November

It's almost the last month of 2016 and one is sure the year has passed by rather quickly. There wre many visitors in November . One long lost cousin and his wife were the most welcome visitors. With the husband on a constant travel plan life can get rather dull in this house, hence all visitors are welcome . Of course it also is an opportunity to go out and loaf which is what I love to do. Visits to the typical touristy spots of the city can give one a new perspective on life.

This was also the month of the one and only Hindu festival we celebrate which is Diwali but as no one was in a middle to celebrate what with all the illnesses and tensions of the pervious months we decided that this was a soundless Diwali. It was also the husbands birthday which always meant a party and even though he wasn't keen, the friends decided to cheer him up and landed up . It turned out to be a fun evening with gifts, food and plenty of conversations.

November on the whole turned out to be not a bad month at all. The weather stayed cool and pleasant even though there was no rain...if not using the fan is any indication, then it was a good month.

October

September passed quietly into October. I didn't feel the difference except that I was alone again with my mother having to shoulder all responsibility alone. Silver lining was that one sister was here for two weeks while the husband was off looking after his mother. Those two weeks were calm and relaxing. Just the freedom of knowing that I could go out without fretting or watching the clock, worrying if my mother would be fine, that is a great feeling when one is always tied down to the house. But two weeks pass quickly. I am still hankering after a long drive to the beach, or that weekend getaway that doesn't look like it will happen in this life. One week passes quickly enough. Ofcourse I've made the trip to visit the mother in law in her home and that's not too bad considering there are lots of people around to help and one is not required to do anything. It also felt great after ages to travel on my own to take my time wandering around the airport, to people watch. To idle away time on a bus watching the city pass by. I chose to travel during a festival and it's interesting to see how diverse India is and how the same festival has unique rituals in each city and town. Caught in a traffic jam caused but the milling crowds, I sat back and enjoyed the ride. I was in no hurry ! I wasn't required to be with anyone or any place at any given time so I enjoyed the ride while my fellow passengers who were all trying to get back home, fretted and fumed at the delays. Hyderabad is a city so easily recognisable by its religions. We pass through Muslim areas and the roads are lined with restaurants announcing all manner of biryanis and kebabs. It makes me want to jump off the bus and get a taste of this authentic Muslim cuisine. Then the city gives way to temples and Hindu festivals takes over. There are millions of people thronging temples, cows roam freely or are being fed in temples. Bright flowers in shades of saffron and  vermillion are piled up in abundance . I fall for them and end up decorating the front door with them. It all looks so beautiful.

Back home things have settled down to a not so bad routine. Towards the end of the month the husband is back and despite the somber mood we do have our first party of the season which turns out to be lots of fun, because our neighbours joined us with their dogs who managed to make the whole evening so much better. And thus ends October and it wasn't so bad .

September

September 2016 brought home the advantages of the joint family system. I've never been part of this system so can't comment on the merits or demerit of it. Suffice to say that when one has an ill person in the house who needs constant care, it makes a great difference if family members are around, the more the better.

 We had it all down to a system. Two of us took turns at cooking for everyone while one of us sat vigil with the mother. When meals were don't the cooks took to entertaining the mother. A whole month of non stop help can make one get used to it. The mothers recovery was remarkable simply because of the psychological advantages of having all the family around.

Even when the mother in law fell ill and the husband has to run off to attend to his mother,I was relaxed. The sisters provided much needed conversations to help with any lingering sense of stress. Not a month I want to repeat but was I grateful for all the help. Needless to say it's not a happy time when two parents are unwell and they live in different cities.

In our childhood being grounded was a form of punishment but today I've come full circle and in my twilight years I am being grounded by none other than my mother. I grew up in a pre smartphone era and my mom couldn't get hold of me once I left the house. Such freedom is unheard of in these the technological times when parents can track kids in every corner of the globe. Thank god my mother has never managed to get her head around the use of a smartphone and that is the biggest advantage. 

Ever since her stay at a hospital my mother had developed a fear of being alone, understandable in the circumstances too but for her, staying within the four walls of her home is not big deal. Infact,going out is stressful. Me on the other hand needs to go out at least once a day. Over the years I have learnt to outsmart my mother but as we got older together it's not easy to do the things one did in ones youth. Now I worry about her if I am gone too long. I return at exactly the time I've promised to be back and I curtail a lot of my outings. But to be confined to the house day in and day out with no social interaction can drive me crazy, so I start by going to the terrace to water my plants. This takes all of fifteen minutes , but I choose to have a cup of tea with the neighbour, do a spot of weeding, and stretch it to thirty minutes. My next step is to go vegetable shopping or shop for fish. My mother is a great believer in a bargain and fish prices are one thing we all agree on. If fish is going as less expensive as compared to the previous month then we have to stock up. Being gone for an hour or so if it's in the interests of buying fish, is fine by her but if it's a walk that I want to be off to then it's a strict no no. However having said that ,she does get bored of my company soon enough and it's simply a matter of time when I will be able to disappear for longer stretches. Until then I hibernate.

The ant chain

They form a thin line up and down,stoping on the way to chat with friends,give them news or happenings in another part of the line. I watch them go up and down in perfect harmony,no sign of a quarrel or even a cold shoulder. These are house ants. I find them snaking their way to a tin of rice. I decide to get rid of them. While I admire their tenacity and their sense of community and their alleged love of order and friendship,I do not necessarily welcome them into a tin of rice. Let's be very clear,the rice is mine and so is the kitchen and unprovoked intrusions will result in consequences. I fill a bowl with water and leave the tin in it. Most often than not a few brave ones will venture out and drown,then the tragedy will be transmitted fast up the chain and new strategies will be formulated. Ah predictable ones,that's exactly what they did. After the drowning of a few,some came out and circled the rim of the tin. It's a long climb from the bottom of the tin to the rim but they did it. Then when they realised there was no way to escape they went back and the entire community ,which till then was browsing among the grains,and after some kind of clarion call,all the ants got into a huddle. Suddenly there is a thick red ribbon of ants all clustered together and wondering what to do. I have to change track too. Should I put the tin on a hot stove and roast them?. Or should I wait patiently till they tire of hanging on the edge and decide to commit suicide. I've decided on patience,simply because roasting them would mean roasting the rice too and that wouldn't do me much good,so I wait patiently for all of them to kill themselves. As a veteran of many an ant war,I do believe I can outsmart them all the time.

Moods and doubts

The ordeal of the hospital looks like it's nearing an end and finally we are discharged and can bring the mother home. What perils await us is yet to be seen. Should we take her home in a stretcher or in a car. Without the aid of a lift who will carry her up the stairs....how will we keep her comfortable without the aid of a reclining bed....questions questions and hundreds of doubts....will we know what to do will we hold it all together...doubts like little serpents cream around the mind,digging little holes in my brains....the tower of strength is the husband...standing in the wings,he will jump to find solutions and good ones at that....soon her has found a boy young and strong enough to carry my mother up the stairs.... He gets my mother into the car and home....the first of the psychological battles is won...

There is something about being in ones own bed that can make all the difference.. I have cleaned the room to an inch of its life and the mother is soon settled in and made comfortable. The calm and collected doctor has given us all the pressure points to look out for. Mood swings,depression,anger,euphoria the works. She tells us we need to care for her ourselves,no hired help she says and I agree.

It's three days now and while the mother is motivated enough to do her exercises and makes attempts to work and keep her limbs in working condition,she is quick to worry,can get frustrated fast and agitation is something I would like to keep at bay. 

Furious she is when her alarm doesn't go off,she isn't happy with my rationing of her salt. Strict orders of three grams of salt (the amount allowed by the doctor) haunt me and my meals have become so salt less that they tend to loose their flavour....cooking for the entire family then is funny. More often than not I have forgotten to season with salt and when members of the family reach for pickles it strikes me that I ve forgotten the salt. Strangely I don't miss it too much thought the mother grumbles constantly. I am turning into a food nazi but I have been so frightened it's expected to err on the side of caution.

Meanwhile we take turns to keep watch over our precious cargo and spend sleepless nights and sleep filled days and count our blessings and do the best we can.

