

On Day1, Monday, I tremulously picked up the phone and called the daycare at 12.30 PM to check if she had had lunch. And when they said that she had absolutely refused to have beyond 2 spoonfuls of lunch, it was like my worst nightmare come true. But when she came home that evening, her daily sheet from the daycare mentioned that she had filled herself up with healthy snacks at 3 PM. And from Day2, she started having reasonable amounts of lunch too. Day 2, when I was speaking with her teacher, I casually mentioned that DD is very averse to drinking milk from a cup, while awake - we normally give her a bottle of milk after she falls asleep for her nap (!!yes!!) and I could almost visualize the teacher sneering at me from the other end, while I just heard an "Oh...." over the phone. Day3 dawned. I was now fairly confident that DD would eat at least some amounts of lunch and snack. When I called the daycare, the teacher told me she had eaten quite well and then added: "But I thought you said she doesn't like milk. She drank a whole cup after lunch today." To say I was FLABBERGASTED would be an understatement. This was something I had tried about a zillion times with and without external aids like TV, books and what not. I managed to find my words after a minute, and asked "Are you sure?", to which the teacher replied that she was positive she saw DD downing the whole cup of milk. I know she must have thought I am one crazy nut, because I let out a long, semi-hysterical cackle and cut the call (I think I didnt say bye) to share this headline with DH.

I had never anticipated, even at my optimistic best, that DD would adapt so quickly, especially since this concerned the sore point in our lives - her food habits. And I am so very proud of my little tyke :-) Her ability to adapt to new situations has emerged clearly now- first, when I started her on daycare, and then now, she takes to this change in routine like fish to water. After the 2nd day, she has been ever-so-eager to go to school and gets ready so willingly. She has never cried or clung on to us. And now this.. Thank the Lord God and His small, ooppss... very big ... mercies.

Parents, and in particular, mothers, are always proud of their kids' ahcievements. I have seen parents comparing their child's milestones with other children - and feeling proud or alternately getting worried about them. I too have been guilty of this many times in the past. Until I realized the truth that thinking about these milestones is actually taking some joy out of me enjoying her childhood. Having said this, it is difficult not to wonder and I still keep fighting some of these demons in my mind. When I see a 20 month-old jumping gaily, I wonder why DD, who can walk, run, climb and manoeuvre herself well, does not jump? And then, in age-old wisdom, tell myself that each child has his/her pace. A week later, if I see another 2 year old happily doing a jigsaw puzzle, I wonder if DD would be able to do this. And probably this is true for most mothers and is never going to end.

But beyond all these physical and cognitive milestones, which I am fairly sure any normal child will achieve sooner or later, there are the life-skills. And the ability to handle change and adapt quickly, I know, is one of them. And that is precisely why this quality of DD means a lot to me. Not because it allows me peace and makes my life easier, but mainly because I believe this characteristic will make a lot of difference to DD's life, if she retains it into adulthood. And years later, if DD ever comes across this post, I want her to know that she has really really done me proud here.

DD also taught me a life lesson here - that the fear of something is always worse than the 'something' itself. It took me 3 months to mentally prepare myself for this change, and took her exactly 3 days to adapt to it.

Miscellaneous updates

2007-10-24T11:02:00.000+05:30

The intention of this post is to record certain interesting and entertaining quirks/incidents in the life of the great Drama Queen (that's what DD has morphed into these days) for posterity. She might hate me/kill me for this when she gets to read this. Or maybe I would end up using this post as a weapon to blackmail her a decade or so from now, when she insists on wearing clothes that I do not approve of. Hmm.. not a bad thought at all, considering the fact that she already doesn't quite approve of my choice of clothes for her.

1) While feeding, if even a small amount of food is smeared around her mouth, Her Highness senses it immediately. So what does she do? She wipes it off her face in a quick stroke using the back of her hand, and then regally stretches her hand out to me, the attendant, to wipe clean. And this act is done with such a natural flourish that she almost looks like a princess who is used to being waited upon, and I most definitely feel like her waiting hand maiden.

2) Around 6-7 months back, I once asked DD for a kiss and promptly got one, and being very pleased, I said "thaaank youuu" to her. Post this incident, whenever she kisses me on my cheek, sometimes voluntarily and sometimes on request, she starts saying "Thaaan chu-chu-chu-chu". Mind you, she can say "Thank You" very clearly and correctly. But whenever she kisses, she says "chu-chu-chu-chu-chu" deliberately. And this happens only when she kisses me, not for DH or others.

3) When we laugh out aloud at something, she doesn't like it!! She thinks we are laughing at her and shrieks out "Enna paathu chirikkaathee" (Don't laugh at me). I really don't think we have laughed out aloud at any of her doings/sayings in such a way as to psychologically mar her or anything. And we just don't remember when this started. But at least for the last couple of months, she thinks that all the world is laughing at her :)

4) There is this "song" that DH has been singing(gulp?!!!!?) for her since she was a month old. DH calls her Mimi (pronounced Me-Me) most of the time..no one knows why. So this so-called song goes something like this... my very bad translation in English is enclosed in brackets

"Achante Mimi (Dad's Mimi)

Sunnnnndari Mimi (Beautiful Mimi)

Pakrunni Mimi (cannot be translated - Pakru means roly poly I think and Unni is a general term used for kids)

Vaaaavaaaachiiiiiii" (an endearment again)

Now, based on DH's mood and DD's doings for the day, the words of the songs vary a lot, especially the middle lines.. they can be "chakkara Mimi" or "Luttappi mimi" (a little Devil in a Malayalam cartoon called Mayavi) or "Poth-unni Mimi" ("Pothu" in buffalo in Malayalam and unni being a kid, it roughly means little buffalo).

Of late, when DH sings (he claims he is singing, but it is more like reciting) the first 3 lines, DD chips in and says "Vaaavaaachiiiiii", in chorus with her dad.

5) DD's greatest obsession at this point is Noddy. And her favorite characters apart from Noddy - Martha Monkey and the Goblins- Sly and Gobo. All the mischief and trouble makers of course... Since she is officially hero-worshipping them, I don't think her behavior is going to take a turn for the better anytime now.

Thomas and Friends have always been liked, but are not quite favorites. But of all the trains, she loves Toby the Tram Engine. She listens in rapt attention to the "Toby" song on the DVD and pronounces happily that Toby's coach is called "Enri-etta" (that's how she pronounces Henrietta).

6) DD thinks that my stomach is a bouncing pad for her. I don't blame her for thinking so:). Sometimes she makes me lie down on bed, sits on my tummy and bounces up and down with a vengeance, giggling and chuckling away to herself. Any protest from me or attempt to free myself is met with shrieks and tears.. so in the end, I have to somehow distract her into other games and get away.

There is much more i guess.. but I plan to keep some for my later posts.

The Ten Commandments..

2007-10-15T17:14:00.000+05:30

These are the ten commandments that form the basis of my life these days. The Ten Commandments of the great, all-encompassing force in my life.....namely DD :-)

Thou Shalt have no other priorities before me. I don’t care if you are hungry or haven’t slept well in 4 days – I want my whims to be catered to and shall have no excuses whatsoever.
Thou shalt not watch a movie or dine in peace. The moment you let down your guard and relax a wee tiny bit, I will call for attention - I will be hungry, thirsty, have a call of nature or at least want to be scratched in my toes for an imaginary mosquito bite.
Thou shalt learn to respect Murphy and his laws. If you think I will sleep off early on a certain day (so you can make your wily plans), I will bound around with unending energy and make sure that you don’t have your way.
Thou shalt learn that “Silence = Trouble”, the hard way. Sudden spells of calm and silence from me are always followed by broken glass/toys, toys thrown out of the balcony or other such damages.
Thou shalt not have things easy, even with the use of brute force. You may be able to forcefully brush my teeth, but I will make sure that I scream my lungs out EVERY SINGLE morning and make all the neighbors cast dirty looks when you step out.
Thou shalt not force me to eat or drink anything against my will. On a good day, I will respond by puking on your hair and dress and on other days, I will throw a tantrum – the blood-curdling kind that will make you want to jump off the balcony and end it all for some peace and quiet.
Thou shalt not forbid me from doing anything. I will do it all the same, probably with more vigor, since the Forbidden Fruit is always more enticing.
Thou shalt not make smug statements to thy friends/hosts - “She never eats//drinks/does …..” – I will set out immediately to prove you wrong and make you eat humble pie.
Thou shalt not underestimate my powers of manipulation. I know exactly how to play on emotions and make you feel like the lowest form of life that ever crawled on this planet. I am also learning how to play you against dad and vice-versa.
Thou shalt, at all times, remember who calls the final shots in this game. And that, if you have any doubt, is ME. Size does not matter.

Nanny vs. daycare

2007-10-07T13:46:00.000+05:30

As a mother, this topic is something that has been occupying my thoughts for a long time now, and has contributed significantly to the greying of the few strands of hair left on my pate. So, after so much of my brain (and my so-called youth) has been eaten up in this worry, I still haven't really figured out the answer :-) but I think I am close.

When I started working, DD was only 5 months old. And I knew I had my MIL staying with me for a couple of months at least. So I decided to go with a nanny and registered with some agencies that are known to provide reliable nannies. The process of hunting for a nanny and the problems that I had with the succession of nannies that DD had (the current one is Nanny #3) are fodder for a separate post - or maybe even a series of posts. But things were chugging along and there was nothing major to complain of. So far, so good... till a few months ago, a time came when I had no family at home - no one from my side and no MIL. Since I knew this situation would arise, I had started DD on daycare for 3 hrs a day. And then, the nanny had to bring her home and take care of her till I came back from work.

The current nanny (I will call her N3) is quite good in terms of taking care of DD, cleanliness and all the basic criteria. And yet, I have nagging fears at the back of my mind. And so I opted for a few months of work-from-home and then some flexible timings, all because I couldn't convince myself to leave DD alone with N3 for long durations of time. Whenever I come home from work, I always find DD playing happily, well-fed and in clean clothes.. and I sometimes really think I am raving mad. N3 is good with DD, DD adores her, and things are fine.. and here I am, trying to obsess about problems that do not exist.

Apart from her official days off, N3 bunks at least a day or two each month. She has taken week-long sick leaves, calling in sick once with chikungunya, and another time with viral fever (Luckily both when MIL was around, so I didn't end up taking lots of leave myself). She has abysmal standards of punctuality. If I expected her to come in at 9.30 AM, she has always arrived 20 mts late , never on time. But I have always managed to get a hold on my temper and put up with her, for the single reason that she is good with my child, and that, to me, mattered the most.

2 weeks back, N3 called me one day and told me she was down with Malaria and would not be in for a couple of days. This time, I had to take leave from work to care for DD till she came back, which was 10 days later. And these 10 days gave me a lot of time to think. I tried to compare a reasonably good nanny (N3, in this context) to a good daycare system, seeing which provides better benefits to me and DD. And here is my comparison summary for anyone who cares to read thru:

1) Having a nanny is better in that the child gets personalized care, as against the "institution care" provided by a daycare center. I feel that the personalized care is probably quite important early in childhood (below age 1). The daycare is kind of "institutional-care" and obviously has the merits and demerits of that.

2) As the child grows, one has to be aware of the influences that the nanny has on the child, in terms of language, behavior and many other aspects. For eg, currently DD spends 3 hrs in daycare and 6 hrs in her nanny's care, so obviously she picks up more words/gestures from her nanny. And while it is possible to filter the market for reasonably well-groomed and well-mannered nannies, this can be no comparison to the quality of exposure at the daycare. Unless some of those Victorian governesses are still around :)

3) In my experience, nannies tend to get extremely complacent once they know that the child adores them
and their employer depends fully on them. Now this is a major problem since this upsets the equation, and often, leads to a situation where the employer is scared to rake up an issue with the nanny, lest she leaves. (yeah.. I sometimes maintain stoic silence if the issue is not directly related to DD). A well-run daycare centre normally incorporates valid feedback from parents, being a professionally-run institution.

4) Reliability - Unless one has a live-in nanny, there will ALWAYS be problems related to punctuality, not turning up when expected, undeclared days-off and all the rest of it. I don't know if this is true for countries outside India, or even cities like Mumbai, where domestic help is supposed to be more professional in their approach. But this is what I have seen in Chennai, and largely South India. The daycare obviously is more reliable. Having a live-in nanny would probably solve a lot of day-to-day issues, but if one lives in an apartment, this invariably means a compromise on your family's privacy.

5) How much routine? - Most daycare centres have a routine and the kids in daycare follow the routine, with some variations allowed. Most pareting material says that a child NEEDS a routine. I don't know if this is true for most kids, but it is certainly true for DD. She LOVES routines and seems to have an internal clock to go by schedule! To the extent that 95% of her days are routine-driven. The other 5%, she decides to vary her routine, for whatever reason. These 5% days will not be feasible if she is in a daycare full-time. And I found that when she was around a year old, the non-routine days were closer to 10-15%, but has come down now, due to a number of factors - one of which is that she has only one nap in a day. Which is why I feel that personalized care is needed at smaller ages.

