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PERIODic PAIN

2009-05-28T12:39:00.001+03:00

Today another little girl had to give up a good portion of her freedom.

I don't give a d*** about what the stupid advertisements say -- happy period, indeed! Periods are a pain in the ASS!

I am for all things natural and beautiful, even if it means a bit of an ache here and a pain there. But menstruation? I just don't get it.

Couldn't there have been an easier way of nature communicating our readiness to procreate? Couldn't there have been a simpler way of reaffirming month after month that we are in good health and that our body is functioning the way it's meant to?

I would gladly settle for any of these alternatives – an ugly mole on the left buttock, 2 pimples erupting every 28 days. Or even just plain old stomach cramp for an hour every month; But does it have to be this much of a 'bloody' pain every month.

When I heard of this little one getting her first periods, all that I could think of was giving her a big, long hug as she bids good bye to all things simple... and then I worried about how I would react to my girls going through this. I can't wish this away – after all it's a sign of good health.

I remember my own initiation. In the summer of 1986, soon after my 12-year run as the baby of the family ended (my niece, the first grandchild, made her appearance). I was spending a few days of the vacation at my crazy-funny aunt's house. Unable to control her fit of giggles, she dropped the laundry she was doing -- when she made the 'discovery' -- and rushed her two sons and me into a rickshaw. All that I remember of the 5km-ride home was how hysterically giggly my aunt was.

When my mum explained what the drama was all about, I found little to be amused about.

Yes, at 12 I had no clue what I was in for. Despite growing up in a household of women -- mum, aunts, 3 sisters and a multitude of girl cousins, and studying in an all-girls convent, I was blissfully ignorant of the P word.

And I can't forgive my mum or sisters for not preparing me for this.

I remember early-bloomer friends of mine discussing 'monthlies' the previous year and when I asked them what they were talking about, they pointed out a movie poster at the bus stop. Sly Stallone's First Blood. I made the connect only that summer.

Yes, I was dumb and ignorant! WAS is the keyword here...

I don't let my Periods (however, painful) cramp my style. I still keep with my routine. But WE (I and every other woman) have earned the right to be ill-tempered about it, and crib to our heart's content.

It's just not about 'chums' (why such a benign monicker for something so mean?), it's about everything that goes with it.

The bleeding, the cramps, the crankiness, the embarassment of a stained skirt on a public bus or watching the Carefree advert on telly with your boy cousins and wishing you could disappear!

The breasts, rounding your shoulders in the hope of making it less evident, and frustration that it doesn't work; the lecherous stares, the bras, straps biting into your shoulders, the tenderness, the hormones, the acne...

Yes, guys have their pubescent woes too... but why does ours have to be so much more 'out there' for all to see? Just when we think we are done with this, then it's time for hot flashes, night sweats and hair on your chin.

Oh, I am all for loving who we are and celebrating womanhood. Just wish it were a little less celebration on these lines.

how to get rid of 10,000 calories a day

2009-05-26T08:48:00.000+03:00

i've mastered this. i can get rid of even more than that.
i don't fight it. i just eat it. polish off my plate. and voila! thousands of calories down the drain -- eventually.

My Mind is a Drunken Monkey

2009-05-24T16:54:00.002+03:00

As I sit down to blog, my mind flits across so many cues. So I decide, what the heck?, let me just write the way my mind feels now. Like a drunken monkey.

Am I two-faced because:

I can detest someone as a professional and still love them as a person;

I can respect someone immensely for their work, yet feel cold towards them as a person;

I can find a million faults in my closest friends, yet don't feel any negativity towards them;

I can find a million virtues in someone I dislike, and still not give them a chance...

Does this make me two-faced, or just someone who can balance things well?

***************

A colleague asked me if something I mentioned in an earlier post referred to her.

I was not only a little taken aback, but also intrigued that she wanted to know.

For one, what if I had said it was her. How would she have taken it? And isn't it best to assume the best about yourself, unless explicitly stated otherwise?

**S, this is about you :)**

I haven't shared this blog with my family -- who try to read every bit of crap I write, in support of the career choice I've made. I like the privacy of writing something personal in a public forum.

But I guess that's an oxymoron. Privacy on a blog.

Still social networking sites and blogs could well blur the line between professional and personal interactions. A line that I used to take arrogant pride in maintaining well.

****************

Not till a couple of weeks ago did it hit me that I don't hug and hold and pet and pamper Nilah, the way I used to Oviya. Yes, I do everything that is NEEDED. Feed, change, massage, bathe... Needed, done.

I am so conscious of upsetting O, that I am guarded in displaying my affections with N.

Then my buddy Amira (3 kids wise) recounted how the first time she held and hugged her second born was when he was 1 year old. When the older one was asleep, and the husband was away. She held Karim for a couple of hours, giving him all the exclusive attention due to him.

Until then I thought being the youngest was the best thing in the world. 'Cos, I am the youngest of four, and never tire of the pampering I receive.

But on second thoughts, I never had my parents' focussed attention.

Now I make it a point to hug N at every given opportunity. If O is around, I ask her to join in. Or sometimes, I remind her that when she was this small Amma and Appa were all hers, EXCLUSIVELY.

I still pay O more attention, because the lack of it will affect her more than N. However, I am slowly trying to bring in a balance. For starters, I ask O to not disturb N and me during feed times, so that her baby sister is fed properly and doesn't stay hungry or cranky.

Baby steps. Tiny, little baby steps in balancing the 2 girls in my life.

Someone whom I admire immensely as a writer has expressed this journey so much more beautifully.

****************

The sutures have healed, the memories of pain are distant. And already a wicked little voice in my head is asking: "Wouldn't it be nice to have one more. Just one more...?"

****************

I don't want to think about it. I want to pretend that it's a long way off or not happening at all. But it is. M -- my 'bestest' friend (as O calls her) in Doha -- is packing up. Who will I call for advice? To crib? To take out shopping... who will I bully, though she is a couple of years older to me. I just don't want to think about it. I will have to eventually, when I reach for the phone one of the evenings and realise she is not around to answer my call.

****************

We have made the most 'Gulf-Mallu' (GM) of all decision (second only to buying gold). We are buying a WHITE TOYOTA as a second car, and for exactly the same reasons that we laughed at others for. Good Resale Value. And we are only half GM. How did this happen to us. Do you automatically become a GM after 10 years in the 'Gelf'.

And talking about 10. We came here for just 1 year, in 1999. And every year we stayed on for just 1 more.

... the Monkey in my mind will continue to wander.

it's all there in the mahabaratha

2009-05-16T16:15:00.004+03:00

When my dad kept telling us that there is absolutely no plot, story or angle that the Mahabaratha hasn't covered, I took it with a ladle full of salt, mistaking erudition for jingoism. Over the years, with every book and movie I watched, I sensed the familiar – of a story told before. And I am nowhere close to even reading 1 percent of the epic in its entirety. I’ve read the different versions of Mahabaratha for Dummies.
The latest read (for me) in the easy to digest books is The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. The epic from Panchaali’s point of view.
The book is INTERESTING because the epic and Draupadi are, and READABLE because of Divakaruni.
Reading this book, I couldn’t help but pick up the dozens of similarities between the epic and many of my favourite books. In particular the Harry Potter series (recent memory). The conversation between Panchaali and Krishna as the former leaves the material world is resonant of the one between Dumbledore and Harry at the railway station. Not just in substance, but even in the formation of the sentences. Also the walk through woods and Harry’s vision of the departed spirits, and Panchaali’s similar experience. Is it Divakaruni’s interpretation that is similar to the last Potter book? Or is the epic itself. I haven’t read it in its entirety to draw a conclusion on that.
But through out the book, the emotions of the different characters are akin to those of Harry, Snape, Voldemort and Dumbledore.
Then again, we can’t blame Rowling of plagiarism – for the Mahabaratha seems indeed to have covered every possible human emotion, and hence covered every conceivable plot.
Be it Pip’s misplaced loyalty in Great Expectations, the younger one’s frustration in Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper, or any of Grisham’s legal pawns, or the jealousy between Betty and Veronica in the Archie’s comics, why even conversations between Calvin and his imaginary pal Hobbes – the stories have been told. At a different time, in a different environment, but told already.

I’ve always preferred the Mahabaratha over the Ramayana, simply because the first had heroes with flaws and villains with virtues, while the latter was about a real whinnie…
Though more learned folks would say that my understanding is limited. I stay with my judgement.

In any case, I do feel we need to be aware of resources other than the Amar Chitra Kathas (awesome as they are) and B R Chopra’s rendition.

This is a good site to refer too as well. http://www.bharatadesam.com/spiritual/mahabharata/index.php

One book that I read and enjoyed immensely is Mahabharata: A Child's View by Samhita Arni , Tara Publishing. Written and illustrated by Samhita over a period of years and completed before she turned 12!

For more specific reading, http://www.asitis.com/ is a well-explained and organised site on The Gita.

ETA: Check this too

Small Change? Big Deal.

2009-05-15T18:42:00.002+03:00

I refuse to take toffee for change. I simply refuse, and I don't mind waiting and holding up the checkout line, but I will insist on getting my change and not some stupid chewing gum or toffee that is never consumed.

I have a draw of these, 'cos husband dear doesn't mind. Especially if it involves cute Filipinas flashing a smile and extending polo for the riyal they owe.

But not me. I find it difficult to believe that large supermarkets don't have enough change on them? Ridiculous.

And here is the latest in my 'small change' experience.

I happen to have an account in arguably the worst bank in town, the Standard Chartered.

For canceling a debit card I didn't ask for, hence didn't collect, they charged me Qr25. I complained to the customer service desk there, and said the charge of Qr75 (instead of 25, and it was a genuine slip of the tongue) had to be reversed. And the exec came back saying it was 'only' 25 (and obviously from his expression the unsaid was "what's the big deal").

The 'Only' 25 was earned by leaving my kids at home and going to work. It was earned by using my brains. It was earned by dedicating my time to a task. So I snapped, even if it's just 25dhs, I want it back.

They looked at me incredulously... and I glared at them ready to snap. They have promised to look into it and get back to me.

The issue is not the 'amount'. It is the principle. If I WISH to burn 25 bucks I will do it as I see fit, not because someone thinks it's small change.

And since I've already named the bank, let me name the supermarkets too -- Lulu: Every time. Every single time. Anything less than a riyal is never returned in currency.

FFC fumbles too, but rather rarely.

I just hate the way people are dismissive of 'small' change. Other people's 'small' change that is.

People

2009-05-13T06:39:00.002+03:00

It was only after I moved away from home, family and madras, did I get a clear perspective of what people were really like.

After living all my life in one particular kind of environment and routine, I had no real ‘separation’ to see things for what they were.

You realise whom you thought of as overbearing was just a caring sister.

The person who questioned your decisions and criticised your actions was only being a true friend.

The colleague who spent every night at your place was probably just sponging off you…

Put some distance. That's when you get a clear filter.

That’s when you learn to separate the chaff from the grain.

Like the management joke that goes – not everyone who shits on you is your enemy, not everyone who pulls you out of shit is your friend…

It’s merely a myth that the more time you spend with a person, the better you know him/her. You need distance to gauge a person.

After being ensconced in a routine of sorts over the last 5 years, I got my distance and my space, when I took a break for my second pregnancy.

So you move away, and see yourself and the people around you from a telescopic distance. And their character just pops up. Like pieces of a puzzle things just fall in place.

The insecurity behind a person’s martyr act;

the defensiveness behind a person’s long drawn explanations;

the rabble-rousing behind the uncalled for confidences;

the guilt behind a person’s exaggerated laugh;

and also the trustworthiness behind a person’s brutal honesty;

straightforwardness behind their indifference;

the care behind the non-stop calls;

the warmth behind the silence…

You get to see people for what they are when you remove yourself from the environment.

Just as distance is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, it also helps in shaking yourself out of false intimacies.

But that doesn't mean you won't repeat the mistakes, trust blindly and get taken for a ride. It just means that you fall a little less harder the next time around.

Antenatal hormones can really bring out the philosopher in you.

fathers and daughters! uh!

2009-05-12T18:50:00.005+03:00

what is it with dads and their daughters?
they strut around like vain peacocks, boasting to all and sundry about their daughter, as if the whole world has nothing better to do than oooh and aah over dad's little pride.
about 9 out of 10 recent births (moi included) i know of, have been baby girls, and 9 out of 9 dads are a little off their rocker!
seriously guys, get over it! the world is full of pretty little girls, their pompous dads and their overwrought mums.
and this is not only aimed at the dad who thinks his 12-week old will start talking 'SOON' because she gurgles loudly!

psst: well, as you can see someone is feeling a little left out of the drama enacted by certain daughters and their dad.

Conspiracy theories

2009-05-11T22:18:00.002+03:00

Someone has fixed KKR to take revenge on SRK. Has to be, otherwise, no team can do that badly!
Someone is playing a bad practical joke on me. When I am careful about what I eat, and try staying healthy, I gain weight at an alarming pace. And when I am stuffing my face with all I can eat, my metabolism seems to be behaving itself. Is it just because of breastfeeding? Or am in some kind of freakish reality show, unknown to myself?
The Central Bank prints trick currency. The more earn, the less I have.
Marks & Spencer’s employs people exclusively to fleece me. When I go to their sales, every single piece that catches my fancy or fits me, is in the non-sale category.
Credit card companies use a special chip that hypnotises you into believing that you can afford stuff you absolutely can’t (and don’t need).
Samosas and gulab jamuns were invented by skinny anorexic b****** to screw those of us who have no self control whatsoever.
Just when I manage to garner sympathy for the tough life I have, husband makes a public display of helping with everything and daughters act like little angels. When I am fast asleep, I am sure the 3 plot on how to show me up.
The merchandisers/designers of Indian lingerie companies are definitely male or are women who are woefully lacking. How else can you explain the lack of appropriate cup sizes in Indian-made/marketed bras?

Madras Musings III

2009-05-04T21:32:00.003+03:00

One of my favourite moments back home in Madras. Fresh elaneer (tender coconut water).

The hard climb up

And down

Getting my drink ready. O clicks this pic on my mobile O with her Ammamma, enjoying the activity

What wouldn't I do for one yummy elaneer, to drink right out of the shell. No straw or any other conduit for me.

MY VERY OWN AWARD

2009-05-04T21:07:00.005+03:00

I got the idea from Shyam's post. I am pretty sure the purpose of her post was to discourage more awards, and I am doing just the opposite.
But this is how MY AWARD works.
You are supposed to pick a blog that really impressed you, but it can't be someone you know. Not even virtually. It has to be a blog you stumbled upon or walked into through links. It can't be a blogger you have built an online relationship with.
I will do this every month.
I am tagging Shyam **wicked**, Teesu, Blogeswari and the winner of the award to do the same. And anyone else interested in doing this.
The May Award goes to HER.
'Cos she is funny and sarcy, and a lot of her posts I can identify with. And she is a fellow Chennaivasi (I didn't say you can't be jingoistic).
I stumbled upon her blog through the comments section of a blogger friend.

25 random facts about me OR Ego Tripping

2009-05-03T09:44:00.002+03:00

I’ve been tagged on this by many people on FB and blogs. So here goes…
1. I have 2 given names and they both represent the same Hindu goddess. Shows the height of indifference of an atheistic father who gave in to the will of his 3 older daughters and father, by accepting both options.
2. I have an irrational, hysterical fear of lizards. I lose all reason and bearings at the sight of one.
3. My mother is the single most important person in my life (barring my daughters). At 35 I still am greatly influenced by what she proscribes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t piss her off and fight with her.
4. I HATE COOKING. So I don’t.
5. I have a thing for Mallu men. Ended up marrying one.
6. I hate mixing professional and personal life, and try with rather great success to not merge working relationships with friendships.
7. In the many roles I play, the truest is at work. In every other – friend, sister, mum, wife, daughter – I take the other person into consideration, and don’t hesitate to put aside my interests. At work, I play myself with great abandon. That’s the real me with all the negatives and positives out on uninhibited display.
8. I am by nature very friendly, but take a long time making friends. And once I’ve done that, it’s invariably, for life. I have friends from KG whom I am still in touch with.
9. People feel I put an inordinate amount of effort in my friendships. I tend to agree.
10. I make excellent chicken, though I am a vegetarian.
11. I have severe bouts of depression that only certain friends can pull me out of.
12. I feel handicapped if I am not reading a book.
13. I am extremely jealous of anyone who can write humorously (without being mean). There is no better writing than that which makes people laugh or lighten their worries.
14. I multi-task more effectively and more effortlessly than most people I know.
15. I am not VAIN. Though MS spell check never fails to suggest this alternative for my name!
16. I had a crush on Anil Kumble for the longest time. In fact, conned some gullible colleagues that I was engaged to him!
17. Dark skinned men are a big TURN on.
18. Call it envy or scepticism (or plain old b****iness), but I tend to be dismissive of a lot of mediocre blogs that seem unreasonably popular.
19. I believe men ARE better at humour, chess and chilling out.
20. I actually DO LIKE Doha. Even I find it hard to believe I do.
21. I believe in capital punishment.
22. I don’t believe in corporal punishment in schools.
23. I love hanging around airport lounges and second class railway compartments. You can never get bored.
24. I love the bread omelette and tomato soup on Brindavan Express (Chennai-Bangalore).
25. I don’t trust easily, and am innately suspicious of most people.

If you haven’t done this, you are tagged.

Surprises

2009-05-02T16:54:00.003+03:00

Life is full of them. Mostly little ones, and I’ve been lucky to have more of the pleasant variety than otherwise.
Like this:
I was travelling alone with a 9-week-old infant who seeks little else than regular feeds and a comfortable bed, and a 7-year-old being torn away from her grandparents, aunts and a great time.
Yet, everyone -- from the paediatrician and gynaecologist to my family and friends – was worried how I would cope.
Guess what? I had the most uneventful, peaceful flight back to Doha. My girls were absolutely angelic. They made sure the very first time their mum was alone with both of them would be a good time. O read, nibbled, asked me ever so often if she could help. N slept, fed, slept, fed…
Thank you, babies.
Well, I guess I did deserve a break after some nasty surprises that came my way earlier in the year.
Chikun gunya in the third tri, mismanaged diabetes (by my doc in the first 2 tris), a day in labour but ending up with a c-section, a spinal anaesthesia that wore of in the middle of a cut, slow recovery from a double anaesthesia dose, lack of proper domestic help, mum down with chikun gunya too for the better part of my stay in Madras… probably sounds more nightmarish than it actually was.
But it’s a totally different (and much longer) post recounting all that I am thankful for, and the luck that seems to surround and hover over me.
It is terribly indulgent to feel sorry for yourself – and boy did I indulge! Then it was back to business, getting on with life.
So here I am in Doha after 4 months. Not much has changed except that I have one more little person to cheer me up, forgive me my slip ups, make me laugh (and cry) and make me feel inexplicably high ever so often. O’s load has eased a bit I must say, with N taking on a bit of all this work of managing a borderline depressive/hyper/psycho mum.

the job i love

2009-04-26T13:55:00.003+03:00

you think you have the job you love, your dream come true...
and then a tiny little nudge, to remind you that what you love most is right at home -- though tiring and tiresome at times -- it is not about realising a dream outside home, but living your life within.
how do i up and get back to 'routine'?!

reeling

2009-04-23T14:01:00.000+03:00

back to doha!
back to backbreaking routine.
back to blogging?