Every morning is a challenge and every night so far,one of thanksgiving.

August...come she must

August,half way through the year and not a happy month at all. The first week is a mad rush to get the mother tested and checked for all parameters and I heave a sigh of relief when it's an all clear. The. It's time to go for a wedding out of town. Travelling after eight months can be a daunting task but it's managed and it's good to meet the rest of the family and attend all the functions associated with weddings. Sometimes stressful but not all bad,we are so busy that one doesn't realise how ten days pass. Back home everything seems under control and life continues as usual. I meet my friends at a wedding and we all have a good time but the fun ends right there.

It's a normal day and everything goes as routine until midnight. The mother develops breathing problems and we rush her to a hospital and into the intensive care unit. From there onwards it's a nightmare . Everything swirling out of control. No end in sight,the mothers spirits sagging and the rest of us in a state of anxiety and despair. It's slow progress,with everyday being a new challenge. The doctors speak in different voices. One is the optimist ,she is always looking at the bright side and insists that progress is good. The junior doctors don't say much but the specialist doesn't give us much hope. Going home seems like a distant dream,recovery seems like a distant dream,quality of life seems like a thing of the past.

We end August awake in a hospital room,watching over the mother,the silence of the night broken only by the beep of machines recording pulse rates and breath levels.

As September is already on us,the vigil continues and only time will tell what the new month holds for us.

Disclosure

The witching hour is upon us,the streets are deserted,not a mouse stirs in the silence. Lights have gone out all over the city's and people rest in deep slumber. Traffic has slowed to a mere trickle. In side a hospital room I sit vigil besides my mother,my only companions are her steady breathing,and a beeping monitor.

The day started with news that we had a test appointment for one o clock. It sent me into a tizzy resulting in feeling sick and troubled. My prayers seem to be hitting a wall,I am left in limbo. Am I trusting too much on myself. Isn't it true that one must believe in all things,have faith that all will be well in gods own time?...yes true but as usual I worry. 

God and I are currently playing cat and mouse. I pray for courage,it fails me,I pray for strength ,it fails me,I pray that my mother must become fine,but everyday is a challenge.....I despair.a

By evening I have found courage, despite a lack of sleep I've driven my car with more confidence than ever before.,I've found strength and my mother seems in a better place for a while. She actually sleeps.

Now why I wonder doesn't God answer when I ask. Why is there this necessity to wait,to make me despair,to test me at every moment. No answer. I cannot but believe that the God I believe in is a shrewd operator. Do e really appreciate the things that come easy,to we really remember God when all is well,do we acknowledge his presence if there is no crisis....true on all counts where I am concerned.

So I have to be taught to appreciate kindness,compassion,and love. I need to understand that nothing that is thrown at me is beyond my capabilities,that I won't be tested beyond what I can handle,but those are limits that are set not by me

Don't for a moment think I've had a revelation,it's a slow acknowledgment of collective wisdom. My school friends have been pillars of strength. All of them have experiences of pain and tragedy. All of it involves parents ,and all of them share the same experiences. They have all knocked on heavens door and they have all come out stronger. 

Non religious girls who tell me to pray,girls who tell me God works miracles. Girls who would never discuss their fait,now share without restraint. They are my support systems. A shared childhood,a long gap of not knowing where we all were and now as we all face our biggest tests,they come in droves,with help,advice and support. So I say thank you,not just to technology but to an all seeing God. For teaching me humility,for giving me family,for the wealth of friends and above all ,for a mother who even in her pain,holds out courage and concern and who will always be my biggest and best role model of inner courage

Animal farm

Two beautiful funny dogs have given me enough joy and stories,and now there is another. Animal lovers can sometimes be intimidating,their zeal can unnerve the not so passionate ones. I love animals,but I don't feed strays,I don't keep pets,and neither do I rescue animals. A friend started with one cat and now has a house full of them and many more being fed on a daily basis. How do neighbours put up with it I wonder.

Recently we got new neighbours,who came not with children,but with the two madcap dogs. Crows which hovered over our terrace now act like they own the place,the pigeon population has increased and the battle line have been drawn between the crow and pigeon camps. All this made possible by a daily feeding in the mornings. The happy fall out is that they no longer find my vegetable seeds exciting so perhaps I can grow my own vegetables without worrying about protecting my plants.

A fierce barking and much excitement by the two dogs got my attention today. I walk up to find our what the fuss is all about,to be encountered not by two dogs but three. A beautiful black retriever wags her tail at me and makes herself comfortable in my feet. She was rescued this morning from a neighbours house where she was abandoned. My animal lover neighbour like my cat friend has slowly but surely brought in more animals. Do we have the heart to refuse shelter?,not even my not so animal loving husband ,can say no. So that's how it starts. Suddenly going too the terrace is an incentive. The dogs have added value to my garden and my animal loving neighbour hasn't gone quiet the way of the fanatical animal rights activists....so for the moment I am enjoying the company of three dogs,one of whom is without a name. With the birds and dogs around one is wondering when this city residence will become animal farm

The scan

After a long time perhaps years,the three sisters sat down to have a chat about a procedure that the doctor ordered. Doubts rage in our mind,we have different concerns and the only way out is to speak to the one doctor we trust. So we do and our hearts are a little at ease. 

The morning is an ordeal,I am sick with worry,memories of previous ct scan rooms haunt me. Claustrophobia sets in ,I pace the floor of my house,cook with a vengeance and can't sleep. Then it's time to get my mother off to the scan place. All three sisters gather with one brother in law (two of them are on permanent driving duty) and we wait while our mother is loaded on to an ambulance and whisked off....we follow in the car. One sister as usual is a picture of calm.the other is tight with tension,while I oscillate between calmness and stress. 

Not for the first time I thank German engineering. The scan machine is sophisticated,and non threatening. It's been ten years....I took my 85 year old father  to get a scan done and history repeats itself. I have a morbid fear of the age eight five. It was at this stage that my father got a stroke and went downhill all the way. As we celebrated my mothers 85, all the anxiety associated with that age came back and unfortunately I was once again confronted with that dismal feeling of deja vu

I don a radioactive protection suit and sit with my mother for the duration of the scan and then we get back. I am as usual running on tension fuel ,sleep deprived but high on stress. The mother as usual rises to the occasion and is not as stressed. Does having all her daughters around her give her confidence,does she's just not have to worry that I am doing all this alone. Perhaps,I will never know,we don't have such discussions in our family but for now I am glad of company and support.

Mother notes

Sarcasm is my mothers favourite form of defence and not even illness or hospital beds can't blunt that.

If hospital food is bad,it's a lot worse for someone like her who is a brilliant cook. On her first day ,aghast at the quality of tea,she insisted to giving the staff a masterclass on tea making.

My eldest sister when left loose in the kitchen,can become the queen of cutting corners. With two fish to feed six people she cut it up into bite size pieces and saved it for lunch. The husband who is used to my mothers generous slices of fish was not sure what he was eating. The mother wasn't a used....a resigned shrug was all she could manage that day but on the next when the said sister,decided to ration all the meat in the house and to serve vegetarian meals in some days,the mother had enough. She quickly brought it to the notice of the daughter that this was. It acceptable. Ever since her first question to me is what the menu is ....

Being somewhat small physically she tends to slip down the large hospital bed. At regular intervals we have to prop her up and it's no mean task. My second sister and I managed it between us and her response was that there are some virtues in becoming fat. Was that a back handed compliment? Knowing my mother I doubt very much

Her constant observations of the staff can keep us in fits. The cleaner girls with their garish earrings get maximum attention. She cannot understand the need to wear such stuff when cleaning bathrooms. Doesn't say much for fashion sense according to her.

Then the nurses,she has her favourites. A chubby,bubbly girl is the one she likes best and one can't blame her. The girl breezes in with a chirpy good morning and my Mother's Day is made. She has managed to get all the little details of the girls life out of her ,has discussed her hometown and what it's famous for...the mother has also extended an invitation for lunch to the said nurse.

Not so much love for the night nurse who gets on her nerves....from calling her a bean pole to claiming she gives herself airs,there are no end to complaints. Not unwarranted considering the girl inflicted pain with her incompetence and had no solution to problems.