6) Food- the daycare that I have chosen for DD, with all other criteria, insists that the kids should not bring food from home. While this is good from their perspective, since all kids get to eat the same food at the same time, this will probably force the kid to eat something that he/she does not like so much. Individual tastes are not catered to. While this may help the kids adapt better, one is always left with the question of whether they need to start adapting so young

7) Behavior and Discipline - The nanny is less likely to discipline a child, and the child gets the message that throwing a tantrum is the best way to get something he/she wants. In a day-care the child's energies are better spent and of course, better discipline is instilled. In addition, there is the definite advantage of having a peer-group around and learning from each other easily.

8) Health - It is true that if you have a clean and well-trained nanny, it is certainly better for your child's health than a daycare, where the child is exposed to viruses doing the rounds in peer-groups. So in the short run, this may present health problems, which also result in at least one of the parents taking leave from work to take care of the child frequently. But in the long run, this may be better because a child has to develop immunity and doctors opine that this is the only way their body learns.

9) Finally,the parent has to be comfortable with the arrangement. DD seems quite comfortable with being with N3 alone. But I am not, at least not fully. What works for one parent, doesn't for another.

So I am now closer to believing that DD is ready for longer durations at daycare - and so I am planning to extend her timings soon. For me, this reduces the dependence on N3 and also frees my mind from the nagging inhibitions that I have when DD is alone home with N3. But I know she is going to have eating and sleeping troubles initially, and probably going to fall sick more often(if that is possible!). I am promising that I will chant the mantra "Short term pains will lead to long term gains" and hang in there, and wait for her to settle down soon. Fingers Crossed.

Rant, rant, rant....

2007-09-21T21:49:00.000+05:30

These days, if my life is normal and uneventful for 2 weeks in a row, then I thank the Almighty profusely for His kindness and mercy. Such is the state of affairs!

DD is onto her 3rd month in playschool cum daycare. She is there for only 3 hrs a day, but the impact has been far-reaching. The first month, she picked up a throat infection and cold that made her quite ill for a week. The second month, it was a ear infection. 1 week again. And both the times, it was close to the 20th of the month. So this time, I was keeping my fingers crossed .. and then she started sneezing yesterday, on the 20th!! - these bugs are frighteningly regular, I must say. The pediatrician of course tells me matter-of-factly that this is how children get used to the whole school thing. But I am still trying to swallow the fact that I actually pay (school fees) to get her to suffer a week each month. SIGH... the things that we do!! And what's worse, more often than not, DH and I invariably end up with a bad bout of cold from the bugs that DD lovingly passes around.

Do all children that start play school fall sick every month with such remarkable regularity? If anyone of you has had such experiences, please provide me valuable survival tips. How does one remain sane with the demands of work, home, with DH away on a work trip, an extremely errant nanny (when it comes to punctuality) and clingy-and-ill baby? AArgh.. is there a light at the end of this tunnel?

2 years of mommy-hood

2007-09-17T17:47:00.000+05:30

Last month-end, DD turned two. I could hardly believe that it is two years since I brought the small Peanut-wrapped-in-a-pink-blanket home. These 2 years have had me swinging from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. There are times when I have been overjoyed at the sheer beauty and innocence of my child, I have felt my heart almost breaking with happiness and pride. I have also sunk to the depths of despair, felt overwhelmed by the very daunting job of motherhood. What a journey it has been... and I know this is only the beginning of the trip.

And so I thought of how motherhood had changed me and how I have evolved (am still evolving) as an individual and as a parent. And when I took stock of it, was I shocked!! I cannot recognize the person I have morphed into :-). So here are some details on what mommy-hood has done to me.

1)I remember not so long in the past, when I was out and out a career-driven person, looking down (ever-so-slightly, but yes, I did) on women who did not give their jobs their 120%. I always reasoned that if they did not have it in them, then they should choose not to work. Short-sighted that I was, little did I realize that when the small shrivelled being enters your world, the entire world goes topsy-turvy. And everything else, including husband, gets sidelined. Today I know what it is to be a mom who works outside, I know why such moms cannot give TOP priority to their work all the time, and I also understand that it is not very easy to give up a career that you have worked on for a long time. That's the choice that I have made - my career is important to me, but of course, my baby is more important. So if my baby is down ill and puking, no one can expect me to turn up at work. It is probably not the ideal choice, but it works and you can do without a break in your career. So I have done a volte-face on this one and am shamelessly going down the same path that I once scoffed at.

2) I have this unstoppable urge to finish quickly and completely the task-at-hand, and then move on to the next, and then the next. My favorite way of tackling things is to have a long list at hand and strike the points off, one by one. I haven't been able to let go of this OCD completely, but DD has taught me to pause, take a deep breath and savour the moment. The best time of my day now is the few minutes of quiet that I enjoy when DD and I have just woken up. She mostly wakes me up with a 'good morning' followed by a cuddle, and then off we go to the balcony where we sit and watch the birds for a good 10 mts. Not speaking much, just relishing the breeze and the birds and the silence of the morning. I know there is coffee to be made, the clothes to be put in the washing machine and the shopping list to be prepared - but they are brushed aside. This time together, feeling the warmth of her little body on my lap, her tiny hands in mine, is invaluable and it is relished without any worries of the daunting day that lies ahead. This and other acts of stop-and-relish, which she has taught me, are my baby steps towards being a more relaxed individual.

3) I believe in planning things down to the last detail and even making allowances for unplanned happenings. Sometimes I can be quite irritating (ask DH, because he is just the opposite) by the extent of planning that I do, even for weekends. And I used to take pride in my planning abilities, my skills in cramming more tasks onto my over-full weekend and become mad if things did not go as planned. From the time she arrived, DD taught me over many sittings that plans are well and fine, but if things are not meant to happen, they will not. As I was left rescheduling my plans many a weekend, rules mostly by DD's hunger, sleep (or lack of it), and moods, I learnt the big truth that "Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans". This hasn't stopped me from planning, but at least I don't raise hell if my plans go awry. I take it with a deep sigh and move on :-)

4) Patience, patience, patience. I cannot tell you how much of this I have learnt in the last 2 years. And this learning makes me realize HOW VERY deficient I was in this area. Having said this, I know I still have a long way to go. Patience is:
- What helps me count from 1 to 20 before speaking/acting, when DD, in spite of innumerable prior warnings, has taken a CD out of the CD-wallet and thrown it into the waste bin, in the split second when I was getting some water to drink
- What makes me bite my tongue in refrain, when the nanny walks in 20 mts late on a morning, when I have specifically requested her to come on time since I have a meeting. (of course, the strength of patience is supported by a quick Cost benefit analysis that tells me that the potential damage due to opening my mouth at this instant is more than that already caused by my being late to the meeting)
- What makes me hum a tune to myself in a dangerously quivering voice when I find that DH has disappeared into the bathroom just when I need him to take care of DD for a while

5) Any shooping trip or trip to the mall now involves more time spent in toy shops and toddler-wear shops than anything else. I seem to derive great pleasure in spending fortunes on the said shops, while my own shopping lies neglected (well, comparitively)

6) Once upon a time, I had valued the quality of conversations I had with my friends. Now, if I talk to a friend who happens to be a mommy herself (or daddy), the conversations revolve around tantrums, play-school, eating, TV habits and finally get down to the more gory details like potty.

7) Speaking of which, my tolearance towards messiness has increased manifold in the last 2 years. I, who used to resist touching anything gooey/messy, can now handle puke, poop, snot (Sorry, but really!) on my hair or dress or anything worse.

And there is more.. But I will stop before you resolve never again to visit my blog.

Of tantrums and coconuts

2007-08-26T22:34:00.000+05:30

I am getting to know the meaning of the phrase "Terrible Twos". The past few weeks, DD's energies seem to be focussed on testing her limits and our patience, throwing tantrums at the drop of a hat, and then whining and protesting when she is chided or admonished for her doings. Into her second month in playschool, she has been picking up infections quite often these days. She has a runny nose most of the time and has had a severe throat infection and an ear infection over the past 2 months. Her pediatrician assures me that all kids go through this phase till their immunity kicks in. So initially, when she started throwing tantrums and was crying/scowling for small things, I thought it was because of her poor health. It took me a while to realize that this is the TT (Terrible Twos/ Terrible Tantrums) that has arrived with a bang. All the internet time spent on Dr.Spock and Babycenter did not prepare me enough for this.

The tantrums can erupt any time and come without warning. When I bring DD out of the bath, she is all smiling and giggly. She even kisses me lovingly on my cheek and I am thanking God for such a wonderful child. And then, when I try to put her dress on, she suddenly decides that she doesn't want to wear it. So off she goes, flitting around the entire place, running away from me with evil glee on her face. I let her do this for some time, but ultimately, I am an old-fashioned mom and I decide that she needs to wear something. So I catch hold of her and then... all hell breaks loose. She thrashes her arms and legs about and bawls her lungs out. That, with a look on her face that asks "How could you be so undemocratic and use brute-force on me?"

This is okay, but there are some times when DD demands something totally unacceptable. She has this habit of trying to use her kerchief (which we of course use to wipe her runny nose) to pretend-clean the furniture. Detour: I can hear some of you saying "Awwww.. do you need to actually give us the gory details?". All I can say is that you kind of become desensitized to such stuff when you have and raise kids. If your kids haven't done anything like this, sing Hallelujah and praise the lord, for it is indeed a miracle. End of detour.

Having read enough child-rearing stuff, I brightly pull out a different cloth and hand it to DD, saying "You can use this cloth to clean the furniture, please give the kerchief back to Amma". She takes the new one, and I beam with motherly pride at DH. And then as I try to take the kerchief from her hand, a pierce and deafening shrill emanates from her as she refuses to let go of it. The look on her face this time is "O so you were actually trying to cheat on me, how could you?". I feel rage simmering inside me and the only decision I need to make is whether to direct it to DD or to DH, who is rolling on the floor laughing.

The latest thing that DD enjoys is throwing stuff out of our balcony. There are small openings in the wall through which she can throw fairly large objects. These objects would, most of the times, be retrieved by her nanny from the garden below. I have explained to her about a 100 times so far that she shouldn't be doing this, without any effect whatsoever. So this Sunday, she threw a cup out of the balcony, I totally lost my cool. I told her that since she had been disobeying me, I would punish her. And I left her in a room and closed the door from outside. Now, before you shout at me, I was sure that she wouldn't get herself in danger and I was planning for this punishment to last only a minute or two, depending on her reaction. Predictably, DD howled and wailed and knocked at the door, trying to twist the knob open. I was standing just outside the door, holding the knob, and feeling most wretched. A minute (oh I really think it was only 40 seconds) later, I opened the door.

DD came to me, tears streaming down her face, and I told her again that what she did was not right. And I also asked her to say "Sorry". "Sorrreeee" she said, tears starting to flow again. And then says in a confused voice, "Ummachhikku thengaa pottu" (I was giving coconuts to the God). I couldn't move for a few seconds. We often take DD to the temple and a few weeks back, she had witnessed DH offering coconuts to Lord Ganesha, which is done by hurling the coconuts down on to a stone pit. And her little brain had picked it up, imagined a lot of objects to be coconuts, and they were hurled down from the balcony in offering to Ganesha. And I had punished her for that!!! I told her that coconuts are to be offered only in temples or something of that sort. I don't remember what I said, I only remember that I hugged her and was crying silently. What a roller coaster ride motherhood is.

Gender Matters

2007-08-02T16:23:00.000+05:30

I have wanted to post on this issue for a long time, but never got down to it. This is something many of you may not agree with. Feel free to make your comments, but I had to say what I felt.

Living in Chennai, where we are sweltering in heat for 9 out of 12 months, I ensure that DD wears only airy, cotton clothes. And I don't believe in the girls-wear-pink-frocks-with-satin-bows theory. So I go for all colors, and all sorts of clothes - by which I mean that she wears trousers, pyjamas, shorts, Capri's, frocks, skirts and whatever else there is. Whenever I take her to the park or for open door activity, I make sure she is wearing shorts or capri's, more for convenience. Because a frock or skirt is more restrictive of movements and I don't want her to be hindered by her dress. And DD also has this short summer crop, which, combined with her attire, makes her look like a little boy.

So most people whom we meet at the park or the roads say "Oh, look at that little boy.." to their kid(s). Initially I used to feel upset, but now I have gotten so used to it that I give them a hearty grin and point out that I have a girl. I even add cheekily "See, her ears are pierced". While some of them just carry on with the conversation, there are a few that trail off saying "Oh she was wearing shorts, so I thought...".

But nothing can beat the remarks made by this neighbor of mine. She seemed to be a friendly lady and we had always been nice to each other. One day, she asks me in a conspiratorial whisper "Do you dress your daughter in shorts, because you always wanted a son?" I was so angry I didn't trust myself to open my mouth. Thankfully DD was perched on my arms, or I might have slapped her.

Now, is this something to do with Chennai, with its so-called conservative outlook? I don't know. I see quite a few girls (school-going and college) wearing shorts. But when I go shopping for DD, I have to go to the "boys section" to pick up shorts ! In fact, I have seen very little gender-neutral clothes at this age, where actually there is plenty of scope for such. Does that mean it is okay to wear shorts only after you grow up, when people can figure out your gender?