And then she is here

2009-02-25T23:03:00.002+03:00

Plus = Nilah
Feb 20, 2009; 16.09 IST; Madras

Blog on a Break!

2009-01-20T08:41:00.002+03:00

Madras Musings II

2009-01-01T11:06:00.002+03:00

Finding domestic help seems to be increasingly difficult here. While this does create inconveniences, it’s definitely a very encouraging and hopeful sign.

There are more productive job opportunities available
The lot of the class of people traditionally veering towards domestic work has improved
The children of domestic workers are better educated, hence don't follow in the footsteps of their parents
Those who still go in for this job are expecting better pay, terms and treatment
Those at the receiving end of the lack of help are beginning to appreciate the help they have received in the past

It makes me smile… even though I worry that my ageing parents and parents-in-law suffer because of inadequate help. But I guess we can either live with a little dust and grime, or learn to clean up after ourselves.

Tagged

2009-01-01T00:01:00.000+03:00

This is a tag from Deeps. The rule is - I'm supposed to be pasting an image for every answer of mine, from the first page of google image search, with minimal explanation.So, here I go....

1. The age you will be in your next birthday: 35

2. A place you’d like to travel to: Tawang

3. Your Favourite place: The terrace outside my room, at mum’s place. Such a great hang out for my friends and me during school and college. (Looks nothing like the pic. Far, far more modest a place than this.)

4. Your favourite food/drink: Masala Dosai and Filter coffee. And Vodka.

5. Your favourite pet: Like dogs. But not a major pet person.

6. Your favourite colour combination: Orange and Pink

7. Your favourite piece of clothing: Bootleg Jeans

8. Your all time favourite song: So many. But to choose -- Leaving on a jet plane…both Denver and Chantal versions.

9. Your favourite TV show: Grey’s Anatomy & Ugly Betty amongst current. FRIENDS is an all time fave.

10. Full name of your significant other: Bungeecowboy is what he likes to be called.

11. The town in which you live in: Doha

12. Your screen name/nickname: vanish_forever

13. Your first job: Was selling ice cream makers in a trade fair in my teens.

14. Your Dream Job: Living the dream. A journalist.

15: Bad Habit you have: Never trusting a compliment.

16. Your worst fear: Losing someone I love. Literally and otherwise.

17. The one thing you’ll like to do before you die: Educate at least one child (in need) other than mine from primary to higher, and see him/her successful in a career of his/her choice.

18. The first thing you’ll buy if you get $1,000,000: I would set up a lending library for children, charging only a maintenance fee. And then indulge myself guilt-lessly, having done my good deed.

And I hereby tag, Shyam, Teesu, Blogeswari, MG, Usha (when she gives me her blog id), Inbavalli.

Madras Musings I

2008-12-31T20:46:00.002+03:00

Been back in Madras for a little over a week now and there are so many random thoughts going through my mind.

Recession seems to have hit a precious few. People are still spending, and the flash of plastic can be seen everywhere – from the grocers’ to the computer store.

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Everyone. And I mean EVERYONE has a mobile phone. 3-member households have 4 phone connections including the landline…

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The civic sense of the Madrasis has only deteriorated… If there is something lower than rock bottom that is. If you are at a traffic signal, chances are that at least 3 people are spitting in your direction. Wherever you maybe.
And the ‘have penis-will pee everywhere’ mentality continues. The Madras-man is so unashamed of unzipping his pants (or hitching his lungi) to pee, even if it’s on the crowded Nungambakkam High Road or Mount Road.

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The Woodlands Drive-in is no more. I never liked the food there, and was always amazed at how unabashedly, unhygienic the joint was, and how it managed to attract such a massive clientele. Yet, the place was an ideal meeting place for many. A place where lovers met. A place where the weary traveller stopped. Where marital alliances were often fixed. Where journalists met their sources. Where politicians convened. Now it’s nothing.
I live around the corner from where it once used to be. I still can’t get used to the empty sprawling piece of horticultural society land. The shut gates, and the muddy area around it, provides a good open air toilet.

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There seems to be fewer walls than political parties. Every public wall is filled with combinations of red and black. One corrupt politician vying with the next, to get the attention of a weary population.

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Anyone over the age of 12 in M Karunanidhi’s family seems to be assured a cabinet post. Is there no end to a man’s greed? No end to nepotism?

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The music scene is on full swing. And no amount of ‘Yaaru Ootla Party’ kind of songs and its popularity, erases the enthusiasm for Margazhi festival.

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Chennai is cool and pleasant for most part of the day. Yes, it’s true. I am not kidding.

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The autorickshaw drivers’ greed seems to have plateaued. No great hike in their fares since last year.

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And every other teenage girl has rebonded hair. I really miss seeing the frizzy Madrasi hair that I seem to have held on to, despite being away from the city.

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So Madras has 2 more newspapers than it’s been used to for so many decades. Unfortunately, neither are real value adds.

… random thoughts will continue

I hate admitting this…

2008-12-30T20:35:00.000+03:00

…But I do think I am a workaholic. Though I was eager to take the break, days before I left Doha I had my apprehensions. And now I am SO BORED!!!!! I miss my routine. Of work, of running my home… I even miss O’s school and her homework. All this defined my day and life, and now I feel restless.
I am sure it will pass, and I will become the lazy cow I love being.

A TRADITION OF LOSING OUR TREASURES. WON’T WE EVER LEARN?

2008-12-20T20:50:00.000+03:00

Today, I went to the recently opened Museum of Islamic Art in Doha – a fantastic collection of art from Europe, Africa and Asia. A collection that would be only half of what it boasts now if we in India had learnt to take care of our treasures.

Though we love to talk about our rich culture and heritage, all that we are capable of now is splitting hairs over religion. We have scant regard for the richness we have inherited. Just look at how we treat our archaeological sites.

Let me stop the general rant and talk about what really bothers me.

It’s the Maqbool Fida Husain Collection. That’s what upset me.

I can come to terms with the wonderful collection of centuries-old jewellery and daggers and pottery that we have lost to people who better appreciate it.

I think it’s quite wonderful that M F Husain – an Indian – is the only living artist commissioned to do a collection for the Museum, which will include artistic representation of the 99 names of Allah.

The above is his representation of the Last Supper.

But I can’t accept or digest the fact that we’ve lost him due to our intolerance to a country that doesn’t even pretend to be secular or tolerant.

How can we force an old man out of his own home and country? Our temple sculptures and art are far more provocative than what he attempted. We are so intolerant because he happens to be a Husain? Not a Srinivasan or Arjun or whatever…

Please don’t start with ‘would he do this to Fatima or Khadija or …’; that is nonsense and shirking our responsibility as reasonable folks; Till we decided to make an issue of it, Husain was only known as an Indian painter, a great one at that, with a quirky passion for Bollywood actresses.

We, because of our intolerance made him a Muslim painter.

He was so obviously crazy about all things his country boasted of – from Bollywood to whatever else. Yet at 90 he has to live in a foreign nation?

Reading the legends in the Gallery made me want to scream out loud…

Under the title (not of the painting) Controversy and Comprehension hangs the painting below:

And next to that is this legend:

Read it carefully…

In the 1990’s some of M.F.Husain’s works provoked controversy due to the representation of naked Hindu goddesses. However, the admiration he earned from the International community provided protection that afforded him a barrier from the controversy.
The State of Qatar, in its wisdom and tolerance, offered M.F.Husain a residence in Doha. Here, the painter has initiated an important…

…in its wisdom and tolerance?

Let’s forget how ironical that sounds. Let’s just focus on how it reflects on us.

India, the melting pot of cultures and civilizations, couldn’t provide protection to its artist, its citizen, its national treasure.

And worse still, we lose him to a country that doesn’t allow the residents to display (non-Islamic) religious icons in their cars, and only recently deported dozens of families who had dared to congregate and pray in their homes – Indian Hindus and Christians all.

Isn’t it sad that we Indians for all that we like to boast of are not really any better than them?

It makes me angry that we allow ourselves to be held to ransom by a small group of deranged folks… repeatedly. If it’s not the 10 terrorists in Mumbai, then it’s the MNS, Shiv Sena, Bajrang Dal, the Jehadis… we allow people with vested interests to dictate the terms. We don’t protest, we even justify it.

Meanwhile, we continue losing our treasures…

Yipee… my baby bump was spotted. At last!

2008-12-20T17:03:00.000+03:00

The first time, and now again… my baby bump is not an obvious one.

Apart from those who know I am pregnant, no one can make out that I am some 30 weeks far into it. With the help of some maternity clothes and a dramatic tilted walk, only a few can now guess that I am not just a big woman, but one with a bun in the oven.

So imagine my joy today when in my regular clothes, someone managed to guess that I was pregnant.

It took all my self control to not jump on the rather cute security guard and hug him.

I was at the Museum of Islamic Art entrance, when one of the security guards pointed out my bump to his colleague and asked him to let me skip the metal detector routine. And I wasn’t even doing one of my exaggerated pregnancy walks.

Just hope the guys at the airport check-in next week let me skip the economy class and bump me up to business.

how heavy is your life?

2008-12-15T10:47:00.003+03:00

what's the deal with people who have so many dislikes, so many hang ups, so many biases... how do they unwind or just get on with life.

these are well educated people i am talking about -- who can't seem to tolerate people or opinions that are not a mirror image of self.

In short, for these people: if you are not of the same caste or religion, don't speak the same language, have the same quirks, enjoy the same movies or move in a certain circle, then you don't deserve a chance to be respected or tolerated.

If you are so wound up and lost in your prejudices, how do you get a good night's sleep?

just a job? no! a career, if you don't mind...

2008-12-14T22:47:00.006+03:00

if i had a 100 riyal for every time i've been advised this, i would be retiring and going back home for good!
if i actually heeded the advice, i would have far more money than i can care for.

why don't you apply for a job* in Q-Comp-1/2/3...**

*=secretary/pr executive/teaching assistant/school ayah/accounts assistant
(all respectable jobs, if that is what you are qualified to do or want to do)

**=the top Qatari employers that pay obscene amounts as salaries, and compensate by assuring little or no job satisfaction.

there are some who give me this advice out of nothing but goodwill.
i can forgive them.

but there are some over the last 9 years who are pig headed in believing that what i do (after nearly 15 years in this line) is just a job, not a career. most of these are women. housewives who take up temp jobs or women who have no concept of 'careers'.

i asked one of them if she would ask her husband to give up his job as a professional accountant, and take up a job as a sales executive because it pays better. she was offended, yet could not understand why i was uppity about her suggestion to take up a 36-hour a week, teaching assistant job.

why is my claim to a career not taken seriously? i know it's not merely a case of gender bias. a female physician wouldn't be asked to take up a job as a school nurse would she? (or would she?)

it is also the mentality we grow up with -- the only careers worth pursuing are that of a doctor, engineer or chartered accountant.

so if you are a journalist or a teacher or a social worker etc, then you can't really be serious about a career!!!!!!!

and out here, if you have no qualifications to speak of, and no focus in life, then teach. take up the immense responsibility of moulding the young and educating them, because you don't stand a chance in the job market. how pathetic, sad and scary!

i used to get ballistic when people suggested this to me in the past. now i try and explain to them rather patiently why it wouldn't work for me to give up my 'career'. and when i realise that i am talking to someone who is not interested in what i have to say, deafened and blinded by their own reasoning, i just ignore them.

but i seethe inside. just as i'm seething now.

They didn't punch me in my stomach. Thanks for the advice!

2008-12-06T07:34:00.000+03:00

Last evening I took O and three of her friends out for a movie (Madagascar 2) and dinner.

R advising O before we left: "Don't trouble Amma. Listen to her. Don't fight with each other (friends not me). And don't let anyone punch her in the stomach because she is pregnant."

Now, was he giving O and her friends an idea or what?! Because it is not like people routinely punch me in my stomach, pregnant or otherwise!

For what it was worth, they didn't punch me on my stomach.

PS: The movie sucked. No story to speak of, and really boring lines. Nothing catchy. Stupid. And why should a Giraffe fall in love with a Hippo. Isn't it unethical for 2 different breeds to hook up? It didn't help that I am not a fan of animation films.

"Save me from the Autograph hunters. They are terrorising me!"

2008-12-05T11:13:00.004+03:00

When Rome was burning...

Or something on those lines.

MS Dhoni (whom I LOVE as a captain/cricketer) is not happy with the 2 dozen cops giving him cover.

So in these tense times, the cops are going to up HIS security.

This is what our country needs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He has definitely come down a rung or two in my eyes.

Keep this up, and you will be hit on the head with the pedestal we have put you on.

Why Khan is a Bollywood title, not a surname

2008-12-04T08:13:00.001+03:00

CAST: M=O’s best pal (6 ½ years old); Umm M=Mother of M; O=my first born

M: I want to be an Astronaut

Umm M: Oh, that’s good

M: O wants to be an Astronaut too

Umm M: Really? But her mother told me O wants to be an actor

M: What? Then she will have to be O Khan is it?

It’s still a wonderful world to bring a child in to. I think or I hope or I wish or Am I just plain wrong?

2008-12-03T07:36:00.003+03:00

Or rather I think, I think. I have to be right on this one. I am bringing a second one out here, in a few months.

I have a couple of friends who have chosen not to have children. Ever. They are both borderline cynical, but one actually loves kids. They managed to convince their respective partners to not procreate, because they think the world can do without another innocent soul being corrupted.

I am not really Ms Sunshine, but I am an optimist; I have a lot to be grateful for. And I still see the world as a wonderful place. Not a perfect one (but then if it is, how will people sell their religion as the path to heaven?), but a beautiful one.

But somewhere deep inside, my Jiminy Cricket asks me if I am sure. Absolutely sure? And I am not.

I think by hugging my child(ren) everyday, dozens of times a day; by listening to them; by teaching them right from wrong; by loving them unconditionally; by educating them; by giving them a good social environment, I am ensuring that they will grow up as good human beings. Who may sometimes falter, who may have flaws, but who will always try to be better.

I feel by doing all this, I justify bringing a child into this world. I am assuming every parent wants to do this too…

So, did the parents of 21-year-old Mohammed Ajmal Mohammed Ameer Kasam really mess up?

Or are hugs and love and education not good enough? Where is his mother? Or for that matter, the families of the other nine youngsters who we know as ‘terrorists’.

What will happen to 2-year-old Moshe? He will never be allowed to forget how his father and ‘heve’ (6 months pregnant at that) died. Eighteen years from now how will he be moulded? How different will he be from the pitiful child crying out for his mother at the funeral service.

Everyday, every moment, there are human achievements and nature's miracles that makes me grateful for being here.
It may be a spider weaving its web, the process of birth, the process of making the baby, a kiss, a lioness chiding its cub with a heavy paw on the head because it’s going astray, pollination, a baby’s laugh, breast feeding, a Bollywood entertainer, a fantastic cricket match, the Mars rover, Chandrayaan, Usain Bolt’s victory dance... and so I think it’s a world worth bringing another child into.

Sadly, everyday there is death and terror.
But like all of us I want to believe it won’t happen to me and mine.
For how long can I continue to believe this?
When will my beliefs be dismantled brutally?
When I board the flight to India?
When I next switch on the TV to watch FRIENDS and stumbled upon a news channel showing a blast somewhere?
When I go shopping for a new bag or underwear?
When I decide to go for an anniversary dinner?
When I am attending a friend’s wedding?
I dread the rude awakening. I hope it never happens.

I want my life to be boring and uneventful.

I want my hugs and kisses to be protection enough for O, Plus and R.

I want to believe that Mohammed Ajmal Mohammed Ameer Kasam has never been soothed by his mother, and didn’t have a normal childhood.

I want Moshe to have someone step in and be his mother and hug him, without crippling him with sympathy and hate.

I want to believe that’s all that the world needs. More hugs.

ETA: A colleague pointed out this video on reading the post. Free hugs. What a wonderful idea indeed.

Maximum City

2008-12-02T22:05:00.002+03:00

Maximum deaths were at CST. Maximum coverage was not on it though. Maximum blame will probably be on the cops in the station, because CCTV caught their inaction.
Maximum bias, maximum insecurity, maximum snobbery, maximum city.

Added: Gnani has said it much better and much more forcefully here.

I am sick and tired...

2008-11-30T21:55:00.006+03:00

I am sick and tired
Not just of the bastards who did that to my country – and I don’t mean the politicians alone…

I am sick and tired of those who take on a holier-than-thou attitude

Of those who see demons in everything and everyone

Of those who blame without basis

And of those who dub any opposing view as a ‘generalisation’

Of those who talk about being open to discussion… but only if all that is discussed is in agreement with what they feel or say

I am sick and tired of those who want to act as if sectarianism doesn’t exist in India, or if it does, talking about it makes you a culprit too

I am sick and tired of how bloody indifferent people can be

When I commented here that “I am totally dumb struck by the non-Mumbai folks out here who seem to be rather unmoved by the incident” it was taken as an accusation of me generalising, and making it a Mumbai-nonMumbai thing. When in fact I was making it exactly the opposite!!!!!!!

I don’t care to be rude to people who have an opinion on what I say or write, as some people are wont to do. Because I know when you are rude, your meaning is never heard, only your rudeness causes hurt.

Why did I say that in that comment? There are dozens of reasons why…

I am stating a few here…

1. A friend of mine (born-bred Mumbai, origin somewhere further south) was actually asked with a smirk by at least 3 ‘non-Mumbai Indians’ – What is happening to your Mumbai now? Her Danish and British colleagues showed a lot more sense and sensitivity. They enquired about her family, and then her country!

2. There are quite a few Indians in my workplace. Only some of us were frantic with worry. The others barely showed a passing interest. They didn’t have family there, they don’t know what or where Colaba and CST are. So the attack didn’t deserve more than a ‘ha, yes…” On the very day we were out on work, and at that meeting so many of the foreigners came up to me and asked me about the situation. They saw me as an Indian, and asked me about India.

3. Sun TV carried wide coverage of the cyclone (which all the ‘national’ channels totally ignored. Close to 100 dead and thousands displaced!). Sun TV’s coverage of the Mumbai attack was at best indifferent. While it showed a 15 minute footage of that nepotistic MK distributing bread to the cyclone affected, it dismissed off the ongoing Mumbai crisis in a couple of minutes.

4. When a fellow South Asian told me (in reference to the young terrorist) “When you see bad things, you do bad things”, the other Indians who were with me just nodded. They couldn’t even be bothered to take offence at what that guy was saying. The people who were so brutally murdered, deserved it?

5. Someone who obviously was not following the news told me, ‘I am sure they let go of all the Muslim hostages! And no Muslim died’

6. And more than a dozen people told me, “oh Muslims, no wonder!” I almost prayed then (and I never do) that not one of those terrorists turns out to be an Indian. Because we know what would follow.

7. Then 2 people on Thursday told me that this is in response to what ‘the minorities endured’.

8. I stopped counting at 10, when people either invited me or spoke about catching the latest releases that night.

9. And when I spoke about the indifference of some here, I was asked by a friend, “What if it had happened elsewhere. Not in Mumbai or Delhi or Bangalore… Would you still be so upset?” Would I? I seriously hope so. I would probably be far more devastated if it happened in Chennai, because it is my city, and the victims could well be my near and dear ones. But I would be scared and angry wherever this took place… I would feel threatened for my country.

