Bangaloremom

What kind of mother are you?

2011-07-22T02:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a few months since I quit my job to experience the stay-at-home bliss at my new home. A lot of women in my new complex have decided to quit their jobs to take care of their kids and I am living in a kind of suburban bubble. It has also, for the first time, given me an opportunity to talk to and mix with a lot of women from my complex and from my old circle of friends, many of whom I had lost touch with.

While the world, very broadly, generalises mothers as working and non-working, I have begun to see so many sub classes in between. Just a light-hearted look at a few kinds off the top of my head:

*The perfectionist: Hers are the kids who always go to school with sparkling white canvas shoes. Their lunches are always packed with nutritious food and their homeworks are always done. If they have to get a project finished, she starts working on it from day one and makes sure they get it right! She inspires other moms and also scares them a little bit.

*The fun mommy: She is the mommy every child wants. Always full of life and exciting things to do, she is every child's hero. She makes even work fun and interesting and is not averse to a late week night every now and then. She is also the kind who, very spontaneously, will take the kids out to the zoo or the park on weekends.

*The strict officer: Her kids, quite literally, piss out of fear in her presence. She rules the household and the kids with an iron hand and kids and husband scamper away in fear at her slightest sign of displeasure.

*The lost soul: These moms are bored out of their skulls in their avatar and are constantly wishing they were someplace else. Motherhood really does not come naturally to them and they look lost and scared most of the time, looking to someone else for guidance and deliverance.

*The scatterbrain : This is the woman who runs down the stairs in her nightie chasing after her child with her homework. Or the one who is creating a ruckus in the mall after losing a kid. Or is up half the night designing a dress for the school play the next day and then forgets to send it.

So, what kind of mommy do you think you are?

The reading habit

2011-07-17T22:04:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has known me since childhood will have one enduring image in their mind - a dishevelled little girl with hair falling over her eyes and most often seen in a white petticoat, always, always holding a book under her nose. In fact, my earliest childhood memories are not from my life but from the images of a book I read as a little girl. I was a precocious kid, an only child often left to my own devices. Not being the athletic kind, books were my only method of passing time and my parents ensured that an endless supply of books was kept up. Sometimes, I wonder if I have read more than I have lived. To quote those beautiful, beutiful words of Meg Ryan from the movie 'You've got mail', 'So much of my life reminds me of a book I once read, when, in fact, should'nt it be the other way around?'. Such beautiful words that I go into raptures just thinking about that movie. Anyway, I digress.

The point I am trying to make is, I inhale books. Quite literally. Magazines, newspapers, pop fiction, romance, chick flick, classics. Just about every genre that there is to read. And in my world, I cannot relate to people who do not read. I may still like them and be friends with them but a crucial, very enjoyable part of my relationship with a lot of people is to talk about what I have read and that part will definitely be missed.

Thankfully, the husband also reads and during our pre-kuttan days, many a happy afternoon were spent companionably reading. Once kuttan was born, hyper mother that I am, I went on an overdrive. I started collecting books for him from the time he was 3 months old. And started reading to him just as soon. And, a year later, I was reading Dr.Seuss books and colour books and shape books. And was getting increasingly frustrated when my happy baby boy showed not the LEAST bit of inclination or interest or preference to books.

Many nights would be spent with me shoving a book under his nose and him trying to wriggle away from me. As he passed the age of 4, things still hadnt improved and I lost interest. 2008 was a busy year in our household with the arrival of little princess and kuttan starting LKG. Somehow, I did not pay as much attention to him that year as I should have so I failed to notice that while other kids were slowly trying to read, my son was'nt even going beyond recognising the alphabet. All my pushing and prodding had put him off reading and he was digging his heels in mentally. I did not know any of this till I was called by his teacher last year who explained to me that kuttan was falling behind in the reading department. While other kids were able to read simple three letter words, my baby was refusing to even try. All my bullying had backfired badly. I came back sobbing and had a sleepless night were I envisioned a son who would not read books.

The next day, I went to work on him. Kuttan is a bit of a techno freak and I decided to give him his bitter pill with a sugar coating. The first site I introduced him to was www.starfall.com. The first few days were met with fierce resistance of having to apply his mind to putting the letters together. But I persisted and he slowly, painstakingly learnt to read 2 and 3 letter words at the age of 5. I also invested in some reading books. The Disney series 'Let's read and understand' was wonderful because it combined easy exercises and and games with flash cards and sight words. Slowly, I saw an increase in interest in his eyes. For the first time, he would try to read the billboards from the car. When we went to shops, he would try to read the names of the labels and it was like a new world had opened for him for the first time. Amar chithra kathas are being devoured with regularity along with Magic pots.

There was no looking back after that and my son proved to be quick and insatiable learner. Mornings during IPL season were spent with kuttan and the husband poring over the newspaper and kuttan reading off the sports page. Cricket and readinf. I was'nt complaining at all! But I truly, truly didnt realise how far he had come till last week. I had had a busy day with a lot of errands to run outside the house and returned late in the evening to a surprisingly quiet house. 'Where is kuttan', I asked amma. 'Must be playing in the room', she replied. As I tiptoed into his room, I found my 6 year old son nonchalantly sitting with my copy of R.K.Narayan's 'Swami and friends'. 'What are you doing kutta?', I asked. He looked up with a smile and said, 'This book is really cool amma...Rajam and Mani and Swami have so much fun!!!'

Welcome to my world, son. Enjoy the beautiful journey. I am so happy you discovered the beauty and endless of magic and wonder of reading.

The little princess- a few glimpses

2011-07-14T21:40:00.000-07:00

The little princess turned 2 last month. The transformation has been nothing short of amazing. At the age of 2, kuttan was still struggling to say 'amma' and 'appa'. LP on the other hand has already started speaking sentences, quite effortlessly at that. A few moments to be stored for posterity:

1. The LP is quite a mamma's girl, unlike kuttan who prefers to stick to the husband like glue, so much so, that she follows me even to the bathroom - the place I go to hide myself for a few minutes to get some respite from the madness that is my life. Really, she is that chipkoo.

2. The princess and I provide entertainment galore to the people in the new apartment complex every evening. They see a little minx, nimble footed and slender, running so quick it seems her feet dont touch the ground, her laughter floating in the air, followed by a heavily overweight woman moving in a strangle mixture between a run and a waddle screaming her name, threatening to fall into an ignominous heap any minute.

3. Did I tell you one of the main reasons I wanted a girl was so that I could dress her up? Yes, that's how shallow I am. Now, however, having got one, it turns out she has a mind of her own and prefers to be dressed in her brother's hand-me-down pants and t-shirts rather than any of the fluffy frocks and frilly dresses I have painstakingly collected for her. We have major stand-offs whenever clips, hair bands or any embellishments of hair are to be worn and the entire household is involved in keeping her distracted while I pin those contraptions on her, which of course, are pulled off summarily the minute she figures out are there.

4. The kuttan is constantly embarrassed by his sister's antics and the poor guy is dreading the day when she will join him in school next year. When she monkeys around the playground and other children laugh at her, he comes and furiously whispers to me, 'Take her away!'. When that doesnt work, he goes and tries to draw the other children's attention away from her. It always, always ends up with him furiously stomping off homeward, muttering to himself, near tears.

5. The princess is turning to be as much of a fussy eater as that brother of hers - I am destined to struggle over meal plates with both my children I guess. The only difference is that she LOOOVEES sweets and can have any number of sweets at any time of the day. On days when nothing else works, I let her.

And so, that, in brief, is little princess at 2. Affectionate, naughty, impish, spirited, joyful, our own little minx. Our sunshine girl.

5 things that motherhood taught me...

2011-07-13T05:17:00.000-07:00

Aparna tagged me aeons ago to write about 5 things motherhood taught me. Sloth that I am, it took me this long to actually sit down and type it out though I have been mentally making a post of it for weeks. Anyways, here goes. It is none of the usual things you would expect but at least its honest.

1. It made me a more patient person.

One trait that I am constantly in short supply of. Dealing with existential questions such as 'Where is God?' when you are stuck in the middle of the MOTHER of all traffic jams. NEVER being able to finish a phone-call. Having your baby daughter follow you to the bathroom...all these vignettes of motherhood need an inexhaustible supply of patience.

2. It made me a more socially aware person.

When I read about the little kid that was electrocuted by a live-wire in the playground, the playground for chrissakes, you feel the pain more when you have children of your own. Everytime you hear news of school-shootouts or any tragedy that involves young children, you heart actually squeezes in pain. Before motherhood, I was able to read it all with a degree of distance. Now, I feel it.

3. It made me realise that there is life beyond a career.

I never thought I would be a full-time stay at home mom. And yet, that is exactly the choice I made when it came right down to it. I realised that nothing, NOTHING in the world can compensate for the joy in your child's face when he walks into the house after school. Not even the joy of making CEO. Not that there was any danger of that happening with me anyway.

4. It has made less judgemental of other women's choices.

Before kids, I was quick to judge and slow to understand. When I saw a toddler screaming in a restaurant, I would give the parents quelling looks. When I heard of a woman who gave up a great career to stay home with her kids, I would make scathing remarks. After motherhood, I have realised that life is a very long, very beautiful journey with inexplicable twists and turns. Now it is MY daughter who is rolling on the floor throwing a tantrum. It is I who has given up a career to be with my kids. And when someone gives me an uncomprehending look, I just smile quietly.

5. It has made me realise my parents worth.

Every time I grit my teeth in anger at something my kids do, I realise how much my parents went through and how nuch harder it was for them. And yet, I always grew up believing I was the center of their existence, the only reason for their happiness. If I can give my children half the sense of security that my parents gave me, I think my job is well done.

And then there are myriad other ones such as eyeing the dresses in the mall with one eye and your extremely flighty two year old with the other, eating in a fancy restaurant in 5 minutes flat and getting OUT of there. But that's fodder for another post.

I was tagged so long ago, its almost embarrassing. But JLT and Abha. Would love to hear what you have to say.

The Gentleman and The Banshee

2011-03-16T22:21:00.000-07:00

He is suave and cultured. She is hot and fiery. He quietly charms friends and foes alike with an easy smile and practiced grace. She spits fire at anyone trying to get too close. He is a hot favorite among anyone who knows him. She...well, let's just say diplomatically that....she inspires mixed feelings.

No, I am not talking about the lead pair in some fanciful Mills&Boon novel but about my own two children. It never ceases to amaze me that two human beings, both spawned by me and both brought up in near similar conditions can be so completely different. I have seen it with other people. The husband himself, born the youngest of three, is completely different from the other two. And yet, this phenomenon among my own kids, so young at that, always fascinates me.

Kuttan was a much easier child. To take care of, to manage, to take out on vacations, to put to sleep, to love. The princess on the other hand, has taken it upon herself to make this parenting gig as difficult for me as possible. She screams at any alleged opposition and, quite literally, spits on people's faces. The other small kids in the apartment have taken to hiding from her as she unleashes her fury dispassionately on all. Disciplining by stern words, a teeeeny bit of spanking or ignoring have, so far, only seemed to aggravate the problem. The husband swears she needs to go to school pronto and have some discipline beaten into her. I, on the other hand, hesitate, loath to snuff out that glorious spirit of hers.

And yet, it seems as though nature has given me its own version on Yin and Yang- a perfect harmony in my two kids. When I am being too harsh with kuttan during study time, as his gentle eyes cloud with tears, his own Banshee comes screaming at me waving her chubby little arms and speaking furious gibberish. It saves me from my uncontrollable rage and makes kuttan smile again. When she misbehaves in the playground, beats up too many kids and is being cornered by older kids, still standing defiantly, with UTTER disregard to her size, very close to being beaten up, I see kuttan walking up to her and gently leading her by the arm off the scene. Nobody else, not even the husband or I, can calm the princess in situations such as these. And so the days pass, with me being a spectator witnessing the shaping of two adults. I hope their love for each other grows and stands strong all through their lives. Love you me babies!! You make my life so much richer!

The age of innocence

2010-12-11T04:23:00.000-08:00

Kuttan and a friend A are playing outside in the balcony of our apartment on the 2nd floor. Scooter, a car and cycle are strewn around. A is riding the cycle and kuttan goes up to him after a while and says, 'let's change'. A refuses. An argument breaks out and A sulkily says, 'I won't be your friend.' 'Dont be..whats my problem', says kuttan. 'I am going to go and bring my cycle', says A...'let's see you do it', challenges kuttan, while I silently witness the drama unfolding without wanting to get in.

'See him amma, as though he can carry his cycle all the way. Let me see him do it.', kuttan says to me furiously while A storms off and I wisely bury my head back into the laptop. 5 minutes of silence. I look out to see kuttan missing. 'Kutta', I call out, 'where are you?'. 'I am here', floats a voice from the ground floor. 'Helping A carry his cycle to the 2nd floor'!!!!??!!

The age old debate...

2010-12-06T19:31:00.000-08:00

...has been brough to focus again by this post. And I agree with all of Ro's observations - the smugness, the superiority, the feigned pity at the plight of the poor hapless kids who have the misfortune of being born to these power-crazy, money-crazy women. But, having been quite equally present on both sides of the fence, I have seen the other side of it too....the working women who give subtle pitying looks, the condescension, the raised eyebrows and the inevitable question 'Oh, but what do you do at home all day?'.

And it's not only the women. It's the society on the whole. The husbands, the other men in the family, men who think women who work in the world outside know what they are talking about and the ones at home have it easy....The truth is, the world may love pulling down the 'working moms' (I hate all tags but this one definitely takes the cake!) but secretly many, many people envy them and are threatened by them and, most importantly, respect them. For the SAHM on the other hand, to be considered as a person with half a brain is entirely another challenge in itself. I work from home full-time and am seen around the house feeding the kids, playing with them and so on. And then someone comes along and says, 'hey cute kids...so you are a SAHM?'. And I say, 'well, I work from home and I work with #%$%^'. And I visibly see the new light entering their eyes. I have seen it happen so many times, when, in fact, it should'nt matter at all, should it?

I wonder why women on both sides of the fence have it so tough. If this feels wrong and that feels wrong as well, what is right? I think there are no right answers and each one just follows his or her own compulsions, taking into consideration family, money and other factors. But I also wonder if all the judging and bitterness comes from people who are not entirely secure with the choices they have made themselves and just dont have the guts to admit it or do anything about it. The ones who are happy and confident about their place in the shade will surely understand other people's needs and compulsions and, if not supportive, will at least be peacably accepting about it.

At the end of the day, it all boils down to this. Is there a single working woman who, deep down, has not ONCE felt, 'I wish I could have an easier life!' when she has to drag herself to work leaving behind a sick child, or miss a recital or play in school or has to steel herself against those soft eyes and small hands tugging at her hand and heart saying, 'mamma, dont go!'? Is there ONE exhausted SAHM who has never wistfully looked at her friends and colleagues from an earlier life whose lives suddenly look super glamorous now and thought for one fleeting second, 'what if?'? With so many unspoken desires and pressing needs, should'nt we be sympathetic with each other and go the extra mile to understand and support? Will it happen? What do you think?

Where have I been?

2010-12-04T22:04:00.000-08:00

Well, I have been around....doing more of the same. Working a little, but mainly raising two kids, living each day as it comes, soaking up all the little moments...and some big ones too.

The husband has finally finished his MBA program after two and a half long years. For the first time after two and a half years, I have him all to myself over the weekends. The feeling is yet to sink in and I am still exploring the myriad range of possibilities with this one ;)

What started as a playful 'let's see if we can get in' kind of thing became much bigger than we could ever have imagined. Life has changed substantially from the June of 2008 when the husband first decided to get into the program. The loss of a parent, birth of a child, a job and house change. I doubt if anyone less level-headed than the husband could have handled it and made it look so easy. Still, I am glad it is over and hopefully, we can look forward to the next phase of our lives.

I dont know what he learnt at IIM. But now, weekends are spent doing management-y and strategic things such as this.....

Yes I am still alive!!

2010-12-03T16:40:00.000-08:00

I know, I know!! After the last break, I really do not deserve to be back at all...What can I say? We are all fine and everything is as good as can be. Attribute it to sheer madness of running a household with 2 kids, a hyper mother, an even more hyper grandmother and a poor sane voice of reason aka the husband struggling to be heard in all the shrillness.

I intend to be impressively regular with my blogging from now on. And intend to put on more pictures - of the kids, of the house, stuff we see, things we do and so on....Promise!!

As a little preview, here is a beautiful snap taken during lil princess's birthday last June...

Night owls, anyone?

2010-02-09T12:50:00.000-08:00

Be very careful what you ask for, you might get it. How many times have you heard this? Countless...I know I have. And yet, I never learn. When I first heard about it, working from home seemed the coolest thing in the world. Imagine being able to have your kids around all the while working in the comfort of your own home.

Imagine a world where you don't have to drop them off at daycare, crying and screaming, every morning. Imagine not having to trust your life in the hands of a maid while you drove off to work. Where you don't have to sit in your office at 5 in the evening, dying from the tension of whether your boss will let you leave on time today. Where your heart breaks at the thought of a small face looking out the jail-like windows at daycare as you get held up yet again because of some useless bug or issue. And yet, I went through all that trauma with kuttan. Left him with a maid. Left him at daycare. And in the process, I screwed up my career irrevocably too, taking breaks when things got too tough. Taking one too many breaks.

When the princess was born, I was pretty sure I did not want to make the same mistakes I made with kuttan. This was my last chance to enjoy my children's growing up days and I was NOT going to relegate it to a maid or an impersonal daycare. I was all set to quit. And this time do it a little more gracefully.

Then a well-meaning friend who I have known since high school got me into a project which allows me to work from home. Full time. I dont have to go to office. Ever. Imagine my joy. Paycheque coming into the bank every month while I stayed home with the kids and worked at the same time. It seemed like christmas, Diwali and every other festival had come together all at the same time. Aha, but there was a catch. The project required me to work nights. Till 3.30 AM to be precise.

'No problem', I breezily told the husband when he looked doubtful. 'I can manage on very little sleep. This is what I have ALWAYS wanted', I fervently told him. And sure enough, it was dreamy in the beginning. I was new and there was very little work to do. Technically, I was online but went to sleep at a decent hour on most days and got a full night of uninterrupted sleep. 'See, this is easy peasey', I gleefully told the husband.

And then the Gods laughed. And gave me work. While I would earlier login and be running all over the house in the evenings, I now had to sit and work. Or answer calls. Who would feed the princess? Who would help kuttan with his homework? Who would help amma with the dinner? The times when the husband's call timings clashed with mine were mayhem. And yet, somehow, the family managed. Pulled on. Kuttan was plonked in front of the TV. The princess was sent to amma's room to be looked after.

And then the calls got longer. There were calls at 1 in the night. At 2. At 3. And work to do before that. So while the husband worked on his MBA stuff, I work on my office stuff in the evenings. Kuttan wanders in looking like a lost soul into my office room and asks for something and gets soundly thrashed by amma and appa for his efforts. 'Why cant you cooperate? Look at all the stuff we bought you. Play with it and learn to amuse yourself', we say. Yes, we really say that!! And he goes away looking scared and heartbroken. Cerelac gets poured into the princess' mouth in a hurry to get back to work.

