Something to Say

Soni Arrives

2008-06-18T12:11:00.002-04:00

The much awaited arrival of Soni - happened.

Date: 12th June 2008. Yes, she managed to avoid both the other birthdays - and landed plum in the middle of them.

Time: 5.15am

No of labor hours: 3. From 33 hours the first time to 3 hours, we're sure improving. I woke up at 2am with mind numbing pain, woke up hubby at 3am after trying vainlessly to time the contractions. Reached hospital at 3.45am. She arrived at 5.15am.

Vital Stats: Height - 20"
Weight 8lbs

My Reaction: Somebody give me an epidural - I cant do this.

The mid-wife's reaction: "When I first saw you, I told myself, this woman's not even in labor. When I examined you - you were fully dilated. Mashallah. But what terrible pushing."

Hubby's Reaction: Can we not give her any pain relief??

Sonny's Reaction: Ranges from complete ignoring to 'bye bye baby'. At times it even results in wild kissing.

She looks like: A photocopy of Sonny.

How am I coping: So far so good.

And some fun stuff

2008-06-10T04:18:00.000-04:00

Things began looking up once the in-laws arrived. Being true to my hyper-panicky state, I asked them to arrive here just as my 8th month ended. Now they've been here almost 3 weeks and Soni shows no signs of arriving. The Braxton Hicks contractions are getting more and more severe. But thats where it all ends. I can feel the baby's head on the pelvic floor - but she just wont arrive.

Maybe she's waiting for:
June 11 - which is Sonny's birthdate
OR
June 13 - which is my birthdate
OR
June 15 - which is her grandparents wedding anniv

O yeah we're a total Junie family - except for hubby, of course, who's feeling a lil left out.
Or maybe she wants to circumnavigate these dates and choose a date for herself.

Meanwhile some developments on Sonny's front.
Sponge:
He ought to be nick-named 'sponge'. He hears a statement made once and repeats it verbatim at the next opportune moment. Sometimes with hilarious results. He's learnt 'what're you doing XYZ?'. We were stopped at a police check point, sonny leans out of the window and says 'what're you doing police?'.

Ok-ma-bye-bye:
If sonny finds something unagreeable - which is a hell of a lot these days - he makes his displeasure known forthwith with a 'ok-ma-bye-bye'. And with that he marches off upstairs to the bedroom - to spend some quality time with himself. And one has to go and get him - wont come down on his own.

Abdullah:
Apparently there is a boy in sonny's class by this name. Sonny was asked 'whats your lil sisters name?'. His reply - "Abdulla" and not just once, time and time again. Maybe thats the reason Soni wont come out - she doesnt want to be called Abdulla :)

No:
Me: "Sonny do you want apple juice?"
Sonny: "No"
Me: "Guava? Lemon? Milk?"
Sonny: "No. No. No."
Weary ol me - gives up. 1 min later, Sonny : "I want apple juice"
Me: Tears off hair in frustration.

It rained. And it poured.

2008-06-07T04:55:00.002-04:00

No this post has nothing to do with the unseasonal rains that North India experienced. Or the torrent in my beloved Mumbai.

It has to do with the way life seemed in Riyadh - to me.

I am a strong believer in the motto "this too shall pass". And it got severely tested in the last month.

First came in some personal news that really really rocked my peace of mind.
Then it started blowing dust in Riyadh. SO first I had my month long allergic reaction. Then sonny started coughing. It got worse. We took him to the doctor, who told us to observe it for a while - because she didnt want to rush into an antibiotic course. Finally it developed into a full blown upper respiratory track infection - which required 10 days of antibiotics.

A week later, sonny started crying for no apparent reason. Nothing would soothe him except a ride in the car, during which he would stay absolutely still, without uttering a single word. Which is really, really weird coz sonny loves to point things out and count cars and gas stations and what-have-yous. Or he wanted me to carry him around - ALL THE TIME. At 36 weeks, that was the last thing I could manage. He refused to eat or lie down. With great difficulty he managed to swallow his own saliva. His doctor suspected a middle-ear infection and wanted us to take him to the ER immediately. We've had enough ER experiences to last us a lifetime. So we waited until his regular doc became available (about 20 hours). Turned out he had a bad throat infection. His doc referred us to an ENT - who confirmed that the ears were fine - it was the throat that was horribly screwed up. So then began another round of antibiotics. Which we've just finished yesterday.
And I've sent him to school today. I hope he doesnt come back with something new again.

In all of this, my Braxton Hicks contractions have driven me round the bend - literally and figuratively. The baby has descended, making it difficult for me to move around. Sleep is elusive and eating seems like a chore. My back is screwed up badly, my legs get puffy afternoon onwards and most mornings I cannot bend my fingers. All this is normal - I am told.

The only positive thing that happened was that my in-laws arrived. Ma-in-law has taken over the kitchen (praise the lord!) and sonny seems to have really taken to his grand parents - spending loads of time with them - time during which he doesnt ask for his Ma. To me this seems like good practice, for Soni's arrival.

And so I wait - counting days - when the clouds will part and the sun will shine again.

MTB Tips

2008-05-24T05:05:00.000-04:00

Poppins urges me to my version of handy tips that no MTB can live without. So here goes:

1. Have an elder woman around in the house. Mother, mother-in-law, sister, anyone. It goes a long way in keeping the sanity in the house.

2. Remember these numbers 3 and 6. At 3 days and 6 days, 3 weeks and 6 weeks, 3 months and 6 months, or approx thereabouts your baby will go through a major growth spurt. Which means baby will feed more and longer and will probably sleep more. This phase lasts 2-3 days. Bottle-feeders can just increase the number of bottles but breast feeders remember not to blame yourself if baby seems to demand more. Just keep putting baby to breast - and your supply will increase within 24 hours.

3. A hot shower goes a long way in dealing with rock hard boobies. Especially when the milk comes in - on the third day. Engorged boobies also make it difficult for baby to latch on. Take a hot shower, relieve some pressure manually and then put baby to breast.

4. Most moms and mom-in-laws have to leave after a few months. In the last month - ask her to make additional portions of the food you eat everyday - be it meat or veggies and freeze them in freezer-proof bags (I swear by Glad), put the date so you know the sequence of consumption. After the lovely lady has returned home - you can make just a dal and rice and remove the frozen food one meal at a time. Its a BIG help when you are caring for a lil one with no help.

5. Breast feeding moms remember to drink loads of water - you need additional water to cope with the feeds. Also remember you only need 500 additional calories - not more. This is the time one tends to put on the max weight - in our mindless devotion to ensuring baby gets to eat well.

6. It isint easy sleeping next to a baby. They squirm, yawn, stretch - and generally screw up your sleep - even if they are sleeping. And you really DO need the sleep. In the first part of the night - feed the baby and hand over to hubby, ma, ma-in-law. And go to sleep. Those 3 or 4 hours will be the best sleep you ever have. When the baby awakens for a feed, the baby can be brought to you. You've had your sleep and the night watchman can now get his/hers. Tip courtesy: ma-in-law who did this everyday with sonny and me.

7. If you want to introduce the bottle - wait until the baby is a month old. By then, your feeding/milk coming in would have settled into a pattern. You can start by giving once a week or so - just so that baby gets the hang of the bottle. If you wait until later, the baby would have already made up his/her mind and will reject the bottle.

8. Remember you have 2 ears. One to listen to all the advice you get. And the other to throw it out. As the Marathi saying goes "listen to the world, but do as your heart tells you". Nobody knows your body or your baby better than you.

Good luck!!!
:)

Signs

2008-05-20T16:50:00.002-04:00

I am a big believer in Signs. O well actually not. It just gives me the kicks to interpret things the way its convenient for me ;)

So here are a few of my interpretations:

Sign 1: Sonny knows his shapes
He says "Ma tummy is circle". Sure honey, you got some salt to rub that in with?

Sign 2: We're watching way too much TV
I caught sonny singing "ooo shanti ooo" in the bath last week.

Sign 3: Sonny is developing a taste in pretty women
Today while the "Aakhon mein teri" song from OSO was being played on TV he turned and told me "nice aunty ma".

Sign 4: Looks like we're watching a lot of IPL.
He recognised SRK in the abovementioned song and said "thats Shahrukh Khan".

Sign 5: Looks like Sony/Set Max are getting the Target Audience attention.
Sonny saw a song featuring Salman Khan and told me "Thats Dus Da Dum uncle". Good God, now he even recognises Salman Khan.

Sign 6: Sonny has high self-esteem.
I caught him playing with his blocks. He was asking himself "what color this?" and then replied 'lellow'. Next sentence "good job sonny".

Sign 7: Sonny really has a thing for girls.
Everytime he hears the Vodafone Happy to help song, he runs to the TV and stares non-stop. If we draw attention to him, he is hugely embarrassed and covers his face with his hands.
Same reactions with Paanchvi Pass girl 'Shreya'.

Sign 8: Sonny loves mommy more than daddy.
While we're taking a walk, sonny pulls me onto the sidewalk and says "ma, walk on sidewalk" (no credit for him - we've been drilling this into him for the past 6 months). So hubby says "and what about baba?". Sonny says, "baba walky". So dad you walk where you are - let me just get my mom safe on the sidewalk.

Sign 9: Sonny loves the car the most.
Me: "whats your name?"
Sonny: "sonny"
Me: "Whats your baba's name?"
Sonny: "My car is toyota prado"
He still cant pronounce either my name or hubby's name correctly - but the car's name - he has that mastered.

A Baby's Conversation with God

2008-05-19T15:51:00.000-04:00

A baby asked God, 'They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?' God said, 'Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you.'

The child further inquired, 'But tell me, here in heaven I don't have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy.' God said, 'Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you. And you wil l feel your angel's love and be very happy.'

Again the child asked, 'And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don't know the language?' God said, 'Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak.'
'And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?' God said, 'Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray.'

'Who will protect me?' God said, 'Your angel will defend you even if it means risking its life.'

'But I will always be sad because I will not see you anymore.' God said, 'Your angel will always talk to you about Me and will teach you the way to come back to Me, even though I will always be next to you.'

At that moment there was much peace in Heaven, but voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, 'God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel' s name.'

God said, 'You will simply call her, 'Mom.'

I want patience now!!

2008-05-19T09:39:00.000-04:00

Scene 1:
I go to pick sonny from school. All morning I have been running around getting dinner ready, re-arranging stuff, making place for Soni's stuff,etc. Sonny runs out excitedly, insisting he wants 'schkooi bus'. We watch the kids load up in the bus, sonny waves to them, bus takes off, we walk home. As we enter the gate, he spots his cycle. Now he wants to ride his cycle. I check the temperature outside. Its 40 C. How can anyone want to ride around in this heat?
I say no. He digs his feet into the ground. I stand my ground. I drag him inside. Sonny doesnt like it - he yells loudly, throws his cap onto the floor, bangs his shoes on the floor, I yell. Sonny resorts to banging the door against the stopper, I drag him further indoors. He spots his cars in the basket, he runs to them, picks them up and throws them with full force on the floor, I pretend to ignore and escape to the kitchen. Now he picks up the phone and throws it on the floor. How can I ignore this? I yell harder, threaten to lock him up in the bathroom. More crying from sonny, more yelling from me. No one's listening to anyone - both mother and son are yelling.
In sheer desperation, I turn on the TV- its Teletubbies time. Peace reigns momentarily.

Scene 2:
Sonny and I are out - its evening playtime. Sonny stops and stares at every passing car. C'mon, I urge him on. No reaction. After much dawdling we reach the playarea. Swing, says sonny. After 30 mins on the swing, I ask him, does he want to play on something else. No, he says, swing. Another, 15-20 mins go by. I take him off the swing. Now he's stuck on the fountain. I wait. It's getting late. We need to get home, have dinner and turn in for the night. Sonny doesnt agree. After much cajoling, warning, threatening - I finally haul him off physically. Sonny is yelling and screaming. I am huffing and puffing with the additional 35 pounds I have to carry on me. Mother and son are really mad at each other.

And some more such scenes at lunch, dinner, sleeptime.
Everyday - day after day - for 3 weeks.

Everyday, I promise myself - tomorrow will be different. I will keep my patience, I will not yell, I will not let tantrums get in the way of mother-son relationship. But everyday - its the same. Sleep begins to elude me, hunger subsides. I throw my own tantrums with hubby, who now has 2 crazy people to deal with. So hubby additionally yells at sonny.

I stay up at night wondering what the hell is going on. What happened to my sweet natured, docile, obedient child? Suddenly whats going wrong? Ok so I do have additional pregnancy pains - breathing is difficult since Soni is pushing hard up against my diaphragm, my back is a mess, acidity is giving me additional heartburn, the list is endless. But I am an adult - and I know ways of dealing with stress. And yet something is going terribly wrong.

Since sleep is anyways elusive, I sit down and make a list of the times or places where sonny throws his tantrums. I realise that coming home from school is a huge tantrum zone. I know he is usually hungry and very tired when he gets home. And yet he wants to ride his cycle around. When I do let him ride his cycle - he moves a few paces, then sits down on the cycle and asks me to push him. I assume he's tired and get him home. Again he throws a tantrum and wants to be out again. Its a no win situation for me.
I figure there are a few things i have to do. Firstly, distract him from the cycle. Secondly, get him inside the cool confines of the home and make sure some food goes down his throat pronto. He is his mother's son and cannot handle hunger (and still he wont eat the snacks i send to school - since he's busy playing). And as quickly as possible get him to nap time.

First things first - I let him come home on the school bus. He's majorly excited and I can maneuver him inside the house. I've kept food ready on the table. I hand him his sippy cup with apple juice - which he drains in one shot. I've broken a few self-made rules - juice before food, and now I break the next rule. We turn on Teletubbies and I feed him while he watches TV. Food in tummy - sonny seems to relax a bit. I'm going to break another rule. Food done - I put him in the bath tub - where he can play for a bit - while I gulp down food. He's nodded off to sleep before I've even finished with the first story.
Good show mommy!! Now I can relax a bit.
Some days I change the sequence - I let him wash his hands on his own (and mess up the bathroom) to distract him from wanting to go outside. Some days I turn on the hose pipe and get him dripping wet outside the house. Big risk with that - I could skid and fall. Some days we read the license plates on cars - getting all alphabets and numbers right is a big turn-on for sonny. And we keep experimenting. Mostly it works - sometimes it doesnt.

There are a few changes I need to still make:
1. Eat before Sonny gets home. Coz once he is home - I just run around like a headless chicken. And I cant get a morsel in until he has fallen asleep.
2. Stop using the word 'jaldi' or fast. I have become a slave of the clock. Sonny 'has to' be in bed by 9, we 'have to' eat at 7. Not really - So sonny is lingering in the bath - ok - so he'll sleep late and wake later. Its preschool for Christ's sake - what does he need to learn quantum physics?
3. Control my temper. The poor child the worst of me - already. I am tired - I yell at him. I'm mad at hubby - I yell at him..... the list is endless.
4. Lots more hugs for sonny. This one we're already working on. I try and make up for my madness by hugs for no reason, lots of cuddles and big sloppy kisses which sonny finds really funny.
5. Kick hubby in the rear. Its obvious sonny is stressing me out - when is the big man planning to step in?
6. Play by the ear. If sonny seems tired - there's no need to go to the park in the evening. We can sit and watch TV (yeah yeah we're doing a lot of that lately)

and so on.

And most of all - I need to keep in mind that sonny's life will soon go through a tizzy when Soni gets here. The more settled, relaxed and smooth I can make this transition phase the better it will work for us.

I've already begun seeing results of the changes I've initiated. Tantrums are down 90%. We still have the occasional flare-up - but what the hell. Hubby has taken over sonny's evening outing - both father and son enjoy driving around in the car.
Peace is finally reigning over the household. Sonny seems happy and I am relaxed. Amen.

For M

2008-05-15T17:06:00.002-04:00

This one is for M.

M, my dear friend who will soon be married. Well, soon – as in November. And since I’m not sure how or where I will be post June – I decided to write this down now.

M knew for a while now that this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. But it took a while for things to fall into place, for wheels to be set in motion and for God to put all the pieces into the right places. And she went through many moments of sadness, of utter despair, of questions with no answers, moments when she constantly asked ‘why’ or ’why me’, moments when she decided to put everything behind her and move forward only to be wrenched back. And yet M stood strong. And today when things are going her way, M has her characteristic smile back on her face.

And it is such a pleasure to see M revel in the first flush of love. The way she describes her to-be. Her protectiveness about his kinks. The way she gloats about his achievements. The detail with which she describes some girls checking out ‘my man’ – as she puts in. The giggle with which she relates their first joint purchase. And when I rag her or tease her about buying some kinky stuff – I can almost see her blush.

Which is when it struck me – I’m never going to feel all this again. I’ve been through this – sure, but its gone. Past. Kaput. Finished. I’m never, ever gonna glow in the first blush of love. Never, Ever Again.
When I was last asked to describe hubby, I told the receptionist – look out for a short, stout guy. She later told me – you forgot to mention his cute smile. Guess I did.
My sis-in-law or mom-in-law has to just begin to complain about hubby, and I will gleefully add onto the list of kinks he has. And will accept full sympathy from anyone who wishes to commiserate with me.
When hubby begins to tell me for the nth time how he struggled to get where he is today – all I do is roll my eyes.
When I find some waitress flirting with hubby, I just shrug my shoulders and shake my head and move on.
And I don’t really remember the first thing we purchased together. Or our first fight (Good God – there have been so many – how can a human remember them?). Ok , I do remember the first time we met or the first time he took me out.
And kinky stuff? Who would want to see this beached whale in anything kinky???? And which whale buys kinky stuff for herself?

You see my point? I’m beyond all this. Love has happened and happened long ago. I’m never going to be a giggly newly-wed again. I’m never going to wonder – what the first kiss will be like? The bedroom has long since been associated purely with sleep and sleep alone. And there is a gate-crasher who sleeps between us. We rarely buy things on the impulse. Everything is a well thought of decision. When my eyes seek him out across a crowded room – its merely to gesture ‘could you handle this kid of yours? He’s driving me nuts.’ Its been 3 years since we’ve gone out – just by ourselves. And even when we do – we end up talking about sonny. No more do we have huge fights. Mostly because we don’t wanna scare sonny. So there is no major making up happening.
And this pregnancy – its all been there, done that.

Of course I’m with the man I love. I’ve borne him 2 kids. But life somehow has changed lanes and I’m never gonna get onto that highway again. I’m driving in a service road that says 40kmph and I am looking at all those snazzy cars racing away at 100kmph. And I’m thinking – I used to be that Porsche once. How did I become this Toyota??

And I realize – I have worked towards getting to be this Toyota. It has taken months, weeks, years to getting to this place where life is stable. Where I don’t need to wonder – what hubby’ll think about something. I already know the answer. I know what he will like and what he is bound to dislike. After a point of time, our likes and dislikes have merged – so its easy making the choice. Where the thrill has been replaced by a sense of knowledge. Where the throb is now called a pulse. Where mere physical intimacy alone is not the thing that binds us together. We have a lot lot more that holds us together. Where he just has to say ‘hey you remember when…..’ and he need not complete the sentence, I know what incident he’s referring to. Where love is not the rush I feel when I see him or think about him, it’s the constant hum that stays with me. Where wonder is replaced by knowledge.

And so my dear M – I am putting down my twinge of envy to pregnancy hormones (see I don’t have monthly periods – so preggie hormones are the next best bet to put blame on). And I am hoping and praying that you and AB too – someday will get onto this service road and chug along at 40kmph.

Close your eyes

2008-05-14T03:25:00.003-04:00

Why Do we Close our Eyes?

When we pray
When we kiss someone
When we cry
When we desperately try to remember something/someone

Is it because the best things in life are unseen and best left to the mind to imagine?

P.S.: Is it me or is this the effect of pregnancy hormones???

Sonny School Developments - Month 1

2008-05-09T07:14:00.003-04:00

I just read this somewhere
Pre-school - A place where son plays and father pays.

Very funny, I thought. What do these people know about the gut churning decision school selection is?

After sonny's not so smooth first week at school - we were lucky to have 2 weeks of spring break. I was most relieved to get a break from all the tension.
2 weeks of spring break sped by really fast. Toilet training on an adult pot, waxing eloquent about his teacher and all the babies at school took most of our time.

April 5 was the day school was to re-open.
April 5, 3.30am: Sonny sits up wide awake. Schkooi(school), he says. Not yet, we tell him and try to pat him back to sleep.No luck. He sits awake, plays on our heads, jumps and generally gets yelled at a lot. Finally at 6.30 am he falls asleep again. Now how the hell are we supposed to get him ready for school at 8am? We dont want to wake him up and have a cranky sonny go to school. 8.15am sonny sits up in his bed and starts crying. We grab this opportunity and get him out of bed.

9.15am - Sonny is ready for school. We drop him off. As the teacher takes him into the class, he bursts out crying again. Once again, we turn around and leave the school. Hubby leaves for work, while I take my vigil next to the phone.
10.30 am - No call yet from the school. So I call school. Turns out sonny cried for a few seconds. I tell his teacher about sonny's nightly adventure - she assures me he's showing no signs of fatigue or crankiness. When I pick up sonny a couple of hours later - he runs out happy - and yet so tired.

Day 2, 3, 4 run along fairly uneventfully.I am beginning to enjoy these few hours of silence at home. I can cook, clean and generally get Soni's stuff in order.

Day 5: I am waiting to speak to sonny's teacher. I want to know how sonny's first full week at school has been. The doors open, sonny runs out. I bend to take his bag from him, he dumps his bag on me and....... runs away from me. Into the play area!! As I stare, open mouthed, Z, a fellow-mom, pats me on the back, with a "yes, darling, they can be pretty heartless that way".

Sonny's teacher tells me - he's taking his time but adjusting well. He doesnt speak much, but can understand all instructions. There are no more tears, either when we drop him off or otherwise.

The next week sonny tells me - he wants to come home on the school bus. I may not be ready to cut the umbilical cord just yet, but sonny sure is ready to jump into newer experiences. It also means, I am not required to go to school to pick him up - the bus will drop him just outside the home. Hmmm, maybe, just maybe, the green eyed monster peeped out. Sonny had his wish - he comes home on the school bus these days.

The next week, as I put sonny to bed, he tells me, "Kal schkooi. Miss L wait" (Its school tomorrow - Miss L(his teacher) will be waiting for me). I swallow hard. Yes honey, your teacher is waiting for you.

His teacher keeps informing me of his progress. He now joins the class in circle time, dancing, singing. He has friends in class. He just about bites into into his snack box. He's come a long way - from looking around the class,dazed, to parroting questions after his teaching, to understanding and replying correctly as she ran him through numbers, colors, shapes, flags.

Every night as I put him to bed and we finish our routine of stories, he tells me "Tomorrow schkooi. Miss L wait. Good mornin Miss L". And that just about tells me - what I want to hear.

Sure, there still are unresolved issues. He wont use the school bathroom. He just has a bottle of milk before he leaves for school - no breakfast. He eats about 10-12 grapes at school. Thats it. He's bone tired when he gets home.

And yet, the smile on his face, when he jumps off the bus each day - tells me - maybe just maybe - we may have made a good decision by sending him to school.

Its Official - She's a Prude

2008-05-05T11:18:00.003-04:00

I am a prude (no its true - C, M please let these guys know).

Hubby is a prude - ask his sisters. He's managed to ruin many an occassion for them, asking them to 'cover up'.

Sonny is a prude. Every time he sees my T-shirt go up - and its so easy these days - he runs up to me and says - Ma Tummy Bandh (Cover your tummy ma).

And now lil Soni joins the franchise.

At 17.5 weeks,we decided to get a peek-in to figure out what colors we needed to start buying. After begging and pleading with the doc (since we were in India), she smiled and said, "even if I wanted to tell you the sex, I couldnt. The baby was crouched really low in your abdomen". Oh hell!!

At 23 weeks, after we reached Riyadh, we scheduled an appointment for an ultrasound. The technician, managed to show us the heart, brain, stomach, intestines, virtually everything - except the sex of the baby. Why? Coz the baby was head up, crouched in a sitting-in-chair position. After some external pushing and prodding, she crosses her legs at the knees and proceeds to tap her legs to some music in her head. "Now its really not possible", the technician says, "she's crossed her legs". WTF!!! What does this child think of himself/herself?? C'mon kid let us have a look.

"Dont worry", says my gynec, "we'll have another look-in in the 3rd trimester".

Week 28 - we schedule another appointment. This time, the baby is head down. And we finally get to know - that its a girl. "Can we have a look at her face?" hubby queries. And what do you know - she covers her face with her hands.

Good god!! Either this child is a prude. Or a huge tease!!

2005 - A Birth Story

2008-05-02T09:13:00.002-04:00

I have been meaning to do a post on Sonny's birth for a while now. But somehow, it didnt happen. And so I thought before Soni (thats what I've decided to call baby 2 on this blog) arrives and by some sheer weird-ity, I manage to get both births mixed up(yeah like thats gonna happen) I must put it down.

So rewind to 2005 June.

Sonny is scheduled to arrive on June 25.

June 1, my gynec tells me - your cervix has begun to dilate - a bit now. What??? Isint it meant to dilate a few days before the birth? Well, he says each pregnancy is different. Maybe your body wants to take its own sweet time at this stage. O dear!! I'm shitting bricks.

June 2 - parents in law arrive. Ma in law takes one look at me and says - o dear you are weeks away. Your baby is still up. It has to move down a lot more before you can deliver. She's had 3 kids of her own, seen countless other pregnancies and delivered 5 grand-children, if she says its weeks away, who am I to argue.

June 7 - Is that my imagination or did I just see a blood stained mucus-y thingy flush away?

June 9 - We're watching a police car chase a run-away car in the US (reality TV doesnt get better than this) when I feel a funny crampy sensation. Its 10 in the night, I mention it to my ma-in-law. We conclude it must be Braxton Hicks. And everyone turns in for the night.

But its not. They are the begining of contractions. I start timing them. At first they are coming 15 mins apart, for 5 sec. As the night progresses, they get stronger. By 7am the next day they are coming at 10 mins apart, for 25 secs each.

June 10 - We call the hospital in the morning. The nurse on duty asks me if this is my first baby. Yes, I confirm. O then it'll take a while.Stay home. Dont come in till its 5 mins apart, 45 secs each, she says.

A slight digression here. Canada has public health care for all.So there is no concept of private health care. So everyone uses the same system. As you can imagine - the system is fairly over-loaded, as are the nurses and doctors. As much as possible, they advise you to stay at home and not clog the system. A lady who delivered a few months before me - reached the hospital much earlier and was asked to wait till she was sufficiently dilated to be admitted. I remembered that instance vividly and decided to take the nurse's advice.

By 3pm - the contractions are coming stronger. Now they are about 7 mins apart coming in for 35 sec. I call hubby (who has merrily left for work) and ask him to come back and take me to the hospital.

By 4pm I decide the contractions have touched the 5 min barrier and are coming for 40 sec each. Time to head to the hospital. Hubby and I take off for the hospital.

Hubby decides to go park his precious Passat in the parking lot (instead of leaving it in the Emergency Parking Only area) while I would go and check myself in. I remember getting a contraction as I waited for the lift and I put my head against the wall and winced through it.

The nurses at the station lazily look up as I approach them. I tell them, I am in labor. How long, they ask? I tell them 45 sec now - every 5 mins. Suddenly, the station bursts into activity. They take my Health Card, Hospital Card, someone tags me. I am taken into a delivery room, weighed, checked and asked to wait for the doctor. Hubby rushes in a few mins later. And we wait for the doc on call(didnt I tell you the system was overloaded).

Doc arrives a good 45 mins later. By this time I have gone through many contractions. She conducts an internal exam. Good, she says, you are 7 cm dilated.
7cm? All by myself? At home? yahoo!!! I'm a lil proud of myself now.
She has a bored expression on her face. Do you need an epidural, she asks. Oh yes, please, I say. Ok, we'll let the anesthesian know, she says and walks away.

The anesthesian comes an hour later. In the meanwhile the nurses take a detailed history. When did the contractions start, bloody show, the works. The nurses look at each other when I begin telling them. So I ask, is there an issue? Oh no - they say, your symptoms you describe - are all text-bookish, almost like we're reading our manual. O thats good to know, we're going by the book.

The anesthesian jokes and chats with me as he does his job. Everyone seems happy-clappy and once the drug starts working in, I'm happy clappy too.