Years ago, I went to a toy store and told the guy that I needed to buy a gift for a 2 year old. "Boy or Girl?" he asked. At that point, I didn't think much about it. But now I get irritated when I think of it. Oh yeah.. we need to get dressed-up Barbie dolls and kitchen-sets for girls, and nice shining cars for the boys. Why do we need to start the stereotyping so young? Let the kids wear what is comfortable, and play with toys that are sensible. DD continues to wear shorts and whatever toys DH & I have got her are all gender-neutral. She has a couple of dolls that were gifted by others, and at this age, she seems no more interested in her dolls than in any other toy. If, at a later age, due to peer-influence, she wants to wear frilly frocks and play with Barbies, I am fine with that. But I don't want to try and force her into the gender mould.

Many many languages

2007-07-25T09:50:00.000+05:30

We have decided to bring up DD to be bilingual at home. So I speak to her in Tamil, and DH speaks to her in Malayalam, our respective mother tongues. Since I know Malayalam well, I also try to repeat whatever I tell her in Malayalam. As a result, she has picked up a bit of both, although she speaks mostly in Tamil, with snippets of Malayalam thrown in. I sometimes wonder if she will end up being confused about the 2 languages - but I know quite a few bilingually-raised children who speak both languages fluently by age 4. So I reasoned to myself that she will be fine. Now that DD has started day-care, she is being exposed to English. And is picking up quite a few words and phrases from there. Little did I know how muddled DD's mind was, till this happened:

Me : Enna cartoon pakkare? (Which cartoon are you watching)
DD : "Many many Noddies" (This being the title of the Noddy cartoon she was watching)

The next day, we were watching flowers in our small garden below. And in an attempt to boost DD's mathematical skills, I ask her "Chinnu, evvlavu poo irukku, count pannu" (Can you count the number of flowers? "Poo" meaning flower in Tamil & Mal). Pat came the reply: "Many many poo-s". I was dumbstruck and then almost broke my sides laughing.

Well, if more than one Noddy is termed "Noddies", DD had assumed logically that more than one "poo" is "poo-s". I comforted myself thinking that her languages may be a bit muddled, but her logic and reasoning were working quite fine.

Wicked Maniac

2007-07-20T21:28:00.000+05:30

Potter-mania has gripped me. Tomorrow is the D-Day. Yes, I have pre-ordered the book. Just dying to lay my hands on it. But my problem begins after that. How am I to find time to read it? DD normally clamors for every minute of attention whenever I am around, and it's going to be very difficult for me to sit and read peacefully for even 30 mts.

And that's what I have been wickedly plotting about. On how I will distract DD to other things and find time to read. Her nanny is off this Sunday and I am thinking of taking her to an enclosed childrens' play area for a few hours - all because I am salivating over that uninterrupted time to read the Deathly Hallows. Another wicked thought that flashed through my mind was to pretend illness on Sunday so that I can get DH to take over DD for the whole day! Of course, I know he is gonna see right thru it and so, this plan doesn't work at all. As a last ditch effort, I have even got DD a new book and a new Barney DVD, and kept them away for the weekend.
And if all these plans fail, I will have to stay up all night to read the book.

Signs

2007-07-18T21:19:00.000+05:30

There are some signs that you choose to ignore, because you don't want to see them. This was one such. I knew I had them, I saw them every single day and yet chose to ignore them. Well, I couldn't wish them or worry them away, so I didn't bother.

Until the other day, when I walked into the beauty parlour to get my eyebrows done, and the young, enthusiastic girl who was doing it poses the question: "Ma'm, how about coloring your hair?". I might not have looked very receptive, so she adds "Not a lot, you know, we can just do streaks for you, enough to cover the strands of grey". I remember mumbling something inaudibly about trying it the next time around.

So it's official and people have started noticing it! Beyond age 30, most of the world, or at least most of the world on the other side of 30, looks at you as if you are a triceratops that somehow lived too long. Mad Momma had done a post on a list of things to do before 30. Great list, but aahhh,.. it was a brutal reminder of the 30-divide. And now, this incident to add insult to injury.

I only hope i don't grey so fast that when I drop DD at school, her friends ask "Why does your grandma drop you always - where's your mom?"

Working from home

2007-07-13T13:55:00.000+05:30

The last couple of weeks, I have started working from home partly. On most days, I get back from office by 3 PM or so, and then continue working from home for the next 2-3 hours. I also try to work from home fully for 1 or 2 days a week. Until this, I never gave a thought to the complexities of working from home. Now as I have started doing it, I realize how tough it is. Some of the key pain-points I had:

- Settling down and Ergonomics: We have a PC and an office chair, but it is not a very comfortable to be in for long periods. The fact that I use my laptop at home (all data related to work being in it) is more of a discomfort, since I have to displace the desktop monitor, arrange my lappie and dock all the stuff in. I know this sounds like I am ultra-lazy, but I really don't fancy doing this everyday.

- Phone: I got into a teleconference with a huge team.. and didn't realize how much noise my fan was making, until someone in the call asked "What is that background noise? Is someone outside?". I sheepishly said it was my fan and switched it off. Even the A/C makes considerable noise, and sometimes the rain that patters down on the a/c unit on our window is such a nuisance. I realized that I certainly need a telephone instrument with a "mute" button. The background noise will still come thru when I have to talk, but at least I can mute it off otherwise.

- Answering the door-bell: People tend to assume that because you are home, and back from work, you are free. So initially I ended up answering the doorbell to this neighbour who came for a friendly chat, the apartment security who came to report on something and the ironing lady who came to collect clothes. DD's nanny would invariably be doing something with her and I found myself answering the door quite often. I have come to realize that this will not work at all. So I tell the nanny to assume that I am not around, lock myself in the room, and have curbed my tendency to poke my head out every time the door bell rings.

- DD's expectations: She is not used to me working from home. Previously, when I was working full day, whenever she saw me walking in from work, she knew it was "Amma time", in which she would monopolize me and shoo away (or scream/yell away) anyone who as much as tried to come near me. MIL bore the brunt of this most of the time - she would typically try to explain some of the day's happenings to me as soon as I came back. DD would scream and yell at her grandmother for stealing her air-time. I would politely pretend to listen to her, since my attention would also be fully on DD. Well, I am digressing - So, now when I come back home, DD still expects it to be "Amma time". And I just don't have the heart to disappoint her. So I give in for 30 mts, then divert her onto some activity, and slither away to work when she is busy. So far she has not protested and has been quite nice about it.

-Perceptions: Somehow, working from home gives people the impression that one doesn't have all that much to do. And I hate this perception. DH is in the same industry and knows very well that it is tough to work from home. Even so, one morning, he says " Hey I need this after-shave, missed buying it last weekend. Can you do me a favor - you get home early anyway, could you buy this for me?". I pounced on him and gave him a huge lecture on how people assume that "work from home" means "no work" - suffice to say that the poor man now thinks twice before he makes a statement about me being "at home".
It is totally a different matter that I found time to stop by Health&Glow on the way home and buy a shampoo for DD and some knick-knacks for myself the next day - hee hee - Point is that DD cannot make assumptions that I am jobless because I bought her a shampoo.

So if any one of you still thinks that work from home is easy, and fun, know that you are horribly wrong. It is definitely advantageous in a situation like mine, where you want to be physically present at home. But if you are a control-freak like me, it is so hard to be physically present in one place and not respond to the stimuli around you. And it takes some practice and patience to be able to function at the same productivity from home.

A game of chess

2007-07-12T14:10:00.000+05:30

DD engrossed in a game of chess :-) From our vacation in Munnar

Where has my little baby gone?

2007-07-12T11:12:00.001+05:30

I have been going through a surge of emotions these last 2 weeks, often swinging wildly from one end of the spectrum to another, so much so that DH thinks that I am finally losing it. And I think I agree with him this time.

The whole turmoil started in early June, when I started sending DD to a play-school. I know that most people consider 1 year 10 months too early to start a kid even on playschool, but considering that my MIL was going back to Kerala, and the fact that I could not digest the idea of leaving DD alone with her nanny all day long, this was the best I could do. So, after agonizing for many days and nights and contemplating leaving my job (for the zillionth time since DD was born), I decided to (a) send her to play school for a few hours every morning and (b) move to a lighter role at work, something that would allow me to get back home by 3-4 PM and continue working from home. This way, I planned that DD would be alone with her nanny for a window of only 4 hrs, of which she would be napping for 2 hrs.

After filtering through half a dozen schools in our neighbourbood, I had narrowed down to 2 schools. One was a play school running out of a house, had a small play area with sand, slide, caged rabbits et al for the kids. But the insides of the school were a bit weary with age, not so bright. But I was okay with the teachers that I met. Now this school's philosophy was that any kid below age 2 should be accompanied by a parent or nanny during the session. Initially this did not sound like a big problem to me, since the nanny could anyway be with DD.
The second place was even closer home - actually on the same street as the first one, both being 5 mts walk from my home, one of my first criteria during the filtering. This one was a full time day-care that provided half-day options. The curriculum was U.S based and the entire place was done up very bright and in cheerful colors. It was centrally air-conditioned and very clean, provided CCTV and promised to make live feeds from school available on the web - a la US style. The only thing I felt it lacked was a bit of open space for the kids. The other thing I viewed with mild inhibition was the fact that this day-care insisted on providing its own snacks and food for the kids.

And so after long debates and discussion,most of which involved me talking animatedly on the pros and cons and DH nodding silently and thoughtfully with his cuppa chai (so much so that I felt the debate and discussion was actually with myself), we decided (he finally opened his mouth and gave his view) that the first school had an edge over the second because of the open play area and because they have been around for a longer time and have the experience. So what if the nanny had to accompany DD for 2 months?

And so we started. On the first day, I went with DD and sat with her through the session, which was short and sweet, conducted by the head of the school - a very seasoned, experienced lady who sang and danced with the kids. From Day 2, the other kids were on their own while DD continued to be accompanied by me or her nanny, since she was the only one below 2 years in the group. The days that I went in, I found, much to my disappointment, that the teachers that handled this group were not the ones I had originally met!! I was completely shocked - these teachers had a language/diction problem, could not handle the crying children well and totally lacked the ability to hold the kids' attention. To explain what I mean, whenever I sing a song to DD, I sing it in a loud voice, with a lot of expression and action - and she stares at me, trying to absorb it all. Children love exaggeration and need to see a lot of action/expression to hold their interest. The teachers in DD's class would start singing "Old Mc Donald" in a whisper, with an expression that one has at a funeral - and whatever little attempts they were making at singing, would promptly be drowned in some unsettled kid's tears. DD would sit glued to me or her nanny, and refuse to get off our lap.

At first I thought this would change with time, but as weeks rolled by, and DD started even resenting the word school, I realized that this will not get us anywhere. To add to the complications, MIL had already left. I had taken a month off from work, anticipating that DD would take that much time to settle in school.. and now was soon running out of that time.

3 weeks into the school, I decided one day that this was not working. I had to take a chance and try putting her in the second school cum day-care that I had considered. That was the only option I had, apart from giving up my job and staying home with her. Well, the nanny was great with her and she too loved her nanny, and many friends pointed out to me that I could leave her with the nanny, but to me, that was ruled out - for a few hours, yes, but not for the whole day when I was at work, close to 9 hrs. You could ask me what difference it makes - but I guess it is in the mind, and my mind concocted all kinds of stupid images. And so, the decision was made to shift her to the new school. At least I thought, it looked more bright and cheery inside.

We went on a week's vacation to Munnar in June end. I really needed a vacation, and thoroughly enjoyed it, but well, that is fodder for another post. To come back to this, DD started going to the new place after we came back. The first day, when I left her inside, she cried. And I had to come out, since this place insisted that kids will cry the first few days and that they will take manage the kids. They would call the parent only if the kid got into uncontrollable crying or wheezing. I felt a tear rolling down my cheek as I went out - it was so damn difficult to let go. I felt I was the most wicked parent in the whole world, leaving my baby to cry in a strange place, with strange people. I sat waiting for the clock to tick away and ran back to pick her up after 2 hrs. She came out smiling, but told me she had cried in school (yes, she definitely knows how to make me feel guilty). Day 2 was better than day 1 - I had expected her to protest loudly and cry on day2, since she knew from the Day1 experience that she was going to be left alone. But she only whimpered a bit as she was taken over by her teacher. DD continued to get better each day, and today, when DH dropped her at school, she actually turned back, gave him a sunny smile and walked away into the play-room. He came and reported this to me, and I felt a barrage of conflicting emotions - can you feel happy and sad at the same time? I felt just that.

Happy that she had settled down comfortably- something I had prayed so much for. Sad because in a way, she has grown up. She was not my clingy baby anymore.. I could suddenly visualize her growing up, passing many years and stages and leaving us with a smile, to build a life of her own. I remarked so to to DH, half-expecting him to say that I was mad, but he calmly said " Yes, she will. And why are you feeling sad for that?". It wasn't me wallowing in sadness, but some part of me missed the loss of innocence that came with her growing up. Some really selfish part of me that wanted to enjoy that innocence that is portrayed in her deeds like biting my nose (yes, she does.. and proudly says "amma mookku kadichu"). If growing up is about making her own decisions, then also I think she has taken the first big step - by going to the school of her choice, rather than ours!

I'm alive..

2007-07-05T21:46:00.000+05:30

I haven't posted anything for more than 2 months now. There were so many changes going on in my life and I was trying my best to cope with all of them. It was not that I did not have time, but I just did not have the energy to write.

I am quite sure that the few people who used to visit my blog, would have stopped long before. I almost felt tempted to stop writing for good.. But then something inside me kept nudging me to write.