The worst part is the time spent with the husband. I sleep at 4 in the morning and the husband leaves for work before I wake up. And in the evenings, I am logged on to the system long before he returns. Weekends are stolen by his MBA. 'Hey, what about, you know, time in the sack?', a friend asked. I smiled sadly. Libidos are down. Needless to say, tempers flare up. Angry glances and mutters are exchanged. Communication is limited to bare-minimum functional stuff like, 'pay kuttan's fees' or 'buy Princess' formula'.

Health is deteriorating. The body cycle is completely altered so that I am unable to sleep during day or night. 'Stress', screams the doctor for everything from irregular periods to bronchitis. 'Quit' begs the mind. The ego refuses to let go. It is the easy way out, coward, whispers a scary voice inside.

I got what I wanted. Now, how do I get myself out of this? As I type this post at 3 AM, any Wise owlish souls out there, to help me decide what to do? Suggestions are most welcome and desperately needed!

Bedtime tales

2010-01-20T04:08:00.000-08:00

First it was just the two of us. Snuggling deep into the quilt and in the middle of the bed with a looot of space left over on both sides of the bed. Then kuttan arrived. Happy baby that he was, kuttan peacably slept for about a year in his crib after which he would try to get out of his crib in the middle of the night.

It became too risky to let him continue in his crib after that and the queen size bed became too small for the 3 of us. So we moved the mattress to the floor and the cot to the guest bedroom. Made a cozy little mattress in the corner for kuttan with quilts and assorted sheets and thus it continued till the sight of dirty unmade beds and sheets on the floor got to us and we bought a HUGE king sized bed. The three of us settled down comfortably and there was actually place to spare.

Out came the princess. Considering she is only 7 months old she has a few more months of crib life left in her, if she were anything like her brother. But the little firebrand that she is, she refuses to sleep in the crib and has deigned to move in with bag and baggage into our cot. So now we sleep breadthwise on the cot instead of lengthwise. Kuttan on the far end, alongside the headboard, princess next to him, me squashed in between and the husband on the other end.

Making sure kuttan does not crush her, while at the same time not crushing her myself has led to serious sleep deprivation. Four crammed bodies into a small space does not make for a restive sleep. The husband cribs and threatens to evict both the kids out of the room every night.

And yet, it does have its moments. Turning around in the dead of the night to find a small warm bundle sighing against me. A normally physically VERY undemonstrative kuttan waking up in the middle of the night to cuddle princess and go right back to sleep. A rushed school morning when we are all trying to SHOUT kuttan awake and the little princess wakes up and climbs softly over him waking him up with a smile. Four of us cuddling together on weekends under a blanket. A bigger bed? A separate room for the kids? Nah...I think I will live like this a little longer....

Insightful conversations

2009-12-11T06:52:00.000-08:00

With my delightful first born. Conversations which amaze me, make me laugh, make me think and errr...make me want to bang my head against a brick wall sometimes.

Conversation 1
Kuttan and I have stopped at a traffic light. Kuttan is chattering a mile a minute. A beggar woman comes to my side of the window, her palm containing a few coins, stretched beseechingly. I shake my head saying 'no'. Kuttan watches wide-eyed as she waits and walks away.

Kuttan: Amma, amma, why did'nt you take the money she was giving you??
Me: ????????

How many of us have ever thought of something like that? Out of the box, isnt it? ;)

Conversation 2

I am deep asleep on a cold saturday morning with kuttan next to me.

Kuttan: Amma, amma (pokes me awake)
Me(sleepily): Hmmmm?
Kuttan: (pointing to his book lying on the edge of the bed) Will that book make a noise if I push it off the bed?
Me: Yes
Kuttan: Will the princess wake up because of the noise?
Me: Yes
Kuttan: Will you be angry with me if she wakes up because of the noise?
Me: Yes

A pause while I drift to a dreamless sleep.

Kuttan: Amma, can I push it off anyways??
Me: (Gritting my teeth and calling myself ten kinds of a fool for ever having had a kid and then compounding it by having another one) NO
Kuttan: (in a small voice) Why?
Me: #@$#$%#$%$%$^@@@!!

Out with the old...

2009-11-17T21:00:00.000-08:00

..In with the new seems to be the order of the day, does’nt it? For everyone except me that is. Me, I cling to the old- tried, tested and comfortable-even after it ceases to be comfortable. And weep tears of sorrow when it is taken away from me.

Circa 2003. One year after our marriage and 6 months into my first job, I got very, very tired of going around Bangalore without a vehicle. Since amma and appa flatly refused to let me ride my two-wheeler in ‘crazy Bangalore traffic’, there really was only one option. ‘Let’s buy a car baby’, I told the husband. ‘We have no money’, the man said succinctly. ‘No problem, let’s not buy anything fancy…something really basic would do’. And it was as basic as it got.

Our first car was a second hand 3 year old Maruti 800. Appa came from Coimbatore to work out a loan for us (yes, yes, that’s how much broke we were. We had to take a loan to buy a second-hand M800 which we repaid over the next 3 years!!). But we had our own, our very own car! No more filching daddy’s car. We could do what we pleased with it.

I did not even have a driver’s license when I started driving her. She was small, easy to manage and I had no fears or qualms about driving her anywhere. There is’nt a single road, lane or by-lane to which I have not taken my beloved car. She would dutifully oblige, turning and twisting and maneuvering herself into narrow parking lots and wait patiently under sun and shine, hail and storm as I went around.

When we first bought our car, we lived in a house which did not even have a parking lot. Three houses, each consecutively bigger, and 5 years later, we still drove the same car. This was the car kuttan came home in. This was the car which had sticky candy, gift wrapper and water bottles strewn all over the back seat. Where the seats contained scruff marks of tiny booted feet. And none of it bothered us too much because it was old and comfortable and we did not fuss too much about keeping it in tip-top shape.

Our friends had moved on to snazzier, bigger cars and we were the object of much leg-pulling and laughter on account of the car we drove. We took it all in our stride but I stood firm. ‘No new car. This is doing just fine.’ When the husband would talk about some new car taking the market by the storm, I would hear him vaguely, my mind elsewhere, not really believing I would ever drive anything else.

Then, after 9 years of existence, 6 with us, the old girl started giving trouble. She would stop bang in the middle of the road. She would not start. The repair costs were mounting. And so, after a lot of thought, we gave away our first car and brought home a new car last month. I bade farewell sadly as they drove my beloved little car out the garage, knowing she gave me the kind of freedom and mobility that I would never experience again.

Boys will be boys. And men will be boys too. The man and the boy in my life are totally taken with the sexy, bold woman in their lives. ‘Look at the alloy wheels. Look at the engine power and the pickup’, the man gushes. ‘Look at the windows rolling down on their own. Look at the beautiful seats, amma’, the boy squawks, clapping his hands with glee. I nod my head and smile sadly, all the while missing the comfort of my torn seats and the slow, steady sound she would make as she sleepily started.

I refused to drive the new car for a month. Because I still missed my old car and because this one was too big, too new for my comfort. Finally, for practical reasons and urged and tormented endlessly by the husband, I drove her last week. Driving my old car felt like talking to my spinster aunt. She was slow, comforting, easily controlled. I could count on her never to want to run away from me. This new one was like a headstrong, sexy young girl. Sure of her powers and attraction and her place in my man’s heart. Taunting me, challenging me, chafing against the tight leash I put on her, wanting to release all the barely controlled energy and fly.

I may become friends with my new car. She may gentle against my control with time and learn to take my instructions more obligingly. Maybe it’s just a matter of time…but till then, I don’t like her. I don’t like her at all.

Unrequited Love

2009-11-09T10:57:00.000-08:00

All of 4 years old, kuttan fell in love over the summer. 'She is so pretty amma', he said. 'I like her a LOOOT', he said, his eyes widening. He hid under my dupatta and blushed painfully when she smiled at him. 'Why don't you cut your hair like her amma?', he asked, looking down his nose at the few wisps of hair that still cling to my scalp after all the hair pulling. 'Why don't you wear sarees like her amma?'

'She' is his class teacher. The love affair happened over the summer as he joined LKG and went to class, all apprehensive and nervous. June was a busy month for the Bangalore household with Kuttan's new school and little princess's arrival. I was worried about how kuttan would adjust to so many changes at once. As it turned out, I need'nt have. Ms.B smiled at him gently as I led him to class on the first day and kuttan took one look at her and I knew things would be ok, in school at least.

He would come from school and sing Ms.B's praises. If I said anything contrary to her words, I would be summarily shot down. 'You dont know anything amma'. And when we went for the PTA I could see the feelings were entirely reciprocated. Kuttan seems to have shared all his feelings, his joy and sadness and fears with Ms.B. A cheerful, warm young woman who was sensitive to my baby boy's needs and knew just how to deal with all his childish fears and anxieties.

Last week, kuttan came back from school and said 'Amma, I have 2 madams in class now.' The husband and I exchanged glances, fearing the worst. 'Maybe Ms.B is going to leave kanna', I suggested gently. 'No', came the explosive shout. I wisely kept quiet.

Tonight the husband had a call from Ms.B who said she was leaving. She called because kuttan was so attached to her and she was worried about him, about how he would adapt. Could you please explain to him, she asked. What do I say, I thought to myself all the while thinking how graceful it was of her to call in the first place.

Husband and I called kuttan and told him Ms.B was going away. When is she coming back, he asked innocently. She isnt baby, I told him. And watched realization slowly dawn. And tears fill those big, soft eyes of his. Call her amma, I will tell her not to leave, he begged. A long talk followed. About how people sometimes have to go away and new people come and we learn to love them as much. About the need to adjust to changes even though it may be difficult at times. At the end of it we ask, 'So are we ok honey? What are you going to tell Ms.B tomorrow?'

Pat comes the reply, 'I am going to say I love you and don't cry too much when you leave me and go, ok?' Someday, my darling, you are going to find someone who cant resist that charm of yours and who will decide to stay back with you. Forever. Till that day, well, you have your mom and dad.

Three months with the princess

2009-09-10T09:30:00.000-07:00

Dear princess,

It has been 3 months since you arrived. I cannot help thinking about how different your arrival and impact has been on us compared to your brother's.

Kuttan walked into our hearts right royally the minute we came to know I was expecting. As the first baby in the family after a long time, his place as the unchallenged darling of the household was virtually guaranteed. We were young first-time parents rushing to the paed if he so much as sneezed.

You, on the other hand came at a time when we are still coping with a major loss. But for all that,you have made a place for yourself in our home and our hearts. This is the way you have affected each one of our lives:

The husband: I have to admit, this came as a surprise. First, this was a man who swore he would never have a second baby. A man's man. A guy who gets a LOT of pleasure kicking a ball around with his son. When we found out we were expecting, and I was going ballistic wanting a girl,I know he secretly hoped for a boy. Just so that I am hopelessly outnumbered at home. And so that they can all shake their head sadly when they think I am being crazy.

And then you arrived. And your father turned into mush. And you wound him around your little finger, just like that! While kuttan was clearly a papa's boy from day one, you seem to show some allegiance to me, which I must admit, is gratifying. I see this man turn green with jealousy when you bestow one of your gummy smiles on me and do his damnedest to lure a smile out of you. I see the tenderness in his eyes when he rocks you to sleep and I thank God for giving me the wisdom to marry the man.

Kuttan: This is a slightly more complicated relationship, for obvious reasons. He desperately wanted you out of my tummy when you were in it, and now that you are out, he wants you to go back inside! But for all that, he has been an amazing bg brother and you, young lady, are very lucky to have him.

He is the one who comes tearing across the house when you cry. He is the one who commands, 'Check her nappy' or 'Feed her, she's hungry' if you cry for more than a few minutes. He endlessly sngs to you and you are a rapt audience which does wonders for his ego. He is also the one who pulls your feet a little too hard or kisses you on the mouth till you are choking but you seem to take it all in your stride and reserve all your best smiles for him.

Me: For me this is my chance to right all the mistakes I made with kuttan, to relax a little bit, to just let you be while I watch you grow. Except for the first hellish month when you just WOULD'NT sleep through the night when I thought you would drive me out of my mind and I even suggested hiding you under the stairs at night so that I could get some sleep, you have been a remarkably unobtrusive baby and I thank you for that. I don't think we could have handled a new school, a new house, a new project and an overly demanding MBA otherwise. As I watch you budding into a little person with your own personality, I am looking forward to all the many milestones that are going to come.

Have a wonderful first year princess. I am looking forward to the months ahead.

Love
Mom

Home is where the heart is..

2009-08-27T06:39:00.000-07:00

Back after a long hiatus. There is always something very special about one's hometown is'nt it? A place which holds very special memories for you, a place where you leave behind some very special people. A place where more the things change, the more they remain the same.

My earliest memories are of standing on the foot board of my father's trusted green Chetak scooter and driving along D.B.Road to go to my grandmother's house. A rambling old compound which had two big houses, a well an unused shed which held many 'treasures' for us and lots of space all around. Hall was referred to as 'koodam' and the dining place was referred to as 'chinna koodam'.

The house itself was filled with people. People from all generations and from all different branches of the family. People with many different quirks and foibles with my grandmother indulging them all and holding the fort. A house which was home to any distant relative who happened to be passing through. A house that saw a lot of marriages, births and deaths. A house that held us all together even though we lived separately.

Later, as I grew older and appa got transferred all over the country, Coimbatore was still home. The epicenter. The place we rushed back to during every vacation. A town which grew into a big city but retained all its familiarity for my father. And the old house was still overflowing with people. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grand aunts and grand uncles, random relatives.

Appa was passionately in love with Cbe and remained that way right till the end. When appa took the first opportunity to come back to Cbe, both parents were relieved and happy. I was a pre-teen and started building my own bonds with the city. My parents settled and put down roots. Built a house. Made friends within the community. And by this time, the family exodus had begun and people had started moving out one by one till, at last, appa remained the last link to Cbe for the entire family.

I went back to Coimbatore after a long time this week. I expected to feel pain and a sense of emptiness. A feeling of not belonging anymore. A feeling of having moved on. I did feel pain. From the moment I stepped off the train, there were overwhelmingly painful memories of appa all around. But there was also the feeling of warmth. Of having stepped into a comfortable, cozy spot after a long, tiring journey. Of finally having come home.

Coimbatore, I guess, will always be home. A place where people refer to my 2 month old infant daughter respectfully as 'vaanga' because it is the norm of the land. A place where the water is so sweet, people fill bottles of it to take home when they leave. A place where my son gets to carry and play with goats and puppies on the road. Where if I just come out in the morning, people will make it a point to stop by and say a kind word or two. A place filled with memories. My old school. My old college. The place where I met my husband. A beautiful place still left with good, innocent folk.

The heart yearns to leave behind this big city madness and go back into the warm, familiar lap of my city. My city. But will I ever dare to make the decision to opt out of the rat race? Even if I dont, and I grow old in this place, in my heart, I guess Coimbatore will always remain home.

It's a Girl!!!!!

2009-06-16T00:56:00.000-07:00

Little Princess arrived on the 11th of June

Mom and baby are doing fine.

Kuttan is thrilled

Bangalore-dad

Mastering the Alphabet

2009-05-03T21:48:00.000-07:00

It has now been almost a year since kuttan started attempting to master the alphabet. The capitals and the small letters and the cursive. I have not been taking it too seriously and have generally gone with the flow, just letting him learn as much as he does from school while occasionally asking him to read out from newspapers and billboards trying to understand how much he knew. Well the other day, as I went to pick him up from school, he bounded alongside me and burst out with great enthusiasm, 'Amma, E(who is his most bosom pal on earth) and I went to do susu together and were standing in the opposite ends and you know what?? We made an 'X' with our susu'!!!! Ewwww!!! The husband is still grinning looking mightily amused by this shockingly male bathroom behavior. I, on the other hand am going around still ewwwing about it. The fact that he CAN recognise 'X' in any form is scant comfort right now....God have mercy and give me a delicate daughter the next time around! On an aside, I have always wondered how men get to pee standing right next to each other without a trace of shame.....I mean, imagine casually talking shop with your boss over a urinal!! Ewwwwwwww!!!!!!

The grass on the other side

2009-04-05T21:11:00.000-07:00

So I have been temporarily out of work for the last 6 months. A state of affairs which is likely to continue for another 6 months at the very least. Strangely, with each passing day, as this pregnancy stretches on interminably, tempers get shorter and the mercury inches upward and I find myself missing aspects about my working life more and more. Stuff which I miss the most:

1. I miss getting up each day with a sense of purpose and urgency- of things that need to be planned, stuff that needs to be finished.
2. I miss the delicious 5 minutes of sleep I used to get after hitting the snooze button on my alarm one more time. Now, with no office to get ready to go, and amma to fill in for me to do the cooking, there is simply no motivation to get up in the morning...and hence no value for those last delicious 5 minutes of snuggling.
3. I miss this the most....getting dolled up to go to work. I never took my work for granted. Ever. Every single day that I could go to work was a blessing. And I made the most of it. I took my time out deciding which dress I would wear. Neatly ironed cotton salwar one day, trousers the next, crisp cotton sarees on thursdays, jeans on fridays and so on. I would have a competition with myself to see how long I can go without repeating the same outfit.
4. I miss listening to FM as I drove to work. Those few minutes of solitude where I felt comfortably alone, and yet a significant part of the rest of the world of people who were going somewhere and had important things to do.
5. I miss being the first one in my team to go to work and that tense anticipation as I checked my email, waiting for some bugs, some new issue to work, some weird problem that has cropped up overnight.
6. I miss the sigh of relief that came with knowing that everything is right in the world of code that I had written and the leisurely morning cuppa that came after an initial round of mail checking.
7. I miss being a part of the adult world and adult talk shop. The stale jokes, the office politics.
8. I miss feeling hungry by 12.30 and eagerly anticipating my dabba lunch.
9. I miss the rush of adrenaline as I rush to kuttan's daycare early in the evening and the look on his face as I pick him up and we snuggle.
10. I miss being able to talk shop with the husband. Nowadays, it sometimes feels like we are part of two different worlds, with nothing in common.
11. I miss the feeling of power and joy I used to get as I received that sms at the end of every month stating my salary has been credited into my account. There, briefly, it all seemed worth the trouble.

I think the heat and the pregnancy and the lack of purpose are making me a very crabby person. Does anyone know how to beat the summer blues?

I am back!!

2009-03-22T21:17:00.000-07:00

Not to sound like Shwarzenegger in Terminator but - I am back!! I could say I have been terribly busy with career and home,have been travelling around the world, have been sweating it out besides the husband in his quest for knowledge a.k.a his ill-timed MBA but none of it would be true.

The truth was I was
a. too much of a lazy ass to actually sit down and type.
b. I was licking my wounds in private and was too chicken to reach out to anyone.
c. I can't be too sure but I think it also has a little to do with the condition I am in.

Life is funny. Yes, yes I know you have all heard it from me before but I cannot say it enough. A year back my biggest dilemma and bone of contention was whether or not to have another baby and the fact that we couldn't watch Friday night movies anymore because of the husband's MBA. Then 6 months back my world came crashing around my ears quite literally as appa passed away. When they took him away, I sat down and begged him for a sign, any sign, that things are going to be ok. My mind refused to comprehend that the man who had just a few hours ago been gently teasing me and laughing with me was gone forever. That I would have to do without him for all eternity. That he could slip away in front of my eyes and I could do nothing. I begged appa to show me a sign that he is still around somewhere, watching over us. That there is hope that there will be a hint of normalcy in my life again.