9.20pm - The doc checks on me again. 9 cm dilated she tells me. We're going to artificially break your waters, she informs me. Like I'm going to object - go ahead lady - do your job. I dont feel a thing. Am I going to deliver before the bewitching hour, I ask her? I dont know - she says, lets see. Weird this doctor. So stand-offish. Where the hell is my regular doc?

The night stretches on endlessly. Hubby tries to get comfortable in the arm-chair they hospital has thoughtfully provided. I must be the first woman in recorded history, who actually falls asleep after having been 9 cm dilated with her waters broken. But no sign of baby arriving. All through the night the nurses check on me, fetal heartbeat. No signs for worry - and no sign of Sonny either. I've technically been in labor for over 28 hours now.

June 11, 5.30am. The nurses inform me - they are cutting back on the epidural. WTF??? Now that its just a couple of cms away and I have to push they are cutting back on my drugs? C'mom sweetie the nurse on duty tells me - my shift ends at 6.30 - let me see your baby before I leave. Slowly, i begin to feel the contractions, the pain. I push when they ask me to. But I just cant take the pain. No position gives me comfort. My back hurts like hell - partly due to the epidural in the spine, mostly due to the contractions. I want to stand up - the drug still has its effect on my legs(and not in the region where its meant to work). WTF!! WTF!!WTF!!

Oh man, the pain was unbearable. 6.30 comes and goes. So does the nurse. New nurse on duty. In the mirror on the ceiling, I can see my first glimpse of sonny's head. Its a head full of black hair. Nurse takes my hand down to touch Sonny's head. All I feel is something slimy and I pull my hand back.

The room is abuzz with activity. The senior doc on call comes and checks in regularly. How're u doing he asks me. What do you think, I want to yell? I'm walking on air? Oh God - I tell him, I cant take this pain. Cant take the pain, wanna get out of it fast, push harder, he tells me. I lunge wildly to get my hands on some instrument - so I can stab him. No that was my imagination - I just stare hard at him and yell real hard.

What happened after this - is pain tinged so I cant vouch for its accuracy. I remember a slicing kinda feeling and with a gush Sonny comes out. I think I heard a wail. Blood and gore all over. They put him on my bare tummy. I put my hand out to touch him. Yikes - more slime. I pull back. I feel hands inside me, the nurse pushes my tummy from outside. My baby is out, why do I feel the contractions now - i yell. You feel contractions, the senior doc tells me, good, keep pushing. Seriously, where is that knife? This man needs to die, right now.

They hand hubby the scissor. C'mon daddy the nurse tells him, cut the cord. No, No hubby shrinks back. C'mon dad, they urge him on, its your privilege. I turn to look at hubby, he has tears in his eyes. He cuts half the cord at first try. On the second try he cuts it clean. They whisk sonny off. He is weighed and who knows what they are doing. I dont know. I dont care. I've pushed for 3 hours - where the hell are the painkillers.

I'm stitched up. Sonny is wrapped and put in the warm bassinet. Suddenly the room is all quiet. Oh God, I hear hubby mutter. We dont have batteries in the camera. I'll go get some. Just for the records, he clicks some pics on his mobile and rushes off to make all the calls. Sonny and I lie quietly. I take a sneak peek at sonny. Big eyes, huge eye lashes and he's quickly taking in the place - eyes are flashing all over. He manages to wrestle his hand out. He's pink all over - blue tinged finger nails.

About an hour later, they move us out to our room.

And so thats how sonny arrived. Not much drama - except the one created in my head.
And now that its time foe Soni to arrive,I am beginning to dread going through this entire rigmarole again. Am I weird to dread it, second time round?

Sonny School Developments - Week 1

2008-04-30T15:06:00.003-04:00

People have told me - that the first day at school passes off fairly easily. Its Day 2 thats the bigger problem. The first day the child has no clue how long he has to stay in school, what is expected of him, etc. By Day 2 he is fairly aware, and hence even more difficult to deal with.

We had our own set of issues on Day 2. None of which we were warned about.

Day 2, sonny was sent to school as usual. Like Day 1 he happily got dressed and walked to school. A tiny lil wail and then all quiet. Hubby and I were fairly pleased with this rapid progress. 10am I get a call from the school's director. She wants to know if sonny is toilet trained yet. Yes, of course, I tell her. She tells me sonny has had an accident at school. Apparently, he had a poop job, luckily he was in his pull-up. The problem happened when they took him to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Sonny screamed blue murder, refused to sit on the adult toilet seat and got his clothes all completely soiled. Anyways, not to worry, she says, we've cleaned him up, he's fine now. I wonder what her defination of 'fine' is.
When I pick up sonny a while later, the teacher agrees with me, it could be because sonny is used to a kiddies seat at home, while the school only has the regular adults pot. She urges me to get sonny trained ASAP on the adults seat.

I have a niggling worry about exactly what would have happened at the school toilet. Sonny is normally not a tantrum-y child. For him to raise hell, he must have been through hell.

My various questions about what happened at school get no replies from sonny. The day passes off uneventfully. The night is a different issue all together. Sonny cried a lot in his sleep, woke many a times and had to be soothed back into sleep. Its like he kept having many bad dreams. By morning, he was running a mild temperature. If either hubby or I felt, it was related to the previous day's experience at school, we didnt tell each other. But we did agree that sonny was to be kept home.

By afternoon, sonny's temperature was gone. He was his normal happy self. He slept well at night. The next morning, he told me, his mouth was hurting. I checked and re-checked his mouth, his gums, teeth, as much of the throat as I could see - nothing. If sonny was making something up - this was the the very first time. And I had to give him the benefit of doubt. Besides he did have a mild temperature. For a second day, we kept sonny at home. Again by afternoon, he was fine.

The following day, was the last day of the week. There was a weekend following and 2 weeks of Spring/Easter Break. Sonny refused to get up in the morning - telling me he was very sleepy. What the hell, I thought, let him stay at home. And so sonny stayed at home.

Looking back, I dont know, if sonny made up any of those teeth/gum/throat aches. He did run a temperature - though people tell me, fear can often create a temperature in kids. He showed no fear or reluctance to use the bathroom at home. Experienced moms tell me, sonny could well have had some trauma (how I hate that word), from his experience at school. His poop-smeared clothes do tell me that he must've put up some resistance to get poop all over his shirt and pants.

So thats how ended Week 1 in sonny's school experience. He stayed at home more than at school. No that does not bother me one bit. What does bother me, is what did happen in that bathroom? What did my child go through? I know its not life scarring and its not all THAT major. Yet, what did happen? And did the following 3 days of school reluctance in any way point towards the school experience?

I guess, 2 weeks later when school would re-open would give me all the answers.

Sonny Starts School - Day 1

2008-04-27T10:37:00.000-04:00

When sonny turned 2 last year, I checked out the neighbourhood Montessori preschool. I made a list of all the qualities I wanted in the school and rated this school on those parameters. I even wrote a post about how I was dis-satisfied with the school in question. To my surprise, not all moms shared my views - especially moms of school going children.

After all this hue and cry, we travelled non-stop, returning only end-Feb, by which time I was already 5 months pregnant. Prior to this, sonny and I worked most mornings either reading or going over his numbers or alphabets or colors or shapes or whatever caught sonny's fancy. Strangely enough, once we returned, sonny showed little interest in all this. He was most interested in taking his 'sakoo' (cycle for the uninitiated) for a ride outside. A hugely bulging me, battling nausea at one end and dizziness on the other was just unable to oblige. Sending a 2 and half year old by himself, was out of the question.

So sheer desperation sent me back to the preschool. This time however, the caretaker was different. She took me around the premises again (though I had seen it last year as well). What seemed majorly different was her attitude. She was willing to be flexible. I peppered her with my issues.
School started at 8am - but sonny was a late riser. She said I could send sonny as late as 9.30am or 10am.
Sonny didnt speak English. That didnt seem an issue. Most kids didnt speak English here.
Sonny had just about begun toilet training. There were 2 weeks until the new term started. We could polish on his skills until then and even after that sonny could go to school in his pull-up.
Sonny wasnt great with eating on his own. He would learn. They would help him initially, gradually leaving him on his own.

Most importantly, they had openings in the 2-3 year batch - while the other age-groups had long waiting lists. So sonny could begin immediately or wait until the new term began, mid-March.

Either all her answers seemed right to me or sonny had driven me so much round the bend that I was willing to be accommodative. Either ways, after many discussions with hubby I finally enrolled him here. Mid-march was when sonny was due to begin.

In the meanwhile, we had much to do. Start brain-washing sonny about the nice-ness of his school. We bought him a school bag (way too large for him), water-bottle, lunch box - the works to get him all excited about the school. Prep him on a few English words, so that he wasnt completely at sea. Rigorous implementation of toilet training. Keep him entertained until school started.

Hubby and I enthusiastically name-dropped school. About what a fun place it was. How sonny was going to meet tons of kids there to play with. How sonny was finally becoming a big boy. Oh and all the new stuff that we would buy for him to use at school. Sonny however had other ideas. Every time we asked him,"Sonny would you like to go to school?" his answer would be "no!" O dear!!!

March 15 rolled by and we took him to school at 9.15am. Not knowing what was in store for him, sonny happily traipsed along. His teacher took him in the class. The moment he got in - he realised what was gonna happen. I told him to go in and that I would be back later to take him home. And sonny burst out crying. I waved him a shaky bye and very intently turned out not wanting sonny to see my quivering lips that stood between me and breakdown. Hubby and I walked out - and we could still hear sonny crying.

I got home, not knowing what to do next. I waited patiently by the phone. I'd given them instructions to call me if sonny didnt stop crying soon - or if there was any issue.
10am - Still silence from the school. No phone call.
Since the school is barely 6 houses away from mine - I was sorely tempted to walk down and hide behind the hedges to see if sonny was still crying.
10.15am - Phone rings. I lift it in half a ring. It was hubby wanting to check if the school had called. Put the phone down - I yelled at him. What if they are calling right now. Why dont you call them and check for yourself, he suggested.

So I called them. Turns out sonny cried for a few minutes and made himself want to throw up (sonny often does that - he cries real hard and makes himself throw up. that makes softies like me stop whatever we are doing to him - usually innocuous stuff like getting him a hair cut). So anyways they cleaned him up and now he was playing in the play area and seemed fine. He'd refused all food and drink (naturally) but he was getting along well.

Called hubby back with the news. What time do you want to pick him up, hubby asked me. Let him stay till the end of day (about 12.45), I bravely suggested. However, I wasnt sure, if my frayed nerves would last till then. I checked and re-checked Dr. Spock. If he goes in late - let him stay till the end of day. Who knows, maybe he's enjoying himself. Ok,I thought. I'll wait. And time just would'nt move. At noon I freshened up and spent the next 20 mins pacing up and down.

12.30 I walked out of the house.
12.32 I was waiting at the gate of the school.
I saw my neighbour S, whose daughter was in the same class as sonny. She was here to pick up her daughter too. "You let him stay the full day? And that too on the first day" she asked. Guilt completely over-ran me. "They said, he was happy playing", I squeaked. "O come on" she said, "we know better than what they said". O dear, what had I done!!!

Just then sonny came running out and clung at my legs. I smothered him in kisses and picked him up. We walked home - sonny parroting 'accha school' (good school) and 'mazaa aaya' (had fun) after me.
Since sonny still doesnt speak much, I only had his teacher's version to rely on. After the first crying bout, he quietened down and spent a major part of the day playing.

So thats how ended -sonny's first day at school.

Oh and after we got home, and ate lunch, hubby turns up home. Really unusual. What are you doing home at this hour, I screech. I came to pick him up from school, he yells back. You told me you were going in at 1pm, I thought I'd surprise you both by being there to pick him up. Now you've ruined everything.
O dad!!!!

It takes a village...

2008-04-27T01:56:00.002-04:00

It takes a village to raise a child.

So goes an ancient saying. Didnt realise how true this saying was - until mom and dad in law left us and returned back to India. Sonny was then 5 months old. I still remember retuning to an absolutely still house. Hubby and I retreated to our own shells - pretending to be really really busy with who knows what.

Slowly as we adjusted to them not being there - came the first whammy. One entire night when sonny wouldnt sleep. We rode around in the car, fed him, bottle fed him (hubby's constant theory - my son is hungry), rocked him, ignored him, fought with each other, yelled at each other, nothing worked. It wasnt like he was crying or anything - he just wouldnt sleep. He finally fell asleep at 4 or 5 am (by then who cares - the night had passed away - sleepless).

And everyday sonny had something new for us. New, ignorant parents that we were - we only had Dr. Spock for company. We didnt want to worry the parents living thousands of miles away at every lil thing. So we stumbled and bumbled and fell and picked ourselves up again.
Why has my perfectly healthy 10 month old child not eaten in 18 hours?
He's spouting his front 3 teeth at go, you silly goose.
No one told me that - and ignoramuses that we were, we rushed him to the hospital.

Why wont my chld's diaper rash go away?
Stop using those damn wipes. Use cotton buds and water instead.
See, now that made sense - the rash went away in half a day.

Why is my child slow at crawling?
Well, if you out him down from your lap - will he realise that he's gotta move around on his own, dodo.

Ahhh!!

And millions and millions and millions of lil things like that. For each we'd tell ourselves, "I wish I knew this", "Why didnt anyone tell me this earlier?"

For for that one needs a village. Full of wise, intelligent women with lil tit-bits of gyaan to be doled out. Inspiring anecdotes when you are down. And when nothing else works - loads of hugs.

Its true - it takes a village to raise a child. And you my doula gang - are my village people.

If only we knew

2008-04-26T09:08:00.002-04:00

Ok unlike my other posts - this one is being typed in directly. No editing, no saving, no later corrections. Just a gush of emotions - fresh, raw and as I feel it.

No wise cracks, no humor - just a whole lot of tears.

Its 4pm and sonny is taking his afternoon nap.Tharini just sent me an invite to see the online baby shower. Its been 10 mins since and I am still wetting hubby's precious laptop with copious tears. And they just wont stop.

Thank you guys for everything you've done. Thank You for the thought you've put into it. Thank you for your wishes. Thank you for taking time out of your daily schedules, your babies, your household chores for thinking about us. Thank you for not just thinking but also doing it for us. Thank you for the chase. Thank you for the riddles. Thank you for the rhymes. For the beautiful artwork on the page. For the gyaan. For the inspiration. For everything that you've put together for us.

For us - who are these nameless, faceless women you meet on blogosphere. For us - who are these hormone ridden, pregnant women whose life seems to revolve around these 9 months. For us, who appear and then vanish at will and then re-appear out of nowhere (mea culpa). For us, who arent related to you by any means - except by a thread called motherhood.

Thank you - for the best baby shower ever.

Status Update

2008-04-22T09:26:00.004-04:00

Now that I've begun blogging again I just cant stop.

So here's the status update.

No of pregnant weeks : 32

Due date: June 23

Sex of fetus: Female (its a girl, its a girl, its a girl - I cant stop singing)

No of kilos gained: 10 (this inspite of all the throwing up - thank you Fanta!)

Food Preferences: Mostly vegetarian. Havent eaten chicken all through. Can just about stand fish.

No of hours of continuous sleep possible: 2(max)

No of nightly awakenings: On an average 6

What hasnt bloated: My poor lungs (currently my diaphragm has squashed them). Everything else has gone up 2 sizes(min)

Fully functional organs remaining: errr... ummm.......

Clothes in the wardrobe that fit me: 4 maternity pants if worn under the belly, a couple of stretch T-shirts (really really stretched)

Whose clothes am I wearing: Hubby's (obvious advantages of having a hubby chubbier than you ;) )

Sonny's reaction: Ma pet mein chotu baby (there is a lil baby in ma's tummy) and Ma pet bandh (cover you tummy ma)

Hubby's reaction: Kitna natak kar rahi ho(such pretense), this didnt happen the last time

My reaction to it: If there is such a thing as next life, I hope you're born as a woman who gets pregnant 5 times. Hmmmmppppff!!!!!!

Finally - Something Said!!!

2008-04-22T02:29:00.003-04:00

Poppins, nm, Just Like That, Tharini, art, TAP, fuzzy, orchid, mad momma, and all those who stopped by and wondered, "what the hell happened to her?", I owe you guys a HUGE apology. 6 months and not 1 word - you have a right to be angry and mightily pissed with me.

But I hope the news I will share with you - will alleviate - if only a bit.

I AM PREGNANT!!!

And the last 6months have been spent - running.
Running to throw up - for the nth time
Running to hide my nose - for fear of the unknown smell that'll cause a throw up.
Running to chase sonny.
Running to keep in-step with a jet setting hubby.
Running to shop (o yes that too)
Running to take sonny to the bathroom for fear of an accident (in all this - I even attempted toilet training)

Finally the last 2-3 weeks have been reasonably peaceful.

And so I have been trying to clear my in-box(monumental task that), get the house in order, rest, sleep, cook...... the works.

I discovered I was pregnant, 5 days before we were to fly to Canada to get our visa in order. In the midst of all the other things to take care of - I had to run around, find a doctor, get tests done, get 3months worth of anti-nausea pills and other medicines prescribed, wind down the house and fly to the US.
Sis-in-law graciously agreed to house this pest(and her lil pest) while hubby went criss-crossing between the US, Montreal, Ottawa to get the papers in order. Like a sentinel she (and her hubby) guarded me, pushed food down my throat, made sure medicines went down, kept an eye over sonny, kept him entertained, took me around to see the place, took me shopping (hoping that would keep my churning tummy diverted) and became my doctor, my mom, my friend, my philosopher, my guide.....thank you so much BB and AB. I can honestly never, ever, thank you enough for all that you've done for me.

That done a 13 week pregnant STS, then flies to India - where she leeches onto her parents-in-law. While hubby's visa issues were taken care of in Canada - moi required a visa to be issued out of New Delhi. Hubby chasing out of Riyadh(yes he had to come back and re-join work), and us chasing out of Lucknow, going back and forth many times - we finally got the damned visa. Not to mention trying to explain - why a pregnant woman cannot (unless under dire circumstances) get an X-Ray - to doctors, visa officials, agents.

Finally a 6 month pregnant STS lands back in Riyadh. To a house where hubby has been living for the past 2-3 months. And yet STS needed 2 weeks to clean it enough - so that it was habitable.

Decided to get sonny enrolled in the neighbourhood Montessori. Which required toilet training. So for over a month I labored, bent, heaved, ran just to make sure sonny understood exactly what was required of him - on the pot.

Phew!!!
As we stand today - sonny has begun school. His school experiences are matter for another post. I get 4 hours everyday - to rest, cook, organise and now even post, until sonny gets back.

I am hoping for some peace, at least for a month. Hopefully by then in-laws will be here to ease the burden. And then the mad-house will get active again when the baby arrives.

P.S. : I hope someone reads this post - and not everyone has given up on me.

I am thankful for...

2007-10-11T13:19:00.000-04:00

Hubby makes a moot point that I am forever complainative. That I can complain about everything. Even about the choices that I have made myself.

So let me put the record straight and put down in writing the things I am thankful for.

Healthy Happy Son:
Thank You God for a child that is healthy and happy. So he's a little late on the talking milestone. But he blabbers and says a number of words. And its a start. I keep hoping and praying that he will gush out soon.

Transparent Husband:
Who cant keep any secrets from me. Though I love to be surprised with lil stuff - and he just cant make that happen. But at least there are no shocks that he has in store for me.

Comfortable Life:
O it is more than comfortable. Yes, in the last year and half we've traveled like crazy but its tapering off now. And wherever we've traveled we've always stayed more than comfortably. And i got to see the world and stay in so many different places.

Easy Life:
No matter how much I complain about Riyadh and its twisted rules, life sure is simple there. I have a maid to do housekeeping. I have another lady ready to do cooking for me (though I havent fallen for that yet). Every other day, I get asked if I need someone to care for the lil patch of garden I have or to wash hubby's car or to babysit sonny. And all these services are so damn cheap - it takes guts of iron to say 'no thank you, I can manage'.

Cool In-laws:
I am such a 'jhalli' - and I really dont know of an apt English translation of that word. I think simplistic would be the positive spin on it. And they've just taken me as I am. My un-co-ordinated stuff, my lack of cooking skills, my laid-back approach to stuff. And yet they've just showered so much love and affection on me. My father-in-law makes sure I have my chaat-sessions (bhel puri, paani puri, dahi puri - the works) every time I am here. Mom-in-law bares her wardrobe for me to pinch clothes from. This one I am truly truly eternally grateful to God for.

Most loving friends:
I am so laid-back that if it werent for C and M - my closest buddies, knocking me on my head every few days with a mail or phone call or patiently waiting for me to get back - I would have lost them forever. And really they my most treasured finds. Thank you God for them and keep them safe.

My blog pals:
I was lonely and friendless in the cold of Boston. I created a blog and so many delightful moms (and non moms) showed up. Some giving me guidance. Some re-assurance. Some stating facts that I really ought to have seen. Some laughing at my bumbling efforts at being a mom. And some dropping a line or two asking me where I have been, if I havent posted for a while. Thank you God for these wonderful women (and the odd man or two).

My parents:
They've always given me the ample space I've needed - and the advice. Never interfered in my married life or in my motherhood efforts. Always asking if I'm happy. Always praying for me. Thank You God for them.

Being a Mother:
It was never planned and I have complained non-stop through it. The breast-feeding problems, the unslept nights, the unwashed hair and the stretch marks, the aches and pains....they've all been complained for and yet the end result has been loved and cherished. Thank you God for giving me this wonderful opportunity.

My Extended Family:
Sisters in law who are more sisters than in laws, cousins who I've spent so many unproductive evenings with, cousins who I went shopping with, uncles who know of my every like and dislike, aunts who still remember that I love their achars, a grandmom who still calls me 'baby', for all of them - I thank you God. So there were a few nasty aunts, a few khadoos uncles, well - they made the others seem good by contrast :)

And now that I think about it - I want to thank God for every little obstacle, every little twist he put in my life. Because with all of them, inspite of all of them, my life really is not worth complaining about.

Shame!!!

2007-10-10T05:47:00.000-04:00

Being an Indian brings out a lot of emotions in me - pride, sense of responsibility, hope, even frustration at times. I never thought shame would one day get included in that list.

A few days ago - we were on a flight from Abu Dhabi to Delhi (yes people we're back in India - for the 2 week long Eid holidays). The flight was full of desi-bhais (fellow Indians). Even before the flight took off - the air-hostesses were seen looking hassled as passenger upon passenger demanded blankets. O sure nothing wrong with asking for blankets - you're cold, you wanna snooze off - you need a blanket. But do you need 2??? One that you sneak into your hand luggage to take home as a souvenir. And I'm told the airline allows to take one blanket off the flight - as part of their customer service stuff. And still you want 2. Come to think of it - I'm sure the airline staff has no option but to smile beatifically as passenger after passenger walks off with the said blankets. Might as well - call it a gift.

Since its the month of Ramazan - the staff asks you if you want to eat on flight or want a take-away. If you're fasting they give you a pack of dry lunch. And yet the man in the seat next to hubby - pulled out a plastic bag and emptied the contents of the food tray into the bag - to take home. And food included some dal, Chicken and rice with kheer as a sweet dish. Why? I seriously dont know.
The man behind me asked for a take-away. When the steward returned with his take-away box, he asked for another. He explained to the steward in really broken English, that the take-away box contained inadequate amounts of food and he needed more. He continued to pester the steward till the man told him that they had a veg box left. Was he still interested? Sure he was. Then he gloated to all the men seated next to him that 'maangne se milta hai' (if you ask - you'll get it).

No, none of this caused shame. I oscillated between despair and frustration for my fellow desis.

The shame happens now.
The captain announced that we would land in 30 mins. Like bullet out of gun, the man across the aisle jumped out and got his suitcase down. When I stared, he told me - 'time bachta hai' (you save time if you have your stuff in your hands). Of course the air-hostess gave him an earful and demanded that he return the bag to the over-head bin. To which he says ' theek hai - khud rakh do' (fine keep it yourself). So I leaned across and explained to him that it was his bag - he had to do it. Suddenly all the men around me, (apart from the airhostesses, there were just 5 other women on the flight - I counted) started having a loud, free for all debate about keeping the bag back. 10 rows away a man got up and yelled 'abbe rakh de - kaahe paresaan kar raha hai' (come on - put it back dont be a nuisance). Man agreed - order was restored.

The plane touched down and was still taxing when all the seat-belts opened loudly and suddenly all the men were up on their feet, opening the over-head bins, taking out their bags. Whats the fucking hurry, I thought. You anyways have to wait - they will have the business class disembark first. The steward politely announced in English -asking people to remained seated. No body bothered. And the plane is still moving. Suddenly a loud, shrill announcement happens in Hindi - and really rudely the stewardess asks passengers to get back to their seats "fauran" she said. Immediately. 'Abhi plane ruka nahin hai - jab aap se kaha jaayega tab apni seats chodiye' (The plane hasnt stopped yet - leave your seats when we ask you to).It kind of sobers these mad idiots and they scramble back to their seats, laughing - as one laughs at a mad professor. Still a couple of men continue to get their stuff down. Stewards, physically get them down. Only then do they remain seated.

Finally plane halts - and like bullets these men are out of their seats. Fearing for our safety I remain seated. The air-bridge gets connected. 2 men stand at the window and loudly yell at everyone 'abhi bridge lag raha hai - bus bhi aa gayi hai. shayad bus se le jaayenge. abee hume kahe khada kar rakha hai - bhai jaldi utaro'. (the bridge is getting set. the bus is here too - maybe they'll take us by bus. why the hell are we still made to stand here - get us off quickly). I sink deeper and deeper into my seat. I could have well been an the Delhi- Patna Express - given the mentality of the crowd.
When the crowd thins off I manage to get up and move towards hubby's seat (last min reservations meant - we were in different rows) - he's slumped in his seat too. I see a man ahead of him - open the bin and take out our bag - and he moves towards the exit. 'Hey' hubby runs after him - 'thats my bag'. 'O is it' - he queries and turns towards a man at the rear - 'Sajju which one is yours?'. We move off.
There is no stewardess standing to wish us good-bye at the door. Thank God I thought - how would I ever meet her eye after all this.

Immigration queue - there is man actually putting people in queues, for there are enough people wanting to jump the line. And all those early birds who ran off the plane are waiting for others to fill the Immigration forms for them. O wow - I thought - they cant even fill the forms. We're waiting in the line - and the man who took off with our bag is behind us. The agent waves off one passenger and before we can move, this man has shot off. I yelled. the man manning the queues, yelled at him too, both of us gave him an earful. Smilingly he tells me - 'hume laga - aap bad nahin rahe ho - hum hi jaaye' (I thought you werent moving - so let me take your place). 'Hum yahan kya prabhu bhajan ke liye khade hain?' I screamed. Suddenly all around me people are saying 'Chodiye behenji' (let it be sister). Sister? Who me???

Anyways we finally left the airport.

Deeply ashamed of our fellow-citizens.

"Its no wonder", hubby summed it up well, "why air-hostesses look towards Indians like we're puke or worse. We probably deserve it."

Why us, God? Why us???

Words of Wisdom

2007-10-03T03:12:00.000-04:00

From TV serials no less...

"A super-mom is the first to crack" - Desperate Housewives
Agree completely. More than agree, I hope they do crack - so lesser moms like me feel better.

"Being a mom is like being an ER doctor. There are no days off." - Desperate Housewives
Agree, agree, agree.

"As parents grow older, the roles get reversed. You being the child have to take them in, and care for them no matter how weird, obnoxious and unbearable they may seem." - Desperate Housewives
Didnt know this was true in the US as well.

"The problem men have with commitment is thus. Its like you're driving on an interstate, you see a sign for the Rest Area. The woman thinks - good this is all we need, food, lodging, fun, everything. Lets take this exit. The man is looking at the sign that says 'Next Rest Area 27 miles' and he's thinking ' I can make it' and continues driving." - Seinfeld
This one really really cracked me up.

O dear...hubby is right. I do need a life.

Sonny names

2007-09-19T07:26:00.000-04:00

K's mom tags me to do a tell-all of the names we call sonny.

To begin with Sonny is itself a nick. Sonny's Ma bows to take the credits on this one.

Gudda - The quintessential boy nick ever. Called only when sonny is behaving himself.
Chanda - My Moon.
Paalu - A spin-off for 'Pyaaru' or loved one
Mommy doffs her hat at these.

