silentoneinlondon

Reliable Mechanic

2008-07-17T10:10:00.001+01:00

if anyone knows of a reliable mechanic (and not this is not an oxymoron, they do exist !) in London, preferably East London, then please do let me know.

A Hiatus

2008-07-03T13:44:00.002+01:00

See you on the other side... Hopefully......

Edited to add - a dear friend of mine, bless his heart, mis-interpreted this post and just called me in a utter state of panic to find out whats going on. All i meant to say was that I am taking a break from writing and will hopefully be back soon.

Did any of you interpret it to be anything different than I am taking a break from writing ?

You can relax now C, panic over...thanks for your call..

Of visiting friends..

2008-06-27T16:27:00.000+01:00

A dear friend of mine recently visited us from the far east a few weeks ago. I know him for a reasonably long period of time now, yet we havent met that often, in fact this was only the second time that I was meeting him.

I met him 'virtually' under rather strange circumstances - strange for me, because i normally never do things like that. I met him on a internet singing site - i know, how lame does that sound ? I can assure you though that such a site did exist and stranger still, it was fairly popular. What I was doing there ? Well, it was my pre-London student days, when I needed an inexpensive hobby to while away time and at the same time feel good about it - what better way to do it than to sing to a group of strangers ? These said strangers even made you feel good , who out of sheer politeness and goodness of their heart egged you on and appreciated your music using their keypads to offer words of encouragement. You could choose to sing different genres of music on different days - so if i was feeling particularly classically inclined, i could join a classical music room on one day, a ghazal room on another, film music on the third - well you get the picture.

My friend, lets call him L, used to be (we have both since outgrown this hobby) one of the regular listeners of the forum. The forum itself had its own groups and subgroups with a small, dedicated core group of people running the show and L was one of those and slowly, over time we started chatting. I dont even know how or why it became a habit, but it did. Looking back, it sure was strange as he is in a profession which, though I am supposed to have a degree in, i know absolutely nothing about and have no inclination or interest in whatsoever. Yet we discussed it a lot, mostly L quizzing me on stuff that I was supposed to know and he having a good laugh when i did not.

Bald (and you thought i would not mention that L?), a great dancer, generous to a fault - he makes quite a character. Yet he is one of the warmest people i know and has been there for me through some tough times.

I think its fair to say that L taught me one of my big life lessons - thats it not always necessary to have a degree to do well in your profession. I come from an old school of thought, and so in my books education is the only path to success. L is very successful in what he does now. I am more qualified than him on paper in that subject but know next to nothing about it. He has risen to great heights entirely on his own merit and its fair to say that I did give him a lot of grief initially with my questions about how we got there. In my defense, at that time, I thought such a thing was impossible and so he must have used some good old 'influence'. Laugh all you want, so i was young and impressionable.

L is awfully fond of children and one of his reasons for coming to London (his words, not mine) was to see my little one. I have been giving him snippets of information for him to be sufficiently interested and so he decided to take the plunge and make a trip. The little one refused to go to him initially because she seems to have a strange, (ir)rational fear of most men. My uncle is an exception, but she normally starts crying when other men visit. She is fine with women, its just the men she is fearful of. So she has to be cajoled into going and saying hello, playing with men (if only this habit lasts !). L was confident that he would be an exception, even though I had warned him to not expect any different. As I predicted, she refused to go to him, yet he persisted rather sweetly and eventually she went to him (which is a big deal for her, because she normally would not go even after they have stayed for a couple of hours). It was wonderful seeing them play together with L behaving like a long-lost schoolchild, eager to please.

It was a wonderful, albeit short trip. He got me an awesome gift, one which I was awfully embarrassed to accept, yet I did gracefully (his words, not mine). Thank you L. I have a memory like a sieve when it comes to dates and so I thought i would write all this so that I at least remember the year and month of his visit a couple of years down the line.

Update - continued...

2008-06-05T16:43:00.001+01:00

I forgot to add that the little one has completely outgrown her pacifier. Phew, I have somehow never liked them and I never thought that i would use one. But babies are born to defy your wishes and choices, sometimes.

I had this huge mental debate whether we should give her a pacifier or not when I was pregnant. I was ambivalent at best and left it at that, reading up loads of material on the internet about it. When the little one was born, we got given 2-3 pacifiers with some of the other stuff that we bought (bottles, steriliser etc). We tried it one day when she was a bit unsettled and she seemed to love it, so we stuck with it. She would also sleep longer at nights when she used it and so it clearly became a no-brainer to continue using it. She only used it while sleeping though, more frequently at nights rather than in the daytime.

And then one day, soon after she turned about 14 months, she stopped using it. Just like that with no conscious effort on our part at all. She refuses it consistently now and tells us to put it away. I am so relieved because I had these visions of having to force her away from it, with her screaming away and me being mean and stick to my ground. But none of that..

The resemblance of her taste in food to mine is really uncanny. I can almost predict what she will eat and what she will refuse straight away :).. her favourite vegetable seems to be ladies finger / okra.. She will eat that at any time, even after she has just had a meal. Of course its not in the same league as say a papad, but its pretty close.

2008-05-23T16:28:00.002+01:00

ALERT – This post talks about my child’s bowel functions in detail. If you find this vile or disgusting or too much information for your liking, please feel free to skip. Normal programming will resume after this post.

Somehow motherhood makes you cross the barriers of discussing distasteful topics and things like poop and pee become quite important, specially the lack of.

We had quite a rough weekend as the little one has been constipated. It had been like that for more than a week but since she has been alert, active, happy, playful and has more or less retained her appetite, we were not that concerned. She would strain a lot with her face going rather red from the effort and produce two-three hard pellets.

We tried loads of home remedies which we had read/heard about – giving her boiled, cooled water with raisins and omam (ajwain in Hindi), bananas and no bananas (there is this debate if banana is good/bad for constipation), an entirely liquid diet, lots of orange juice, getting her to eat raisins, more water in her diet, prune juice (which was a real challenge because she hates the taste of it).

On Saturday, she still wasn’t feeling any better. So I decided to call NHS Direct. I have never been happy with the service levels within the NHS, but NHS Direct is one service which I recommend whole-heartedly. It is a phone service run by nurses, who take down all the details and then get an emergency doctor closest to where you live to call you back for specialist advice. The nurses are so friendly, helpful, reassuring, caring – a far cry from the ones I have seen at the hospitals. The emergency doctor called us back and prescribed Lactulose – all on the phone. That’s how advanced the system is here in this country.

By Tuesday, after continuing with the home remedies as well as starting her off on the medication, we still had no luck. There was hardly any change in her pooping pattern and I sought some gyaan from a wonderful network of other mothers that I am a part of. One of them mentioned that her son had to be hospitalized for constipation and so I should not take it lightly. That freaked me out completely and also the little one passed some blood, what with all the straining.

We took her to our GP straight away and his diagnosis was that we should give her melon, avoid bananas completely, give her lots and lots of fruits and vegetables, water and double the dosage of lactulose. She seems to be on the mend, but is not fully ok as yet. The doctor said that as long as her abdomen is soft (which it was), we should not worry too much and go back to him after a week. Its been more than a week but she has not fully recovered as yet. Fingers crossed, wondering what this long weekend will bring.

An update on the little one..

2008-05-22T22:04:00.003+01:00

The little one has grown so so much since the last time I wrote.. Its hard keeping pace with her now, since she learns new things everyday.

My parents arrived around the first week of April. The 'change of guards' as Calculus refers to the grandparents-changing-over ritual happened then. There was a day's overlap between one set of parents arriving and the other leaving and it was good fun. The little one was quite amused to find that she had two sets of thathas and paatis in the same room.

Calculus's father was very very upset to leave the little one behind and it was awful watching the separation. It is times like these that make you wish you lived a lot closer to home. My parents already talk about how upset they will be when they leave 5 months later !!!!!!!!