The doctor ofcourse is well loved but when she starts her lecture on the dos and don't s of recovery my mother claims the doctor was on a lecturing mood....what she didn't mention was that it was too close to what her daughters have been telling her....what she also didn't admit was that she knew we had put the doctor up to the lecture knowing the scant attention shed pays to our pleas.

The male nurses are her favourites,young boys who can lift her on to the bed with ease always come in first on her list of nice things in life...needless to say the boys in question are both well mannered,respect age and are super efficient.

Her assessment of human nature may seem flawed but when one is 85 ,life itself has taught her much. More often than not,she is right about most of them and God forbid we disagree.

John,Peter,thomas and three sisters

Three sisters brought up by same parents but all as different as chalk and cheese. The eldest married for some forty odd years,is a calm woman,whose faith can literally move mountains. Very involved in church activities,with a huge circle of like minded church people,she has not really been alone to fight battles especially the spiritual kind. She finds the bible relevant and not intimidating,she finds the christian life secure and not under too much stress. Over the years this fellowship has strengthened her faith and it keeps her calm in crisis,dramatic in normal like and dreamy at other times. She can quote the most appropriate verse from poems,bible,literature and there is never a dull moment. While her eye for detail leaves a lot to be desired,her presence can calm my mother like nothing else can. In a crisis she can use her age and cunning to get everyone to work as she demonstrated rather ably in hospital today,getting a solution to a problem which neither my second sister or I would have achieved. 

We decided to liken ourselves to biblical characters and the eldest was chosen to be John. He supposedly was the calm one full of love who was entrusted to look after Mary the mother of Jesus . So trusted and dependable in crisis we think

The next one is always highly strung,more so if it involves her family. Many a crisis she has faced unfazed but can go completely to pieces when the mother is in hospital. She will micro manage every moment. In her eagerness to be useful she can get in the way of progress. Trust us a big issue,she can't trust anyone. She will try and help the nurse because she can't be sure that she will do her job well,the weary nurse is too tired to protest. She will get her anxiety to scary levels and expect doctors and nurses to scuttle around like we are the only ones in hospital. She will clutch at all the negatives and imagine thee worst. We decide she is Peter,impulsive,she was quick to deny Jesus a minutes after professing unfailing love and loyalty. Like Peter who thought he was too low to have his feet washed by Jesus (when that was what Jesus wanted to ) my sister is always wanting to give her family love and loyalty but finds it difficult to take it. Unlike the older sister, she has no fellowship with people of great faith so has to muddle along with little spiritual understanding. This naturally doesn't do much for an anxious person.

Cut to me,the youngest. At thirteen I had my first encounter with fear,the fear of loosing a parent. My mother went hypoglycaemic on Christmas Eve and I was a terrified teenager. My father too busy having a blast at a Christmas party ,was of no use. I did manage to find one person in thee neighbours Christmas party who was sober enough to help and so we managed to revive her. That was my first brush with having to take responsibility and it hasn't stopped . Over the years I have had to earn my living ,look after parents as they got older,dealt with doctors,hospitals and numerous care givers,and it hasn't been easy. Finding it hard to ask for help,and troubled with a fear of imposing on anyone,I try hard not to even ask my husband for help. Growing up in a family with an uneasy relationship with church and all things religious,my faith was developed in school at a very simple childish level. Not for me the high intellectual discussions of bible study groups or Christian conferences. Not for me the fellowship of church people. With more non Christian friends and a husband also of another faith,having live in the cut throat world of media professionals,I do tend to have a more liberal approach to life. Christian friends only encouraged my deep suspicion of all things religious. My background was of deep distrust of the church and clergy and neither has proved me wrong. I rage and fight and struggle to believe,to have faith. In a crisis I will pray fervently but can never see or understand what my eldest sister would call as gods plan. I believe in doing everything that I can possibly can and then leave God to work his magic. Because I haven't been in the company of many Christians and because the few I have checked out have bored me to tears with their self righteousness I have avoided fellowship of any kind. I am scared of being judged immoral or unchristian in a strict moral world of church people. We likened me to Thomas ,doubting thomas,he needed to see the wounds of Jesus to believe in the resurrection. 

So between John,Peter and thomas ,it looks like the tree sisters are slowly but surely learning to appreciate each other's strengths,and supporting each other's in faith. How much will we learn from all this I wonder but instead of being a doubting thomas perhaps I must learn to deal with stuff with a little faith

Time hangs

Times hangs heavy in a hospital room...the silence is broken by the beep beep of a heart monitor,the hum of the air conditioner and the slow whirl of the ceiling fan. In the hospital bed my mother lies tossing and turning in a never ending dance if discomfort. Hour after heavy hour I sit watching over her,the feeling of helplessness in danger of overwhelming me. All around the city sleeps,darkness punctuated only by dim street lights and the eerie wail of the ambulances that ply the roads,taking critically ill people to hospitals ...families living in hope,despair and helplessness.

I try reading,I write,I pray anything to keep busy,anything to dull the pain of watching a parent suffer. Its small relief. Laboured breathing breaks through and I am brought back to reality with a thud.

The slow dance of a modern hospital is one of continuous medication,injections,blood tests or other tests...followed by physiotherapists...why I wonder don't we have palliative care...why are old people not just made to feel comfortable instead of having to put them through all these procedures. Why is palliative car such an unattractive field of Medicine even though it's so critical.

I am trying to be brave,you will hear my calm voice and see a cheerful face but inside me I am dying,slowly but surely...it's hard to keep up this pretence but for my mothers sake I have to. I plead everyday to God for strength to carry on. I am glad I can write it all down,it's easier. It's release.

It's seven hours to dawn and I can't imagine what to do with the time. Did I ever wait for time to fly. If I didn't before then I most certainly do now. There is nothing more to say..I am reminded of the poem which we learnt as children. That which we are we are,one equal temper of heroic hearts ,made weak by time and fate but strong in will,to strive to seak to find and not to yield 

Battling

One day all is well and in the very next everything is spiralling out of control. It was a perfectly normal Sunday and my mother was in the kitchen doing what she does best ....cooking. Here health was according to all intents and purposes,good considering her age. So what happens when she suddenly goes breathless and fights to keep her head above water. What does one do in those circumstances. It is the nature of human beings to fight for survival and my mother told me what to do and which hospital to take her too. Far too many times I have worried if I would get an ambulance on time,would it make its way through traffic fast enough. I have worried myself sick that I won't know what to do in a crisis,in short I have had niggling worries at the back of my head ever since my old parents have had to depend on me for health. It's been eight years since my father passed away and while I have come to terms with it ,the experience has left its scars,the suction machine in a hospital frightens me,lots of things scare me so when my mother took I'll in the middle of the night I went on auto pilot and got her to the hospital and into a sick room ,called her doctor and then waited and prayed for strength for me and my mother. I also called my sisters to get some physical help.

I stayed as calm as I could despite my heart beating like a drum,despite it sinking inside of me at the truma that she and I were about to face. I didn't shed a tear,my mother calmed down. I gave her some confidence,whispered into her ears that I would be with her every step of the way and prayed.

Today three days later she still fights for breath. My own stops in time with hers,my heart races and I fear for her. I hope that my sisters arrival will ease my stress but it doesn't. My mother has got too used to me,she needs me around to give her confidence. She thinks I know it all when actually I know nothing.

Eight years ago I sat as I do today pouring my angst out on this blog sitting in a hospital room . Today it's a deep sense of deja vu. I am sitting in almost the same position,the room faces the same direction and my mothers laboured breathing fills the air. She is on a machine which beeps. The lights are bright in the room and it's not a nice place to be but it's probably worse for her. What thoughts rush through the mind of an 85 year old in a hospital bed fighting to breath. Does her life run through in memories. My mother has battled many a storm but has stayed strong. Lesser women would have given up but she fought . Today's I fight my tears,I fight to stay strong for her. To see her to the bitter end without giving up hope. I tell myself that while there is life there is hope. I ask God for strength and courage and I wait as I did once before. Do we get used to it? No,it's a battle we all go through,each in their own way but a situation one can never avoid. 