To list some of the changes in the past 2 months:

- I had a change in my workplace, moving out of one project to another
- My MIL, who has been helping me out with DD the past 9 months, went back to Kerala
- DD started play-school
- I started exploring part-time/flexi-working options to manage work & DD

If anyone happens to read this post, I hope they would understand how stressful the combination of the above changes would have been. In any case, I have managed to survive these changes.. and thrive. Will write more about the details in further posts.

To mention the happier moments, we went on a week's vacation to Munnar. It was the PERFECT getaway. It was also our first vacation as a family - DH, DD and myself. And I came back feeling fresher than I have in the past few months.

Dis-Tress

2007-04-25T12:52:00.000+05:30

I was distraught and sensed myself to be in the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had no clue how to handle this situation. My heart was thumping loud, my palms sweaty, and my poor addled brain was sending distress signals in as many ways as it could. DD was screaming loudly and trying to kick herself free. Tears were streaming down her soft cheeks. My heart was almost breaking and I decided I couldn’t watch this anymore. I held DD close to myself, in an attempt to assure her that I am with her through this. That only made her more miserable – she looked at me with pleading eyes as if to ask me how I could be so unconcerned at her agony. Would she ever trust me again? A sudden thought came to my mind – I could pick her up and try to run away from this place now. It may not be easy, but I could try. And then I thought of the consequences – and I resigned myself to sitting here. Both DD and I had to live through this. There was no way out – no escape.

Ten minutes later, I got off the chair, holding my whimpering daughter close to my chest. My knees felt weak with relief. All this while, I was so angry with this man and now, when I looked at him, I felt sorry for him. The poor guy gave me a weak smile – he looked like he had been hit by a truck. For the amount of pressure that he had been subjected to, he had done an admirably good job. Small, soft, dark tresses lay scattered all around the chair and some of it was stuck on my clothes too. I felt too tired even to shake them off – I was so embarrassed now that I just wanted to get out. I quickly thanked the guy and walked off to the counter to pay the bill for my daughter’s first hair-cut.

Being "Secretary"

2007-04-09T17:03:00.000+05:30

Almost 2 years back, DH and I moved in to our newly built apartment, still smelling fresh of cement, paint and varnish. We were kind of proud of our nest, for it had been a one-year project for us that dominated most of our discussions and almost all our weekends. I was into the third trimester of pregnancy when we finally moved into the place, in spite of neighbors and friends cautioning us not to move houses during pregnancy (based on local popular belief that it is not good for the mom and baby). We were very sure we wanted to move, because of many reasons including space and the difficulty in moving post-baby (eeksss.. can’t imagine it) but the most important reason was that we wanted our little one to come home to this place from hospital.

The week before we moved in, we attended the meeting to form our building’s residents association, convened by our builder. When we went, we didn’t expect it to be anything more than a get-together. We had seen and heard of many apartment associations with bitter in-fights and wrangling over operational issues and water shortage solutions. Some of these battle tales would be enough to put Indian tribes to shame. But our new building had only 7 apartments, and we thought things should be pretty smooth. And they were, I should say, a bit too smooth for good. When we went into the meeting, an animated debate was on and we could sense heat in the air. The builder was trying to have a President, a Secretary and a treasurer elected for the building… and no one wanted to take any of these posts. Each owner was listing out the top 10 reasons why he or she could not take up the post.

4 of the owners said they were going to let out their apartments, and hence could not do much because of their physical absence. That seemed genuine, although that was also debated on. The other 2 also explained to all of us why they could not take anything up. DH quickly gave me an accusing glare – I had pulled him out of a Sunday afternoon nap into this! When it came to our turn, we explained our situation - A working couple, expecting a baby in 2 months. How could anyone dream of us taking up something?

But the Gods were not so merciful. All that the builder wanted to do was to form the association and wash his hands off. So the discussion went on and on.. until we (THEY) decided that the 3 families of owners who will continue to reside in the apartment, should take up the 3 posts. Apartment 7’s owner, being an elderly lady, jumped on to the President’s post, as that is the least demanding of the three. Apt 5 (working lady, with 2 kids and husband in the US) and Apt 6 (yours truly) looked at each other. She had despair in her eyes and said she was okay for either post, thereby giving me the choice (Ha ha!). We had lost a lot of peace and a neat amount of our own money when DH was the “Treasurer” of our previous building. Fresh from that memory, we decided we would take up the “Secretary” post. When we were asked whose name to put in, DH innocently volunteered my name since the President and Treasurer were ladies too. He's a Houdini when it comes to things like this.

And so I started my term as Secretary of the building. It was after we moved in that I realized the complexity of life as the Secretary. The Secretary was the jack-of-all-trades for the building, always expected to be on-call for crisis, complaints and general cribs. I, who have a tough time maintaining my personal documents, had to take charge of and maintain the building’s key documents including all those pertaining to the stand-by generator and intercom. My intercom would ring day in and day out – once it would be the security agency wanting to see me, another time it would be the corporation guy calling to collect tax. And then the apartment’s cleaning lady would show up at my door to complain that she was underpaid. I managed all this for a while since I was on maternity leave, waiting for my baby to be born.

And then, 5 days after due-date, after I had answered umpteen phone calls from friends and relatives calling to find out if I had gone to hospital, DD made her entry into this world. During the first few days of parenthood, I was struggling to get into some kind of routine and mainly, get some sleep in between her endless feed and nappy times. I would spend an hour crooning to DD, putting her to sleep, and heave a sigh of relief and lie down beside her. Exactly 5 mts later, when I would have just started sailing into dream world, the intercom would ring and the watchman would announce that there was no water in the sump and we would need to order water from outside. The ringing of the intercom would invariably wake DD up, leaving me fuming with anger and helplessness. To cut the long story short, I had some highly stressful moments that even made me rue the day we decided to move into our apartment.

Things have become better in the last 1.5 years. One of myTreasurer's employees (she runs her consulting firm) doubles up as the “Manager” for our building. I only need to provide the guidance. The initial teething problems of the building have also reduced. I still have strange issues to deal with, like this one. (Detour warning)

The Treasurer lady’s son has this penchant for rare pets. One day he decided he wanted to have a hen for a pet. And he brought in this beautiful spotted hen and let it romp around in the landscaped lawn and garden in our apartment’s common area. You can imagine the amount of furore it caused. There were murmurs and complaints from all over the place and I dutifully passed them on to the Treasurer, looking as objective and impersonal as I could. She said she did not have the courage to break her son’s heart. So I let the matter rest for a while. A few days later, things reached melting point when the restless hen clawed away at another neighbour’s new Toyota Corolla, resulting in visible scratches. The owner of the car was screaming murder (understandably) – the Treasurer saw sense and decided to deport the offending fowl to Pondicherry, her native place. She also agreed to compensate the damage to the car. Peace prevailed.

Many a time, the pressure of being a working mom with a toddler, and the additional burden of secretary-ship of a building gets to me. But one thing I cannot dispute is that this role has provided me with a perspective that I don’t get as part of my normal work or life. Just like being a parent has taught me so many things, including patience and humility. Many experiences that I would not have had and people I would not have met came my way – the fuming tenant unhappy with the money paid on building maintenance, the slimy-looking corporation tax-inspector expecting bribe, the inebriated owner of a security agency promising excellent services, and most of the residents who do not even bother to enquire, as long as everything is fine. Stuck that I am with this, I am now consoling myself saying that this is a way to connect to the real world and learn a thing or two from there :-)

These are a few of my favorite things

2007-04-02T11:13:00.000+05:30

Recently, I spent 10 days at my hometown, Trivandrum (Kerala), with my father who was recovering from a sudden illness. And then I realized that in the last decade or so, this was the first time I was there for 10 days at a strerch! The city had changed, but then the changes were not so drastic or jerky to make me feel out of place. The “spirit” of the place remains untouched, for better and for worse. Although Trivandrum is officially a “city”, when I compare it to Chennai, I still feel very much that it is a big town. The roads that used to appear normal-sized 10 years back, now appear to be small by-lanes to me.

My absence has also endeared me to certain aspects of the place, which I hold close to my heart and sorely miss in Chennai.

- I’ll begin with the obvious - the climate. The summer in Trivandrum lasts for 2-3 months. The remaining part of the year is real “cool” in all senses. And the air feels fresher and cleaner as you breathe it in.

-The water – absolutely wonderful, sweet-tasting water and an abundant supply of it (as of today, but soon this state of affairs might be obsolete). The greenery – soothing to the eye and the mind

- Playing “pallankuzhi” (I have no clue what this translates to in English – it is an ancient game, similar to a board game) and having nice little chats with my “thathi” (Paternal grandmother) where she would update me on all the “agraharam” gossip and more. Thathi is this virtual database, who knows all details and family history of most of the local population, including the date, month and star under which they were born. She never fails to amaze me with her memory. What is interesting is that whenever she narrates a recent event in any family, she also provides a historical perspective and analysis – she is almost like NDTV 24 X 7 that way:-)

- The small establishments inside Trivandrum’s Fort area, which sell yummy home-made delicacies at a very affordable rate. If I could, I would bring that entire stretch of "Puthen Street" and other “mamis” to Chennai. Chennai does have its share of these, but nothing will compare to the “sevai and puliseri”, "veppila-katti" and other such typical Palakkad/Kerala stuff these mamis dish out

- The lovely mix of Malayalam and Tamil that is spoken in and around my place. Actually it is neither pure Tamil (what on earth is that?), nor Malayalam, but that hybrid is my mother tongue – the language I think in. It is so musical (ok..ok… I am biased and unashamedly so) and I can smell traces of it even in parts per million ratio. For example, I was once looking for a place to rent in Chennai and a broker took me to this elderly gentleman who had an apartment to rent. The moment that person started speaking (in English, mind you), I knew that he was a one of my kind – a Tamil Brahmin who had some Kerala connection. At the end of the visit, I asked him about this and he said that although he had not been there for the last 30 years, his mother’s roots were in Kerala. I am kind of proud of this ability of mine to sniff it out :-)

-The ubiquitous “bakeries” that sell hot puffs, cutlets, fresh baked bread and what not. I remember visiting my mother’s office in Statue Junction during vacations and going out with her to Santha Bakery for evening snacks. I can still feel the freshness of the butter buns and coconut pastry she used to get me. Chennai doesn’t have so much of bakeries and the quality is also sadly missing

- When I was a teenager, a shopping expedition meant a trip to the local “fancy store”. Some of these fancy stores would stock up all the accessories and trinkets a girl could ever dream of – matching clips, lip color, eye liners and what not. We girls used to enter these stores as a bevy and give the poor sales guy a tough time – and in the end, buy one teeny-weeny hairclip, and then haggle for it!. When I first landed in Chennai, I was actually searching for “Fancy stores” for the first few months. Yes, Chennai has high-end cosmetic chains like “Health and Glow” but I can’t tell you how I miss the fancy stores. It’s the difference between the mom-and-pop grocery stores and Walmart :-)

-The sheer aesthetics and craftsmanship of the buildings (houses) and the woodwork – even if you look at apartment complexes, the kind of finish that I see back home is totally missing in Chennai. As for the carpentry work, nothing I have seen in Chennai, branded or otherwise, can come close to some of the regular and not-so-expensive stuff done by the local carpenters in Kerala. It puzzles me, actually!

- Temples in Kerala, the cleanliness and the piety in the atmosphere. Most of these temples have their strict routines in terms of pujas and abhishekams, the rigour of which added to the aura of the temple. I feel that the discipline in these temples emphasises the godliness and enhances the experience of the devotee who goes to the temple. I don't know of temples in Kerala that have separate queues based on how much money one can pay to see the God - And having been brought up there, I still cannot accept this practice.

Having said all this, there are also a few peeves and pet-hates that I have about Trivandrum. But I think that should go into a separate post some other day since I don’t want to spoil the sweetness of this one.

A day to remember

2007-03-12T17:21:00.000+05:30

Last Thursday was Womens' day. When I was growing up, I had never heard of Womens' day, probably because it was never in the news then. But I do hope that "Womens' day" turns out to be more than just a day to arrange events and have song and dance programmes. Beyond these celebrations, what is the state and significance of a woman in today's world?

The feminine is often associated with gentleness, peace, kindness and everything that is calm and comforting. How many times do we associate women with strength and perseverance, strong will and courage? Historically, from the right to education to voting rights,the right to choose their partner to the right to inherit property, everything has come to women at the end of a struggle. Including a wife's right to live after her husband's death, and her right to remarry, it has all been a fight to come out of the shackles of "society", whose rules are largely laid down by men. True - there have been a few regions/matriarchal societies where there was more focus and respect on women, but for the larger part, the world was and still is "a man's world". And women have waged many battles and continue to do so in this world.

In many parts of the world, having a male child, who supposedly carries the lineage forward, still matters a lot. India and many Asian countries still prevent prospective parents from knowing the baby's gender as a measure to prevent female foeticide. Female infanticide is prevalent in many nations across the world. Crimes against women are on the rise, so much so that one almost shudders to look at the news. Even babies and girls are not spared. Man is supposedly differentiated from animals because of his "free will" and "ability to think - these men are no different from animals, probably worse off. This is womens' most basic battle - for SURVIVAL and SECURITY.