The little one took to my parents quite well, my father especially. He has a way with children and has always been good with them. She took a little more time to get familiar with my mother, and now she is very attached to both. She took a lot more time this time around to get adjusted to my mother feeding her, changing her nappy, bathing her, to name a few. She has my father wrapped around her little finger - also she needs to do is whimper and my father will go running to her.

She loves playing catch catch with Calculus. She throws the ball and Calculus has to make a big fuss of catching the ball and she is so so amused by that. She also loves watching him throw the ball on to the wall and catch it. That can keep her amused for a long time. Our terrace is indeed proving to be a real blessing, now that it is summer time - she spends ages walking there on a nice day.

If we ask her 'Who is N baby', she points to herself.. rather sweet..

She loves playing hide and seek.. She has to be carried by paati and thatha has to go and hide. No other combination works as well nor is she satisfied by any other.

She spends a lot of time sitting by the french window in our bedroom and looking out. My mother says that she sits there a lot during the day too, amusing herself and chattering away.

She keeps herself amused a lot by her VTech Alphabet desk. It plays musical tunes and she has clear favourites, which she listens to over and over again. Another favourite is putting on her signature tune and dancing endlessly - stamping her feet, waving her hands, swirling like a dervish, doing sit-ups - all variations of her dance routine.

She loves to smear body lotion on your hands, legs.. She also understands some basic commands - like get me my socks, get me my cream.. With her always willing temperament, I see a good errand girl in the making :)

She had her first alphonso mangoes this season. I dont think she particularly cared for it, if i am completely honest. She ate them, but not with as much passion as I would have liked her to. Ah well, am sure there is still time.

She doesnt let anybody near her when she is pooping now. She has her designated corner and if you go near her, she shoos you away. Only when she is done are you allowed to go near her.

The other day while I was giving her a bath, she suddenly became very distressed and started crying. Initially, I could not figure out the reason and was trying all sorts when I realised that she wanted to poop. My reasoning was that she did not want to poop in the bath and so she was distressed. I was nearly done anyway, so quickly towelled her, put her nappy and dress on. Only then would she do her job. Maybe she is ready for toilet training !!!

She still has a strange fear of most men !! For instance, the man who came to read the electric meter, window cleaner, our conceirge downstairs (not the lady, just the man even though he is very friendly to her), my male friend who visited recently. My friend persisted in winning her over and eventually succeeded.. Mind you, am not complaining, merely pointing out.

She still has not interacted much with other children her age, something which I hope will change soon.

Of spending habits...

2008-05-19T10:41:00.000+01:00

It’s quite obvious that I have middle class blood flowing in my veins, which surfaces ever so often, reminding me to save money. To not spend anything, especially not on non-essentials and stock up on stuff that I can during our regular trips back to desh. So for instance bags, contact-lenses, dental work, kitchen gadgets would fall under this category in this classification that I have devised.

This list used to be much longer than it is now, but over the years, it has reduced considerably. Calculus thinks I am mad and nearly disowned me once because he had to pay excess baggage for getting a wet grinder with him from India on one trip. Thankfully, I was not with him to bear the brunt of his anger and by the time he got home, he had mellowed down a lot and though he was still annoyed, it wasn’t all that bad probably because of the joy he felt on seeing me (or so I like to think).

During my first trip abroad (on work) in 1997, I would hesitate to even drink a cup of coffee because it cost the equivalent of 80 rupees. Probably at that time, it made sense because I was still earning in INR and was getting a daily allowance in the local currency of the country (used to be Dutch Guilders, but that’s all changed now). With each trip, my hesitation gradually reduced at least when it came to buying food. With other things – clothes, electronics I was rather careful, doing the math frantically in my head each time.

The converting habit has largely remained with me to this day. I have this horrible habit of converting pounds into rupees for selected things that I buy. The keyword here is selected as I don’t do any conversion whatsoever for clothes. For everything else I still do. I recently bought a rather expensive designer label bag for an astronomical sum (after much convincing from a dear friend, I must add) – a sum which would have probably sufficed as our food budget for an entire month (but hey food is cheap in this country – not eating out, but grocery wise). I was doing the mental math, thinking that I will probably be able to buy 10 such bags in Dharavi for that price. I felt guilty for days after, not using the bag at all, but admiring it from a distance. I finally succumbed and started using it – its also strange how I have suddenly started noticing the type of bags other women carry. I can now see how easy it is to get addicted to the good things in life.

Why was I reminded of all of this suddenly? Because I got a haircut last week and my mother gasped when Calculus mentioned the converted rupee figure to my mother, (in jest) because he knew it would bug me and it sure did. My haircut’s great though and calculus noticed it immediately as I walked in, which is saying a lot.

Farewell.

2008-05-09T14:07:00.001+01:00

(may 7)

Dear Aunty Uma,

I heard about your passing on (on 5^th May - TWO entire days late) from R today. R was thoughtful enough to email me. I read it while at work away from home, thankfully at the end of the day else I would not have been able to function at all. I just wanted to fast-forward through our business dinner, come back to the hotel room and relive all those wonderful memories that I have in my mind. Yet I endured the dinner and put on a brave face, much as what you told me once. You would have been proud of me, I am sure.

I don’t even remember the last time I met you – it has been so long now. Every time I visit home, I always always think of visiting Chennai to see you, but somehow it never materialized over the years. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for putting it off for as long as I did.

One of the reasons I did not visit in all these years was because I could combine visiting you with P’s wedding. When she told me a few months ago that she had found ‘The One’ but no dates had been finalized, I was already making mental plans of attending. I don’t think I will now, I just cannot imagine her wedding without you in it. Not in my mind in a million years.

I have learnt so so many lessons from you all through my childhood. I somehow cannot imagine a world without you in it. Of the many kind aunties in the building, I was the closest to you and so often think of the numerous afternoons spent at your place.

One of my earliest memories is of P as a baby. A chubby, bouncy, happy baby – she was the building favourite. Of how you would let us handle P, under your very watchful eyes. You were visible yet invisible, one of the things which I admired immensely. I also learned so many positive things about sibling rivalry from you – how beautifully you handled S when she grew immensely jealous of P (of course this one is in hindsight).

Do you remember the time when S and me were arguing about death ? I don’t remember the exact argument now, all I do remember is how you handled us – giving us valuable life lessons along the way. You taught me to view a funeral as a celebration of one’s life for a life well lived, something which was quite alien to me at the time, among so many other wonderful life lessons that you taught us. Above all, I don’t think I can ever forget how you never differentiated between S & P at all ever.

Remember the time where you spoke about how you would have loved to work, have a career but that it never worked out like that. Of all the stories which you told us to keep us indoors away from the scorching heat of the sun on many many afternoons, that one is etched in my memory.

I have so many memories of our time together – that they cant all be put down here. Yet some stand out as I relive those days – remember those wonderful snacks you used to make when S, P and I played in your house – a new one everyday. How I would run up the five floors to your house when I was upset or angry and wanted to be away from home.

I think one of the main reasons why I joined the shloka class was because you were going. How though you wanted me to join you and S & P, you never forced me into it and made me make my own decisions.

I don’t think I will ever forget how you and S cajoled me into visiting Kallidaikuruchi (in the heart of Tamil Nadu) with you once. S and I had so much fun together and that holiday has been etched into my memory. How I got special treatment from your brother, mami just because they knew how fond of me you were. How welcome they made me feel inspite of me visiting them for the first time and staying with them for nearly 2 weeks. I got preferential treatment, much to S’s dismay.

I did hear about your bypass surgery, how well you had recovered, how you had insisted on helping out S when you had recovered sufficiently. You were, of course, in my prayers during all those times – I honestly wish I had made more an effort to come and visit you after your surgery.