Suffering

Waiting for someone to fall asleep is hard. More so when the person is hooked up to a machine and is in distress. Worse when it is someone you love and can't imagine doing without. I spend my nights in a hospital room watching my mother swing back and forth . We are still not sure what to do. All we do is wait...and endless wait . I am tired but this is not about me,it's about my mother and the quality of her life. What do you wish for a woman who has had a hard life?. Is it asking too much that she must meet her maker in peace and suddenly or must she suffer the indignity of a hospital bed hooked to multiple machines,with no respite from medication ,injections,and lab tests. Isn't it enough that her children are around to help. Isn't it enough that much has been done to make he life comfortable and that the end must be peaceful. What is the point of so much suffering. Life must in due course bring pain and suffering butt modern science seems to have made a fine art of keeping people alive through technology's though knowing very little than before. In times gone by people live and died without the aid of hospitals or medical science. As a ripe fruit falls to the earth when it's time has come,we did that too,dying in peace with our families around us,happy in the knowledge that we are loved.

My uncle died at 97 without seeing the inside of a hospital,another friend is hundred and one and is sleeping more than he should but is not suffering. He hasn't seen the inside of a hospital either. What did they do different. What did my mother do to have to go through all this pain. Is there a purpose to all this. If so I can't see a reason. My elder sister has gone through three such incidents and is a little more familiar with the routine. Being a calm person she seems to deal with it better. My second sister has had only one experience and is so anxious she makes everyone around her nervous too. But that is her way of coping with the situation. And there is me. All my life I have lived with my mother or she with me. Our lives are entwined with each other's. She knows my every mood and I know her. No one seeing me will imagine the storm raging in my soul. I pray,I rage but it's all internal. The pressure to hold it all together is getting the better of me. Ofcourse it's a lot easier this time because there is support in abundance but I can't see this day and night I can't see the end and I can't see how we will cope with this situation. My faith fluctuates swinging like a pendulum. I am tempted to give God my shopping list,but I know he's not interested. He know what I need and will provide. Don't for a moment think I am asking for my mother to live forever. I am realistic enough to know that she has to leave some day,but can't she do it easier?...couldn't she have had a fever or something as unserious. How do you deal with a lung collapse of a woman who has not had a cold in years.

I can feel my heart racing I can feel my blood pressure rising. I know this is not about ,me but a I feel her pain. Every laboured breath is like it's mine. Every distress sign is mine. The monitor mocks me all night throwing up numbers that can rise and ebb with equal measure. I sit through the night watching her sleep,praying silently that she must rest. I fell like the criminal with Jesus on the cross who asked if "you are the son of god why don't you save yourself and us". I feel angry that she has to go through with this. In a country of billions of people human life has little value and medical science is a billion dollar or more industry. It is expensive...critical care is expensive,home nursing is expensive and we are at the mercy of large businesses. Falling ill isn't just about the suffering of the person concerned. It's also about not having decent infrastructure to heal or to offer palliative care. So unlike countries where people's dignity is important or quality of life is important,here we just keep things going. 

When will all this end and how will it end. A family history of bedridden siblings haunts me. Each one of my mothers siblings have had painful prolonged suffering. What did they do to deserve it I cannot understand. My fathers siblings didn't suffer too much but he did. His end was painful but certain. My mothers suffering is not in the same category. It's neither here nor there. We could take her home. We can make her sit or walk. We can do all that but only with the aid of an oxygen mask. We are not medical professionals,we have zero nursing backgrounds so what do we do. How much care can we give,will we give her a decent life or one of a mere existence. Questions a plenty but no answers in sight. And so we wait and watch and suffer with her....until God in his heaven decides what to do

The Lord provides

Count your blessing name the one by one and it will surprise you what the Lord has done. Lines from a favourite old hymn which we sang as kids. Today I list my blessings because without the guidance of God and his goodness nothing in life is possible. It's not about large miracles that will get one a sainthood. It's the small everyday things that are miracles at work 

I worried about the night,I worried about my mom having a nigh emergency,the Lord worked his miracle,the night emergency made sure we didn't have to battle peak time traffic,the ambulance could get it us in time

I worried about the doc on duty not being upto date on my mother,I worried that her regular doctor wouldn't be informed on time. The Lord guided me to call her,long ago she volunteered her mobile number so I could call her. Long ago my father stumbled on this doctor which has led to this forty year long association. I see in it the hand of God 

I worried that I would have to handle it all alone,I worried I would be too tired to keep the pace being older than the crisis last time. The Lord sent my sisters without ado,my calm elder sister and my hyper middle sister. The Lord guided us to see strength in each other and to use it for my mothers well being. 

I worried that I couldn't sleep and that time in a hospital room crawls,that the night would stretch and my tensions rise...the Lord provided me with technology. I can pour out my thought,I can read a book without light,I can see the night through and keep my mind occupied. Near provided

Through every emotional battle I have had a husband who stood like a rock behind me. He is the rational being to my emotional one. He is the one who can take decisions when I go to pieces. He balances me...the Lord found him,against all odds...different culture,different religions but minds that move to a beat...could I ask for more?

I dread spending nights in hospital with a sick mother...the Lord provides...the hospital gave me a nurse to help me out to keep a tab on my mum...we had a conversation...I tell her I have lived with my mother all my life,I tell her how difficult it is to keep distance and to be detached....she tells me I am lucky to have had so much time with my mother,she tells me she lived in a hostel from a very young age and that she didn't get a chance to spend as much time as I had....she is young,has a sister with a same name as me...she asks if she can read what I write....we have things in perspective,I enjoyed our little interaction...the Lord provides 

I am learning slowly but surely that in the best of times and in the worst of times,it's important to count our blessing and name them one by one....I wonder what make that person write the hymn. Did he know it would bring comfort to people in distress....he probably wrote it from some perspective of his time....but it comes to me as clear as a bell...the Lord provides.

Mother of mine

Not being a mother myself I can't understand mothers love for her children. Do they'd always know what they need. Will they always put their children's needs before their own. Will they always anticipate their children's every move. Will no sacrifice be too large or too small where they are concerned. I don't know hoe it happens but my mother lying in a hospital bed fighting for every breath is still concerned about her children. We a all adults,none of us is even young,but for her we come first no matter what. She tells me I should catch some sleep,she thinks I need my rest. How can I explain that her every heartbeat keeps me on tenterhooks and that I cannot sleep. I am shivering in this cold room air conditioning on high and fan at speed. She notices that through he haze of suffering and asks me to turn off the airconditioning she would rather feel hot than allow a child of her s to be uncomfortable. I cringe when I realise that her first thoughts are of her children. She has lived her life sacrificing all for us. Weathered the worst storms for us. Given us the best of everything. Cooking us our favourite food even at 85. Holding our hands through ever up and down of life. I watch her through the night miserable in her suffering,helpless as I can ever be. Nothing I can do or say will ever amount to even a bit of what she has done for me....how will I ever do anything to match what she has done for me. If there is one wish I have today's it would be to take away her suffering. I would like to take her home,minus the machines. I would like to take care of her every need,to cook her the favourites she taught me. To make her comfortable ,to surround her with love. But I can do none of this. I simply have to wait ....pray....and hope.