There are so many poor women who work hard for their living - they support their drunkard husbands and their children with their income. And still continue to remain married, either because they have been taught to live with problems or because they feel their marital status protects them from abuse from other men. In the latter scenario, they choose the lesser evil - abuse by the drunken husband. Most of them put on a brave face and never look like they have problems - some of them have their own support systems and networks in the form of other women who go through similar issues. This is the battle for SELF-RESPECT and DIGNITY.

One would imagine that all these are problems of the poor and the uneducated. But the roots of the gender bias run quite deep. It is sometimes covered by education and "culture" and notions of gender-equality.Based on the economic stature and the level of development, there is only a difference in manner in which the bias manifests itself. But it does rear its ugly face everywhere. A number of middle-class working women have no control over their income. Working women are faced with the enormous pressure of managing their careers and their families - most of them get little or no help from their spouses. To give up their career would mean giving up all that they have worked for. So these women bear the cross and do all it takes to keep home and work going. Hold on - you might say, the situation is largely better in developed countries in the West. But then, some of the most developed cultures, I feel, have the most medieval ways of looking at a woman. Hilary Clinton's recent statement that one of the downsides of being a woman is that her hairstyle could get discussed more prominently than her policies, is the most powerful example of this "subtle" degradation in Western cultures. Here, women are waging the battle for EQUALITY in a true sense.

Womens' day is probably the day to look at all of this and much more that women grapple with in their everyday battles at all these levels. It is a time for the women to look at themselves, and pause awhile to bask in the glory of what they have achieved in the face of adversity. It is also the time for men to look at the women in their life, and thank them for all their contributions to enriching their lives.

My best friends

2007-02-28T12:56:00.000+05:30

I am the only child of my parents - in this sense, I belong to a rare species, at least as far as India is concerned, where most families have 2 or 3 kids. When people hear of this for the first time, they often tell me "O, it must have been quite lonely for you, growing up all alone." Looking back at my childhood days, I don't remember going through a distinct feeling of loneliness at any time. There have been times when I have wished for more company to play with, even times when I wished I had a brother or sister, but they were not very strong or recurring feelings. During most of my childhood and adolosence, I was in a world of my own, mostly with my best friends - BOOKS.

I wanted to dedicate this post to these friends and how I have grown up with them, how they have kept me company in happiness and sorrow, been my cheer at times of distress and still occupy an important place in my life.

I was introduced to the mesmerizing world of letters by my uncle, who was a Masters in English Literature and a Professor in a college. I remember he used to buy me a whole lot of childrens' books with illustrations, most of them with Russian names and characters. In those times,Russian books were popular in India and a lot of English books that were available in the market were actually Russian books translated and published in English, probably as a result of the socialist-Russian links of the Nehruvian era. Most of the characters were Misha or Tanya, the former being a popular name. I also remember some non-Russian books he got me - one was of Swashbuckle, the highway robber, who was very fond of eating blueberries and had a beard and face that were full of the berry's stains. I still remember the book for its beautiful illustrations.

And then, as I moved on to Class III and IV, there were the Enid Blytons - the Secret Seven, the Famous Five, Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew. I particularly loved the tomboy "George" (Georgina) in the Famous Five and even tried to emulate her for some period of time. The biggest treasurehouse for that generation was undoubtedly the "Amar Chitra Katha" series by Uncle Pai (Ananth Pai). Looking back, I think we need to salute Uncle Pai's significant contribution to keeping Indian mythology alive in the minds of the youth. Most of the mythology and Indian folklore that I know, is from the Amar Chitra Katha or Tinkle comics. What a rich collection it was! In those days, I remember that I would do almost anything to get hold of a bound collection of Amar Chitra Katha. The Indrajaal comics with superheroes such as Phantom, Mandrake, Bahadur,Flash Gordon and Garth were also favorites. Of these, the Phantom attained cult status with me (as with many contemporaries) and he was my "hero" for all the devilry that he attempted - crossing the "Piranha-filled river suspended on a ropeway",taking on villians single-handedly and living in the skull cave in the jungle amongst the Pygmy Bandar.

By the time I moved on to high school, I had found a group of like-minded friends and discussing books during lunch was the "in-thing" in school. I remember reading the entire collection of "Sherlock Holmes" novels - 2 bound volumes - in a month of vacation. During this time, I bugged my parents and got myself enrolled 2 local libraries. This opened a new world and I started reading Jeffrey Archer, Sidney Sheldon, Ken Follet, Erich Segal and a number of nice British authors. For whatever reason, I also liked Victorian novels and some of the classic English stuff. Jane Austen's Persuasion is a favorite. So were most of Daphne du Maurier's books with "Rebecca" and "The King's General" topping the list. One of our English teachers introduced us to a wonderful writer named Georgette Heyer - she has been often discounted as a "romantic writer". True to some extent, since most of her writing involved romance in the lives of English noblemen. But her language was so refreshing, with wonderful, sarcastic humour chipped in. Reading her books has done a world of good to my vocabulary too. Short stories of O.Henry, Somerset Maugham and a couple of others were also favorites. Sometimes I wish I had written down the names of every single book I read. Because there are some books that I remember vaguely, but do not remember the names. "The Scarlet Pimpernal"by Baroness Orczy, "The Lost Horizon" by James Hilton and "The Citadel" by A.J.Cronin and the all-time-favorite "To Kill a Mocking-bird" by Harper Lee are some of the books I remember reading with a distinct sense of satisfaction.

Although there was a "parent-enforced lean period" in my reading due to board exams and Engineering entrance exam preparation, I still squeezed in a little bit of time to read my favorite stuff, all of which was fiction. I think I chose to ignore the existence of non-fiction till a much later period of my life. The first non-fiction book that I really read cover to cover was "Freedom at Midnight" by Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins - and I really enjoyed it, probably because it told in a near-fiction manner, the story of the events that unfold during the birth of India and Pakistan. That led to another book by the same authors "O Jerusalem". I got into non-fiction then, and still read some of it, but I can never find in it the charm and lure of beautifully woven fiction.

Into adulthood, life took me through rough turns and there was a time when I was wounded, bitter and withdrawn, so much so that I did not want anything to have to do with people. I was outside India and stayed alone - Books were all the comfort and company that I had. They would magically transport me, at least for a few hours, to another world, far away from reality. For a while, my life revolved completely around work and books. Any time outside of work, even when I was on the bus, I would read, almost feverishly. The only other thing I did during that period was listen to music. I remember I did not watch a single movie or TV show for almost 8-9 months. With time - and reading, I should add, I came out of the trough and moved towards being my old self. There are lots of authors and books that I relished during this period. Some of the most memorable experiences are of reading "The God of Small Things" by Arundhati Roy, "Out of Africa" by Karen Blixen and "The Bridges of Madison County" by Robert James Waller. Richard Bach were also wonderful reads during this time. Some of the books have lasting influence - After reading the "Exodus" by Leon Uris, I have always been partial to the cause of Israel and the Jews - I admire their sheer gumption and focus. I turn a blind eye to their faults, but somehow I can't help empathising with their cause.

After I returned to India and got married, my husband once gifted me a book "Ladies Coupe" by Anita Nair, which got me hooked on to Indian English writing. I tried to read as much as possible of Rabindranath Tagore, translated into English. Chitra Divakaruni Banerjee's "Mistress of Spices" was also particularly enjoyable, althought I haven't even tried seeing the movie for fear that it will spoil the story etched in my mind. The fact that DH loved reading also helped. We have spent many a weekend curled up at home with books, both of us enjoying the tranquility.

The last 2 fiction books that I read, and are worth mentioning, are "Harry Potter and the Half blood prince" (Vol 6 of Harry Potter, of which DH and I are avid fans) and "One hundred years of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, which is a lovely and haunting story, beautifully crafted by the author. I finished the latter and a day later, went into labor and had DD. After DD was born, work and home left me with little time & energy for books. The only peaceful time I had was the time I had before retiring for the day, after DD slept. I love fiction too much to read it in time-bound instalments. So these days I read more of non-fiction, which I don't mind breaking up into 30 minute sessions. I am now reading "Collapse" by Jared Diamond, which talks of how ancient civilizations collapsed and is quite interesting. I look forward to the time when DD is older and I can go back to reading fiction :-)

I also hope and dream that DD grows up to love books - not because I want her to be like me or because of the obvious advantages associated with reading, but more because I would like her to savor the experience and allow it to enrich her life in ever so many ways.

Confessions of a resolution-breaker

2007-01-16T21:52:00.000+05:30

For a good part of the last decade, I have embarked on every New Year with "losing weight and getting to shape" as one of my resolutions. New years are born, progress into middle age, grey and lumber into old-age and death, but this resolution of mine has always remained the same - fresh, untouched and young. It resiliently survives every year and gets into the next list for the next year. To be fair to myself, this is the only one that has remained in the list for so long - all the others are either kept or knocked off the list because I know they don't fit into my scheme of things.

I am going to use this post to rant about my inability to stick to this resolution, which continues to haunt. I am sure I will have plenty of empathy from like-minded readers out there. And this post might also be sneered upon by many a fitness-freak. But then that is a risk that one always has while speaking out one's mind.

As I have always affirmed, I love good food - read "fattening food". Most people who know me consider me strong-willed (hubby will vehemently vouch for this). But this so-called strong will trembles like jelly and comes down on its knees at the thought of good food. So when hubby dear suggests we order pizza, I make a feeble attempt at refusal saying "O should we really?" And to give him due brownies in his contribution in making us a rotund couple, he says “Yes" with utmost finality and certainty. My mind, which was trying to do a tight-rope walk on the very thin line of my new year resolution, does a little jig and hums to itself as it loses balance and falls into the abyss. I waste no time in ringing up Pizza Hut and ordering a pizza. When the pizza guy offers a new stuffed-cheese version, I give in and tell myself "Ok - just this once".

I have never been a "sports-loving" type person who loves physical exertion. The rest of this paragraph has a list of excuses that I have for not exercising and staying fit. If you are a fitness freak, please feel free to skip the remaining stretch. In the convent school that I went to, we had 1 sports-hour a week till standard 6, after which age, I assume that the nuns were of the opinion that girls did not need sports. Being an only child, I thrived on books for company during vacations. Well into my adulthood, I found that the lack of interest in physical exertion was not helping me with my resolution at all. I used to walk to and from school daily - which was a good 5 km, and was enough activity for me then. The only activity I still love is walking and I get to do very little of that with my long hours at work and now, a baby at home.

Inertia, inertia, inertia - I stick to my resolution by exercising promptly and keeping tab on my food habits for a week. And then I relax for a day.. And inertia sets in. And I feel almost certainly that my metabolism, which has a mind of its own, is also so used to status-quo that any change in the fat-burning rate is very slow and requires a lot of stimulation. Heredity is not a strong point for me here. There are marked tendencies towards pudginess on both mom's and dad's sides. And it looks like I have inherited the worst from both the gene trees.

And last but not the least, I have to talk about the many friends and well-wishers and sometimes total-strangers who have taken liberties to casually joke about the weight-factor. The first few times this was the butt of jokes, I went beet-red with shame. I made silent promises to myself that I would do something about it. The next few times, I really didn't feel as bad about it as initially. And then within a year or so, I got to a stage where I could joke about it myself. I should say that these people have made a phenomenal contribution in making me mentally "accept" the problem. And as long as I could accept it mentally, I could live with it. I recognize this, but am yet to shake myself off this state.

And so I begin 2007 with this resolution still in my list. This year, I have spent some time thinking of the reasons behind my failure. And now that I have made my confession, I feel a wee bit more equipped to stick to my resolution. Cheer me on, folks :-)

The Tower of Babel

2007-01-13T16:33:00.000+05:30

I love languages. Probably, some of this love stems from the fact that we spoke 2 languages at home, and I was exposed to 2 more languages quite early in life. But 3 of the 4 languages I knew were Indian, and 2 of them South Indian - so obviously they had similarities. My first exposure to a non-Indian language was when I started learning French. It was during this period that I stumbled upon connections between French and Indian languages - and marvelled at the wonder of the links.

A shirt is "chemize" in French, a baggy top is "kameez" in Hindi. Bread is "Pain" (pronounced "paan" without stressing the last "n") in French - And wow, it is "pao" in Hindi. Brother in English is so similar to the Sanskrit "Bhraatha" and the root for "patriarch" and "pitha" must be the same. Lufthansa, the German airlines, literally means "flying bird". "Hamsa" in Sanskrit is a bird - swan. The name for numbers also point a close connection - Septa, the Latin root for 7, which is "Sapta" in Sanskrit - if we start looking, what we find might be just too amazing. I guess most of these connections would have been spoken about and researched by etymologists across the world. My thrill and amazement at these links is proabably more due to the fact that I discovered them through serendipity. But there are certain bizarre similarities - In colloquial Tamil, the "kiddie" word for water is "akkam". I had heard kids saying that all my life, but when my daughter started said that word one of these days, it struck me that it was so close to "aqua", the Latin root for water. Was this a real connection or was this coincidence?

If you look up Wikipidea on the Tower of Babel, it says "According to the narrative in Genesis Chapter 11 of the Bible, the Tower of Babel was a tower built by a united humanity to reach the heavens. God, observing the unity of humanity in the construction, resolves to destroy the tower and confuse the previously uniform language of humanity, thereby preventing any such future efforts." I don't know if this story is for real, but somehow, like a lot of things in mythology, it does seem to make some sense.