10. One person told me (must be a cousin of R R Patil) that the whole thing seems so much bigger, because of the live coverage.

11. And then so many didn’t even mention the attack.

12. And well, every single person who had these weird comments/ideas was a non-Mumbaikar, they couldn't identify with what was happening.

Does that mean I found no ‘Indian’ patriot here? It doesn’t. Fortunately, R & I are picky about our friends, and they (and their friends) were all angered/saddened/upset/concerned by what was happening.

Unfortunately, during the course of my work day, I interact with people who are not all to my taste or liking, many of whom are Indians. And quite a few of them figure in the list above.

I speak of my experiences, not my personal opinions, so how the hell can someone question that? Don’t we all make up minds based on our experiences?

I am not going to bury my head in the sand and claim every single Indian was affected by this. Because every single Indian obviously was not. And they anger me almost as much as those who did that to India.

We are so divided as a country. So bloody divided. North, South, West and we don’t even give enough thought to the East!

I am also sick and tired of people talking about my right to comment on India because I don’t live there… I have whole different take on that, but will save it for another post.

And one more thing, I here voices out there saying we can’t brand all Pakistanis as our enemies. Yes, let’s not. But Pakistan is, whether we like it or not. At the height of the Kargil crisis when R & I refused to buy Pakistani produce here (we work with Pakistanis and are cordial enough with them), people mocked us, saying we were new to the Gulf, and will soon forget all this. We haven’t. We still don’t.

I agree we cannot blame X who lives in Islamabad or Y in Lahore for this. But as a country, they can’t shrug off their responsibility in escalating terrorism.

I am not done with this rant, so will continue soon. And unlike some, I don’t mind being disagreed with, as long as it’s done civilly.

Bewildered birds

2008-11-29T12:54:00.003+03:00

The pigeons kept flying back to around the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. Pigeons that are as much a part of that landscape as the sea and the Gateway...
Even as they would fly away with every blast or shot, they would congregate again in no time.
They must have been bewildered… as the rest of the country. Bewildered that their neighbourhood is under attack!

Special Question to Raj Bhai

2008-11-28T16:57:00.002+03:00

Dear Raj Bhai
How could you allow north Indian commandos and NSGs to enter your beloved city and interfere? What audacity that they could come and rescue Mumbai.
With no regards or love
Umm

Someone should tell this asshole now that is what a Nation is about. People not only go where opportunities lie (like to Mumbai), but when in need, it doesn't matter where the eff or who the eff needs it, you pitch in as Indians.

I have some questions? Do you have some

2008-11-28T11:42:00.003+03:00

Cops, Home Ministry related...
What is the budget allocated to our police forces?
What part of the budget goes into infrastructure and equipment?
Is that really a bullet-proof vest that the cops were wearing?
Or was it just some foam look-alike?
What kind of training do our cops have in combat situations?
What is the use of having a stupid old man as a Home Minister?
Are only idiots appointed to the position. Since Advani was one, and he was stupid enough to go to an active area and create distraction.
What will happen to the families of all the cops who died?
How come the terrorists had easy access to the Taj floor plan, but our NSG didn't have it?

Emergency services...
Why is it that we don't have one? (Qatar a tiny country has a huge fleet of EMS, including air ambulances. The response time of road ambulance is between 7-10 mts max)
Why is that we have world-class tertiary care (private) but the more important universal primary health care and emergency services (responsibility of government) is so pathetic?
What went through the mind of the health minister when he saw the injured being dragged by their feet and hands as part of rescue?
Aren't we worried that the Maruthi Omni we use for ambulances is a very unstable vehicle?
What exactly is done with the taxes?

Media
Not because I am a print media journo, but because it is just so stark -- why are broadcast journalists so bloody unprofessional? (Any upstart who can hold a mic becomes a star journalist)
Objectivity doesn't equal insensitivity. Do these people realise that?
Is Barkha Dutt a conflict mongering, shallow, sadistic pig?
I have worked with some fantastic print journalists, seen them in action -- where ground work and deep though guided their words. So how come these so called journalists on TV are getting away with such nonsense?
Don't you have a better question to ask a survivor than: How are you feeling now?
Why were there no side stories, that required more than standing in the site of action?
The print and online media gave the truth about Nariman House much before the TV channels did. What was the support team covering the combat doing?
Is it spirit of Mumbai that they carry on with life, or just weariness that the effing politicians will do nothing in any case?

There are so many more questions on my mind, very few answers… do you have any answers or questions? Will continue...

If you can read Tamil

2008-11-28T00:17:00.002+03:00

Please read this spot-on piece by Blogeswari.

Fucking Ineffective Governments

2008-11-26T23:01:00.002+03:00

Raped over and over again.
If it isn't the bloody religious terrorists then it is assholes like Thakeray.
Bastards all...
When you know the city is under threat, what the fuck was the police/army/ats doing?
After 9/11 didn't US make sure no attack happened again in its land.
Why the hell are we so bloody ineffective.
I am so BLOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYY ANGRY. Livid.

What colour success?

2008-11-26T18:12:00.001+03:00

ETA Post Script

This really weird and depressing news item appeared in Outlook last month. Where will we Indians, draw the line? Why are we so obsessed with being fair -- meaning complexion, not just. Firang sperm? Give me a break!!!!!!!!!
If we obsess about the colour of our skin, there are other equally discriminatory, ego-mocking rituals elsewhere in the world.

Here in the Middle East 16 and 17-year-olds undergo invasive procedures to get that almost unnoticeable tilt to their nose, plump up their lips, curve their cheek bones… Who told them that they are not good enough without thicker lips and higher cheek bones?

I am surrounded by looks-obsessed folks out here. I know people who would skip a doc appointment in favour of a beauty parlour session.

How bad can our self esteem get?

Whether we are conscious of it or not, we are bombarded with messages that tell us we are not good enough, as we are.

Have you seen the Garnier wrinkle ad -- where are the wrinkles on the model’s face? Why the hell do we have to worry about something that would be visible only under the most advanced microscope.

Yes, Dove runs real beauty campaign. But it is just a bloody ad gimmick, as the same company produces the mother of all self-esteem crushers Fair & Lovely.

Our hair, our face, our skin, our laugh lines... why is ageing or looking like normal human being seen as such a blight?
I have cousins, otherwise smart and reasonable, who are so hung up about marrying fair women. Why is fair equated with beautiful or even presentable? It's common knowledge that fairer the skin, earlier the ageing!

Now the obsession with skinniness. Different races have different body shapes – a shape determined by nature after zillions of years of research on what would best suit the climate, environment and other conditions of the native region. Why mess with that?
I am not talking about slim vs obese. I am talking about anorexic-thin vs normal bmi.
Yet, even Indian stores stock sizes that would only fit a much smaller build like those from the Far East. Indian women have hips and boobs, and bit more in the middle. That’s why they look drop dead gorgeous in sarees.

If it is not how we look, then it is about what we will become. So bloody well give your child Horlicks, or woe behold he/she may be disinterested in maths and take up arts! What the eff?

What's wrong with dark skin?

What's wrong with child bearing hips?

What's wrong with a little flesh on the booty?

Is it the end of the world if your eyebrows are not quite aligned?

And what the heck is the problem with a bit of fizzy hair now and then?

I am all for grooming oneself well, being presentable and doing what it takes to feel good about self.
But the sad thing is, the more obsessed we get with the way we appear, the more we invest in products and treatment, less happy with ourselves.

When O was born, the first (and last) thing everyone seemed to notice was the colour of her skin. I was ready to throw up my post-natal health food on them… why couldn’t they notice how cheerful she was with visitors? Why couldn’t they notice how amazing genetics is, and she has a mole in the exact same spot on the ear as her dad? Why couldn’t they comment about how healthy she was?

Nopes. Those were not as important as the light skin.

Because R & I are BROWN, and O is a deep beige, people openly wonder how I managed that? What did I eat when I was pregnant? Bleach and Fair & Lovely, pals.

I didn’t realise that this was having an effect on her till a couple of years ago. We were planning on adoption then, and were slowly introducing the subject to her… and O told me she didn’t want a brown baby. That’s when R & I consciously started talking to her about how flippant and unimportant these things were. How could I blame the 5-year-old? She was constantly hearing folks talk about fair equals cute/beautiful. That’s all that she saw on TV, except for the annoying Raven. Fair skin, light hair, make-up. Kids’ channels reinforce these stereotypes too.

I have always been partial towards dark skin. Give me a well-dressed guy with dark skin, a day-old stubble and a smile, I will swoon! I feel light skin only augments all your facial flaws.

Just look at the folks below… can you imagine anyone of them fairer and better looking?

PS: A friend called to ask if I have a problem with 'light skinned' folks. No, I don't. My mum and 2 sisters are 'fair' and gorgeous despite not because of that. I just feel that a majority of us in India are not light skinned, and we shouldn't feel like it is a disadvantage! Does it really matter? And as MG said how boring if we all looked the same. Fair skinned, silky hair, 'perfect' nose or whatever...

Umm finally sees the cons of flexi hours.

2008-11-25T23:17:00.003+03:00

I am an ardent advocate of flexi hours. I have seen that both personally and with others, when given an option of flexibility, the will to go the extra length is stronger and productivity is really high.

Of course, there will always be someone who is trying to skive off work or exploit the trust. But by and large, it works well. In fact, the only places where fixed hours -- replete with a time office counting the minutes/seconds -- are still prevalent are government or other inefficient/unproductive organizations.

I’ve been in employment for nearly 13 years, and barring a horrendous 3 months, have only worked in places that offer flexi hours.

Probably because I totally love my line of work, I don’t even realise that flexi hours often ends up as really long hours. Since I am not willing to account for the hours of the day, I go overboard accounting for quality of my work and the load I’m willing to pull.
Often this means working weekends, late nights, without a break…

In every place I’ve worked in I’ve come across pedantic folks who talk about face time, and clocking hours. Folks who would spend hours away from the desk smoking/drinking coffee/praying/chatting. Folks who would leave at the dot of 5 or 6 or whatever the exit time is. Folks who would whine about putting in a few extra hours now and then…
Those folks, I am glad to say, have little or no influence over how I or the people I work with, function.

But after all these years, I am feeling the strain of flexi hours.
I’ve also come to realize that flexi hours can be quite exploitative.

Though during my first pregnancy I experienced no dip in energy levels, this time around I am quite easily sapped. I am now in my third trimester, and find it rather impossible to work without breaks in between. Must be age as well… just a few months short of 35!

And now I wish I worked fixed hours – which here would mean 5 hours in the morning, 2 hour break and 3 hours in the evening. Then when I go home, I go home! I am not working… While at office, I would be taking the dozen 10 minute breaks a lot of people tend to take.

I would have then been in a position to turn down any work that requires me to work more than these hours…

But no, not only did I practice flexi hours, I preached it with passion.

Now it’s too late to retract. So like the fabled dumb mule, I allow myself to be overloaded with work.

I sit glued to my work station for hours without moving or little movement – something that the doc has advised against; I nurse terrible back and pelvic pain/discomfort; I try and manage the ever-growing team with patience that is wearing thin – for no fault of theirs really; I am trying to finish all the work within the sanest possible hours. I come back home to an annoyed daughter (the drama queen feels neglected), try and do the best by her and get down to work again as soon as she is asleep.

The worst part of it all? I have no one to blame, but myself! In fact, I have some splendid colleagues who have chipped in so much to not make me feel or sound like a whiner.

I have only recently learnt to say ‘no’… it used to be a torturous exercise earlier to turn down requests. I just need to practice saying it more often and more forcefully.

So maybe there is something to be said in favour of fixed hours… not that I could ever embrace that system, but I do see the (few) pros of it.

PS: I know that there are people out there who are nodding sagaciously to themselves, and concretising their opinions on why equal opportunity doesn’t work. Just want to tell those pompous asses: try carrying a pebble in your tummy for a day, while carrying on your regular work… then come back and argue equal opportunities with us.

Badly behaved: The child or the parents?

2008-11-20T10:10:00.001+03:00

Warning: Really LONG rant ahead.

The first time I woke up to what it really meant to be an (in)effective parent was when O was barely a few days old. A family friend visited with her 5-year-old, who went totally berserk at the sight of a doll-sized human being. Obviously her first encounter with a baby, and totally unprepared for it.
My mother and I had a tough time protecting O from the little girl’s eager hands. She not only jumped around the bed, but tried to lift O up by her wrist. The mother only kept repeating her daughter’s name, increasing her decibel level with every call, till she finally screamed at the girl and roughly dragged her out.
As much as I felt sad for the wailing child, I was relieved that O was safe.
Later I was wondering what I would have done in that situation, as a mother. I would have first prepared O for the visit. Explained that we were going to see a really tiny little person, who is delicate and can’t be touched, but only admired from afar. And if she still ‘misbehaved’, I would try to beat a hasty retreat without creating a scene, without exposing my child to judgement by all and sundry. I would lecture her, on reaching home.

In the last 7 years, R & I have messed up often enough. But by and large, we have handled O well, we think. We have always been able to take her to the restaurant or cinema or mall. We can fly, and even manage long transits with ease. Even if only one of us is travelling with her. Even when she was a baby. Of course parks and beaches are NEVER a problem with a child.
I explain everything to O. I’ve done it long before she learnt to communicate verbally, herself. She knows the ground rules while visiting people, she knows that she will be punished if she goes back on her commitment to behave... And there are times when she has expressed her reluctance or unhappiness to go someplace and we have still dragged her out -- to the supermarket for instance. Sometimes, you have nothing at home to eat, and you have no choice but to take the child with you to shop. You just have to be a bit more tolerant and innovative on those days.
A bribe works great!
We have had the advantage of bringing her up largely by ourselves (making up for all the other disadvantages of the situation)... so for most part of the year we are spared the excessive pampering of grandparents and aunts.
I am not making O out to be a model child (kakkaiku thann kunju pon kunju*). The truth is far from it. But what I have ensured (or am trying to) is that no one calls her ‘badly behaved’ – in my dictionary that directly translates to ‘bad parenting’.

I have met all kinds of parents (the children are all more or less similar!).

There are parents who seem so in tune with their child’s needs, watching them together is like watching a pro synchronised swimming. It’s perfect. It’s beautiful.

Then there is the majority of us – struggling to do our best and not mess up.

And then there is the class of parents – people I can’t even begin to understand. They take pride in the ‘misbehaviour’ of their child.

I had O’s birthday party recently. A party only for kids.

There were a couple of my friends helping me out with the 16 kids. The kids were AWESOME! Some immediately got into party mood. Some took their time. Some preferred sitting by themselves. One was not comfortable being separated from her mum, but she didn’t throw a tantrum. They were all wonderful. They had fun, they painted and played and ate...
The thing is, I’ve seen some of the kids in a different environment, with their parents, and they were out of control.

Case in point (a composite of various cases really):
Immediately after R & I asked O & her friends not to run around outside the party area, disturbing the others in the cafe, a parent pipes up.

Parent: children should be allowed to run around.
R: Yes, in a park, at the beach, in your home. Not in a public place.
Parent: That’s nonsense. I want my child to be naughty and bratty.
Me (to myself): In your time, in your home. Not if it puts others at an inconvenience.
To prove his point, Parent calls child, and asks him to swim on the floor!
And child does, after nearly toppling a shelf of fragile dinner sets.

This child, till the arrival of the parent, was having fun. Was just like all the other kids. Wanted a bit more popcorn, little less salad; wanted face painting and danced rather cutely for the bunny song; listened to the party organiser when she requested all the kids to remain seated and not run out of the party area. Just a child.

What I realised after many exchanges between the parent and child is this.
The child did not feel he/she had a licence to misbehave because the parent was indulgent.
He/she felt he HAD to misbehave, as the parent expected it, found it cute even! Then there are parents who don’t expect their child to ‘misbehave’, but they do seem to think that’s what children do, so there is no need for disciplining.

Children cry when they are hungry/uncomfortable/sleepy.
Children throw tantrums when they are unwell/ignored/in a strange environment.

All situations that parents should attempt to handle, even if they don’t succeed.

But what if a child is throwing food at people or punches at his/her friends? If the child is destructive? If the child is abusive? Then that calls for serious intervention. Not just for the child, but for the parents too. How do you allow that to happen?

I am not judging the child here. But I AM judging the parents.

There are parents who take such pains, to ensure that their child is not a bother to others; Who take every effort imaginable to make sure that the child is on his/her best behaviour in company. I don't follow too many mommy blogs. In fact, it's only MM's blog that I follow, and in this post she talks about tolerance towards kids, and how she avoids or works around situations that may not be child-friendly.

Yes, as parents, we need to be aware that the apple of our eye could well be a sore point for others.

Here I begin my rant on those who are intolerant of children.
What the heck! Even if you don’t have a child, you were one to begin with. So get over it, and stop glaring at the wailing child and embarrassed mum at the supermarket. Stop sighing loudly at the duo on the plane... Just get over yourself, and give the situation a thought.

I can’t understand people who are intolerant of a wailing child. It’s definitely not music to the ears. But maybe the child is genuinely distressed, and the last thing the parent needs is a dozen pair of disapproving eyes on her while she is trying to console the child. There are places that you should not take your child (8mths-8years) to. And there are places that you should expect children, and expect some adjustment.

The Cinema: If it’s a film for kids, expect kids at the theatre. If you are child-phobic, rent a DVD and watch at home. And if it’s not children’s movie, and your child is not comfortable in a cinema and is bound to create a racket, then YOU rent a DVD and watch it at home.

The Restaurant: If the restaurant doesn’t provide high chairs and kids’ menu, chances are it’s not meant for children. So try and avoid. Even if it’s a child-friendly eatery, it doesn’t mean your child can run around, upset food trays or throw samosas at fellow diners. No-no! A friend of mine carries a little activity bag, and some snacks too. So her child is engaged, while we have a good peaceful meal!

A Party: If the invite doesn’t say X & family, then don’t take your child. I have seen people bring their entire brood to official ceremonies. What the hell! If you are taking your child to someone’s house, make sure children are really welcome out there, and that the hosts are not being merely polite.
Now if it’s a party where kids are present, as adults we have a responsibility too. Don’t get drunk and throw up; don’t smoke around the kids; don’t swear and abuse. Don’t be a pain in the ass.

Trains/Planes/Public Transport: If you don’t want pesky kids around, use your private transport. Don’t use public/mass transport and expect the luxury of child-free environment. So often, on a flight, those that are tolerant of drunken idiots or loud snorers, get all irritable with a crying child. If you don’t want a child travelling with you, fly first or business, or better still charter a jet.
And for the parent, during landing or take off, give the child a toffee to suck on. The air pressure blocks their ears and makes them uncomfortable. Carry their toys and snacks and some books. And stop watching the damn movie on the in flight entertainment and pay attention to your child.

Supermarkets: Best case scenario – no child. Yet, you can’t avoid it sometimes. So it’s ok to bribe. Tell your child that if he/she is on her his/her best behaviour, there is a candy bar or toy waiting at check out. Under no circumstance is pulling down produce from shelves and playing building blocks with it, permissible.

Parks/Beaches: If your child has a lot of pent-up energy, parks and beaches are great. Let them get dirty and grubby and play their energy off. And if there is an adult trying to get some peace and quiet out there, tell them they are in the wrong place.