From despair to hope

Yesterday I felt like Hannah in the bible. There I was in a hospital room having a raging battle with God. First was pleading,begging,which then slowly turns to anger,to despair. What happens when one is prisoner of ones memories. A first traumatic experience of seeing life ebb away was enough to scar me for life. Much as I deny its existence the memories pop up like bad pennies. More so when a medical crisis occurs involving an old parent. The need a blood test they say and try to draw blood. Twenty minutes later there is no progress....the last time this happened it was the end. This time I am furious with God. Why oh why I ask do you test someone so much. What did my mother do to deserve to go through this trauma. Why do some people live medical emergency free lives and drop dead without much ado ? Questions for which I have no answers. I pray for twenty minutes and nothing happens. Few hours later the doctor arrives. She as usual is well groomed,ready smile on her face,twinkling eyes and a positive attitude. She is pretty much half the solution. She always focuses on the positives while delivering not so good news in a way that doesn't get one all het up. She tells my mother she is on the mend however slowly,tells her she should be able to go home soon. Gets a lot of stuff organised the moment my mothe complains of pain and leaves the room with good cheer behind. My mother comes to life again. Then her cousin decides to visit. A cousin who have been in and out of hospital,who is so ill that I wouldn't recommend she travelled as far as she did to meet my mother. Her husband all of ninety and suffering dementia also comes along. The laught and the warmth they radiate is so uplifting. She is such a source of strength. Nothing worries her,she can laugh at her lack of hearing. She tells my mother it's a huge joke that they meet despite my mother saying they may never meet again. She tells my mother that she is going to be fine,sharing similar experiences that she has survived. As both ladies are deaf to a degree,her son and I do all the transcriptions. Her son has to deal with both parents single handed and he is calm and patient. I watch and marvel at their attitude. What am I complaining about. Here I am with enough infrastructure on hand so why a, I raging with God. They visit ends and my mother and I have a good gossip session . She talks nineteen to the dozen and I am happy to go along. She tells me how frightened she was and we share our fears. At the end of the day I am far more cheerful than when I started,having had a bath,a good sleep and seeing my mother in better spirits. It's a far more humble person talking to God now,someone who has learnt that as a human it's ok to argue with God,it's ok to despai but in the end there is a quiet confidence that the good lord above has enough ways to deal with my pain,enough ways to teach me things I don't understand and in the process make me a better person

Dull July

When July came along i was quietly thankful for the blessings of six months. Months that went by without much drama. When one lives with an old parent then every day is a miracle. Every day we live to tell another tail so no drama on the health from is good. Unfortunately when one has old parents,chances are that most of ones friends are in the same boat. Most of the old people are the ones we have known since young adulthood so any tragedies that strike our friends parents ,strike us too ...in many ways it's a shared pain. So when at the turn of the month my friends mother was diagnosed with cancer at the ripe old age of 88,it was a shared pain. How does one comfort when one is too involved. Messages and emails don't convey the empathy one feels at such times. But we muddle along offering small comforts. Sometimes it's just knowing that ones friends are around for moral support and that's the best we can do. This news was followed closely by a sister having all kinds of problems with her health which ended up in her needing surgery. The sister in question is a bit of a drama queen and while she is low on facts (simply because she probably thinks it's too boring to share) she is full on stories. Unfortunately as I relay her stories to my mother (always censored for her ears) the mother goes into a tizzy. Not being a mother I can't relate a hundred percent to her feeling of anxiety but I have to deal with that. The second sister in question only adds to my stress levels as she imagines the worst possible outcomes but these fears are not relayed to the mother but between the two of them and their stress,my stress levels go up. The moth in the meanwhile went through a painful process of what we call old age aches and pains,which gets me all nervous in the light of all the ill health that was happening around me. I did wait for the month to get over as soon as possible.

While it wasn't a bad month,suffice to say it wasn't a happy one either but in the end it was over and am I glad of that.

The best of friends

We met some thirty odd years ago and the only thing we had in common was to use the same bus stop or to make a dash for the loo which was two buildings away and still manage to get back to class on time. Over three years or so a bond formed and though we were like chalk and cheese there was something in the relationship which kept it going. We continued to visit each other in different cities and while her friends were the pot smoking,rock music types who talked philosophy over drinks,I a managed to blend in a bit. Was it just curiosity on my part or just the need to meet people outside of my comfort zone. I was the conservative type and wanted to finish college,get a job earn some money and get on with it. She wanted to do research ,practise psychology,become a therapist,travel the world and do fun stuff. I also wanted to travel and do fun stuff but economic security took precedence over all else. I saved,she spent. I jumped relationships got my heart broken,picked myself up and finally met someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She had plenty of friends the world over,never had a serious relationship,lived hand to ,mouth and was happy. In fact we were  both happy in very different ways. Somewhere over the years our bonds grew stronger. She moved countries but we stayed in touch,technology came to our rescue and we kept in touch more often. We even managed to meet in different countries and despite being so different we could come up with identical lists of things to do. I worry about her,that's my job. She will talk me out of it. Long after other relationships have fallen by the wayside we continue to be friends,the telepathy continues as it does in relationships that have survived over the years. Would marriage and a husband play havoc with our friendship would my priorities change?. I did wonder but it seems the husband and she get along like house on fire. They can discuss me like I don't exist and I am greatly amused. They talk cricket,I can't stand the game,they discuss my total lack of discipline which gets their collective goats but I couldn't care less.They have tried knocking sense into my fairy brain but I continue to dream and all the while the twosome friendship has now become a friendship triangle. It's wonderful when one can marry ones best friend and keep the other best friend at ones side. As we grow older we thank technology which allows us to text when our hearing slows down,we can FaceTime and see each other and despite and ocean and a continent separating us,we stay firm friends. I am still wondering how we can be so different and still have so much common ground but such is human behaviour and I for one am happy

No time to live

Some twenty odd years ago when home loans were being made available,and buying an apartment meant a big of scrimping and saving,I decided once and for all to buy and apartment. A roof ove my head along with a job meant independence from the tyranny of the landlord and living in constant fear that just as one was getting comfortable one would be expected to up and go. Hunting for an apartment wasn't easy and one had to consider many factors before one ventured into buying also one had to like the place,the locality,take into account cost of transport vs savings etc etc. Most important of all after identifying these parameters ,was to actually like the layout of the apartment. I was looking for light airy and spacious ones and find it I did. Not much space but perfect for a couple. The second time around after some five years I found another apartment applying all the same rules. A few modifications later I had what I wanted. 

Now I read some of the glossy ads for buying apartments and I am totally baffled. Did the world change so rapidly. Did requirements change so much.i ask myself (after reading about private terraces,swimming pools,tennis courts etc etc....) how does one buy a home looking at these ads. I am yet to see an ad that gives the layout of the flat. I am assuming most people still live in apartments and not in swimming pools and gardens. Let's look at things one by one. The private terrace garden. For once gardening is a tough ask. One must like it as an activity and it takes a lot of time and effort or before you know it it consumes you with weeds. So how does one find time for this assuming one is working. Really one has to be working to afford any of these apartments ( they don't come cheap). Not only must you be working,the salary should be fairly fancy,which means blood sweat and tears. So while it's nice to come home to a garden,who exactly is going to look after it. Alright let's get to the pool and the walking track and the yoga studio. Let's assume you leave home at 9 am (lots of people with this kind of money and that kind of location ,are working shifts so 9 am is a tall orde) and come home at 9 pm....it's too late to garden as one won't know the weeds from the plants even in a well lit one and plants do go to sleep you know. So let's assume it's time for a swim. Till ten pm for a one hour swim,dinner at ten thirty,watch some tv admire the view and hit the bed at midnight . Wake up at five,go for a yoga class till six,read a paper,grab some packaged microwaved food for breakfast. Rush out of the house at seven thirty to beat rush hour traffic....you get the point. So what if there are all the amenities for a fantastic live. It defeats the purpose. In the rush to get so much done one is left with little time to enjoy it all,food become some processed stuff which one is picking off the shelf of a store so gone are the fresh produce which you the ad claims will be eating because,and this takes the cake and the baker....you will be gardening in your own vegetable patch....laughable or what. I read it all again and realised that marketing today is building up dreams that have nothing to do with reality. I wonder if the copywriter in question has even seen a garden or spent time running around growing vegetables and doing yoga and swimming etc and yet getting a life. By the way not one word about the. Size of this fancy apartment one is going to be living in but if my guess is right,it might resemble a five star hotel room in any city simply because that's what the clientele is used to. Thank god I don't need to buy an apartment in this day and age ....happy am I who can swim,do yoga, garden and grow my own veggies and eat fresh,get time to smell the roses....but I had to give up a fancy salary to get all this...and that my friends is the reality.