At times Sonny's mom forgets she has a boy and insists on calling him girl nicks. So he's called:
Gudiya - My doll
Bitiya - My daughter
Rani - My queen
Goes unsaid - sonny's baba can only see red when his male off-spring is called girly-names.

Chote/Chhotu - Lil one. Of course he is the Chota-most in the household. Baba gets credited with this one.

Aalu - Baba gets credited with this one too. Its actually a spin-off his name. But it means potato :)

Shonu-Shoniya - Depending on whether mom is in a mood for a boy or girl nick.

Bandar - Literally Monkey. When sonny decides its antics-time. Only Ma calls him this one.

Arabi - Arab inhabitant. Sonny's paternal grand-dad gave him this title since we've moved to Riyadh.

Angrez ki aulad - Mom calls him this one - when sonny decides to be abso firang. Literally means Son of an English man.

Khadu/Khattu - Its the weirdest spin-off of Sonny's name. Sonny first started referring to himself as 'khadu' - so the credit rightly rests with him.

Sweetu-bumchi - Sweet bums :) Sonny's ma takes credit for this one.

Nautanki - Literally means 'drama'. These days sonny gives us ample opportunity to refer to him as nautanki. Origin - unknown.

About Maddy

2007-09-08T17:05:00.000-04:00

If there is one piece of news that keeps getting repeated on virtually every news channel, its the one about 4 year old Madeleine Mc Cann.

About 3 months ago, Maddy was vacationing on the Priar da Luz island of Portugal with the parents, both doctors and her twin younger brother and sister. On 3 May 2007 her parents put the kids to sleep in their apartment and joined their friends over dinner in a tapas restaurant, literally a 100 yards away from the hotel. They kept coming back at frequent intervals to check on the kids.
At one such time, the mother discovered that young Maddy was missing from her bed. She raised an alarm, but no one took her seriously. They thought either the child had wandered off on her own or some friend or acquaintance had heard her cry and taken her away.

Its been over 3 months now - and the police still have nothing conclusive about either the motive or the possible whereabouts or the possible state of the child. Her parents, of course are convinced that she is alive and being kept well. Its possible they reason, that the kidnapper, is afraid to come out in the open to ask for a ransom, in a case that has such high news visibility. After all, David Beckham and a host of other footballers have made public appeals for Maddy. J.K. Rowling too has pledged money to be paid for any information about the child.

As a parent, its your worse nightmare come true. Of course you can argue - how could they leave their kids alone and go out to dinner. Maybe they've done it in the past -with no consequence, except good. After all they were on vacation. Imagine, looking away from your child for a few minutes and when you look back - your child is gone. The possibility of a deranged, childless couple taking young Maddy is strong, as is the fearful possibility of a pedophile taking off with the child. One acquaintance does remember seeing a white male with something looking like a child draped over his shoulder, covered in a blanket being seen around the apartment around the time Maddy was found missing.

Her parents have left no stone unturned to find their girl. They've refused to return home - until they have their child with them. They've visited the pope, had celebrities make appeals, raised thousands of pounds for themselves and for other groups involved with finding missing children. Most importantly they have managed to keep this case open and fresh in the public eye - so that public pressure will keep authorities on their toes.

Of course, you can ask, what about the scores of kids who go missing everyday? What makes Maddy special that we think, pray and want her to be found and we dont even know who else is missing. What does that say of us, as public? What does it say of the media who have splashed the angelic looking Maddy's pictures all over?

As I typed this post heart full of sympathies and prayers for the McCann family, that I read that the child's mother has been named suspect in the murder. The police apparently have found evidence to state that the mother may have 'accidentally' killed the child and with the liaison of her husband has managed to dispose off the body. You're telling me - that a couple with relentless media attention on them - has managed to dispose off their own child's body - while the world at large was literally hunting for her? As I shook off this piece of news comes the next bolt - the parents who had publicly pledged not to leave Portugal until they found their Maddy, has taken a flight back home. They say they want a normal childhood for their other kids - and will continue the search for Maddy.

This is a story (as in news story) that has been playing on my mind at many levels:
1. How come an educated doctor couple left their kids in an apartment in a strange place, at night, asleep? Without locking the door from the outside? Without a baby sitter? Or nanny? Or informing the security guards to keep an eye on the kids?
2. Why didnt the local police take their alarm at the child being lost, seriously? Everyone knows - if a missing child's whereabouts are not known in the first hour - the chances are remote that the child will ever be found.
3. It took 2 months for child abduction specialists to fly down from UK - which is literally next door. Mobile tracking experts took another month to land. Why?
4. The police investigation was so haphazard that no one took DNA samples from the room - or from Maddy's toy that she usually slept with.
5. The media has blown this story so much. Is it because, Maddy is such an angelic, attractive child, daughter to an attractive white middle-class doctor couple? Why dont incidents of other child abductions drawn as much attention?
6. And after creating so much furore about not leaving until they found Maddy - how come the parents have suddenly taken flight (literally)?

No matter what you think, whoever you hold responsible, whoever is suspected, whoever is convicted, I just hope and pray the child comes back home to her parents - safe and sound.

Moments

2007-09-08T16:34:00.001-04:00

What is life, without moments? Some stay with you forever. Here are a few that I can never forget.

Scariest Moment Ever:
I was 8 months pregnant. We lived in Montreal, in a house, where the first floor (or ground floor - as we say in India) was occupied by our landlord and landlady - a very caring yet old couple. WE lived on the floor above. There were 2 entrances, which were interconnected, so to give us the privacy of moving about on our own, our landlady usually kept the connecting door closed.
One weekend, the landlady's son came to visit his with his 2 dogs. I am petrified of dogs. Hubby asked landlady to keep the dogs out of the way, since I was huge and scared to boot. We were leaving for a friends place, through our door, when I heard the dogs bark, especially loud. I was commenting to hubby how the dogs must feel being indoors, when the connecting door flew open and out bounded a huge German Shepard. Instinct took over common sense and I turned and ran up the stairs. There are about 14 stairs that lead up to our house upstairs and the door to our house was locked. I could see the door and my brain yelled - now where are you going to run? Before I could reach the door, I tripped and fell. Again instinctively I held my hands down to cushion my belly and now I could smell the dog and hear him at my hip. My brain ran out all the possibilities, premature birth, loosing the baby, tetantus injections... the works. And then like a miracle I felt the dog being literally pulled away and 2 arms helping me up.
Finally I thought, hubby managed to jump up and come to my rescue. But I was wrong. It was my landlady's son. He had run out after his dog and literally pulled him away from me - considering how big and strong German Shepards can be, it was quite a deed. He was all apologies, he literally dropped on his knees to see if I had bruises or cuts or if the baby was fine. Now, hubby arrives. He had remained rooted to the spot - where we were when we were faced by the dog.
I was way too relieved with the outcome to get mad at hubby. But since then I have often ribbed, taunted and jibed at hubby - why didnt he come to my rescue? How come the man who was further away from him managed to bound upstairs and literally saved my baby? And I dont even want to think about what would have happened, if landlady's son hadnt come when he did.

To date, I can remember, the clothes I was wearing, hubby was wearing, landlady's son's face, the dog's eyes, his breath and the way I counted sonny's movements for hours after that.

Hands down scariest moment ever!

Goofiest Moment:
I was applying lipstick, a few weeks ago, in front of the mirror. Now sonny likes to stand and watch mommy dress up. So I open my lips in a O and trace the stick over my lips. I look into the mirror at sonny - and there he is with his mouth in a big O and curling his lips, like I am curling mine.
I just cudnt control myself -and I burst out laughing. Sonny sees mommy tittering away, realises the joke is on him and turns bright red before running away.

Most Embarrassing Moment:
I usually change in sonny's presence - with my back to him. So one day, while changing, I reached out for an inner garment. My hands couldnt find it. so I groped some more. Turned around -to see - sonny holding out the exact inner wear that I had been looking for.
Pact made with self - will change in the bathroom, hereon.

Heart Swelled with Pride Moment:
When we do our groceries for the week, hubby hauls up the stuff to the house door. Then I take the stuff to the kitchen, one by one to put it away. One day, hubby got the stuff indoors and went to relax (man's work done! - needs to relax) in front of the TV. Sonny was observing me take in bag by bag to the kitchen. Next thing I know, sonny's grabbed a huge bag of veggies and is determinedly pulling it towards the kitchen. And he was all of 18 months then. Awwww... I said - finally a man in the house!!!

HIM and HER

2007-09-05T17:36:00.000-04:00

Once upon a long long time ago, in a far away land lived HIM and HER. HER loved HIM to bits and showered all her love, attention, patience onto HIM. HER took care of every little necessity that HIM had. His food, clothing, sleep, entertainment, you name it. If it werent for HER, HIM would've probably had a very tough life.

On his part, HIM too showered all his attention on HER. Of course all his tantrums too were directed towards HER. Of course, you show your worst side only to the one who is closest to you. Theirs was a physical bond that no one could shake. That no one could deny. That no one could understand. A bond further strengthened by all the sacrifices HER made for HIM. She hoped someday HIM would realise all that she had done for him. Its not like she wanted anything in return for her efforts. Just his love. Pure, unadulterated, focussed love. And dedication. Maybe a bit of dependency too (just a bit). So she gave and gave and gave.

Then one day, HIM realised the presence of THE OTHER MAN (TOM). To be fair, TOM has always been around in the lives of HIM and HER. Its just that they were so absorbed in each other - they didnt give him due importance. And TOM waited. And bided for the time - they would envelop him in their circle of love. If ever HER tried to rope him in - HIM seeing immediate potential threat to his position, pushed TOM away. So TOM waited. And just as TOM predicted, one fine day HIM realised, there was one more person who loved him as much. Who too made sacrifices for him - just to see his smile. The only difference being TOM wasnt always around like HER.

And TOM was way cooler. Unlike HER who was often frazzled, TOM laughed at most of HIM's antics. Since TOM occasionally saw HIM - he was more patient. TOM taught HIM new tricks and showed HIM more manly games.
And more than anything else TOM had what HER didnt. TOM had a car!!! A real one - with headlights and taillights and number plates and wheels and exhaust pipe - all the things that HIM fantasized about. So HIM fell for TOM - hook, line and sinker.

And these days the moment HIM a.k.a sonny opens his eyes his first words are 'baba' - which is what he calls TOM a.k.a hubby. HER a.k.a STS just rubs her eyes in disbelief at this new romance in the house. And when she puts HIM to bed all he can ask for is 'baba?'. And when they're eating, 'baba?'.

O dear God!!!! First I get called nanny and then my dutifully trailing son - finds another love.
I need chocolate AND ice cream!!!

Why I qualify to be sonny's nanny

2007-09-04T17:17:00.000-04:00

Ever since we've come to the Middle East, everywhere I turn all I see is the Madam walking ahead toting a Gucci (or Fendi or whatever) and a Filipino/Indian sub-continent/sub-Saharan woman walking a few steps behind either pushing the stroller or carrying the child or leading the child by hand.

And while madam riffles through the many shop racks, the poor nanny has to keep the child entertained (really which child loves shopping expeditions).

Once we enter the compound - you can see the nanny has a nice uniform (or maybe not) and she basically trails the child hauling all paraphernalia. Tennis rackets, balls, swimming gear, towels, even food containers. Sometimes you see the child riding their bikes and the nannies running after them - just to stuff a morsel in their mouths.

I still remember the shock I was in - the first day I took sonny to the Recreation Center. All around me - were nannies of various shapes, sizes and colors. Where the hell are the moms, I thought. The few moms that I did manage to meet - told me - moms were at the coffee shop - having their 'meet your friend' time. Now if you had a full time maid (and most people here do) - its just easier to make a a schedule where the maid takes the child out in the evening while you - well - you have coffee with your friends. However, I do know of moms - who pay freelance maids 20 SR an hour to take their kids to the park. Pick your jaw off the floor - for many maids have asked me too - if I needed this service.

Of course I politely declined. I didnt need a maid. I had me. Full time nanny to sonny. Housekeeper to hubby. Cook for both. Teacher. Playmate (to both ;) )

And then a few days ago - a kid asked me - where was sonny's mom? Taken off guard, I said - well I am his mom. She refused to believe me. Why not, I asked? You're with him all the time - how can you be his mom? And I dont see you chatting with the other moms. O I said - sonny likes to play here - so we're here. The other moms are inside the cafe - sonny cant play there. She gave me one incredulous look. Where's his dad, she asked me - still not convinced. O he's at work, I said. When will he be back? Soon. Good, she said. The I'll ask him. O be my guest honey.

So I decided to put down the reasons, why I qualify to be categorised as sonny's nanny.
1. I feed him, bathe him, clothe him, diaper him. Have you seen a mom do that?

2. I'm with him all the time. Ok, helicopter moms do that too.

3. When we step out to play - I let him decide the agenda. If he wants swings, we go to the swings, if he wants play indoors - indoors it is. If he wants to head home - we head home. Mommys dont let kids decide the agenda. They have their own agenda. The have to meet friend A at such place and friend B at another place. And the kid has to go with mommy. If not - nanny could you take him where he wants to go?

4. When sonny is tired, and wraps his chubby arms around my knees - I pick him up and we walk home. We talk and I point out flowers and sing songs. Have you ever seen a mommy do that? Only nannies do these weird things.

5. Since all mommies are conferencing at the coffee shop - I only have other nannies to hello hi to. Mommies only talk to other mommies. Only nannies talk to other nannies.

6. When we see other kids - I encourage sonny to say hi to them (he being an exquisite wall flower). Mommies are usually busy talking to notice other kids. Only nannies have the time for such frivolous stuff.

7. If we do manage to run into another mommy - and I do manage to start a conversation, sonny invariably runs off. Fearing for his safety - I run after him, conversation dropped forthwith. Have you ever seen a mommy do that? They have nannies to run after their kids.

8. Mommies have serious hobbies, passions. They take tennis lessons in the morning, gym in the afternoon, golf in the evenings. I am so busy keeping pace with sonny - I have no time to indulge in hobbies. I manage to read a book in 10 days - and I thank the Lord for it.

9. I carry most of sonny's stuff - and he pushes his stroller on his own. Which mommy in her right mind would carry all the stuff herself?

10. I havent taken a single day off in the last 2 years. I am up for 'Best Employee' award.

So you see - the kid was right. Who in their right mind would think I was sonny's mom?

Hubby of course believes, I need to dress a lil more trendily - show some skin, wear a few spaghetti straps, maybe shorts some times - just to differentiate from the chastely dressed nannies. Get my hair colored. Nails done. Dress up like I have all the time in the world. Bah!!!!

P.S.: Moms here are predominantly of European descent. Eastern and Western. Some Arabs too. A sprinkling of Asian moms.

O Dear

2007-09-04T08:12:00.000-04:00

what can the matter be?

Sonny no longer shows any interest in stepping out of the house.

No seriously, dont laugh. This kid would lunge for the door even if it was opened 1cm. He could hear the sound of the door opening a long distance away and would come running to be let out. Since it would be really really hot in the day, each evening, I'd take him and he'd run and scamper and push his stroller. And burn off a lot of excess energy. We've made it a practice to step out for a post-dinner walk, and the moment dinner was cleared, sonny could be found standing next to the door or pulling his dad off the couch.

These days, after he's had his evening snack - he continues to play with his cars or toys. My calls for 'baa-il' (his version of bahar or outside) fall on deaf ears. I open the door, still no response. I'm going, I warn him, he still continues to play. Finally, when I start to push his tri-cycle out of the house, is when he starts to take notice.

Once outside, this kid, who couldnt sit still, will stop me after a few paces and sit down on his tri-cycle, asking me to push him around instead. And we walk all over the compound in this fashion. I point out the flowers and birds and cars and babies and he sits and listens to me. Thats it. No further interest in wanting to get up or push the stroller or tri-cycle like he used to earlier.

Hubby thinks its the intense heat. It sure is hot. 40 C in the evenings is hot. But sonny has seen this hot phase earlier as well.
I think he's way too busy with his toys. He's got 2 cartons full of toys when our stuff came in from Montreal. He's old for some of them, but it doesnt hurt tossing them around, once in a while. Plus he's got his books too.

Or he's stricken with his father's disease. Laziness.

I wonder which one it is. Time will tell for sure.

Ode to the Spud

2007-09-03T16:54:00.000-04:00

For something that looks round, tubby, chubby - the potato has held an amazing sway over the world. From the Americas to Europe to Africa to Asia - this is one vegetable (ok food crop) that is common to all. In fact its the fourth largest cultivated food crop in the world - after wheat, rice and corn (Wikipedia).

And why not - its one of the safest, least harm causing food article - after perhaps rice. Most new moms introduce the potato (or the peas) as one of the first vegetables to a child beginning solids. And yet, its difficult to find someone allergic to the spud or having an intense dislike for it.

I remember, as a child, my mom added potatoes to almost every veggie she cooked. In the hope that the lure of the potato would draw us to taste the veggie. Sometimes she succeeded - sometimes not.Come to think of it - you can add potato to almost every thing you cook, to palak(spinach) makes palak-aloo, to gobhi(cauliflower or cabbage) makes gobhi-aloo. From capsicum, to beans to even brinjal - every veggie has succumbed to the influence of the starchy aloo. Except perhaps the bitter-hearted karela (bitter gourd).
Even non veg food is no exception. The biryani-ka-aloo (potatoes cooked with biryani) is a delight in itself. The coastal folks make a mean dish containing potatoes and fish.

And there are so many ways to cook the potato by itself - zeera aloo is a favourite dish served with puris for breakfast. You can make them with tomatoes, with sesame seeds (nice and crunchy), with a paste of coriander leaves, with red hot chillies, the masala dosa filling...... the list is endless.

French fries, roasted with its skin on, mashed potatoes, the western world has its own delightful ways of cooking this humble spud.

Versatile, congenial, adaptable, hardy, pest resistant, not expensive, likable, universal, this is one veggie that truly should be crowned 'King of Veggies'

Or Queen - given its shape ;)

Que Sera Sera

2007-09-03T16:28:00.000-04:00

Whatever will be...will be..
So said a song, long long ago.

Of course that does not stop this crazy woman from thinking what her 2 year old will turn up to be.
However, here are some of the predictions:

Footballer: Predicted by a 8 month pregnant me - as he squirmed and kicked every organ of my body. Ob-gyn suggested cricketer, hubby wanted ice-hockey player. Prediction still holds true - as he continues to kick and push even as he tries to cuddle into me at night.

A Painter/Pianist: So predicted my landlady when she saw a 5 day old, not yet 7 pounds sonny. She thought his long bony fingers foretold a life of great creativity - hence the painter/pianist prediction. The fingers today are chubby and cant hold a crayon correctly.

A Thinker/Philosopher: 4-5 month old sonny could be found constantly with a finger on the chin ( a la the Thinking Man) - so his grandparents predicted a life of intense thought for him. All he thinks these days is 'at what point is she going to snap? Lets push her a bit more and see'.

A chef/cook: At 16 months (or so): So predicted my MIL when I told her how absorbed sonny could be playing with my pots and pans. He took this one step further by trying to stir up a mean soup in the toilet bowl. All he cooks these days is 'Ma Bheja Fry'

A porter: My prediction as I saw sonny push anything on wheels - anything. This prediction still holds true since we still have remanents of this phase.

A driver at 16: So predicted the bell boy at Sheraton, Montreal as he saw sonny navigate his stroller through the throngs. 'You watch it ma'am, this boy's gonna ask you for a car at 16. He's one of those early drivers.' Phase continues to date - with 2 strollers, one tri-cycle and 1 push cart. And sometimes the chairs. And the rocker.

Heartbreak Specialist: Predicted by moms - taken in by his long eyelashes and the big brown eyes they hide. The heart he knows best to break - is mine.

Drama King: He could give Dilip Kumar a run for his money with his fake 'how can you yell at me - look I'm so cute' smile. Or his 'I know you're going to yell at me - so I'm pretend crying' wail. Predicted jointly by his mom and dad. Phase on-going.

An Explorer: So predicted a father of 4 boys (good heavens - help him) as we waited in the lounge at Doha. Sonny just HAD to pick up every stone they had laid out to decorate the place and turn it around and put it back in place. Father of 4 said 'not all kids do it - my first 3 boys didnt - last one did when was about this age - and to date is the explorer in the family'. Yup, sonny still HAS to put his hand in every nook and cranny - dirtier the better.

And yet at the end of it all - I wish he grows up to be safe, and healthy and happy. And rich - adds hubby!

I've been tagged

2007-09-02T08:12:00.000-04:00

Mad Momma has given me this tag
To let the cat out of the bag
Its one that makes me blush pink
Its about, you know, 'nudge-nudge, wink wink' !

No roses needed nor candle-lights,
No need for wine on starry nights.
Each room brings its own flavor
As days go by, you tend to go braver.

With the fruit of your 'labor' in deep slumber
Nothing else your path to encumber
A touch, a look, no matter night or day
Is all it takes for a roll in the hay!!

Herbivore or Carnivore?

2007-08-27T08:22:00.000-04:00

If there's one debate that stirs up as much passion in the desi community, as maybe the composition of the Indian cricket team - its this. Veggie or Non Veggie?

And I cant understand the reason why. You eat what you like, I eat what I like. Why is it up for public debate??

What peeves me even more is the subtle conversion that people attempt to make. Like this comment I often hear, "you must give your child chicken - how else will he get protein?" Errr sir - you obviously havent heard of soya bean and its protein content. Dal perhaps?. Or this one "veggies have no taste". What? Its chicken that has no taste - thats why you need to smother it with masalas.

Or the other way round, " you people eat meat - see whats happening around the world. Mad cow disease, avian flu.... you meat eaters deserve this!" Really? And do vegetarians deserve genetically modified veggies and pesticides?" No really nobody deserves that. Or "you people eat like animals - you will become like animals". Erm...growl!!! :)

I say, laissez faire!! Lets treat each other like adults - let each one decide what they want to eat. What they want their kids to eat. And let the kids decide for themselves what they want to eat. Like this couple I know come from a very strict veggie family. They have now started eating chicken. However, when their parents come over you're not even supposed to say the C word in their presence.

Ok, parents I still get. You dont want to hurt their feelings. And parents can really guilt trip you all the way to the moon and back. You dont want that.
But your own wife? Hubby and his friend have spent many bachelor evenings together chomping down on KFC. Both bachelors, both had nothing to do in the evenings. Now this guy's wife comes over for dinner (100% veg - cooked by moi) and gives hubby and me the biggest bhashan ever about the merits of veg food. I put on my most innocent expression and say "wow you really are into veg food". She replies, "yes me and my husband truly believe in it. He knows I dont like it - and he wont eat it because it will hurt me". Noble intentions my love. Though hubby still swears that the husband joins him regularly for lunch over a mean piece of lamp chops.

All jokes aside, I have to say this. Being a veggie in the US of A (or any other country) is tough. The food options you have outside are really limited. Only recently has McDonaldds added salads to its menu - though most of them come with chicken additives. I keep hearing about the fries having animal fat content. Even fruit yogurt is not safe - it has gelatin (which is made from animal hooves - yuck!! I know). You really have to plan for food - or carry your own food around. Not all cities have reasonable Indian restaurants serving reasonable Indian food. So its tough. Hats off to you for being so strong!

Edited to add: This one I would regularly hear amongst the desi folks. Our Indian team looses because we cant keep up, strength-wise with these other meat eating teams. You see our bowlers are vegetarian - how will they get the strength?
And I would be itching to add - Srinath and Kumble were the last vestiges of vegetarianism in the Indian team. Dont blame food habits for their losses.

What does one do?

2007-08-27T07:41:00.000-04:00

With gifts that are so evidently unusable.

I have with me - a 20 piece dinner set which has a white centre. There is a 2 inch thick light blue vignette around the edge with dark blue roses on it. The quality of the set is just fine - its Corelle. I dont doubt the gifter's intention. But its just not my style.

Or for that matter - someone has gifted me a tea set. Me! A true blue Bambaiyya who likes to boil her tea with ginger till its golden and robust. I have been given a tea pot, with a sugar bowl and milk pot.

For these two - I hold no grudges. Maybe you didnt know my taste. Or my habits. That I can understand.

What I cant understand is this. A kids night lamp gifted to me - when sonny had 4 more months to spend inside of me - where he didnt need any night lamp. This lady's daughter had just celebrated her 2nd birthday and I know of 1 gift that she didnt use.
Or this one - its an acrylic bowl - with huge flowers painted on it. It is truly grotesque.
Or this show piece. It has a wrought iron kind of holder for a bowl that looks like crushed glass. The label says Manu & Distributed by XYZ India. Obviously someone bought this bowl with her to Canada - all the way from India. I know this woman's taste. She wouldnt have bought it for sure.

So then why do people gift others stuff - that they wouldnt themselves use? The obvious reasoning is - its a pass on gift. You get it from someone, you dont like it, so what do you do? You sit on it tight - till some sucker calls you over for dinner - and bingo - you pass the gift along. Oh yes, you make sure - she and the original gifter dont know each other - or someone might cotton onto your lil game.

I was fretting over these useless pieces that have arrived with the rest of our stuff, to hubby. In a typical Y chromosome style he says, "you have 2 options.
Option 1 - Chuck it. Throw it away. You dont like it - you're not going to use it. Option 2 - Gift it to someone else.
its not worth the time you are wasting thinking about it."

True. But of course neither option is acceptable to me. I am a born hoarder. It wrings my soul to throw away stuff. And for the life of me - I cannot see a day, where I will pass along stuff that I myself dont like.

What do you think I should do? Or maybe its not even wort putting up a post for.

Disgusting

2007-08-25T17:58:00.000-04:00

Has anyone seen this new ad featuring SRK no less. Its an ad for Emami Fair and Handsome. Its supposed to be a beauty cream for men!!! Holy Baloney!!

Yeah yeah I know men do use Fair & Lovely on the sly. I'm told fair men fetch a higher dowry.
But a beauty aid - specifically to get men fair???
And SRK promoting the product. Its differentiator allegedly is - thats its stronger than a 'womans' product and so more effective on the tough skin that men have.

Its not enough that we have ruined several generations of women. Making them believe that beauty (read fairness) and therefore happiness can be got out of a tube. And now we will mess with the minds of the men.

O well, alls fair in love, war and marketing!!

Timing is everything

2007-08-25T17:35:00.000-04:00

There's this saying in Hindi "Samay se pehle aur naseeb se zyaada kuch nahin milta". Loosely translated it means - you will get what is meant for you at the moment it was ordained and as much as it was ordained.

And this statement is sooo true for sonny. His mom can spend days/weeks/months agonizing over something. But he will achieve that milestone - just when the time is right.

After religiously feeding him chicken stock or chicken bits at every meal, meal after meal and watching him spit it out each time. I finally gave up. And one fine day, when I casually put a piece in his mouth - there he was chomping it down.

He wouldnt touch the roti - preferring to eat just his khichdi - until one fine day he started eating just the roti - and abandoning the rice instead.

While all kids his age took their first independent steps at about a year, sonny preferred to wait until he was 15 months old. While his ma agonized and wrung her hands before pediatricians. And that too he waited for the day he knew his father would be out of town on business. For 4 days. And he just casually walked across the room. Turned back and saw his ma slump onto the floor ( o she is dramatic that way). And his father was crushed to know that his son chose this day to take his first steps - when he wasnt around. He's a mean fella - my sonny.

And while kids his age were saying baby words -he decided to keep maun-vrath (do no talking). And one day out of the blue told his father "you stay right here" ( do we hear his mom's echo here?). Just like that and sauntered off. That statement hasnt been repeated again. O and he told a kid at the pool "lets get out and play". While ma has been pleading to get a word out of this boy, some random kid is bestowed with a full sentence. A kid, who doesnt even understand his language. Didnt I tell you he was a mean fella?

So whats the point of this post? Timing. Sonny will do, eat, walk, speak, whatever, just when he wants. Mom can go blogging her woes. Sonny doeth when sonny wish-eth.

And so mommy here is readying herself for another milestone. Toilet training. Again, experts tell you - timing is everything. If he doesnt show readiness - let him be. Try again after a couple of weeks. Let the child decide.
Yeah yeah! I know that. Thats what I've been doing for the past 26 months.