Malls: Most malls have play areas. Again, bribe them. If you have to shop, then bribe your child with an hour on the rides for good behaviour!

School: If you are teaching young children, you need to be patient. Otherwise get a job as a data processor. A few friends of mine (parents of 4 and 5-year-olds) are so stressed out because their child doesn’t sit still and remain quiet for the 5-6hours at school. Or rather they are stressed out because the teacher complains all the time. Reality check please… How is that even possible? For a child to sit still.
Whenever R & I complained that O was being a bit too ‘active’, my wise mum would ask if we preferred ‘manangati’**

Home: Best place to be in, if you haven’t got the hang of being an effective parent. Stay put at home.

Talk to your child.
They are never too young to understand. You treat them like a responsible little person (not a child) and they behave like a responsible ‘person’.
A friend decided to go for Dostana, leaving behind her 2-year-old with the dad. She didn’t sneak out of home or lie. She explained to her daughter that mommy was going out for a while with her friend. And the little girl waved her good bye!
It may not always be that simple. But what is?

For me explaining and answering questions have always worked. I ALWAYS answer O’s queries (R says I am being politically correct by doing so). Even when I am at the end of my tether and annoyed, I will answer her question. Of course, smart ass has learnt a few tricks based on this, but that’s different post.

Another lesson I’ve learnt & am learning is that nothing triggers a tantrum or misbehaviour like when one is being ignored.
There is no point showering the child with attention when he/she is in the midst of a tantrum – the child is in no mood to reason at that point. But just before, when the child is seeking your attention and you are too busy chatting with your friends or browsing the net or watching a soap/cricket match on telly… you are asking for trouble, pal!

* Roughly, crudely translated: A crow chick is made of gold for its mother.
** Lump of clay.

PS: I started this rant 3 weeks ago, but as usual I had way too much to say, and needed the time to trim and edit my thoughts. So it may read a bit jerky...

150 things to do before 30

2008-11-18T17:29:00.009+03:00

This tag is from MG. I will be 35 in a few months, but most of what I've marked I did before I turned 30!
You’re supposed to make “bold” the things you have done.
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive (but will do it soon!)
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you” and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game (A cricket game and tennis)
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower (unforgettable. also the night i tore my ankle ligament)
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight (too many, too often)
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster (a tiny one)
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and didn’t care who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment (all the time)
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends (still do)
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Taken a midnight walk on the beach (R's wooing style)
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day (too often)
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theatre
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites (in Greece, Lebanon and India)
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days (you are joking?!)
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on a television news program as an “expert”
83. Gotten flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage (at college, it counts right?)
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music (For my own ears only)
87. Eaten shark (before i turned veg. soraputu, for those who are curious)
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Passed out cold
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge (only a part of it... but I was over 30 by then!)
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking with the windows open
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication (bread and butter for me)
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a TV game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse (in Kodaikanal. those silly touristy things)
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for 30 hours in a 48 hour period
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. States
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi (veg sushi)
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad and The Odyssey
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream (sometimes a dream, sometimes a nightmare)
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair (i'm greying)
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone’s life (kind of... an accident victim on chennai streets who was just lying there. took him to the hospital. the doctor saved his life)

The tag applies to anyone reading this.

Have you seen this?

2008-11-17T17:03:00.002+03:00

Today, at lunch, I sobbed and snorted and almost choked on my food. I was surfing channels during the ad break of the 2nd ODI telecast and stumbled upon something called Colors TV channel. What caught my attention was the Hum Paanch tomboy character in traditional garb. So I decided to watch it. Turned out to be a serial called Balika Vadhu, about a child bride. The scene that I chanced upon was where the child bride is being sent away to her marital home. The exchange between the mother who understands everything and the child who doesn’t was so overwhelming.
Now, I am not the weepy kind. I don’t cry watching movies or reading a book. I would wet my lashes a wee bit now and then, but nothing more.
Maybe my hormones, or just maybe the serial. That scene got me going, and then when the child realises that she was going away, and it was no more just fun and games, I let loose. Fortunately, I was alone at home, and could snort and sob to my heart’s content.
And as all net-addicts do, I googled the serial, and voila! Old news. The serial has been a hit for a long time now. And I know about it only now. I usually skip Hindi serials. But this was so well shot, and the acting was fantastic. I could recognise ‘Kajal bhai’ and Surekha Sikri. The little girl was awesome too…
Next step is to hit YouTube for more episodes.

maybe you have nothing to say, but i am still asking. why?

2008-11-16T20:42:00.004+03:00

i have this counter going on the blog. sometime earlier this year i got rid of it. because it started controlling my moods. on a good count day i was all confident and high; on a bad count day i was full of self doubt.
then the blog and i came to an understanding. we are there for each other, first and foremost. rest is only coincidental. so i started a new counter. and then i also added the mapping widget. through this little window i know the location of the numbers. people who stumble into or seek out my blog.
on an average there are about 100-120 hits a week, of late.
some i know are repeat visitors.
i have a lot to say on my blog. and i have a lot to say on other people's blogs, as well. and i am wondering why these folks have nothing to say on mine? why are they not de-lurking?
and i've tried to reason out why so few (or hardly any) of those who drop by actually comment.
here are my Top 10 reasons why most passers-by don't comment:
1. they are so overwhelmed by my wit and skill, they are speechless.
2. they are secret admirers and have a fan club going behind my blog-back.
3. they don't understand what i write.
4. they mock me in silence, as they are too polite to voice what they really think.
5. i am plain boring.
6. they landed here by mistake. they were looking for quiet qatar not quite qatar.
7. the widget folks, in a bid to popularise their products, are doctoring the counter and mapping.
8. a glitch in technology doesn't deliver the comments to my box.
9. they are scared that by commenting, they'd encourage me to ramble on further.
10. it's all maya!

Ka-Ching. A peek in to the World without Money. But, no, thank you, I want to have plenty!

2008-11-16T12:34:00.006+03:00

On Friday, I took O to the library. Her first visit to a library (barring a car hop in Chennai years ago), and she was quite excited.
Since it was a weekend, the Education City campus where Georgetown University is, was rather quiet. There were a few students lazing around in the library.
She knew she couldn't talk loudly, run around or get chatty with the folks there. She carried her own book to read, since there are no children's books available there.
The problem with O is that her whispers are quite loud. And so I told her unless it’s an emergency she can’t talk at all.
She sat with her Black Beauty till I browsed two rows. By the time I got to the third she was by my side, begging to be allowed to walk around with me. She was touching the books and soaking it all in, and I was feeling rather kicked that she was as enamoured by the rows of books at a university library, as she was by the Barbie nonsense in Toys ‘r’ Us.
I could see that obsession in her eyes that only a fellow book lover can empathise with.
She even managed to identify books she has seen me read. And then she decided to browse the magazines, happy to identify Obama and McCain on covers of magazines, and then totally tickled to find my magazines there too… pointing it out and patting me on the rump.
I was swelling up and was ready to burst – “not bad Umm, you haven’t done so badly as a mother”, I told myself; but (un)fortunately she managed to totally deflate me in the next 15 minutes.
Oh, it’s a long road ahead before I can even begin to congratulate myself.
When I sat down to read the magazine, wondering which other world leaders she would identify, she flipped through people magazine, quickly identifying every second or third picture of a celebrity. There is Miley, here is Grey (Ellen Pompei), here is Sex & the City lady (Sarah Jessica Parker, and oh please let this end), oh and Rachel (of Friends)… I quickly shut the magazine and shushed her… This is way too much Hollywood for a 7-year-old.
I diverted her attention and got her interested in the students on campus, and the opportunities a good education provides. For about 5 minutes.
Finally, I went up to the librarian to check out my books and O couldn’t digest that I was not really paying for the books –
“Even if you are just borrowing, you should pay them money, amma”
Yes, but they don’t take money.
“Oh, then they will really be poor.”
No. They have the money. This is a service that they provide. Something nice they do for the people.
“Even if you don’t give them money?”
Yes.

That’s when it really sunk in that she hasn’t see anything non-monetary yet. There is always a purchase, talk of money, about affording or not affording. She couldn’t believe that you can get something or do something that isn’t based on monetary gratifications.
The only life she is used to is of absolute materialism. As are most of us.
Then so many past conversations came back to haunt me on the drive back home.

Often, when I tell her something is expensive and wasteful, so I will not buy it, she would ask if we were poor! She has asked me so often if we get ‘richer’ will we have a convertible or 4X4? If we were richer, would we live in a big bungalow with a garden?

And here I was thinking that we were quite comfortably off. That our fair sized apartment had everything we needed, we had enough wheels to meet all our requirements… and yet in her mind, this was not ‘rich’.
We have spoken to her about it at length. That some people do have more than others. But what we have is far more than most. That we never want for anything. Obviously the message hasn’t really sunk in.

Only a day before the trip to the library she asked me what was more important, family or money. I have no idea where the question popped up from. “Family,” I said.
“For everyone?”
No for me. Each person has to decide on what is important to them.
“So I can say what I want”
Yes (and with butterflies in my stomach await her answer)
“I think it’s Money and Family for me.” (And she was watching my face for the slightest expression of disapproval and waiting for my response.)
That’s fine if that’s what you think.
“Because we won’t have anything without money.”
Yes. But if you don’t have people around you?
“Yes, that’s why both are important.”
Ok.

I did not want to continue this thread of conversation, because I knew I was on the verge of delivering a long right-wrong lecture. But I think she knew already that I didn’t quite agree with her.

It’s scary. What you are, what you are not; what you say, what you don’t say; what she sees, what she never gets to witness; what you protect her from, what she is exposed to… everything has an impact on her. What influence do parents really have at the end of the day?

The Unquirky me

2008-11-11T18:52:00.004+03:00

I tagged myself to this -- to reveal 5 quirky aspects of my personality. From wordjunkie & nithya -- two blogs I stumbled upon recently.

Now I thought this would be fun and easy. However, I realise that I can't think of anything quirky or unconventional about me. I am so BORING, and that depresses me.

When I really think about it, whatever I like to term as quirks are merely very annoying (to others) habits.

The one thing that comes close to quirky -- I like to wake up groggy 'overslept'. If I am able to wake up without a problem, or have a nap that is shorter than an hour, I feel very cheated.

Apart from that, zilch cute and nice and unconventional things I can honestly attribute to myself. I adjust to most situations, don't have a favourite blanket or teddy or whatever, and think through most issues with my head (even if the initial reaction had been emotional).

But I am going to take the liberty of listing other people's quirks that I find endearing, without mentioning names:

1. A friend not only goes around her car checking all the doors, but insists that whoever is with her double checks the locks too. She does the same with taps!
2. Another friend goes to sleep at 9 sharp. Come what may... even if she is in the midst of a boisterous group of people, she will just nod off.
3. Someone I know can't resist freebie offers. His wife tells me they have enough free mugs and spoons to set up a store.
4. O loves saying the word 'Pregnant' and uses it at least a dozen times a day. Either reminding me I am pregnant, or announcing to everyone she meets -- from the laundry man to the bored neighbour -- that her mother is pregnant. That's quirky quickly going sour...
5. A cousin of mine touches every idol or image of an idol at the home he is exiting (even if it's one he was only visiting, or one he was exiting for the 5th time that day). Can be quite tricky when you want to make a quick exit!

Now, in turn the tag automatically applies to anyone who reads this post.

Book Tag from Shyam

2008-11-09T13:21:00.003+03:00

How old were you when you learned to read and who taught you?
At school I guess… can’t remember the age exactly. But hooked to books ever since I can remember.

Did you own any books as a child? If so, what's the first one that you remember owning? If not, do you recall any of the first titles that you borrowed from the library?I remember buying Gandhi’s My Experiments with Truth. Because we had to and my dad gave me the money for that.

What's the first book that you bought with your own money?Oh, can’t remember. But it was after my first part time job when I was 16.

Were you a re-reader as a child? If so, which book did you re-read most often?Yes. The Chalet School and Malory Towers series. Even now I am a re-reader. That’s why I buy books that I like, instead of borrowing them.

What's the first adult book that captured your interest and how old were you when you read it?
Jane Eyre & Great Expectations. I read the abridged versions when I was about 10, and then later the originals. I love GE especially.

Are there children's books that you passed by as a child that you have learned to love as an adult? Which ones?
Amar Chitra Kathas. I now read it with my daughter, though didn’t read comics as a child myself, as my dad thought it was detrimental to my other interests!

I am tagging EVERYONE who is reading this and hasn't done it yet.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

2008-11-09T12:44:00.003+03:00

Despite our zillion other similarities (visible only to my schiz mind), Oprah and I don't always agree on her book selection. Still I picked up The Road because it had an interesting plot. The journey of a father and son in a post apocalyptic world; fighting and dodging cannibals... and their continuous banter that displays the fears and hopes of each.
As a book and plot it is an interesting read. But I found the style tiresome. Monosyllabic dialogue exchange, often repetitive, can be tough on the mind and eyes.
And worse still is the arbitrary approach to punctuation. There seems to be a general aversion to commas, making many sentences difficult to comprehend on first read.
Also the use of apostrophes. While he uses he'd (he had) it's (it is), it's just havent, dont, aint, wont (won't it be confused with wont?)... I am not sure if this is contemporary style and is acceptable. But it gnawed at me.
Maybe someone more well-versed and effortlessly fluent in editing and grammar (Shyam?) can explain this.

O Plus Tales II

2008-11-07T12:30:00.000+03:00

O & I are discussing how Plus should address her. I am adamant that she be called O-akka or O-chechi. But O wants to know why she can't just be O to her little sibling.
She addresses all her older cousins by name, because they insisted she does, even though I was not too thrilled about it.

I have three older sisters, and I address the oldest (nearly 13 years my senior) as I-ka. The other 2 are just C & M (9 & 6 years older), as they thought it was not too hip to be addressed as akka. Well, these two wannabe hipsters are also responsible for the long, unusual combination of a name that I have.

I address all my older cousins as akka or anna. I love the way it sounds. Unfortunately, I am amongst the youngest of all the cousins, so don't have anyone calling me akka.

I am trying to explain all this to O -- that sometimes these titles do help in the bonding. That my bond with her I-periamma is that much more special because I address her as akka... and I know because of that she is far more forgiving and tolerant of my quirks than the others.

When I have these conversations with O, R gives me that knowing look which reads: Stop brainwashing her.

The last time he did that I snapped. Many of his younger cousins call him R-achayan, and he seems to enjoy that, and his sister is always addressed as A-chechi, so why give me these looks? I am after all allowing her to choose between chechi and akka.

I've got a clear 3 months to continue with my persuasion. And then another 9-10 months before Plus actually learns to say the word.

Good luck to me.

The Ungreen Thumb

2008-11-06T16:23:00.000+03:00

I have the opposite of a green thumb, and though I have gotten over the initial desperation, something still pricks (and it ain't a thorn in my rose bush!).
I have even managed to kill a potted cactus (and I live in a desert!).
My mum, mil, sister are all fantastic gardners, and can grow just about anything. But me? A green tragedy.
And I get terribly jealous when I see other bloggers like Shyam and MG boast about their gardens, i want to do a 'me too' post.

A few months ago I bought a 'money plant' for O's school project. Supposed to be the easiest plant to grow.
I wish I could say it now looks like this:

Despite me staying away from it and R & O tending to it, it now looks like this:

O refuses to get rid of it, and waters it, in the hope that it will come back to life!

To make up for my 'brown' thumb & deadly vibes, I make do with these (sigh!)...

I Love Being Amma, BECAUSE

2008-11-05T19:45:00.001+03:00

Because for the first time in my life, someone was dependent on me.
I am the youngest of 4 kids, so was always babied, and hardly ever depended upon! I ended up marrying someone who is fiercely self-sufficient and independent. And I have no particular wifely skills that made him dependent on me. But as Amma I am needed and loved in the most unbelievably gratifying manner.

Because of her I respect my body and myself more.
I am no longer ashamed of or embarrassed by my body. This body protected her. The breasts, that have always been a matter of discomfort for me, nurtured her. And when I pant or feel unfit, I worry that I may not be the healthy mother she deserves, so I try and set things right. I try and work out, add more greens into my food, cut down the junk. I haven’t fully succeeded in this, but at least she got me trying.

Because for the first time in my life, I am not totally selfish or self-obsessed.
Yes, there are times when for the sake of a nap I would allow the telly to baby sit O. And I often take the easy way out and give her maggi or happy meal for dinner. But by and large, I put her interests above mine, and feel good about it.

Because my work seems less exciting/important than her activities/social life.
In a heartbeat I would turn down an interesting travel assignment or meeting, if it’s her annual day/birthday/sports day/PTA meeting.

Because she has made me aware of the need for financial security.
Till she arrived in our lives, I would fight R’s every effort to save and invest. I want the ‘here and now’ thrill of money. I didn’t want to save for the ‘future’ at the cost of the present. But after O’s arrival, one of the first things I did after I got back to work was start a long-term investment plan.

Because she has made me so much more tolerant and understanding of people.
She is a social animal. She loves to surround herself with people. Friends, neighbours, family… she pines for their company when alone. She makes friends everywhere she goes, and she maintains the relationship so well. Calls, play dates (that she arranges herself), an attempt to include her friends and their mothers in my life. For her sake, I bite down my judgemental, opinionated reactions, and open my mind to better experiences.

Because of her I take more effort to dress well.
Jeans and loose shirts were all that I wore. And then I realised that she liked seeing me dressed up – by dressed up I mean, not look totally like a wash out. She loves the way my sisters and friends match accessories, and take time over their dressing. So now, I do it. Though R is always vocal when he fancies something I wear or a look I sport, it still takes O’s little dance and gushing, for me to get into groove. I spend a few minutes extra over my dressing when I take her out or have to drop her in school. I don’t want her to be embarrassed by how I turn out.

Because of her I am careful about my prejudices and biases.
Even if I can’t get over it totally, I don’t make my hang-ups public. I also try and find a middle ground. I don’t want her to grow up imbibing all my quirks.
Because she forgives me so often and so willingly.
I have a temper. A quick nasty one. And I know it’s not easy to forgive. But she does every time. I feel terrible that she does. Terrible AND nice that she does. Because of which I am constantly working on it, and trying to keep it under control.

Because she reaffirmed the power of the hug.
Hugs any time of the day, for any occasion, or for no reason at all. Fantastic, amazing, incomparable power of the hug.

Because she is a tireless negotiator, who is always teaching me new tactics.
Like she still hasn’t given up convincing me that Barbies are not all bad. Little does she know that I had a set myself till I was 16 or 17! Trying to get me to buy her one, she wanted to know if I would be happy if she selected a dark-skinned, Indian Barbie… and that’s when I realised that she knew my prejudices too well. That I had a problem with the blonde-blue eyed ones she had. She is yet to realise I have a problem with their figure too… But she is a right little diplomat, who explains things to me without losing heart or temper. I am learning, still.

Because she makes me fall in love again and again.