If you would like to look at the connections between words in different languages, here is a nice site that discusses the origin of words and how they appear across languages - www.takeourword.com.

New beginnings

2007-01-03T22:36:00.000+05:30

We would all love to start the new year with some joy, cheer and optimism. I apologize if this post is not fitting to the mood of the season. But I found this topic to be more meaningful than all my usual blabber and more representative of new beginnings.

On the first working day of the new year, a colleague of mine had sad news to share - his cousin's 3 year old son had been diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Luekemia (ALL), a form of blood cancer. This is the 2nd time in the last couple of months that I had heard of the disease. Two months back, I had received an email from a colleague, appealing for financial aid for Aditya, a 4 year old kid affected by ALL, whose only hope lay in an expensive Bone Marrow Transplant that could be done only in the U.S. Incidentally, Aditya's mother had also worked for our firm a few years back. He is now undergoing treatment in the U.S. Words cannot describe the suffering that these kids and their parents endure. God help them in their suffering and give them the courage to sail through this. http://adityak02.googlepages.com/latestupdates - This page has updates posted by Aditya's dad on his health. There is also a link through which donations can be made for his treatment.

It is when one hears such things that one realizes the pettiness of whining about the small hicuups faced in life. For a while, let us stop being warped in our problems - Let us pray for the health and long life of these kids and the many many others who die of hunger, malnutrition and disease. Let them have new beginnings and reason for hope and optimism. Let this world be a better place for them this year. Let the buds stand a chance to bloom..

A whiff of fresh air

2006-12-23T10:31:00.000+05:30

I love December - it is the month of festivity and celebration. It's the time to look back on what we have done in the whole year and what we have forgotten to do. It's the time to look forward to a new and better year. But I love this month most because this is my "recharge" time. For the last couple of years, I have become used to taking at least a week's break in December - and I don't use this break for travel or vacation. I use this time to recharge my batteries, allow myself all kinds of luxuries and generally indulge in anything that fancies me. The very fact that I don't have a plan or a schedule or a to-do list, makes me look forward to this break. And this year, the break came when hubby and his mom had to go off for a short trip to settle a few things back in Kerala. My daughter's nanny agreed to stay over with me for the duration, giving me time to do my own stuff. And boy, it was really good.

I rediscovered the simple joy of getting up in the morning and having a nice cup of coffee while reading the newspaper. This was something I took for granted in B.C (Before Child) days, but now I cherished the experience so much. I took my daughter for morning walks in the garden below and we played with pebbles. I read to her, played silly games with her and took her out every single evening. We enjoyed kiddie rides, went to the beach and park, and had a freaking good time. I watched her as she reacted wondrously at new experiences. What a pity that we grow up and lose most of this awe for anything beautiful and new.

During the day, I read books, listened to some of my favourite music, went window-shopping and sometimes just curled up beside my daughter when she slept. I made it a point to forget all pending tasks and anything that came to my notice, I just brushed aside. I didn't even write a post for this blog :-)

At the end of it, I felt a calm energy inside me. The return to routine life was a jolt, but I know that I can have another break next year. And in any case, if I do this daily, it is going to become like the morning cup of coffee that I used to have - no novelty and hence taken for granted.

Wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

A holistic treat for the body, mind and soul

2006-12-11T16:54:00.000+05:30

These days, my life is very eventful. I wake up everyday with a feeling of uncertainty on the new possibilities and risks that I may face during the morning. If I succeed in overcoming these challenges, I get to go to work, where I settle down to relatively unremarkable pursuits. Parenting is always a recurring favorite in my posts and this time, I wanted to rant about how parenting makes you acquire multi-dimensional skills by putting you through this training in alertness and quick-reflexes, that would put even the U.S Marines to shame.

Scene 1: I am trying to make myself a cup of tea, after putting my daughter amidst her favorite toys. Although I watch the boiling water and add the ingredients in the right measure, I can still see my daughter through my mind's eye. Now, this is an extra eye at the back of the head that God gives parents of toddlers to save them from annihilatuing themselves in frustration. Dear Daughter (to be addressed henceforth as DD) looks bored with all her toys and lets out a big yawn. She then gets up and saunters lazily into the kitchen. My mind's eye sends a red alert to my still-sleepy brain, and my brain kicks into action. DD 's saunter turns into a trot as she rushes to the oil-jar cabinet and starts pulling something out. My brain sends a complex signal to hands, ordering me to switch off the stove and make a leap to catch the flip-open oil container that is just being thrown to the ground. I dive towards the container and manage to catch it by the handle. And now I realize that DD is standing in my diving trajectory. Yet another signal from my brain to quickly change my trajectory to avoid crushing DD - my body reacts to it by swinging right just in time and I manage to crash onto the refrigerator instead. The entire event took less than 2 seconds. DD,who was watching me thus far with mild interest on her face, turns around to pull out the next container from the cabinet. She believes in systematic onslaught.

Scene 2: This is Sunday morning and I am ready to feed DD her breakfast - nice soft idlis and piping-hot sambar. I take idlis in a plate and look towards the dining table, at the centre of which there is a casserole filled by the sambar. My mistake - I had left the sambar open when I went to get a ladle. My body froze for a second at the sight - DD standing on her toes and stretching to pull the casserole by its ear towards herself. My brain quickly analyzed the situation and after a quick analysis of all factors including the distance between me and DD, chose to react by screaming. The scream was very effective - DD stopped dead in her tracks, rested her feet fully on the ground and turned to me to see what made me scream. And I made an athletic dash towards her that would have put Flo-Jo to shame.

Scene 3: I am giving DD her bath. I have massaged lavish amounts of oil on her skin and hair and decide to let it sink in for sometime. I fill her tub with warm water, making sure that the temparature is just right for her. After I fill the water, DD normally plays around with it using a mug, a small cup and spoon, all of which are my "distraction tools" to prevent her from fussing/howling and climbing onto me with all her oil. But this day is different - after a while of playing, DD decides that she is bored. She points to the wall-mixer faucet set and says "TAAAP" - I nod in agreement and smile at her. She then quickly opens the knob of the cold-water tap, allowing water to fall inside the tub, and revels in splashing cold water all around. In desperation, I turn off the controlling knob of the water supply to the bathroom. She gasps in surpise for a moment, then realizes that I have done something to stop her from having fun. She lets out a blood-curdling scream followed with a long banshee-like wail. I don't relent - so she progresses to stamping her feet on the ground and shedding tears accompanied by unstoppable sobs. Both of us stick to our guns and by the end of this session, I am a heap of nerves and ready to break down if anyone dares to speak to me. And her? - the moment she is out of the room she totters towards the living room with a look of serenity and then goes into the kitchen to give our cook a most angelic smile. Talk of resilience..

Exercise keeps the physical being alert and fit. Crosswords, puzzles and su-do-ku help keep the brain alert and young. And motivational literature and talks help us keep our spirits buoyant.Having a toddler, as you would have realized, takes care of all the above. Situations might just go a little overboard at times and take you to the frontiers of these skills, but that's part of the game. So parents of the world - rejoice!

For the foodies of the world..

2006-12-07T18:31:00.000+05:30

Hubby and I have always been great food-lovers. I am a staunch vegetarian while he is not - and this, to many, may seem to be a chasm too wide. But we share the same love for good food, the willingness to experiment and the sheer no-holds-barred indulgence of our taste buds. When we see great food, we forget all new year and any other resolutions made to shape up. Calorie consciousness flies out of the window and we settle down to enjoy the feast with all our senses.

In the first 2 years after we got married, we have had more dinners outside than at home, more out of need than anything else. We both used to work late and by the time we got out, most hotels would be downing their shutters. Some of the lingering memories from those times are of both of us scurrying through the half-downed shutter of Adyar Sangeetha restaurant, with the manager attempting bravely to hide his anguished expression with a wannabe-benevolent smile. During this era, we have scoured most of South Chennai, particularly Adyar and Besant Nagar, in search of good grub. And the results were to be seen - I mean, you just had to take a look at the two of us :-)

Now, the rest of this post is a eulogy to the good eat-outs in Adyar. If you find this is too parochial and silly to be discussed/written about, please feel free to leave now. I have listed a few of our favorite places in no particular order.

Eden, the vegetarian restaurant in Besant Nagar is certainly a place to go, and if you go do not miss the "Corn on Toast" starter. And for those of you who love the taste of cheese (and are capable of developing a temporary amnesia to the fact that too much of cheese clogs the arteries), do try the "Chef's Baked Bowl". The pasta in Eden is also good, although not the greatest.

There is another place in Besant Nagar, nestled in a spot quite close to Eden - This restaurant has had many avatars in the last few years. I don't remember the first avatar, but the second was called "Sage and Onion" which served just-above-average food for much too high costs. The current avatar "Pasta and Noodles" is the best attempt from the management so far - the food is quite good and although the prices continue to be on the higher side, it is certainly worth a visit.

Then there is Wangs Kitchen, that dishes out good, properly Indianized,Chinese fare. I love the sesame fried baby corns that come as starters. For those of you who have not been here, please note that the portions are really huge. So if you think you need 2 dishes, pause, and order 1. You will most probably end up having some left over even from that. And yes, don't forget to thank me in this blog for this tip, which would have saved you a couple of hundred bucks.

When in Sangeetha Adyar, don't forget to check out their "speciality of the day". If you are in a mood for a simple dish or if you are in a hurry,try podi dosai or Special Sambar rice. If you are having breakfast there, do try Pongal-vadai, followed by a nice cup of special coffee. Great way to start off a day! And needless to say, before you enter, you should give up all unholy thoughts about the excess usage of oil, ghee etc before you dig into the food. I recently passed by Sangeetha and saw that they have put a notice claiming to use olive oil for cooking. That's probably an encouragement the more health-conscious lots to give in to the simple temptations they offer.

The famed Murugan idli shop has recently opened up in Besant Nagar. Although we have passed it many times, we have never entered it because of the milling crowds - If there is one place more crowded and noisy than Sangeetha, it is probably Murugan Idli. We have heard enough from friends that suggests that it is something worth crowding for.

Farther from Adyar, en-route to the Chennai airport, is the GRT Radisson Hotel. The best thing about this place is the restaurant called "The Great Kabab Factory". If you are under the impression that "vegetarian kabab" is an oxymoron, try this place. The chef has the tastiest veggie kababs I have ever had. And there is an equally succulent, non-vegetarian option too, that my husband vouches for. And the best part is that you don't have to order and you don't have to worry about what combination tastes best. The waiters will lovingly dole out one kabab after the other, and tell you what sauce they taste best with. The only regret you are bound to have is that your stomach is not elastic enough to take in the whole meal that they offer. Sigh..

Close to Besant Nagar Bus stand, there is the "The Fruit Shop" (also known as "The Fruit Shop on Greams Road" since they started off their first branch there). If you feel like a wholesome, fresh fruit juice or milkshake, this is the place to be. They have heavenly milkshakes and the best part is that you can say from the taste that the ingredients are fresh and there is no adulteration. Their ice creams are good too..
And finally, there is this new place that I went to yesterday, which started this whole trail of food thought.

There is a new hotel on Old Mahabalipuram road, now known as the IT corridor. It is called Fortune Select Palms - funny name for a hotel, I know.. But it seemed quite good from outside and yesterday, two of my colleagues and I decided to give it a try for lunch. We expected something normal and were overwhelmed by the extraordinary quality of food! Right from the cream of mushroom soup, to the walnut cake, every single dish that we had, tasted just as it should. The pasta was heavenly and even the sprouts and salads tasted good.(hee..) This was too good to be true - and so close to work! And the rates were quite reasonable, in fact better than many city hotels that claim to be in the same band. What a discovery!

If you have reached up to this point, you are most probably the kind that drools at the thought of good food. In case you happen to be in Chennai,give these places a try.

Nostalgia time

2006-11-30T17:57:00.000+05:30

Today, a lunchtime conversation with a colleague who had visited the UK started me off on a nostalgic trip of my stay in the country. I always knew I loved the experience of living there, but as I mulled over my memories, I found that there were a lot of moments that I truly treasured, so many experiences that I cherished and held close to my heart.

So I thought I will share some of the things that linger in my mind from my 2-year stay in High Wycombe, a beautiful town in Buckinghamshire, some 45 kms from London. The town was recently in the news for being home to the suspects in the Transatlantic aircraft plot in Aug 2006. But my memories of the place are as a serene, welcoming town that had a huge diversity in its population including Asians and Carribeans. So here is the flashback..

One morning soon after I landed, I decided to walk to the town centre on a Sunday morning. After having been used to the milling crowds in India, I was astonished to see a deserted town centre. I remember Walking on the cobbled pathways in the High Street on that wintry morning, listening to the echo of my own shoes.
There were the long solitary walks I used to take across the park along the river Wye. The grass was such a bright green that it would almost hurt my eye. Sometimes I took bread with me to feed the ducks.

My apartment was half-way up a small, beautiful hill. That area, called Downley, was one of the typical quaint English villages, with beautiful avenue-lined roads that wound up the hill. I would often walk up to the very top of the hill on evenings and watch the sunset. That was one of the most beautiful sights ever and every time I did that, a feeling of calm would descend on me. The beauty of those surroundings was almost therapeutic.