Look at the guidance I received in my email today –

“ No one is more wonderful than a mother. And there is nothing more noble than a mother's heart. I hope you will all treasure your mothers. Truly praiseworthy are those who have a sense of gratitude and appreciation toward their parents. The Buddhist sutras teach that the practice of Buddhism is the ultimate expression of devotion to one's parents, and the Buddha excels in such dedication and concern.”

My mother often used to joke that if ever something happened to her, she knew that I would go and live with you over any of my own relatives. And you know what, she was right.

Rest in peace Aunty Uma.

Lots of love
Me

Restraint

2008-05-02T14:45:00.001+01:00

I am learning restraint and it’s hard.

I have been an impulsive person all my life and this is exceptionally difficult for me. It does not come naturally to me at all.

But I am determined to. I stand to lose out much more if I don’t. And I am not prepared to do that.

Bell-Puri

2008-04-25T15:54:00.001+01:00

I had this incredible craving to eat bhel puri during lunch time yesterday. I just can’t explain it – I love my food but I rarely get food cravings for anything except chaat. Considering that I work in the city and there are hardly any places which do such food, I had to contend with Tiffin Bites.

I went in all excited and keen to sample their ware. I went up to the counter and asked for a bhel. I probably should have got an inkling of things to come when the girl at the till did not quite follow me. I pronounced it with an emphasis on the “B” as anyone who knows Hindi, will follow what I am saying. She, of course, did not understand and called her colleague at an adjacent till. He did not have a clue either and looked at me rather blankly. They then went and got the chef (well, chef is rather a fancy title because his culinary skills on the job are limited to re-heating the naan bread) and he did not have a clue either. This during peak lunch time and I can sense the growing irritation of the suit-clad city types behind me. But neither in a mood to give up nor in a mood to see sense, I persevere with my pronunciation of bhel. Finally, till-lady gets me the menu and asks me to point to the item I want and when I do, her sense of relief is visible. She then says ‘oh you want bell’, as in the very English-sounding word BELL, with no emphasis whatsoever on the B…..I know I know, warning bells should have gone loud and clear now, but well, you know the rest..

I then gave her instructions to make it spicier than normal and paid. The Bhel looked attractive enough and I couldn’t wait to try it. A spoonful and I have to say I was so so disappointed. It was a crunchy concoction of various atypical ingredients thrown together (not even all of it kurmura and sev, standard bhel ingredients but more poha than kurmura) topped with green chutney !!!!! The tamarind chutney they used was authentic, no doubt but the whole dish was far far below normal. Even the Haldiram’s readymade bhel pack is far superior to the trash they dished out there. So my quest for a good chaat place still continues.

N – please don’t say ‘I told you so’.

Riddle-me-Ree, Who can she be?

2008-04-23T22:30:00.001+01:00

Greetings wonderful MTBs!!!
and good work to all of you!
For having solved the riddle before
I give you all this clue.

The letter " W "

Write it down, add it on...
. And let’s move on to the next little song

“A tattoo she does don
Momos in chilli sauce she feasts upon
Symmetry is harmony
Brownies are right on the money
It takes but a good eye
To spot a well dressed guy
Who is she?”

Solve it and you get your lead
Misguess, and you lose your speed
Solve it slow but solve it now
And before you go, take a little bow

Go to 'Comments' and leave me a clue
Tell me which blog you are off to.
Good luck! Good luck! Be on your way.
You have your work, cut out for the day!

British Rani

2008-04-23T14:50:00.000+01:00

The little one woke up at 3.00 AM this morning, crying in discomfort. Patting her back to sleep did not help at all. So I took her out of her crib, held her in my arms and tried to rock her to sleep. No luck. I tried putting her to sleep between calculus and me, which normally settles her down, but no luck today. Thankfully, by this stage calculus had got up and gallantly took charge. I have to say that I love my beauty sleep far too much – so night duties have mostly been Calculus’s domain.

Calculus then took her to the living room so that I could sleep. Of course I did not, keeping an ear to see what he would do to calm her. He played her favourite songs, her DVD footage but she was still uncomfortable. He then thought that maybe her nappy was too wet and so went to change her. In the process, he took off her sleeping bag and lo and behold the little madam was fine. She was just HOT !! After her nappy change, she had a drink of water and then went back to sleep like a good little girl.

The temperature was about 20 degrees Celsius last night – so warm by London standards but nowhere near hot. We had even kept our balcony French window in our bedroom open, but apparently the little one needs lower temperatures. I dread to think what will happen if we visit India in the summer !! British rani is what my parents now call her, after this episode.

Why's of guilt

2008-04-04T17:19:00.000+01:00

• Why is it that each time I go out for dinner or lunch on a weekend without my little one, I feel terribly guilty?
• Why is it that I weigh up every plan of going out a thousand times and more if it means leaving the little one at home?
• Why is that my nap times on weekends ALWAYS coincide with the little one’s?
• Why is it that it gets noticed so much more if I as a mother go out leaving the little one at home?
• Why is it that I feel terribly guilty if someone else feeds her while I sit by watching?
• Why is it that I feel awful for not taking her out as much?
• Why is it that the thought of going away even for a single day no longer sounds inviting? (I used to be crazy about travelling).
• Why is it that I fret endlessly over some of the choices we make which impact her life the most?
• Why is it that I feel guilty even for speaking on the phone with friends at home?
• Why is it that I postpone any non-essential errands for my own self endlessly till there is no other way out than to fix it? (for instance changing my watch strap and battery)

Childcare Options..

2008-03-31T18:08:00.001+01:00

I was toying with the title ‘Childcare Woes’ for this post but changed it to ‘Childcare Options’ at the last minute, mainly because its not a woe as yet, I am still exploring options.

We have been really lucky with child care for the little one so far. From the time that she was born (and for the next 6 months), she has always had me or one set of grandparents to look after her. It has been such a big help and such a big relief to know that she is in extremely safe hands. I haven’t had to worry about how she will adjust, how she will be looked after etc because I know that she is going to be really well looked after.

All good things have to come to an end though and in another 5 months or so, we have to explore, research and finalise some form of childcare for her. This will be my parents last stint with us (they arrive next weekend). Of course there will be future visits but I don’t think we can rely on them completely mainly because we need Calculus’s parents to come back to tide us over the winter. They have been here for the last 2 winters now and though they are from Delhi and are used to the cold weather, they don’t want to come back for the winter this year. They might come back next summer, but we still need one set of parents or some sort of childcare for the winter. My parents find winters here quite cold and winter doesn’t particularly suit my mother and her asthma gets aggravated.

I am already quite nervous at the prospect of sending her to childcare. I have been warned by enough people now that she is going to throw terrible tantrums because we have left it quite late to send her to a nursery. I am dreading every bit of it, but then not working is not an option because
• London is way too expensive and we will not be able to manage on one income, unless we move away.
• I certainly don’t have the patience nor am I cut out to stay at home.
• The market being as it is, taking a sabbatical or a break now doesn’t seem very sensible to my mind.

My parents and IL are asking us to send the little one to India with them for the winter. She will alternate between the two grandparents and my parents will bring her back and stay with us when the weather gets warmer and better. Now that is not an option which we are considering because there is no question of doing that. We did not have a child for her to be brought up in another country. I cannot even begin to imagine life without her now.

So childcare it is. We are considering various options – of sending her to a nursery, getting someone to come home and look after her or send her to a childminder. Obviously each one has its own advantages and disadvantages and we are still weighing these out in our own mind.

In theory, I like the idea of a nursery the best. The little one will have plenty of interaction with other children, they engage their minds in creative as well as fun activities, she will meet both adults and other children. One of the problems we face is that I don’t like any of the nurseries in the area that we currently live in and so sending her to one here is not an option. We need to send her to a nursery in a neighbouring area, and have to drive to get there. With the peak morning traffic, it can take anywhere between 10-20 minutes to get there. We need to drive there, find parking which will be tricky, park the car and take the tube to work after dropping the little one. This will easily add an extra 30-45 minutes to our journey.