This Virgo thingy

2007-08-25T09:03:00.000-04:00

I have a strange relationship with Virgos. I manage to find them - no matter where I am. Its not like I am a believer of this sun-signs stuff. My sole recollection of Astrology is reading Bejan Daruwalla's weekly predictions in the Sunday Times, back in Mumbai. And that too - just for the heck. It would be forgotten even before breakfast was digested.

But this Virgo thing stuck to me. From the first day that I entered college - I was bench-mates (we shared the same bench/desk :) ) with a Virgo. And its a relationship that stood the test of time. And 16 years is a LOT of time. We've wept on each other's shoulders, jointly cursed the man who was responsible for the current condition, taken many silent walks on beaches - just being there for each other, became the anchor while the other went through a personal crisis, shared each other's good fortunes, bitched about other friends, complained about our moms, shared notes, shared secrets, shared crushes...... you know what I'm talking about.

And I think, she put this Virgo multiplier thingy onto me. Coz no matter where I went thereafter, there was a Virgo to look after me. A motherly Virgo boss, kindred Virgo office mates, Virgo clients...........and the icing to the cake was - a Virgo life partner.
So Aug 22- Sept 21 was a real busy time for me - I kept attending birthday party after birthday party.

So here's to all the Virgos in my life. Patient, meticulous, nit-picking, perfectionists, soft-hearted, emotional, passionate Virgos.

And today - the 2 very very very important Virgos in my life share their birthday. Hubby turns 33 today. And M, one of my dearest, closest, friends turns..... well how does it matter? She's as old as I am and its certainly less than 33 ;)

Happy birthday hubby darling. And happy birthday dearest M. I wish the 2 of you long lasting happiness and the love and companionship of this scatter brained, chaotic, laid-back Gemini for ever and ever (yes you two can never get away from me) ;)

Home is....

2007-08-21T05:26:00.000-04:00

What makes a home?

Is it the place where your home is? As in Mumbai is home for me. No matter what I am doing, if the news report says Mumbai, I rush to hear what it’s about. But I no longer live in Mumbai.

Is it the people you live with, that make your home? So then by that logic, we’ve stayed in some 5 cities in the last 15 months, each should feel like home to us. After all our family was together – and that’s all that should have mattered to get a home-like feeling.

Or is it the things that you have in your home? Your possessions, your belongings. The couch, the dining table, the lamps you fought and bought together. But then aren’t these things materialistic? Couches can break, tables can get old and lamps go out of style – and you get rid of them to get new ones. So, does that mean homes are recyclable? Renewable? Transient?

As I unpacked my belongings, I kept thinking. My table. My lamps. My clothes. Each article has a story. Where we bought it, how we transported it, where we used it, the deal we got on it (how can you forget that ?) Each piece of furniture, each scrap, each itty-bitty thing has a memory attached to it. Memories that we packed away and left in storage for 17 long months while we moved from place to place figuring out where we wanted to be, what we wanted to do.

And then it struck me – memories make up a home.

Memories of the place. The heat or the snow storm. The unusually hot day in Dec – when we took off to Boston Commons and saw the ice rink melt. The cold and windy day, we were to fly to India. The hospital where sonny was born.

Memories of the people you were with. Sonny’s first birthday in Schaumburg, Il. And how we shared his birthday cake with the hotel employees – the only people we knew there. The nurses on duty when sonny was born. The nurse who visited me home to teach me the breast-feeding technique.

Memories of your possessions. The scratch on the table. The stain on the mattress caused as one inexperienced mom tried to change her newborn without using a changing pad.

Yes, I thought – that’s what makes a home. The memories that you knowingly or unknowingly form in each place. With the people you are. With belongings you have.

And I sat down and wept – for each memory. For each place that we’ve left behind. For each belonging that we have re-discovered. For all those people who helped make those memories.

And then got up with a resolve – to create more memories here.
To create a home.

P.S.: The amount of crying I am doing these days – I could give Nirupa Roy a run for her…glycerin bottle :)

Horrible Horrible Ma

2007-08-19T08:25:00.000-04:00

When sonny was born, hubby and I made a pact - no raising our hand on the child. Both of us had parents who believed in 'spare the rod and spoil the child' philosophy and we both knew and understood how humiliating and frightening it is for a child to be caned or slapped.
And one of hubby's friends put it best - You dont need to prove your adult status to your child by showing how physically strong you are, by beating him/her. When you raise your hand on your child you are just taking out your pent up frustration on a lil person who really does not understand why he/she is being so punished.

Well said. And I am writing this down - just to remind myself of the pact I made with my husband and myself.

The last few days have been a whirl of activity. I had to get the furniture from the house we live in picked up. Our own stuff (a 110 pieces - all cartons and furniture put together) got delivered. We had to supervise the unpacking, make note of the damages if any. And even after the packers left we still had about 30 boxes - which contained clothes and kitchenware, etc that needed to be unpacked. And I was full-term PMS-y.

Sonny has been strictly forbidden from touching the AC control panels. Since the ACs are located at his level, he thinks its his God given duty to either shut it off or re-adjust the controls. And so while all this crazy activity of unpacking and putting away happened - he just walked over to the AC and shut it off. So once I reprimanded him "no touching the AC, ok?". He looked at me - and walked away. 2 mins later - AC is off again. Again he was reminded not to touch the AC. The third time he walked over to the AC and was about to touch the off switch, I reached out from behind him, yanked him away and yelled like a maniac, "how many times am I to tell you?......" blah and more blah which I dont remember, but I figure it was on the lines of me being sick and tired of having to put up with him, etc, etc. As I yelled, I saw he yanked his hand free and took his lil chubby hands and covered his cheeks and said "nyah nyah". Which is sonny speak for "no" and just ran away with huge tears in his eyes.

I was stunned at his response because he is quite used to hearing "no" from me - all the time. Mostly, he just ignores me (thats what happens when you say no - way too often). I surmised that perhaps in the past few days I may have slapped him on his cheeks for touching the AC panels. And while I dont even remember it - he remembers it so vividly, that the memory of it brought on the tears. And the urge to cover up his cheeks to prevent another hit.

And now, I feel like crap - even worse. One for raising my hand on my child. And more importantly two - for having no recollection of it.
And I am writing this down - so that I never ever forget this.

Happy Independence Day

2007-08-14T16:52:00.000-04:00

You can take an Indian out of India
But you cant take India out of an Indian

So here's to all my fellow Bharat vaasis....
Happy 60th Independence Day!!!

Any one got any tips?

2007-08-13T06:10:00.000-04:00

I am writing to ask my fellow-moms for any advice they would have on these issues I have.

Issue 1: Colors
How do I teach my sonny colors? He's mastered the alphabets, numbers (1 to 10) and shapes pretty soon. But he just wont learn colors. We have a color book and so I showed him blue, then I asked him "what else is blue?". And I pointed to his pants, "sonny's pants are blue". He understood and so on for the others. That evening when I quizzed him whats blue, he pointed to his pants again. The next day, again whats blue, he points to his pants again. But this time his pants were brown. Obviously he'd assumed, pants were called blue. "No, no I said, your pants are brown". He heard the word brown and ran and pointed to the sofa - which I had termed as brown the previous day. And now when I start to teach him colors - he looks pretty confused.
Is it true then, that boys are color-blind? Or is there a better way to teach them colors?

Issue 2: Stories
We've just purchased 2 story books for sonny. The books he had so far - were really words and pictures. The moment we sit to read - he says no and runs off. Or he wants to turn all the pages and see all the pictures. Its not like he doesnt like stories. I narrated 'lion and the mouse' which he sat still - for 3 mins exactly. And when we ask him "what does a lion do?", he roars back at us. Its just that he wont sit with a book for the story. I'm told this is a phase too. But anyone got any better ideas - coz I just loose it when he start riffling through the pages of the story book (I'm afraid he'll tear the book). I read out the stories in Hindi to him -and I point to the pictures. But thats not helping. Any advice?

Issue 3: Veggies
Dont roll your eyes at the title. I was one of the few moms who could say, "my son eats veggies". Could being the word. When we were in India - he had a bout of loosies - at which his doc asked us to cut back all fiber. We just fed him rice and dal and chicken. Immediately post that we left for riyadh - the hotel didnt have veggies cooked the Indian way - so again no veggies for sonny. By the time we got to a home - a month had passed. He kept refusing veggies and me, pre-occupied with settling down, etc ignored the issue. its been 2 months since - and he still wont eat the same veggies, which he earlier ate with relish.
Jaelithe suggested that kids be allowed to see food - in a context away from eating. So let them play with the food. Good enough. When sonny strolled into the kitchen as I chopped veggies for food - I handed him a piece of capsicum and potato - he promptly put the raw stuff into his mouth and even faster spat them out.
I keep trying to sneak it into his morsel - along with the chicken (which he eats like there's no tomorrow) but he just spits out the entire morsel. So fearing that he wont eat anything, if I keep sneaking veggies into his morsel, I just feed him roti with chicken.
But you know, its not healthy. More importantly, I dont want to 'sneak' in the veggies. I want him to eat it - like he wants to. Like he did earlier.
Anyone got any advice???

Au revoir, Bahrain

2007-08-10T16:54:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow we start on our trip back to Riyadh. After living here for over 3 weeks we head back.

In Bahrain, we've seen the more open, liberated face of the Middle East. Sure, there are women in abayas. But there are equal number of women without them. They drive cars, move about on their own, work and do just as they please.

Although Bahrain, is a small country, its trying its level best to keep up with it's more advanced neighbours. Shopping malls housing international brands, the F1 track, are proud possessions of the Bahraini people. At the same time they are equally at ease with their rich past.

My friend L from Dubai, praises Bahrain's gastronomic delights. And she's right. Indian, Chinese, Mexican, Mid-eastern, Far -Eastern...you name... you got it.

And so with a heavy heart we head back. Back to a place, where I dont feel like eating out. Where the abaya holds strong. And yet this time, I am filled with anticipation for Riyadh. You see, having packed our household belongings we were basically behaving like Bedouins for over 16 months now. Finally, we shipped our stuff to Riyadh and are expecting it to be delivered anytime next week.

And so if you dont hear from me - in the next few days, you know where I will be. Shedding tears, oohing and aahing with and over long lost belongings :)

Ladies Man

2007-08-10T16:16:00.001-04:00

Ever since we've come to Bahrain, sonny's stock seems to have gone up........ with the ladies.
Yeah, you read that right. A 2 year old - has his female following.

Sample this.
It was our first day in Bahrain. I took sonny down to the pool, to burn off some extra energy. Sonny ran to sit at the edge of the pool. A lady swam up to us and asked sonny is he wished to join them in the pool. Stranger anxiety has never ever left sonny and he just ran away from her. We went to the kids pool. A lil girl of about 6 came running to join us there. She tapped sonny on the head, kissed him on his head, tummy, arms.....like sonny was her own sibling. She wanted to play with him, but as usual sonny ran away from her. But she continued to meet sonny everyday - in the same fashion, smothering him with kisses, tickling him, trying to play with him.

A few days later, we were joined by M. M is an expert swimmer and she'd dive under the water and kiss sonny's feet there. She'd beg me to let sonny go with her into the adults pool. If you havent already guessed - I acted like the mean mom and refused to let sonny go there. Between M and H, sonny had a whale of a time. If H refused something, he'd go to M and vice versa.

Then there was R. R's father and hubby work together and the kids play together. When we leave, R runs after sonny wanting to give him a good-bye kiss. Shy sonny runs and hides behind his ma. She keeps chasing him around. And we'd joke about 'who is the girl and who is the boy, here?'

If he had a fan following at the hotel, outside the hotel was no better. We'd gone to Applebees for dinner. The waitress fussed over sonny, trying to play with him. Then she said, "what a good looking boy. will you marry me? I'll wait for you, ok?" We laughed over this - till the end of dinner. She got us the check and said "atleast tell me your name, how will I know who I am waiting for?"

I thought we'd heard enough. So I wrote this post and saved the draft, wanting to publish it later. We took sonny down to his 'adda' - the pool.
This time there was a new girl - Y. This 3 year old defined the word 'coquetry'. She looked at sonny out of the corner of her eye, and then purposefully stepped out of the pool. "Sonny, sonny, sonny" she called out. And sonny, the kid with stranger anxiety would start yelling to be picked out of the pool. Once out he would chase her around. She would run, blowing him kisses. he'd get tired and stop chasing her - so she'd start chasing him. It was good fun to watch Romeo and Juliet in action. All was well - until H arrived at the scene and saw sonny frolicking with a new friend. So she jumps into the action - so we have sonny chasing Y and H chasing sonny. H decides she's had enough. Sonny has to choose who he wants to play with. If not, "I'm leaving" she announces. And flounces off. Y's mom and I are in splits now.
Peace prevails when Y's mom hauls her away and H and sonny go back to play.

And as hubby's sis put it, "STS, you got to see your son's first courtship, first hand. how many moms can say that?"

Shaitaan ka naana!

2007-08-08T07:36:00.000-04:00

I dont know how else to translate the title, except to say that its a term usually applied to a very mischievous person.

A few days ago, I posted about how sonny was making sure I wasn’t short on excitement.

Here’s another one of his ‘doings’.

The place we stay in is centrally air-conditioned. Every few hours, I throw open a window – just to let fresh air in. I live in my self-formed belief, that central air-conditioning means you keep breathing in stale air – and hence the need for fresh air.

Anyways, I was in the kitchen (as usual) when I saw sonny going through the dust bin. Sonny’s future as a jamaadar (waste collector) was clear in my eyes. Sonny picked up an empty juice container and proceeded to play with it. He walked out of the kitchen with the jar.

It was all quiet for a while, so I went to check on him. Found him standing under one of the open windows, stretching himself, on his toes to reach out. Sonny is 3 feet tall and the window is at 4 feet – so he really has to stretch. Turns out, sonny had one of hubby’s slippers in his hands and was making an all out bid to throw it out of the window. He protested loudly when I grabbed it from his hands.

I turned to look for the other slipper. Didn’t find it anywhere in the house. Mother’s instinct made me look out. And there it was the second slipper on the ground floor, right beneath our window. Lying next to it – was the empty juice container. Loud shrieks followed – mine on unearthing one more of sonny’s ‘doings’ and sonny’s at the frantic activity that followed to rush down and claim the slipper – before one of the alert housekeeping staff trashes it.

I need not add – that these days I open the windows only when sonny has his naps.

The next day, hubby and I were in the midst of a discussion, when sonny was found missing. We found out, he’d grabbed hubby’s slippers again and was making the rounds of the windows to ascertain which one was to be used to throw the slippers out.

O this boy!!!!

Close Shave

2007-08-05T16:05:00.000-04:00

Sonny has been climbing onto couches and chairs for about a year now. Mostly it is get a toy or a book - or to get to the phone, which is absolutely NOT allowed to touch. Most of it seemed pretty harmless, so we didnt bother. Besides Parent Center keeps sending you weekly/monthly reminders of what developmental milestones to expect - so one is prepared.

This afternoon, I was pottering around in the kitchen, when I heard a distinct 'crinkle crash'. Of glass. My heart lurched because the place we are staying in has a glass topped coffee table, 2 glass topped side tables and a glass topped dinner table. I ran out to see - sonny had climbed onto the chair and then onto the glass topped dinner table. He'd picked up the water glass lying on the table (mommy, do your housework!!!) and had banged the glass onto the table - thus breaking it into pieces.
As if that was not enough, he had picked up one of the glass shards and was about to.......I really dont know what further plans he had. I shrieked my highest pitched shriek, momentarily distracting him from his task. As nimbly as I could, I extracted the piece of glass from his hand. And he pulled it right back. I could now see visions of blood everywhere. But no. God must love me - coz nothing happened. I shrieked even more high pitched (I am pretty sure some dog somewhere must have responded). Picked up a tantrumy sonny and strapped him into his high chair. It was a full minute before my hands stopped shaking and I disposed off the glass pieces.
Of course when I told hubby what his 'laadla' (pet) had been up to, hubby had his most characteristic reply, "STS, what was the glass doing on the table? Arent we(go ahead, say YOU) supposed to clear the table after lunch?" Grrrrrrr....
Looks like hubby needs to be put in his naughty corner!!!!

Whats your take?

2007-08-05T08:26:00.000-04:00

Parent Center has posed this interesting dilemma.

You have a friend - who wants to get pregnant. Her husband, is opposed to the idea of starting a family. So your friend, on the sly, goes off her contraception.

And what do you know - she gets pregnant - of course its called the 'oops pregnancy'. Your friend and her husband agree to go ahead with the baby after all.

Would you support your friend's action?

Do tell!!!

Mother's Instinct

2007-08-02T17:31:00.000-04:00

Usha writes this really heart wrenching post about a girl, who admitted that she was being abused by her uncle. Instead of providing her some help, her parents labeled her a liar and attention seeker. Not just that, they withdrew her from the school and took her back home – where I shudder to think what fate awaited her.

When I read the post, my greatest angst was against the girl’s mother. I felt as a mother, she should have understood. As a mother of a child, especially a girl child, one of her first duties was to protect the girl. Protect her from the dangers that lurked in the world and in her own house. And I’m not talking out of my hat, I talk from experience.

We were shopping for winter coats for the family last year. Hubby was in the males section, while I had sonny in his stroller with me in the females section. I moved to another aisle, sonny still in my line of sight. Then I heard a voice say “hello handsome. How are we doing today?” I don’t know what it was – but all the hair in my body just stood on end. I jumped into the aisle where a man was bent over sonny’s stroller.

He saw me and straightened, smile on his face. “hey mommy”, he said. “we’re just getting to be friends”. I made some small talk about how sonny was in the way and I was just moving him away. “no no” he said, sonny was not in any way. “Go on shop. I’ll keep an eye over him.” Pretty innocent, right? But I don’t know what it was, the alarm bells just rang non-stop in my head. I made some lame excuse about just looking around. Told him, hubby would need his help, if at all. After that, I just stayed in the center of the shop. He came and went, helping hubby and some other shoppers. At no point did I leave sonny out of hands reach, even for a moment.
As hubby cashed out, he made some small talk. Then he said, “its too sad, my son was just here, and he’s about as old as your son. They could have been friends”. I still could not shake off the feeling that there was something wrong about the guy. Told hubby about it who laughed at my weird irrational fear. “It has no base”, he said, “except your maternal instinct”.

Yes, that’s what it ought to be – maternal instinct. One that each mother feels for her off spring. And I guess that’s what keeps our children from harm. It was just a feeling I had, but I decided not to ignore it. Nothing came of it. But then I keep asking myself “what if?”. What if I wasn’t as hyper and if something had happened to sonny. There are enough loonies in the world to ruin a child’s life forever. No matter what the situation, its best to err on the side of caution. So I hung onto sonny’s stroller acting exceptionally tight-assed with what may have well been a friendly store assistant. Or may be, I managed to fend off some psycho.

10 months down the line, I dont know if I’d call myself a cautious mom or a crazed lunatic who thinks the world is out to get her child. On a completely different tangent I often wonder if my super cautious attitude is rubbing off on sonny too (but that’s grist for another post). I suppose, till he is under my care (or as my mom would put it – under my roof) I will keep looking out for him ( o who am I kidding – I’ll be looking out for him – even when I am 6 feet under).

But seriously though I’d rather live and laugh about how manic I was than live in regret all my life for not having been cautious enough.

Buffet Rules

2007-08-01T08:21:00.000-04:00

I’m not a very large eater and yet I love the concept of a buffet. SO many dishes, one flat price – who wouldn’t like to eat at one. And yet to fully enjoy a buffet, one needs to have a strategy – to do – poora paisa vasool (full value for money).

Here’s my strategy:

1. Never go to a buffet if you are in a rush. A buffet for a working lunch just doesn’t work. You need at least 2-3 hours to do justice to a buffet.

2. Wear a comfort fit trousers. One that can stretch with the tummy. A la Joey in Friends (who wears Phoebe’s pregnant trousers to attend Monica’s Thanksgiving dinner). Better still wear a salwar khameez. The drawstring in the salwar can be loosened at will.

3. Skip the soup. Soups typically are meant to line up your stomach. But they also fill up the stomach pretty fast, leaving little space for the rest of the stuff.

4. Go easy on the salads. Although very wholesome and healthy, they too fill you up pretty fast. And as my aunt-in-law admonished me at my wedding reception, “ghaas poos ghar pe khaana. This is no time to chew a piece of cucumber.”

5. Before you fill your plate, do a quick scan of the items on the table. Just so you know what all there is on offer. SO you know what to pounce on.

6. Skip the breads (naan, parathas, rotis) and rice: Why bother trying to fill your tummy with these when there are other things on offer. Of course the strategy might not work, if there are curries and dals on offer and you skip the rice.

7. Choose what you eat with care. Why bother with the potato bhaji when there is avial on offer?

8. Take a look at the desserts. Rock hard gulab jamuns and down in the dumps kheer are not worth leaving valuable tummy space.

9. A lot of buffets include free beverages. We all know that gassy drinks take up more tummy space. Skip them. Stick with water – tiny lil sips of water.

10. Learn from the veterans. The ones who are taking second servings. They’ve already tasted the stuff and are going for the stuff they’ve liked in round 2.

So fuming mad

2007-07-30T07:51:00.000-04:00

We've just returned from the pool and I am so fuming mad.

To begin - at the begining. The apartment hotel that we stay in - has one main pool and one kids pool. Since there isint much space for sonny to burn off his excess energy - I take him to the pool every evening. A few weeks ago - he'd slipped and fallen in the pool at Riyadh. Since then he's been really scared of the waters (expectedly). But since we've gotten here, he seems to love the pool.

Usually there are a lot of kids playing in the pool. Since the kids pool has only 2 feet of water its really the tiniest of tots that play here. Which is good for me - coz sonny feels really threatened with the bigger kids.

This evening a family with 4 kids (good lord!!) got into the pool. Mom in abaya sat on the side and watched the maid help the kids into their swimming paraphernalia. I have not seen a more boisterous bunch than them - no really I havent. They whooped and screamed and dived ...into a 2 feet pool, hurting themselves and whooping some more. I know, I know, kids should enjoy themselves, as they please. But I am so mad - so bear with me.

All this banshee behaviour and sonny was clinging onto me like a creeper. With great difficulty I'd get him in the pool and the boys would begin jumping, splashing waster onto him and sonny would run like crazy and I'd get major heart attacks, expecting him to slip any moment. Something caught my eye and turned to look at the girl a lil closely. What do you know - she has a runny nose and the snot is running freely. She wipes it off with her hand...and...holy baloney washes her hand ...in the frickin pool. The same damn pool in which there are other kids swimming. Not once but thrice.

I didnt know what to do. Should I speak to her mom and remind her that we do wish to share her daughter's viruses? Or should I be really bitchy and tell her - that if kids are sick, they should not be with other kids. Or show her how to wipe her daughter's nose with a tissue.
Nevertheless, I hauled sonny out of the pool and took him home.Fuming all the way home.

I've cooled down a bit now, but I wonder. What is the PC behavior for this? Of course, I made all sorts of inane comments to hubby about 'paisa but no manners'.

Should it happen again - whats the best way to deal with it?

Edited to Add:
Looks like I am not the only mom to think of pool etiquette. CNN yesterday carried a news article about how 'responsible' parents should behave at the pool. Hygiene experts recommend asking your kids every half hour if they need to use the washroom (because kids can forget while playing). MOthers with kids in swim diapers should check their diapers regularly in case the child has had a bowel movement. Kids with illnesses should not use the general pool area (for fear of passing infections). No changing clothes in the open - even for the smallest of kids. And more.
Of course there were the usual parents (like me) who complained about others not maintaining hygiene at the pool. And the recommendation was the speak to the parent of the child concerned.

Change - the only constant

2007-07-29T08:58:00.000-04:00

It all began innocuously enough. With Archie Comics – a Double Digest at that. As kids this was one piece of reading that was seriously frowned upon. My mother called it ‘trash’. As we grew older, we discovered more stuff that was soon classified as trash too – like Cosmo and Mills & Boon. But I digress. The compound library is fairly well stocked with fiction and as I later discovered with magazines and comics too. I felt a familiar wave of teenage nostalgia and I grabbed 2 comics.

That evening I put sonny to bed and curled up with the first of my comic books. As I flipped page after page, I just wasnt getting hooked onto Archie’s antics. As a matter of fact I found him shallow and ridiculous. Even Jughead, my fav character just didn’t whet my appetite for further reading. Betty, seemed less like the simple girl next door and more like a doormat and Ronnie who I’d always disliked was the only character who showed some – well – character.

With a lot of effort I managed to finish the first comic. I put my lack of appreciation to tiredness, fatigue, distraction – after all it was the end of the day. Maybe if I read it another time – the old magic would re-work itself.

I next picked up – John Grisham’s King of Torts. Grisham was one author, that I liked to read. Although his novels usually centered on courts and lawyers (except perhaps for The Painted House), I found him pretty good. I hadn’t read a Grisham in the last 3 years. I hadn’t read beyond ‘Da Vinci Code’ in the last 2 years (sad, I know). The King of Torts is in the Grisham genre of lawyers, yet it just didn’t hold me – I found it moralizing, sermonizing, at times just unbelievable. Yes, Grisham always has victory of good – over the corporates (read evil) yet this one was confused. Maybe I was confused. It took me a full week to finish this one – and even then I skipped a lot of pages and speed read the end (which really means I read every alternate para).

Then I wondered, what the hell was going on? It couldn’t be – that I was bored of reading. I still read the papers, a few magazines and a whole lot of blogs.

“You’ve grown up! Finally! Things change, people change” said hubby. That’s what I was worried about. Do people change so much that a lot of things which they take for granted or take as basic don’t hold true anymore? I mean your interest in reading is pretty strong, right? That cant change.

Then came this post by Tamil Punkster which The Mad Momma followed up with her version. TP talks about why marriage is so out for her and TMM talks about why marriage works for her. While reading and commenting on both, I realized that things that we hold as sacrosanct as youngsters (and now that I’m across 30 – I’m not one) probably start losing relevance as you grow up. Because other things start taking precedence and holding more importance to you.

I’ve always planned that I would have a child before I hit 30 and that within a year, I would be back at my job. The baby would be taken care of by a good nanny and I’d have my mom over to supervise the nanny. My mom is supervising a nanny – except the kid is not mine. Its my brother’s child. And here I am hundreds of miles away, being a housewife and taking care of sonny myself. What about my job? I chucked it 3 years ago. We’d been married for 6 months – hubby in Canada and me in Mumbai both holding our jobs and both being extremely unhappy. So I said good-bye to a job I loved and moved to Canada to be with hubby, with a man I loved and to start a family of my own. But then the choice was mine – and the choice really was – what made me happier? Sure I loved the job, but I guess I loved the man more.

A similar dilemma presented itself again – when I got the ‘I want a job’ pangs. I received an offer from an ad agency. Except that they were based in Dubai. Which meant I would have to split the family again. And this time – there was sonny to take care of too. Would I want the job and keep the father and son away? Probably seeing each other – once in 2 months with hubby missing out on all his daily antics. Was I ready to be a single parent for all practical purposes? Was I ready to be away from hubby – for a second time in our 3 years of married life? Sure I wanted the job, but I wanted the family even more so.

So yes, as a working woman there were things that I wanted – that I thought were non-negotiable, Yet time and circumstances made them the less ‘wanted’ objects. And all these transitions, decisions, choices, were made without too much angst. You instinctively knew what was the right thing to do.

So coming back to the original question. Does a person change so much over time, that things he/she holds sacrosanct looses relevance? Do circumstances play such a big role that valued objects lose their value? And then when you sit down and think about it – you don’t even think its such a big deal that you’ve made such a huge change in your thinking or plans?

Does that make you easily adaptable (which is a plus)? Or does it mean that you weren’t pretty strong in your original intent anyways (Uh-huh)?

Or does it mean – that finally you’ve become an adult, in its true sense. That you have the clarity of vision to see what you have and what you want in the long run. To put your ego aside and say “I may have wanted this but this is what I will need in the long run”. And yes, it means foregoing what was held as dear. To stand steadfast to the decisions even when others doubt you. To take what you’ve been served – even if its not to plan and devise a new plan around it.

Perhaps it does.

And who knows a few years down the line, even this will seem part of a bigger better plan/picture. I’m going to end this post with Ruyard Kipling’s If. Its apiece I have always loved. Everytime I read it – it fills me with fresh vigor and intent. I used to have it pinned up on my soft board at work. Must take a printout and put it on my fridge.

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

To School or Not to School?