Because you can never be sure of yourself.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

2008-11-05T12:25:00.001+03:00

**may contain spoilers**

It was quite by chance that I picked up this book by Ishiguro. I had heard of him, but have never read any of his books.
But something about the cover appealed to me, so I checked it out of the library.
It's not a new book. It's about 3 years old.
And I am sure reading it now is a scarier experience than when it was first published.
The book jacket gave away nothing of the plot, so every page threw up a clue, a surprise.
Though the main plot is revealed well before the half-way point, it continues as a gripping read.
The book raises so many issues on ethics, science, research... but does it without melodrama.
Jodi Picoult raises quite a few questions in her My Sister’s Keeper. But that book, though a great read, was all drama.
This on the other hand is so composed and understated that it's like being hit with a wet towel. It doesn't hurt, it stings.

In case, you are still wondering about reading this book or not, may be this will push you to decide. The story revolves around students of a school for clones, bred for organ donation. But it is not science fiction (not like Asimov or Banks at least) -- it's a love story, it's a story about friends, a story about hope, a tragedy, a warning that we just may be messing way too much with nature.

I can't wait to pick up his other works.

yipppppppppppeeeeeeeeeeee it's Obama

2008-11-05T09:04:00.004+03:00

He is not even my president, but why am I so excited?
Cos he's HOT!

Listless without a list

2008-11-04T13:50:00.009+03:00

If anything must be done, it HAS to be listed!
I can’t quite figure out when this became a habit, a compulsion, a dependency.
I can put a dozen reminders on my mobile; Red flag every mail on outlook; Have all my colleagues remind me of a task; Place post-its on my desk… still the work is likely to remain pending.
But the minute I list them in my little book (a blue one at present), under the date it needs to be accomplished on, the work is done.

No bullets or stars here, it has to be numbered. It gives me a sense of purpose.
So I know that, say today, I have 8 things to finish. And I will go through them one after the other, scoring out with great relish the tasks that are complete.
Once I list tasks in my book, they take priority over every other distraction. I won’t even login to the blog or facebook (my other obsessions) till I am done with the list.

Since I can’t freely pass my blue book around, I have excel sheets for every eventuality and task at work, for the team.
Magazine schedules, weekly schedules, daily schedules… my excel buddy helps me out.
At home I have a little brown book in which I list my personal tasks. Shopping lists, wish lists, to call lists.

I am obsessed with my lists.

Humour me (I’m pregnant!)… how do you get your tasks done? You just remember them (yeah, very smart of you), put reminders on your mobile, post-its, or you have a secretary who does your work for you?

Maternity Break. Loving maternity, dreading break!

2008-11-04T12:43:00.003+03:00

For nearly two years now, I’ve been worrying and fussing about what is now of immediate concern to me.
My maternity break.
I knew that I would be having a second one, either biologically or otherwise; I absolutely wanted to. Yet a gnawing fear on how we would manage.

When I was pregnant with O over 7 years ago, I quit my job in the third trimester and stayed at home till she was about 20 months old. She had to go to a baby sitter next door only for a couple of hours a day, 3-4 days a week. Since R works evenings, our situation was/is better than many other families in a similar fix. (He took care of O during the day and will do the same for Plus too.)
However, this time around, quitting my job is not an option. For one, we CAN’T AFFORD it, financially. For the other, I am finally realising the benefits of what I’ve worked hard for the last five years in my job. I am unwilling to give all that up right now.

Call me selfish… but the profession I am in is not something I stumbled upon or wandered into unplanned. It’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was 14 or 15. It’s something I started working towards while still in college. In many ways, for someone who plans so little, this choice alone was well thought out. A choice I made over other far more lucrative opportunities that came my way.
I want very little in life, but the little I want, I want it all… not sure if it makes sense. I WANTED/WANT my child to be born in India. That means a longer maternity break. I WANTED/WANT my children to be exclusively breast-fed, and that means a longer period of flexi-hours. I WANT Plus to have the dedicated attention O received. I DON’T WANT to terminate a career that has taken off rather well in recent years. I WANT the financial comfort we enjoy now, to continue. I am SCARED that all my WANTS are in conflict with each other.
This is my personal angst.

I agree that losing a trained employee for 4-5-6 months may cause some inconvenience for the company. But that’s where planning comes in, isn’t it?
We (the world) can’t afford to keep women out of the workforce. We need them… to meet the numbers, and also because of the expertise a large number of them provide.
What has happened now is that women are being ‘accommodated’ in structures/operations that are outdated.
Efforts to integrate women into the workplace have been add-ons of sorts. ‘Add-ons’ that need to fit in with an existing structure. The reason newer industries attract more women to its muster is because they have been established from scratch, keeping in mind a mixed work atmosphere. For instance, IT, PR, new media…

MadMomma in her recent post talks about this, and there is a great debate going on in the comments section.
This is a universal problem: conflict of the role of women in workplaces, equal opportunities (as against equality), and the personal torment of balancing work and home is universal.

A survey published by the European Equal Opportunities Commission in February 2005 highlights the extent to which pregnant women and new mothers experience discrimination in the workplace.
• 7% of working women were either dismissed, made redundant or left their jobs due to pregnancy discrimination;
• 45% of women who had worked while pregnant said they experienced 'tangible discrimination' such as denial of training opportunities and changes in job description;
• 21% had faced discrimination that may have led directly to financial loss;
• 5% were put under pressure to hand in their notice after announcing their pregnancy; and
• only half the women had a health and safety risk assessment carried out.

In this context, it’s fantastic that the Indian Government has done this. Six months maternity break and two years of paid leave that can be availed anytime before the child turns 18!

In Qatar, women are eligible to 50 days of paid leave from the date of delivery, as maternity leave. And following that, for a year, they can deduct 1 hour per working day, to be taken at their convenience, to support breast feeding.
Not enough, but something to begin with.

We cannot ignore or neglect our primary role. A majority of working women are homemakers too, and that role cannot be compromised. It’s like a house of cards, this card at the very bottom of the pyramid, holding the rest up. Pull that vital card out or displace it, and the rest will come tumbling down.
If a woman chooses to pursue a career in addition to running a home and family, it is in EVERYONE’s larger interest to make it possible: Not easy, just possible. And that would probably mean flexi-hours, tele-commute, and newer ideas that I can’t quite figure out right now.
We need to think more about this. And by ‘we’ I don’t mean women alone.

When I visited the CISCO campus in San Jose a couple of years ago, I almost regretted all the well-paid IT jobs I turned down at the NIIT placement, because I wanted to go for the unpaid internship at Indian Express. Who knows, I would have ended up in San Jose, with my brood of 6 children, instead of the O + Plus I am currently content with.
Every work floor at CISCO’s sprawling campus has a nursing room, complete with facilities to express and store breast milk. And within the campus is a superbly outfitted crèche.
Just perfect, guilt-free working. You take your child to work, and every time you sense a guilt pang, just walk up to the crèche for some cuddling/feeding/kissing/hugging. Mother happy. Child happy. Employer happy, because they don’t have train someone new every time an employee decides to procreate. Win-Win situation.

Back to the present and the future that’s looming large. I have a great relationship with my company, and so far both the management and colleagues have been supportive of the occassional lethargic mornings, forgetfulness and general feeling of distraction. But so far, work hasn’t been affected, as I pull myself out of momentary lapses rather quickly.
I would be fooling myself if I said this pregnancy hasn’t affected me professionally, at all.
I worry and worry some more. Four months out of circulation? And then many more months of restricted circulation… what value would my currency hold?

PS: A tiny part of this is taken from an editorial I wrote for one of my magazines.

Too many thoughts whirling through my mind...

2008-10-31T00:13:00.004+03:00

...and not all of them very clear or cohesive. So I am just going to post something that is really worth a read.

MadMomma wrote this.

Meanwhile, Ammani had commented on a previous post that "we would all be better off if we had fewer religions and frankly, a little less of God." Yes, I agree.

And she also said: "They are not discussions but people merely putting forth ideas that they are already convinced of. I do not for a minute believe that anyone concerned would've changed their views one bit. It is merely an exercise in vain."

This I can't agree with. These ARE discussions. And if it has a positive impact on at least one person, it is not an exercise in vain. We are not born with our prejudices and opinions; that comes only with experience and discussion...

As I said, I am muddling through a zillion thoughts, a lot of which makes me terribly queasy and uncomfortable... I am also 'overthinking' this. In bed, while driving, at work, sometimes even when I am reading a book... I am worried about a lot that is happening around me and within me.

So when I can think of this soberly and with a little less emotion, I will put down my thoughts.

Finally, they say it!

2008-10-30T10:20:00.005+03:00

PS: Unfortunately, there is no weblink. Click on the image to enlarge. If this is not readable -- and believe me, you HAVE to read the entire thing -- then tell me and I will upload a larger image.

Priceless Gavaskar

2008-10-30T10:15:00.002+03:00

And I don't mean it a nice way.

Just when the Blue Caps were moving away from being a team of record-setters to a record-setting team, here is what Mr Sunny Gavaskar comes up with, during the 2nd day of the 3rd Test between Aus & India.
Priceless.

Soon after VVS Lakshman scores a century and Gautham Gambhir is a dozen short of his double, Sunny Bhai says:

"Just as Gambhir helped Lakshman reach his 100, not playing foolish shots, now it's Lakshman's turn to help Gambhir reach his 200."

Excuse me, how about some winning advice instead? That they set a big enough score by end of day for the Aussies. After all we have enough wickets in hand.

O Plus Tales I

2008-10-29T22:17:00.003+03:00

Yesterday we went for a 2nd tri scan.

This was the first time O was seeing Plus, and she has been waiting for this for a while. Though she couldn't quite grasp what or how she would see inside my stomach, and was a little worried that the doctor would split me open for her benefit, so she could catch a glimpse of Plus.

At the first scan of Plus, R & I were excited. R is the kind who expresses his excitement with a big grin, and responds to mine with big 'yeahs'.

I talk. Really talk. And O is the Umm's bint in this... she gets all giggly and high-strung and chatty.

So it was an awesome experience to see Plus with her by my side. And probably sensing the presence of chechi/akka (more of that later)... it moved and waved its hands and legs and put up quite a show for her.

And she spoke about the scan non-stop the whole day. She told everyone she met that she saw "'our baby' in my mother's stomach". She wanted to know how the gel and the scan strobe transmitted the image of the baby on to the screen, what the doctor was doing on the computer, how the baby got in, when it will get out...

She woke me up to the whole miracle of nature and technology. Just when I was getting impatient with the long wait ahead, and tiring a bit... she injected energy into this pregnancy.

It's so wonderful to see things from a child's point of view -- because they take so little for granted, they don't shy away from expressing their amazement, and are not embarrassed to show their excitement.

Marriage Stereotypes and the ‘Catches’ we make!

2008-10-27T11:20:00.001+03:00

I seem to be doing this way too often. Linking other people's post, and expostulating on it. Why don't I just comment there or shut up?
Probably because I’m a journalist, so when I run out of ideas, I rehash other people’s cues.

Anyways, this is to MG's post -- I was splitting up after reading this. How inane is that dry cleaner lady? Silly woman.
About 9-10 years ago, in a situation like that, I would have gotten terribly upset. But now I just find it ridiculously funny.
Why do typecast people in a relationship?

When my relationship with R took a serious turn and we decided to get married (or rather our families decided for us), a friend (yep, a friend hmmpph!) snidely commented to me, "quite a catch, huh?"

I was STUNNED. What shit was that?

We not only had similar educational and professional backgrounds, I in fact had a few extra diplomas thrown in.
She hardly knew R to decide he was a catch in any other way, unless she thought her dumpy, bespectacled friend was marrying a not-so dumpy and un-bespectacled man?

And even if I had been illiterate with no future prospects and looked like the backside of an ass, and he was the heir to the Gates’ fortune and looked like Clooney, how the hell can anyone use that phrase ‘a catch’.

Is marriage a charity? If two people decide to wed, they must have their reasons. Even if it’s an arranged marriage. There is no question of one being a catch over another.

Probably because I am far more secure in my relationship, and am older and wiser (!) I can laugh this off…

Like this conversation between Acquaintance 1 & 2, which a ‘pal’ reported to me not only verbatim, but with her share of insights.

Acq1 (who at that point had met R & me for all of 90mts, half of which was with a group of people): V & R are very different.
Acq 2 (who knows me professionally and has only had a glimpse of R): Oh, yes. They are. He is very nice.
Acq 1: Absolutely. So different. He is very sweet.
Pal to me: How can they jump to conclusions, they hardly know you.

ME to R, my sounding board: What the eff! Whether they jumped to conclusions or not, Pal was sure they did… And what difference does it make to me to get opinions of people I don’t know or care for? Why was this even reported to me?

That’s the whole problem with expectations, marriages or any relationships. The two parties are placed on a balance with their plusses and minuses.

Absolutely no one outside of the two would know the truth of the relationship or the reasons why it works (or doesn’t). So why talk about catches and one being too good for the other?

So whether MG looks or really is romantic, or not, it was really not that stupid dry cleaner’s business. It’s for MG and her husband to know and find out!

Overcompensating

2008-10-26T11:13:00.004+03:00

Yesterday evening at work, after calling for a meeting earlier in the day, I completely forget about it, pack up and walk out of the office – only to hear my colleagues running after me and reminding me that there was a meeting scheduled.
Sheepish, embarrassed and terribly hungry, I head back in.
“We understand, we forgive you,” laughed one colleague.
And another piped up: “Would you be using this is as a trump card now?”
‘This’ referring to my pregnancy.
I was a little taken aback, but knew that the guys were only pulling my leg, so laughed it off.
There I was trying to overcompensate every aspect of my life, so that people don’t turn around and tell me that I am slipping up because of my ‘condition’.
The professional risk is that such slip-ups may well follow in a sweeping generalisation on why women at workplaces pose a problem.
So I’ve been taking on more work than I would usually.
And to top it all, ‘mommy guilt’ is working overtime. In an effort to ensure O doesn’t feel she is missing out on stuff because of Plus, I am on overdrive on that front too.
In any case, after the meeting, just as I was shaking off the embarrassment and trying to set right my hunger, I started to panic. I remembered something else. Earlier in the day, in conversation with a colleague, I couldn’t for the life of me recollect the name of the book I am presently reading. That rarely ever happens to me. I don’t forget names, faces, dates very easily; and here I was 2 hours after reading a few pages, lost for the title.
Is it my old fear? Or can I conveniently blame it on my pregnancy? This once, I wanted to use the pregnancy as an excuse.
And voila, a quick search online reveals that yes, it’s possible. According to Babycenter.Com “Forgetfulness may be your cue to simplify your life.”
But I don’t remember experiencing this during my first pregnancy – or maybe, I am forgetting that as well!

Happy Birthday to my O

2008-10-26T07:44:00.000+03:00

O turns 7 today. and V completes 7 years as the UMM.
Happy Birthday to my kutty chellam.

Where does education begin?

2008-10-25T12:59:00.005+03:00

Today R & I went to O's school for Open Day.
While some of us parked the car at a distance and walked the few 100 metres to the school, the rest were jamming the entrance to the school, creating total traffic chaos.
Not satisfied with having done this, they were blasting their horns and trying to nudge their cars through impossibly narrow openings, paying no heed to the pedestrians.
O (and to a small extent me too -- but my hormones are awry and I am cranky) complained all the way to school on how she was made to walk, while others were being driven to the gates of the school.
R turned angrily at us and said the parents need to be educated first on how to behave on the roads.
We shut up and sweated our way to school and back.
The very same parents who totally disregarded traffic rules and common road sense outside, were so concerned about the education of their child. Some parents spent up to half an hour with the teacher (Grade I, mind you!) worrying about the child's grasp of subjects, potential for success, handwriting and what have you!
Grade I for goodness' sake... What do we know about the child's potential at that age?
They wore out the chairs and the teachers with their long, tiresome quizzing.

"Why so little homework? Why aren't they studying more in school? Why isn't my 6/7-year-old a genius?"
The teachers actually seemed relieved at those parents whose bums barely grazed the seats... 'so my child is decently behaved, and does decent work? thank you, very much, ma'salamah'...

Back out on the road, and the wannabe-parents of geniuses were at their best behaviour -- jumping lanes, honking pedestrians, blocking entrances.

What message are they conveying to their kids? Be obnoxious and self-centred every where, and in school make sure you get cent per cent in all your subjects.

YOU don't have to prove anything!!!!!!!

2008-10-25T12:10:00.004+03:00

Southways is angry -- an anger I can understand and face quite often.
If my post made people like her or anyone else to prove their Indian-ness, I must apologise.
As most opinions or emotions go, this is also very much guided by personal experiences.
When my husband or his family criticise the BJP or RSS, people tend to smirk saying because they are Christians. It angers me. They criticise them because they are Indians with a vote! I used to defend them saying my father in law served the country in the army, my husband's greatest ambition was to be part of the armed forces (though it didn't happen)... until I realised that what I was doing was wrong. Why the hell should they prove anything to anybody?
Everytime people say something about Christians I want to tell them, 'oh but my husband believes in buying only Indian made stuff'... sometimes it slips out, but most often I bite my tongue. Because, as he says he doesn't 'effing have to prove anything to anyone'.
So I can understand Southways anger.

I wrote the 'comments' on the post reading Broom, MM and MG. Not the posts. I would have to be semi-literate or illiterate to question MM's Indian-ness.

But in defense of what I said earlier -- I believe in nationhood. And I do feel we need to work together as Indians, we need to all put our Indian-ness over our religious preferences.

There are people who don't believe in the concept of nation-hood. that's their problem.
I believe in it. So every argument and defence from me would be from that stand.

And yes, it would help if not all comments towards Hindus/Hinduism is negative. It would help even more if there are some positive comments thrown our way.
I say this, because I am a Hindu. What is so wrong with that?

That was my basic premise. Don't demonise us! And don't twist a simple post into a PhD thesis on religious differences. For goodness' sake, give me a break!

About Dave's comments on my earlier post, half of which I don't understand, and the other half I don't agree with, I can only say this.
You don't believe in the concept of 'Nation'; I not only believe in it, it is EXTREMELY important to me. So after this there is really nothing we can argue about that would make sense to either of us. But say you are travelling in India, and Hindu mob roughs you up, my guess is, it would be the goverment that represents your 'nation' that bails you out of the mess. Not Iain Banks or Radiohead!

1,2,3 Mic Testing. Speaking for the Hindu...

2008-10-23T14:07:00.003+03:00

Lots and lots and lots of discussions on the subject of religion, in the blog world. I had posted about this a couple of months ago.
Some that are worth a read are here: MumbaiGirl, MadMomma and Broom. I agree to the larger argument, but disagree with certain issues within.
I could have commented in detail on those blogs (I did comment on one, briefly) – but then of what use is this space?
I am not going to get into a point by point argument or agreement.

What I noticed in the comments on above blogs is this: There were apologetic/defensive/offensive Hindus. Many seemed genuinely ashamed by the way some from their community behaved. There were many who said really nice things about friends from other communities.
But from the Christian and Muslim readers, anger seemed to be the main emotion. They don’t have nice things to say about the 600 million Hindu Indians they know or Hinduism itself? Really? Why?
The main premise of the argument for tolerance is that there should be no generalisation. But it takes two to tango.
I do get annoyed that when we talk about religious tolerance or doing the right thing, it is invariably targeted at Hindus (in the Indian context, at least).