Everyday I would get up and look around the house, go through his stuff looking for anything that could be construed as a sign that he was trying to tell me something. None were forthcoming. We moved back to Bangalore with amma and things went from bad to worse as she fell into great depths of depression and had to be hospitalised, not once but twice. I was in serious danger of losing both my parents. I was at the edge of the abyss and knew it will only be a matter of time before I went over.

And then our miracle happened and I found out I was pregnant again. And just like that, I got the sign I was looking for. The baby is due in June and I am thrilled. I cannot help comparing the two pregnancies. When I found out I was pregnant with kuttan, I was probably the most fussed over mom in this side of the continent. Amma and appa immediately travelled to Bangalore loaded with goodies. I went off to Cbe during the 7th month of my pregnancy and spent the rest of the time goofing around. Things are quieter this time. More subdued and sober. I am busier and have more responsibilities weighing on my mind.

But, for all that, this baby is no less a miracle than the last one. While kuttan's pregnancy was all saccharine sweet, this has a bittersweet feel to it. This baby has come to tell us that life goes on and as old members leave, new members join the fold. A vaccum is created but a new space in your heart is lit up with love...and hope. My father's sisters were sure it was my father coming back. 'I told you', said my aunt. 'He can't go anywhere that fast...he couldn't leave us like that'. It gives them great comfort to believe that and I get some happiness from that. But for myself, I see appa sitting somewhere up there, looking down at us, and pulling all the strings, just to give me a sign that things are going to be ok.

Rest in peace, Daddy

2009-01-11T21:37:00.000-08:00

Dear daddy

I have been trying to come up with a clever, light and witty post to kick start the new year. Something that will bring a smile on one's face for a few minutes. But everytime I sat down to write it, I had a vague feeling of being dishonest with myself. All I really want to do is talk about you, appa. I am finally ready to do it. And I will not be able to do anything else till I get it off my chest. All of my memories - the good, bad and ugly ones. The good ones that I try to cling to, in fear that I may forget, which would mean I have nothing left of you. The bad and terrible ones which continue to haunt my dreams in the night, making me wake up in tears even now - 4 months after you are gone.

If I had to find one word to describe you, it probably would be - optimism. Boundless, endless optimism which helped you claw your way back out of so many tough situations. Foolish optimism which made you believe you were invincible despite all those deadly cigarettes you smoked. I dont know what you were thinking, poppech.

My earliest memories are of sleepy mornings when I would wake up from bed and find you sitting on the kitchen floor reading your Hindu and drinking that all important brew- coffee. How many cups of coffee did you drink in a day, poppech? 10? 12? All the fights between you and amma when she would get all dolled up to go somewhere and you would say, .'oru vaai kaapi thayen'. And she would need to go to the kitchen again and she hated it.

I remember how much your amazing sense of humour and your utter irreverence against everyone and everything. About how everyone from the postman to rangi to the poor, hapless vadhyar had to succumb to your razor sharp wit. About how your sisters and mother pretended to hate the way you teased people but always ended up bursting out laughing. The utterly tasteless bathroom jokes you shared with your nephew which used to make the rest of us want to puke, but used to give the two of you such great mirth.

I remember how big your dreams for me were. And yet, how gracefully you let me be the person I wanted to be. I wonder at your big-heartedness which allowed you to never, ever superimpose your expectations over me.

You were, and still are, the best husband I have ever seen. Unfailingly devoted. Extremely supportive. Sensitive to amma's smallest needs. Proud of her tiniest accomplishment. Indulgent. Generous to her family. A great giver. When we first found out amma was diabetic, you were so devastated. And when amma lost her mother, you thought she would never, ever get over the grief and worried endlessly over her. And, how disturbed you were about her health in the last few years and, now that I come to think of it, it used to be our sole topic of conversation the last few years.

You shared a great rapport with the husband, daddy. It was a bond that went beyond the usual FIL and Son-in-law bond and something that I was so proud of. You welcomed him with grace and generosity into our tight-knit family which made the transition seem so effortless. You treated him like a long lost son sometimes and a buddy some other times. You loved it that you had one more male who can rib the ladies of the house with you and treated him to all insider information of our famous shopping gaffes and family jokes and soon it felt like he had grown up right alongside me. Now when I talk about athai patti or Achuppa who passed away many, many years before he even entered the picture, he still gets it. And that's because of you. You used to give him endless advice on the stock market. You were, in many ways, our financial mentor and I used to be so proud that the husband used to consult you before making any major decisions - not as a father-in-law but as a man whose financial judgement he respected. You took us by our fingers and taught us to walk the path, gently and one step at a time. You used to pack our stuff for us, filling countless jars with pickles and sweets and murukku and chips everytime we came to Cbe as though we were two underfed children incapable of feeding ourselves. And you used to fill covers with amma's various podis and label them carefully as 'Rasa podi' and 'Sambhar podi' because you knew I did not know the difference between the two.

You were the most indulgent grandfather a child could ever have known or hoped for. Indulgent to a fault. You spoilt kuttan till it drove me nuts. You used to make your most important clients listen to his endless gibberish on the phone without a trace of embarrassment. 'If they don't like it, I dont do business with them', you told me when I tried to take him away. You allowed him to write with his crayons on freshly painted walls and even amma, who is no less an indulgent grandparent than you, was forced to put her foot down. I remember your excitement at the idea of picking us up from the station everytime we would make the trip from Bangalore to Cbe. Of how you used to wait at the station from 6 am for a train that did not come before 7. Of how you used to fight with mummy to be the first one to lift kuttan out of my arms. Of how you used to drive home all the while glancing at kuttan, till the husband would laughingly tell you to pull over and offer to drive himself.

I never, ever imagined what a life without you will be like. It all happened so suddenly and took us all by storm that I barely had time to breathe. People tell me you had the best possible death. That you were hospitalised for those 2 weeks only so that we could spend time with you and then you came home and were able to die peacefully with your family around you. Maybe its true. But all I can think of is those last few minutes and the look in your eyes as they quietly closed. One minute you were lying there, laughing, joking, still weak from the hospital but incredibly strong willed, and the next minute you were gone. Just like that. And I dont think it is a coinidence that your last words to me were, 'I'm very comfortable'.

The memories continue to haunt me. And I am left with the need to be strong, both for kuttan and amma's sake. Life continues relentlessly, stopping for no one. I, in the meantime, am reduced to tears at the merest hint of a memory. Life has become an endless conversation of, 'appa would have said this' or 'appa would have done that'.

My biggest challenge would be to keep your memories alive for my son. To make him know that he was the recipient of a love greater than anything else, from a man who was willing to give him the world on a platter. I have big shoes to fill. But the responsibility of being your daughter is one that I do not take lightly.

Rest in peace, daddy. You were the greatest husband, father and the most magnificient grandfather I have seen. And you did a fine job of living and loving. I am honoured to be your daughter. Love you.

Yours forever,
Your daughter

My first award....

2009-01-07T04:40:00.000-08:00

comes at a time when my blogging frequency has been at an all-time low. Thanks Noonie for this award. Good to know that something I started on a lark has reached out and brought me a bunch of friends from around the globe.

These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to more bloggers who must choose more and include this text into the body of their award.

There are so many people in the blogosphere whom I want to pass on this award to. But here are some of my favorites.

JLT
Abha and her amazing CubbyR
Poppins

Just a few names that came to my head first. There are loads and loads of bloggers I love to read and get that warm, fuzzy feeling like we have been friends forever whenever I read them.

Tales of puppy love

2008-12-03T03:47:00.000-08:00

Let it be recorded here for posterity that kuttan has had his first taste of puppy love. Meaning to say that he has just found an ardent, faithful and extremely beautiful admirer in the opposite sex from his own class - let's call her S.

The conversation between us went like this...

Me: So what did you do in school today baby?
K: I played with S...
(Pauses)
Amma, andha S enna chumma chumma kiss panra.. (S keeps kissing me)

The husband, deeply engrossed in the 'Classified' section of 'The Hindu' (we really, really believe in getting our money's worth) removes his nose out of the paper for the first time with a glimmer of interest in his eyes.

Me: Really? Why?
K: I don't know.

And the conversation is forgotten soon afterwards.

I went to pick him up from school in the afternoon and sure enough, as we get ready to leave, I see S hovering adoringly around him while my stupid, tasteless son is busy monkeying around with another boy. And then as we are just leaving, she helps him put on his shoes!! ( Whoa girl! Lesson one: Never, ever wear your heart on your sleeve.) Kuttan looks at me with the long suffering look of someone who's enduring something with great difficulty while I take in the sheer cuteness of the scene. And then she says bye with a nice, sweet kiss. My heart just melted and was in danger of puddling around my feet and what does my son do? Grimaces and wipes his face and nonchalantly walks off with me!!

The boy shows every sign of following in his father's footsteps...ah, well, another long story and one that I will probably never tell..:D

Why I was away...

2008-11-30T21:05:00.000-08:00

Its ironic that I wrote about how unpredictable life can be only a few posts ago....It seems like a million light years ago since that time, a different era and it feels like I was a different person then.

I lost my father to a massive heart attack nearly 3 months back, 5th of September to be precise. Its been almost 3 months since life changes irrevocably, never to be the same again. I have stayed away from blogging because, somehow, even now it seems like putting it in words will make it too real, too permanent. The wound is still too raw and the pain is still too fresh for me to write anything coherent about daddy just now.

I will probably write about it sometime. But for now, I will continue to write posts about regular normal stuff...and go on pretending that all I need to do is press the beloved Coimbatore number to hear that beautiful voice pick up the phone and say, 'Enna kanne?'. I need to continue fooling myself. Just for a little while longer.

A few tips for men....

2008-07-31T01:43:00.000-07:00

...on how to treat their wives after a visit to the parlour.

* After your wife comes back from half a day spent in the beauty parlor while you pulled your hair out in desperation at being left alone with the progeny, she is watching you for your reaction every step of the way from the minute she gets down from the auto.

* At all points in time, keep looking at her face adoringly and with wonder as though all your adult male fantasies have come true in her. Do NOT try to do something as unimportant as taking your son to the bathroom as he hops urgently from one foot to the other. This move of yours may be misconstrued as lack of interest on her part.

* In the interest of your peace and happiness ever after, please PAY ATTENTION as she discusses what she is going to be doing at the parlor BEFORE she leaves home. There will be questions when she gets back and I know that its not in your genes to be able to tell when she got a manicure with colorless nail varnish and if you had just paid attention to what she said, you may be able to suitably admire and ooh and aah over her nails.

* Do not even blink or miss a beat when she asks you how her hair color looks. Whether it is a garish baby pink or the exact same shade as she always had, always, always say with great enthusiasm, 'Awesome baby!! I love it..'

* If you do not like her haircut and both of you have an open and honest relationship where you discuss everything, well, this just aint one of them...You just have to zip up till the hair grows back...

* She has spent the best part of the day wincing as her body hair got pulled off her legs and arms and eyebrows and upper lip....believe me when I tell you, its bloody painful. Do NOT tell her how boring shaving is and how lucky women are to be able to wax body hair off...You just may find your legs getting waxed as you sleep one of these days.

* Do not ask blanch, or show any negative emotion at the amount of money she spent at the parlour, if, for some perverse reason, you need to ask at all.

* And last, but not the least, do not commit the cardinal sin. As she looks at you expectantly after getting her uber-cool haircut which her stylist assures her will make her look like a bomb, if you do not want grievious bodily injury and loss to preoperty, do not innocently ask her, 'What, no haircut????'

A chumma post

2008-07-21T23:49:00.000-07:00

No, not the Hindi chumma. The Tamil one, meaning Just like that. And did you know that's not even an original Tamil word?

Anyway, I digress. I have not posted in sometime and have some(ok, ok) 1 anxious reader asking if things are ok. Thanks for asking, dear friend, and things are fine and dandy at the Bangalore household. It was a combination of sheer laziness and lethargy during weekdays and total head spinning craziness over the weekends that have kept me from posting. Some random updates:

It's been a month since Hubby's MBA classes started. To say that its changed our lives completely would be putting it too mildly.

When kuttan was born 3 and a half years ago, the whole family celebrated. The parents and in-laws were elated. Aunts and uncles rejoiced and friends called up to congratulate. Hubby and I, on the other hand, went about in a daze, not quite sure about what we were supposed to do with the little screaming, pooping bundle that I had, with ample help from the husband, brought into the world.

We looked at each other and did'nt say the words but might as well have shouted it out to each other. 'What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?' Kuttan was born on a MOnday and things continued on the same exhausting vein till I came home on Friday.

I came home on Friday morning. That night, on kuttan's first night home, we sent my parents packing upstairs. And then we switched off the lights in the living room and tuned to HBO to see 'Clear and Present Danger'. Ah, bliss!! I cannot tell you how liberating the feeling was. We can still have a life after all, we thought to ourselves, as we grinned at each other like idiots, as our infant son lay sleeping in the crib near us. See, our life has changed but our hallowed Friday ritual remains the same.

Things pretty much remained the same over the last few years as well. Come hell or high water, the Friday night was sacrosanct. A week ended. Two whole days to relax and look forward to. Satuday morning to lie in and wake up at, gasp!, a sinful 9 am! The schedule never varied. Dinner outside. Stop by at the DVD shop on the way back. Pore over the collection and argue over which movie to watch for HOURS. Finally, as a compromise, pick a movie that NEITHER of us like. Come home. Give kuttan his milk and make him sleep on the couch in the living room. Bring the beanbag over to the living room. Turn off the lights and switch on DVD...ah, bliss!! It was a rite of passage followed most faithfully. Until last month.

Well, all that has changed now. Hubby has classes on Friday morning and Saturday morning at the UnGodly hour of 8. To add insult to injury, he has tests and assignments that are, invariably due on Saturday. And thus, a much loved ritual came to a quiet end in the BM household in the past month.

But the hubby has a loooot of gyan to share on microeconomics and strategy to make up for the missed Friday nights...what a GREAT trade off, would'nt you call it?? Grrrr....It's taking sooo much out of me to play the part of the supportive wife I tell you!!

Where did my baby go?

2008-07-06T22:03:00.000-07:00

Kuttan was one of th sunniest and most cheerful babies I ever knew. Not that I knew many but considering the mountains of baby literature I had read and the folklore I had heard from everyone from amma to my neighbour's maid about sleepless nights and crying babies, when the real thing happened, I found the going surprisingly easy.

One of my closest friends tell me I am the most optimistic persons she knows. She is 2 years younger than me and when she finally became pregnant, she came to yours truly for advice. How difficult is it, she asked me, a veteran who had a year old baby by then. Oh, no problem, I told her airily. Do anything you want to. Morning sickness? I had none. Tiredness? Drowsiness? The kind of lethargy that was usually a part of the first trimester? No, no and no again. The only time I puked was when I stuffed my face with a greasy chocolate cake from a bakery with questionable hygiene. Yes, yes, I was pregnant and still went around eating from places like these quite happily. You can do it too, I told her for good measure. Just as well that she wisely chose to ignore my advice.

The delivery? Was a c-sec. The easiest c-sec ever. I did not have a moment of labor. I went in and came out with a baby and that was the end of that. When the baby finally arrived, he was so quiet on the first day at the hospital that the nurses actually crowded around his crib to see this 'baby whi never cried'. I and amma as usual worried about it and begged and pleaded with his paed to check if everything was ok with him. The doctor told us in utter exasperation that we were two women who could'nt recognise a good thing when we saw it and he was surprised that such a happy baby had come out of me!! Anyway, all that changed on day 2 when kuttan decided to give us what we asked for and let out wails that were enough to wake the dead. All night long.

But apart from doing stuff that babies must ABSOLUTELY DO, like crying and peeing and pooping the MINUTE I sit down to eat, I have had it remarkably easy all this time. He started sleeping through the night by the time he was 6 months old and I have never had a chance to fret whether I will EVER get a full night of sleep. I have'nt had trouble weaning him or toilet training him. He has always been an extremely happy baby, at peace with himself and the world.

Obviously when things are so perfect that I am beginning to think I am all set for the next one, God thinks to Himself, oh no, not that fast. And sure enough, hubby and I have been seeing some remarkable changes in his personality over the last few weeks. And they are not changes I am happy with.

I have been observing an increasing amount of aggression in kuttan. Something which was also observed by his teacher and the neighbour's maid. Every play session ends up in a fight with the other kids with amma and appa having to act as referees. Whereas earlier he would cheerfully go along with the other kids and share his toys, these days he creates a ruckus. Where earlier he would charm the trees off the birds with his smile and sunny disposition, I see him talking back to people and not very politely either.

I see a streak of unruliness in him that was not ther before. And I am worried. I know that this could just be a phase where he is trying to assert his personality and eventually he will be ok again but I miss my baby. As usual, the spectre of working mom guilt rears its ugly head again and I talk it out with the husband till he claims his ears are ready to fall off. 'Maybe I should quit my job', I tell him. As my friend says, that's my solution to everything from the Iraq war to my domestic help's failed marriage. But I do not even know how much that will help. I do get back home by 5.30 and in the software industry that is a miracle by itself. And after that, I spend every minute with kuttan, taking him to the park, playing with him and the other kids, helping him with his homework. How much more will I be able to do as a Stay-at-home mom?

We have never enforced a very strict routine on Kuttan because he just kind of fell into our routine quite easily, without much effort. But I think it's time we instilled some discipline on him in terms of listening to what we say instead of asking us a thousand questions as to why he needs to do something and arguing with us.

A part of me knows what is happening. My baby is growing into a little boy. A spirited, intelligent boy who needs to do something because he BELIEVES in it rather than because amma asked him to. A discerning boy who will fight with his friend if he does not get his turn with the bat instead of allowing his friend to take all the turns himself. A boy who rebels against his mother as she asks him to do one more page of homework before going out to play. I guess I should be happy. But wait a minute....did I tell you he is only three and a half years old? Did the teens come a wee bit early for my son?

This one's for you, my love

2008-06-30T21:25:00.000-07:00

I guess Yash Raj would never pay us a penny to make our love life into a movie. There is'nt any melodrama, any mush. There are no cute lines or fancy locales. There is no possibility of introducing lengthy, profound dialogues. As far as love stories go, ours was the simplest.

We met in college. We were both part of the college orchestra. He was 2 years my senior. I had a crush, he hid his very well. Both of us refused to talk about it till he had been placed through campus interviews and we did talk then only to awkwardly say, 'let's see, maybe...if everything works out in a couple of years' time' and left the rest unsaid. We were both too devoted to our families to be able to make a greater commitment than that at the said point of time.

To give our parents credit, they appreciated our restraint and gave us the go ahead. No questions asked. There were none to be asked, since we both belonged to the same religion, caste and sub-caste and were even related to each other in a very distant way. And we got married, 6 years ago, almost to the day.

And that's when the real love story began, and continues to this day. This is the man who knows all my deepest fears, my greatest sorrows. The man who opens the door to our apartment simply by recognising my footsteps on the corridor. The eternal giver. My rock who holds me patiently while I rant and rage at the world, my boss, my mother and mother-in-law and waits for the storm to pass. Who senses my tears falling quietly on the pillow and takes me in his arms even when he is sleeping. The man who knows when I am rambling on looking for advice and when I am grumbling only because I need somebody to listen and let me sort it out myself. The man who treats my family with respect and love even while they are driving me nuts.