2007-07-26T09:23:00.000-04:00

I know all moms of 2 year olds go through this phase of thinking. Mad momma wrote a post on it. So did kodi’s mom. Rohini wrote about how Ayaan was taking well to her decision. And itchy was waiting to have a word with art about it. Tharini the veteran has already had a successful run with Winkie.

I’m talking about sending your pre-schooler to well – pre-school. Its just that time when you realize that your li un has to move out of your protective shadow and make his first foray into the world outside. Will he adjust to it? Will he like it? How will it impact you?

I was happy when I was told that the compound that we live in has a professionally managed preschool, literally 6houses away from mine. That solved a lot of transportation related problems for me.

Before I even visited the pre-school, I knew why I wanted to send him to one:

Sonny is socially reticent. To an extreme. The word wall flower falls short. He sticks to his Ma till he soaks in the environment and then he walks away with his stroller to an isolated corner – and will keep running around, pushing his stroller till he is tired to bits. No child, no adult, no game and certainly no food is of any interest. I wanted him to get some social skills, be with other kids.
I hoped that the time he was away, I would get a couple of hours to be with myself. My time.

That’s it. No great expectations in the learning department or memorizing department. All that would come later.

With some trepidation, I made an appointment with the pre-school. And checked against each of the criteria I had.

Big open, tree covered play area. Good
Mid –morning snack taken in the open play area, supervised by the teachers and the helpers. Good
Smaller class rooms – with 15 odd kids per class. Iffy.
Children seem happy. Good. One kid actually kept interrupting our conversation because he wanted to kiss his teacher. Thrice. He sure must be happy there.

And then they began telling me the rules and regulations for the school.

School begins at 8am upto 1pm. That’s 5 hours, for a 2 year old. Sounded a bit too much.
The preschool has a uniform. A uniform – for a 2 year old. Holy Christ – whats next??
The child must carry a sandwich, a box of cut fruits/veggies, a pack of milk/juice and a can of water everyday. He will be made to finish this during the mid-morning break. Hurray! Finally someone can get food into sonny.
The child will have to self-feed. By this time I was laughing. Sonny? Prince sonny? Self-feeding? O this will be one long school day, if they wait for sonny to eat on his own.
The child must be toilet trained. Uh-huh! Lazy mommy get off your butt and toilet train your 2 year old!!
No child with a sickness is allowed in school – if you send your sick child, you will be called and asked to pick him/her up. That’s a relief to know.

I started telling the director that sonny spoke very little. Certainly none of it was English. We have been very particular about speaking our mother tongue with him. English he was bound to pick up sooner or later. Oh, she said thoughtfully, that’s going to be a problem. Problem? Here I was waiting for a pat on my back for sticking to my roots, instilling love for the mother-tongue, etc. Why is it a problem? She suggests I stop speaking in my mother-tongue and start speaking in English with sonny at home. I look at her, as if she’s lost her head. She says, if you want your child to learn English faster you should be willing to help. If speaking in the mother tongue is so important, speak the same thing twice over – once in the native tongue and once in English. By this time, I have lost my patience, with the lady. I want to point out to her that the Chinese, the Japanese, the Spaniards, the French, the Germans and more than half the goddamn world studies in their native tongue and learns English only after they go to high school. And it’s not like I’m anti-English, I just more pro-Urdu! I thank her and leave.

Over the next few weeks, I meet a lot of other moms who are sending their kids to the same pre-school. Turns out one of the kids doesn’t speak English too. His mom, is as crazy as I am about retaining the mother tongue. But the child has managed to pick up English just by going to school. And no one asked her to speak bi-lingual at home. Another mom, says her kid is not toilet trained. And yet the school has accepted the kid without a comment. A third mother agrees, her son is also “in Pampers” as she calls it.

So now I’m wondering - if the rules mean nothing at all to them. If so, why have them? And now I’m filled with all sorts of doubts about the school. What kind of place makes rules and breaks them selectively? What other rules will they make and break at will? Am I ok with sending sonny here? Hell, whats the alternative? I cant send him outside the compound we live in. So what choice does that leave me with?

So as of this week, sonny’s not going to any pre-school, at least this autumn semester. I believe I have sufficient reason, to keep the apple of my eye, close to me, for the next 4 months. Logical, rational reasons. Nothing to do, with me having big time separation anxieties. Or me being such a sucker for sonny’s tears that the thought of them – makes me melt. Or the fact that I cannot bear the thought of not having a chirpy babbler following me around. Or the fact, that I hate to admit that my lil baby has grown up and now needs people other than his mom. The fact that my life totally revolves around sonny’s activities. And if he’s going to be away for 5 hours each day….what am I going to do? Or am I?

This decision has been pushed until Oct. After that lets see if mom and son have the stomach to stay away from each other.

Judgment Day

2007-07-25T16:33:00.000-04:00

Getting there now tagged me to do a post on the things or people or attitudes that I judge. Here's my take on it.

Those mothers who are otherwise fit and able and yet have a maid to look after their babies – I judge you (again nothing to do with SAHMs or WOHMs)
If you are an Indian immigrant – and if I see you smooching in full public view in the Western Hemisphere – I judge you.
All those women whose conversation skills do not extend beyond what they cooked, can cook, look forward to cook – I judge you.
Those men – who incessantly talk about how well their moms cook, could cook – I judge you.
People who bitch behind other’s back – I judge you. I reckon if you can bitch behind other’s backs, the moment I turn my back, you’ll be bitching about me too.
If you talk about always wearing/using branded stuff, I judge you. To me – you need a brand’s personality to prop up your lack of one.
When you are called to someone’s place and you fail to show appreciation to the hostess – I judge you. If you don’t like the food, appreciate the décor, or the kids or the home – surely you will find something to appreciate.
You dont manage a basic thank you, sorry, please to those below you/lesser than you – I judge you, especially if you are all manners and kindness in front of your peers.
If you keep putting down or insulting your spouse, your child, your MIL/DIL in front of others – I judge you big time.
If I see you make no efforts towards ensuring that your child is not a general nuisance – I judge you.
If you’re a Bachchan – I will judge you. I know this one is ridiculous – but no one said I was perfectly rational.
If as a man you’ve walked out of a marriage, leaving behind kids – I judge you. If a woman walks out of a marriage – I say probably the reason was big enough for her to take this drastic step.

Go ahead, judge me!!

Ahhhhhhh!!

2007-07-22T17:37:00.000-04:00

That, ladies and the few gentlemen who frequent this blog, is how one breathes in the air of openness, of freedom and of relief.

Hubby was deputed to help out a fellow project manager in Bahrain, and sonny and I have tagged along. I shall bore you with my observations of this place for the next couple of weeks.

We drove from Riyadh to Manama (which is the capital of the Kingdom of Bahrain). It’s a 4 hour drive, cutting through the desert and finally reaching the port city of Dammam and then onto the magnificent twin bridges that link Saudi Arabia to this island state.

While we have made many, many drives across the US, the drive here was – well different. For one, we had a driver, who knew the routes. A far cry, from me trying to interpret hubby’s GPS and ‘trying’ to navigate while hubby yelled and drove at the same time. I am directionally challenged and instructions such as ‘after 100 feet turn sharply right’ make no sense to me – for I have look down at my hands to know that the one with the mole is the right hand – and so oh!! we have to turn this way – and by the time I know what to do – the turn has passed. So this time – we drove in peace.

The roads surprisingly were in excellent shape – 3 lanes each way – there was ample space to let the lunatics race away while we kept a steady 140kmph. The official speed limit for the highways is 120kmph, though it was not hard to spot the ones who did 180 or even 200. Not surprisingly, as usual, one saw a lot of accidents. And a lot of deserted vehicles.

The roads cut through the desert and the beauty of the surroundings would be far greater if the sides were not littered with worn out tires. Speed and heat had caused an untimely death for literally thousands of tires scattered all through the length of the highway. And yet, the sand dunes, the harshness of the environs, the lack of trees the relentless sun beating down all created a strangely romantic ambience.

And if you thought sand was well – after all – sand, you couldn’t have been more wrong. I saw alteast 6 shades of sand. From the ivory white sand, to the ash blond, the dirty blond, muddy brown, the maroonish red to the grey-ish sand – the landscape just kept changing colors – and yet nothing changed beyond that. I have yet to see the famed blue sands of the Farakka Desert in Egypt (where the song Suraj Hua Madham from Kuch Kuch Hota Hai was shot).

My visions of seeing camels stroll past us leisurely - were all put to rest, since most of them were taking their siesta then. I barely saw a dozen camels and they too were merrily munching on the few available leaves. And I definitely didnt see any Bedouins. So much for my romantic illusions. We were hit momentarily by a bank of sand - but no sand storms - thank God!

It took an hour to clear customs at Bahrain. I later found out that while hubby and sonny had been issued a 2 week visa, me being poor Indian was issued only a 7 day visa. And while their visa cost us 5 Dinars each, mine cost 12. WTF!!!!

That aside, Bahrain seems to be nice place. No abaya – so I’m quite glad. I routinely see abaya clad women drive around and its such a welcome change to see female receptionists and waitresses. Lots of Indians and Sri Lankans here – so Indian stuff seems to be readily available.

The only minus – is that – inspite of being born and brought up in humid Mumbai – now whenever I reach a place with high humidity my hair just frizzes out. While the image of Monica from Friends keeps looming before my eyes (in the episode where they all go to this resort where Ross and Charlie have a conference and Mike proposes to Phoebe) - I hope keeping it tied down till it gets used to the place will be a better alternative than getting Monica-like braids :)

Whatever happened to...

2007-07-17T07:42:00.000-04:00

Anu Agarwal – Remember her? The Aashiqui girl? She did a series of forgettable movies like Khalnayika and just vanished. I hear she had a really bad accident and has since retired from public view.

Rahul Roy – And where is he? He too hung onto the coat tails of the Bhatt camp and did a few movies like Phir Teri Kahani Yaad Aayi. I heard he was turning director. But I guess out of sight is out of mind.

Ayesha Dharker – She last did Terrorist and hasn’t been seen since. I miss her on the silver screen.

Antara Mali – Her I do not miss. Last seen in a forgettable movie called Naanch with Abhishek Bachchan. The only thing I remember about this movie – is that he boob size changed with every shot.

Mamik – Aamir Khan’s bhaiyya(big bro) in Jo Jeeta Wahi Sikandar and Preity Zinta’s bhaiyya in Kya Kehna. Looks like no one wants a good looking bhaiyya anymore.

Aziz Mirza – He’s made some really good films like Yes Boss. He was a partner with SRK and Juhi Chawla to form Dreamz Unlimited – they made Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani. I wonder whats happened to him.

Minu, Sonia Singh, Rini Khanna nee Simon – Does anyone remember these English newsreaders for Doordarshan? They were so good. Sometimes I think I watched the news just to see and hear them read government propaganda.

Siddharth Basu – How can you forget the quiz master of Quiz Time? Charming, such good diction, always in control…..o I could go on. I saw him do a few Quiz Time spin-offs, but with the advent of satellite TV, e just faded away somewhere.

Ayesha Jhulka – She was such a fine actress. Hopes of marriage with Armaan Kohli led her to give up her film career – and he never married her. I last saw her do 2 bit bhabhi roles in movies.

Meenakshi Sheshadri – Do you remember this icemaiden of the 80s. Such a fine actress. I’m told she got married and wants to have nothing to do with the public eye now.

Madhu – Or Roja as we knew her – another fine actress. I don’t know if she’s still doing anything down South.

Jugal Hansraj – This Masoom kid was last seen in family friend Yash Chopra’s Mohabbatein. Wonder what he’s up to now?

Mamta Kulkarni, Sonu Walia, Somy Ali – and scores of other bimbettes blown in by the wind…..now scattered who knows where.

Farooque Shaikh – O I had such a huge crush on this guy – in all those funnies with Deepti Naval. Last seen doing ‘Jeena Isi ka Naam hai’ on Zee TV – and that was last year, I think. Where is he now?

If anyone has more public/media personalities to add – feel free…. These are all I could think of.

Maid in Riyadh

2007-07-15T16:42:00.000-04:00

The first time I took sonny to the indoor play area, I was hoping to meet a few moms & get sonny introduced to a few kids his age. The sight that met my eyes left me baffled. Sure there were scores of kids running around, but no moms. There were scores of nannies. Nannies of all kinds. One group of South East Asians huddled in this corner, another group of sub-Saharan Africans chatting in the other, a few Indian sub-continent ones sprinkled for good measure. Where are all the moms, I wondered.

A couple of moms I did manage to see, were just dropping off kids to one practice or the other and rushing off to meet their ‘girl friends’ for coffee or at the gym. Super, I thought. This is life.

As a child of a working woman, my experience with nannies or ayahs or bais as we called them wasn’t pleasant. We’d seen our share of good nannies and bad ones, more bad ones than good. Ones that caned us kids, ones who ate up food meant for us, ones who couldn’t care less whether we lived or died. To my prejudiced eye, nannies could do nothing right.

I saw a nanny push relentlessly in the swing, the 11 month old in her care, till he cried nonstop. Or the time I saw a nanny escort a child out of the play area. She stopped to chat with another of her fellows. As I passed them, I saw the child was bleeding from his nose (a common occurrence in this part of the world, I’m told). Hey, I yelled, he’s bleeding. Yeah she replied nonchalantly, I have to take him home and get some ice. I better go. As I watched agape, she hugged and kissed her fellow mate and slowly sauntered off with the child in tow. I was even more pissed when I saw the mother of the child sitting with her younger child, at one of the birthday parties organized there. Obviously, while I was getting all hyped off, the 2 care takers had other important things on their plates.

Was it my imagination or were the kids generally more badly behaved when the nanny was around? Maybe their mothers wouldn’t take their shitty behavior and poor nanny had no option. Then again, wouldn’t a mother want to supervise her child at play? I believe sonny and I have the best of times when we saunter around in the compound picking up stones and dried leaves and pointing out at flowers or birds. If the mommy was working, I could still understand, but hey, most women here don’t work.

Why would you leave your child with the hired help? Especially since there is no effort required on your part, but to stand and supervise your child running around or playing on the swing or the slide. This is what I would call ‘quality time’. Why pay someone else to do it for you? I guess I would never understand their mind-set.

Meanwhile, as I saw these women every day, I began to see the persons behind the uniforms. Like B, our first household help. Charming, forever smiling and full of energy. In her mid 40s she works for atleast 10 hours each day, sometimes 12. She has 3 kids between the ages of 21 and 16 and right now, she’s willing to move heaven and earth to get her eldest son a visa to come and work here. As a driver. She works 4 hours each in 2 houses, then cooks for another lady and sometimes baby sits for another lady. And then goes home and cooks and cleans for her husband. I don’t know, when she has last seen her children, for she hasn’t gone back home for at least 2 years.

Or K, our current help. She already has one full day job, but free lances for me – just to earn the additional few riyals. In her mid 20s she hasn’t seen her 5 year old since a year. She was married for 2 weeks when she got her visa to Kuwait. To work as a household help. She worked for 2 years, went back to Sri Lanka and had a baby. When her son was 2 she got her next visa. So she left her son with husband and mother in law and winged it to KSA. When I asked her, if she would like to be paid monthly or weekly, she laughingly replied, “o monthly mam. If you pay me daily, I’ll just go and buy phone cards to call my son in Sri Lanka”. Her answer just tore my heart.

Its no wonder that she just showers so much love on sonny, hugging him and kissing him, whenever she can. Hard hearted boy that he is, he just brushes her off. I often wonder if she sees he son – when she sees sonny.

And these aren’t stray cases. Every maid, nanny here has a similar story. Of children left behind, in families’ care while they strive to earn a few bucks. To get their kids a better life. Of husbands and wives being apart for years on end. Working, chasing a dream.

And if you thought, these women have a tough life, consider this. One of the drivers here, was returning home, late at night, when he got a flat tire. So he put on his flashers and stopped to change the tire. A trailer coming that way, didn’t see him and ran him over. He didn’t even make it to the hospital. He hadn’t been home in 4 years. This summer, which is vacation time here, he’d gotten permission to go home. There were 2 weeks to his vacation. His ticket was ready, he’d bought gifts for his 4 young ones and was getting set to head home. Destiny willed otherwise.

And then I thank God for his blessings. For making sure my family is together. For making sure we don’t undergo such hardships. Minor irritants, like abaya, female segregation, etc somehow doesn’t seem all that bad after all.

Sonny's Antics

2007-07-13T08:17:00.000-04:00

I’ve realized I’ve ended up passing around my depression – by writing a bit too much about life here. For a change I’m going to write about sonny :)

My own Shabri:
The Ramayan tells of the story of Shabri. Shri Ram was to visit her ashram in the jungle and she wanted to serve only the choicest, ripest, sweetest fruits and berries to him. So she bit into each one of them to ensure only the sweetest ones were served to him. Of course, Shri Ram realized the extent of her ‘bhakti’. My own lil Shabri here is sonny – he takes a bite of the chicken and/or veggies then removes it from his mouth and promptly offers it to me. My vehement nos are disregarded and it is stuffed into my mouth. If I am far away and he cant reach my mouth – he simply tosses it onto the floor – from where I have to rescue the poor food.
Hubby’s take, of course, is – its either your mouth or the bin.

Aye Taa:
That’s what passes off in sonny land for “yeh kya?” or whats this? Every lil thing – is questioned. Especially cars – each time a car passes I have to offer some comment on it ‘grey car’ or ‘chevrolet tahoe’ or ‘white pick-up’. And you can well imagine the speed with which I have to speak on highways – trying to keep up the descriptions as cars whiz by us. Each stationary car is touched and I have to name each part – headlights, tail lights, number plates, the works.

Books:
Sonny has fallen for books on the rebound. I just have to say ‘lets read’ and he just races across the room into my lap – ready to read anything that has pictures in it – including the newsletter that the compound sends us. Everyday, n number of times a day – and sonny is still not tired. Every time he does that – I send up a silent prayer for his renewed love for books.

The Student becomes the Teacher:
One good investment, we’ve made, is a black board, cum white board from Ikea. So I write alphabets and numbers – and he says ‘aye taa’ and I say them aloud for him. To check if he’s understood – I ask him ‘where’s B?’ and he points it out or ‘where’s F?’ and he’ll point out. So I presumed he was getting the alphabets. A few days ago – I made some drawings – and sat down to check my mail. I kept hearing ‘aye taa’ in the background – and would look up to answer. Laziness struck after a while and kept repeating house or sun. The ‘aye taa’ become sharper almost strict, I mumbled sun again – and an aye taa accompanied by the sound of chalk hitting the black board told me – he was asking about something else. So now he quizzes me about alphabets and numbers. If I’m wrong – the aye taa is repeated. Third time wrong the aye taa is sharp and strict and I hear the chalk hitting the board. Guess who is the student now.

My lil helper:
You can well imagine the amount of time sonny spends in the kitchen. For now if I say ‘get out mamma’s tea saucepan’ and in a flash – its taken out. Hubby of course believes I’m making a girl out of his lil man.

Out of sight:
As you can well imagine – sonny has a few toys here with him – we improvise with the ones he has here. His latest development is – once he’s finished playing with a toy he just slides it under the couch or under the TV table. Out of sight! So no toys littering the floor. Of course he also forgets that its there – and when the maid brings them out – he is most delighted. But I am impressed at his ability to ‘clean-up’ after his play. So now we’ve got him a toy basket from Ikea – it’s a tall mesh basket that stands up – and he can put his toys in there once he’s finished. Lets see if he uses this one – or still prefers sliding them under the couch.

Riyadh rules

2007-07-09T04:40:00.000-04:00

Like with every place, KSA or Riyadh to be specific has its own list of dos and donts, accepted practices and what have you.

Here are some that I thought were interesting:

You already know about the abaya rule – each woman has to wear an all-encompassing black gown and a head scarf. What I did find was that most expats, wear the gown and just leave the scarf on the shoulder. So should someone object (no one has to date) you can always wrap it around your head – else at least your head is free.
Salat or prayer times are very strictly enforced – esp for the men-folk. So 5 times a day (4 actually – since the first morning prayer is at 3.45am or so) all shops down their shutters for about 20 mins giving the faithful time to say their prayers. Women are spared of this rule. All malls, shops, shopping complexes, restaurants, every lil bit of commercial enterprise will shut itself down. Can you imagine, if you were in a mall and the shop shut itself down, you just have to wait outside the shop – on the benches thoughtfully provided for you. Or you reach a restaurant – and find out – you have to wait outside coz its shut for salat. After a while you do get used to it – and check timings before you leave home – just so you aren’t stranded outside.
There is a ministry here called ‘Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice’ or ‘Muttawwa’ – no really, this is true. The sole objective of this ministry is to ensure that women remain honorable (meaning abaya rule is enforced) and men-folk remain on the right path (meaning prayer time rules are enforced). So if the muttawwa should find a Muslim man loitering on the streets during the prayer times – he is hauled away and made to pray. Of course – non Muslims are spared. I have actually met people who have been picked off the street and taken to say their prayers.
Executions do happen in this part of the world – and open air executions at that. However, did you know that China has more executions per year than the KSA? Even the USA has more executions per year than the KSA. Bet you didn’t expect that too.
Most restaurants and/or take-out joints have 2 sections – the bachelor section and the family section. Even Starbucks has 2 separate queues to place orders. Ikea, Mc Donalds, KFC you name it – and they follow the 2 separate sections rule. And mind you these sections are strictly enforced.
I’m not too sure about the ‘male to accompany every woman’ rule. I myself have been out by myself – sans hubby – at malls and so have many many other women. In fact, the compound where we stay has a shuttle bus, twice daily that takes women to the various malls and picks them back at the pre-appointed time. And all women on the bus – are by themselves – no males.
The Ramadhan month rule – no matter what your faith – you cant eat or drink outside your house – during the fasting hours – which usually are from 4.30am to about 7pm. I don’t know what the repercussions are – should you be found eating or drinking – but I can imagine they will be rather strict. O the good thing is – offices work for just 6 hours – from 9am to 3pm all through Ramadhan , and shopping complexes are open all night.
Human labor is cheap and very freely available. Maids, drivers, cleaners, cooks, maintenance staff, gardeners, you name it….are all there to spoil and pamper you rotten.
Gas is cheap – 0.45 SR a liter. 1USD = 3.75 SR. So effectively its approx 46 cents a gallon……. Yes go ahead and shriek…..Is it any wonder that most people drive SUVs here? And most families have more than 2 cars.
Did you know that according to the Islamic rule – the groom has to make all the arrangements for the wedding? The bride’s family is only responsible for bringing the Qazi – who will perform the rites – max 15 mins duration. And the bride’s father/brother/responsible male relative will demand a ‘meher’ on behalf of the girl – almost as an alimony for the marriage. This is dowry is reverse – and yet there are often complaints as to how the bride’s male relatives have gobbled up the alimony that is rightfully due to the bride. I wonder – when and how – female abuse will end.
I am amazed at the number of lingerie shops I see in the malls – almost every 5th or 6th shop is a lingerie shop. I wonder with so much ‘cover up’ happening – who’s buying all those fur trimmed teddys and leopard print thongs and lace negligees. Don’t point towards the expats – we’re way too few to sustain such a thriving industry. Not to mention all those off shoulder evening gowns, and plunging necklines that I routinely see in the shop windows. I have seen more Vera Wang gowns here than in my entire stay in the US.
Siesta – these guys seriously believe in it. Most shops – with shut for the mid-day salat (At approx 11.30am) and will re-open only after the evening salat (at about 4pm). After Goa, Calcutta and a lot of small towns in India – this is probably the only place outside of India where I have seen this happen.
As an Indian – be prepared to be discriminated against. Since most of the blue collar workers are Indian or from the sub continent you are automatically assumed to be one. And as we say in India, ‘yahan paisa bolta hai’ (money talks). How to get around the discrimination? Spout an American or Brit accent or wear smart clothes or better still flash a non Indian passport or do something absolutely expat-ish.
The speed limits here are 120km/hr (approx 75miles/hr) – way higher than permitted in the US. Cars are fitted with special beepers should you cross 120. And no body cares about the beeps. You routinely see cars literally whiz across. And you routinely see accidents. Especially since there are no rules about round-abouts or right of ways. If there is an accident involving 2 cars – how do you decide who is at fault. There is a pecking order for that too. Between a westerner and a local arab – the westerner is at fault, between an Asian and westerner the asian is at fault. Mind you, the local is never at fault.

To cut a long story short. - 1

2007-07-02T15:53:00.000-04:00

In the past few months – every time something of interest happened – I’d think to myself this is one story I have to share. But as time went by – I think I have forgotten a great many of them. Here's one that I do remember.

Veil Wail.

The morning after we landed – we wanted to go to the lobby for breakfast. Hubby and I got into an argument – if the abaya ‘had’ to be worn in the hotel. Hubby insisted that the hotel was one from an international chain and it would be preposterous for them to ask their customers to wear an abaya. A quick call to the reception confirmed my fears – international or not – an abaya was a must. So down we went – me tripping in my gown – and sonny trying to tug at the scarf that I managed to wrap around my head.

Turns out families must be seated in a ‘family section’ only. We went in to see a couple of other families eating. One table caught my attention. 2 women sat and ate by themselves. Not wanting to stare I threw surreptitious glances in their direction. The woman’s head was of course covered by a black head scarf. Not just that she had an additional piece of cloth that extended from one ear to another, over her nose. Effectively you cud just see her eyes. And seeing hubby – she managed to produce another cloth that she dropped over her head – so now – look ma – no eyes to be seen as well. How is she going to eat, I thought. She demonstrated. She pierced a piece of fruit in her fork, brought the fork down, took it under the cloth covering her face, which she lifted ever so slightly and managed to put it in her mouth. Every single bite went through this elaborate procedure. Man, I thought, I would give up eating, if I had to do this.

I looked at her hands - whatever little were visible. Well taken care of, manicured, with a bright red nail polish to boot. Pretty rings adorned her fingers and she ate with great care.

And I wondered - what kind of a woman would would take so much care of herself - and then cover it all up? The feminist in me was befuddled - of course you dress for yourself - and not for outsider appreciation - so then is she the ultimate feminist? But what kind of feminist would put herself through this rigmarole at every meal? Is int feminism about liberation?

I dont know - but the more I see of these women, the more I wonder.

Locked out!

2007-06-24T17:29:00.000-04:00

It happened this Friday – which is the weekend, in this part of the world. 5.30pm, I handed my hubby his evening cuppa and marched upstairs to hang the clothes to dry in the balcony we have outside the master bedroom. As is his habit, sonny followed me. In a fit of fatherly affection, hubby has handed over his cell to sonny, set it to sonny’s nursery rhymes, so now sonny can carry his boom-box wherever he goes. So now ma has to listen to 100 nursery rhymes, non-stop!

Fortunately ma is adept in the art of tuning out and is humming to herself as she hangs the clothes out to dry. Sonny marches into the balcony, sits on the lil edge at the end of the grill and places his boom-box almost at the edge at the grill. A bit of breeze and the cell will sail to the ground – where it will meet a sure death on the concrete floor below it.
So I turned and grabbed the phone and asked sonny to keep it away. Of course, who listens to ma these days. Her favourite word these days is no. So sonny went back to his seat and kept the phone back in its precarious perch.
This time I decided to take some ‘affirmative action’. So I picked up the cell and marched indoors and kept it on the bedside table. Sonny barged in after me, picked up his precious cell.

Meanwhile I went back to my clothes drying. The next thing I know, sonny has walked over to the balcony door and shut it from inside. There! I have been locked out on the balcony of my own house, by my own beloved 2 year. It’s a glass door – so sonny can still see me. Hey, I bang, sonny open the door. But its one of those self-locking ones. Sonny walks up to the door but cant budge it. Ok I yell, go call your father. Sonny looks at me – and walks over to the AC. What was that again? Don’t touch the AC? Ok, on, off, on off, on, off! And now ma is making threatening gestures through the door – ok better leave it on – it sure is hot in here. Yeah go ahead and turn the AC on – after you’ve left your mother to bake on 40 dec C heat.

Again I start banging on the door – hoping to draw hubby’s attention to the situation. Meanwhile, hubby has turned on the TV – got his laptop onto his lap and is busy sipping his tea – completely unaware of the drama that’s being enacted upstairs. I bang the door non-stop until it strikes my dehydrated self that the doors are sound proofed. Hubby wont hear a thing. Fortunately there’s sonny here – maybe get him to call hubby upstairs. Ok baby – go call your father. Sonny thinks this is some game. He kisses the glass on the other side of where I have placed my hand. As I mouth ‘father’ he kisses some more. O drat!!! This luv-shuv is fine – but hey – go call your father.