Yes, we do have a larger responsibility, being in the majority. We need to be more conscious of our actions. But that does not absolve other communities of their responsibilities. How about making a few accommodations too?
And the increasing tendency for those from minority religions in India to paint themselves as victims all the time, is something I can’t digest. Can’t they find anything redeeming in the country they call home? In their fellow national of other religions? Is there no one amongst them who are doing well, enjoying the best of opportunities, living a good life?
While it is understandable that when you are in the minority your insecurity tends to be a tad more pronounced, it is also important not to paint the entire Hindu community as villains.
There is no excusing Khandamal or Godhra. It’s a shame that we never will be able to erase or live down. But amongst a billion population in a country as huge and diverse as ours, please don’t tell me you can’t find any reprieve.
Domination of one religion over another, discrimination based on religion, killings, marginalisation – it’s there everywhere. It’s been there for centuries and centuries. And the fact that we are not used to it still, says a lot in favour of the whole human race. It means that most of us are still fair and tolerant and are hoping for a more ‘equal’ world to live in.

PS: I used to think I am an atheist. But I am not. I am way too spiritual and believe in Karma above all else. I am totally irreligious, but Hinduism shaped my identity.
PS: And if you thing I am member-in-waiting for VHP or Bajrang Dal, that’s your problem!

Edited to Add a comment by ME on MG's post. It just made a lot of sense to me, so adding it here.

the thing that strikes me is how everybody seems to have generalized everybody else.
Growing up outside of India, I never though being a Christian in India made me a minority. In fact, as a kid vacationing in Kerala, i thought all the parts of India were like mine - where you woke up to the bhajans, call to prayers from the mosque and the church bells - all nicely living side by side - a bit naive I know, but i don’t think the religion divide registered in my psyche.
I don’t remember religion as being an issue in my Indian school in the GUlf.
I do remember randoms getting hecked up about the North - South Divide and in college about the Mal - Tamil divide: talk about inane.

i guess what i am trying to say is - uh? Is this really such a big problem
And when did it become an issue on the scale of minority vs. majority? As far as I can see, you can’t really tell who’s a minority in India by looking at their face as opposed to the West (or more specifically the US) where the colour of your skin clearly marks one out as a minority.
And really, when did reading a couple of random blogs make anybody an authority on what the entire Hindu, Christian or Muslim community thinks?
<>
For this Christian reader, it’s more like bewilderment that this non-issue could even be an issue.

Good news finally. Congrats, Indians.

2008-10-22T07:54:00.011+03:00

Just when it was all depressing and awful news from India, 2 days in a row something to be proud of.

India kicked Aussies' ass -- and without too much controversy.

Vish Anand is on a roll. Again!

And today we launched our Moon Mission, Chandrayaan.

Not that any of this in any way erases the despicable and tragic Khandamal or the 'Nut Case' Thackeray's campaign or the zillion other problems that plague us.

These moments of pride prove we are not a country full of despots, bigots and idiots.

That match we won was a fantastic effort by a team that personifies India's diversity.
Ditto the team that launched Chandrayaan.
And about Vish Anand -- do we really need to say anything at all!

What do you feel about the financial crisis?

2008-10-21T11:28:00.003+03:00

This is a real comprehensive and clear picture of the financial crisis for those interested to know more or understand the issue.

Two bloggers I follow – Mad Momma & MumbaiGirl have commented about the crisis.
And I am kind of guilty of what they say. When the first news of the crash started coming in, and reports of all the super rich, over paid executives losing their jobs started flooding the media, I felt gleeful – petty, but gleeful all the same!

It just seemed so unfair that failed CEOs were walking away with multi-million dollar severance packages. Where is the justice in this? I understand that lay-offs affect a larger portion of the employees, many of whom have not yet bought their Ferraris and homes by the beach. It also affects those who are hoping to put their children through a good college education, to ensure a sound financial future for themselves… normal people like me and those I move around with.

Still…

Both being journalists (R & I), with a ringside view of the rich getting richer, our opinions are often one part socialism, one part pure envy and one part facts.

Of course, now with our investments (meagre to begin with) standing at half its original value, we feel the pinch too. We just wish those overpaid CEOs and honchos alone were hit, leaving the everyday investor unaffected.
In a perfect world, that would be the case.

In a perfect world, all of us would be rich, a size 10, enjoying multiple-orgasms, retired at 40 and totally free of envy. But this is not a perfect world. It’s a world full of Thackerays, Palins, Bin Ladens & Ashok Singhals.

It’s a world full of inequalities, and sometimes that means when someone falls, someone else will gloat. Because objectivity is not a natural human impulse. It’s a studied and developed attitude.

Privileged, indeed

2008-10-19T12:30:00.006+03:00

Reading this reminded me once again how lucky R, O, Plus & I are.

Let’s start at the very beginning. R is a Malayalee Syrian Christian & I am a Tamil Hindu. At least, by birth, we are this. And as the fairy tale goes, we met, we were stupid, we married, and we are trying to live happily ever after **silly smiley**.

Were our parents concerned about our choice? Yes.

Were they worried about what family and friends would think of this union? Yes.

Did they think that our different religions would pose a problem in future, especially once children make an appearance? Yes.

Did they express their doubts, concerns, and worries to us? Yes.

Did they disapprove of our decision? Maybe, in some remote parts of their heart and mind.

Did they make us feel like villains or victims? NO!

Did they make a public spectacle of their concerns? NO!

Once they were done asking questions and we were done answering them, did they nag us? NO!

Did they support us? Yes! Even when some nosey-parkers tried to interfere they were politely (and sometimes, not so politely) asked to buzz off.

Did they make us feel welcome and part of the family? Yes!

Did they ever, ever, ever again in the 10 years of marriage bring up any of their initial concerns? Not to date!

Did the birth of their grandchild, and the expectation of another, rear the ugly head of religious ownership? No.

Did a request of Baptism, Hindu naming ceremony or any other religious procedure ever come up? No.

Would they like it if we volunteered? Of course, they would love it. But they are not unhappy and sulky that we don’t.

It is not that the families, most of whom are religious, had no reservations. It’s the fact that they put our interests above their prejudices. Their priority was that their son/daughter-brother/sister was happy.

I’ve gotten so used to the hassle-free life that I forget inter-religious marriages anywhere in the world is strife-ridden.

In our case it helped that neither of us were religious practitioners. We believe in the concept of goodness and express it in ways our birth religion has influenced us to.
Our daughter now gets similar indoctrination.
What is wonderful about my family and R’s is that the much dreaded change-of-heart that people predicted post first child, never happened.

I used to be extremely sensitive to the situation and look out for the faintest hint of religious ownership. After several false accusations, I realized that I only ended up looking stupid and petty in front of people who were being really understanding and tolerant of my immaturity.
R on the other hand doesn’t care. While I am uncomfortable when his aunts invite me for a prayer meeting and fuss with him, he says he would attend one if my family invited him, because he would be happy that they thought he should be included. The point is, I fuss even if my aunts or uncles invite me for their prayers and bhajans.

But we are very different people, and I am more of the fault-finding type.

But I am also the count-your-blessings types… and this is one I should count a million times over.

Dirty Indians

2008-10-18T16:45:00.002+03:00

Why is it that Indian shops and restaurants pay such scant regard to hygiene?
Our homes are fine. Our bathrooms at home, though always wet, is quite neat and clean. But what happens to us in public? Why are our public conveniences so filthy? Why do we behave like stray dogs, pissing and shitting as we please?
Let's blame the folks who run the supermarkets, stores and restaurants for not cleaning up after their clients. However, the painful truth is that those who use it have poor hygiene and no concern for the person using the toilet after them.
For example, the Lulu Hypermarket here, offers the best deals on just about everything. Except the loos. Given that it's a hypermarket, one would expect them not to scrounge on toilet rolls, washing fluid and hand wash. Given that they have a footfall of anything between 5000-12,000 a day, one would also expect them to employ a full time washroom attendant.
But Lulu easily has one of the filthiest washrooms in the city. One of the main reasons I don't patronise the place.
The other contenders for dirtiest loos all happen to be Indian supermarkets or restaurants.
Yesterday, we went to Vasantha Bhavan here. Excellent vadais and pongals. And a loo that could easily have emptied our stomach of all the delicacies.
When we complained -- and O had to use the bathroom urgently -- the manager had it cleaned immediately. He then told us that they do keep cleaning it, but people just seem to mess it up so badly.
Would these people leave their home bathrooms in that state? Unflushed, tissues all over the place, wet toilet seats? Would they not make an attempt to clean it up for the sake of their family? Do they have to turn this selfish once outside their homes?
Amongst the southern states, it's worst in TN. Not only do people think it's ok to pee and crap where they please, they think loos are meant to be dirty. I don't know about AP, but I do know that in Kerala and Karnataka, public conveniences are not such a nightmare.
Here, joints visited by Arabs and Indians have the worst hygiene. The Filipinos and others from the Far East, keep their washrooms clean. The westerners again keep it dry and neat. Even the bars that pissed drunk westerners go to, have cleans loos. So it's rather embarrassing that a dirty loo would immediately translate into one used by us.
I am so angry. So embarrassed.
When I see people leave the loo in an unusable state, I feel like dragging them back in and forcing them to clean it up with their bare hands! Disgusting idiots.

incontinence

2008-10-17T12:05:00.003+03:00

i can call it blogging, or i can be honest and call it verbal incontinence. every bit of crap that passes through my mind finds a home out here...

and i am not alone. most blogging is just that, right?

fun, though!

your ego, your space, your crap.

Bloody nonsense

2008-10-17T11:50:00.003+03:00

Nonsense. How the eff does it affect us or is any of our concern. It is the internal problem of Sri Lanka, so why do the bloody TN politicans think they can mess around? Haven't we had enough problems as it is, around this issue?
And don't we have enough problems begging to be resolved in our own country and in the state.
If we interfere in Lanka, then we should not complain about Pakistan interfering in Kashmir!
And coming back to Lankan Tamils -- hasn't that despot Prabhakaran fought against every effort towards peace? He is a warmonger... no longer fighting for a cause, but making fighting itself the cause.

Ram's namaz break...

2008-10-16T10:30:00.000+03:00

A must read link

There is hope indeed...

now, it's about hindi

2008-10-15T21:43:00.002+03:00

Earlier, it wasn't it. I was only talking about Tamil pride or rather the lack of it.
Then mumbaigirl made an interesting comment on my post. After all, it's not the national language. It is one of the official languages.
I know Hindi haters -- but I ain't one of those. I am too fascinated by languages and communication to dislike any language. Least of all something that has lent itself to so much modernisation and slangs. much like English really.
what I have a problem with is that the Hindi-speakers expect the whole country to prostrate before it and them.
yes, TN fought tooth and nail against imposition of Hindi. but even then, Tamil was never made compulsory at schools in the state. Kannada is compulsory in Karnataka, Marathi in Maharashtra...
What I don't understand is that why the whole country has to adhere to a language, just because those to whom it is the first language can't be bothered to adapt?
You can manage with English in Madras, and most parts of TN. Can we say the same of UP or MP or Bihar?
It seems like the states that have moved on continue to be penalised for the backwardness of the rest.
The representation in Lok Sabha for instance is one MP per X population. So those states that paid no heed to population control form our majority representation... do I need to add that they are also ill educated and ill behaved?
Just take a look at the LS State wise list.
Why do states like Kerala, Karnataka, Gujarat, TN, Maharashtra, Punjab, Haryana (all with excellent social indicators and/or industrial growth, contributing largely to the overall development of the country) have fewer representation than Bihar, Uttar Pradesh...
So the minority law makers from the first set of states are up against the rather repressive majority bunch from the latter set.
Shouldn't there be a reward for development.
Now back to lingo:
The language we choose to embrace is our personal choice. There can't be a government stricture on that. Neither can there be social pressure from the bullies.
Those smart enough will know what language to choose to survive.
So if your livelihood is in Delhi, you bloody well will learn Hindi, if it's in Mumbai, you will learn Mumbaiya or Marathi, and if it has to be in the south or anywhere else in the country or most parts of the world, you have no choice but to learn English.

And another point: Those of us who have made an attempt to speak or converse in Hindi are mocked for our accent (in English as well). How does an addition of ‘yaar’ or ‘chalo’ to an already grammatically incorrect English sentence make their accent better?

Accents are the universal truth. Your mother tongue or first language is bound to affect the way you speak any other language. Be it Tamil, Malayalam, German or Russian.
The important thing is communication -- to be understood. The rest doesn't matter.

Another Booker

2008-10-15T09:24:00.005+03:00

Another Booker, Another Indian. Congrats Adiga...

I wonder what most of us do with our lives.

Apparently Aravind Adiga wanted to be a novelist from the time he was little. So did I, and a million others.

He is 10 months younger than me, a Chennai-vasi, a journalist... only difference he went to Oxford and wrote for TIME. Small difference, really!

I haven't read White Tiger yet. But it does sound interesting.

Adiga's win is not luck. It's perseverence.

Of the other winners, I really like Rushdie and Naipaul. Roy is interesting too, though her novel had way too many factual errors.

Kiran Desai? That's a lot of luck and a lot of influence. Her book sucked big time! Inheritance of an Influential Mum, more like!

No 200

2008-10-15T09:24:00.001+03:00

This is my 200th Post.
EEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Tamil pride, where art thou?

2008-10-14T10:54:00.002+03:00

Why don’t we, the Tamils, ever take pride in our heritage the way other communities do?
Tagore and Rabindra sangeet is so much a part of the Bengali culture. No Bong home is complete without records of his music and volumes of his work. For good measure, they throw in the (unreadable) Apu Trilogy by Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay, and they rave about the (equally unwatchable) movie version by Satyajit Ray. Of course, my opinion is neither based on cultural jingoism or studied appreciation of the arts.
It’s just a personal comment, that probably goes against worldwide view of the works!

Bangra is a folk dance from Punjab, the dandia/gharba of Gujarat… yet, it has received branding and promotion on a monumental scale. How come, no street or rural art from Tamil Nadu has gained this kind of push?

Why aren’t ALL our children exposed to Bharatiyar’s songs – how many have even heard of him now? Why isn’t the incredibly intelligent Kurals on the bookshelves of every Tamil household? Why isn’t Kalki’s magnum opus Ponniyin Selvan (far, far more intriguing a narration than Apu3) touted by us?

Why do people think our movies are all about overweight heroines, heavily made-up heroes and garish dance numbers? What about KB (of the past), Sridhar, Bharati Raja (of the past), and the dozens of other fantastic film makers and actors? Why do they think our music is merely of the O Podu and Malle Malle genre? The Maestro and ARR are products of Tamil culture too...

Why don’t we celebrate Pongal with the same aplomb as the Keralites do Onam?

And seriously, have you noticed? The Tamils when they meet will try to impress each other with their English skills!!!!! They think it’s infra dig to converse in Tamil.

We stake claim to Idli and Dosais – but both the Malyalees and Udipi folks refute that. And we give in without a whimper!

Fortunately, there is still the Kanjeevarams and Rajnikant that we can cling to.

marrying well is an accomplishment?

2008-10-13T11:46:00.005+03:00

Quite a few of my school and college friends are accomplished women -- there are physicians, musicians, models, actors, dancers, financial controllers, some even climbing the corporate ladder in various organisations in India and abroad.
Yet, references to the batch are not in terms of these achievers. Often the reference is about someone who married well or married a celebrity!
I wonder -- is that what defines us most? Our marital status?

Words and terms I hate

2008-10-12T13:30:00.002+03:00

Illegitimate child – how is that better than bastard?
Houseboy – you know why
Homemaker – big deal, still means housewife. Brinjals, eggplants, aubergines… what’s the difference.
South Indian – whoa, why the hell? Asian, Indian, South American, South Indian?
Inner beauty – My FOOOOOOOOOT!
Pleasantly Plump – Nonsense. Fat and can carry it off.
Size Zero – Really? Zero. What next, Size Minus 2?
Aesthetically or intellectually challenged – Again how is that better than ugly or stupid?
Chick – and the opposite is?

And some terms I used to hate, but am now ok with...
Madrasi – Proud to be one
Big or Plus Size – Enjoy being one

Maybe continued...

A Wednesday, any day

2008-10-10T00:23:00.002+03:00

A Wednesday is a must watch. For Naseerudin Shah, for Anupam Kher, for Jimmy Shergill... for just how refreshing, crisp and well-made the film is.
Naseer is always brilliant. I do like Shergill, think he is highly underestimated. And it was great to see Anupam Kher doing what he does best. Perform, act, be natural.
Watch it...

Mummy Memories

2008-10-08T10:34:00.002+03:00

This morning, driving to office from O’s school, I saw this really old, bent, wrinkled, raisin of a man walking down the street. I was tempted to get off the car and click his picture.
This is a rare sight in Qatar. Old people. You will find some odd old women in wheelchairs at the malls or clinics. And fewer old men. This is a country of youth. The majority is 30 or below.
I not only wanted to photograph the old man on the road, I wanted to feel his wrinkled, aged skin.
Just the sight of him triggered a rather long reminiscing…
My maternal grandmother – ‘Mummy’ to everyone who knew or knew of her – used to have skin like crepe silk. All wrinkled and soft. Especially on her arms. Otherwise, she was youthfulness personified. She hated being guided down the stairs or across the street. Her saree was always neatly pleated. At home she wore fading white cotton blouses, and for an outing a bright white hakoba blouse.
The only signs of age on her were her skin, hair and dentures. Her wispy hair was always oiled and neatly combed, her dentures were a mystery (we never once saw her without it) and her skin was a fascination. Every time we touched it, she would bemoan the passing of the blemish-free complexion of her youth. She moaned little else.
She was such a delightful and crazy mix: A wicked sense of humour, total disregard for customs and traditions, boasting of her skills on the ‘fiddle’, recipes for a good cocktail, stories of parties at Spencer’s (were her husband was the manager), riding pillion on her husband’s Red Indian motorcycle.
While some of us only heard of all this from her, my elder sisters and cousins saw much of this in action. She would entertain her grandchildren, and their cousins, at every opportunity – long and short vacations, weekends… They knew her as the mistress of her house, running an open house for all those who wanted some fun or succour. There were many hungry for what she had to offer – six children, 16 grandchildren, and dozens of great and great-great-grandchildren, and their friends and families!
By the time I was aware of her, she was widowed and living with her sons, no longer the mistress of her house, but definitely the magnet that drew everyone to the homes of my uncles.
Her children are a proof that the fruit does fall far from the tree, now and then.
Not one of them has a fascination for wheels or a penchant for a good cocktail or party.
All her children and their spouses are teetotallers and conservative, and except for my parents, they are all extremely religious and traditional – something she mocked and poked fun at them for. A prayer was fine… but a movie outing or shopping was just as important to her. My eldest sister was her movie partner!
At a time when grandmothers were boasting about their meek, oiled and braided, fully-clothed granddaughters, Mummy took great pride in those of us who were different. She found the goody-goody grandchildren dead boring, and never failed to make her opinion public.
One of her favourites was my third sister M, who would accompany Mummy to KMC for her insulin shots. And even though they were only going to a grimy government hospital, travelling by PTC, she insisted that M wore her smart short skirts or jeans and tees, and ensured that her real short bob was well-combed.
People outside the family are often surprised at the closeness not only amongst first cousins, but also those far removed by blood. Full credit must go to her – as she threw her doors open to everyone, regardless of whose children or how closely related they were. And most of the bonding happened there, under her patronage.
Now, over 5 years after her passing, no wedding, party or get together is ever complete without a ‘Mummy anecdote’ or two.
At her funeral, more than mourning her death, we celebrated her life. Those who knew her didn’t think it odd that her siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, kids, kids-in-law, grandchildren and their spouses, were laughing and joking. We were laughing at her jokes, her smart comments, her attitude, her sarcasm… We all knew we would miss her. But she was way too much fun for us to not pay tribute to that.
More than loving her, we loved the environment she created.