Weekends were lazy times when I did not have much to do (I could really do with one such weekend now!). I would walk to the town centre, sit in a coffee shop that was strategically located at the entrance of the Octagon Centre (the Mall) and watch people. There would be all kinds of people going about their business - fighting couples, dating teenagers, Asian families doing their weekend shopping, old ladies fussing over their pet dogs. And I would sit watching them sipping my cappuccino and a munching on a fresh blueberry muffin, for as long as I pleased.

One Sunday morning, I got up and found I had nothing to do. So I boarded a bus from the starting point in the Town centre and sat on till the end-point.. and came back in the same bus!

Whatever culinary skills I possess, I picked up when I was there. I used to try out new recipes and had a band of good friends who used to invariably land home on Saturday mornings after their weekend shopping. All of them were bachelors and whatever I made, was manna for them. I used to receive adulation even for a simple gobi masala and yes, I lapped up all the praises.

A few of my Indian colleagues decided to learn French and I joined along. We took lessons from a French lady, Martine. She is one of the most warm-hearted and kindly souls I have known. Our classes were early in the morning on weekends. Since Martine knew we would skip breakfast to come to our classes on time, she would always bring a whole lot of French breakfast with her - and we would learn our French while feeding our growling stomachs on petit-pain-au-raisin and the likes. Her warmth and friendliness made my French sessions memorable.

I stayed alone for most part of 2 years in High Wycombe. And the best part of staying alone was perhaps that it left me with more time to be with myself. Looking back, I think it is one of the best periods in my adult life.

Social tribulations

2006-11-27T16:54:00.000+05:30

This Sunday, we were invited for a wedding reception. Truth be told, I have never found it very exciting to attend wedding receptions, especially in Chennai. Now, I am definitely no social butterfly, but I am also not one of those lone-wolves who become hostile at the sight of company. Yet, whenever I had to attend a wedding or a reception, I did so with great inhibition and difficulty.

The first problem at hand was selecting the attire. One of the things I dreaded most was draping the sari. Somehow I never mastered the art of wearing a saree neatly and carrying it gracefully. Hats off to Sonia Gandhi, but this was certainly not my cuppa tea. With this handicap, I was not left with much options in attire. I would then have to find out a salwar suit that was sufficiently good for the occasion AND not jaded-looking AND of a size that I have not overgrown AND which matched with my standard sandals. Finding out something that satisfied all the above was a truly Herculean task.

The next would be to motivate my better(?)-half to budge. My husband believes that weekends are meant to be spent totally at home, and specifically on the couch, with the TV remote in one hand and laptop on his lap (superfluous I know). Any statement from me that calls for a shift in this sofa-spud pose is met with different stages of reactions - his first reaction is I-pretend-to-be-deaf, the next is a frown with a raised eyebrow but still no verbal response or physical shift of position. Hubby dear being an Industrial Engineer by qualification, really believes in economy of movements, you see!. Then finally, when my push comes to the shove and he can no longer ignore it, he lets a loud yawn or shrug and asks me "Now What do you want me to do" with a sacrificial-lamb-being-dragged-to-altar look on his face.

Finally, when we both are ready and dressed, we would start this mad-hunt for the wedding invite, which, by then, would have been buried under the huge pile of mail and bills stacked in our draw. In the event of us finding it, we would then rush to a map to find out the location of some S.K Mahal or A.M.R Kalyana Mandapam in some usually-unexplored part of Chennai. Most of the times, we would have huge arguments in the car as to which road we should take. Hubby's logic is that since he drives, I am supposed to be the navigator and hence, should not only know the way perfectly, but also provide advance instructions to him on when and where to turn. HAA HAA..

And so, after much trials and tribulations, we would arrive at this overcrowded wedding reception, which would be alive with "light music" playing in the background. For the uninitiated among you, this so-called light music is louder and noisier than most of the heavy metal and rock music that you have come across. To say it is deafening would be an under-statement. The one and only good thing about this music is that it enables the guests to shower undivided focus on peoples' dresses and jewellery. Since there is no possibility of conversation, all you do is watch around and see who is wearing what. The looks and glances one sees here is a topic for a separate blog in itself. Hmmphh..

And finally the icing on the cake would be this huge queue to go up the podium to wish the couple and another round of musical chair to secure a place for dinner. Do people really do this so their marriages become a "memorable" occasion and are etched in the guests' minds? Then I think they are right.

Now you know why I am mildly standoffish towards receptions. But what I wanted to say here was this : The one I attended this weekend was a refreshing change. First of all, blessing of blessings, the reception was held at a place closer home. When we got there after an uneventful (read peaceful) journey, we were delighted to find the hall was not overcrowded. For a change, there were no people breathing down our necks for the chairs. And instead of the dreaded "light" music, we had soft instrumental music (carnatic- Veena). To put it mildly, I found this to be uplifting to my spirit. For once, the music did not make my adrenaline levels go high and set my heart racing in frustration. Instead it was relaxing. And oh- there was no queue for dinner, since the number of invitees just equalled the hall's capacity. I could not have asked for more. I came back, having enjoyed my time there and wishing that I'd get invited for only such receptions in future.

Snippets from the past

2006-11-23T17:29:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I got home from work a little later than usual. My daughter was sitting in the living room, playing with her toys. She looked up to see me and I was surprised to see that her usual sunny smile was not breaking out on her face. She looked at me for an instant and then continued playing, as if she wanted to ignore my presence. Was she angry that I was late? Was she tired of looking at every single car that went by our apartment, thinking it would be me? There was a big tug in my already-guilty conscience. I went to her, kissed her and called for truce with an offer I knew she couldn't resist - I offered to carry her around as an "uppu chakku" (in which we would pretend that she was a gunny bag of salt that I was carrying for sale). Predictably, she giggled and came running to me. And all was well..

Later, I wondered as I watched her sleep - Was my baby old enough to feel angry at my being late? Or was I imagining things? How much of this would she remember when she grew up? My earliest memories started at around the age of 4 or maybe 5. I can't say I remember a lot, but these are some of the earliest things that I still remember.

I was then staying with my mother at her parents' home. I remember with striking clarity, a day when my aunts (mother's sisters, who were in their teens then) asked me to look at the old grandfather clock in the hall and tell them the time. They knew that I did not know to tell the time, but they just wanted to keep me from pestering them with questions. I went back saying that the little needle of the clock was at X and the big needle at Y. But that was not good enough, they said, and sent me back to stand near the clock till I could read the time properly. I remember standing in front of the clock, full of consternation, my mind filling with a sense of sadness and shame because I knew I wouldn't be able to do it. I'm sure my aunts didn't mean to be cruel or make me feel bad, but the strength of my feeling is proven by the fact that I can close my eyes even now and remember myself standing in front of the clock.

One day, when I was in kindergarten, my class teacher had told us to memorise a rhyme. I totally forgot and the next day morning, when my cycle-wallah came to pick me up for school, I remember the feeling of terror that flooded me when I realised I had forgotten. I refused to go to school that day, and it took a whole lot of persuasion and assurance from my mother and aunts to make me go. And I felt my feet turning into cold jelly when the teacher asked us to recite the rhyme - thankfully, she asked the entire class to recite together and I got away mumbling some nonsense amidst the noise. That rhyme, still etched in memory, goes "Cock-a-doodle-doo, My dame has lost her shoe.."

I remember all the books my uncle used to buy for me as a child. A most treasured one was a colourful picture book that had photos and names of beautiful fishes. I am in no way interested in fish-rearing and cannot even tell one fish from another. But I still remember that the most beautiful fish in that book was called "The Golden Gourami". I don't have a clue as to why I remember just that fish!

When mom and I moved to a new city to join dad, and I was put a new school, everything changed. I had to get used to a new language and make new friends. On my first day at the new school, I remember waiting after the classes for my mother to pick me up. For some reason, I can still remember the white polyester saree with small blue flowery design she was wearing on that day.

I remember stretching my hand out to mom for round balls of "paruppum chadam" (rice and daal). I have still not grown of it as my comfort food.

I remember being extremely shy till I was 6 or 7. So shy that I wouldn't tell my name or even say hello when we had guests at home. I have no idea what changed that!

And then there are these photo-frame kind of memories - walking down the morning market with my mother, and asking her to buy some plums(I hate them now) for me, sobbing my heart out when my mother insisted on my hair being cut short, the embroidery shop that my mom took me to have a beautiful lacy pink frock stitched on my 4th (or was it 5th?) birthday, the small shop she used to take me to buy "rose-milk" for me..

The pile of memories grew with me, but whenever I delve into the past, I find some of these earliest ones the most comforting.. and I love going back to them.

Xtreme Connectivity

2006-11-20T12:36:00.000+05:30

I have never ever been the cool,gadget-loving yuppie - I have always taken a long time to start using/get used to gadgets. My husband, on the other hand, loves gadgets of any kind, right from crazy barking and jumping alarm clocks to the iPod. He can spend hours together fiddling around with his gadgets, searching the internet and resolving problems, leaving his weekend tasks to pile up until I took them up and completed them in desperation. The last 2 weeks, he has been mulling over the idea of buying a smart phone for himself. He had a pretty archaic mobile,the possession of which might have caused many a young yuppie go beet-red with shame. We went shopping on Saturday and he got himself what he wanted - But at the end of it, I was wondering about the wisdom of our purchase - The arrival of his new smart phone meant that he was permanently "connected" - or should I say hooked? - 24 by 7.

When I was growing up, my parents had regular 9-5 jobs. They would be home by 6 PM and then the entire evening was 'family time'. In fact, the telephone was the only "connecting device" in those days and I don't remember that either of my parents got too many work-related calls after their work hours. When I started working, things were pretty much the same. The work timings were extended, but once I got home, I was cut-off from work except in emergecy situations. And then the mobile revolution happened - despite the obvious advantage of always being connected, the disadvantages were also ours to live with. Work almost always came home because anyone could easily reach you at the push of a button. 5 years after they arrived, the mobile phones have made a huge dent in the quality of time spent with the family during evenings and even during weekends. Of course, one might say, it is a choice that we make. But then how many of us make that choice?

Then came the era of sleek laptops, fast internet access and cheap broadband connectivity. With such facilities, how could one not be expected to check emails in the morning, before one starts from home? And so we bade goodbye to tranquil mornings and got "connected" for the updates on work.

And now with the advent of smart phones, you can check emails while on vacations, while you are commuting to work in the mornings or even when you are at dinner with family - WOW! Where has technology taken us?

And we continue to yap on about work-life balance, stress-busters, the benefits of yoga, weekend get-aways, vacations et al, when all we need is probably some "unconnected" time to relax.

Chennai-speak

2006-11-14T13:09:00.000+05:30

I thought I should post a little something on the city that has been home to me for most part of the last decade. I cannot provide any authentic new information on Chennai, as it is all already available on the internet. So I have chosen to opine on what I like and dislike about this bustling metro.

7 Things I love about Chennai:
------------------------------
1) Down-to-earth and industrious people - There are exceptions, but most people are willing to help any stranger who asks for a way. They also believe in earning their income. The infamous autowallahs are an exception, I guess.

2) Cost of living - Chennai has an economic flexibility - it offers options for the poor as well as the rich. Right from the roadside Achi idli shop, where a decent and filling breakfast still costs only Rs.10 to the Taj's Coffee Shop, Chennai has it all.

3) Cosmopolitanism - Although it is nowhere near Mumbai, Chennai has moved a lot in this direction in the last 10 years. Frappe is as accepted as Filter Coffee and pizzas sell more than Masala dosa. And yes, the famous "December Music Season", previously dominated by Carnatic Music, has now thrown its doors open to Hindustani, Western Classical, Fusion and other experimental music.

4) Sambar Vadai,Pongal,Podi Dosai from Sangeetha/Saravana Bhavan - We have a friend who has globe-trotted quite a bit and whenever he comes to Chennai, he asks us to take him to Sangeetha for a masala dosa straight from the airport. Such is the dosa magic.

5) The beaches and the hyper-activity surrounding them

6) Many many temples - you name a god and there will be one of His of Her temples in Chennai. Almost every road has a "Pillayar" (Ganesha) and interestingly, some of these "pillayar's" have a prefix denoting what blessing they specialis in providing. REALLY! - "Adi Sankara Santhana Ganapati" (Pray to him for Progeny), "Ishta Siddhi Vinayagar"(General - all desires), "Ananda Ganapati" (Happiness), "Selva Vinayagar" (Wealth) etc.

7) The Adyar/Besant Nagar crowd - Totally biased opinion. You can take it or leave it

7 Things I resent about Chennai:
--------------------------------
1) Haggling with autowallahs who ask for the sky and more

2) The 9 month long summer, consisting of 6 months of intolerably scorching heat

3) The way Chennai's roads cannot handle rains. Storm water drains don't exist and entire areas are inundated at the very onset of monsoon

4) Peak hour traffic - but then which metro doesn't have it ?

5) Some policemen who accept petty bribes

6) Set-top box - Why? Why? Why did Chennai become and stay the guinea-pig?

7) Polygamous politicians

Now, if you are thinking, why 7 - it is because I have to stop before you fall asleep and by the way, 7 also happens to be my favourite number.

Pipe dreams???