This entire drama carries on for an hour. Sonny lolls on the floor – next to the door. At least I can see him here – at least he’s not getting into trouble. Oops said that too soon – sonny canters off towards the table lamp. Sonny, I resume banging the door. No!! He sees the intent in my eyes and leaves the lamp alone. He opens the drawers – yeah diapers! Each one is individually flung all over the room. And whats this? O baby wipes. He opens the package and pulls out the entire set of wipes, wipes his face, pulls them onto the floor like a huge train – generally he’s having a blast. While I watch from the other side of the glass door, just watch!

Then I hear the muezzin’s call for prayer. Sunset. It must be 6.45. I’ve spent more than an hour getting roasted on this balcony. Just how much longer will it take for hubby to realize that his wife and beloved son have been missing in action for way too long. I spy my neighbor out for a walk – hey I yell. Hello! But they just march off.
I keep returning to the balcony ledge to see if I can spot someone – who can ring the door and let my hubby know about his wife’s predicament. 2 maintenance workers walk past – hello I yell, hey listen, can you hear me. My brain yells – say ‘help’. But help sounds real desperate, doesn’t it. And I’m not so bad off. After all hubby has to realize his wife hasn’t said a word in the past hour and half and more – and that is rare! Turns out hubby’s not missing anyone. Sonny starts crying now – he’s hungry. Ok maybe hubby will hear him cry and come upstairs. Sonny continues to cry. This time I decide to yell help to whoever walks past the house.

After an agonizing 15 mins of sonny crying and me trying to tell him to go to his father, sonny walks off towards the bedroom door. Finally light on the landing stairs. I hear hubby walking upstairs, picks up sonny, surveys the mess in the bedroom and turns towards the balcony.
Yes, after an hour and 45 mins, I finally got back into the house, to sonny’s delight – who ran circles around me. Phew!! End of drama.

Yes, it could have been worse. What if it were early in the day or worse afternoon? Temperatures in the day touch 45 deg C – even more at times. What if it wasn’t a Friday? Hubby wouldn’t be home – and there would be a stark raving sonny inside the house and a stark raving mom outside. They would have to break the door to get in, if I did manage to get anyone’s attention at all.

Lesson to be learnt. Don’t mess with sonny’s nursery rhymes phone. He is bound to take revenge. Seriously though – have decided to get a cell for myself and keep it 24/7 with me – even while drying clothes. And keep a keener eye on sonny.

Birthdays!

2007-06-15T09:30:00.000-04:00

I’ve been seeing a spate of birthday parties happening of late. And this set me thinking.

When sonny turned 1 we were traveling, far away from home and no prospect of returning soon. We were staying in a hotel and didn’t know anyone beyond the hotel staff. And yet we wanted to have memories, special memories of the day. Our first born was turning 1. More than anything else – we as bumbling, inexperienced, hyper (me) individuals had not only managed to give birth to a child but we’d gotten him as far as the first year. So we ordered a cake – possibly the smallest one the shop made. But we took half an hour at the cake shop to agree on the cake design. This after taking 2 hours to select a design from their online site. We bought a card that expressed our feelings for him. Bought some paper ribbons and balloons to decorate the hotel room. We stayed up the night before to decorate the room for just the 3 of us.
Hubby woke up at 7am (on a Sunday – that’s a stupendous effort) to get the cake so that we could cut it at 8.32am – which is when sonny was born. And that was it. Sonny played with the ribbons and the balloons and refused to touch the cake – which we shared with the few hotel employees we knew. In the evening we took him to downtown Chicago and we strolled in the parks and took a lot of pictures.
That was it! That’s how we celebrated his first ever birthday.

I promised myself his 2nd birthday would be a lot special.

Sonny turned 2 early this Monday. Once again, we were in a new place. Didn’t know anyone. And didn’t want to throw a party for strangers. More importantly, I didn’t even know of a cake shop (whether one existed at all) in Riyadh. So I bought a marble cake from the store. A marble cake – plain, no icing, nothing written on it – in a plain tin. Sonny had other plans though. He woke up at 3 am. Howling, for who knows what. I yelled at him (haven’t I already told you – how much I hate my sleep being disturbed) before hubby reminded me – that it was his special day. We played till 6 in the morning, which is when he fell asleep. Hubby left for work – reminding me to capture sonny’s reactions to his gift – a brand new tricycle. Sonny has been running after other kids’ trikes here so we knew he would want this gift. Sonny woke at 10am, I presented his trike to him. And he just started walking around with it – no excitement. Hhhmmppff!!!
Hubby returned from work early – we cut his marble cake in a plain tin. For the second year running, sonny refused to touch his cake. No loss, mom and dad love marble cake :) We took him swimming at the pool, came back, fed him dinner and he went off to sleep. That’s it! Birthday no 2 – over! Of course his aunts, his grandparents all called and wished him, his cousins sang for him – but no drama beyond that.

Yesterday, I saw a news item about how some parents celebrated their 5yr old’s birthday. They rented a candy store! I bet the guests had a sweet time :)
Another set of parents spent 50000USD for a kids 1st birthday. Complete with a buffet and orchids and the works.
And then I saw another birthday party being celebrated here – a pool side party. And I wondered. That I love my son – is not questionable. And yet, we’ve just gone through 2 exceptionally simple birthday parties – his first 2 no less. I re-assure myself, we’ve been traveling, we didn’t know anyone. Besides no aunts, no uncles, no grandparents, no friends. We’ve celebrated his birthday with the 2 most important people in his life – who were present. Besides he wouldn’t remember anything, anyways. Forgiveable? Maybe.
When sonny is 8 or 10 or 12 and he hears from his peers about their first birthdays I wonder if our reasoning will hold. Or will he guilt trip us into throwing him lavish birthdays –just coz we didn’t throw him grand birthdays earlier.
My heart churns with unsettling guilt. My mind asks me – to take a chill pill!!

I'm back!

2007-06-12T07:44:00.000-04:00

I know its been a really really long time.

But consider this. We left our home in the US, intending to go for a short vacation to India. The vacation extended from 5 weeks to 8 weeks. Then instead of returning home, we had to go on straight to Saudi Arabia. Our time in Riyadh was spent first in a cramped hotel room for 2 weeks and then in a spacious villa for 3 weeks. Barely had we adjusted to life in Riyadh, we had to pack our bags again and head back to India for 3 days.

From India began another series of travel. We flew to New York, then to Boston. Then drove down to hometown Montreal. In each city we stayed for 5days to a week. After winding up all our bases in North America, we finally flew back to India, to get our visas re-issued(do not ask me why. The visa systems here are the strangest I’ve heard of).
In India we shuttled between Delhi and Lucknow and finally flew back to Riyadh last week.

And here I am! Back to blog-sphere. I know I have a lot of reading and catching up to do – and I’m all set! And I have loads of stories to tell you. For all those who checked up on me (I hope there were some) – thanks! I promise not to vanish like that again.
And all those who’ve read this……please do come back and check for more :)

The 6 word story

2007-04-03T06:11:00.000-04:00

She suggested, she tried. Me too!

I came, I saw, I blogged.

Nine months that changed a lifestyle.

Passionate night unravels my DINKy plans.

Is that truth behind the veil?

I want what I cant have.

Son rose, sunshine drenched my life.

New mother now realizes mother’s worth.

Dreams scattered like feathers of hen.

Her womb carries scars of motherhood.

Why not cry over spilt milk?

They didn’t deserve Super 8 qualification.

We chose past glories over future promises.

Marhaba!

2007-04-02T04:14:00.000-04:00

Marhaba!!

Greetings from the land of the Arabs!

I am writing this post from the immensely sunny Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

What am I doing here? That’s one question I keep asking myself as well. But to cut a long story short, hubby has taken up a position in his company which requires us to settle in Riyadh. Promotion, good job content, better standard of living and most of all proximity to home were the factors we considered before moving here.

Currently we are on a 2-3 week acclimatization visit here – and the way things are moving we don’t expect to fully move anytime before June. So in the meanwhile, sonny and I will shuttle between US, Canada, Mumbai and Riyadh. Some jet-setters we’ve become :)

We’ve read so much about the life here, the cultures and the changes that we will have to make from our current lifestyle. And yet reality is much different than what we’ve heard.

For starters, every second person is from the Indian sub-continent (Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Sri-lankans). We never fail to wish the Bangladeshis good luck for the team’s World Cup endeavors (and how my heart bleeds every time I say it) and how nonchalantly they shrug it off. Are we only crazed cricket fanatics here?

Mostly people are sympathetic to me. Husband job? Yes I mutter. You bored? Pretty much I mumble. Awww… this is life here. From the housekeeper to the waiters – everyone has the same line for me.

And the ubiquitous black and white look. Black abayas for the women and white flowing gown like overalls for the men. Its like living in a black and white movie. Color comes in the form of the western men – who pretty much wear their shirts and trousers (Women of all regions, religions, countries, of course, have to wear the abaya).

While adjusting to any new place takes its time – there are some things I didn’t account for. Like being clumsy – 3 days and I’m still not used to walking, sitting and eating in an abaya. Like not being able to dawdle around while sonny checks out the ants and leaves in the sidewalk. Or that people either look through you or look down. Or that nobody smiles and greets unknown women – unless they already know you. That there are 3 categories of people: Caucasians, Arabs and the rest.

While I haven’t seen much of the city, the color that strikes you right away is sandy brown. Even the pretty white houses with their pretty red tiled roofs seem to be brown. Much later I figured, that the absence of a lawn, flowers, greenery just takes all color out of the landscape. Especially since I know, that its spring in the US and the crocuses and tulips would be blooming and people would be coming out in droves to enjoy the warmth.

Besides summer hasn’t yet begun. And the sandstorms here are legendary. Temperatures are known to touch 50 C.

But there are some things I look forward to. Like being able to employ house-hold help (not possible in the US). Like being driven around all the time (women cant drive here), without hubby muttering about how an MBA hasn’t yet managed to learn driving in the US. Like shopping being the official past-time for all women here (what else can they do –if they aren’t allowed to work?). Like being a SAHM, and nobody questioning my decision. Like having everything (yes everything, including Mc Donalds) home-delivered. Like having a women’s only mall (no hubby means I can try on innumerable clothes, make frequent detours, constantly change my mind about the colors without someone gritting his teeth exasperatedly).

Or am I just deluding myself here. I guess time will tell.

All About Me!

2007-03-24T14:29:00.000-04:00

Fuzzy has tagged me to write 5 unknown things about me. Unknown? I tried to rack my brains about what facts about me would be unknown – and yet probably be interesting reading about me.

So here goes:

I come from a really conservative family. So much so that – my parents insisted I wear only salwar khameez when I went to college. Make-up was a no-no and friendship with guys was frowned upon. And after all that – I decided to make advertising my chosen profession where I spent 6 years.
I just cant remember numbers – telephone, sales figures, you name it.
I curse people who deeply hurt or offend me. Nothing big time (at least that’s what I think) – but stuff like – I hope she looses her credit card or I hope he gets no sex for a full year. And this regard, I consider Phoebe (from Friends) my soul sister.
I didn’t utter a word till I was about two and half years old. And I haven’t stopped since then :)
When I was in college, I wanted to adopt 2 little girls. I even had names for them – Mehek and Muskaan. I wonder what happened to that!

I tag art, TAP, iz, @ and tharini

Books are your best friends

2007-03-16T06:39:00.000-04:00

I've just read 2 very inspiring posts by Orchid and Tharini - on reading. And it set me down memory lane as well.

I don't remember being read to as a child. But I do remember lots of books in our house. And my fav elder cousins reading books. Probably that set me off on the reading road. A road well taken. Of course my mom was always around to help me through with meanings and pronunciations of words I didn't get.

When sonny was born I was determined to get him into a reading mode too. When he was 6 months old - I first ventured into our local library to get books. Thanks to the local government rules - we soon found out that we had been moved to another library much further away - and so sonny's reading sessions stopped. We bought him some picture books which he just loved. Very often I would feel a tug on my pants and would turn to see sonny clenching a book, demanding to be read to.

But that seems to be the extent of his patience for books. He just wont sit still while I read out a story to him. He seems more interested in turning the pages all at once or tearing it apart. I have often wondered, if this is because, the books are in English and we don't speak English at home. Or maybe they just aren't the right books. My mother suggested, I tell him a story at bedtime or at dinner time, sans book, just so that he gets the idea of what a story is. Have tried that too, albeit half-heartedly.

While we have carried his picture books with us to India, they seem to languish in the corner all the time while sonny runs in the lawn like a mad banshee. Forced sessions with books mean that pages get turned furiously and book gets shut.

Anyone out there with suggestions, advice, anything on how I can encourage sonny to sit down with me and a book. May be book recommendations?

Monkey Business

2007-03-14T15:22:00.000-04:00

As I stood staring out of the kitchen window - I saw a fully grown monkey sitting on the gate of my parents-in-law's house.
"O dear God! there is a monkey outside" I told ma-in-law
"o no! I'm going to loose more potted plants today" she said

More thumps on the ceiling indicated more monkeys running around.

Turns out every few days, a huge bunch of monkeys hits this recently settled residential colony where my parents-in-law reside. They pluck out flowers and buds from plants, remove plants from pots and generally leave devastation in their wake. Ma-in-law has lost several pots and more dahlias and chrysanthemums than she can remember.

Normally, I am quite a live-and-let-live kind of person. But monkeys! Running around in residential areas! And my sonny plays in the yard all day - except for the time he plays on the terrace. What if a monkey bit him??

"Why doesnt someone fire an air-gun or something to scare them off?" I ask.
"What if they hurt them, by mistake? Monkeys are revered in these areas to be incarnations of God (Hanuman)"
O shoot ! I didnt think of that!

"Why not call the forest reserve guys and have these monkeys sent back to the forests?"
"Where are the forests? These areas where we live now - used to be guava groves and monkeys roamed freely here. Now that we live here - where will they go?"
Good point! When man encroaches on animal land - animals have a right to fight back!

So now I'm really stumped! I keep scanning the horizon for impending monkey attacks - while sonny plays outside!

TV or no TV?

2007-03-12T07:20:00.000-04:00

One tends to raise one’s first born with a lot of idealism. Strangely enough, you make the most mistakes with your first-born. Before sonny was born, I had read up a lot of books, scanned the internet for issues, problems that new parents face and the solutions that “experts” offered. For all that reading, my 21 month old still co-sleeps with us and cant self-feed.

One issue that most groups are very vocal about is TV watching. The American Pediatric Associations recommends no TV before age 2 and thereafter only for 15 mins at a time, not more than 2-3 times daily. We’d met a couple who very proudly told us that their son (who was about 15 months then) had no attraction for the TV. Their secret? In the first 12-15 months or so – they didn’t watch any TV in his presence. So now, when the TV was turned on, he found nothing interesting about it. As a brand new mother – I was most impressed and I vowed that we would watch no TV with sonny around – because we didn’t want a TV addict. For some months it worked fine.

Once my in-laws left us, the technicalities of this working left us floundering. Besides winter was upon us – and who the hell wanted to go out when it was minus 20C. So it began with an odd episode of Friends here and there. And slowly it grew.

Once sonny turned about 1 year old – we started getting Zee TV. I cant tell you how much I was pleased to hear programming in Hindi. So all TV watching guidelines went flying out of the window. Sonny too enjoyed some ads and would come running out to watch them. I found sonny too had likes, dislikes about certain songs, title tracks, etc. But no major love for the TV yet.

Friends and relatives told me of how – just to get a break – they would sometimes turn on a favorite cartoon show for the kids. Of how the kids remained glued to the show, till it was turned off. And I thought – hey that’s not a bad idea – a show here or there – just “so I get a break” cant hurt, can it? So a few evenings, I would turn on PBS and sit and watch Clifford with sonny – explaining things to him in Hindi (since the show was in English). But within a few minutes, he would run off, leaving me watching the TV alone.

I even lamented to a few friends about it. We were pretty sure that once we got to India, sonny would get hooked onto the TV – plethora of Hindi programming, plethora of channels with the latest songs, something was bound to connect with sonny. But what do you know, he still doesn’t give it more than a cursory look and then runs off outside. Except for maybe a song here or there (and Don tops the list) nothing on TV can hold his attention more than a minute.

And as I write this, I am wondering – what the hell is wrong with me? I didn’t want sonny to get the TV habit and I did everything about it for 1 year to make sure TV stayed off his list of fav things. And now here I am wondering – why cant he sit still to watch any cartoon? Any one got any ideas to keep an active 21 month old busy for a while, while mommy checks out her blog-pals?

Changing Times of Sonny

2007-03-08T12:20:00.000-05:00

Before we embarked on our India trip, we were hopeful that sonny would open up and expand his vocab beyond the few words that he babbles. While talking still seems some distance away, sonny has learn t this:

He grabs his grand-father’s hand off the computer mouse and marches off with him outside the house for a stroll.
No matter how long we are outside the house – he wants to go out again
Just the sound of the door opening, is enough to get sonny from any corner of the house running to the door.
He bats his eyelids, pulls onto her kurta and generally follows the house-help around the house. Mind you, this is the same house-help, who, he was petrified of, when we got here.
The mirror is his new friend. He can spend many minutes smiling at his image, making faces and licking the mirror (yeah go figure that one)
He is fascinated by the fan. Just the sound of the fan whirring is enough to get him all excited. He’ll stand under it and stare at it non-stop.
Stranger anxiety is a thing of the past. Lil Master Flirty bats his lashes and offers a hand-shake at anyone who proffers a smile.
He just has to get into corners – the dirtier the better.
He’s learnt to lock the door (o dear god!)
He loves kids his age – he can play catch till he drops down completely tired.
He seems terribly interested in what we're eating - and will take a bite no matter how full he is.
He's realized that he is an individual too - so temper tantrums and digging heels into the ground are fairly common

And some things are still the same:

He is still afraid of water being poured on his head during a bath.
He still wants his Ma to feed him and put him to sleep
He still cant self-feed.
He still babbles - a lot more than before - but still no clear words.

DNA

2007-03-04T12:55:00.000-05:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

S2S AWOL?

2007-03-01T11:58:00.001-05:00

I know, I know...I've just vanished from the face of the earth. Fuzzy logic, Alan, Kodi's mom - thank you for checking up on me. Your concern really touched me :)

Where was I?
I am in India....yipeeeeeee... after 2 and half years - I've come back to Bharat ma!
And jet lag hit sonny so hard - he just wouldn't let go of me for a minute - for a full week!!!
And then of course - the mandatory relative visiting session happened. And to top it all, sonny
decided to sprout a new tooth and kept us awake half the night.
So I have yet to catch up on everyone's blogs - and give my vishesh tippanis and I promise to do that soon.
But right now - I am enjoying ma-in-law's delicious food and lazing around :)

But I'll be back soon. Watch this space!!

Mummy-fied again

2007-02-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

I had barely finished ranting about the fact that hubby calls me ‘mamma’ that another of these home truths hit me.

We had just finished getting sonny’s hair-cut at one of these ‘kids-only’ hair cutting places. As usual, sonny had wailed and bawled and let loose the ‘ganga jamuna’. I was pacifying him when a 5 ish year old walked up to us. She looked at sonny and said “o the baby is crying”. “I have a baby at home too” she added.

After a small pause, she said “and I have a mommy”

Me: “I have a mommy too”

At this she scrunched her nose and furrowed her brows and looked at me – and then at her mom.

Girl: “I said I have a mommy too”

Me: “I know. I also have a mommy”

At this she gave me the top-down appraisal, nodded her head and said “but you ARE a mommy”

I just kept staring at her and the realization hit me – that I had been effectively pushed over to the other side of the border. No more was I this person with relations of my own. I was a mommy. And just with that statement a whole list of adjectives and descriptors had been imposed on me. Henceforth, every person, younger than me by a couple of decades, had the right to look me top to bottom and dismiss me with a “you’re a mommy!”

I wonder what my mom would have to say to that.

Mummy-fied!

2007-01-26T00:55:00.000-05:00

There are few events, in one’s life, that can be truly called life-changing. Becoming a mother is one of them. Suddenly, from being this care-free, independent person, you metamorphose to being this constant care-giver, whose every action has an equal re-action on another tiny being. Its huge, monumental and yes, life-changing.

And yes I have ranted about all the changes I have made, I have had to make in my life. Some big, some small. However, there is one that I am unable to face up to. Its being ‘Mummi-fied’. From being this person, with an individuality and characteristics of my own – I am now ‘a Mummy’ with universal characteristics of mummys. From ‘Moms don’t swear’ to ‘moms have to be gentle’ I’ve heard it all.

But what hurts me most – is loosing my name. It started out innocuously with hubby one day referring to me as ‘mama’. I may have raised an eyebrow but let it pass nevertheless. But these days, its become kind of regular. Hubby has just stopped referring to me by my name – he calls me ‘mamma’. “Mamma what do we have for dinner?” to “mamma, do you like this?”

My friend M and I once discussed this in college. How some parents – stop referring to each other by their names but become ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’. How ridiculous it seems. That we sacrifice our individuality to the alter of parenthood. Didn’t think it would hit so close to home. That one professionally qualified man living in the 21^st century would call his professionally qualified post-grad wife ‘mamma’. We could well be living in the 16^th century Great Britain, Mr and Mrs. Briggs with our brood of 6 kids and the lord and master of the house addressing his wife as ‘mother’.

I am so pissed with this dated behavior I want to rouse him back to reality. My reaction? I’ve stopped answering hubby when he calls me ‘mamma’. He thinks that’s cute – so he’s sticking to his guns. And I am going to stick to mine. Lets see who wins this one.

2 is company. 3 is.....

2007-01-24T23:51:00.000-05:00

A nuisance?

A friend relates this incident. She has a 3 ½ year old who co-sleeps with them. One night after she put her daughter to sleep – she and her hubby got into the mood. While they were in the … errr… act, their daughter awoke and demanded to know what was going on. What they told their daughter can be gauged from the fact that thereafter, whenever the child saw her mother undressing or changing, she wanted to know, “mummy, kya aap papa ko pyaar karne wale ho?” (mummy are you going to love papa?).

When this incident was narrated to me, I was pregnant with sonny. So I had a big laugh at it. Now that sonny is 19 months old – my reaction is a bit different. O sure it’s funny alright. But now the issue really hits home. We too have a co-sleeper, a light sleeper at that. So now we truly comprehend how big an issue it is.

Of course the solution is – to get sonny onto his lil bed and get him to sleep by himself in his room. But then, that’s easier said than done. And considering the fact that, hubby’s job seems to give us a US-darshan, we keep moving places, so getting sonny settled into a new place is in itself a task.

Don’t get me wrong. I mean, I do love the fact that here we are – the entire family, snuggling in together under one blanket. And it’s easy to pacify sonny – who’s night terrors and nightmares have reached an all time high. Besides, I love the way he snuggles into me and sleeps.

But then, what do I tell well-meaning friends, who ask me – if I have started planning for a second baby already. I’d really like to tell them – that I can plan all I want – it’s the implementation that seems to be an issue.

And then, I take hope from orchid’s recent post about how her 3 ½ year old – now sleeps by himself. Hmmmm……

Style-behen!!

2007-01-19T22:43:00.000-05:00

Art has tagged me to do a style-check on myself. Here's my take.

A room with curtains drawn.
From the outside it looks like any other room. When the wind blows you get a sneak peak into whats going on inside. Hopefully what you see will keep you hooked onto taking more peeks.

What do you see?

A Veggie: The tomato. Is it a fruit? Or a vegetable? I don’t know. By myself, I don’t amount for much – but I defi add tang to other’s lives.

A Color: I’d be yellow – bright, sunny and happy.

A Dish: I’d be the ubiquitous yellow dal(lentils) – which I make everyday. I’d like to give it a break – but hubby and sonny can’t do without it.

An Ice cream: I’d be my fav maple syrup with walnuts – local flavor with a crunch!

A Fabric: I’d be cotton. Indian to the core, natural & easy on the skin. If you’re picky you might have problems with maintenance.

A Country: Switzerland. Known for her neutrality.

A Fictional character: I’d be cross between Wendy (from Peter Pan) and Linus. The eternal worrier who needs a security blanket. But once she found her Peter Pan – she gave up her home to fly across to his world (needless to say, tugging her security blanket).

A season: I’d be spring. Sometimes bright and sunny, sometimes cold and rainy.

A fruit: Apple. Wholesome, complete – has its own flavor and yet blends easily into a fruit salad. You cant have too many problems with the apple.

A piece of Furniture: Definitely arm-chair. Relaxed, easy-going.

Through the eyes of an FOB - II

2007-01-15T13:58:00.000-05:00

This is second in the series of my experiences as an FOB. This is what I have learnt about social mores and other rules in this part of the world:

When you cross someone or meet someone’s eyes – its customary to greet the person – even if you don’t know them. Try doing this in India – and people will think you have truly lost it.
If that person seems to be from the Indian subcontinent – keep your eyes down and continue walking. If you make the mistake of greeting this person – you will either be met with a cold stare or that person will just plain look through you.
The second floor – is really the first floor, the ground floor is the first floor.
When visiting a non-desi, its not required to take your shoes off. They will wonder whats wrong if you begin taking off your shoes at their door.
If a non-desi calls you for dinner – make sure to ask what time. Dinner is generally served between 6 and 7. Do not make the mistake of landing fashionably late – or by Indian Standard Time – truly no food will be left for you.
A ‘Hi! How’re you doing?” by someone is not an invitation to tell him/her your woes.
You call your friends'/colleagues' parents as Mr or Mrs ABC. Not uncle and aunty.
In the US – you use Fahrenheit and miles, not Celsius and kms. 27 deg C is really hot while 27 deg F is sub-zero.
There is no such thing as MRP – you have to scan the weekly flyers to know which stores have better deals on which items – even branded items go for much less with deals.
You do not put your clothes to dry on the porch, balcony or patio. Tying a string and hanging your towel out to dry is a no-no too. No really! If you don’t believe me, check your lease agreement.
You cross the roads only when the signal tells you – and that too only on the cross walk. Unlike in Mumbai – you just dart across the road if you judge the car will reach after you have crossed.
Traffic rules are meant to be followed. If you don’t – you will be caught and fined. To know what happens in India – see Twisted DNA’s version.
If you are driving on a small side-road, it’s customary to let the pedestrian pass first. If you are a pedestrian wait for the driver to signal you to pass. In India, the driver is the king of the road.
If you see a desi driving a car, even on the side road – step back – he’s not going to let you pass. (Stop yelling you guys – this is personal experience!) If he does let you pass – he deserves the ‘falling to the ground’ salute.
If it’s a woman driver – take 2 steps back. She’s going to stop – but she’ll misjudge where you are and you don’t wanna come under the car.
If it’s a teenager – hang back as far as you can. This is true for Mumbai too, I guess.

Yeh kya ho raha hai? (Whats going on?)

2007-01-10T13:45:00.000-05:00

The Nithari killings have held my thoughts the last few days. I am so pissed with whats happening – I thought I would do a post on this. But then what’s the point of spilling ink now – when so much blood has already been spilt. Probably the best thing I heard about the whole incident was a gentleman on one of these talk shows. He said “Deviants, maniacs, perverts and fiends have always existed and will always exist – and not just here – but abroad as well. The differentiating factor is – a police force that is ready not just to tackle but also take preventive action”. And sadly that’s where we have been let down. By a police force that does not care.

And really this is not an isolated incident. There are tons and tons of people – who will tell you how the police force – went against their intended role in society. Let me tell you my incident.

As part of the immigration procedures – one is required to produce a Police Clearance Certificate (PCC). And that is all the info the consulate gives you about this. Not knowing what this certificate does or is meant to say – my father volunteered to go to the nearest police station and find out. And what do you know – they don’t know what it is either. After visiting 2-3 police chowkies, we found out the procedure to get one. It involved me going to the Police headquarters where all such admin procedures happened. I decided to go by myself. Wrong thing to do. Ladies, never, ever go to a police station by yourself. Always have a male companion. The police thinks something is wrong with you – if you land up by yourself.