The man I discuss EVERYTHING with, who always believes in me more than I believe in myself. I have seen him grow from a boy to a man. And what a man he has grown to be. My heart swells with pride at the way he has built our life, brick by brick, with love, understanding and empathy. And at the astounding amount of success he has met with at so young an age. And how he aspires for even more, just so that we can have the best.

And more than anything else, I love the father he is to my son. When kuttan looks at his father with total adoration in his eyes and I see it reflected in his father's eyes, I send out a little prayer of thanks to God Almighty. He, indeed, has made all my dreams come true and I could not possibly want for anything more.

I think my conversation with kuttan a couple of days ago sums it up aptly. So we were lying in bed and cuddling each other as Hubby was doing an assignment in the living room. 'Amma, Avya is my friend', he spoke up suddenly. 'Very good, Kanna.' 'But appa is your deepest friend and best friend, no?'. Yes, my love. My deepest and best friend. And the love of my life. A love that burns so bright that I'm consumed by it sometimes, and is so mellow that I bask in its warmth some other times. He's everything that I ever wanted.

As they say, we've only just started. The best is yet to come. Belated Happy anniversary darling.

A dream that may never be..

2008-06-22T22:45:00.000-07:00

This is going to be a difficult post to write. I wondered for a long time whether I should even write it at all. But then, in the end I decided to go ahead because I wanted to sort out the thoughts inside my head and, obviously, I wanted to hear from you guys even though I already know what some of you think about this.

I am an only child as the regular (read 2 nos.) readers of this blog might know. And as Boo has pointed out in her latest post, I always thought our family of 3 was just perfect. I had loads of cousins and extended family staying in Coimbatore and even though we did'nt live under a single roof, we met up very often. I, however, was not very close with any of my cousins while I was growing up. I was always a bit of a precocious child, quiet and shy and was happiest when I was in the company of my books.

Amma and appa made for wonderful company but they were also quite happy to leave me alone in the company of my books and imagination quite often. I have never known the joy of playing long hours under the sun, getting into mischief with cousins and siblings during balmy afternoons while the rest of the household slept, of small adventures in the neighborhood. I always got all the action I wanted from my books. I lost myself in a world of mystery and intrigue, got hopelessly thrilled by the adventures of the Enid Blyton books and the action in the Nancy Drew series well. I started reading these books while other kids my age were still reading Amar Chithra Katha and Tinkle, I moved on to bigger things.

The strange thing about all this is I never felt anything was amiss while I was growing up. I was never the athletic rough and tumble kind anyways and it wasnt long after the last vestiges of childhood were gone and I was married and listened to hubby talk about his childhood did I wish that I had had a little more action-packed eventful childhood. That I had been a little more naughty, a little more bold and daring and had lived, at least for a while, a little dangerously.

Today, after all these years, I wonder if some of my timidity may have been due to lack of company as a child. And it brings to fore uncomfortable questions for me. Do I want to deprive kuttan of a sibling's company the way I was? Is another baby right for us?

When I got married, I never had a single doubt that I would have 2 or more kids. The more the merrier, I thought. Then came the c-section, the nightmarish post-partum recovery period and the intensely frustrating period of the first year of kuttan's life when I quit my job and realised I did'nt enjoy it as much as I thought I would. After a couple of disastrous attempts to get back on the career wagon, I finally succeeded in doing so by the fag end of 2006. Things, touch wood, have been reasonably stable since then.

It seems to be my nature to rock the boat when things are fine because suddenly the desire for another child slowly seemed to be forming in my mind. The famous baby shower with so many moms expecting their second babies strengthened my conviction that it is the right thing to do. When I finally found a moment of peace and quiet that is required to discuss matters of grave importance such as these, I enlisted the err...help of my partner-in-crime. He succinctly said, 'no'.

Simple and straightforward describes husband best. He definitely did not mince words. He reminded me in painfully embarrassing detail about all the times when I had whined and cried about having to stay home. He played his trump card when he cunningly asked me, 'Do you really want to give up your career after having fought for it so hard? And if you don't, can you bear to leave 2 kids instead of one in the daycare day after day? How much time can you spend with them?'. I was defeated hands down. I let things lie low for a while before deciding to take it up on a war footing again. But no matter how much I begged and pleaded, this usually sweet-natured, easy-going man seemed strong-as-steel on this one.

I don't blame him. I think I might have put him off babies forever with all the whining and crying I did. We got married when the husband was barely 25 and had a baby by the time he was 28. He had given up doing all the fun things for 2 years and now he was READY to get back his life..he deserved it. And in many ways, he is right. But that's not why I am still hesitating about this. My reasons are quite, quite different from his.

My first and most important reason is lack of support. Amma has been diabetic for 12 years now. Every year, I see her systems getting weaker and weaker as she battles with this insiduous disease. It took all the energy she had for her to see me through my first delivery. I do not think she has it in her to see me through a second one and I am worried about the effect it could have on her health. The MIL is faring no better in the health department either which basically means we will be left with 2 kids to take care of, all on our own, and the prospect is daunting, to say the least.

My career is another thing that I have to think of. 2 kids definitely means quitting my job. Double the expenses and half the income. But the most important thing is this - it takes two to make a baby and I want both the people to want it just as badly. The husband is an ambitious man. He wants the best in the world for kuttan and me and I love him for it. How can I not? He has taken up the MBA course for this very reason and he will need the flexibilty to experiment and take a risk or two when he is done with it. How can I weigh him down with a baby at that crucial point in his life?

I am not saying that we will never ever have another baby. Life is funny that way. Just when you think you have it all figured out God smiles to himself and alters all your plans. But it is unlikely that it may happen anytime soon.

And still, whenever I see a tiny baby, whenever I hug kuttan and wistfully see the baby frame disappearing and a gangly boyish frame taking its place, when I go to a toy store and see the cutest possible cribs and smallest possible booties that I am sure no human feet can ever fit into, whenever I see the tiniest pattu pavadais and I bury may face into sweet smelling babies of other people, I have to admit, the heart does skip a beat and I desperately wish things could have been different.

Chennai means....

2008-06-19T00:21:00.000-07:00

frolicking endlessly on hot summer days in the inflatable pool in thatha's backyard...

Playing silly games with cousins in the morning without even having to brush your teeth....

Playing gully cricket with a very patient, indulgent much-older cousin anna holding a bat that is bigger than me.

For amma, Chennai meant shopping. Her own personal shopper in the form of appa's cousin, a self-confessed shopaholic who is recognised by her face and is called personally by the proprietors themselves whenever fresh stocks are in.

Chennai means pattu mamis and jasmine flowers and Saravana Bhavan. It means jostling crowds at Ranganathan Street and brightly lit stores at Panagal Park. It means the beautiful, ancient temples of Mylapore and Triplicane. It means little girls running around in pattu pavadais. It means sun rising at the crack of dawns and mamis from every household drawing HUGE rangolis in front of their homes. It means warm, balmy evenings in Besant nagar beach while you sit looking at the endless sea munching on hot corn. It means posh hotels and Kaiyendhi bhavans. It means the ultra hip generation and the kacheri going ultra-traditional youngsters.

Chennai means loads and loads of family and extended family milling around the house all day.

And finally as we pulled into the parking lot of our Bangalore apartment, it meant throwing a king-sized tantrum with a full war-cry of 'Chennai polam!'. 'I want go Chennai.'

So do I, baby. So do I.

Off to Chennai

2008-06-12T01:39:00.000-07:00

Off to Chennai tomorrow afternoon for 4 days to visit the in-laws. Will be back on Tuesday night. I am looking forward to no cooking, lots of relatives, loads of kids and mountains of shopping. In small doses, they are all welcome...

By the way, did you know that Chennai is my favorite shopping destination?

Battle of wills!

2008-06-10T01:35:00.000-07:00

I made the mistake of going to kuttan's school cum daycare on Friday to pick him up. As kuttan saw me he came rushing towards me with great anticipation. I had had a long day and a longer week and was quite looking forward to lazing around on the weekend.

Just as kuttan and I started to leave, his teacher stopped me. Does he know how to write BM, she asked me. Gulp! The moment I was dreading and anticipating had arrived. No, I told her timidly. 'Well, I just thought I would get him started slowly, if that's ok with you', she told me. Well, how could I say it was not?

So gathering the last vestiges of my energy, I came out with great gusto, 'Of course! I was planning to do it myself but just thought it'll be better if you go first!'. 'He has already started writing number 1. We wrote a page of it today', she told me.

And then proceeded to show me the square math note book and the four-line english note-book where I was supposed to start with 'simple things' like numeric one and standing lines and sleeping lines. 'Are you going to give him homework', asked I, visions of my Sister-In-law chasing hubby's nephew with a notebook and a pencil and being repeatedly called by the school because the child simply refused to write flashing before my eyes.

Well, let's start off slow, she said. I cheered mentally. Just have him complete 1 page of homework over the weekend, if you can. ONE PAGE!! 'Well, its completely voluntary and you need to do it only if you are interested', she offered helpfully. And then pointed out the heaps of notebooks submitted by all the other parents. Voluntary, my foot!

So we went home and I gave kuttan this HUGE build up about how much fun it is going to be and so on and so forth. The notebooks and the pencil and the rubber and the sharpener were purchased in short order and looked upon with great anticipation by His Highness. After placing them in front of ummachi(God), and looking into His eyes and saying, 'Ummachi, let me study well, ok?', we were ready to go.

We sat down on the floor and carefully grasped the pencil. I gently held his hand and made him write inside the square. 'There you go. Great job!', I told him. 'Now just repeat this for a page and we're done'. This is not as bad as I expected, I told myself. Maybe it's only the SIL kid who is averse to writing. And it did seem that way when kuttan filled an entire page neatly with 1s.

Come Monday. We learnt standing lines today amma, he told me cheerfully in the car. Great. Let's practice, I told him. We went home and the snacks and other essentials were dealt with. 'Shall we start?', I asked him. 'No amma, I want to drive the car', he said. 'Do your homework and then go out to play.'

Time stopped still. I had just crossed another milestone as a parent and had joined millions of hapless mothers as they said the exact same words to their kids across the country, probably across the world just by speaking that one sentence. Fat moms, thin moms, young moms, old moms all saying the same words in many different tongues. There were probably thousands of them saying it that very minute. How many irritating times had I heard my own mother say them? Sometimes threatening, sometimes cajoling, always persuading, bargaining. Life has indeed come a full circle.

Kuttan gave me a scorching glare but settled down to write nevertheless. Today our mission was to write a page full of standing lines. He wrote approximately three-fourth. Of the line, not the page. 'I'm bored, I have finished my homework. I am going to drive my car.' Quietly kept the pencil down and crossed his arms and glared at me. I glared back. Hubby intervened. 'Let him go, you dont want to put him off homework forever, do you? I'll get him to do it later.'

The page still remains blank and I am sure we will have another page to finish today. This battle of wills has just begun. I am looking forward to, oh not much, just about another eighteen odd years of it.

Torn!

2008-06-04T22:26:00.000-07:00

I am tired. The last 2 weeks have been crazy. In many, many ways and on many, many levels. Kuttan came back from Coimbatore after a two week vacation with his Sachumma and Gopa thatha. He has had his annual vacation while I am still waiting for mine. Before kuttan went away, I had resolved to finish a lot of things that are pending on the work front. With him safely away at grandma's place, I could afford to stay back as late as possible in the office.

But in the 2 weeks that he was actually in Cbe, I had absolutely NO work. I spent the whole day reading blogs and surfing the net and watching the clock to see when I could get out of the darned office. Only to go home and find hubby vacantly staring at the TV. I would plonk next to him and start doing the same thing myself.

Then, the day after kuttan arrived, all hell broke loose. Everything that could go wrong at work did and we were suddenly transformed from being compeletely jobless to being BURIED under mountains of work. Amma was here for 3 days before she left to go back to Cbe. I spent maybe an hour with her on all 3 days put together. And felt abjectly miserable when she left.

Weekend came and brought no respite with it as hubby had to go away to his MBA classes. And then, amidst all the chaos, yesterday, I decided to take the afternoon off from work and go to a dear friend's housewarming ceremony. I took kuttan along in the afternoon and came back home after the function. As kuttan and I snuggled, I felt so much at peace with the world in general.

All the frenzy and stress and drama seemed a long, long way off. Like they belonged to a different world. Then, after almost a year and a half, I wished I could stay at home and be there for my son always. Be there for him when he comes back from school and feed him lunch. Be there to snuggle him as he takes his afternoon nap instead of allowing him to go off for his nap in his daycare on a small little cot with 30 other children. I know that some of the kids talk sometimes and when they do, the teachers there warn them and tell them not to talk. But my kuttan is such a light sleeper that even such a small exchange is bound to wake him up and he comes home in the evening, looking tired and cranky.

I wish I did not have to go around asking 3 different people in his daycare about the food he ate through the day and whether he pooped or pissed. Should'nt I be the one who knows these things better than anyone else? I wish I could spend lazy mornings with him without worrying about work or having to check the email.

The problem is that as far as jobs go, mine is not bad at all. My boss is friendly and understanding and allows me to work from home in emergencies. The hours are decent and the pay is good. And God knows we need the money. I have worked very, very hard to get to this stage and it has not been easy.

But, as I said, I am tired. Tired of juggling many different roles. Tired of all the expectations from all quarters. Tired of the constant feeling of guilt weighing me down. Tired of my own ambitions even. And there are days when I just want to ask the whole world to go to hell and just play the one role that is closest to my heart - that of being my son's mother. One of these days, I just might do that. Till then, the great juggling act continues.

Fleeting Kodak moments..

2008-06-02T03:06:00.000-07:00

I have been insanely busy at work over the last two weeks and have not had time to respond to many of your comments. First of all, I apologise for that. I also see that a couple of people have tagged me. Rest assured, I will get to that after the current crisis at the workplace has been fended off. In the meantime, just wanted to do a small post.

The husband has started his MBA program and was away all weekend for the orientation course. That left me and kuttan at home to fend for ourselves. It has been a long, long time since I spent any length of time alone with Kuttan. This weekend was an eye-opener for me and I was amazed at the incredible human being this little man of mine has become.

Mom and son had the most amazing time over the weekend. On Sunday morning, we both sat on the sun-soaked verandah of our apartment and looked up at the trees and watched the birds flying in and out of branches. We spoke about important stuff like where birds sleep and why kuttan cannot sleep on the tree with the baby crows in their nests. I just love the fact that my kuttan, my baby is such a little trooper.

Whether it is giving his expert comment on mama trying on new capris in Forum (kevalama irukku It sucks!!) or sharing gyan while driving, he is such a sport and I love that about him. He was an adorable baby and then the terrible twos happened and I was floundering out of my depth. Now, I see that sunny personality coming back and am falling in love all over again.

The best moment, however, came on Saturday afternoon. I took him into our room for the nap and closed the drapes and lay next to him. While he was going to sleep, I lay next to him with a book. Then, suddenly, this sweet smell of wet earth touched my nostrils and the room became noticeably colder.

I looked down to see Kuttan looking at me. I closed the book and huddled under his quilt. Both of us lay there like that for sometime, hugging, giggling and cuddling. Basking in the warmth while he was laying sloppy, wet kisses all over my face. I want to remember the afternoon for ever. Put it in a little box and keep it with me always, to remember and cherish, while this baby of mine grows up and goes out into the big, big world.

Confessions of an ex-MLM agent - The Inside story!!

2008-05-20T22:51:00.000-07:00

Ok, I can see people shaking in dread and preparing to navigate away, before they notice the 'ex' tag and settle down warily to read what this is all about.

Warning: This is a long post!

How we got In

The year was 2000. The husband who was not yet the husband then, was working in Bangalore, one of the thousands of young software professionals who start their careers in the big, faceless corporates every year. He was staying with college friends all of who left one after other for on-site assignments, job change or because they got married. The man was young and bored. And lonely.

Then, one day he gets introduced to a guy, a successful s/w professional who lives in the US with his wife, also a s/w professional by a friend. I have come to expand my business, the man says. I am looking for sharp, young people to diversify with. Come over and we will discuss. The husband, who is tired of frequenting the pubs and the bars of Bangalore and is just craving to meet some nice people, goes willingly.

He is enchanted. He finds a room full of people, young and energetic. People who are very, very succesful in their respective professions. The whole place is filled with fun and laughter and energy. People are extremely warm and welcoming. When the time for the meeting comes, people move into a room while the host shows them 'the plan'. The name of the company comes right in the end..and even then does not mean much to the husband as it is fairly new in India and not many people have heard of it.

He finds the products expensive - ridiculously so...a bottle of detergent costs close to 400 bucks. But even before the thought has fully formed in his mind, it is scorched away by the host. All the products are concentrated and will work out cheaper than the market products if you use them the way they are meant to be. And they are such WONDERFUL products, he says. And thus, the first bit of mental programming happens. This is what the husband would repeat, over and over again, during the course of the next 5 years when confronted with the high-price accusation.

The middle years

The year 2002. Marriage. Enter yours truly. Moved to Bangalore with stars in her eyes and dreams of a new life in her heart. And, to give credit to the man, he has not disappointed.:D. But I digress. My first introduction to the 'business' as this travesty is called was at a 'seminar'. A rally is a place where a highly 'succesful' person in the business will come and share his story with the more unfortunate individuals who were not yet succesful in the business and still struggling.

I found the whole setting larger-than-life. Men wearing dapper suits. Women in glitzy jewelry and lovely clothes. The 'achievers' walked on stage to the music of 'Rocky', waving their hands and feeling no less than movie stars. I was a young bride. Straight out of college and eager to please. Over-protected and from a small town. I took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

And so I sat at home for the first 6 months after marriage trying to do 'business'. 'You'll never have to work', my uplines(people who introduced us into the business), told me. 'You'll be a millionaire and will travel around the world and be treated like a queen'. 'Yes, yes', I told myself as I tried desperately to sell products to anyone remotely human that I came across.

But right from the word go, things did not work out between me and the upline lady. I remember the first ever time we went to their house and she told me, 'You have to be more submissive'!! What the fuck?? I was contributing to her business by buying 4k worth of useless products and I had to be submissive to her? That was the first time I had a fight with the husband.

Soon, the fights became regular features. I started working and suddenly time was at a premium. I would be expected to put in a hard day at work, go to the uplines' house at 7 pm for a meeting every week and stay on till 11. Or 11.30. Or 12.00. And then be accused that I am not spending enough time with the 'team'. Every friday night would end in tears and a fight.

The beginning of disillusionment

Looking back at it today, there are so many, so many things about the business that I positively abhorred. The total lack of freedom in your personal life. Whether it was buying a car or having a baby, we had to get 'permission' from the uplines for EVERYTHING. The total lack of personal time. We would have 3 meetings every week. And then we would be asked to go forth and spread the word of the business lord during all the remaining days. The expense. Whether we liked it or not, wanted to or not, we had to buy products worth 4k every month. The lack of personal choice. I could not buy my favorite toothpaste or my favorite cream from the local store. All products HAD to be from the business. We were even encouraged not to watch television and, in fact, did not have TV at home for the first 3 years of marriage. Now I am totally against TV anyways, but I am so totally pro-choice today that I am appalled I ever went with that.