It just took those wrinkles on the old man to get me spending the whole morning thinking about Mummy.

we fight, but we're fine!

2008-10-08T10:33:00.002+03:00

After my previous post a friend messaged me asking if it was alright to be so honest about R and my relationship with him. When I asked him, he joked: “You have my permission to be so.”
A couple of others asked me if he had read it, and what was his reaction.
I didn’t realise that there was an issue to begin with – as I saw it, I was paying him a huge compliment. I’d rather share my life with my best friend, than someone who sucks at being a friend, but makes all the right romantic moves as a boyfriend/husband.
Last year when we went to India for our annual vacation, I was advised by at least 4 different people on how I should work on the marriage for the sake of the child. I was taken aback – now, where did that come from.
Apparently, lil Ms O gave graphic and spiced up accounts of every argument and fight her parents had!
We are two highly opinionated and very independent beings – so we disagree. Viciously. But big deal, how many marriages are perfect and trouble free?
Yes, yes – I’ve heard of these weirdos too – who do everything in sync, never argue, always put family harmony over self. They are either cheating on each other; or are compensating for a bad sex life; or had friend-less childhoods; or are just plain bloody boring.
It can’t just be a ‘Great Marriage’!
So to all those who are worried – don’t be. We fight like street dogs… but we survive the wounds and are stronger for it.

The good kinds that make my world...

2008-10-05T01:26:00.004+03:00

... as opposed to the weird kinds I mentioned in an earlier post.

People tend to think I have a bustling social life. And that my weekends are a series of parties. That I have more friends than most. And I always wonder, what the hell gives them this impression?

I am 34. I’ve been to 2 schools, 1 college, and 4 vocational courses. I’ve worked in 5 different companies. I’ve been a member in 3 different gyms/clubs.
I know people who would have used every opportunity to make friends, and build a hectic social life.

My friend Yauleen collects friends likes Imelda did shoes, and nurtures them like they were her sole sustenance in life.

But through my years of school, college and workplaces, I’ve been friendly enough with people, socializing with them, getting drunk and having fun. I keep in touch with most of them even today. However, are they my ‘friends’ as in my bum-chums, as in my shoulders to cry on, as in laugh till you pee, as in fart without a thought, as in confess without fear of being judged, as in till death do us apart?

The simple answer is: Nopes.

There are friends who would do good in one situation, but not in another.

There are very, very few who are my all-weather friends. And I place so much value on these friends and am so used to the ease of being friends with them, that I find it difficult to make news ones easily.

I’ve been thinking real hard on who my can’t-do-without friends are. If I were asked to choose as many or as few of them as I want, and keep them for life, at the cost of the rest, who would they be?

I came up with 5 names. I am tempted to say JUST 5. But I know that would sound greedy.
And of the 5, except for the first, I just can’t choose one over the other.

1. Roshan. My husband. I know it sounds all soppy and clichéd. But the fact is R is a better friend than husband or boyfriend. Over 12 years of knowing each other, and nearly 10 of being married, I still wonder what inspired me to marry a guy who was – to put it simply – a lousy boyfriend. We were not good friends who ended up together. It all happened simultaneously. I know one of the reasons I married him, and the reason I continue to be married (despite some very trying times) is because he is my best friend. It would break my heart to lose such a great pal. He knows just about everything about me. From my email passwords to which parent I prefer; from my pet peeves to my moments of hypocrisy. And he never judges, and never holds me ransom to the grave and embarrassing confessions I’ve made to him. Even when I am depressed or angry and feel I am done with this marriage, I know I am not done with his friendship.

2. Teesu. She is the only one in the list who is most like me. If I ever nag and harass and dump on anyone (barring R), it’s her. I met her in 1992-93, at college. We liked each other right away, but became friends over a period of time. We both shared a passion for letters. And we even now write a letter or card to each other, though we chat almost daily. Over the last few years, she has fished me out of terrible bouts of depression and loneliness. She is an awesome listener, and can be quite honest. She is a proper mother hen, and can make you float with the way she cares. But frankly, as great as all these qualities are, the reason I really will hold on to her for life is because she is MAD. Everyone needs a mad friend in life. She is mine.

3. Sangi. We’ve been together since high school. And we are SO different from each other. She loves to dress up, is artistic, but is in a boring profession (to me), very hardworking, can get her way with most people, loves to window-shop, is religious and disciplined when it suits her. That just about sums up what I am not (I have the interesting profession though). She is also the person whose habits and attitudes I most disagree with. S and I ended up doing things in tandem – we fell in love, got married, moved out of the country all within weeks of each other. She is someone I am so comfortable with, I can drop in unannounced at her place. Something I am uncomfortable doing even with family. We were there for each other, in a phase of our life when were metamorphosing from insecure adolescents to slightly more confident youngsters taking baby steps in our careers, to confident women who were ready to take the plunge and set up our families. If you can survive all that together, that friendship is for keeps.

4. Renoo. I laugh the most with her. Sometimes at her. The reason she and this friendship is so special is that she is worse than me at making ‘friends’. So let’s say I feel chosen! We were in college together, and have known each other for 17 years. She was the brain of our group, always willing to help us with our work. She was the only one amongst us who behaved and looked a lady. It’s very difficult to have a serious conversation with her. If you have a problem you want to dwell on, she is the last person you ought to ring up. But if you want to forget or trivialise the problem and have a hearty laugh, put her number on the speed dial.

5. Mythili. She is the only friend from Doha. I met her in my 4th year here. M is very different from all my other friends. And why I chose her for this list is not because of what she is to me, but for what she is. I haven’t come across a simpler, more accomplished and more just person. She forgives without an effort, is sensitive to other’s needs and goes out of her way to help people. Yet she never looks a martyr. I made friends with her on the very grounds that I thought I never would – your child’s playmates parents. We lived in the same building, our kids went to the same crèche… but I do believe that I didn’t strike up with her for convenience. She is just so warm and positive, you feel like being around her. Even when she is upset about something, her response is: Why is this so? How can I change it? She is the one friend on this list I kind of look up to and learn from. I am sure she has no idea I would put her on a list such as this, as I bully her all the time, despite the fact, she is 4 years older to me.

PS: I do have a gang of friends, my ya-ya sisterhood. And I have 2 dear friends I’ve made in Doha, Yauleen and Seetha (now in Abu Dhabi), and I do hope I would never have to make a choice to exclude them for the sake of the 5 mentioned.

PPS: Re-reading this, I guess, I do have more friends than most. At least Friends who matter. Mazel Tov!

Thank you, Life!

2008-10-04T14:18:00.003+03:00

In continuations of this:

I am grateful for so many things in my life.

Every day I realise that I am amongst the luckier people in the world. That the challenges I face are easily overcome; the problems I have are negligible; I am protected by caring and wonderful people, who even when I least deserve to be loved, never hesitate to show that they care; I have a happy child, and when I wanted another it happened easily enough, gestational diabetes notwithstanding.

But the last couple of days I've been singularly grateful for this: Babu mentioned in the post linked above is safe and fine.

He made a desperate attempt to escape this place... a place to which he escaped in the first place, in a bid to get a better life than what he had back in Jaffna.

After months of planning, scrounging, and a bit of hiding the truth, he travelled to Europe. And then there was no news... we were worried and scared. But after 8 months, we receive a call from him 2 days ago. He is safe. More importantly, he is happy. It was a struggle, but he is finally on a valid visa, awaiting a permanent residency, supported by the French government's social security... he hopes to provide a decent escape for his family, from the war-torn areas of Sri Lanka.

I am grateful, he thought us important enough to call us long distance and keep us informed.

I am grateful that for the 6 years he was with us, he made such a huge difference to us.

I am grateful that there are governments and countries that still believe in protecting human rights.

EMBAAAAAARRRRRRRRRAAAAAASSSSSSSIINNGG

2008-10-03T09:58:00.004+03:00

Yesterday, a bunch of us went for a bbq evening at a beach club.

Because R & I are the only 2 journos in the group, people tend to turn to us for expert opinion and inside news on various issues -- from the US financial crisis to Singur to Doha losing the 2016 bid.

We spoke about politics and business, and between us we were able to neatly cover the issues. R provided all the details and facts, while I gave my pompous opinions to make up for what I lacked in knowledge.

And we yacked and gossiped about celebrities.

That's when it got so bloody embarrassing. I knew so much about their personal lives. Who is/was with whom, Rahul Gandhi's ex-girlfriend, Karan Johar's preferences, Kamal's obsessions, Nagma's conversion, OMG, I even knew intimate details about Rakhi Sawant.

I, seriously, seriously need to stop reading online gossip, and ponder more over the state of Singur, Nuclear deal and the Ambani feud.

R.I.P.

2008-10-02T08:56:00.008+03:00

Courage. Kindness. Spirit. Ethics. Naive. Shrewd. Sparrow. Hawk. Peace. Love. Equality. Pride. Leader. Faulted. Faulty. Right. Wrong. Integrity. Hope. Spirituality. Passion. Education. Speech. Freedom. Inspiration. Failure. Success. Truth. Independence. Patriotic. Human. Father. Husband. Son. Friend. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. Mahatma.

There are words enough to describe him. And there are words that his worst critics wouldn't dare attribute to him -- cowardice, selfish, prejudiced, treacherous.

The man who, with his colleagues, shaped the nation's destiny, is probably least appreciated in the country that calls him its Father.

Across the world, civil rights and freedom movements have been inspired, taught and achieved by what this one man believed in and propagated.

I am way too young and far removed from the defining moments of history to objectively assess the rights and wrongs of his actions.

But I am also way too young to criticise and be disrespectful of this man, just because it's fashionable to do so. From all that I've read of him, both the criticism and the appreciation, I can only respect the Mahatma. For his convictions, for his unwavering belief in truth, his simple goodness. I am sure he had his faults. He is human.

People of my father's generation, who grew up around the 1940s, are divided in their opinion of him. Some revere, some blame him for every ill the nation faces now. But few among them will discredit his achievements. Unlike the ridiculous forwards that do the rounds online, sent by totally ignorant upstarts.

For me, nearly 60 years after his passing, he remains a national pride. The mention of whose name, while speaking to people of different nationalities, makes me straighten my back, and feel good about my country.

PS: The month following his assassination, my grandmother drew a portrait of Gandhi with water colours. My dad for all his disagreements, continues to give that portrait pride of place at our home, and I know it's not only because his mother made it.

pity their ignorance

2008-10-01T21:20:00.005+03:00

My colleagues (she & she) have already blogged about this, so I am not going to repeat the sentiments that I wholeheartedly agree with.

To give a background of sorts -- we work in a multi-cultural publishing house. Our colleagues -- full-time, part-time, freelance and extended company -- hail from a whole load of different countries: Egypt, Palestine, Lebanon, Qatar, Sri Lanka, Nepal, India, Pakistan, Poland, Britain, USA, Bahrain...
And this is what we have noticed of the Arabs. They can be funny and kind and friendly and helpful (rarely all of it at the same time!) and occasionally professional. But they are not often aware of the world beyond their comfort zone, nor are they open minded.

We have colleagues who have worked with us for nearly five years, and know little or nothing about the other cultures they are exposed to. We have Christians and Buddhists and Hindus and non-Arab Muslims working together.
But to them we are all collectively known as 'non Arabs' who eat unappetising food (real rich coming from someone who lives on macaroni and foul beans) and speak a funny tongue. And culture? Whatever could that be?

They never once wish us for Diwali or Christmas or Onam. Not even when we thrust some goodies on them for the occasion.
Every time we have an official lunch or an office get together, the 'non-Arabs’ indulge their intolerance by opting for an Arab cuisine restaurant. Because if there is one thing ‘they’ can really do better than the rest of us put together, it is sulk and crib.

However, for the sake of peace and harmony, and also because the rest of us don't mind different experiences, we go with what pleases them. We organise Iftars and celebrate Eids.
The worst of it is that they take our accommodations for granted.

Yet, what I feel towards them is not anger.
It is pity, and a gleeful sense of superiority.
A race that has contributed so much to astronomy and mathematics, and who were known for their adventurous spirit and explorations, is now reduced to a bunch of ignorant, narrow minded and insular people.
When we talk about their authors, their food and their landmarks, why do they never show curiosity about the different cultures they interact with daily?
They can't even accept that non-Arab Muslims may have a different way of practising their religion. It's their way or haram**case point below**.

In fact few of them show interest in other Arab nations, even. So where is the question of wanting to know more about Poland and Nepal?

They know Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan. But please!!!!!!!!!!!!

As I said... every bit of indifference they display is for me a point scored on behalf of the society, religion and culture that moulded me and people like me.

** Case 1: We were discussing a contact we knew at work. The guy is a Hindu, married to a Muslim. And immediately, barked a colleague... oh, she is no Muslim. When we tried explaining that in India there was provision for people of different faiths to marry without conversion, he turned a deaf ear to our explanation and maintained that if the husband was a Hindu, then she can't be a Muslim.
** Case 2: I described a friend as a devout Muslim -- meaning she prays, and believes and does charity and observes Ramadan. The response: She can't be, because she doesn't cover her hair, and wears blouses that expose her hands.

it takes all kinds to make this world

2008-10-01T01:23:00.004+03:00

and it takes a lot of weirdos to make the expat world.the expat world is a surreal one. everything is transitory... more so than in the real world. and the state of temporariness can unnerve you a great deal.
it’s just not about thinking a million times about buying ‘good’ furniture (and then settling for made in malaysia rubber wood rip offs);
it’s not about going back home every year, year after year, because the company pays annual passage (this is changing, and quite a few opt to travel and see the world);
it's not about the job insecurity -- do we really buy this SUV? what if i lose my job and am stuck with the monster?;
it's not about buying as much property in as many different cities/towns in india, to keep up with the joneses;
it's not about your passbook being your favourite read;
it's not even about choosing to share your apartment here, so that you build a home enviably big enough, to spend you retired and tired life.

the temporaryness is worst when you are trying to build your social circle, when you are trying to make friends.

people are so wary -- what's the point really? you take all that effort and build relationships, and come end of contract, voila! the person moves on.

this is something i can't get used to.
that a lot of friendships here are for convenience, and like much of life otherwise, disposable. use and throw.

in the decade (nearly) i've been here, it never ceases to surprise me, how selfish and ruthless people can be in getting the best out of every encounter.

when you are still naive and new to the expatworld, it's easy to be taken in, and respond rather foolishly to friendly overtures. and then you get taken down hard, when you realise that it's about how useful you are to the person. people are so caught up in the temporariness that surrounds them, they think it's fine to apply the same in relationships.

it may well sound like i'm whining. and maybe i am.

but when you are used to a cushioning of good/great friends, and land in a place that's as dry as a desert (pun unintended) in this context, then you've earned the liberty to crib.

the other thing about this world is the extent of disgruntlement.

everybody seems to be disgruntled -- not merely by their lot in life, but by those who are or seem to be doing better than them.
this again is rather incomprehensible -- how do you ever get peace of mind, if your happiness is dependent on other people's woes?

the expatworld not only turns regular folks into weirdos, it also seems to attract a whole bunch of congenital weirdos.
i find myself displaying certain weirdo symptoms, like being suspicious of a lot of people. fortunately, what i talk about below is not one of the weirdness i have adopted.

there is this one trait i've come across so often here in people, i almost believe it's a gulf syndrome.

people carry tales. so if x (whom you barely know) has unpleasant things to say about you to your 'friend' y, then y will not only give ear and participate, but will report the useless bit of information back to you.
now, how bored or jobless should you be to do something SO pointless?
i am not exaggerating... but this happens so often, and to so many people around me, i am quite convinced the affliction is caused by something in the water.

i've made a couple of great friends here (more about them another day), and it would be a grave injustice to them if i don't mention that there are exceptions to this weirdness.

our past defines us

2008-09-30T19:02:00.004+03:00

but should it dominate your future?
we all have a bit of baggage from our past that we carry forward. experiences that define our choices and our actions.
but of late i've been meeting people who have so much excess baggage from their past, they do not give an opportunity for present experiences to influence them.
they are so badly hung up about what had been, that their view is so coloured.
it's scary. how bad could their childhood or adolescence been. or is it just fashionable to have a therapy-worthy past?

i thought about it &

2008-09-29T09:33:00.003+03:00

the answer is still the same.
My friend, who refuses to comment on the blog, but calls in from Dubai with her wisdom, disapproved of this post of mine. She feels I am picking an issue where none exists.
If servant maid (not comfortable with that either) is fine, houseboy is too... and if I can use the term cleaner, people can use the term houseboy.
I've thought about it.
Names is the way to go. Their christened names. But as a generic usage houseboy just doesn't cut it.
So RJ I really thought hard about what you said. And I disagree. I am not being over-the-top and selectively politically correct.
And save your money and comment, girl!

What do they do?

2008-09-28T12:54:00.004+03:00

those who don't read at all. or don't read anything other than the newspaper?

what do they do those last minutes before they nod off?
what do they do on long bus or train journeys?
what do they do while waiting at the airport lounge or on the flight?
what do they do to unwind, imagine, lose themselves in a different world, or forget all their worries?
what do they do on those difficult mornings on the pot?
what do they do while at the doctor's waiting room?

seriously, what do people who do not read, do?

almost everyone in my family -- parents, siblings, in-laws, husband, daughter, and most of my friends read. all the time.

but i do have a niece and a couple of friends who don't. and i've noticed that all of them use the word 'bored' more often than the rest.

Random Whys...

2008-09-26T11:55:00.004+03:00

The tech-support guy, on my ISP trouble shooting helpline, flirts with me... And I flirt back, giggling! Mentioning a husband (had to, the service is in his name), but keeping mum about the 7-year-old and the little peach in my womb. WHY?

I feel uncontrollably thirsty, the minute I step out of home, when I know I can't have anything to drink or eat outside, during Ramadan. WHY?

When things are going smooth, and there is little to irritate or annoy me, I think long and hard for things to quarrel about with R. WHY?

Unintentionally and embarrassingly, I tend to imitate accents of those I am speaking to. Especially true when I am speaking to Tamils, Malayalees and Arabs. Fortunately, not tempted to do so with the Punjus. WHY and WHY?

Pick-up and truck drivers bring out the offensive driver in me. WHY?

I judge people by the footwear they wear. It tells you everything you need to know about the person. WHY?

I hate that R works out and is so health conscious. WHY?

I find it difficult to trust Indian men who have light eyes. WHY?

I can't trust men who are overly chivalrous. WHY?

There are people I know who can hardly manage a good word about anyone. WHY?

There are folks I know who would put the bathroom mat to shame. They take so much nonsense. WHY?

Some think tears work well as a negotiation tool at work. WHY?

But I feel it's fine to use tears to get your way at a personal level. WHY?

All Managers seem to thrive on double talk and scheming. WHY?