My biggest concern though is my fear of her picking up infections. Almost everyone that I have spoken to has said that their children have picked up far too many infections from the nursery. The doctors don’t prescribe medication very easily here (that’s assuming I can get an appointment with one of the GPs) and the nurseries don’t allow sick children (understandably) which means taking a lot of holidays to look after her. Considering that we don’t have any support system here, it will have to be either Calculus or me. I have just started a new job, so it will be difficult for me to take holidays, which means Calculus will have to. Some of my friends tell me that they have already exhausted half their annual holiday quota to look after their children (we get 25 days here), which seems quite excessive to me. Not to mention the fact that the little one will be ill, which in itself is rather unpleasant and unnecessary.

The other option is to get someone to come home. I do like this idea too. The probability of her falling sick is lower in this case and at least one of the factors for her remains the same – she is in familiar surroundings, in the midst of her own toys. We also don’t need to get her ready and rush her out of the house each morning wearing multiple layers. The lady we have in mind at the moment has also agreed to do the cooking for us, which though a big advantage is certainly not a deal clincher for me. The downside is that the little one will not have any interaction with other children. We also become heavily dependent on one person for our daycare – I am not sure what happens when the childminder wants to take an extended holiday. We do have a lady Y in mind, who comes highly recommended, but we haven’t discussed this aspect with her as yet. I am also not sure up to what extent Y will be able to engage her in activities. Will Y be able to read to her ? Probably not, but maybe they will develop their own language of communication and she can learn to interact with other children when she goes to school. She is a fairly social child, smiles at most people and happily go with them too, so I am not unduly worried if she doesn’t get to interact with other children.

The third option that we have is to send her to a registered childminder’s house. I think this is halfway between the two options. She will get to interact with other children but the other disadvantages of the nursery option still hold. We may still need to drive to get there, she may still be susceptible to infections, we need to research this area more than the other two mainly because I already have done groundwork on the other two.

At the end of the day, nothing can be the same as having grandparents at home and its unfair to compare childcare to that. As long as the little one is content, happy, active and engaged in activities, then I will be overjoyed. What are your views on this, dear readers, parents, non-parents, lurkers please delurk and share your thoughts and reasons behind them. A fresh pair of eyes always gives a new perspective to any problem and there may be something very important that I may have overlooked completely.

Mother - Part 2

2008-03-30T16:49:00.001+01:00

Part 1 is here.

So began the next stage of her adventure. She bought this house and her family joined her once she received possession. My uncle was still in college then and he came to Bombay and joined XIth in one of the colleges close to home. My mother obviously funded his education all through college. One of the big advantages of the house was that it was much closer to work and so travelling to work for her became much easier. Money was still fairly tight as she had her house loan to pay off, along with all the other household expenditure. Yet the big difference now was that they had a secure roof over their head and the means to have regular meals.

Slowly but surely, my grandmother started prodding her about marriage. By this time, she was fairly well known back in the village where she came from and also within our community and so there were no dearth of proposals. One of the big problems was that my grandparents did not know anybody in our community living in Bombay and so anyone agreeing to the match would have to move to Bombay. Such a move was a bit tricky in those times because it meant breaking away from tradition, in a society where the girl traditionally went to live with the boy. So though from a work opportunity point of view, it was more attractive, from a cultural point of view, it was hard getting someone to agree to those terms.

They found my dad’s proposal through some common friends. To his credit, my father, a commerce graduate left his tiny little village and came to Bombay after they were married without a job in hand. Again it may not be a big deal now, but in those times it certainly was. He came to Bombay to live with my mother, her parents and brother in the house that she owned. I certainly don’t know his reasons to date – my father is not the sort of person who will talk about such things and I certainly don’t have the skill to elicit such information from him. He came, settled down and soon found a job in a bank, which matched his education quite closely. He walked to work, could come home for lunch everyday and had quite a peaceful life. He got quite close to my uncle, but never liked my grandparents very much from the start. He always thought that my grandparents were very lazy and that they were taking advantage of my mother.

Anyway life continued and my uncle joined a 2-year bachelor’s course in Science, quite disappointed that he had not managed to get into medicine. However, after finishing an year, he decided to apply for medicine again and managed to get through this time. My mother was very supportive of his decision, paid for his medical degree and pretty much let him do whatever he pleased.

My sister was born in the midst of my uncle’s medical degree and became his favourite niece, which she is to this day. Because my grandparents lived with my mother, she worked almost through the end. Maternity leave was not so generous during those days and so my mother had to go back to work quite soon after. Fortunately, she had a good support system at home.

After finishing off his medical degree, my uncle worked as a lecturer in one of the medical colleges in Bombay for about an year or so. One of his friends told him about doctor’s jobs in the UK, applied for one and got one. My uncle left for UK in December 1976, with my mother paying a substantial part of his airfare, visa fees etc. He regularly came back for visits and my mother started looking around for a match for him too. Not once did he protest, but went along with it and saw a lot of girls, always finding some excuse. In spite of this, my mother persevered and arranged for him to meet girls every year that he came down. Guess he had a good reason, if only he had told my mother about it.

My brother and I were born (in that order) after my uncle left for the UK. My father wasn’t too happy with my birth, at the fact that it was another girl and a dark one at that !! Just after my brother was born, my parents moved to the campus where my mother worked. I think this was one of the best decisions they ever made. The colony (at least in those days, not any more) was green, spacious, serene, calm, peaceful and was the perfect place to grow up for us children. Our school was a stone’s throw away from our house, we had great friends growing up and it was just such a protective, unspoilt perfect environment.

I will never forget that day on a summer evening when I came back home after playing downstairs to find my grandparents and mother crying in the presence of two ladies whom I had not met before and a child at home. There was a sense of urgency in my mother’s voice as she asked me to go and look for my brother and sister, who were playing downstairs and bring them home. Just as I was about to leave, my grandma told me that my mama had married without our knowledge and I remember asking if my uncle had married both of them !!

We later found out that my uncle had married my aunt before he left for the UK, without saying a word to anybody at home. My aunt had even visited my house just before she left for the UK to join my uncle as a friend of my uncle’s, offering to carry foodstuffs and other knick-knacks for him, without anybody at home suspecting anything. What I found disturbing then and still do is the fact that not only did my uncle not have the decency to confide in my mother or tell her soon after the wedding, he only told them after my cousin was born (a good 6 years after his wedding and over an year after my cousin’s birth). I don’t think my mother has ever forgiven my uncle for not giving her a chance and rightly so too. My mother is fairly liberal and modern and I am positive that she would have spoken to my grandparents about it to convince them. My uncle was probably paranoid that the family would not accept my aunt because she was a Christian, but then he never gave my mother a chance. Don’t get me wrong – my aunt is a wonderful lady, gets on very well with the family but my uncle showed his spineless self then and I don’t think my mother can ever forget that episode (and rightly so too), though she has definitely forgiven him. My father, on the other hand, never forgave my uncle and their relationship went from them being really close to one of formality.

Yet the thing which strikes me most is the difference in attitudes which can manifest in people irrespective of the same circumstances, upbringing, and parenting. My mother talks about her bad days, yet she never feels sorry for herself or her situation. She takes courage from the fact that she has overcome all that to be where she is now. But my uncle, on the other hand, constantly moans about how he had just 2 pairs of shirts and 2 trousers during his childhood and how he never had enough money. He never loses a chance to talk about it to anyone willing to listen. And almost as if to make up for it, he buys clothes like there is no tomorrow. At last count, he had more than 35 unused shirts in his wardrobe, yet he cannot stop buying. It has almost become an addiction. He moans and moans about how overworked he is and how underpaid he is, which is a big joke considering that he is a GP in this country (who have such a sweet deal that I cannot believe that he is complaining). That’s just two examples – I can give millions more.