Summer

I did promise to write up a review of the month that was,just to keep up with my failing memory and to count my blessings. All to often we focus on the negatives,the things that went wrong and in the daily grind of day to day living it's all too easy to forget the good times. It seems May and June and gone by and for some reason I haven't made a single note of these months so let's club them together.

Every year the advent of May is not a happy time ,for those of us who live in this city it spells dog days ,blistering heat and untold misery as we sweat and tire ourselves out coping with the heat. This may our prayers were for courage and fortitude to be able to face it all despite growing older. It's also a scary time when one has an old person to look after (though the old person in question just gets on with it and can't understand what the fuss is all about. However we were in for a surprise. Not only did the temperature not cross into the 40s ,we actually had some rain and pleasant weather. My guest in May was the nephew who stayed for a week. Normally I don't entertain guests in May and June but thankfully he came with good weather following in his wake,so it was a good visit with plenty of good food which didn't give us heartache or rIse our blood pressure. The mother was glad to have her grandson At home and we were glad of the company. All in all a good month. 

June I am happy to say was one of the better June's in a long while. An unexpected visit from my sister was fun for us and after a break we were invaded by my neice and her brood. Having four children in a house that is essentially child free,meant that we had to child proof the house. Off went cushions ,table cloths (small children have a habit of pulling at tablecloths and bringing everything crumbling down) indoor plants were sent out and all breakable so were kept out of reach. Menus were drawn up,entertainment rosters dealt with and we got down to business. All children were read the riot act as soon as they arrived (in the past they have broken a few things so rules were framed to prevent such disasters)... They arrived and in a small flat four children and two adults kind of filled the place so in five minutes gone was our well planned child safe environment. Mercifully these are by far, well brought up children who actually understand the meaning of no and yes (in my limited experience most kids think these are words to be ignored especially coming from adults). Our neighbours dogs kept the youngest child entertained though at one point I was worried that the dog mistook the child for his dinner (not that he looked anything like the dogs dinner). The husband was official child minder while I retreated to the kitchen which is my place of refuge. My mother ofcourse simply got down to enjoying her grandchildren and her great grand children and basked in it. Ofcourse snacks were her doing so banana fritters which are a favourite with the kids was very much on the cards. All too soon three days were over and our guests were ready to leave and a few days later the month ended but not before I got myself off for a few days of swimming which thanks to the mild weather was possible.

So despite all the gloom and doom in the world two of the worst months turned up to be by our standards,not bad at all.

April is the cruelest month

April is the cruelest month wrote t s Eliot and it sure was one for us. As April began so did the heat,from the first week to the next the searing heat intensified into a heatwave across the south with madras being by far the coolest hovering between 39-40degrees c. It was also a month when my mother turned 85. Eighty five holds untold terrors for me. At 85 my father had a stroke and a man who was very much master of his life,grew old and grey overnight,his memory at odds with him,struggling to maintain his sense of ease and for me that age will always remain a frightening prospect. Small wonder then that I wanted to indulge my mother,something I never managed with my father and which to this day makes me feel guilty,but as I can't change the past I decided to control the present. My sisters were informed that it was a special day(something they should have known for themselves but one can never depend on my siblings to do much about it,hence the reminders). Miracles do happen and both turned up as promised (I neve take their promises too seriously ,they being infamous for breaking them,actually just one of them but then...) and my mother was super delighted. Our ex cook also turned up and cooked up a storm which made things a lot easier( my mother at best of times refused to exit the front door so all celebrations must come to her).

In the midst of all the happiness was great sorry. One of the cousins,the one who help everyone of the cousins on my moms side together,who was the fountain of all news....suffering from cancer she was on her last legs and as April came along I was mentally prepared for her death. But it's never easy especially to think of a brave woman (who in the face of suffering,could still crack jokes and keep us amused) dead at 63. We believed she had more years left but that was not to be and two days before my mothers birthday she passed away. To keep a grip on grief and to pretend that all is well,isn't easy either but knowing my mothers fragile psychological state,I kept the news for until after her birthday. The rest of the month passed in sadness. There was a wedding which wasn't talked about much,coming as it did soon after the death. The heat took over my sadness and as i wilted and suffered through the days,I did stop to count my blessings. I was happy that the birthday went off as it did,I was glad that the heat was not as bad as it was in the other states,I was happy that despite the heat the mangoes ripened and the market was full of fruit.

As May is on us I wait for the dog days to begin. 21 days of relentless heat is what I am in for and every year it gets worse,and every year my friends and I mourn about it like its something new and by the end of it we learn to adapt and forget as the weather turns .

Mad March

Mad as March hares I've been told from early days. It's a birthday month and we didn't have a single guest. After the hectic February March was relatively tame. Twice a year both times in March we make it a habit to go out for lunch ....it used to be dinner but that has stopped since the old mother came to stay. Having been doing this for eighteen years and having come away disappointed because the food wasn't so great or the price didn't justify the quality and realising that if one is a good and innovative cook then (other than the hype and the chance not to be in the kitchen for a day) it really isn't such a big deal after all to be eating out . This year we called out ex cook back to cook for both days. He made all my favourites,entertained us with tales of his life and cooking and all in all saved me the cooking and we enjoyed it all and we're happy not to have gone out after all. 

The heat on the other hand has been edging up to summer levels and the air conditioning had to come on. On the exercise front we managed a respectable number of hours and I for one managed to stay meat free thanks to a group challenge for lent. Not to say I wasn't looking forward to Easter. By good Friday my meat cravings looked like it would make me give in to temptation but one did manage to last the course. Unfortunately nothing positive in terms of weight loss or even lost inches to talk about so other than proving to myself that I could handle a food challenge,nothing else to write home about.

My straggly container garden long in need of some attention got a much needed makeover thanks to unearthing a Gardner who actually knew his job. Suddenly it's all looking a lot better maintained and some fresh soil had done wonders. My vegetable garden had come down to some basics so the chilli and tomato ,basil and rocket are all flourishing and it's a great joy to harvest ripe red tomatoes and birds eye chilli. Considering chilli hasn't been my strong point it's great to see them bloom and ripen .

A quiet March and a restful one at that and once again a prayer of thanks for seeing us through the third month of the year.

Farmers markets,Indian style

Many trips abroad to little villages have made me an ardent fan of the farmers market. To me it represents all that's good about food producers knowing their food and being passionate about it. It's a hunting ground for home made produce,cheese from small farms,olive oil and the handmade soaps and other produce. Ofcourse cured meats are a big part of it. The emphasis is on healthy eating and nothing commercial is sold. It's all about small holdings who use the traditional ways of farming,cheese making and curing meats. There are no labels screaming vegan ,gluten free or organic. I must admit that my experiences abroad have been limited to European villages.

In India the farmers markets are mostly about fruit and vegetables,also some baskets and other home needs. I love going to them as the vegetables and fruits are fresh ,most often than not the farmer has grown it himself and it for a short durations thanks to not having the benefits of refrigerators. There are no fancy produce there just locally grown produce. In the hills ofcourse one get a differs kind of fruits but they will be misshapen but sweet and natural.