I am still jealous when my mum spends more time with one of my sisters than with me. WHY?

I am inexplicably jealous of famous writers, who don't know me from the wino on their street. WHY?

I hate the way I am when I haven't had a wash, and love the clean, nice feeling. Still, I find it difficult to get my fat a** off the bed/chair to do the needful. WHY?

I love to see plants in the house. I love the gardens my mum/sis/MIL have. Still, I managed to kill the cactus and money plant at home. WHY?

I LOVE food. HATE to cook. WHY?

I have immense patience and tact at work (though colleagues may disagree). But am totally lacking in these aspects, at home, with family. WHY?

I feel quite great about myself and the way I look while in Doha or Bangalore. Most of the time. But the minute I step into Chennai, I feel sloppy and unattractive. WHY?

The only time I think I am overweight is when I go shopping at designer stores. Even the scales don't bother me. WHY?

I think it's better to be fat than to be totally skinny. And I don't think it's a matter of sour grapes. WHY?

It takes me longer to warm up to a thin person, than to a not-so-thin person. WHY?

Despite the last few WHYs, I am not obsessed with weight. Not a why, but REALLY.

... maybe continued.

what mould do you fit?

2008-09-20T18:27:00.005+03:00

it starts at school... this urge to fit everyone into moulds. not just physiological -- tall, short, beautiful, cute, could-do-with-nose-job!

and it's not just about trying to fit a personality mould either -- cranky, cheerful, angry, selfish, selfless, friendly (we are all one or the other at some point in the day).

then it's the environmental classifications, as well.

O comes back from school telling me how her teacher couldn't understand why i did not share the surname she and her father did.
apparently, she asked her more than once if she was sure my surname was not C.
O handled it well, as we have had this conversation before. because i have explained to her that i prefer keeping my name alone, and when she is old enough, she can call herself as she pleases.

i don't carry any surname at all. My given names are a mouthful by itself, so i dropped my dad's initial/name. in the south, surnames are not really common. you just take your father's first name. or the initial. so i was C. V S for a long time. and when i had to give a name for my bylines when i joined Indian Express, i decided V S would do just great. and marriage to a C-surnamed person, didn't change the resolve.

so already the teacher (whom i totally adore otherwise) is trying to fit my whole family into a mould -- the Cs.

i hate being introduced as Mrs R C -- especially by people who know my name. one of my sisters, who hasn't taken her husband's surname, sent out a communication to all, that her name will not change post-marriage. and when some very stubborn people still send letters or cards to her, addressed Mrs and Mr D or Mrs D, she returns it with a polite note that no Mrs D resides there, but a certain Ms M C does!

you may consider it extreme -- but what do you do when people try to force you into a mould, even when you expressly convey your dislike or disregard for it?

now, i log in to the school website to check O's profile, I see 'Christian' marked against religion. this when we didn't just leave the column blank in the school form, we actually ran a line through it. even the birth certificate we submitted doesn't contain details of religion. but apparently some know-it-all decided that with a surname like C, it has to be a certain religion.

i know i have a huge scene in the making at school -- and R would probably disuade me from doing so, as i have earned quite a reputation there already! -- but i don't want O trying /struggling to fit into all the categorisations thrust upon her. Malayalee/Tamil? Christian/Hindu? Daughter of Journalists=journalist-in-the-making? (oh, goodness forbid, hope not)

there are some things she can't escape, for now.
daughter of V&R, an indian; legacy of uneven teeth and quick temper from mum...
i don't want her burdened with more.

PS: I sent R out on this job, and he explained to the school official that we were a multi-religious family, and did not want any one to be highlighted. the detail was deleted without a protest. -- Sept 21

the best love of all

2008-09-18T08:12:00.004+03:00

is the love of self.
And that comes only with self respect.

On Monday I started my pre-natal yoga classes. during my first pregnancy, I started pre-nat yoga only in my 6th month.

There were 3 other preg women in the class. One in her 7th month, another at the end of the 4th (like me) and the teacher, who is in her 37th week, ready to pop it any minute.
They all looked perfect -- perfect figure, perfect rounded belly, and perfect postures.
They were in and out of aasanas with such ease.
In my more uncharitable moods i would probably call them self-obsessed, for preening over their perfect bods.
I realise now that it's self respect. Respecting their body, and their personality. and that's a wonderful thing to do for yourself.

There was also a non-preg teacher-in-waiting (Monica) , to step in for Emma when she delivers.

I was, unsurprisingly, the least fit in the class.
But only in comparison.

I surprised myself by how flexible I can be, despite my fast growing tummy. the problem is with maintaining the distance between my shoulder and my ear -- as Monica pointed out, I’ve been trying to compensate my big bust by rounding my shoulder.
Obviously this not only creates bad posture, but makes you look like you have a combination of big busts and bad bras. Which is not true. I take more effort and spend more money on my bras than on any other piece of clothing.
So i am now consciously trying to maintain the distance between my ear and shoulder, and to look less like Gladstone Small.

The last two days I've been looking around and checking out people's postures. It has nothing to do with their body shape, weight or height. It's something more; sometimes you can't quite pinpoint.

Like how short someone is till you stand next to them or measure them, because they carry themselves tall. similarly, the big women who walk light. And then there are the tall ones who stoop and the skinny ones who bend themselves in the middle...

I guess Yoga is the best way to set that posture right.
This is where I go...

If he is a HOUSE BOY...

2008-09-14T08:29:00.004+03:00

... who are you? Mistress of Anal Snobbery?
I hate this term -- house boy.
House boy = Grown men, who, due to a sad twist of fate, end up in poorly paid jobs in the Gulf and try earning some extra bucks in their free time by cleaning homes and doing random chores, for measly amounts.

Can't we at least afford them some dignity and call them Cleaners or Helpers? But, House boys? Who the hell do we think we are? Isn't colonialism a thing of the past?

I know people living in palatial houses, with an income of over $10k a month, who grudge the $100 they pay these guys for cleaning their homes.
If only I had a riyal for every "Just because we live in a big house he is asking for a hike!"
Hike of what? $20?

Before I digress, this is not a rant about people's generosity or the lack of it.
It's about their insensitivity. Let's assume that they don't know the history of the term (see PS below). Let's assume their ignorance. Still. Doesn't it irk them even a teeny-weeny bit when they refer to their 40+ cleaner, from the sub-continent, as a houseboy?

The ones who throw the term around with so much pride are usually women -- yes, it's us who can display this degree of insensitivity, when it comes to 'lesser' beings. the men are far more equable in these matters. they usually refer to most people by name -- not the driver, the servant, the houseboy... but as babu, rangan or joe.

I've heard women talk about their houseboys, exchanging juicy snippets on their greed for more money, while sipping coffee from their Villeroy & Boch cups; and the men in discussion would be on the other side of the wall, well within hearing distance.
Not that it's forgivable to refer to them this way when they are not around! It's just the degrees of insensitivity.

To be fair, it's not only those living in fancy villas and high-rises who use this term with great abandon. It's everybody. From dingy shared rooms to your regular-joe apartment blocks, the echoes of 'house boy' vibrate...

I guess, the term somehow allows people to place themselves on a different and higher level. "I am the Mistress of my Abode (humble or otherwise) and I have a houseboy!"
Probably not intentional -- just something in our subconscious...

When I reply to people's queries of 'houseboy' with 'my cleaner' or 'the person who comes to help me'... most don't even register the point.

Have I ever openly told friends (at least) not to use the term? I plead guilty. I have never. Most of my friends treat their cleaners with respect, despite calling them houseboys, and I am terribly scared of offending some close friends, so I keep my mouth shut.

But no more. I am sending this post to them...

PS: House boy

I recommend Mister Pip

2008-09-14T07:55:00.009+03:00

I resisted picking up this book at the library (more on this later) for weeks. Would it be a blasphemous interpretation or take on my all time favourite Great Expectations? Would it be someone's desperate attempt at writing fame through the brilliance of Dickens' characters?

But I couldn't resist a book that had Pip in its title. I succumbed. I surrender.

This book by Lloyd Jones is fantastic. I always give award winning books a try (in the sad hope that some day, some one would pick up mine)... but not many of these manage to bowl me over.

Lloyd Jones did. I could easily have been Mathilda, and at times the slower Daniel. I could have even been Mr Watts, making Great Expectations his very own story.

I remember getting lost in Havisham's gardens, imagining myself as Estella and Pip in turns... and in fact when I re-read the book in my late-teens, sans boyfriend or even a hope of one, I even thought of myself as Mrs Havisham.

Mathilda's anger at Pip for spurning Joe, could well have been mine. But which one of us is not guilty of being mean to the people who care about us?

Having finished Mr Pip, I think it's time to revisit my old love... I don't know why I haven't touched GE in the last 10 years... I re-read David Copperfield at least twice in this period, and I love the former more.

But before you go away thinking Mister Pip is about Great Expectations alone, let me set the record straight. It's about the great expectations and hopes of its character... some realised, some brutally terminated.

Thanks Mr Jones.

Rest in Peace

2008-09-10T08:47:00.002+03:00

I loved this guy. My whole family did.

His is one of the few live performances we watched regularly -- because you did not have to be a classical music aficionado to sit through his recitals (that a friend who organised his programmes could get us free tickets was only an added advantage).

He was so unbelievable with his violin, you could almost hear the lyrics.

And his facial expressions were treat too.

Rest in Peace Mr Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan.

An armload of worries

2008-09-09T20:50:00.007+03:00

My O always goes to sleep on the crook of my arm. My right arm. When she was just a baby, it was my left arm, so that she could hear my heart beat (i remembered a colleague, years ago, telling me that he always put his baby to sleep by laying her across the left side of his chest, as it soothed the lil one). Of late it's the right arm, because I am attached to the left side of the bed. Once she is asleep, I transfer her to her cot, or R does when he comes home and stakes claim to his part of the bed.
The crook of my arm has been hers from the day she was born. Even on days I've had bad neck or back pain, I would cradle her for a short while.

My mother has been advising me to stop this habit for a while... but I haven't been able to. Now I know it's time to wean her off my arm. But how, because I know when Plus makes an appearance s/he will be cradled too... it's the easiest way to put the baby to sleep. By cradling it in your arm, and just letting your body warmth soothe it to sleep. Better than rocking and marching up and down the room.

This is not my only worry -- O is an independent little girl. When she was just 15 months old, R and I took off for a couple of days, leaving her with my mum. And she was fine. She travelled alone to India when she was just 5+ years.
She is reasonable about my work hours, about my schedule, that I am not the cooking-fresh-meals kind of mum (though she wants me to be)... but of late she has been a bit more clingy. She is not very happy about me leaving her at home with the baby sitter late in the evenings. She refuses to listen to reason.

That's when I realise that she is not yet a girl, she is still my little baby, who eagerly awaits another, but yet has her fears. Which she doesn't voice -- probably scared that I will change my mind. After all she has been at us for 2 years now, demanding a bro or sis.
She has made expansive promises on how she will help take care of the baby. I only hope she doesn't dip it in her bath water, holding it by the hair, the way she does her dolls.

I talk to her and try to tell her gently that things will change in a few months, and that she has a role to play too.
A friend suggested that I tell her that she would always be the most special as she came first. But I can't ever do that, given that I'm the youngest of 4, and am never allowed to forget (by my siblings) that I probably was an after thought!

It would be easiest to tell her that everything will be hunky-dory and her Amma will still have all the time in the world for her, even later. Easy, but untrue... I am hoping reasoning and understanding will hold me in good stead.

When I tell her, that it's the turn of Plus to lie in the crook of my arm, I hope she smiles and says go ahead.

But knowing how insecure I can get, I am sure I would take that as a personal rejection as well.

I'm honoured and...

2008-09-06T21:06:00.004+03:00

... speechless. an award. i don't usually get these.

But SHE was kind enough to give me one. Not only am I kicked about getting this, am also kicked it came from someone whose work I have immense respect for. So really kind words there Shyam.

The Purpose of the Award

This award is for blogs whose content and/or design are brilliant as well as creative.The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere.

I am supposed to nominate 6-7 other blogs for this award.

I don't think I can give it back to the person who gave it to me in the first place. Otherwise, she would have definitely got it... not in 'you scratch my back, i scratch yours' kind of way, but genuinely.

The others I like (and none except 1 is well known to me) are:

Ammani : Amazing story teller. Mistress of Quick Tales.

Mumbaigirl : She picks on some seriously interesting subjects. Enjoy the way she presents it. And through her blog stumbled upon the next...

Broom : Read it and you'll be hooked. Start from the beginning.

Blogeswari : Not only because she is a friend, but also because it's a real different blog. She is so passionate about ads and movies, her blogs are great fun to read. Only problem is: She updates once in a very blue moon!

I am going to end my list here... there are a few more I really like. But they have to update more often, and there are some I need more time to read and decide. So maybe, I will continue this later...

umm o and ?

2008-09-06T17:17:00.004+03:00

so i am bored witless... and i sit fooling around with templates, and realise that this Umm O business may cause trouble sometime in the future.
In a few months, I would be Umm O plus another (inshallah!)... And then I will have to work on being fair and politically correct and change my Umm suffixes... am sure the Plus in question would not be bothered for some years at least, but why keep that avenue for misunderstanding open... there are issues enough parents and children deal with, without adding a blogging nomenclature to it.

what kind of a joke is this?

2008-09-06T16:53:00.002+03:00

it's not my country... still.
what kind of a bloody joke is this?
even pakistan doesn't deserve this. are there no morals or judgement left in this world?

The Muslim. The Hindu. And The FEAR

2008-08-30T18:40:00.004+03:00

This is just the tip of the iceberg.
I am not a leftie; I am not an underdog-lover; But I do hate religious fanaticism.
Probably because I was born and brought up in Chennai, which is not communal in the way Mumbai, Delhi or even Bangalore is... And I had no problems with the Muslims I knew there... I found them no weirder than the rest of us. I married a Christian... though not the evangelical, the 'lord is my saviour' type.
And I've always had a problem with people who generalised about Muslims... including my father and my sister. I found it petty and unreasonable.
Now this is getting to a different level.
A friend of mine relocated to Mumbai from here. A techie, chilled out, totally in love with the city he calls home. Then his Hindu-wife tells me, every day there are subtle signs telling him he is different.
Only Muslim tele-marketing agents contact him; it was difficult to nail a job because of his religion... worse because he comes from the Gulf.
I know tonnes of people who would say they are getting what they deserve. Bullshit!
Discrimination can't be justified.
I live in a Muslim country, fanaticism is in my face everyday. I get totally annoyed by the unquestioning blind faith, and rejection of anything 'different'. I fear their narrow-mindedness; I fear the power their clerics have over them; In some of their eyes, I see a madness that gives me goose bumps; I hate the way they treat their womenfolk; but I still can't hate THE MUSLIM. Because I see many who don't fit into my fear parameters.
When I hear rabid comments from Hindu fundamentalists, I react with anger. When I hear it from regular folks, whom I consider reasonable, I pee in my pants.
Because whether we realise it or not, if we don't watch our thoughts, actions, words, we will cross the thin line that divides us from what we deplore.
That all that we accuse the Muslims of (almost all of which is true to only some, not all of them), we ourselves will live to bear.
That the greatness of India and even Hinduism, and the reason it has thrived so wonderfully all these thousands of years (despite its many flaws), should not be corrupted by the culture of non-acceptance and intolerance that other religions may follow. In condemning those ideals, we should not end up creating our own monstrous dictums.
I am scared. Terribly scared, that my daughter will be forced to identify with one of her parent's religion... that she will not have the liberty to imbibe all and create her own walk of life.

whoopie breast exam

2008-08-24T16:49:00.007+03:00

Watching The View today, I spent about 5 minutes examining Whoopie Goldberg's breasts.
Whoa, hold on. I don't swing that way, though I love Whoopie.

What I was trying to do was, point out the existence of her breasts to my 6-year-old O.

This is what happened: She kept staring at Whoopie and then asked me if it was a man or a woman.

I was surprised she even had a doubt. "Woman," I said.

"But she doesn't have the bump like other women. Like you."

"That's because some have it smaller than the rest. And she is wearing a loose shirt."

"Even then, there is that line on the bump (cleavage, I guess, is what she meant)... see the other women all have that line."

And yes, all the other women were showing cleavage. And I was showing mine too, in my loose house coat.

To her Whoopie as a woman didn't seem appealing, because she didn't show off her 'bump'.

I know I have a long road ahead of me, to explain to her that that's not what femininity is all about. And that it doesn't have to be on display.

I have started by asking her not to call it the 'bump', but 'breasts'.

That was an easy one...

The rest of the ride is going to be 'bumpy'!

corny but true

2008-08-17T10:43:00.003+03:00

Age seems so not-important to me.
Birthdays are important. very. but not age.
So much so, when someone asks me how old I am, it takes me a moment or two to recall the number... not because I have such poor memory, because for me age is a 'factor' only for a very few things in life. like:

1. when do you enrol your child in school. I don't believe in forcing baby geniuses into grade 1 at age 4! you need to think hard and long about the minimum age for a child to enter the school system. especially the Indian system.

2. when is it ok to start having sex. even for an adult, the first sexual encounter can turn out to be traumatic or overwhelming. so there is no way a 12 or 14-year-old is ready for it. you need to think about your age... are you quite ready to end your childhood or adolescent for crappy sex?

3. age at which to give birth to a child. you can't be 13. you can't be 50. though both are common. having a child is not about you alone... what role are you going to plan in the child's life?

Barring these 3 situations, age has little or nothing to do with who you are and what you do in life.
My dad studied law when he was 50, and on retiring from a bank, began his practice at 60. At 75 he is busier than most people I know. Age for him is at best a reason to cry off social functions, and at worst an inconvenience due to frailer bones!

Still I hear 40- and 50-year-old folks talking about how old they are! About how they're done with more than half their life.

There are people to whom I dread posing the greeting: "How are you?"
Because, what will follow is a long stream of depressing things...
"I am getting fatter, my back hurts, my boss sucks, my teenager is beyond control, did I mention I am getting fatter?, my husband doesn't understand me, I am getting old, my life is boring..."

Give me a break, unless you are living in Darfur, there must be some joy in your life? There must be something good on TV that made you laugh? A book that got you thinking of the good things in life? A friend who makes you feel good, a dress you bought that you love...

There are people who claim to have so many ailments, they could single-handedly demonstrate Gray's Anatomy!

Here is a tip: When someone says "How are you?", it's a greeting, not an invitation to complain.

My mum at 67 lives the most vibrant life. She has an ischemic heart, high BP and diabetes... but there is never a reason good enough for her to turn down a chance to socialise or travel. There is never a reason for her not to don her best cottons and a dab of max factor powder to go on a jaunt with her siblings. There is never a reason good enough for her to blame her ailments and not enjoy life. Age for her just happens to be. Masha'allah!

And then I have this dear friend. Her husband cheats on her all the time. She has a whole load of hormone-related problems, she can't practice the trade she trained in because of allergies, she has little in terms of savings... but ask her how she is doing, and she always says "Great V! Smashing. The kids and I just returned from the beach/ we are on our way to the park..."

So during those self-indulgent moments when I wish to mope around, or worry about the future, I remind myself of all that is there to see, to experience to enjoy... and that's when the 4th factor about age worries me... how much can I pack into this lifetime?