More in the next post.

Best Friends..

2008-03-29T06:46:00.001Z

The MM wrote a wonderful post a while ago about best friends. It struck a chord with me on so many different levels and it took me a long time for me to assimilate my thoughts on the subject. I also realized that I have not written many posts about my friends, who constitute such an important part of my life, so I thought I would remedy that. My mother often used to say that my friends were far more important to me than my own family. She probably said it during my rebellious, angst filled teenage years, but in hindsight I think she probably had a fair point.

I have never had a best friend. The words ‘best friend’ itself sound extremely childish and corny to me. I much prefer the tem ‘close friend’ or ‘closest friend’. I have always wanted to be a part of a ‘twin club’ – where you take both the twins names in the same breath, they spend a lot of time together, tell each everything, you get the picture. All through school, I always had a bunch of extremely close friends but I was never an exclusive close friend to anyone. Even today when we refer to those school pairs, two names go hand in hand – like R and C, G and R or else B and V. But sadly I never had a twin in school. I have many close school friends (and some of them read this blog too) but no single friend from all those days who was exclusive to me.

Having a brother an year and a half older to me meant that all his friends were my friends. My brother used to refuse to let me play with him and his friends because I was a girl and because I wore a frock (his reasoning, not mine!!). So I would run home, change into one of his shorts and shirts and proclaim to have become a boy instantly so that I could play with his friends. It wasn’t as if there were a dearth of girls in my building – there were loads, it was just that his friends always seemed way cooler and so much more appealing to me (at least in our building in those days, girls and boys playing together was a strict No-No). My brother’s friends (many of whom were my raakhi brothers) would have absolutely no problem playing with me, it was just him. My brother could not fault my clothes logic and eventually he would let me play with them. So for many years, I never played with girls, wore only shirts and shorts and played with boys. And by the time, I had graduated into wearing frocks and started playing with girls in my building, the pairs were already formed. So again though I had many close friends, I never had an exclusive best friend.

During college, I made the really foolish decision of not staying in a hostel. All the girls in my class turned out to be the maha goody-good types (nothing wrong with that, but just somehow did not get on with them), would never bunk a lecture, would talk all day in Marathi (which I could follow but not speak very well) and so I was the odd one out. They were really helpful and friendly, but just not my type. I am in touch with just one of them now, which is so atypical for me because I take great pains to keep in touch with my friends. I had a couple of good friends who were boys from my college who I used to hang around with all the time, but over the years we have drifted apart.

After my graduation, I joined a company based in Bombay. Eleven of us joined the company at the same time and we were sent to Hyderabad for a 6 month training stint, all expenses paid. The people I met in this group were wonderful, vibrant, intense, from diverse backgrounds, and I don’t think I have ever had more fun with a group of friends than I did with this group. We were young, carefree with no responsibilities, living in a hotel in a city away from home, which probably contributed to a great extent for us to become really close-knit. They are my friends for life but we have all scattered all over the globe now busy with our own lives, as it often happens. I am in touch with some of them, mostly birthday/anniversary/new year emails kind of touch, which is just not satisfying.

I made some wonderful friends after moving to this country, though it took me 5 long years. Yet distance has become a factor again here because most of them are based in South Wales.

A friend who does not fall into any of the categories above, and whom I met through a music group that I was involved with in Bombay, became my closest friend and still is. We did not interact much with each other but kept in touch and somehow I think it was meant to be. We are quite similar in our ways, thoughts, deeds – sometimes I think we were twins separated at birth in the ‘kumbh mela’ types. We have gone through lots of ups and downs together, share an incredible amount of our lives with each other even today. She has been there for me over the years and actually flew down to spend time with me from across the pond, during my darkest days, which I can never forget. I often wish that we lived in the same neighbourhood or city or country or continent in that order. Because what I would ideally want is to be able to at least speak to her everyday or every other day (something like what you have Pr - with S in Florida), want her to be a big part of my daughters life, for our children to play together, which is just not possible with our physical locations being as they are.

I firmly believe that its not always the circumstances which shape people and their lives, it’s people and their attitude which contribute largely to shaping how their life turns out. I was quite a secretive person and was out to please the whole world when I was younger, always worrying about what the other person would say/think to anything that I do, which in turn meant that I could not open up to anybody. Obviously over the years I have learnt that more often than not, people don’t give a damn anyways. ‘Kuch to log kehenge, logon ka kaam hai kehna’ often comes to my mind these days when I think of how naïve I was. That’s probably one of the contributing factors to why I never had a single confidant.

Another thing which I find is that most of my friends don’t seem to want to be in touch the way I want to – I could be completely wrong as this is an assumption I am making. They don’t seem to have the same intensity or almost a sense of urgency to be in touch as I want to. I am not sure if I am asking the moon, but I just want to be in daily or at least bi/thri-weekly contact with my close friends and know what’s happening with them. Because I firmly believe that when there is a will to do that, then you make time irrespective of how busy you are or how many children you have. I am a very impulsive person, am fairly impatient and would like to hear from my friends almost every day, even if it’s just a few words or lines. Given this, I normally don’t have the patience to wait for people to write to me, so I end up writing anyway. Why is it a big deal ? Well it isn’t, but sometimes it’s just nicer to be at the receiving end and feel a bit more valued.

Pride and Joy

2008-03-27T17:20:00.001Z

We had one of those “OH MY GOD !! Our baby is a genius moment” last night. This is one of those posts where I am probably going to write about mundane things my little one did, yet for us it was a big step, because it was our first – we have a genius daughter moment. Consider yourself warned.

I was chanting in our bedroom last night and as soon as she heard me, the little one came rushing into the room to sit beside me. Each time I chant, I have beads in my hand, which are of course optional but I like to use them. I have two sets of beads, which I have to hand over promptly to the little one as soon as she enters the room, else she will bring the roof down with her ‘AAA’, ‘AAAA’. So last night, while I started chanting she came to my room, saw that I was chanting and immediately went over to the living room. She purposefully marched back soon after with the beads in her hand. She had hidden them in the living room (another game that she plays now) that morning. What we were amazed with was that she had remembered where she had kept them that morning and it only took her a split second to realize that and go and fetch it. I know, I know its not a big deal, but for us first-time parents, it sure was a “we have produced a prodigy moment”.

She points to exactly what she wants to eat on our plate and will not settle for anything different. Last night she was trying to tell Calculus that she wanted some water to drink with her one-word-for-communicating-everything – ‘AAA’. It was her milk time and he kept giving her the milk bottle but she was having none of it. Finally, in sheer desperation, guessing that her father is not going to interpret her instructions correctly, she gets down from his lap, walks over to the dining table (which is no easy feat once she is all buttoned up in her sleeping bag), fetches the bottle of water and hands it over to him. She was clearly thirsty because she finished that entire bottle and had some more water too.

She has also mastered the game of finding the shapes and seems to love it. She has this lift-out puzzle with different shapes on it. So the game is we take all the shapes, keep them upside down and ask her to hand us a particular shape. In pure theatrical style, she hovers her arm over the shapes, move it about a bit, swoops for the shape we ask her for and then hands it over with a big smile. Genius or what !!

Easter Weekend

2008-03-24T16:19:00.004Z

I cant believe that the four-day weekend has almost come to an end. I wonder where it went - why does time fly when you are having a good time ?

We did not do much, in the end. I had big plans to catch up with 3 people I have been meaning to catch up for a really long time now, but managed none in the end. One of them was not in my hands - because my friend's child was not well, but the rest were and yet I did not manage to meet up with them. The weather wasnt great - it was just the kind of weather to sit at home, snuggle under the covers with a good book and a hot, steaming cup of chai. We had some snow flurries but not bad enough for the ground to be covered in snow. It was fun all the same, sitting and watching snow fall from our terrace.