A very helpful clerk provided me with the info on how to go about the procedure – while at the same time – passing snide remarks about my lonesome state to his fellow workers in Marathi. I am extremely fluent in Marathi – and understood every word. But decided to keep my trap shut. Form filling took 10 mins, found out no fee was required and I was to return after a month to pick up the said form. During the month, I was informed, a CBI, FBI and local CID inquiry would be held to find out if there were any civil or criminal cases against me and if I lived where I said I did. In short, if I was a law abiding citizen of the land. O wow, I thought, all this in a month. Wonder why all other police investigations so long?

A couple of weeks later I was summoned to the local police station for verification. And while I landed at the appointed time – the constable (or was he an officer?) was missing. I waited an hour and decided to come back the next day. Next day, same status. This time I waited till the man returned from his beat. Found out my extremely ‘helpful’ clerk at the HQ had misprinted my name and my hubby’s name. Not a small mis-print but a complete change in the name e.g. Rajan had become Ravi. Another helpful constable corrected the mistake, after all ‘aap shareef ghar ki aurat ho’ (you are from a respectable family).

I landed up exactly a month later to pick up my PCC. O yes, helpful clerk said, you are most prompt. But the Certificate hasn’t yet been signed by the officer concerned. Ok, I thought, get the signature then. I offered to go and get the signature myself. But of course ‘yeh kannoni mamla hai madam – aap nahin kar sakti’ (it’s a matter of law – you cant do it yourself). He said he would get it done soon. I waited again. He went through my papers – ‘o aap ne mistake ko correct karwa diya’ (you had the mistake corrected). What the hell I thought – he knew there was a mistake! Did he make it intentionally? But why?

After about half an hour he got up from his chair to get the signatures. Came back a while later – showed me the form had been signed.

As I waited for the Certificate – he told me – a poor computer operator had filled in my form. It would be good if you gave him some ‘baksheesh’ (gift of money). O I said, doesn’t the government pay him to fill in our forms? Yes, he replied, but its very measly. Everyone pays him something. Why don’t you go pay him – while I stamp your form. Suddenly the dim-bulb in my head lit up. O he wants a bribe. But wont take it himself. And all this in the SP’s office. Under his damn nose. Ok, I shrugged. How much? Thirty bucks should be enough – he told me. O wow I thought – they even have a fixed rate. So I made my way to ‘poor’ computer operator – who looked very confused – when I gave him the money – but then looked over my head to the clerk signing him to accept the money – and took the money.

I got my certificate – which I ought to have rightfully got – without a hindrance. Alls well that ends well.

Whoever I narrated this incident to – nodded in agreement saying – o yes these things often happen. Really? The more I see incidents such as the Nithari ones, the more I tend to agree with them. The poor parents didn’t have money and so nobody even bothered to hear them out – let alone file FIRs. (First information Report). And all this happening in the place the UP government holds up as a model township. UP – the state for which Amitabh Bachchan is a brand Ambassador.

If this is what model townships are like – I shudder to think what the rest is like.

The Ashley Experiment

2007-01-06T00:19:00.000-05:00

While I have been lamenting about my minor issues or creating issues where none existed, the new year brought to the fore a lot of stuff that took me by surprise. For one, the girl being molested at The Gateway of India, Mumbai on New Years Eve – an issue that Viva tackled in her blog. That something like this could happen in Amchi Mumbai left me fairly shaken. The city of dreams showed its ugly underbelly in this nightmarish incident.

Global warming on the other hand has left the entire north-east coast of USA unusually warm for this time of the year. Meteorologists talked about the El Nino effect leading to 2007 being accorded the status of the warmest year ever on record. Somehow its still not warm enough for politicians to come out of their holes and start thinking about the environment and climate.

One issue that really moved me – is what’s being dubbed as the Ashley experiment. Parents of a severely cognitively and physically disabled girl took some decisions which have left them open to criticism. The 9 year old has static encephalopathy, with marked global developmental deficits, and is reported to be non-ambulatory, with the cognitive abilities of a three-month-old child, and no hope for improvement. Simply put – she has the brain of a 3 month old with the body of a 9 year old. So she can’t get up, walk, or even turn over on her own. She smiles at her parents but doesn’t recognize them. What goes unsaid is – she needs constant care.

So what did the parents do? They decided to subject her to high-dose estrogen, a prophylactic hysterectomy, and breast tissue reduction surgery (to prevent familial breast cancer). The basic premise is that high-dose estrogen can inhibit growth and advance maturation of epiphyseal growth plates in order to keep the child's stature short. Put simply, she will not grow beyond 4 feet and 5 inches and will not weigh beyond 34 kg (70 pounds). Her parents reason that since she will need constant care – its best that she remain small so that they can carry her around. If she gains her full height and weight she will most likely spend all her time either staring at the ceiling or the TV.

Their decision has sparked off worldwide debate about whether it was a decision of convenience or compassion. Medical ethicists have criticized the parents' decision, saying that while it may make her care more manageable, it sets a precedent for the treatment of severely disabled children.

If motherhood has taught me anything it’s never to judge another parent. So I’m not going to get into the rights and wrongs of the decision. I can’t even imagine what the parents must have gone through to reach at this decision. How does one reach such a decision? Of course you would want the best for your child – but then how do you decide whats the best?

So far one has heard about disabled children spending their lifetimes at special care homes – existing each day – parents not being able to care for them. To me the decision is bold. And courageous. And full of resolve – to meet the future – no matter how strenuous it may seem. And it shows the love the parents have for their child – to ensure that they will be able to care for their child.

Yes, the question does remain about taking over the rights of the child. I mean for all practical purposes they have taken certain decisions which will ensure that should she recover – she will not lead the full life of a normal woman. While doctors have ruled out her chances of recovery, my religious beliefs prod me into asking “what if a miracle were to occur? What if He wills for her to recover?” Will the child understand the strength of her parents resolve? But then again haven’t her parents become demi-Gods, deciding a future for her?

Her parents are maintaining a blog about their decision for their daughter and you can see it here.

I couldn’t get this issue out of my mind all yesterday and today – and I still haven’t gone any further than when I began. What do you guys think?

Question Time

2007-01-04T15:09:00.000-05:00

I was at a social gathering the other day when I was introduced to someone. “Where do you live?” she asked me. After I gave her the general area, her next question was “So how much rent do you pay?” After I finished spluttering over the samosa, I was wolfing down; I diverted the topic to how spicy the samosas were. After a few minutes of general chit-chat she remembered her original question “You didn’t tell me – how much rent you pay?” Its not as if I didn’t remember her question, its just that I found it way too inquisitive. I mean after all we had just met – you don’t know me from Adams and yet how much rent we pay is of such paramount importance.

At this time – hubby materialized from somewhere – and told her “well all put together our monthly outgoings works out to $ X” Not to be left unanswered she insisted, “and how much of that would be your rent?”

How does one avoid such a pointed question?

And then I thought – is it me? Am I too stuck up? I mean all she wants to know is the rent. But when she sees how I am avoiding telling her – she ought to give up, right?

Its not just rent – I have been queried on many such topics which are best left for intimate chats between friends – defi not casual conversations between people who have just met. Hubby shrugs it off with her “maybe she just wants to know the rent rates in our area” or “maybe she just wants to be friendly”. O sure – what better way to strike up friendship than to make me thoroughly uncomfortable?

Why just a few days ago – someone asked me “How much tax do you guys pay in a year?” Err exactly who are you – the IRS?

My friend C tells me of a time when they had just met someone who asked her hubby “so how big is your sales target?” knowing well that hubby’s pay is linked to sales target figures. She didn’t know how to answer that one either. Neither did I know what to tell random uncle S (who I meet once in 6 months) who asked me “so what’s your salary?”

How does one explain to people that some things are best kept out of public domain. That some questions can make the interviewee (after all thats what it is) rather uncomfortable. One question that I just didn't know how to handle, was when people heard I was getting married, they'd ask "so much does he earn?"

How does one handle people like that?

Or the other sort - who will tell you exactly how much they earn, save, pay. The look in their eye tells you - they are waiting for you to cough up your figures. its almost like they have set up some sort of barter exchange of information. Your reluctance to share only fuels their desire to know.

And then I wonder, if I am the one who is putting importance upon money issues - for the questioners this information is open for public discussion and isint of much personal importance. I mean, there are sites up on the net where people tell you of the deals they have struck, of their own accord.

So I am unable to resolve this one - should I just grit my teeth and tell the next questioner exactly how much rent we pay or should I just smile and ask "why? why do you want to know?"

First post of 2007

2007-01-02T10:09:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

I'm going to begin this year - with these 3 print that were sent to me by an ex-colleague, from O&M. The ads have been designed by the O&M Creative Team.
This subject is extremely close to my heart and so I wish to share these ads with you.

Ad 1
Ad 2:
Ad 3:

What more can I say - the ads are pretty clear on the message. And as usual, I saw the ads and felt my eyes moisten up.

Last Post for 2006

2006-12-30T10:19:00.000-05:00

Would like to end the year 2006 and welcome 2007 with these immortal and oft-repeated lines by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife,
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweet manners, purer laws.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Happy New Year to all!

Trivia

2006-12-29T09:21:00.000-05:00

This site lists the 100 things we didn’t know before 2006. So here's some trivia about 2006. The site has a related story to each of them.

Here’s my pick:

2. There are 200 million blogs which are no longer being updated, say technology analysts.

3. Urban birds have developed a short, fast "rap style" of singing, different from their rural counterparts.

7. The lion costume in the film Wizard of Oz was made from real lions.

9. Fathers tend to determine the height of their child, mothers their weight.

13. The fastest supercomputer in the UK can make 15.4 trillion calculations per second.

15. Donald Rumsfeld was both the youngest and the oldest defence secretary in US history.

21. English is now the only "traditional" academic subject in the top 10 most popular university courses.

23. More than one in eight people in the United States show signs of addiction to the internet, says a study.

26. Each person sends an average of 55 greetings cards per year.

28. More than 90% of plane crashes have survivors.

31. The Mona Lisa used to hang on the wall of Napoleon’s bedroom.

47. Watching television can act as a natural painkiller for children, say researchers from the University of Siena.

64. Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobiacs is the term for people who fear the number 666.

67. Music can help reduce chronic pain by more than 20% and can alleviate depression by up to 25%.

68. The egg came first.

72. Modern teenagers are better behaved than their counterparts of 20 years ago, showing "less problematic behaviour" involving sex, drugs and drink.

73. George Bush's personal highlight of his presidency is catching a 7.5lb (3.4kg) perch.

84. Thinking about your muscles can make you stronger.

86. Six million people use TV subtitles, despite having no hearing impairment.

90. The Himalayas cover one-tenth of the Earth's surface.

98. A "lost world" exists in the Indonesian jungle that is home to dozens of hitherto unknown animal and plant species.

100. In the 1960s, the CIA used to watch Mission Impossible to get ideas about spying.

Of Toys, Boys..... and Joys

2006-12-27T22:54:00.000-05:00

My mother believed that imagination and not toys were a pre-requisite to play. And so, while we had a 10 year subscription to Readers Digest and an Annual subscription to Champak (it used to be an English magazine for kids) and mom’s office library subscribed to Chandamama (again English kids magazine – with short stories) – beyond that were fairly left to our resources. And since my brother and I had to share toys – we often ended up with fairly uni-sex kinda toys – badminton rackets, carom boards, playing cards and the like.

So its no wonder that I am fairly un-impressed by toys.

When my son A was born – we didn’t buy many toys for him. He also seemed more content at just lying in his grand-parents laps and seeing the world from there. But as he grew, hubby and I grew more allured by the world of toys. We soon found out, that toy buying was not an easy task – esp for a toddler. There were categories in toys:

Activity Toys: For infants this could be a play-mat with hanging toys. For toddlers it could be play gyms, activity centres, castles – anything that allows your child to spend that extra energy.

Development Toys: Typically these toys will sing rhymes, numbers, colors, parts of the body, alphabets. The permutation combinations of what it can do can be fairly mind-boggling.

Soft Toys: Typically your plush toys – don’t do much but act as comforters to the child.

Movement Toys: Your push and pull varieties. Some sing, others don’t. The boys start with these and then move onto cars of all sorts.

Stackers and Sorters: Stacking rings, blocks, etc

Adult Play: Doctor Sets, teacher sets, kitchen sets, even office sets – for the child to indulge in adult play.

Dolls & Accessories: Barbie and her ilk feature here.

Given this spread – I (as the designated toy buyer) spent hours browsing the net and toy shops to figure out what toy was ‘right’ for his needs. Each toy came with its own skills development promise. Did I want to develop his gross motor skills? Or his social skills? Fine motor skills, perhaps? His alphabet knowledge? Get his music ability enhanced? He’s an 18 month old – for crying out loud – have some mercy. Where are all those toys we used to see when we were kids? The monkey that banged cymbals – for no reason. That barking dog that did cartwheels for laughs. I mean – why does toy buying need to be such an hi-fi exercise? More importantly, cant a child just play with a toy – without having to listen to the Alphabet song or numbers?

Luckily for me – most of the toys that we chose – were approved by A. Or maybe because we bought such few toys for him – he played with each and every one of them. Most of his toys, I have noticed sing rhymes, alphabets, colors, numbers, parts of the body. How much sonny has picked from his toys is open to debate – since we don’t speak English with him – and the toys talk exclusively in English. One thing is for sure, sonny is all set to a DJ or RJ. For he lines up all his singing toys – and in some sequence (which only he figures) he plays a song from this one then a rhyme from the next – then something from the third. Then back to the first. I cant figure what he’s thinking – but he seems engrossed.

Last week sonny left all his toys behind and moved into the kitchen. Picked up my pots and pans, my cooking spoons and spatulas and for the next 2 hours played non-stop with them. After he finished playing – he lined them up on the floor – and went off in search of some new adventures. For the last 2 days – I cant seem to find my pots or spoons in their designated places. A treasure hunt ensues – with different spoons and pot covers emerging from under the sofa or in some corner of the house – courtesy sonny. Each morning he strides into the kitchen opens the shelves and drawers and helps himself to the favored pot or spoon of the day.

And now I'm wondering if this is what interests him - why should we buy any more toys for him?

Last Christmas

2006-12-26T12:52:00.001-05:00

It looked like this....Pic Courtesy: Me
Location: Our backyard, Montreal, Canada
Mood: I wailed to every willing ear about how dull and mono-chrome it looked. Not to mention cold.

This Christmas, however, it looked like this

Pic Courtesy: Me
Location: View from our patio, Boston, US
Mood: I lamented about how some things just aren't as sacred as they ought to be. Imagine a Christmas without snow.

Is it me?

2006-12-20T23:41:00.000-05:00

I would call myself a rational person. I am not easily given in to tears, in public. I can remember sobbing out only in a couple of movies. I have spent 6 years in advertising and have known how not to crack under pressure. I have seen my share of bad clients (and good ones too – thank God). Public display of emotion was a rare occurrence.

However, I have noticed over the past few months, any child or mother-child incident makes me dissolve very easily into tears.

Let me quote a few examples. Hubby, sonny and I were shopping at JC Penny. In the section ahead, we heard a mother calling out to her son. Turned out the child had wandered off while the mother was busy shopping. And now he was not to be found. Suddenly another lady appeared, described a child and asked the mother if it matched her child’s description. The mother, almost close to tears, nodded. The lady now directed her towards a cash counter where she had last seen the child. The mother raced towards the said spot and found her son howling away. Maa-beta milaap (mother-son union) happened – and all on-lookers were pleased to see such a happy end.

Not me. While the mother and son hugged and sobbed – I just couldn’t control my tears. Right there in front of so many shoppers – I sat down and sobbed. Hubby tried his level best – to tell me – “your son is safe and sound, right here with you” made no difference. Even “fine, go buy what you please, money is of no object” couldn’t stop the tears. For the next 5 mins – I sobbed like my own had gone missing. After 5 mins the storm had passed, I turned to hubby and said “is my eye-liner smudged?”

I know, it sounds funny now. But then, I don’t know – what happened – I just couldn’t stop crying.

And that’s not the only instance. I was watching “Saa Re Ga Ma Pa” on Zee TV – the “Lil Champs” version. The first few episodes were devoted to showing the initial eliminations. Kids who hadn’t made it through – were coming out and crying. And there I was – tears streaming down my face, sobbing away. I must’ve been quite a sight – for my son came running and decided to hug me. These were unknown, random kids, crying coz they couldn’t make it to some competition. Why the hell was I crying???

And its not just that. Any movie, any serial, any news report – where they show a child in pain – or a mother-child making brave efforts to survive is difficult for me to watch. I squirm in my seat – or move away – not wanting to watch.

The final straw came today. In one of serials that I follow – the protagonist Vedika dies of a heart attack. She has a toddler and wants to see her son one last time before she breathes her last. And I just couldn’t stop the lump in my throat or the tears pricking my eyes. What the hell, I thought, is wrong with me? It’s a silly serial.

Seriously, what is wrong with me? Am I so heavily charged with “mommy hormones” that I have to let loose “ganga-jamuna” at every random child incident. Am I becoming my mom (o she cries at movies – and in real life – pretty easily)? Is it a that-time-of-the month-incident-pattern? Or is it just years of holding back emotions – now they’re coming toppling out? I mean I can understand crying when your child is hurt or is crying. But some completely unknown child? Or worse – a make-believe serial?

I know for a fact that since I’ve had my son – I have given a serious thought to – what will happen if I die? Who will take care of my son? And the only regret I can think of – is not being able to see my son grow up – go to school – have his first crush…… the works. It has made me more aware of my mortality. More serious about the decisions I make. More careful about the things I do – even lame ones like crossing the street.

But become more teary…this one I didn’t anticipate.

Has this happened with the other moms too? Has motherhood made us more vulnerable? Or just, more given to emotions? Is it a phase – just the ways kids have ‘stranger anxiety’? Or is it like my hubby puts it “such a good hubby – takes so much care of you – you have no reason to cry otherwise – so your mind is hunting for reasons to cry”. Is it a mark of motherhood?

Does it happen to others? Or is it just me?

Through the Eyes of an FOB

2006-12-18T14:26:00.000-05:00

When I first landed as a new immigrant to Canada, there were many things that were – well – different. This is what I am hoping will be the first in the series – my experience as a student.

I joined up learn French as a second language at one of Canada’s French Universities. As I learn't my way through the system, here’s what I found:

You call your professor by his/her first name. A sacrilege in India.
Late-coming to class, is so severely frowned upon, that 3 strikes and you could be marked absent for the day.
Dressing at college is very very casual. Yet very fashionable!
Attendance is a must. You dare not be caught bunking class. A far cry from the days – we went to college and lounged exclusively in the canteen.
The professor will teach the subject at hand. But examination questions will take a practical spin on the theory taught to you. Gone were the days when, you basically mugged up the class notes, vomited it out at the exams and were done with.
While exam scores were important, class papers, reports, projects and the ubiquitous home-work carried equal weight. I don’t remember doing home-work since I left school.
I would die for any Indian college to get a library of this size. Huge!!! 6 full floors! And row upon row of computers – you can reference the books or the internet – all within the confines of the library.
There is no peon to photo-copy stuff for you. You have a charged Student card – you photo-copy your stuff yourself – using the card. Ah the luxuries of a human-intensive economy!
There are arm-chairs in the library – where you can – believe it or not – snooze!! And no body gives a damn. O I used those armchairs - a lot!!!
The professors invited you (the class) home for a party or took you out for coffee. Can you imagine doing that with Professor Srivastav (or Pandey or Mukherjee or whatever)?
The professors would walk through the aisles un-greeted, un-acknowledged. Can you even imagine that happening in India?
You don’t stand when the professor addresses you in class. If you didn’t stand when the prof spoke with you in India – he’d probably throw you out for being ‘mannerless’
You could have a difference of opinion with your professor - and still stay in class.
And best of all – at the end of the year, you graded your professor on various parameters. I would love to go back in time and grade all those bores who lullaby-ed me to sleep through college.

Mein hoon Don

2006-12-15T13:57:00.000-05:00

The phrase that best sums up the new Don is from one of my fav Amitabh Bachchan, movies, Chupke Chupke "Joh hai - woh nahin hai - aur joh nahin hai, woh toh ho hi nahin sakta" (what seems - isin't. and what isin't - cant happen)

To begin with - I am one of those few who hasn't seen the old Amitabh Bachchan 'Don'. Therefore this one comes on a fresh slate to me. And I quite like it. No, I'm not an SRK fan (heart beats for Sallu and of late Abhishek Bachchan) nor a big fan of re-makes.

To start of, the plot is full of twists and turns almost in the Jewel Thief genre. The movie begins on an established template - that the real Don is injured badly and the DCP sends in a look-alike in his place to get more information on the workings of the gang. So far so good. And then almost character changes colors - down to the Don.

However, most of the twists happen in the second half of the movie. By the end your head is kinda spinning - wondering - exactly who is who. And just when you think every thing's all wrapped up - there comes this huge surprise in the end.

For a Hindi movie, its a good effort at mystery. And yet, at some places, motive is a little difficult to establish. At some places, story seems to be a little far-fetched. There is a lost child - who is old enough to be able to count up to 3000 - but not old enough to remember his address (and is hence lost).

They do have 3 songs flicked from the old Don - and if you've had a liking for the older version - these will sound like a bad techno re-mix. If you listen to them afresh - they don't sound all that bad. Of the 2 new songs - I cant even remember the lyrics of the song picturised at the Ganpati procession - so unremarkable. The other song "Aaj ki raat" is fairly ok and peppy.

For the cast, Priyanka Chopra I thought was ok in her role as the revenge seeking Roma. SRK, I felt was a let-down. The mean-ness, ruthlessness, sarcasm just wasn't there. Style - yes, sharpness - no! SRK also really looks like he needs to loose weight - especially in the aforementioned ganpati song and Khai Ke Paan song. Not so much on the face - but around the waist he sure looks chubby. Speaking of chubby, Kareena Kapoor's arms, legs, thighs sure had a life of their own - they jiggled and wriggled to the beats of 'Yeh mera dil' completely to their own beat. I felt she just couldnt touch Helen in the original song.
And poor Isha Koppikar - such bad costumes and such bad hair-dos - especially in the 'Aaj ki Raat' song. Its like they intentionally wanted her to look bad - so she would'nt overshadow Priyanka Chopra. Its not her fault she has more screen presence than the ex-Miss World does.

And talking of clothes - whats with the paisley printed shirts and lil flowery motifs on SRKs clothes. Don't tell me - these things are making a come-back again. Whats worse - they may have (notice may have - not necessarily they did) looked good on Salman Khan in the 1990s - but they don't look good on SRK.

Boman Irani - is good - as usual. Arjun Rampal - deadpans again - as usual.

Rest of the movie - is fairly good. I was hoping to see more Matrix-like action sequences - so was disappointed there.

All in all - worth a watch!

My Exam

2006-12-13T12:23:00.000-05:00

Its that time again. Its one of those much awaited yet dreaded moments that happen once every few months, I cant wait for it to be over.

A few days before the D-day, I’m filled with anticipation, paranoia, worry and hope. I begin preparations a few days in advance. I start reading up on the internet, make copious notes and start prepping myself. I start getting my list of questions ready. And my list of answers. I even start to prep my son and hubby. And yet, I often wonder what good this last minute preparations can do to me.

A day in advance I ready my bag, put my papers in – a few spares, my records. I check and re-check if I have the time and date right.
In my head, I have planned out the route, the time to leave home, the meal I would have to prepare in advance. Everything is planned and thought of.

I ready myself to meet the examiner.

The examiner is a gentle, soft speaking grand-dad type person. He’s been an examiner for the past 40 years and has seen countless anxious, over-wrought people like me. He talks to me about the subject of my thesis. He examines the fruit of my toil gently with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. My thesis is unwieldy – and somehow resists all attempts at being put to order. He questions me – and gently encourages me in my efforts. He offers tips to handle tricky problems, even laughing at hubby's attempts to be helpful.

He checks my records – marks his observations.
Then he pats me on my shoulder “that’s a job well done. Growth is plotting out fine. Your milestones are being met.” and that’s his sign to tell us – our exam is over. His smile tells us – like every time – looks like we’ve made it with flying colors.

On his way out he looks at my son and says “for being such a good boy – we’re gonna give you some shots – I’m sorry child – but the nurse will be here soon”. And with that my son’s pediatrician walks out of the room.

And that’s how ends my son’s quarterly physical exam. Much anticipated – yet much dreaded. And I have one today. Pray for me.

Change...or something like it

2006-12-11T00:02:00.000-05:00

I heard this piece of conversation at a social gathering a while ago.

Lady 1 to Lady 2 “So are you in touch with ABC. How’s she doing? Are they planning to start a family yet?”

Lady 2 “No, they aren’t planning to start a family yet. ABC says she’s not yet ready.”

Lady 1 “Not ready yet? haven't they been married for 2 years now? How much longer does she intend to wait?”

At this point 2 other women join the conversation.

Lady 2 “She says a baby will bring about too many changes in their life. Right now they want to just enjoy life. Basically she says she’s not ready for the changes the baby will bring to their lifestyle”

At this statement there was a huge uproar amongst the women.

“baby will bring changes? What rubbish is that?”
“how can she talk like that – being a woman?”
“aree we’ve had a child too – what big sacrifices does a baby ask for?”
“and what lifestyle changes will a baby ask for? Live your life as you did previously – just one more person to share your life with”
“a baby brings only joy – such a selfish woman”

At this point, I had had enough – I stopped eavesdropping and moved off. But the conversation kept ringing in my ears.

As a new mother, I totally agreed with ABC’s point of view. A baby does bring changes – huge ones to your life. Especially in the first year – just about everything gets turned upside down. Your eating habits, your sleeping patterns (what sleep?), your social life, your stepping out of the house – be it for grocery shopping or an overnighter, suddenly there is a new perspective – one more lens to see all these things with.

So then what were these magpies chattering about? About there being no changes entailed? If I look at my life – there were 2 things I held very dear – my morning cuppa – which I make myself – just the way I want it – to be had at just the right temperature, and my sleep. And my son A’s arrival just totally banished these two dearly held things in my life. Invariably, sonny would have to poop or demand to be fed as I sat down with my cup of tea. And the first few months – he had to be fed every couple of hours – night and day. So sleep was pretty deprived. In addition – we’ve stopped going to the movies – coz we’re pretty sure A is going to create a racket there, dining out has reduced a lot. Yes, we’ve started spending more time together as a family – doing things that will keep us all happy – but that is a change.

And now that I think, just about everything has changed too, down to way I tie my hair – I used to keep it open – now I have to tie it – else sonny will pull out the few remaining strands.

So then, how is ABC wrong in maintaining that a baby will change her lifestyle? To begin with the argument has no premise – whether or not ABC wants to have a baby is entirely her jurisdiction – no fat aunty has any say in it. But her point is valid – if she is not ready for the upheaval – she’s not ready. And upheaval is the right word.

Yes a baby brings joy – and you more than willingly accommodate a new arrival in your midst. But hand on your heart – you have made adjustments – minor, major – to ensure that the new one fits in. Yes, every new relationship brings it’s share of adjustments. And this one is no different. And yes, you made most of the changes of your own accord – there was no one demanding it. But nevertheless – there were changes.

Or am I the only selfish woman out there (with ABC, of course) who thinks like this? Or does motherhood (and also fatherhood) mean that you keep putting your life through the wringer and don’t even feel the need to acknowledge it – even to yourself. And to expect people to recognize that you have changed your life means being branded selfish?

And remember, these are not men, who seem indifferent. These are other women – women who have had children of their own. Who ought to be in the best position to appreciate all that another woman goes through in raising the next generation of humanity. And yet, these are women who seem to think, that you ought to be a mother first and a woman afterwards. That you ought to sacrifice your indulgences as a woman at the alter of motherhood. Or is that how it should be?

Is motherhood so great that it will overshadow womanhood? Cant both co-exist? Where sometimes being a mother gives you so much joy – and yet when you want to be pampered as a woman – motherhood is not going to stand in your way.
Or are they already co-existing, being mutually helpful, and I am not able to see it clearly.

Maybe some years down the line I would have found my answers, maybe some of you already have. But at least I questioned it and have started searching for the answer. Maybe that’s the first step in the reconciliation.

Boys will be boys!

2006-12-08T14:29:00.000-05:00

I often wonder if we ought to raise boys and girls in the same way. In the old times, girls were raised with gentleness, delicacy and softness. And boys? They were let loose to play with frogs and spiders and all types of creepy crawlies. Girls who displayed a love for ‘disgusting creatures’ were tamed – to behave in a more feminine fashion.