2006-11-13T14:46:00.000+05:30

I was inside this quaint little cottage with stone walls and tiled roof. It was soothingly warm inside and the delicious smell of hot chocolate pervaded. I was sitting in a cozy chair near the window, my legs stretched out, turning the pages of a book lazily, looking out of the window once in a while. The scene from the window was simply breathtaking – hillocks covered with green pastures, clear blue sky and a small silver stream of water flowing through the meadows. I could ask for nothing more – this was my perfect moment of peace and tranquility. Baaaaaaahhhhhhh… A shrill cry ran through the air and shook me. I struggled up and threw off my sheets. My daughter was bawling next to me in bed from her teething pain. My husband was sleeping peacefully (like a child?) on the other end of the bed. My daughter’s cries don’t normally get him out of Dreamland as easily as they get me. I rocked my daughter back to sleep – thankfully, she fell asleep easily this time. As I tried to settle down to sleep, I recollected my dream fondly and wondered when that would come true, if at all it could come true. A bit of time for myself to laze around, do what I want and worry about nothing else. I guess I have to wait at least for a couple of years – or is it more?

I work full-time. For those of you who think full-time is morning 9 to evening 6, here is a peek into my routine. After I get back home at 7 (1 hr commute), I spend the remaining time with my daughter. We play peek-a-boo, read the story of “How the caterpillar became a butterfly” together and we even do some silly little jigs to her favorite music. After that is her bed-time. Putting her to bed can take as little as 10 minutes or as much as 90 mts (very rare, but really!), depending on how she has slept during the day. So, on the easy days, after she has slept, I come out and complete some pending chores – putting the ironed clothes back into the closet, putting her toys back in place, writing out cheques for bills and the likes. I have my dinner and by that time, I am ready to crash onto bed. Sometimes I spend a few minutes checking emails or watching headlines on T.V, but then this disciplinarian inner voice tells me to not waste time and get to bed, because sleep is precious. My husband usually works late and is never around in the evenings on working days.
I need at least 7 hours of sleep a day, preferably 8, to keep me energetic and functioning fully well. And since my daughter is an early-riser, I prefer retiring early. And then, the next morning at 6 AM, I either wake up to her chatter or she decides to wake me up by smooching me all over my face. If it has been a good night, with little disruptions in her sleep, I feel fresh. But if she has been unwell, or has had teething troubles or such, I get up but my body is longing for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. And then the day starts….

Whoever coined the word “working mom” was a bit out of vocabulary I think. We have a choice of adjectives in English to describe this state– How about stressed mom, besieged mom, inundated mom, hassled mom, fraught mom? Does it sound very bad? But any mom-to-a-toddler who works full time would agree with my choice of words.

Gone are those days when I could spend my time lazing through books and magazines. Now, even if I lock myself in for a long bath on weekends, I strain my ear to listen to my daughter’s protests asking for me from outside. And 90 out of 100 times, I hear it clearly 10 minutes into my bath. And so it doesn’t take a Freud to help interpret the above dream of mine. Like Julie Andrews sang in “The Sound of Music” I can list down a few of my “Favorite things” that I long to do. Here are some of my dream things-to-do..
- Have a whole morning lazing around doing nothing - Get up when I want to, make a cup of steaming coffee for myself and read a newspaper fully
- Reading a whole book in one sitting
- Being at home alone for a whole day with the calling bell and telephone disconnected
- Shopping for a full day without a care in the world and without feeling guilty
- Having a late night dinner, without having to worry 15 times every 10 minutes about my daughter waking up and crying for me
- Listening to good music at least 30 minutes a day (without noise disruptions)
- Making this blog of mine more readable - he he he

Like ABBA sing in their beautiful song,
“I have a dream, a fantasy
To help me through reality……
.............................
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
Ill cross the stream - I have a dream”

The goodness of flaxseed oil

2006-11-09T16:07:00.000+05:30

Recently, while browsing, I stumbled upon an article that talked about the wonders of flaxseed and flaxseed oil. I was dumbfounded to say the least - Flaxseed, known as Alivira in Tamil and Muthira in Malayalam, although valued in the past for its medicinal properties, has lost most of its sheen in the recent past. In fact I know families that avoid it conscientiously since it is branded as "the food of the horses". Looks like the horses continue to benefit while we moved on to burgers and pizzas and what not. The article I read pointed out the flaxseeds and flaxseed oil are rich in Omega-3-fatty-acids, which are much needed for the body, and are known to be beneficial for heart diseases, inflammatory bowel diseases, arthritis and according to some studies, even cancer. WOW! And all along, I was under the impression that Omega-3-fatty-acids can be got only from fish! Being a vegetarian by upbringing, and later by choice, I had always felt that I was missing out on these fatty acids. Was I thrilled! More crawling in the internet told me that flaxseed oil is not suitable to be heated for cooking as it loses its properties when heated. There are lots of sites that give recipes using flax seed including some yummy-sounding ones.

For those of you who are in Chennai, cold pressed flaxseed oil is available in ECONUT, the health food shop in Besant Nagar - at least this is what I found from the internet. I am going to check it out soon!

The Art of Parenting

2006-11-07T16:05:00.000+05:30

Last week was a real hectic week – My husband’s sister, her husband and 4 year old son were with us on the last leg of their vacation before they returned to the U.S. With 2 kids at home, it was complete pandemonium. The kids were playing together, fighting for the same toy, stepping on each other and shrieking, all at once. Till now, I was under the impression that the most difficult and trying part of parenting was till age 3. Logically, I thought, this was the age by which most kids could at least communicate their basic needs. From infancy to this point, whenever a child cries for something, we parents respond to it through their guesses, which at times may not be quite intelligent. So the ability to express themselves, one would assume, would liberate the children from most of their problems. This last week cleared away all such delusions as I saw my nephew’s tussles with his parents.

For the first 2-3 years, the problems are because we don’t know what the kid wants, and after that I guess it is because we know precisely what they want :-).Strange are the ways of nature! I have heard lots of people say “After you have kids, life is never the same again” with a note of finality in their voices.It was one of the clichés that you kept hearing, I thought when I was young. Like many mothers of my generation, I am an “Internet mom” – from the early days of pregnancy, I was constantly reading up on the baby, its development stages and the do’s and the don’ts, trying to equip myself fully for any challenge that parenting would throw. But little did I realize what I was in for, until I came face to face with it. At times, I have found parenting to be trying, frustrating and even daunting experience. A little bit of introspection would probably reveal that parenting is one of the ways we fulfill this need within us to grow, to become better human beings. For most of us, the entire experience reshapes us and moulds us into better individuals. Parenting, in that sense,is as much about our growth as it is about that of our children’s.

After my daughter was born, I don’t remember taking a single step, be it giving her a medicine or buying a nappy rash cream, without checking it up on the internet. But there were times when the soundest logic does not work with your child, the seemingly sure-to-work steps will backfire. This, I think, is one of the most beautiful aspects of parenting. It has taught me humility and acceptance. A year ago, I would have guffawed at any mom who would have told me that something doesn’t work with her child. Today, I know that there are some things that you cannot change, some things that cannot be controlled.
Another great thing about parenting is the emotional security that it provides. Here is this small person, who loves you unconditionally, who doesn’t care a whit as to whether you are clad in rags or dressed to kill, and loves you the same either way. Here is one person who reserves for you the sunniest of her smiles and the tightest of her hugs. Who would not want to come home to that kind of love?
And yes, parenting has definitely changed the way I look at the world – when I hear the word “child abuse” and read about how some of the young children are exploited, my eyes well up with tears because I see my child in them. And I am moved to do something for them.
There are so many other small changes in me after I became a mom – parenting tinkers around with you, toughens you up a bit here and softens you a bit there and makes you laugh and cry in this process.

Reams and reams of paper have been dedicated to the topic of parenting and a Google search would throw up a plethora of writing in this area. But there are 2 pieces of writing that I like best.
One of them is what the great Kahlil Gibran wrote in his book “The Prophet” – this I think is the best-written guide to parenthood:

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable”

The other piece, although not comparable to the first in any way, is something that I really love for its succinct expression of how a child would remember a good parent. This is Arundhati Roy’s dedication of her book, “The God of Small Things” (which went on to win the Booker Prize) to her mother, Mary Roy. It goes thus:
“For Mary Roy who grew me up. Who taught me to say 'excuse me' before interrupting her in public. Who loved me enough to let me go"

If my daughter would grow up and think of me thus, I would believe I have lived up to the role of being a mother. The most poignant statement here is the last one, that talks about letting go – It takes a lot of love to bring up a child well, but I believe it takes more love to let them go on their way, to make their follies and learn from it. That, I believe, is the litmus test of good parenting.

Rain Rain Come Again...

2006-10-30T11:44:00.000+05:30

Its Monday again! And this time, I had only a day's break for the week. Saturday was a very difficult day - after leaving work, I had to get my weekly grocery from 2 different stores before I went home. I hated shopping in the rain and slush, but I didnt have an option. The bright spot on Saturday was the fact that my husband was coming back from a month's trip abroad. His flight was due to arrive at 11.45 PM. I put my daughter to bed and napped till 12. After that I couldnt sleep as I was waiting for him to arrive any moment. Outside,I could hear the wind howling and the rain lashing. At half past one, I got a call from him saying he was not getting any cabs from the airport. I tried calling some cabs but none of them had anything available. I had stopped driving since my pregnancy and after the break, I was too scared to start. So we had always managed with a driver. At this time of the night, with the rain and wind, it would be no use trying to get our driver to pick him up! To make things worse, there was no power in our locality - they had probably switched it off to avoide people getting electrocuted in the water-logged roads? I read that in the newspapers during the last year's rains.It was a hopeless situation. At 2.30, he finally arrived - He had managed to get a cab from the airport, but after driving half-way down the road where our house is, the cabbie had refused to come further due to the knee-deep water. My poor husband tried persuading him and even promised him more money,to no avail. In a desparate move, he had waded through the water with his huge bag (28kgs) and his laptop. And whats more, he had to carry it up three flights of stairs to our apartment since the elevator was not working. Water had seeped into his "softcase" bag and he was worried sick that all the electronic toys he had painstakingly shopped for our daughter would be spoilt. By the time he reached home, he was tired, frustrated and fuming. He brightened up only when our daughter woke up at 3 AM, saw her dad and demonstrated her obvious happiness in seeing him by staying awake till 5 AM :-) Sunday was spent fully at home, unpacking luggage, washing and drying stuff, a far cry from the rest that we had looked forward to. Thankfully, most of the toys my husband had got were still working, except for a puppy that seemed to be singing only half of each song. That was still much better than what we had feared.

In any case, the entire story would pale to insignificance against the travails of the poor people who live in thatched houses with water seeping in, and sometimes pouring down through the roof. My maid, who came in to work on Sunday, said that her house was inundated and she had had to sweep out rainwater all night while her kids sat on the one bed that they had. She still had a shadow of smile on her face and went about her job with no big fuss - I really respect these people for their resilience.

Although the rain wreaks such havoc, I think not a soul in Chennai, including my maid, would dare pray for a year without rain. Because if there is something worse than this, it is the prospect of facing water shortage in the scorching 9-month-long summer in Chennai. The very thought brings vivid pictures to any Chennai-ite's mind -Milling crowds waiting for water, water tankers rumbling on the roads throughout the night- sometimes causing freak accidents, taps running dry while you are in the middle of your bath, plunging cleanliness levels because the poor cannot afford to buy water and resulting diseases.....

So we in Chennai, continue to pray for the lesser evil of having a good North-East monsoon. Whenever I sing rhymes to my daughter, I carefully avoid "Rain Rain Go Away" - What if the Rain Gods were listening and decided to grant my plea!!

Eureka - I'm going to blog!

2006-10-28T11:23:00.000+05:30

For a long time, I kept thinking of starting a blog - but never got down to it. Somehow, I didn't find the motivation to write - and then there is this huge inertia to start off something new. So I dilly-dallied time and again. This morning was quite depressing- it is raining hard in Chennai, the place I live, and it has been raining so for the last one week. The city roads are flooded with water and commuting is quite difficult. And the moment I awoke this morning, it struck me (and struck me hard) that it was a working Saturday. What could be worse than having to go to work on a rainy Saturday? I almost winced at the thought as I sat up in bed. My daughter, a 14 month old, who had just woken up, gave a quizzical look at my expression. I hopped out of bed reluctantly - my daughter started chanting "kaa-kaa" reminding me of our daily ritual of showing her the crows and feeding them early in the morning. Our day had begun. She ensured that she kept me busy till the time I started for work, but even her frolic and fun didn't pep me up today the way it normally does.

After I came to work, even my usually energizing cuppa tea couldn't jump-start me to get on with my pile of work. I looked out of the window behind me and saw the water-logged grassland with numerous flotsam of algae on it. The horizon looked grey and the entire scene reminded me of the line from some book - Was it O.Henry's short story "The Gift of the Magi" where the heroine looks out and sees a grey cat walking on a grey wall or fence? I guess the greyness had to do with her mind, just as mine. I felt the sudden need to do SOMETHING to cheer myself up, something to break the MONOTONY. And in a snap, I knew what I wanted to do - BLOG :-)

So here I am - it is a beginning of an experiment for me. I have long wanted to maintain a diary of sorts for my musings. But I could never do it consistently. For lack of time, for lack of commitment etc etc.. If you need reasons, you can always find a zillion of them. So let me test my ability to push myself - I intend to write at least once in 2-3 days, if not more. Here I go.............