I also found out this weekend that one of my friends is moving away to a far, cold place not too far in the future. I have not known her for too long now, yet I was really hit hard by it. I feel close to her on many different levels, but I know for a fact that she doesnt, yet I havent been able to take my mind away from the fact that she is moving so far away and so soon at that. Calculus is probably sick and tired of hearing about this topic - I have been going on and on about it.

On Friday, we ventured out to take the little one to a city farm, not far from our house, to show her some animals, but unfortunately the farm was closed. Since she was asleep in the car by that time, we managed to finish off our grocery shopping.

On Saturday, we went to a shopping centre as the weather was not too good to go anywhere outdoors. Since this shopping centre was covered, we decided to go there. The little one had a blast - she was keenly observing all the people milling about, fascinated with the crowds. She seemed to love it and was content sitting in her stationary pram and observing people walking about. She walked around quite a bit too, holding mine and Calculus's hand. She has to take almost 3-4 steps for every single step that we take, so its slow going but still great fun. She also loved the ELC - from where we have bought a lot of toys for her. She kept pointing to the ones she had at home and was running around, picking up things, sitting on the floor, playing with them. Kids are great in that sense, they have absolutely no inhibitions.

Sunday and Monday were spent at home, lounging about, watching old video footage of the little one. Shehas come such a long way. From her taking hesitant little steps, holding on to the sofa for support, she literally runs now. Climbing on to the sofa is so effortless now and she is becoming so much more independent in different ways. She wants to eat on her own, eats more, is so much more interactive, mischievious and playful.

Time for vegetable cutlets (which are my FIL's signature dish) and a hot, cup of chai. See you on the other side.

Labour of love

2008-03-21T14:48:00.004Z

These dudhi/ghia koftas is one of Calculus's favorite dishes and his mother makes it often. Its real hard work but awesome, specially when someone else has done all the hard work.

Dudhi-koftas (makes about 18-19 koftas, about the size of a small lemon)

Ingredients (for the gravy)
Cinnamon stick – a small piece
Cloves – 3-4
Elaichi = 3-4
Cashewnuts – 2-3
Ginger – a 2 inch piece (roughly) finely cut
Garlic – 2-3 pods
Tomatoes – 2 finely chopped
Onions – 1 medium size finely chopped
Dhania powder, garam masala and chilli powder

Ingredients (for the koftas)
Besan or gram flour – 2 tablespoons
Breadcrumbs to coat the koftas
2 dudhis - grated

For the koftas

1. Grate the dudhis and squeeze to remove all water. Keep this water aside to use while making rotis. You have to squeeze more than once to remove all the water.
2. Take a pan and roast the grated dudhi without oil to remove any water which may remain.
3. Make small lemon sized balls of the dudhi.
4. Mix the besan in water with enough water to make it of a creamy consistency. Ensure that there are no lumps in the besan while doing this.
5. Dip the lemon-sized balls of dudhi in the besan and coat with a breadcrumb layer.
6. Deep fry these in oil and keep aside. If there is excess water in the dudhi balls, they will disintegrate, so it is important to remove all traces of water.

For the gravy
1. In a pan, add cinnamon, elaichi, cloves and fry lightly in oil (a tablespoon). Once the spices give out their aroma, add the finely chopped ginger and garlic. Roast till golden brown.
2. Add the chopped onions. Roast till golden brown.
3. Add the chopped tomatoes and keep stirring till oil separates from the tomatoes.
4. Cool and grind in mixer till it is a smooth paste.
5. In a pan, add some oil and add this ground paste. Add chilli powder, dhania powder and some garam masala.
6. Add water (about a mug) and let it boil nicely.
7. Add salt to taste and let it simmer for about 5 minutes.
8. Add koftas and let it boil for about a couple of minutes.
9. Garnish with coriander and serve hot with puris or chapatis.

Tag of 8 - with a twist

2008-03-14T15:22:00.003Z

This is the little one writing. Wow - my very first tag on the blogosphere. I certainly have arrived on the scene, thanks Anirudh for tagging me.

8 Things I am passionate about:
1. Music of all kinds. My current favourites include Rangapura vihara and Vithoba Chala. Have to listen to it each time the computer is switched on.
2. Papad. Give me a papad and I can be coerced into most things.
3. My mother’s chanting beads.
4. My mother’s maama’s photo, which she has written about here. He just makes the cutest noises and plays with me constantly when he is visiting.
5. Pogo Puppy and Dillion Donkey, two of my farm animal characters. I don’t why mum and dad bought all those other ones, these are just the cutest.
6. The family singing nursery rhymes to me, dancing about and making a fool of themselves each time.
7. My food. I have to eat what the adults eat from their plates, just to make sure they don’t fool me with some tasteless baby food.
8. My soft cloth cubes. I take them all over the house.

8 Things I do that drives Mama crazy

This list was really hard for me to compile since I am such a well behaved child. I had to really rack my brains to come up with this list.
1. Keep doing ‘aa aa aa’ till I get what I want. Of course, many times she doesn’t give in so easily as say tatha. Tatha is a real softie.
2. Throw my toys instead of giving them in mummy’s hand, in spite of being told not to do so repeatedly.
3. Cry for a couple of seconds before she changes my nappy.
4. Refusing to brush my teeth.
5. Keep throwing anything that I can lay my hands on when I sit on my high-chair.
6. Eat paper. It’s so tasty, wonder why they don’t let me eat it. I think they have never tasted it, so they don’t know as yet what they are missing out on.
7. Touch mama’s spectacles, though I don’t do it very often these days. Why take panga faltu me with mama ?
8. Continue playing and being cranky when I am dead tired and cant keep my eyes open.

8 Things I say often:
1. Tatha
2. Mmmm, ammma
3. Aaaa aaa
4. Aaaa jum
5. AAAA (annoyed tone)

As you can see, I am a girl of few words.

8 Books I've read recently:
1. Moon book
2. Sun book
3. Maisy big, Maisy Small
4. Dora’s Christmas Party
5. Going on a bear hunt
6. Kitty the kitten
7. My first book of A,B,C
8. My first book of nursery rhymes

8 songs I can (and do!) listen to over and over:
1. Rangapura Vihara
2. Vithoba Chala
3. Any of the fast numbers they play on Music India. None of those old, slow numbers for me.
4. Any ad jingle, any theme music for say news, serials etc.
As you can see I am quite non-fussy as yet when it comes to my music.
8 Things that make me me:
1. Looking at a mug which has my picture on it and saying ‘HAAAA’ time, with an emphasis on the H.
2. Doing my own sweet little dance number.
3. Refusing to go to the bathroom to get my nappy changed. I have to cry each time for a couple of seconds.
4. Sit next to mummy, immersed with my beads and book while she chants.
5. Touch something which I know I am not supposed to, look at mummy or daddy and give a sweet, shy smile to see if I can get away with it.
6. When I refuse to eat my food from my bowl, even though it’s exactly the same thing as everyone if eating. I would rather eat from their plates, thank you very much.
7. When the first thing that I do is to strew toys all over the living room as soon as my father or tatha has finished vacuuming.
8. When I jump around the bed and play each evening with my parents and grandparents sitting around me in my grandparents bed after dinner. And how ever so often I go to the side where mummy is sitting to check if she is still there. Its fun only at that time of the night and only when everybody else is sitting around and making a fuss of me.

Update on the little one

2008-03-13T17:19:00.001Z

It has been a really long time since I wrote a post about the little one. I have been meaning to write one for her birthday but it has been more than two months since she turned 1 and I have not done it so far.

One of the things which I really regret is not blogging during my pregnancy. It would have been so nice to read all about it now. Use hindsight to establish how things could have been done differently. Anyway I digress.