The fights increased. In intensity and volume. I was horrified that this gentle, totally rational man I was married to, was, for the first time, refusing to see reason. He was refusing to quit. I did not know it then, but he was exhibiting all the classic signs of a person in a cult. Even though he was doing well at work, he had begun to identify himself in this business so much, that a life in the 'outside world' with 'negative people' must have sounded terrifying to him. Our parents were both foaming at the mouths at the 'devil' that had gotten into us. My career was in tatters.

The redemption

The redemption came in 2004 when I decided enough was enough and we needed to have a baby, pronto. By that time, our success was too little and too far between and, I think, the hubby had realised that it will not work out. But even then, he was reluctant to shed the last vestiges of bondage and walk toward freedom till Kuttan's birth. Kuttan brought with him not only laughter and joy for us, but also freedom, in a way. It has been 3 years since we quit. And I thank the Lord every day. For kuttan and for the wisdom that made us do it.

If someone asked me what I regret the most about my MLM years I would say, the lost opportunity. I got married as soon as I finished college. The husband was barely out of college himself. We had 3 golden years between our marriage and the time kuttan was born, that we could have used to spread our wings and soar in the sky. Careless and fearless. There was a wealth of opportunity that we could have explored and did not. We could have travelled. We could have studied. We could have made real friends. We could have spent long hours at work and advanced our careers. Instead, we let our wings be clipped and closed our hearts to the worTld. And that is why I will never, ever be able to forgive 'the business'. And why, to some extent, I resent the husband to this day.

Well, as they say, all's well that ends well. Our 'uplines' zealously followed up with us for a few days and tried to get us to come back into the fold. When it didnt work out, they gave up and moved to greener pastures. And yes, it's a little late in the day but today we are doing things that we should have, would have, had it not been for the business. So we do it a little slowly, dragging around kuttan everywhere with us. But we will still get there. And be happy while we do. The nightmare is finally over.

Disclaimer: This has been a cathartic post for me. It has not been easy to write it but I have, nonetheless, because, well, if it helps someone, why not. It is all about MY experience and perception alone and probably someone else may have a very different take on it. If I have hurt someone's feelings, I did not mean to. Each to his own.

Jab We Met...

2008-05-19T04:07:00.000-07:00

...it rained conversation!!

What started as an idea in someone's mind just gained momentum till 8 bloggers from Bangalore and one from Mumbai who happened to be in town decided to meet on 16th. The venue was decided as Aargees home. Most of us decided to take the afternoon off.

I felt like a schoolkid being let out of school as I joined JLT outside her office and drove carefully behind her car as she led the way to Aargee's place. Had a brief stopover and picked up Abha and we were off.

We landed at Aargee's place and Poppins, COS, Swati and Compulsive Dreamer were already there. I was totally bowled over by what a gracious hostess Aargee was and how beautifully she managed to maintain her home inspite of having a toddler at home, full time.

As soon as we met, it was excited chatter and conversation flying all over the place with much laughter. Little Kiddo(Aargee's son) seemed to have a lot of fun with so many people around and made sure he broke all rules which he will not be allowed to break otherwise. :D. The gorgeous and very glamorous Kiran arrived later, after having been taken on a city tour by a kind taxi-driver and having been charged thrice the regular price for it!!

I will let you read about the individual impressions of the bloggers here, as beautifully summarised by Poppins.

What struck me was how a group of women of all shapes and sizes (well, all of them were gorgeous! I just added the extra dimension!), different professions and backgrounds all came together so beautifully and had such a riot!!

There was not even a moment of awakward silence as we went yapping away to glory. Every topic from work to relationships to child-rearing to labour was discussed thread-bare and without fear of offending or treading on the other's toes. I only hope we have not put off the only non-mommy blogger Compulsive Dreamer from mommyhood, with all our talk of labor and C-Sections and what not. But she seemed to take it in her stride rather well...

When we finally left at 4, I went back all the way home with a beatific smile on my face which left the husband mightily puzzled!!

It's been 6 years since I finished college and for the first time in that many years, I had the same, carefree, girlie-chatter fun that I used to have so long ago!!

Here's to more blogger meets!!

I can't wait for the next time!!

Introducing GOD

2008-05-14T23:29:00.001-07:00

We had a houseful of guests last week comprising of the Sister-in-law, her husband and two children. The SIL's husband is a deeply religious, devout man who places a lot of importance on the rituals. And so we had him doing sandhyavandhanam thrice a day and it seemed to me that that is all he was doing while he was here.

He was doing it when I left for work, I caught him doing the madhyayanam (or whatever they call it) when I went home in the afternoon for lunch and he was at it again when I went back home in the evening.

You might say Kuttan is brought up in a pretty neutral atmosphere and was highly amused and kept going and asking him, 'athimber, what are you doing?'. And giggling away like it was nobody's business.

All this made me wonder how I had come to form my own religious and spiritual principles in life. I remember learning from Amma very early on that God could punish you if you did something wrong. If you dont eat, swami will poke your eyes at night, she'd say...as though God has nothing better to do than going around poking eyes.

Amma is a deeply religious woman who places much importance on the symbols and the way of life that come with being a brahmin. This has meant that she has'nt missed a single Karadaiyan Nombu, a single Thiruvadirai and a Karthigai. Appa is not very religious and I have seen him remove his poonal on occasions when it got too dirty and then forgetting to wear it again. But, I have seen both amma and appa unfailingly and devotedly follow one tradition for that last 3 decades.

Every morning amma would wake up, brush her teeth, go to the Puja room and light the lamp and do a namaskaram. Appa would not come near the puja room then but later, would take a shower and come and stand in front of the Puja room and smear Vibuthi on his forehead before walking off.

Amma and appa have never had philosophical or religious discussions with me. If they did, I certainly do not remember it. All the stories I know about Rama, Krishna etc. have come from Amar Chithra Katha. And there used to be grandpa who used to spend long hours telling me how great and massive and bottomless our upanishads and vedas really are.

Hubby on the other hand was brought up in a much more orthodox atmosphere. My MIL has a HUGE database of purana stories in her repertoire and she is a very, very good story teller. Children of all ages and sizes and shapes congregate in the IL household to listen to her stories. The FIL is very closely involved in the board of committee of a local temple and is constantly going there. My hubby can rattle of each plot and sub plot of Mahabharatha in his sleep.

And still, despite all this, what amazes me is that neither of us are particularly religious people. He claims he knows the slokams for Sandhyavandhanam and I have seen him chanting the Vishnu Sahasranamam on cue when the tape is on. But for all the 11 years I have known him and 6 years I have been married to him, I have seen him to be the kind of man who rummages frantically in the cupboard for the 'poonal' or Sacred Thread and wearing it only when his parents are around.

We are both deeply spiritual people and strongly believe in the existence of a Higher Being and His plans for us. Still, we did not have a religious routine, if you can call it, at home. I light the lamps on most days but if I reach home late, I let it go. And if we go out in the evening, I dont do it at all. I forgot the Karadayan Nombu thing this year and compromised with a Naivedhyam of bananas instead of the adai and lied to amma and MIL that I had done it. (I also lied to my MIL and told her I had worn the nine yards saree and fallen at my husband's feet and gotten his blessings, but that's a story for another post..)

Hubby and I believe that the only thing that matters is doing good where you can and never, ever intentionally harming others is the closest you can come to God in this day and age. However, like I'm fond of saying, having a child changes everything. I am now increasingly beginning to understand that our spiritual maturity did not come overnight. I believe that our parents took us through a system of stories and religious functions and rituals to lead us and teach us these very values.In doing so, they have hammered into us values so strong that the rituals cease to matter and you still go on living by the values.

And that is why I believe that it is important that we establish some kind of spiritual routine in kuttan's life. Like getting up in the morning and doing a namaskaram.

What started off as a daily ritual has now become a personal relationship. So the other day I found him sitting in the puja room and talking to God. And he ended his conversation with, 'I'm going now. Will be back later, ok?'. And I was glad he had found a friend for life. A friend who, no matter where he is and what he's doing, is always watching out for him.

Flawed Idols?

2008-05-14T01:03:00.000-07:00

A lot has been said in the print and TV media about the face off between Amitabh Bachan and the Health minister Anbumani Ramadoss.

Amitabh Bachan apparently lashed out at the minister for asking actors to not act in scenes portraying actors drinking or smoking. 'Ask your goverment servants to stop drinking before you ask us'. he is supposed to have told the minister.

Now let me make it very clear at the outset that I do not have a lot of respect for politicians. However, on this instance, I beg to differ with Mr.Bachan, however sacrilegious the rest of the nation might think it. Alcohol and smoking are bad for everyone, period. It does not matter whether one is a government servant or a matinee idol. However, what one has to take in mind is the effect that a 'star' drinking on the scene will have versus some pot-bellied government servant drinking away in the privacy of his own home.

If the said government servant is a certified alcoholic, will his family suffer? Of course it will. But what happens when millions of impressionable young minds when they see their demi gods drinking on screen and making it look as though its the coolest thing to do and not drinking is only for frumps?

There has been a report that the average drinking age has come down from 29 to 19 in the last decade. And it further hints that it may drop to as young as 15. The idea horrifies me.

Now some people may be wondering why suddenly a harmless mommy blog has morphed into this preachy, issue-discussing kind of place. Well, I will be the first one to admit that mine is a small world. I do not hob-nob with the biggies and the decisions I take impact no further than my front door. However, my concern for this issue started because I read this and wondered if our idols have even an inkling of the kind of impact that they have on people and the responsibility that should come with it.

I wish that I need'nt allow my world to be infringed by film stars but I cannot help it. The hubby and I both enjoy watching movies though we hardly watch television. Kuttan has obviously inherited the love of movies from us. It is very difficult for me to explain to a 3 year old what 'juice' uncle is drinking. My dad smokes and it hardly causes a ripple in my son's mind. However, if Shahrukh does it, it is watched with rapt attention and stored away somewhere in the depths of his young, impressionable mind.

All I ask for is a little social responsibility from the 'superstars'.After all, there are'nt too many movies they can make in a cancer-stricken nation now, can they?

Are we nuts??

2008-05-12T04:12:00.000-07:00

Two full-time jobs. A very active pre-schooler. A home. Sounds like a full life? Well, obviously the husband did'nt think so and has gone and enrolled himself for a part-time MBA in one of the most, hallowed management institutes in the country.

For the next two and a half years of our lives, bye- bye vacations. No Friday late-night movies. No Saturday morning lie-ins. No lazy brunches on Saturdays. No sending away the father-son duo on a purported bonding session(wink, wink) while I slouch around looking bleary-eyed and dumb. God help me...pray for me people!!

As for you, dear husband, congratulations!! Kuttan and I are very proud of you. I know you will handle this with the same cheerful irreverence and ease that you have handled every other challenge you met with..calm and composed on the outside, with a razor-sharp focus that I would kill to have and fools most people into thinking you're not serious on the inside.

Classes begin in June....Here's to new beginnings..

A letter to mom

2008-05-07T22:34:00.001-07:00

Dear amma

You have been living with me in Bangalore for the last month. A month filled with the warm, fuzzy, comfortable and secure feeling that I always get when you are around. For me it has been a month where I have conveniently been able to forget everything I learnt about cooking from your able self. It has meant forgetting the way to the kitchen, except to come to chat with you, perched next to the stove while you cooked one dish after the other for kuttan, hubby and myself. I thank you for that.

It has also meant that I have had some worry free and mainly guilt-free hours at work while I knew that kuttan was basking in all the attention and food showered on him by you and dad. It has meant some gossip sessions lying next to you in the bed while you were reading, talking to you endlessly about people in the family and getting to know, all over again, how witty, wise and accurate your perceptions are. It has meant that, for a month, I have been given the luxury of being something I am not...of knowing the carefree feeling of a child again, a feeling that I get only when you are around. I thank you for all that.

But, amma, for a person who judges and understands human beings so accurately, I do believe that your peceptions are skewed many times. I also know that you will never, ever admit it. But what really bothers me is that you apply the same skewed perception to me, your own daughter!

I know you belong to the old school of thought. I know you still think that the way to a man's heart is thorugh his stomach. I know you think small children should stay home with their mothers and learn the ways of the world through their mother's words. I know all this amma, because this is the way your brought me up. Because I have seen you waking up at 5 in the morning to pack breakfast for me, as I left for an early morning tution, even though there was a perfectly good canteen I could and would have loved to eat from.

Because, you have unfailingly made appa's favorite snacks for him day after day, year after year for the last 33 years. And still continue to make an extra chutney for him, unfailingly devoted. Even if you are sick and tired. Even if you really dont feel like it. I know you did all this amma because this is your way of showing us how much you love us. And believe me, I do know. And I do appreciate.

But what you dont understand is that your way is not necessarily mine. May not even necessarily be what my husband and son need or expect from me. I, for one, do not believe in making 10 different dishes in a day. I do not believe I need to feed kuttan his breakfast and then rush to get hubby his breakfast and stand over him dutifully while he eats it. I believe he is a grown man perfectly capable of getting his own cereal and pouring milk over it and eating it without my help.

I do not believe that the world will end if kuttan does not eat dinner AND two different servings of fruit EVERY single day. There are days when I dont even HAVE time to buy fruits. My house does not run with the same military discipline that yours does. I do not know when the maid took the last detergent from the store and I dont keep count. But we're ok with it.

Whatever may be said and done amma, I am your daughter and I did learn my values from you. Together, hubby and I have created a life of our own and we are happy with it. Our life is filled with joy, color and conversation. And love. I know I forget to give kuttan his oil massage sometimes but I never, ever forget to read his stories at night. I know I give hubby the same brekfast two days in a row sometimes but I never, ever forget to tell him how much I love him and how perfect I think he is. And they are happy.

The problem lies with me, amma. Even today, as a grown woman who will turn 30 in a year's time, I still hanker after your approval. I still come running to you, the way kuttan does, after making a particularly clever arrangement with his blocks, and I still look up at you with the same adoration hoping you will say something nice.

Something nice about the way I am managing a child, home and a career. Something nice about how well I am doing at work, about all the appreciation and awards that I get from my workplace. About the determined way in which I clawed my way back into a job and a career after staying home for 2 years inspite of the countless difficulties on the way. About my very big dreams and ambitions for myself and my family. But, somehow, I come to you with childish excitement amma and I always sense your disapproval.

'How long can a woman work after all? Why do you want to do an MBA?', you ask. 'No matter how well you do outside, cooking and keeping a clean home is what will make a man really happy..y do u think B is so unhappy with S even though she is so succesful? Its because she doesnt COOK at home..', you tell me disdainfully.

Now the said B is a serious psycho and given to rage attacks and is almost a split personality. And S will not even be alive today if it hadnt been for her career. And you in your infinite wisdom think some appam and kozhukattai will solve all their problems. At times I laugh at your naivete amma, but at times, it makes me want to pull out my hair and scream...

I just wish you would try to understand me a little better amma. Your only child. And that you would'nt want me to be a mould of yourself. But going forward, if I ever find that you were right, I promise you I will not be too egoistic to admit it to you.

Till then, hubby eats his own cereal and my MBA plans are definitely on.

I love you, amma!!

Your loving Daughter

Little Boys will always grow to be men....

2008-04-28T21:28:00.000-07:00

Scene 1:

Me driving the car while Hubby is in the passenger seat, for once, because he needs to get off first. He gives the word 'backseat driving' a whole new dimension. He is grimly hanging on to the seat and muttering 'Easy, let him pass' or 'Go slow!!' or 'Don't press the clutch ALL the time' totally oblivious to glares from me.

Scene 2:

Me driving and kuttan in the passenger seat. We are getting back from office and daycare respectively. I honk at an irritating auto guy who is driving bang on the middle of the road and refusing to let me pass. 'Amma, DRIVE SLOW!!' shouts kuttan...'Otherwise you'll hit the auto guy, ok?'

WTF????? Out of the mouth of babes.....

The T Monster!

2008-04-24T03:31:00.001-07:00

The last few days have witnessed the slow but sure strangulation of something that is very close to me. Something which I jealously guard and hug very closely to my heart. Something that I gloat to the hubby about. And that is the easy camaraderie and the effortless flow of conversation that I have always been able to maintain with my parents for as far back as I can imagine.

The one thing that I missed most when I married and moved away from my parents was the long gossip/conversation sessions that I used to have with them. I still see myself perched next to the stove as amma cooked, and appa sat on the floor of the kitchen. Just talking. Talking endlessly, about everything and everyone under the sun.

I always believed that my parents had such a rock-solid, strong marriage because they talked to each other. My earliest memories are of waking up from bed and following my parents voices to the kitchen where I would find amma and appa talking and working in happy harmony. There would be nights when there would be HUGE fights and I would cower in fright. But I would always wake up to find them sorting out their issues by really talking..and listening to each other.

When I went to my husband's house for the first time, the one thing that stuck me as most odd was how NOBODY would just sit around and talk at the end of the day. Or at the beginning of it. Or at any other time. People would come in and go out and talk in passing. The place seemed to me to be always in a state of flux and it drove me mad to see people not sitting and having a conversation. When I complained to Hubby about this he always seemed to be mildly amused and tried dismissing it as another quirk of mine. 'Your family discusses things till my ears are literally ringing with all the voices', he'd laugh!!

This time when amma and appa said they were coming and staying with us in Bangalore for a WHOLE month and a half, I knew I had died and gone to heaven in sheer ecstasy. I'll take a couple of days off from work and just laze around the house doing nothing, I told myself, rubbing my hands gleefully.

And so the D-Day arrived and my parents came. I went to work and tore back home early, eager to be held in that warm, comfortable coccoon of good conversation. And saw them watching the television. ALL evening. Its been 2 weeks since they came and so far there has not been a single evening that the television has not blared out those mindless soaps into my living room.

If it's not soaps, its the blasted IPL that appa sits glued on to. Now Hubby and I quietly retire to our rooms in order to be able to have a conversation without shouting above the din made by TV. A habit that I learned from my parents and brought into our marriage has become so important that both of us feel unsettled without those few minutes of quiet conversation. And the tragedy is that I have barely seen my parents have that in this trip. I am heartbroken. The Television monster has struck again. And the darned BCCI has SO much to answer for!!

An explanation and an apology....

2008-04-23T02:35:00.000-07:00

As to why I have been away for more than a month..and what has transpired in the meantime. It has been an interesting month. Asha left as I had already written before and we got used to life without her. It was not easy at first. My fledgling attempts to get back in shape by joining a Yoga class went down the drain as I had to ditch classes in order to cook breakfast and lunch before heading out the door. Life became an endless cycle of home-office-home kind of drudgery which was particularly soul wearying.

Just when hubby, kuttan and I were all seriously in need of a change of scene, my parents came to our rescue. They are now in Bangalore for a month. A month of carefree enjoyment for kuttan, well-cooked, planned, favorite meals for the hubby (with a lil bit of stock market advice thrown in the side by my dad) and that beautiful, comfortable feeling of having the 4 people I love the most under the same roof for me.

Last month also saw kuttan growing up and maturing in so many ways that I wonder at each new development. Despair at some and marvel at others. He was a little slow at speech but has picked up SO well after he started going to this new school of his. And the best part is that he has become completely bilingual, switching effortlessly between Tamil and English as the conversation flows.