In madras I have been searching for a market but most of them are in the part of the city inhabited by the well healed (read rich and famous) and are frequented mostly by people who suffer from what I call food guilt. Most people are on diets,giving up on one food or the other because it's the current trend but they will have enough research to prove all its benefits. To someone like me (who believes in eating all foods that are local and in season and who has no fear of oils and fat and who eats anything that once walked the earth or swam in the sea) food guilt I can't relate to. Last Sunday I finally got an opportunity to go to a farmers market. The address already told me the kind of folk that would frequent it but go I did. There were many a wilting vegetable and all of them said organic and farm fresh. Kiwi fruit on the table. Since when did that become local?. Home made cakes and brownies and cookies yes very nice . Cheese from the hills was good too. Honey from farms all over India. Good but not enough information on how the bees are kept,the farms that they are reared in but the people in the stall wer friendly and knew some stuff but I suspect they are distributors and not the actual bee keepers. Some of the flavours were suspect but I did buy a natural honey. Homemade pickles ,yes I did pick a few but sad to say my mothers pickles are far far superior. The soaps all handmade and well packaged but having bought some handmade soaps from a farmer in Germany I was a bit disappointed at the total lack of fragrance. Plenty of clothes but sadly nothing suited for the heat of madras why not just stock cottons linens and mulls. There was one shop with linen but ofcourse it was way too expensive. The herbs sold were all from the hills and no one in the stall could tell me if they could be grown in madras. Ofcourse enthusiasm was very much in evidence and all of them telling me it will grow but having tried my hand at growing them and knowing full well that it won't take root,it was disappointing to note that no one in the stall who claimed to be farmers ,had actually grown them in the city and tested it out. Altogether not a bad experience but as expected the place was full of well dressed stick thin women and the stalls were mostly manned by young things with their Apple computers at the ready,well dressed,very much on diets and a passion for food guilt. We wer allowed to taste a lot of the produce so I had stuff made of mullets,rice with husks still in evidence and everyone beaming at me and telling me it is all good and healthy . Point taken but what about taste. Thank god for samples,honestly if healthy means tasteless I would prefer an early grave thank you very much. So for now I will continue to research the so called farmers markets until I find some where the farmer (even if he or she can't speak English) will be on hand to explain what it takes to have grow the produce and why he thinks his methods are good and sustainable,until then it will just be another outing for me

Fun February

February is one month that's short on days and full of demons for me. Ghosts lurk in the corners of everyday and I live in constant fear of something going amiss. Many February s have made me fear it for its unhappy turn of events,so it's not unusual for me to not look forward to this month. This year the husband decided to disappear for a week visiting his parents so the start of the month already looked bleak. Deciding that I must lay to rest some of ,my ghosts,I decided to fill my days with company,and invited a friend over for tea. This meant having to clean the house with spit and polish and bake a cake or two,and kept me on a feverish high. The friend although she came late,cheered me up no end and it was a fun evening. Then things got a bit better. A nephew who we hadn't seen in a year landed up for two days but extended it for a week and the mother and I had company to keep us going. Being a chatty type once he gets started he kept me entertained all evenings. By the time the husband came back I was well into entertaining mode and decided to gather all my childhood friends for a meal. Ofcourse this turned into a right Royal riot. The girls all landed up loaded with sweets and all manner of  stories,jokes and laughter. Some we hadn't seen in thirty odd years turned up and the lunch extended into tea and the noise we created was so much for an otherwise silent home ,that the neighbours wanted to know what was going on. Following close on the heels of the schoolgirls was the elder sister,quiet unexpectedly. Resident clown and all round entertainer she kept us all in good humour for three days. A breather of a few days and the other sister and husband also land up in yet another unexpected visit . Their stay for a week brought to end and eventful February where I didn't have time to brood,or think and where despite all the guests I managed to keep close to an exercise routine,managed to stay off meat for lent and managed to stay sane and stress free. It was almost like Christmas came in February and for that I am greatful.

High on a bullet train

It's eleven in the morning,the train station of Santa Maria novella is crowded with tourists. It's not a very large station but is noisy and busy. Yet it's clean ,people walk off the trains and exit without a fuss. There are no large families crowing around meeting and greeting . The sign boards are clear. Our train is a high speed one to Roma termini and will go at a speed of 225 km/ hour. The countryside goes past ,large tracks of grassland mountains in the distance thick forests of pine and local trees. Tunnels abound on this stretch. People  toil on the land and it's currently sunny and hot. The train itself is far better than the etihad flight we came on. There is enough leg room ,air conditioning works, and it's soundless and fast. The husband is already comparing it to India,wondering if such a train can run between Bangalore and madras. I have to gently remind him that in India bullet  trains are the stuff of election campaigns and slogan shouting. It takes political will and a sense of duty to ones people to provide such facilities. In my lifetime I would be surprised if we saw anything like this. Ordinary people travel on this train. In our country if and when it did happen it would be out of reach of the common man. I decide that this is a futile exercise and concentrate instead on enjoying the journey. After all it isn't every day that I travel across Italy on high speed trains. 

My geography lesson

Geography,the study of regions and terrains was a favourite subject but as one grows up,it's impact on the humans living in different regions can't be emphasised more. From food to culture to attitudes geography plays a vital role. In lush green surroundings people are are passionate about gardening,growing their own vegetables and fruits,the convert excess to wines,liquor and all manner of vinegars. If winters are harsh,meat is cured,fruits preserved and vegetables pickled. The harsh winters makes for a robust physique. Most often than not the harsh winters makes people speak out exciting sport,skiing,mountain climbing,snowboarding and others. Their cultures are different too. Mountain people tend to stay close to each other knowing that the elements can change their lives in minutes.

Move over to the deserts. Flying over endless miles of sand dunes it comes to me that this endless brown arid terrain without a trace of vegetation can drive anyone crazy. The sand is fine and treacherous. It's misleading,distances become mirages and people can die in intense heat. Searching for water is the biggest obsession and when they find it then life starts. 

Brown and green,white and blue seem to be the predominant colours of geography. The Mediterranean on the other hand is all shimmering blue and rich in vegetation. Sometimes I think they have the best of everything,mild temperate climate,and vegetation that can grow in sunlight and rain and mild winters. Small wonder then that they claim to have the best diets. Talk of balance.

Then the Pacific. A large continent like Australia is a totally different place altogether. It has it all,the sea,the desert the island feel the outback and a small population so far away from the rest of the world that they are a law unto themselves. Laid back ,happy outdoor people,with the occasional headaches of migrants and boat people.

My reflections are all limited to my small holidays taken abroad. They have no factual strength but I was never strong on facts. To me watching people,connecting them to their environment,observing their lifestyles teaches me lessons that no geography class ever did. I combine my learning of geography with my study of psychology and the combination is fascinating. Listening to Europeans who lived at the time of the wars,to understand what it's like to be bombed,to watch refugees struggle to escape and then find that they have jumped from the fat into the fire,it reinforces that our perceptions move us to places,places where we think we will have a life,places closer to our homelands but entirely different and I wonder....would I have the courage to uproot myself ever from my comfort zone or does war and famine and repression render people choice less....I keep wondering and learning

Counting blessings in January

As the year draws to a close I ask myself ...was it a good year,or a stressful one...and for the life of me I can't remember. Of course my mind is like a sieve and has been so always but this year the decision was to record all the good things that happen month on month. I've decided to make 2016 a year of counting my blessings . Will I carry it through is a million dollar question but let's make a start.

Jan 2016 slid quietly by just as I wanted it too. All that noise and partying are things of the past so except for the crackers shattering the silence for an hour or two I slept the sleep of the dead and woke up refreshed. The mother for some reason gives us money as gifts for the new year and even though we don't need it we accept it with gratitude and it makes her happy. Adding joy to someone's life can be quiet pleasurable.

My container garden flourished and bore fruit despite some of my baby plants had to be rescued from torrential rain which vey nearly killed them. It is getting a kind of pattern now and doesn't look as disheveled as it did a month ago. I hope to harvest some cherry tomatoes very soon. 

 Our first guest of the year arrived and even though the visit was only for two days it was a relaxing time for me spending it with a friend and her mother,both of whom I have know for close to thirty years.

A friend who has shared many joys and sorrows and who's house was like a second home for me until she went away across the seas to England. Despite extending invitations year on year she has never come to stay but did so this year. To see her relax and to see her mom eat my food with relish was such joy. Time well spent catching up on conversations.

Our next guest was a couple very much like us albeit much younger but we share the same love of all things food and as my basil plant was growing into a little tree we invited them for an Italian meal to relive our experiences of Italy and to indulge in some good food and wine. An evening well spent and lots of fun.

Jan also saw a reasonable amount of swimming in the new pool. Smaller and shallower than the old one it nevertheless stand in the shade of some high walls and trees so swimming in the afternoon heat isn't as bad as it was in previous years. Not having a clock means that I manage to have long pleasurable swims.

My great love of all seafood has me checking prices on a daily basis and what joy to find fish prices dropped in Jan. The fridge is now so full of fish that I can indulge my passion for fish pickle,fish and chips and everything else fishy.

The mother got a clean chit from her doctor and seems in high spirits which is a blessing.