My little baby girl is no longer a baby; she is a toddler in the real sense of the word. I remember reading somewhere that the minute your baby starts walking, she is no longer a baby, but a toddler. Children adapt so much better than us adults – she was cruising along comfortably and one day about a month or so before her birthday, she took her first steps and there was no looking back from there. She instantly transformed herself into a toddler, while I still have trouble accepting that she is no longer a baby.

She has literally started running around now and is much more fun to play with. She has been playing hide and seek, catch me while I run and all those toddler games for a while now. We literally need eyes behind our head now because she follows us everywhere. She is really quick too, so she comes running behind.

She follows everything that we say now, in both English as well as Tamil. She knows most of her toy characters and will hand it over one by one if you ask her for it. She has still not started talking more than a few words and no appa as yet, so calculus is still waiting. He patiently tries to teach her everyday, only for her to say amma or tatha.

Her grandmother has taught her how to dance now. So if you ask her to dance, she does this awfully sweet routine of turning round and round, moving her arms around if she is in a good mood. She has a real mischievous grin on her face while she does this little twirl and will then come running into your arms. Great fun.

She has started eating all the food which we eat. It’s a real benefit, because we don’t need to make anything separately for her anymore. She loves her spice, sometimes eating more spice than what Calculus can. She definitely doesn’t have a sweet tooth though, and eats JUST the desserts which I like. Calculus is rather pleased secretly, he says more for him !! Typical man. So far she has proven to be quite a non-fussy eater, eating all the vegetables that we have given her. I just hope it lasts this way. She loves rotis and paranthas.

Her all-time favourite food has to be papad though. Give her a piece of papad and she is lost to the world. She will sit on her high chair without a fuss, break her papad into tiny pieces and not leave even a miniscule particle. In fact the last time I gave her a haircut (because she absolutely bawled at the parlour and did not let the hairdresser touch her), we gave her a piece of papad and she remained mostly still.

She absolutely loves my chanting. While I chant, she has to sit beside me. Nothing else matters for her at that time, not even going out, which is saying a lot. She will play with my beads, a piece of paper, a pen, and my writing books keep her occupied for hours. In fact on weekends, sometimes if I am too lazy to chant, she will demand to be taken to my altar and will not stop crying till I chant. She has heard a lot of it while I was pregnant and maybe it soothes and calms her. It truly is amazing how much they pick up from being inside your womb.

She indicates what she wants to eat quite clearly. She has been doing it for a while now and has a clear hierarchy of things to eat. For instance, she will demand to be taken to the kitchen, ask for rotis first and if we show her the empty casserole, her next choice is toast. If there is no bread then she will ask for a biscuit. Her vocabulary is limited to mostly one word – ‘aaa’ but with that she is able to communicate most of what she wants quite clearly.

Last night for instance, we were all sitting in the living room and she was seated on my lap. I was singing ‘Five little ducks’ to her and as soon as Calculus joined in, she pointed to him and said ‘aaa’. Then she points to me and says ‘aaa’. What she was trying to say was that calculus should not join in and as soon as he stopped singing with me, she was fine.

She loves being read to and we read regularly to her. She knows most of her books now and as soon as we near the end, she goes ‘aaa’, which means we have to start all over. She also remembers peculiarities of each book, for instance, in one of her books, the character goes to sleep in her soft white bed and there is a headboard detail on the book, which is soft. So the first time, I read it I took her hand and made her touch it to let her feel it. Now each time we reach that page, she will force you to hold her hand and make her touch that.

She climbs over the sofa, bed, any surface that’s worth scaling. Now if only she would learn to not squirm so much once she is up on the sofa.. !!

Like most other children, she hates the word ‘no’. She whines, moans and cries till we give in. I mostly try and divert her attention, but sometimes that is futile too. Also she knows certain things like the TV remote, my spectacles for instance are off limits, yet sometimes she will touch it ever so gently and then look up to you and give this sweet smile to try and woo you over. And it’s bloody hard to keep a straight face and carry on with the whole act. I always feel like just giving in because her smile is so worth it, only to catch myself in the nick of time.

She has this fascination for my mama. Since he is the country, he visits once every couple of weeks, pampers her no end, carries her everywhere and gives in to everything that she asks for. He adores children and it clearly shows. We show the little one a set of photos that we have printed out because she likes to see them and each time we get to the photo of my mama, her face lights up like a thousand watt bulb and she points to him. She will patiently wait through the entire set of photographs for just that one photo.

More than anything else though, the feeling that she has grown up so so quickly is one which comes to my mind very often. Its just yesterday that I was pregnant, where has the last year and a bit gone. Reading about other pregnancies, births makes me feel maternal in a way I have never felt before and the yearning for another child grows stronger and stronger each day.

Happy Mother's day

2008-03-06T18:03:00.000Z

Phew !! This is my 100th post. And I want to use this special milestone to write about my mother, who has been the single biggest influence in my life so far.
I have been meaning to write a post about my mother on this blog for nearly a year now. I wanted to write something for her for Mother’s day last year but never got around to doing it. I do hope that I can get around to finishing this in time for this year’s Mothers day. (not too bad considering I am just 4 days late).

Like every child who thinks that their mother is THE best, I am no different. I think that my mother is an incredible woman, has endured immense hardship and a very large part of who I am today is because of her. I have always viewed her as an absolutely amazing and spirited woman. When a friend recently pointed out that she thought that there was something remarkable about my mother after meeting her for just a few hours, I was pleasantly surprised and secretly thrilled to bits.

My mother is one of those women who had quite a hard childhood. My maternal grandfather, though educated was not cut-out for keeping a steady job and had extended periods of unemployment during his working life. My maternal grandmother was a house-wife and unfortunately was not very worldly-wise or street-smart, so their combination was a potentially lethal one. My mother and her younger sibling – my uncle who I have written about here – were the ones who bore the brunt of such a life. The family often went without food, in spite of having rich relatives who refused to help them. My mother frequently studied under street lamps as they did not have electricity in their house.

My mother was an exceptional student all through school and survived pretty much on scholarships. She often ‘earned’ enough to pay her tuition fees and buy food for her family.

My grandmother was quite liberal in allowing her to study, considering they lived in a small town in the south of India, where girls attending school beyond Std X was quite uncommon. But my grandmother was a strange mix of being liberal and traditional at the same time – she was one of those women who practically lived in the temple and did not do much around the house (which was a big deal, considering she was the sole parent around). So in addition to her studies, my mother looked after the house too – cleaning and cooking for her family from a young age. She used to tell us that she used to wake up really early in the morning, finish off her cooking and then walk an hour to school. In spite of this, she excelled at school and consistently topped her school. She even got double-promotions twice, which means she finished high school two years earlier than she should have.

My mother told me that many a times they had only a single meal to eat and she can remember so many nights when the family had to go to bed hungry. That’s probably one of the main reasons why my mother used to get really really annoyed with us siblings if we wasted any food. Considering that she never shouted or hit us ever for anything else, it has stayed with us and to this day, I try my best to not waste food.

She went to college to study physics and was probably one of the few women in the community to so do. Some of the village bigwigs sponsored her college education and she won a scholarship too, so they had food to keep them going, even though it was a hard life. After finishing college with an integrated masters degree in physics, she started teaching in a small college in Kerala. I don’t know to this day (and neither does my mother !) why she applied for a job in Bombay, in spite of already having a job. In any case, she applied for a training position with one of the most reputed scientific institutions (and probably still is) in the country at the time and was accepted. She joined the second batch of trainees and left for Bombay alone at the young age of 19.

This journey of hers has to be put into context to comprehend the enormity of it all. She was a young, unmarried woman, about to live all alone in a big city away from her family, still fairly poor, unsure of where she would live – yet she undertook that journey. My mother tells me that her employer did not have any suitable accommodation for women at that time and so she stayed in a women’s hostel, about an hour away from work, which in itself presented problems related to travel etc. She somehow survived those difficult years, having to fight her own battles within the hostel too.