Scene at home:

His Majesty his holding court and amma, appa, Sachumma and Gopa thatha(as he calls my parents) are humbly at his service.

Kuttan(Looking at me): What your name?
Me: BM

Kuttan(Looking at Hubby): What your name?
Hubby: Hubby

Kuttan(Looking at my dad): What your name?
Dad: thatha

Kuttan(Looking at my mom): What your name?
(Pauses and shakes his head)
onnodu peru enna?

How does he know my mom doesnt speak English? My mom was most chagrined that her grandson thought she didnt know even THAT much English and answered almost entirely in English. :) And so the summer evenings pass with playful banter and lively chatter with kuttan holding court at the BM household...and that's what we have been upto. What's up with all of you?

A lesson learnt....- Part I

2008-03-18T02:45:00.000-07:00

So kuttan had his annual day on Saturday. The day started as days such as this are wont to start. Hubby was claiming he has a sense of deja vu at the way I was rushing them to the venue. I behaved in exactly the same fashion as I did on his Sports Day. Had butterflies all over and was running around like a chicken with its head cut off shouting instructions to a bewildered kuttan and a mutinous looking hubby.

Let me put it on record here that I HATE being late and am a VERY punctual person. And the invitation explicitly read that we were supposed to be there at 9.45 AM. Now with small children, you cannot always expect things to go along expected lines. So when you tell me 9.45, I'm thinking...hmm...9.30. And considering the Bangalore traffic and the fact that we had to have breakfast at Adyar Anandha Bhavan before we got to the venue, I had the troops marching out the door at 8.45 in the morning. Hubby's protests that the venue was only one kilometre away fell on deaf years and off we went jauntily.

When we arrived at the venue, kuttan's headmistress looked positively horrified to see us so early and shooed us out telling us to come back at 10.00. I mean, does'nt anyone respect time anymore? So there we were, twiddling our thumbs, wondering what to do - a very embarrassed and indignant me, an ironic and resignedly amused hubby and an impatient, bounding ball of excitement in the form of kuttan at 9.30 in the morning. Suddenly inspiration stuck and we decided to go to a park nearby - where all the Saturday morning joggers gave us queer looks trying to understand why 3 people who look dressed in all their finery are sitting on a dew covered park at 9.30 in the morning.

The Crazy 8s

2008-03-12T02:01:00.000-07:00

So kuttan was tagged by Aryan to confess his crazy 8s. So here goes:

8 things I am passionate about:

1. Snatching the phone from amma whenever she is talking to anyone ranging from grandmom to amma's irate client in New Zealand and talking their ear off for about half an hour. Throwing loud tantrums if I dont get the phone.

2.My Ice Age CD

3. Playing with Adarsh and Aarav and rushing out and opening the door if I so much as HEAR them outside.
4. Taking out my books and pretending to read them in a voice loud enough to wake the dead.

5. Music. I LOVE listening to music which ranges from MS' Ganesha Pancharatnam to the latest Shivaji Ballelakka.

6. The lastest song 'Bum Bum Bole' from Taare Zameen Par. I love singing this over and over and over again till amma's and appa's ears threaten to drop off.

7. Playing my baby drums and my toy guitar.

8. Using my water colors to paint the floor, the carpet, the sofa, the maid's ears..just about everything except for the painting book itself.

8 things that drive my mom crazy:

Are you sure I need to stop at 8? I think the number is closer to 80.

1. The way I defy all laws of nature by continuing to insist that I live on air. I mean, literally, going for days on end without food of ANY kind.

2. The way I bang my car all over the place and especially against amma's legs when she is slaving over the stove in the kitchen.

3.The way I HAVE to lay my hands on any piece of paper that comes into the household. It could be anything from a pamphlet to our apartment documents. I need to have them and say 'It's very important' and glower at amma as though she is in danger of tearing them all up at any minute.

4. The way I insist on getting off the potty every 10 secs to flush and then demand to be picked up and made to sit again.

5. The insanely long amount of time I take to chew my food.

6.The way I insist on staying awake till I make sure BOTH my parents are asleep before going to sleep myself. Now I cant trust them to be alone, unsupervised, can I?

7. The way I ask amma a thousand questions and keep on calling for her incessantly when she is doing something else. This really drives her up the wall.

8. She gets really mad if I try to express my creativity. Just the other day both amma and appa threw fits when they came back home and saw the painting I had made....

all over the wall...

Did I tell you we stay in a rented apartment?

8 things I say often:

1. Innikku school vendam (No school today please!)

2. Mammam porum(Enough food!!)

3. Innikku school la amma amma nnu azhudhen.( I cried asking for you in school today.)

4. This is very important. Ok?

5. Amma..amma...amma...incessantly repeated through the day.

6. Po..pesadhe....(Go..dont talk to me..)

7. Appa thittara( appa is scolding)

8. I ya you..roughly translated to ..I love you!!

8 books that I have read

1. Polar Bear, Polar Bear..what do you hear?

2. Good night stories

3. Panchatantra stories by Amar Chitra Katha

4. Good Manners book

5.Men at work book

6. Alphabet book

7. Ramayana

8.Numbers book.

8 songs that I like listening to over and over again:

1. Smart cookie

2. Ballelakka

3. Bum Bum Bole

4. Twinkle Twinkle

5. Ba Ba black sheep

6. ABCD...

7.Ten Little Monkeys

8.Ra Ra...

I tag anyone else who wants to take up this tag

Raising strong children

2008-03-06T01:27:00.000-08:00

I am most horrified to read the newspapers these days. 2 days back, I read that a XI standard student had shot herself in the head because she had not done well in her exams. And 2 days before that, I read that a 4th standard student(seriously!! Can you believe that?) hanged herself because her mother scolded her. What on earth is going on? Why are our youngsters emotionally and spritually so weak that such small lil bumps on their paths makes them go completely over the edge? Who should we blame for this?

Should we blame the media for playing out such ghastly stories over and over again till they are imprinted on the viewers' young, susceptible minds and puts ideas into their heads? Parents for running around in a crazed quest for money and not paying enough attention to the children? Society as a whole, for not creating and nurturing strong enough role models for the children to believe in and look up to?

Actually, I am totally confused. When I was growing up, my mom stayed home all the time and appa was hardly ever home. He used to work on Saturdays. He used to work till 7 in the night on weekdays. And amma, even though she used to be a SAHM, never used to be at my beck and call. She was always busy with something. With a neighbor. In her stitching classes. With the cooking or the cleaning. I used to be left alone many days for stretches of time to amuse myself. But I never resented the fact. And I grew up never wanting for attention. In fact, I still remember the sound thrashing I got when I interrupted my mom when she was talking to a neighbor.

Today, both Hubby and I reach home by 5.30 in the evening and play with kuttan all evening. Weekends are totally dedicated to his highness. And we still feel guilty about not spending enough time with him. When he calls us, we drop everything we are doing and rush to him. And yet I am worried about the kind of teenager and adult that my son will become.

My mom tells me that raising a child was a lot less complicated in her times. You had a child, gave them a good education, taught them good values and protected them till they were old enough to distinguish between the good and the bad. You waited till the values you had given them asserted their place in the children's lives and then you had nothing to worry about.

Back then, the only thing you needed to worry about, if you had a girl was that she would fall in love and marry someone 'outside' the community. If you had a boy, you had no worries till his graduation, after which you worried that he should get placed in a good job. And oh, with boys, you had to make sure that they didnt get into smoking and drinking and other bad habits either. Raise a child without falling into these pitfalls and you were pretty much assured of your place under the sun.

Compare this with the crazed parenting styles of today. Along with choices, I believe our confusion has also increased. Today we have to worry about every decision that we take about our children's lives. Mad Momma has written about her worries on privileged childhood. I do not trivialise her fears. I understand and agree with them. I worry about my son's early schooling too. I worry that he is 3 years old and is still not able to count objects correctly. Sometimes. He gets them right mostly.

I worry that my son is not getting enough to eat. I worry that my son is growing up too aggressive. I worry about all the strangers who my son may meet in school. I worry about who is allowed to touch my son when I am not around. I worry about the lil dry patch of skin in his left cheek. I worry that I am not there for him enough. I worry that he may grow up emotionally scarred just bcos I did not get him that battery operated car which he breaks in a jiffy. I worry that he may grow jaded if I do. I worry that if I do not get him admitted into that perfect school, he will never have a career. I worry that if I do get him into the school, then he may have too much academic pressure and not enough time and space to explore his interests. I worry that I am making him my parenting-style guinea pig. I worry that I am being too staid and not trying different enough things for him.

But on the whole, I think I worry too much. I think, as a generation, we are far less relaxed than our parents used to be. I know that the threats were lesser then. I know those were simpler times. But still, on the whole, I think, if we are more prepared to go with the flow and less ready to take on the blame any time anything goes wrong with our children's lives, then, probably, our children will grow up to be stronger individuals.

This may be an over simplification of the issue. It probably is not that simple. And then again, probably our parents were only pretending to be relaxed while they looked over us with an eagle eye and pulled us up for the smallest transgression. See, I am confused again..and worried!! What if I have gotten it all wrong?

Change...the only constant thing in life...

2008-02-27T22:49:00.000-08:00

I have already talked about my struggles to get back to work and all my false starts before I finally got to this point. I have been working for exactly 1 year and 2 months now. And there is one single reason for this - my trustworthy maid/nanny/helper/mentee..the girl who wears many, many hats - Asha.

I have briefly mentioned her in one of my posts before. Asha came to me at a time when I had already quit 2 jobs because I couldn't get my son into a daycare without him crying as if his heart would break. I had all but given up hopes of ever holding down a job for more than 3 months and was at my wits' end. Then, one day, one of the other cleaners in my apartment brought her.

When she came, she could'nt speak Tamil or Hindi, leave alone English and I could'nt speak Kannada. 'She'll learn..she already understands a lil bit', her aunt marketed to me. Kuttan was not yet 2. 'Let me give her a try', I told her aunt. 'If I dont like her after a week, she'll have to go.' It was agreed that she'd come to my house at 8 in the morning and leave at 6 in the evening and will take care of kuttan and also help me in cleaning the house.

Within a week, I was ready to kick her out. 'She is dumb!!' , I seethed to the husband. She doesnt understand anything I tell her. And kuttan would'nt even allow her to come near him. Bathing, cleaning, feeding , even playing, I needed to be there for everything. What's the point in having her and giving her money for no reason, I asked my husband.

Then, on the last day of her first week, I got an interview call. In the afternoon. I can't go, I decided. Then she told me, 'Akka, you go. I'll play with him.' I decided to give her one last chance and went. I called every five minutes and made sure he was ok. I had left my number with 4 different people in the same apartment so that they could call me in case of an emergency. I came back tearing from an interview to a job I did not get....to find my son playing with great joy and having the time of his life with all other kids in the apartment..and his akka.

From then, Asha has improved great leaps and bounds. From not knowing how to speak a single word in Tamil, she can now fluently communicate and teach kuttan a thing or two in the language. From not knowing how to speak into a telephone, she now carries her own mobile. She has become a great favorite among the children in apartment. She has become an expert in our way of cooking food. From Sambhar to the elusive molgoottal to kuttan's favorite pulav and hubby's favorite bonda, she has mastered it all.

She has slowly risen in status in our household from being a mere help to a nanny to a cook and finally, housekeeper. She has been living with us full time now for over 6 months. She has taken the fact that kuttan is smaller and thinner than the other kids as a personal affront and has spared no efforts in fattening him up, sometimes to the extent that even I get chided for not trying hard enough to feed him.

Everytime she left for her hometown she has driven me up the wall with worry that she will not turn up. Too many times, she has proved my worries to be grounded in fact by not showing up for a day or two. I have screamed and raged at her at different times for not doing things right. She has irritated hubby and me no end by staying back to watch the Friday night movie with us, a ritual for the two of us where no one, not even our parents, are allowed to intrude on. But we took it all in our stride. It seemed a small price to pay in return for the amazing care she gave kuttan. The fact that kuttan, on many days, seeked her out for comfort when I scolded him was proof of the love between the two.

And yesterday, after all the battles and struggles and the triumphs, Asha handed me her notice. 'I am leaving akka', she announced. She is going home, to get married. Hubby, who had already been informed by her earlier in the day, and Asha together did their best to cheer me up. 'We'll manage', hubby told me bracingly. 'Imagine, no more friday night intrusions. Kuttan can finally get used to that lovely school and daycare which moms in our apartment have been oohing and aahing over for a while. And, the best part, no more Monday morning madness waiting for Asha to arrive!!'

Yes, I told him perkily. We'll manage just fine. 16 months back, kuttan could'nt even talk. Now the situation is totally different and daycare is right for him, I agreed. Everything will work out just fine.

And then, in the night, when everyone around me had fallen asleep, I shed silent tears into my pillow. I was not just crying because kuttan will have to let go of a way of life. The age of innocence where he stays home and runs behind Asha is over. Now he will stay outside the home all day and come home with us in the evening...all grown up like. He will talk about his day and we will have no part in it. He will be in surroundings which will, with time, grow familiar to him, but ones which I will have no idea about. The people at the daycare centre told me they teach kids to feed themselves. But all I can see is the countless times Asha runs behind him, plate in hand, coaxing him to eat 'one more vaai'. He will go and sit with the other children and hold his spoon and eat. And somehow, the image makes my heart break.

Yes. I know that a daycare is better for him and I know that it will help him in a lot of ways. And I definitely know that babies who are less than half of kuttan's age do go to daycare centres. But I guess I just need to cling on to that one moment, a moment which slips by all too quickly, before he passes from babydom to boyhood.

Goodbye Asha...You were very much loved and wanted. And you will be sorely missed.

Happy Mother Tongue Day!!

2008-02-20T22:01:00.000-08:00

Today is being celebrated as Mother Tongue day. I have been reading about it in the papers for the last couple of days and it set me thinking. A lot has been said about how important it is for a child to use its own mother tongue. About how all indigenous languages, dialects, accents and flavors are in danger of being wiped out /overshadowed by the more commonly accepted and universal language - English. Some experts agreed and others did'nt. And I was thinking that there is a bit of hypocrisy about the whole thing.

True, educationists the world over have said that the better a child's grasp over his own mother tongue is, the more mastery they will have in learning other languages not their own. And still, despite all this, I find that schools in India stubbornly cling on to English. Hubby and I are both Tamilians and at home, we both speak to kuttan in Tamil. When I put kuttan in school at the age of 2 and a half, he could barely speak 2-3 word sentences. All in Tamil. But he could understand English and I was not too worried. I knew he'd pick up the language soon enough.

During his first PTA, his teacher told me he is a good kid. Bright, cheerful, friendly. But he has to improve his language skills, she said. When I asked her what she meant, she went on to elaborate. He is very comfortable in Tamil. But you should speak to him in English at home so that he can pick up English well too. Why? That's what I send him to school for.

Neither of my parents spoke English at home. In fact, my mom never does and appa, strictly in the deepest official tones. In spite of that, I did quite fine for myself, thank you. Considering that I grew up in Tamilnadu, I had plenty of opportunites to speak and constantly hone my Tamil skills outside my home. But, if I do not speak to my son in Tamil, how will he ever learn the language?

When I was in school, we had a choice of Hindi/Tamil for second language. Considering that my father worked in a bank and would get transferred every 3 years or so, Hindi was a more prudent choice. However amma made sure that I, at least, learnt to read and write Tamil. The basic, elementary education was polished over the years by reading magazines like Ananda Vikatan and Kalki.

When I was growing up, I always thought it was a little uncool to speak in Tamil. I never paid too much attention. Like an object of comfort that you rarely miss till it is gone, it was always there. Only well into my adulthood did I realise how much I had missed.

The rich literature, the poetry, the sheer beauty. The musical cadence of Sundara kandam. The sheer brilliance of Kalki's works. The wondrous works of Kannadasan. The fiery passion of the dravidian writers. The intellect shining through Sujatha's works and how he manages to bring the most difficult and profound scientific concepts to a layman's level. I had missed them all. Tamil is not an easy language to master. I tried reading Kalki's 'Ponniyin Selvan' but have still not managed to complete it. But I did read his compilation of short stories and marvelled over his way with words. A mastery no less, no profound than a Somerset Maugham or an O.Henry.

I despair the fact that I am passing on even less of this great language to my son. True, we have moved to Bangalore and want to integrate. True that I want him to learn Kannada. But is it too much to dream that one day, together, we will be able to explore the richness and beauty of this age-old language, which, after all, is his mother tongue?? Is it too much to expect this child to take on the additional burden of learning one more language which is not a part of his 'syllabus' and which will not affect his marks?

Today, I remember the immortal and hauntingly sweet lines by Kannadasan.

தமிழுக்கும் அமுதென்று பெயர்
இன்பதமிழ் அந்த தமிழ் எங்கள் உயிருக்கும் மேல்...உயிருக்கும் மேல்...

Happy Mother Tongue's day to all of you...

A tale of dreams and desires....and the birth of this blog

2008-02-18T01:18:00.000-08:00

I was quite shy as a young girl. I am an only child but was a part of a much bigger extended family consisting of aunts and uncles and numerous cousins, this shyness used to embarrass my mother on countless occasions. All the while my cousin used to dazzle and charm the guests who used to visit, I would try to fade away inconspicously into the background.

The guests were all suitably impressed with my U.S-return cuz and would gaze at him adoringly and praise him to the skies while Amma would push me to the front, almost forcing them to notice and acknowledge me.

This state of affairs continued for many years with my cousin dearest(called DC henceforth) managing to outperform and outshine me in almost all areas almost all the time. This despite the fact that I always performed well academically and in most other areas, except sports.

All that changed when I was in the 9th standard when a woman(well, a girl actually) called Claire came to the school where both DC and I studied. This English girl was doing her graduation in Literature from Oxford University and had come to India on a student exchange program. For some reason, this girl was spending time with the kids in our school and helping them with grammer, introducing them to literature, stuff like that.

I still vividly remember the day she called all of us and said we're going to have a contest. She gave us 4 words (I do not remember them now) and asked us to write a poem of 4 lines using them. Most of the kids did not have the slightest clue what the words meant and wrote rubbish and gave in those little chits of paper with their names and their 'poem' on them. DC, as usual, swaggered away after giving his, secure in the knowledge that he would, as usual, win. I quietly slipped in mine.

Claire came back in an hour and read the results. Imagine my surprise when DC did'nt figure in the top 3. I did'nt make it, but, hey, neither did he!! I would'nt have to hear endless tales of heroism and praises heaped on his already swollen head at dinner table that night!! Yay, I was happpy!!

And then, after announcing the first 3 prizes, Claire said she has a special prize to give. Because the given words had been used to evoke a haunting quality to the poem. And she called out my name!! She gifted me a sketch pen set which was jealously eyed by the 40 kids sitting around...but best of all was the look on DC's face!! Priceless!!

But for the first time, I realised that I had a talent that was uniquely my own. Where I did'nt have to claw my way to be noticed. Where words would pour out painting whatever image I wanted to paint for the reader...happy, sad, melancholic...

I had decided I would take literature and become a writer. (I thought I NEEDED a degree in literature before I would be allowed to write.) The dream stayed on till my 12th standard when scathing peers and sarcastic parents told me to get my head out of the clouds and get myself into a professional college.