The mornings are still cool so walking hasn't Ben painful and leaving windows open to fresh air is an added bonus.

The first month of the year has sailed past and it's been a good one.

Warm January

It's a warm January afternoon and I am half way through a novel on racing. The description of the race course,the imagery of the place are all so wonderful and calming and for a moment I thought I must try and describe my surroundings. Of course compared to English country side,the dusty descriptions of an Indian city can hardly compare but this is my home and my life and perhaps,just perhaps,it may be interesting to those who live amongst beauty and don't quiet appreciate it.

It's meant to be the coldest month in this part of the world but the temperature hovers around thirty degrees centigrade,the sun shines brightly. The room is full of furniture of a bygone past,all scavenged from ansestors long gone or from parents still a around. Clothes pile up for ironing but the ironing man doesn't come (we hardly iron our own clothes nowadays,this is a land of pelenty of people and everyone needs a job).

The air is thick with traffic sounds,an ambulance with sirens blaring comes around almost every hour. The trees are heavy with dust and the only birds one hears are the crows. Silence is unheard of in this town. Houses are stark all concrete and glass adding to the insufferable heat. My thick red curtains keep out most of the light in an attempt to keep cool. The fans whirl non stop and the house is filled with the aroma of a thousand spices. Food is served piping hot and it induces a sense of lethargy which invariably means afternoon naps are the order of the day. The sound of water trickling isn't from any brook or stream ,it's from a tap, a car being washed of the grime of a journey or two. Dogs are being cooled down by warm tepid water. Hot water runs in our taps,boiled by the sun,plants wilt in the heat and it's not even summer.

I walk in the afternoon heat (with dust rising with every footstep) to a swimming pool to exercise and cool off. The water is hot but a few laps and one is happy. Desert like flora offer some shade and the afternoon calm is only broken by the pigeons dipping into the pool to drink of the water. It's all silence here and I can only hear my feet and arms trashing through the water.

This is a day in a hot tropical city where cold in unheard of,where the heat rises each year making it hotter and hotter. There is no respite but in its own way this is what I've lived with all my life and if rolling hills and horses were what I was offered ,yes I would like that too but sooner than later I would want to come back to the familiar heat and dust of an Indian city.

Goodbye Germany

Finally the holiday ends. A mixture of seeing places,living like locals and generally doing nothing. I have experienced extreme heat and cold and must admit that there is something very alluring about temperatures in single digits. A part of my heart lies in Germany simply because it's a beautiful place unspoilt by tourism. If there are any tourist they are Germans exploring thei own country. Difficult to find English speaking tours here. Most people wonder why I make my trips to Germany.  Friends apart,it is a beautiful place for many reasons. It's cities have some old building,it's weather is mild to cold everything one imagines of Europe. The people are conservative,thrifty,hardworking and practical. I rarely have come across a stylish German. Sold footwear and well wearing coats are more their thing. Contrast this with France or Italy and one has only to look at the woman. All high heels and high fashion they are a treat to the eye. The style can be intimidating but in Germany it's fine to be unstylish.

The landscape again is almost like England,with lush green fields,cows,horses and farms. Farmers markets abound and the fruits and vegetables are fresh. Small farmers sell local produce,and are proud of being local. The food unlike Italy and France is nothing to write home about. It's solid meat ,potato and salad and of course the pickled cabbage and some others. The beer is splendid in its variety. Even in the cold they can drink chilled beer and be happy. One doesn't have to worry about wine etiquette,unless one wants to or would like to be a snob. 

Quaint little dolls and garden gnomes do every garden,the forests which inspired the brothers grim ,continue to bring fairy tales alive. Many a tradition is unique to Germany.

Germans have no problem acknowledging their religion. They are Christian and proud to be so. I was surprised to see an entire story on immigrants based on the bible at the airport,but in now way does this belief infringe on another's freedom. For a history that cannot be forgotten,this belief comes as welcome fact. 

Being green is not an alien concept for the average German ,as is obeying rules. Does it ever occur to them to break a rule?. Perhaps but not too often. Trust is another big thing here. They actually trust the government and their people. They will faithfully bag garbage in to organic,plastic and paper waste. Bottles are recycled into green blue and white bottles. No one makes a mistake on the colours. In my country to get people to bag garbage is a huge task leave alone asking them to segregate it ,unless one is a snob or the foreign returned rich Indian who likes to think they are different from others and who live is gated communities where it is easy or the in thing to do.

I have learnt to wipe kitchen surfaces and keep it all sparkling something I find difficult to do in ,y own house

Of course like in all countries they have their issues but a German would be shocked if a system in his country didn't work. Efficiency is a given and for me it's amazing how everything run like clockwork. Never have I had to wait for a bus beyond the time mentioned. Trains have come to the same platform that they were promised to arrive on six months ahead. The order in contrast to ,my chaos is what brings me back. In small towns women and girls walk home late at night,run in parks any time of day and despite being deserted,they have no fear. I loved walking here in the sure knowledge that I was safe. Never in all my life have I felt so safe,not even in the suburb wher I have lived all my life. Why do I take the car out even to go a short distance in the night? I have to constantly look over my shoulder if I walk alone in a deserted street and fear is always around the corner. I know there is crime in this country as no country is perfect but one is almost certain that atleast eight percent will be punished for their crimes. Isn't that a great way to live. Yes life isn't easy. No servants,no gardeners even if you have a garden. All the work to be done besides holding full time jobs. Shops close at six thirty in the evenings. No one to iron ones clothes,or wash ones dishes.....yet for all those luxuries in my country I would happily trade it for a hard but efficient life the German way.

The past and the present

All it was ,was a memory of forty odd years ago ,of childhood summers spent in a house many miles from the place I call home. A large six bedroom house its gates heaved under the weight of colourful bougainvillea in a riot of colours. This was where we would swing to and fro just for the fun of it. The main door had four panels with wooden stoppers,those doors have long passed their prime but the old houses keep them. The garden between house and gate was filled with fine pebbles that crumched as you walked up to the front door. No one could come in unannounced you were heard before you were seen. A veranda skirted the house on all sides and this was filled with potted plants of roses,poppies,strange colourful leafy varieties of croutons. The living room had a red carpet running all the way to the back of the house. Walk through the door and one enters a room that had no real purpose except to serve as a meeting place for all the family. The dinning room was a long corridor and behind it on the outside ther was a chicken coup . Fresh eggs had to be collected everyday for breakfast.

Childhood was spent roaming the grounds behind the house where all manner of fruit and vegetables grew. Menus were decided on what was in season and children like us had the pleasure of plucking anything that was in season.

Years later with the grandparents dead the house went to rack and ruin. It's silence was defending at times,no children played on the lawns,no adults had heated discussions and slowly the flowers died of neglect and the fruit trees turned to birds to keep them alive.

I return with my memory intact to try and re create the memory that is so fresh in my mind. I remember the steep road that led to the house and I recognise the bus stop but for the life of me I cannot find the road. There is no address ,for in those days we had only to name our grandfather to find our house but finding someone of that generation is difficult. The main road is packed bumper to bumper with cars ( in our days a bus was a rare occurrence). We have to call a cousin to get directions only to find that we have gone on the road twice but haven't found the house.

Forty years and development has taken its toll. The road has been widened to accommodate all ever increasing traffic and our beautiful pebbled lawn has now become road. The wide sweep to our front door is gone. My cousins have sold part of the garden and in the place of mulberry bushes and cashew nut trees,we now have an ugly tin building. Finally thanks to a frail uncle ( the purpose of the visit besides the memories) sitting in his easy chair watching the world go by,we find the other house in the same compound. It's more modern than I remember I bu it holds no memories. I rush back to the old house to take some pictures. The backyard remains the same wild and overgrown and I recognise some vegetables of my childhood. The side road is still the narrow country parth it was those many years ago and the front door hasn't changed but it has that sad depleted look of a country house once a glorious landmark ,now stripped of its grand status or does one as a small child see things much larger than I now see it as an adult? Whatever the reason I decide to hold on to my childhood memory. It's a lot more real,a lot more colourful and no fancy photography is required to hold it safe in my mind.