I wonder if there was any merit in that?

And before, feminists out there can shove their pitchforks into me – let me explain.

I was raised in a rather conservative family – where girls were expected to behave in a certain way. All through school and college – I lived under the belief that – children were like wet clay – you basically had to mold them – to get them to behave in the manner you saw fit. So girls were ‘molded’ to become soft and gentle and feminine. While boys were ‘molded’ to be masculine and aggressive.

That is until I had a son.

From his birth until now – I have been his primary care-giver. So he eats, sleeps, plays with me. And so far – no complaints. He enjoyed being with me. We read books together, we tried to colour together. I even got him Play-doh, to get him I touch with his creative side. And to get him in touch with his feminine side – we played ‘Ring around the roses’ – much to hubby’s consternation and wild protests. I would call for hugs – and there he was beaming and running towards me – to give me ‘big huggie’. Of late – we’ve even progressed to wet licks – which pass off as kisses.

But I have been noticing for the past few weeks – my son has changed. He isn’t the ‘mamma’s boy’ that he used to be. He now waits to play with his father. And what do they play? Racing cars, wrestling – where hubby basically pins him to the ground and tickles him mad, jumping from the couch, climbing on the table and all such ‘manly things’. And while they are playing – he ignores calls for ‘big huggie’ :(

The other day I raced from the kitchen upon hearing sonny’s screams. Turned out hubby was twirling him around, throwing him in the air, like a lil doll my sonny was being buffeted around. “Stop it”, I screamed, “you’ll break my baby”. “Just look at his face” hubby said, and sure enough, sonny was screaming, but asking for more. Completely chastened, I slunk away.

So I have been wondering – are boys just wired differently? I mean do they have a basic, intrinsic need to be aggressive and wild? That no matter – how much you try to give them a balanced upbringing they will end up ‘being boys’. That they will prefer the boll over the stuffed toy?

So then I wonder – were our forefathers right in raising boys and girls differently?

Out of the Box

2006-12-07T15:09:00.000-05:00

Ok, I'm really not into stealing other people's ideas, but this one is hilarious. One of my dear ex-bosses sent me this forward. I liked it so much, I thought, I must share it with you guys.

So here goes:

Imagine this ...

You are driving along in your car on a wild, stormy night, it's raining heavily, when suddenly you pass by a bus-stop, and you see three people waiting for a bus:
1. An old lady who looks as if she is about to die.
2. An old friend who once saved your life.
3. The perfect partner you have been dreaming about.

Which one would you choose to offer a ride to, knowing very well that there could only be one passenger in your car?
* Think * for the answer before you continue reading...

This is a moral/ethical dilemma that was once actually used as part of a job selection procedure.

* You could pick up the old lady, because she is going to die, and thus you should save her first;
* or you could take the old friend because he once saved your life,and this would be the perfect chance to pay him back.
* However, you may never be able to find your perfect mate again.

The candidate who was hired (out of 200 applicants) had no trouble coming up with his answer. Guess what was his answer?

He simply answered: "I would give the car keys to my Old friend and let him take the lady to the hospital. I would stay behind and wait for the bus with the partner of my dreams."

Sometimes, we gain more if we are able to give up our stubborn thought limitations. Never forget to "Think Outside of the Box."

Now I wonder, why she sent it to me? ;)

Lage Raho (Keep at it!)

2006-12-06T00:35:00.000-05:00

The year 2006 will be remembered for its re-makes and sequels. What with Umrao Jaan and Don being re-made and Munna bhai, Hera Pheri and Dhoom having sequels.
I am not a big fan of sequels. Most of the time – I find they lack the soul of the original. Especially in Bollywood – a movie is made – if it’s a hit – then they think of a sequel.

Yesterday, we watched Lage Raho Munnabhai – a sequel to the immensely popular Munnabhai MBBS. And I must say, while I wasn’t disappointed, it wasn’t a big wow.

To begin with – I like Sanjay Dutt. He’s not a great actor or anything – but there is a certain likeability he brings to the characters he portrays. And what should I say about Arshad Warsi. His comic timing and the panache with which he delivers his tapori lines is awesome. Nothing over the top – and yet so funny. I remember walking on the streets of Bangalore with Arshad Warsi(while he was hunting for a lock or something) and the response he received from the aam-junta to his Circuit-giri, I was really stunned (more so since I hadn’t watched the movie then). And he is still good as Circuit.

The basic story line is the same – Munna is a golden-hearted goon and Circuit is his Man Friday and one man army. Munna falls in love with an RJ and in a bid to impress her builds up this whole charade of being a history professor. As compared to the original, things have gotten a wee bit serious here – what with Munna spouting Gandhi teachings. I must confess – things got a bit stretchy here. I thought the movie could do with a bit of editing here.

Boman Irani is as usual his funny-villainous self. Competent in that department. Poor Diya Mirza has been reduced to being sister/daughter in most movies these days. She is one actress – who I find has such exquisite delicate features. It’s a shame – she didn’t hit big time heroine-dom. As in all Munna-movies, the heroine, Vidya Balan here, doesn’t really have much to do. However, Vidya is quite a bright spark.

The icing on the cake – for me – is a cameo by Abhishek Bachchan. It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it appearance – but paisa vasool(money’s worth) for me.
Of course, alls well that ends well – Munna gets his girl. The girl gets her house.

I cant find specifics to complain about – but there’s that kick lacking in the sequel. Munnabhai MBBS had an intrinsic funniness and heart to it. Here Gandhiji sobers things up a fair bit. I was kinda waiting for the movie to end. Also, the original stood out for its use of tapori dialect. In wanting to professore-ise Munna in the sequel, the zing in the tapori-ness has been toned down. Sadly!
All in all a good movie – got a lot of laughs. Some of the songs are rather hummable.

I would recommend it to anyone – who’s missing hearing some tapori words. And anyone who needs some laughs.

Guilty as charged!

2006-12-01T14:06:00.000-05:00

For as far back as I can remember – guilt has been an integral part of my up-bringing. Whether it was “If you’re a good girl – you will share toys with your brother” or “when has our happiness mattered to you”, I’ve been there and seen it all.

In the beginning, it was fairly mild. About small little things. The ubiquitous “after all we’re doing this for your benefit” invariably got attached to most sentences my mother uttered. But as time passed, I guess we got wise to my mother’s words. Or maybe I got tough skinned enough to resist it.

That’s when I think she took up by a notch. Now “all our life we’ve done things for you – now when we’re asking you to do something for us – you won’t oblige us” that’s what I got told when I refused to doll up for some “girl-seeing party”.

After I got married – I thought the guilt trips would end. But I didn’t count on motherhood. Didn’t expect it to hit me with such a huge whammy. As a stay-at-home mom, the guilt of not doing enough to secure your child’s future was an all-time companion.

What I also didn’t expect was for random strangers to fill in my mother’s shoes. We were dining at a restaurant – when the waitress came by and offered us some meatballs. Since I don’t want sonny to eat red meat – I declined. She insisted that kids were enjoying it. I demurred again. “O its really soft – he will be able to eat it”. This time I was firm – and said I didn’t want to give it to sonny. So she pats sonny’s head and says “O you poor child – your mommy doesn’t feed you well” What???!!

That and many more such guilt trips have ensured that I don’t miss my ma being near me.

O yes, this entire recollection was brought on because of sonny. Yesterday he wasn’t touching his veggies. So I told him “Sonny, if you love your ma, you’re gonna finish those veggies.”

O la la…the cycle begins again! And this time – I’m the driver!

Sonny Speaks

2006-11-29T17:05:00.000-05:00

My reticent lil babbler said his first phrase the other day.
He said "Offo A(his name)" a la the old Promise ad. The verdict seems to be that these seem to be the 2 words I use most often with him! Its probably true - coz the only other word he says clearly is 'hi'.
And no, he doesnt say it on demand. So dada-dadi, nana-nani (paternal & maternal grand parents) who yearn to hear him speak on the phone - dont hear a peep out of him, but random strangers in the mall are told 'offo!'

Black Friday!

2006-11-27T23:13:00.000-05:00

Black Friday!! Just those 2 words can make my hair stand up at end, blood pulse faster in my veins, heart beat quicken and breathing become sharp! All that in a good way. For that is one day – when hubby and I go berserk shopping. Black Friday being that day of the year – when all retail stores in the US – offer enormous discounts to their customers – just for shopping at their stores. And by enormous – I mean ENORMOUS. It would not be difficult to find clothes selling for 25% of their retail price. Like this year, Best Buy was offering a 40 inch plasma TV for $1100. Hubby just couldn’t stop salivating!

Thanksgiving typically falls on the last Thursday of November, here in the US. That is one of the 2 days (the other being Christmas) when stores remain closed. The next day – is when US goes crazy shopping. They say, this is the day, US retailers move from red to black (into profit) hence the term Black Friday.

In our household (all of 3 yrs) Black Friday has special relevance – reverence too. A month in advance hubby starts to scan his fav sites to figure out – who will have the best deals in electronics (a.k.a. hubby’s toys). Sites actually put up deal comparisons for you to make your call – on which store to visit first. Door buster deals (very limited articles – at ridiculously low prices) are discussed, analyzed, dissected and recommended. On the other hand, I start making lists of the things we need (need being a word, I use loosely here). We compare our needs (again loosely used) with the weight of the deal and a plan is drawn up. Clothes, electronics, household articles, toys – we shop – like the US economy needs every bit of our effort! (and who knows, maybe it does!)

Well, all this, until last year.

This year – since we have been hopping all over the US – we decided to keep our shopping to the minimum – to keep our weight light. Hubby fought hard and won the right to first visit Best Buy (a.k.a. hubby’s Mecca) followed by some outlet stores. Sonny and I sauntered all over BB trying to look interested – while hubby enthusiastically looked around. After a while, we found hubby stuck onto one of those 40” plasma TVs. He was whispering sweet nothings in the TVs ears – promising to make a date for next year. Pulling a lovelorn hubby out of the store – I promised him – soon – he would be able to bring her home.

We headed next towards some outlet stores in the neighbourhood. Typically a large number of brands have their company outlets where they sell for less than retail. Black Friday further sweetens the deal. Hubby and I were pretty charged about finding some good deals there. As we neared the exit to the outlet mall, a horrendous sight hit us. The line of cars from the outlet stores entrance stretched out a mile long – in 2 separate directions, in a 2 lane street. Parking would be next to impossible, hubby pronounced. Not wanting to waste any more time, we reluctantly turned away. We decided to head towards the mall. Driving 20 miles – we reached the mall. Those deals made my eyes shine and hands tremble. Finally, I thought – this is where we ought to have come first.

That’s when I heard a loud piercing shriek. It was sonny. Demanding his afternoon siesta! With a heavy heart we turned homewards.

Our net purchases this Black Friday – a couple of pants for sonny and a music CD.

Truly a Black Friday!!!

P.S. My fellow shopper-bretheren apparently had a good Black Friday. Check this.

Whose Fault?

2006-11-24T23:34:00.000-05:00

In a large well known and flourishing company, a young employee is hired. He is eager, sincere and wants to contribute and learn. In his first year, he is told that he is entitled to some “medical expenses” as part of his perks. Our young man is in good health and doesn’t claim any expenses.

In his second year, the office Accountant, reminds him again, that his medical expenses are yet to be claimed. Young man explains his situation and his inability to claim “medical”. The Accountant then explains to our young man – the modus operandi to claim the money. “Go to a chemist cum general store, buy some home use articles, and ask the chemist for a bill for medicines and claim the money” Our young man does exactly that – and gets his money. Needless to add – he continues his practice year after year. Not just that – he “helps” other young men like him to “claim their rightful dues”

So whose fault do you find here?

The Accountant – who really is the door-keeper, yet knowingly misguides the young man. He probably eased his conscience by thinking that he was “only helping”?

The young man, who probably was in need of the money? Yet he ought to have realized that he was doing wrong. Perhaps he thought, he was entitled to it anyways.

The chemist who made a faulty bill? Probably he has made countless such faulty bills that his conscience was buried far too deep under them.

The Company for setting its rules so loosely and not having any check posts to catch wrong-doers? Or did the Company ‘want’ its employees to claim some ‘tax-free’ money? Just its way of rewarding employees. But doesn’t that mean that the Company is cheating the government?

Or all of them, in varying degrees?

Leave me your opinion...

And Action!!!

2006-11-23T22:31:00.000-05:00

Itchy tagged me a while ago to do a post on favourite scenes. Here are a few of my fav ones:

Andaaz Apna Apna
So many fav scenes here. The slow motion fight sequence at the end. Or the one where Aamir and Salman say "hands up" coz they have guns - and the rest follow them with their hands up.

Golmaal (old one)
Amol Palekar's mouch coming off - as he feeds on aloo parathas and Utpla Dutt saying in his trademark style "Khaao khaao - ab tumhe dande bhi khaane hain".

Sholay
"Tumhara naam kya hai, basanti" Unforgettable!!!

Anjali
The building kids teasing Anjali, tormenting her rather - and her bro and sis standing up for her. Really cried during this one.

Mr. India
The kids are hungry coz there is no food in the house. Sridevi brings them cakes, samosas, the hungry look in the eyes of the kids - but the self-respect which stops them from taking the food. Then Sri calls out to the youngest of the kids Tina - who looks at Anil Kapoor for approval. Woah - real tear jerker this one!

My Best Friends Wedding
The 2 best friends - Micheal and Julianna (Dermot Mulroney & Julia Roberts) take off a day before the wedding - take a cruise - and their song plays on the boat - and they dance in the afternoon sunlight.

Satte pe Satta
After Hema Malini takes a lot of effort to clean the house and cook a meal - she lays it out and calls the brothers. they all rush out - then wait for Amitabh to take his food. After he has served himself - they just break loose on the dinner table. Or the one where she throws away all the clothes for washing while the brothers sleep - and they have to come out of the room using props to cover themselves.

Saathiya
After their first fight - Rani Mukherjee makes a big cross on the calendar to remember the day they had a fight. Every time hubby and I fight - I remember this scene.

Dil to Pagal hai
Right at the end Akshay Kumar (who loves Madhuri Dixit) points to Madhuri and SRK and then indicates by getures that the 2 of them are meant for each other, then he points to himself and Mads and makes a fluttery kind of motion - we're just kind of ok. Even thinking gets me a lump in the throat.

Khamoshi - The Musical
The one with Salman Khan - when his parents come to visit Manisha Koirala's parents - both of whom are deaf and dumb - that dinner scene is sooo poignant.

Places to visit

2006-11-22T13:28:00.000-05:00

Artnavy tagged me last week to do a post on places I'd like to visit.

Here's my take on it

Places I’d like to visit

Not too warm, not cold either
Comfortable clean hotel, good food options available
A little scenery, some culture and lots of history
Preferably not a land of thugs and thieves
Where there’s enough to keep sonny enticed, hubby busy(Best Buy within 1 mile radius –BIG plus, free high speed internet – another BIG plus) and therefore me relaxed.
Where the American dollar runs a 100 miles (am I or am I not a cheapie?)
Where the sun shines not too hard, where the wind blows not too soft, where time stops not too long, where there was a civilization not too short, where the people smile not too much, where rain patters not too little, where food is spicy not too much, my heart longs to be there- o so much!

And if I have to define the places - Europe – all of it.

Specifically Rome with all its churches and cathedrals and museums,
Paris – I’d love to sit and idly have my coffee in the corner cafes – but I know that’s not possible with sonny around, potter around Le Louvre, take in the grandeur of the Versailles…
Spain – go during the tomato harvesting season and watch the tomato fights
Italy – the men….swooooonnn
Istanbul – people say it’s very beautiful
Egypt – mummies here I come
London – and say hi to the queen
Maldives – apparently local cuisine is something else
Bangkok – people tell me – street shopping is divine here
Russia – just have got to see St. Petersburg
Kashmir – but not at the cost of safety

O yes, all these places in summer. I hate cold!

But most of all I’d like to go home – where I haven’t been – in the last 2 and half years!

Teething Troubles

2006-11-22T00:03:00.000-05:00

At the very onset – let me tell you my problem.

Of the last 10 nights – I have slept through just 2 nights. All the others I have made do with 5 hours of sleep – the rest of the 3- 4hours, I have rocked, patted an extremely sleepless sonny. He doesn’t cry – just sits up in his bed – and tries to crawl out. Things came to a head on Sat, when he also developed a raging fever. It would come down with medication – within a couple of hours the fever was back, along with temper tantrums, irritability and of course lack of appetite. The funny thing is – I don’t know what’s causing the fever. No cold, no cough – nothing!
Last night for example, sonny sat up at 2.30am. He seemed soo sleepy but just wouldn’t sleep. I checked his diaper, checked the bed to see if he was too hot or too cold, checked his forehead to see if the fever was back. Negative on all counts. What could it be? He points to his mouth. “Is he teething?” hubby asks me.

Teething – the saga of my life.

There are some kids, who get teeth and parents don’t even realize when the pearly whites emerge. In our case – every tooth has been a story by itself. 5 to 7 days of irritable baby, not sleeping for hours at end at nights, food being rejected, the works.

I still remember when sonny was about 9 months ago – we’d just moved to a new city. One day sonny just decided to stop eating. I thought “at least he’s having his milk”. And what do you know – 1 week later he stopped drinking milk too. Nothing. A 9 month baby on strike! And I panicked. It was Friday evening and his doctor’s office was closed. The nurse I spoke to only fuelled my anxiety. She just couldn’t believe how a 9 month baby could go without food for 8 hours at end. And we tried everything, love, pleading, forcing, yelling. He just wouldn’t open his open. When 20 hours passed without food or drink – on the nurse’s advice we rushed him to the ER.

And then began the worst experience of my life. Sonny was mildly dehydrated. So they had to start IV. And they couldn’t find his vein. 3 nurses aides held him down while 2 nurses groped with needles to find a vein – while his hapless parents just stood helplessly as their baby yelled and screamed. IV started and sonny fell asleep – all that screaming tired him out. Suddenly a nurse appears. “we need to give him a painkiller” she says. “Surely it can wait for a while – he’s sleeping” I counter, “yeah, I know but we gotta wake him up” and before I can say a word, she’s grabbed his mouth and poured the medicine in it. And he’s up again – yelling, screaming and now tugging at the IV drip too. And still not eating.

Over the next 2 days, this cycle repeats itself endlessly. Sonny still not eating. Apathetic nurse after nurse waltzing in to pour medicine down his throat. Day 2 his lips were so dry – that the moment the nurse tried to pour medicine down they cracked. But hey, that’s not her concern – she just walks out – a job well done. As a parent I have never felt as helpless as I did those 2 days. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with sonny – so we couldn’t take him home. And he wasn’t doing good in the hospital either. Over those 2 days we heard all kinds of far-out stuff, “your child has an eating disorder”, “maybe because you forced your child to eat, you’ve psyched him”, “maybe the problem is you – not him – let someone else feed him”. Worse were the questions – “does he eat jello?” “How about popsicles?” “Can he suck on candy?” My mind is screaming “which 9 month old eats jello, popsicles or candy? In the land of the Deranged Uncaring Mom, maybe.”

Finally Day 2 – an Indian doctor walks in. We pour our woes out to him. By this time sonny was afraid of every stranger who wanted to poke into his mouth to see what’s wrong. He pronounced – “the child is teething. I’m going to prescribe a gel – use it 3-4 times a day and he’ll be fine”. Its takes 5 hours for the hospital to procure this OTC teething gel. Had we known – hubby would’ve just rushed to the Walgreens across the parking lot to get one.

Gel does its job – in an hour after application – sonny takes his first bite in 2 days. Our ordeal has ended. I can’t tell you how fast we rushed out of that place. It took a full week before sonny got back to his regular schedule.

They say babies don’t remember traumatic experiences. Mine does. He still wont lie down on strange and unknown beds – until we’ve held him for a while. He’s still scared of doctors – every doctor visit is a traumatic experience. He still wont let us feel his mouth – whether it hurts or otherwise. I wonder when he’ll get over it. Medicine dispensation is a Herculean task for us – no matter how it tastes (yes I have tasted his medicine, before I gave it to him).

“Is he teething?” hubby’s question breaks my recollection. “I think he is”. Teething gel application is a process, I shall reserve for another post. Suffice to say, its takes both me and hubby to get the job done. At about 6am sonny nods off. I wonder if the last 1 week’s drama and fever were a result of a new tooth coming in. If it was, I thank God – for this relatively smooth teething experience.

The World This Week

2006-11-19T22:27:00.000-05:00

This is this week's news headlines with my comments:

News Report: Soilder admits to raping minor Iraqi girl and then killing her and her family.
Wonder when Bush will admit to raping the country.

News Report: India improves its 'corruption ranking'. India less corrupt according to new study.
And exactly how much did we bribe to get that story?

News Report: Climate change an economic issue - Kofi Annan
When will the climate change on this issue? About time we did something to bring pressure on world leaders to take this seriously.

News Report: OJ Simpson to explain 'how he would have allegedly murdered his wife - had he done it' on a TV Show.
Time to drop the word allegedly and know the truth.

News Report: Suffering Husbands seek pro-men law in India
Ekta Kapoor's next serial will be a saga of the long-suffering man (aye aye - says hubby!)

News Report: Pakistan makes ammendments to Hudood Act. Raped women can now bring charges to a civil court too.
One small step for Pakistan, one giant leap for (wo)mankind.

News Report: Segolene Royal wins primary and seeks to be France's first woman president in 2007.
With Angela Merkel already Germany's Chancellor and Hillary Clinton looking set for US Presidency in 2008 - woman power sure is on the rise.

News Report: Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes become man and wife in a medevial Italian castle
Ah fairy tale weddings in the 21st century!

News Report: Blair admits war in Iraq 'has been a disaster'
Finally!!!

News Report: Dutch government bans the 'burqa'
Wonder what 'face-saving' measure the Muslims will adopt now.

News Report: Indian team loose to South Africa A team - in a practice match.
Practise makes one perfect - and Indian team has perfected the art of loosing!

News Report: FDA gives go ahead for silicone implants. 2 companies to study the safety & effectiveness for 10 years.
More booby traps ahead!

Heights!!

2006-11-17T09:57:00.000-05:00

Artnavy tagged me a while ago to do a post on heights. I put it in her comments section too – since I dint have a blog of my own. Now I do – on artnavy’s recommendation here’s my expanded list of heights.

Height of being offensive:
People taking one look at my sonny and saying "O he's such a beautiful boy. He must take after his father!"
Yes, thank you for noticing that I am the ‘not good looking one’ amongst the 2 of us

Height of taste:
Sonny refusing food, but chewing on the paper napkin used to wipe his face.
Or is it that - he prefers the taste of paper to the taste of my cooking!!

Height of intrusiveness:
An acquaintance visiting our home takes one look at the curtains and says "these are lace - how do you guys do it, without the whole world being able to see through the windows?"
Seriously, what will you ask me next?

Height of happiness:
Sonny’s giddy laugh, when we put him in the bucket swing at the park and give him a shove.

Height of blues:
Celebrating festivals just by yourself, far far away from your parents.

Height of wonderment:
When I look at people with 8 or 10 kids, instead of thinking 'how do they manage to raise so many' I wonder 'when and how did they manage to conceive so many?'

Height of possessiveness:
Sonny pushing his father aside, so he can hug his Ma instead.

Height of neatness:
Sonny neatly arranging into piles the contents of the dustbin he has just knocked onto the floor.
What is it, that attracts kids to trash??

Height of peace:
When Sonny sleeps zzzzzzz....

Height of materialism:
My 16 month olds clothes occupy more shelves than my husband and my clothes put together.

Height of depreciation:
My mom lamenting how she hasnt seen her grandson yet- and now he's 16 months old. The fact that she hasn’t seen her own daughter since the last 2 and half years is completely forgotten.

Height of divine justice:
The girl who invariably gave dirty glances to parents of noisy kids at restaurants, is now blessed with a noisy brat herself.

Height of morbidness:
Dried flowers. I just don’t get how people can have dried flowers in their houses. Its such bad Vaastu too.

Stalked!!!

2006-11-16T10:44:00.000-05:00

We’re doing our weekly groceries at Meijers – when I sense someone staring at me. I surreptitiously glance over my shoulder and I see a young man, seemingly of Indian descent looking in my direction. As I turn to him, he looks away. As I move onto the fruits section and then onto meats, he’s follows us there too. When he catches my eye in the seafood section, he nods a hi – I nod back politely. I wonder if he's following us and then I notice, he's been pushing an empty cart.

While I am picking up baby food – I overhear hubby talking to someone. Since hubby is not exactly very friendly to strangers – I look to see who he’s talking to. Ah! Its guy who’s been following us! He asks hubby for phone no. Hesitantly hubby hands it over. He instantly rings back – as if to confirm. As if on cue – baby yells and hubby excuses himself. I ask hubby who he’s been chatting you – and find out its Arun Iyer – just being friendly. Strange I wonder – what’s an Iyer doing in meats and seafood?

Couple of weeks later – Arun Iyer calls hubby. He has an interesting proposition to make money “in one’s free time”. Hubby politely fobs him off, saying he’s not interested.

2-3 weeks later, a lady we’ve met once at the park calls me. “Where have you been?” she asks. I start my saga of viral infections hitting the family. She’s sympathetic. “So how’ve you been?” I ask. Wrong question to ask – she spouts the magic words “A friend of mine has a very interesting business proposition” and she hands over the phone to a friend. A very affable Rahul tries to give me details of “a profitable way to spend your free time”. Like a sentinel, hubby hovers close by mouthing “hang up”. Since I’m not too good at saying no, it’s a while before I can stop Rahul and tell him I’m not interested.

I’m wondering what’s going on. What is the whole Indian community in Chicago trying to get each other interested in? I talk to a couple of friends and they’ve had similar experiences too. Some had to be really rude to fob off their pursuers. “You got off easy on both occasions” says one friend, who’s been here longer and seen much worse. A friend was once apparently chased across a parking lot by one of these “A Company” people.

Sufficiently warned, I head off to Meijers again. As I am contemplating what brand of shampoo to buy, I hear someone behind me “Hi! Are you from India?” Barely glancing over my shoulder, I squeak “No I’m Canadian!!” (technically true) and I rush off.

One More Star

2006-11-15T11:43:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, my dear friend C lost her grandmom. Grandma lived a full life – she was 92 when she left us. In the end her heart just stopped beating – and she went peacefully.

My memories of grandma are pretty limited. She mostly kept to herself. However when we did land up at C’s place she was always bustling in the kitchen with C’s mom to make sure our hungry stomachs were taken care of. Or the fact that C’s hubby S called her ‘meri girlfriend’ – of course it took him a lot of effort to get to that stage. Or the fact that she hated ‘dal’ (lentils) cooked in a pressure cooker – she wanted them her way, open cooked.

She didn’t exactly have an easy life. Married at a young age – she was widowed early too. Life without a husband or child was rather bleak. And remember this was somewhere in 1940. She then adopted her younger brother – C’s father. She lived the rest of her life with them – helping raise C and her brother. Fittingly, C’s father was with her when she breathed her last.

The last year of her life was particularly tough. Doctors had detected a clot in her brain a while ago – and early this year she suffered a stroke. Parts of her brain stopped functioning. Like, she kept thinking that C and her brother were still little children who had gone to school. She kept urging C’s father to bring them back – since it had turned dark. The fact the both were married and settled in the US – meant nothing to her. Her movements got restricted, appetite dropped and pretty soon she became a mere shadow of the person she used to be. Always a strong headed person her demands became child-like. I remember C telling me – how they had to plead, cajole even try to hoodwink her just to get her to finish half a chapatti. I’m sure it was particularly tough on C’s mom who had always seen her as a strong, determined person.

On 4th Nov she suffered another cardiac arrest. This time it was even stronger. According to the doctors attending to her – she lost 90% of her brain’s powers. She had to be put on life support. She was probably suffering, being in a coma. And there was no saying how long she would stay in this state.
She’d lived a full life, seen mostly all she wanted to see. It was time to let her go. Time to ease her suffering. She passed away in her coma itself.

I’m sure the family will miss her presence terribly. As C said, “if there is anything as an after life or next life – I hope she has peace”.
Wherever she is, I'm sure, her prayers and blessings will always follow C and her brother.