The dream was reborn in college under the encouragement of a boy, a boy who would later go on to become my friend, lover and husband, to whom I first expressed my love the only way I knew how, through words. You write beautifully, he told me. You should try and get published. I wrote some more and some even got published in college and local magazines.

When I came to Bangalore and started working as a software engineer, those dreams were again shelved. When kuttan was born and I sat at home, hubby gently prodded me, in his words "to get off my ass and do what I never can do....write!!"

I wrote a couple of times desultorily and tried to get a few things published but nothing much happened. This was the time I got in touch with C.K.Meena. C.K.Meena is an author and has her own column in Hindu. I have always enjoyed her writing and her straight-from-the-heart, no-nonsense attitude that used to shine through it. I briefly corresponded with her and she was very encouraging and gave me a lot of tips on who to contact and publishers names etc...

In the meantime, life intruded again and I came back to work. However, the dream continued. Someday, I told myself. Someday I will leave this all and will have enough time and will power and the energy it takes to belt out article after article unfazed by rejections. In the meantime, how do I hone my skills? And that's how this blog was born.

Recently, I happened to find Meena on Google chat and, on an impulse, said hello. It had been over a year since we corresponded and I did not expect her to remember this wannabe writer who wanted to get her articles published. To my surprise, she not only remembered me, she also asked me if she could read my blog when I told her what I was doing.

Well...do I want a month of Sundays? Of course I did. This was my favorite columnist and a respected author and journalist who was offering her time and advice. I had only one thing to say to her..'Please dont be kind Meena and give it to me straight..'. In less that 15 minutes, I get an email from her. Excerpts from the email below:

I find it just what a blog site should be. It is heartfelt, honest, chatty, confessional, and descriptive. I found the blog on the rabbit race quite funny! I like the way you are self-deprecating and are fully aware of your obsessiveness and don't take it too seriously (it would be dangerous to do so).
When it comes to dare-I-say Real writing (the kind that gets published as middles, columns, short stories and so on), what one does is to be more conscious of the words one uses, to avoid repetition, to edit and prune, to craft sentences for the best effect, and so on. But I am sure you are aware of it, because the piece you sent me earlier on the dilemma of working or staying at home showed that some care had gone into the writing.
Regards, and all the best.
Meena

Well Thank You Meena!! The dream lives on. And it is like Claire has given me her coveted sketch pens all over again!!

My First Tag!!!

2008-02-12T03:31:00.000-08:00

Yay!!! I celebrate my first tag with his post. Thanks Swati for tagging me inspite of me being new to the blogging world and the length of time that elapses between my posts. :)

The rules of the tag are- 'Link 5 different posts of yours. Tag 5 other people to do it. The 5 posts should be about Family, Friends, Yourself, your love and anything you like!!

Well, for a seasoned person who is very religious about blogging this may seem like a piece of cake. But for a blogger like me whose posts are few and far between, well...let's see what we can do now....

Family- I am a married woman with a 3 year old son. And yet, when someone asks me where my family is, I automatically say - 'Coimbatore' where my parents live. Here is where I write about my parents and how hopelessly dependant I am on them even today.

Friends - Hmmm...nothing on friends yet. Gives me an idea to do one though :)

Me - What could be more self loving than starting a blog and forcing any unsuspecting soul on cyberspace to unwittingly read it. I have written plent about myself. One that I like the most is here.

Love - Ah...the feeling that makes the world go around....and makes a normally violent-when-woken-from-deep-sleep you just glare and quietly go back to sleep when hubby gets calls at 12.30 in the night. I have not written about how we met or too many things about hubby except in passing. But I have written one post where I have tried to tell him everything that he means to me.

Anything you like - Well...this one definitely ought to be it!! I love the way I have written it...hee hee...some one did say this tag was narcissistic...

I tag Moppet's mom, Kodi's mom, Artful dodger and Itchy..one because I have just started reading their blogs and discovered I would like to read more and two because everyone else in the blogging world has already done this tag. :)

Happy Birthday, Darling!!

2008-01-31T02:17:00.001-08:00

Kuttan turns 3 today!! 3 years of fun and joy and pride and tears and fear...but mainly 3 years filled with an intense love, a love so strong that it brings a lump to my throat every time I see him.

A love that makes me rush to his side first thing in the morning when he wakes up rubbing his eyes sleepily. A love that makes me rush maniacally through the streets of Bangalore in the evening to be with him. A love that makes my heart turn cold with fear whenever I hear anything remotely tragic involving kids. And an almost eerie sense of kinship with every other mother. Oh yes, motherhood is certainly an exclusive club!!

Celebrations have begun in a big way, with us already having had one party at his playschool today and having another one over the weekend for the kids at the apartment. I see him enjoying and revelling in all the attention and I wonder as to how this tiny creature who came, quite literally bursting into our lives 3 years ago has turned into such a little man!!

So what has becoming parents meant for me and hubby? Well, I need not even go into the on-the-top changes. Such as the early infancy sleepless nights. Or the struggle with feeding that I have had with him from the time he was just a few months old. Or the fact that usually-travel-and-adventure-loving hubby did'nt take a single trip for two whole years. Or the way I used to drive his paediatrician and myself and hubby nuts over every small perceived developmental delay. Or the nightmarish time we went through during the two earlier times I tried to get back(unsuccessfully) to work.

But wait...I am now beginning to remember the other times...Minutes after he was born and I was shifted to my room, still groggy with the anaesthetic. Hubby and I were left alone by the parents and the family brood along with the brand new baby. And through all the grogginess, I still remember the look on hubby's face as he looked at his son, still remember the tears in his eyes as he looked at the tiny bundle that was a part of us.

All the firsts after that. The first time he rolled over. The first crawl and step. The first day at school. So many moments of joy. Every single day. And I see how the baby has become a little boy today. I see how much he loves people, how good he is with people and I am so proud. I see him charming the socks off strangers and I want to shout to the world..he's mine, he's mine!!

I see him jealously sidling up to my side anytime hubby comes within a foot's radius and I laugh. I see the way he trustingly hugs me and cradles his head on my shoulder while sleeping at night and I melt...

Oh yes...there is a lot more to come...a lot many joys and happiness...probably tempered by a disappointment or two. I just cannot wait!! Parenthood is a blessing..and like all blessings it comes with a whole lot of responsibbilities and trade offs. The main trade off being that you are, for all eternity, prepared to seeing your heart walking outside your body.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!! We love you..You make our lives go around...

Given a chance...

2007-12-14T01:09:00.000-08:00

to live my life all over again, would you do anything different? Is'nt this the kind of facetious question that interviewers ask celebrities all the time? To which the celebrity replies 'Oh! I would'nt change a thing! I just love things the way they are!!' (all the court cases and boyfriend/girlfriend problems not withstanding.)

Some people have kindly delurked and hastened to lift my sagging spirits by leaving a comment or two on my last post. To my surprise, all of them are footloose and fancy free people who seem to be single and loving it. And all of them have said something to the effect that they enjoy my writing. Thanks for that. And have said that through me they are beginning to realise how chaotic/difficult a marriage, career and a kid can be.

So that brings me back to where I started from. I met hubby at the tender age of 18 and was married to him at 22. Given a chance to live my life all over again, would I do things differently?

The answer is a simple but resounding No. I love my life the way it is right now. I love being married and I love being a mother with all the attendant complications that it brings. So for all the single people out there who are trying to decide whether to take the plunge or not, here are

My Top Reasons why someone should get married:

1. If lucky, you will get the best friend that you have ever had in your spouse. The kind of relationship which starts with passion and fireworks and grows and matures through the years like fine wine, till it touches everyone who comes in contact with its warmth.

2. You get an extended family through the marriage. A family that you may love at times and hate at others but who will enrich your life and broaden your horizons (and test the limits of your patience!;-))

3. The family that you create through the marriage, namely, your children. From being mere dreams in your heart, you get to see them take shape and grow into such wonderful human beings. I think the joy of sharing your child's special moments with your spouse has to easily be the best and finest moments of life.

Anyway, the disclaimer to the points above is that the above are true only if you are smart enough or lucky enough to find yourself that perfect guy or gal. I was. And am eternally thankful for that!

Its been a year since....

2007-12-13T00:52:00.000-08:00

I started working again. To the day. Ok, that's not actually true. It's been a year since I am working continuously. Before that, had two false starts and two jobs where I worked for 4 months and 2 months respectively before quitting. But anyway, I have successfully crossed the 1 year milestone today and have nothing but sheer gratitude towards God above for helping me through this. And prayers..for him to help me through the years ahead..hopefully.

See, the thing is, I am a very confused person. When I was growing up and while I was in college, I always wanted to have a career. Then came marriage and then a job and I was floundering along quite helplessly with a home and a job. Add to that a boss straight from hell and I vowed to myself that I will end it all the minute I had myself a baby.

The baby came and I quit my job of 3 years quite happily without a second thought or a backward glance. And settled down to be a happy housewife with a gurgling, chubby child like the ones they show in ads. Neither happened. My attempts at being a housewife were hopeless. My attempts at making my son chubby are something I have already written about here.
Anyway both were disasters. I was edgy and discontent and launched myself on hubby with a ferocity that never failed to stun the poor man, no matter how prepared he was, as soon as he came back from work everyday. Those were the days I realised how impossibly difficult it is to be a housewife and how incredibly great amma was for being such a great one. My respect for SAHMs has gone up tremendously since then.

When kuttan was barely 10 months old, I decided to get back to work and recklessly plunged headlong without thinking of whether I was ready to leave kuttan in a day care or with a maid for a whole day. The result? 4 months of eating amma's and MIL's head into staying with us and quit my job the minute they left because I just COULD'NT bear to leave kuttan in a daycare.

After another couple of false start such as this, I am finally here today. When I look back at those years today, I know I should have done things differently. Oh, but how easy it is to be wise in hindsight! I should have just stayed put at home for the first 2 years of kuttan's life and then ventured to look for a job. That would have given our family(meaning Hubby's parents and mine) and Hubby a lot of peace and happiness. And me, a lot more hair on my head.

But still, I am here now and I cannot help feeling pleased with myself. I am finally doing what I want to do. I am working and I am managing a house and a child. Never mind the fact that I do do it with complete and unashamed dependence on my maid(s). Never mind that hubby pitches in almost(and at times more) as much as me in running the house. Never mind all the times I cry to amma for help and she drops everything and rushes to help me. Never mind that every 2 days my favorite refrain seems to be 'I am going to quit my job.' as though that is the root of all evils. I have made it through an entire year.!!And am touching wood right now and hoping that I will bumble my way thorugh many, many more!!

Postscript: Does anyone read this at all? A few days back, I used to at least get at least like 2 comments or so and its been a long time now since I got any. In need of some serious encouragement people!! Delurkers, if any, please leave a note!

Another first!!

2007-11-28T02:49:00.000-08:00

Having a child brings with it an entire world of firsts..the first time the baby smiles, the first time he sits, the first step. Each of this opens up a world of infinite possibilities and almost boundless joy to the proud parents as they watch, their hearts in their mouths, while their precious one crosses yet another milestone, conquers yet another challenge with blithe ease. This weekend was one such precious capsule of time for us, to be stored away and cherished forever - kuttan's first sports day!!

The preparations had begun almost a month back and we had received invitations with detailed instructions on everything from what the child should wear to what they should have had for breakfast. Since we had gone on vacation for most part of the practice sessions, I was a little apprehensive about how kuttan will fare. I mean, I did'nt want him to embarrass himself by coming in last or anything. (Ok, ok...I did'nt want to be embarrassed if he came in last. I have this hopelessly competitive streak in me, especially when it comes to kuttan against other kids and can't bear for him to be less than the best in anything.)

I can almost hear my hubby saying 'obsessive compulsive moron' and shaking his head but this is my blog and I will write what I want to. Anyway, I am digressing. Coming back to the eve of the big day. I ran around the house and retrieved all pieces of kuttan's outfit as specified in the letter. Had it all laid out and gave a BIG build up to kuttan about how he needs to get up early and how exciting its going to be. Glared at hubby when he asked me, 'You mean for yourself, dont you?'. Bullied the couple of them into bed by 9 in the night despite loud protests from hubby coz I did'nt want to wake up late the next day morning. Spent half the night trying to sleep becoz I was too excited to sleep.

The next day morning dawned, all sunny and crisp. I love mornings like that, you know, all cold and bright. We headed off quite early to the ground where the meeting was supposed to be held. According to the letter, we were supposed to 'go to the ground, hand over the children to the staff and hide ourselves in the stand. Oh, and clap loudly in case we wanted to have a good time.

So anyways, there was us and all the other parents (read bakras and bakris who got dragged out of their beds on a saturday morning) and all the kids got whisked off to a makeshift shed. Kuttan kept peeping from under the shed and making sure we were'nt going anywhere. Some kids clung to their parents and refused to go into the shed. Some went into the shed and cried so hard that the caretakers came and took their parents too.

I sat there half proud and half hoping he would cry so that I could go and be with him too. Finally the MC arrived and the function started. The first event was going to be 'Rabbit race'. A ripple of laughter went through the crowd and everyone waited expectantly.

The MC said 'And the participants are, Arjun Mehra, Angel, kuttan and kiddo4' whose name I dont remember. My heart stopped. What does Rabbit race mean, I asked hubby desperately. Because if it means hopping to the finish line like a bunny its very difficult and kuttan will come last. In the meantime, they called for one parent to come and stand in the finish line so that the child will get inspired to come running fast towards us.

As usual, the shy person that I am, I nudged hubby forward. And there came my baby among a round of cheers and applause, looking so small and vulnerable in that big ground that it almost broke my heart, trying desperately to locate us among the sea of faces.

The crowd waited expectantly to find out what 'Rabbit race' was. I prayed. The whistle blew. And....nothing happened. 1 kid never got off the start line and stayed there crying. The other 3 ran in slow motion, all the while searching for their parents without realising that they are standing right there in the finish line.

I am very proud to say, that of the 3 who ran, kuttan came in second. I did a mental victory jig. Kuttan and hubby came back and I whispered to hubby, 'he came in second, you know'. Hubby looked at me as though I had said something in extremely bad taste..I mean these are all 2 and 3 year olds and who is even looking who came first. And then he leaned over and whispered to me, 'He almost made it to the first. A photo finish.'

Ah!! The parenting pride bug really does not spare anyone does it?

We went home a triumphant lot. Kuttan with his first certificate and a brainvita game that he broke in 10 minutes and Hubby and I with our memories. What a perfect day it was!!

Leavin' on a jet plane

2007-11-21T01:06:00.000-08:00

Except that it is not some guy leaving his lady love. And not on a jet plane either, but on a bus. Amma is returning back to Coimbatore after a short, unexpected visit for a week which was brought on due to Asha's sudden disappearance.

And I know that she needs to go coz appa is sitting there all alone and she has a lot of stuff that she just dropped to come to Bangalore for our help. But I cant help feeling all sad and bereft and lonely about it. In fact, I have always been a home bird. Happiest when I am at home with my nose buried in some book. And I always felt at peace with the word when appa came back from work and all 3 of us were just hanging around the house.

My earliest memories of school are when I was around 5-6 years old. I was studying in a school in Tiruchi. Every morning was a BIG ordeal and appa had to literally peel me away from amma's arms and drive me to school on his trusted green Chetak scooter. And always had to stop at a certain 'Aradhana stores' for bribing me with a wooden scale and a pencil every single day. Why a scale everyday, and a wooden one at that, you might ask. No reason except that I was ridiculously fond of them and appa was a sucker for my tears...still is.

'Don't go', I used to cry clutching at appa's hands as he dropped me off.

Since I did'nt turn into an axe murderer with a wooden scale or anything despite such overindulgence, it figures that I had at one other very firm and strict parent. Mom was never moved by such drama and I always knew I could'nt go too far with her.

Anyway, I digress. I was talking about how I was a home bird. Amma used to come to pick me up from the school in the evenings. And she was never, ever late a single day all her life. In fact, she used to come quite early, while my last period was still going on. And I could look out the classroom and see her standing there. I used to sit in the last bench and hang my head out the door for most of the last period making sure she would'nt leave me and go anywhere.

Fast forward a decade and a half. Me in college. Appa does not have to bribe me with wooden scales to go to college anymore, but its still close. But being all grown up and all, I can calculate exactly how many days I need in the semester not to have attention deficit and make sure I go exactly those many days. And on the days I do go, I expect her to come right upto the gate to wave goodbye. And she'd better be around to open the gate when I get back. I remember throwing mega fits just bcoz in all those years, she probably missed for, like 2 days or so because she was on the phone.(I am not proud of my confessions, but I am determined to get it all out.)

Fast forward another decade or so. I am standing near my hubby in Bangalore and waving my parents goodbye as they go back after helping us setting up our house in Bangalore. Amma is crying and appa looks pretty close to tears himself. I am newly married, excited about starting my life with Hubby, the love of my life for the last 5 years. The whole world looks bright and full of possibilites. 'Leave early so that you can reach by afternoon', I nonchalantly tell them. They drive away, amma sobbing all the way.

Fast forward another 6 months. I have just joined my first job and am clueless but how to run a home and manage a job. Amma stays for a fortnight and gets ready to go. 'Don't go', I cry clutching her hand in the railway station. It was so convenient to have her around. I didnt have to worry about food or the house or anything. She would just take care of all my worries.

Fast forward another 5 years. Today. I have a toddler, a full-time job, a husband and a house and 2 maids to manage. I am still clueless. 'Don't go!' I want to cry clutching her hands like I was 3 years old.

Not only because its convenient to have her around, but because there is no one else I can talk to the way I talk to her. No one else I enjoy shopping so much with. No one else I can share my smallest achievements and my biggest dreams with. No one else who senses my deepest disappointments, even before I sense them myself.

Dont go, I want to cry. But I know she'd better. Because I will become one lazy bum otherwise and because appa really needs her there. Go now..but come back real soon. End of december, maybe?

And Life Goes On....

2007-11-20T00:48:00.000-08:00

Thanks Aargee and Poppins for your support and wishes....And yes, I have good news. She is back...for now.

But now I find myself quite short changed. I have agreed to a lot of her demands and have increased her pay for the third time in the last 6 months. Ah well, as they say, this too shall pass.

In the meantime, I see a strange behaviour change in kuttan. I went back to work when he was 22 months old and its been exactly a year since then. In all this time, he has never ever cried when I left for work and used to look quite content to be left with his nanny.

Sometimes, if he was busy playing with Asha and I tried to interrupt, he'd kick me out of the house saying..nee officekku po(You go to office.) If either of our parents were visiting, he'd give both of us such a cold shoulder that we'd freeze over. And he has stayed with my mom in Coimbatore on many occasions without bothering himself too much over me or hubby.

During times when it was just the 3 of us, he has always attached himself to hubby and left me alone. He has always cried more when hubby left the house to go out and when he did'nt come back early.

So many people have commented on how lucky I am, and how clingy some kids are and how they never let their moms go anywhere, that providence seems to have heard it and decided to balance the scales...against me.

Ever since we have come back from the vacation, I find kuttan clinging to me all the time. Even when amma came last week, he seems quite incapable of settling with her and keeps asking for me, I am told. I call home yesterday and he picks up the phone and begs me to come home 'fast a'.