The warden of her hostel was a horrible woman and she had some weird rules for running the place. One instance which she often told us about was a fire in her hostel one night. All the girls ran out of their rooms to run to safety, only to discover that the warden had locked them in. She apparently did this every night, but since the girls were probably too scared to venture out on their own at nights anyway, they did not discover this until the fateful night. My mother then called the fire department to tell them about this and probably because they were next to a police station or pure providence, the fire engine arrived on time, managing to rescue all the girls unharmed. Things probably got a little better for them after that incident, but I don’t think my mother ever got over her loneliness during that time. She did not have any family around, just family friends whom she had heard about (because they were from the same community) and in them she found some great company. She remembers them very fondly even today; they welcomed her into their small, overcrowded home and always treated her very nicely. Our family, including me and my siblings are still quite close to them and always make it a point to visit them when we are home.

Considering this was the late 50s, my mother’s colleagues were not used to have a woman in their midst either. So they hardly ever spoke to her and were unsure of how to treat her. Yet she persevered, made an effort to speak to them and slowly but surely made slow progress. They eventually started talking to her more, became her friends for life, stood by her in some really tough times and gave her some great advice.

My grandmother and uncle, in the meantime were still living in Kerala, managing on the money my mother regularly sent them. But there was not much point in running two separate households and also my mother felt quite lonely living on her own. So my grandmother and uncle decided to come to Bombay with my grandfather joining them whenever he was not touring. Obviously because my mother was living in a women’s hostel, her family could not live with her and so she started house-hunting. My mother tells me that nobody in Bombay was willing to rent out a house/flat to a single lady at that time and no amount of telling them that she was to be joined by her mother soon would convince them. In the meantime, one of her colleagues was buying a housing society house and he casually mentioned to my mother that she should buy one too. When my mother told them that she did not have any savings to pay for the deposit, her colleague was the one who lent her the money. And so it came to be that my mother – a single, young, unmarried (which was a big thing in those days), village-girl who had never stayed, let alone owned, in a single house during her childhood days without the fear of being kicked out due to the rental payments being overdue, bought her own house in Bombay in the early 60s. I think her colleagues really gave her some sound advice then and my parents still live in that house today.

This is just part 1. I have many more parts to write, but it’s incredibly difficult for me to write these because it takes a lot out of me. I will do so slowly though. Happy Mother’s Day, mum.

Yet Another tag...

2008-03-04T17:19:00.002Z

I found this tag quite interesting and since Broom did not tag me  , I am going to tag myself.

Ten Things You Wish You Could Say To People Right Now (names withheld)
1. I wish I could speak with you more often.
2. I wish you would write more often.
3. I really wish we were closer and that you shared more of your life with me.
4. Don’t make me feel so excluded all the time.
5. I wish your life had not turned out as it did and that you had more material comforts.
6. Study – sort out in your head what you want to do.
7. Don’t worry so much about everything. Take the chill pill.
8. Heartfelt apologies – you certainly did not deserve that.
9. I am positive that things will fall in place for you soon enough. Don’t ask me how I know but I do, so just enjoy your break.
10. I wish you had treated my mother with more dignity and respect.

Nine Things About Yourself
1. I love gadgets, especially ipods.
2. I am very much a people person and love being surrounded by loads of people.
3. I am indecisive.
4. I am vegetarian, but am debating if I should start eating chicken to have more choice.
5. I thrive and work best under tight deadlines.
6. I never worked in my field of study. Not a single day.
7. I am the youngest and am the spoilt brat of the family.
8. I am an atheist, but have found my faith which is in tune with a lot of my beliefs.
9. I have never watched more than one movie at a time in a cinema and would love to do so.

Eight Ways To Win Your Heart
1. Make me laugh.
2. Buy me an itouch or apple products, or work in Apple
3. Buy me flowers.
4. Be impulsive and spontaneous.
5. Pamper me – a massage, manicure, the works.
6. Be able to write beautifully.
7. Be intelligent to have a stimulating conversation.
8. Express your love with thoughtful gestures.

Seven Things That Cross Your Mind A Lot
1. If only there an easy way to get fit.
2. When will we own our own place?
3. If we will have another baby.
4. If we will ever feel settled in our jobs.
5. Parents and parents-in-laws’ health.
6. Work harder and also network more.
7. If only I were good enough to sing professionally.

Six Things You Regret
1. Not living in a hostel. Ever.
2. Not inviting my school and college friends home more often.
3. Not having a great relationship with my father.
4. Not being a singer good enough to take it up as a full-time profession.
5. Not being able to follow Urdu fully.
6. Gallivanting around Bombay and returning late enough for my father to shout at my mother for spoiling me, many many times. And for causing immense worry to my mother over it.

Five Turn-Off’s
1. Halitosis
2. ‘Put-on’ accents
3. Haughtiness
4. Conversation interrupters.
5. Me, me, me attitude

Four Turn-On’s
1. Candle-lit meal under the stars.
2. Good after-shave on a clean-shaven face.
3. An awesome dancer, who makes it seem like a piece of cake.
4. Good conversationalist.

Three Things You Want To Do Before You Die
1. Trek to Machu Pichu.
2. Be a great friend to my daughter.
3. Get fitter and run a marathon, trek more.

Two Smileys that Describe You
1. :D
2. ;)

One Confession
1. I am fairly perceptive and infer a lot of things, especially about people.

I would like to tag Chakli, Planethalder, MumbaiGirl and 30in2005 (anything for a Macondo brownie!!).

New Fathers..

2008-03-04T17:17:00.002Z

I have a proud new father of a baby sitting next to me at work now. His baby was born sometime last week and he got back to work this week. All morning he has been proudly showing off his daughter’s pictures to anybody who is willing to see them. It’s rather sweet – I have never been exposed to a new father at work before – and it’s beautiful to see a whole new side of people.
This morning, he came up with “She’s rather advanced for her age” to his colleagues, all of whom I have to point out are men. I know its sweet but I can’t help thinking dude, she is 2-3 days old, how do you know? He has been proudly proclaiming that she sleeps through the night and my cynical self cant help think “Don’t say that aloud !!! Haven’t you heard of the lurking jinx monster?”
Another commented that his baby girl looked like a ‘real baby’. Hmm, so what did you expect her to look like? I obviously can’t say this aloud because I don’t know them well enough as yet, but it sure did bring a smile to my face.

Of saying goodbye..

2008-03-04T17:17:00.001Z

It has been smooth sailing so far. We have a goodbye ritual going for the last couple of months with my daughter, when we leave for work. So whenever Calculus or I leave for work, her grandfather brings her to the stairwell where she waves goodbye to us. She has been doing this happily for the last couple of months. She waits for us to go down exactly two floors, waiting for us to say bye to her from each floor down. But as soon as we are two floors down, she demands to be taken back home, which is all very well. I have been immensely pleased with this ritual and very glad that she has a happy face when we leave to work. Calculus on the other hand, has jokingly said a couple of times that she is far too happy when we go to work. He fears that she is not developing separation anxiety that she should have done so by this stage. And has obviously jinxed our whole sweet ritual, in the process.

Last Friday, as I was leaving to work, she cried and I felt my heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Her little eyes welled up with tears, her tiny face grew all red and she cried liked her heart was breaking. It was gut-wrenching to turn around and head for work as if everything was normal. Of course I knew that the minute she turned and went back home, she would forget about it and get around her day as normal. That she would enjoy and bask in her grandparents’ affection, spread joy and laughter around, and enjoy every minute of her precious childhood.

All day though, I had this nagging feeling of self-doubt if I was doing the right thing by going to work or if I should stay home and protect my little one for as long as I could. For if goodbyes were going to be so difficult each day, then heaven help me.