Now I find all this rather disconcerting. It was easy for me to pretend that I liked my life and my job when kuttan seemed quite happy without me. But to have to wrench myself every morning from his clutching hands...that is more than what I am capable of. I hope this is a phase he is going through because of all the time we spent together during the vacation and I hope this passes soon.

But deep, down inside, I like it. For the first time, my son is showing me he needs me and I like the feeling. Though I hate not being able to fulfill the need to the fullest. Earlier when my friends used to tell me how lucky I am that my son is not clingy and how horribly clingy their own kids are bla bla, I used to exclaim with horror and cluck my tongue in sympathy in all the appropriate places. But deep down I used to feel..'why is'nt kuttan missing me as much? Am I doing something wrong?'

Are'nt women the most perverse creatures ever??

On a less emotional note, I know I have been really lazy about blogging the last few weeks and promise to be more disciplined in the future. Watch this space for more regular blogs.

I am back (sigh)!!

2007-11-16T02:03:00.000-08:00

I am back!!(Sigh..boo hoo)

Instead of the drum rolls and the roaring applause, all I am left with is abject misery!! Why oh why, I hear you asking...was the trip not nice? The trip was terrific. Everything I hoped for and more. Someday I will get out of my deep depression to write about it. However, the events that followed were so calamitous (did I get the spelling right? It's my new word!) in nature that it just sort of overshadowed the whole trip.

What happened, I hear you asking with great concern. We came back on a Sunday morning, all tired but exhilarated from the trip and raring to go after a day of rest. And the I began my vigil for her. She'll be in at 8, I tell myself. No? 9 then. 9 and no sign of her. I start fidgeting.

10 and I start running around the house muttering to myself. There is this window which looks out into the road and I hang on the window bars hoping to catch a glimpse of that much loved figure walking towards our apartment. 1 in the afternoon and I am beside myself with worry and anguish.

Hubby meekly approaches and tries to pacify. 'Dont worry baby, she'll come...', he says. 'What if she does'nt?' I ask heatedly...he has no answers. He retreats. By now I think most of you women, mothers especially would have guessed who I was so eagerly anticipating.

It was my son's caretaker and my most undependable(Is that even a word?) household help-Asha, who, nevertheless has been with us for over a year now and who kuttan has come to love and regard as a part of the family. Now unless she came in there was a very slim chance that both Hubby and I could go out for work the next day. And sure enough, my worst nightmare came true.

Five days later, still no sign of Asha except for a brief interlude where she came to tell me she is quitting and had me almost falling on my knees and begging for mercy and rashly promising to hike her pay yet again..(very soon she will be making as much as me and it won't be necessary or make sense for me to go to work. Yay!!). She agreed on the condition that she would go back home and return only on Sunday.

So here I am, awaiting Sunday with a mixture of anticipation and dread. Will she, won't she? EGADS..what if she does'nt? I am hyperventilating at the very thought. Whoever reads this, spare a little time in your prayers for me, will you? I am too psyched to do anything except wait for Sunday. Will let you know what happened then. In the meantime, please pray!!

Vacation!!!

2007-10-29T22:08:00.000-07:00

Yay!!!

Its finally 30th!! Do you notice how incredibly slowly time passes when you are looking forward to something? I am off on a vacation to Manali and will not be back until the 12th. So Happy Blogging in the meantime people...and Happy Reading!!!

Will have lots of posts when I get back, I promise!!

Bangalore Blues

2007-10-26T01:44:00.000-07:00

Y had left a comment in my last blog about the terrific Bangalore traffic. Now before the Bangalore lovers go after Y with a bludger, let me hasten to add that she had very nice things to say about Bangalore and was merely inquiring about the state of traffic as it is today in Bangalore.

As anyone who has heard anything about Bangalore would know, talking about traffic in Bangalore is as good a conversation filler as talking about the weather in any other part of the world. Everyone cribs about it, everyone hates it but everyone will go out and purchase two cars for the family and think it is beneath them to use public transport.

Y's comment set me thinking about all my favorite traffic peeves that I come across everyday. My office is 3 Kms from my house and I make 3 trips between my house and office. I have been driving in Bangalore for almost 5 years now. Given my background, I think most of you will agree that I have some right to comment on the state of traffic and the general attitude of Bangaloreans on the road. So here they are, my pet peeves:

1. I hate the auto drivers. They are rude and arrogant and do not come anywhere. And when they deign to, they almost always spoil it by not giving the change back when you pay them. Needless to say, most of my auto journeys always end up in unpleasantness. They are my most favorite peeve to date.

2. I do not like the way Bangalore treats its pedestrians. I mean, for heaven's sake, you do not want to drive in the maddening traffic and so you decide to walk. And what happens? You literally are putting yourself in mortal danger by crossing the road. Apparently, the 2 seconds that the car guy has to wait to let me cross the road will cost him his life.

3. The other day, hubby and I were driving and we saw this most horrifying sight. This poor guy who was standing on the edge of the platform suddenly had a swooning fit and fell on the road. A car almost trampled him but thankfully stopped just in time. And NOT ONE motorist stopped to help the poor guy back on to the platform. (In our defence, we were quite far away when this happened and by the time we got there, some pedestrians had helped him.)

4. I completely go nuts at the insane one ways that Bangalore Traffic Police dreams up of. Its like Vadivelu asked in a famous comic track...okkandhu yosippangalo(I think they strive to come up with more and more innovative ways to pain the population more!)

But just when I thought the soul of the commuting Bangalorean is tainted beyond redemption, I noticed certain things over the last few weeks which have given me hope.

* Like the time when a dog stood in line at the Zebra crossing and crossed with great aplomb when it was its turn and everyone stopped for a second to smile.

* Or like the time when a cop stopped the menacing traffic on all four sides to hold a bunch of kids by their hands and help them across the road.

*And today morning, where this maniacal Toyota Innova guy almost pushed me off the road to overtake me, only to stop a few yards later, to let an old woman cross the road.

*Or the calf, which just sat nonchalantly, bang in the middle of Banerghatta Road and the laughing cop who was trying to move it.

So you see guys, there is still a flicker there somewhere. There is hope yet. I think if we all made an effort to stop everytime a child or an aged person is trying to cross the road and just let them, we will make Bangalore a lot less petrifying for them..and in the process, we will learn a wee bit of patience ourselves.

A day in the life of a working mom

2007-10-24T23:08:00.000-07:00

The last couple of days have been absolutely crazy at work!! My prediction about life being crazy after kuttan comes back have come true!! I hate it when I have to sit idle at office the whole day and then just as I am getting ready to go home, some weird issue pops up and I have to stay late to resolve it.

No matter what anyone says, I think it is best for the kids if they have some family staying with them. However, what is best for the kids may not be what is best for the adults and so you end up making compromises and convincing yourself that it is ok for you to work, it may be even good for your son to see you go to work (It helps young males respect women, apparently!Findings of a popular women's magazine, not mine.)

And then on days like this when you are sitting in office at 8 in the night trying to convince some gora saab of some totally inconsequential thing, and your hubby is doing the same from his office, and it is raining cats and dogs, and your son is all alone at home with the maid....that's when you wonder what the hell you are doing with yourself.

You decide to think seriously about taking up an alternate career, may be part-time. You drive through the crazy, maniacal Bangalore traffic and add to the chaos by leaning on the horn all the way home coz you want to reach faster. You go home and do not discipline your child when he is breaking things and throwing tantrums because
a. You are too tired for a confrontations
b. You are already feeling guilty about staying late at work and dont want to spoil everyone's mood by scolding during the little time you have together.

You go to bed edgy and too tired to even talk to your hubby...

You wake up the next morning at the first ring for the alarm, for once. Your son behaves like an angel. He wakes up on time, drinks his milk and eats his breakfast, like a charm! Hubby is in a good mood and the maid is remarkably efficient. You start to work early and find a mail that the issues of last night have been resolved.

You spend the whole surfing the net and blogging and you think..'This is nice!! And they are paying me for this!! Is quitting such a good idea really? After all, there are the EMI payments to think about. And I just got appreciated for the delivery I made last week. I'll surely get a good performance review this year. Maybe I made a hasty decision last night.

You decide to start early and are eagerly waiting for the clock to reach a decent hour at which you can slip out without raising too many eyebrows. And then...5 minutes before that time, you get an email. The subject says ...bug#125472. Priority: High.....

It starts all over again!!

Kuttan is back!!

2007-10-22T02:49:00.000-07:00

My son is back in Bangalore, after vacationing for 3 weeks with my mom and dad. Life is not always easy when you have a full time job, a home and a 2.5 year old to look after. Add to this the issues of managing the domestic help, the nanny and keeping the home fires burning ( 3 hot meals a day on the table is all I mean by that!), and you have a pretty much exhausting 24*7 job. Please note that managing to spend some meaningful time with hubby did'nt even get into the list above. I am talking survival folks, not luxury!!

That was why when my mom offered to take my son to her place in Coimbatore for 3 weeks, hubby and I sorta jumped at the chance to get some time for ourselves. I had the nagging feeling that its not going to be quite as easy as I thought but hubby assured me we had plenty to do. We would enrol ourselves into new classes, I could work late whenever I wanted to without feeling guilty and we could get some quality time for ourselves. Now, I am sure you have no clue what I mean when I say quality time, or, if you do, you are getting it all wrong.

By quality time, I mean the simple pleasure of being able to talk about our mutual financial bankruptcy without being interrupted a dozen different times. When my son is around, a typical conversation goes like this.

Me: Hey, dont we have to pay the LIC premium?
Hubby: Yeah, I...
Son: Where is my ball?
Hubby: Goes off searching for the ball
Me: Go after him, prompting...yeah, what abt the policy?
Hubby: Yeah , you transfer the money...
Son: (shrieking) Play with me, play with me, play with me
Me: (Calling out to the maid) Play with him for sometime, Asha
Me: yeah, so should I transfer the money?
Hubby:(Who is busy by this time watching India getting thrashed again by the Aussies) Huh?
Me: (very softly) My policy?

By this time, my son has had some kind of a fight with his nanny and I go off to referee the two and hubby is left alone in peace to watch that retarded game they call cricket.( Seriously, I have to write one on that!).

So now you know what I mean when I say, quality time. A little bit of uninterrupted silence to bug hubby a little more on the long pending issues. Now after we dropped our son and came back we actually enjoyed the peace and quiet for the first couple of days...hubby enrolled himself in swimming classes, I got to sleep late and still be able to get up and not miss my morning walks , and, the best part, I did'nt have to cook!! Our son was obviously having the time of his life back home, being spoilt rotten by his grandparents. Everything was fine!

Earlier, being able to walk down a mall and browse through the dresses was a long forgotten luxury. I think all moms get a little cross-eyed from trying to keep an eye on their hyper kids running crazily around and eyeing that 'I-must-definitely-have-that' dress on the display. So after the first couple of days, when the house had become too quiet for us, we went to malls. And for some reason, I could'nt find any dresses which were the 'I-can't-take-my-eyes-off-you' kind. And hubby and I would keep talking about how much kuttan enjoyed the escalator and the McD's mascot.

By the end of the 3 weeks, I was just pining for my son to be back with us again, where he belonged. No matter how naughty he is, no matter how topsy-turvy he turns our lives, he gives our lives so much meaning. He gives us a reason to go on. Life is back to its crazy old self. I had to work like a whirlwind to get everything ready and then had to run behind him for 40 minutes trying to feed him breakfast. And then, I had give specific instructions to my son's nanny about what she needs to feed him for lunch and his evening snack. I was rushed and late by the time I was out of the door in the morning. But you know what, I'm Loving It!! Life is right again!!!

Mami, Sundal !!

2007-10-18T23:32:00.000-07:00

Yay, the weekend is finally here!! And I am off to my mother's house for Saraswathi pooja. I will be seeing my son after 3 weeks...can't wait!!

Navarathri is a very important occasion celebrated with a lot of gusto across the country. A lot of people talk about how it is a celebration of the sacred feminine and 'Shakthi', the female side of all things. But for me, navarathri is associated with golu. For the uninitiated, golu is a practice where they arrange dolls in steps in as artistic a manner as possible. Not all families do it. I dont. But my mother started this a long, long time ago and still continues to this day. The story is that when I was 3 years old, I went to someone's house to see their golu and came home and cried that I wanted one too. And she started it. And kept on doing it year after year. Amma started off small, with just 3 steps and kept on accumulating dolls with each passing year and the golu tradition grew and flourished along with me.

I remember, we made a park once, with a lot of grass and sand and little dolls of people and animals. I know that everyone who has ever had the tradition of Golu must have made a park at least once. But my mother did it long before it was in vogue and huge crowds from the neighborhood turned out to see it. I could'nt stop smiling, I was so proud of it!! I still have a photo of me standing on a chair alongside the Golu, clutching my bunny rabbit doll.

Sundal is a very important part of golu. Navaratri, more than anything, is a social occasion. You go to people's places and invite them to come over to your place. And when people come, you give them the usual kumkum and vethalai, pakku and stuff and sundal, which is a navarthri special. When I started learning carnatic music, it became a PAIN to go to these golu affairs. I was going through this shy, anti-social phase and wherever I went, people would tell me, oru pattu padina dhan sundal.(You get sundal only if you sing a song.) Well, some of those mamis' sundal was so bad that I'd shut up and not open my mouth at all. The other mamis made sundal that was to die for. Amma and I would go house to house and collect our booty and bring them all back home where appa would be waiting with all his tastebuds in readiness. And then the analysis would begin...some looked so bad we would'nt even open the covers. And there were others we would fight tooth and nail over.

As I grew up and moved out for college and later to Bangalore after marriage, amma could'nt maintain the scale of the festivity all by herself. Down came the number of steps again, till they became nothing more than just symbolic golus with just one step and a few old dolls. This year, I did not eat any sundal at all. Usually, I make it a point to at least invite a couple of people over but work was so crazy that I could'nt even do that this time. But I did one bright thing. I sent my son over to my mom's place. I could see a spring in my mother's step again this time. She tells me she has a very pretty golu this year again, after all those years. And she tells me my son has had his heart's fill of sundal. As for me, I am going to get my first sundal of this year tomorrow from the mami who makes it best in the whole world - my mother.

What's with being thin?

2007-10-18T02:21:00.000-07:00

No, this is not a post where I would talk about the benefits of being the correct weight or the correct BMI or the correct waist-to-hip ratio or any of the other hundred different ways they seem to have invented to make you understand that you are FAT!! In this post, I am going to talk about...babies.

You know, in the last few years, there has been a lot of focus on child obesity. A lot of things are being said about it, a lot of things are being written about it. And a lot of doctors are warning parents about its ill effects. Unfortunately, this whole 'movement-to-reduce-child-obesity' seems to have COMPLETELY bypassed ALL the people I have ever known. And by that, I mean, right from the woman I buy vegetables from to my own mother. Ok, ok..it also includes me.

The moment I found out I was pregnant, I went into ecstatic dreams of this rounded, chubby, little baby who I could hug and cuddle. Now, where did I get that picture from, you might ask. If you had seen me, you would'nt need to. I am pretty much the adult version of my idea of a dream baby. So, considering that, and considering that hubby was also quite chubby as a baby, and considering the number of ice creams I ate during my pregnancy (I swear they opened a branch of Corner House just for me!), you would think that the least I can expect is a nice, round baby. And with all this build up I have given you, I think you might have guessed what happened next. My son was puny. He weighed just 3 kilos (which I later found out was quite decent by Indian standards). Needless to say, I was crest fallen. Went into desperate measures to fatten the poor guy up.

People did not help. Let me put out a pearl of wisdom into the universe from my blog here...I, or anybody else in the world, do NOT like being told that their baby is ugly. And another thing...all babies are ugly. They are just the most beautiful things alive for their parents!! And that's ALL I heard from all the people(invited and otherwise) who came to see the baby. Oh, how come he's so dark? Why is he so thin? Is he feeding alright? What, the doctor has told you not to give him water? What sort of an idiot doctor is he? Both of you are so fat, how come your child is so thin? Try giving him ragi. Try giving him cerelac. Try giving him that and this and every bit of crap under the sun.

And you know what, fool that I was, I listened to ALL of them. Started ragi when he was just a month old. Started cerelac when he was two. Did EVERY bit of experimentation on him possible. And grew more and more despondent by the day. Why was'nt he growing fat? Look at all the other babies..they look so big and chubby. And look at how scrawny he is. It never occurred to me that my poor baby obligingly put up with all the stuff I tried on him and never fell sick once in protest. Oh no sirree, I had given up my job for this baby. The least I could do was have a socially acceptable 'beautiful, chubby' baby. I obsessed about his weight. I read every book from 'What to expect..' to 'Dr.Spocks'. I was convinced that my baby had a condition called 'Failure to thrive' and made his doctor suggest a bunch of tests( I think he just did to get me off his back). And we put him through a blood test and chest xray and a whole bunch of monstrosity. And he was fine. BUT HE STILL WOULD"NT GET FAT!!

My son is close to 3 years now. He is still small for his age. It took me a long time to realise that he is thin but its ok. He is fine in every other way. I still get pangs of regret when I look at other chubby babies. But I know I am lucky in so many other ways. My point is this....I almost missed enjoying my son's baby months because I was too busy listening to what other people were telling me. No matter what people tell you, don't let them spoil those magical days, gone in the blink of an eye, for you. Your child is the most special, precious, perfect gift God can ever give you. No matter how fat or thin or fair or dark or slow or whatever else people think he is. Enjoy him..and enjoy your life with him.

Me and my world

2007-10-17T03:46:00.000-07:00

Now for a little bit about me and my world. I live and work as a software engineer in Bangalore along with my husband and my 2 and a half year old son. And before anyone asks, no we do not have any immediate family living in Bangalore. Its like women all across Bangalore are linked by an invisible thread running through them. I get and ask the same questions everywhere I go, by and to everyone I meet.

Q: So, are you working?
A:Yes.

Q:You have somebody living with you?
A: No

Q:Oh! Who takes care of the child?
A:I leave him in a daycare/with relatives/with a maid.

And then they launch into a lengthy dialogue about all the good/bad/ugly experiences they have had with that particluar brand of child care. I think all this stems from a genuine desire to reaffirm to yourself that you are doing the right thing for your child. That your child is not going to turn into some dark character or deprived for love because you chose to work. That, given the circumstances, you really have chosen the best way that there is. As for me, I always ask other women these questions because I am hoping that someone has a better solution than I do. Or because I am always hoping that someone will tell me that its ok. I really am doing everything I can and my son will turn out just fine. I am still waiting.

Look...I am blogging!!!

2007-10-16T03:59:00.000-07:00

Hi

The first time I heard of the concept of blogging was in the year 2001. I think it was all the rage and this friend of mine sent me his blog with his name on it and I remember being very impressed. After a few lame attempts at writing, and uploading a few of his favorite songs my friend gave up. I did not follow on the blogging phenomena after that till fairly recently. For the past few months now, I have been reading some VERY well written blogs. And I felt the urge to blog again. Whenever I thought of it before, I always would think ..What would I write about? I mean, my life is so regular. Just like thousands of other people living in the city. But then I realised that that in itself is a reason for me to attempt to reach out to a lot of people like me.

So here it starts. I think for most people like me, trying to balance the needs of a career, home and a child, there must be enough adventures to write about...at least once in a while.:) Hope you enjoy reading.