Small shops and romance

Suddenly there is a profusion of supermarkets in my area of the city(I suspect this is the case in most parts of the city).They are all air conditioned,have numerous staff and are well stocked.In addition their prices seem so much lower that the local chaps.I wandered in the other day but despite the good looks and the swank interiors,it lacks one basic ingredient.Call me old fashioned but I like the fact that my local veggie man will enquire about my family,office and then tell me his story or the current gossip,he also know what I am cooking that day,we exchange recipes and if i run short of money,he knows i will be back so he lets me take the veggies on credit.I go to the grocer next door and the story is the same.I have know the owner from the time I was six,when we took the bus at the same bus stand.Today I can walk in and ask for stuff if I cant find it on the shelf.He know what i buy so will let me know if something I like has come in.
All of these little social interactions are missing in the big format shops.Yes they do have the fancy herbs,the salad veggies and all kinds of exotica but is that everyday life?
It hit home today,the need for patronising the local chaps,the local produce.The veggie man looks rather dull in spirits and when I asked he mentioned that the competition was eating him up and it was only a matter of time before he closed down.He made an interesting observation."mam he said.I operate this shop to earn a living and the big guy over there operates to reduce his income tax".What a telling example of the new economy.The large reliance fresh shops are not very well occupied.Their veggies are anything but fresh and while there is a lot of hype and hoopla there is that basic interpersonal and social exchange missing.Its so much a reflection of our insulated lives that we live in flats and don't know our neighbours,we invest heavy amounts but don't interact with the person on the other side.We bank on the Internet and all we get when we call is a recorded voice that's used by most services.
Where is the personal touch,does efficiency alone matter(even that is debatable what with the call centre culture and everyone doing just a limited operation).Business is all about human being in the end.Its all about communities,its relationships and no amount of large formatting,air conditioning,computerization and gizmo's will replace that basic need for human contact.Its small wonder then that in countries in Europe there is a movement to patronise produce with in a particular geographical range,they have rediscovered the need for human contact,but sadly by the time we realise the value of the small farmer and the small shops,they would long be dead and gone.In the meanwhile I continue to shop at the local small stores because I know them and because I have a relationship going with them.I may pay a little more but oh the joys of rummaging in the sacks fresh from the market,haggling with him about the quality of the wares and the general freshness of local produce will still hold all the romance of shopping for me.

In thunder ,lightining and in rain

Its a beautiful day today,there's rain and thunder and the leaves on the trees are a new green,the colour of freshly drenched leaves.The large windows of the house ensure a beautiful view and the day is just right for wandering around,under an umbrella.Unfortunately no one in the house shares the enthusiasm.For starters,the mother is terrified of thunder and rain depresses her.The husband on the other hand thinks this is perfect weather to watch a movie and eat hot spicy snacks.So here I am a poor old enthusiast trying very hard to drum up some spirit.
With all my pleas falling on deaf ears,I decided to take the law into my own hands so was busy getting ready to walk,umbrella and shoes at the ready.Unfortunately the mother spots me and all hell breaks loose.She is convinced that I will be struck by lightning or crushed under a tree(never mind that there are hardly any trees around) and her hysteria gets to me(didn't know I was so wanted,guess i am expected to feel loved etc etc but this is a bit much).So as a compromise i take the car.Its great fun to drive in the rain,hardly any traffic and I simply love the sound of splashing through puddles(would love to be barefoot and splashing but good daughter that I am i defer to parental authority).Glad to escape and be out in the open I head for the library,later it seems like perfect weather to have a cup of tea with a friend and catch up(she was here the last morning so nothing much to catch up so obviously she is an escape)I had every intention of going to the nursery to check out some plants,veggie shop to chat with the veggie man and get some fresh veggies but all that is not to be.Damn the mobile phone,I cant ever escape any more,I am always found.Its the husband wanting to know if I was planning to come home(the veiled glee in his voice is a dead give away,the mother had got to him).A lecture later I am home to face a happy husband(trilled that the mother is going on hammer and tongs at my irresponsible behaviour.....being out in the rain in a car if you please)and a hysterical mother.I fail to understand why she has such little faith in my driving ability or my simple common sense.I am convinced my mother has regressed to the time when I was a teenager.Now I am constantly monitored,she needs to know where I am and who I am with(its no help that the husband is lapping it all up happy that the mother is able to achieve what he hasn't in ten years).Well it looks like I have been outnumbered so here I am a forty year old teenager who has been grounded for not keeping curfew.Oh dear c'est la vie.

Bling,government offices and life

First it was a visit to the post office,then to the telephone office.In the past these offices have been places so depressing that one would avoid them as far as possible.Dust everywhere,files creating walls instead of cubicles and people with attitudes to match.If any work got done it was between tea breaks,lunch breaks and so on.
Obviously competition makes a big difference.The BSNL office was actually air conditioned,they could process my request online,people were polite and took time to answer questions.They actually asked us if we had feedback and what not.
The post office was even better,air conditioned,all the women in uniform and counters well marked.Obviously the competition from courier companies and the email makes for a change in attitude and environment.
One thing though hadn't changed.Every woman worth her salt in both offices was loaded with jewellery.I counted a minimum of four gold chains each in varying weights and sizes,bangles that could make enough sound to qualify for an orchestra.As many rings as there are fingers and earrings glittered all around.
The jewellery market is obviously in the pink of health and will continue to be so provided these woman continue in government offices.
That brings me to the next topic.All of them had enough money to buy all the things that their counterparts in other offices could but the priority here was jewellery.Was it peer pressure or just the way of society.We talk of socio economic class,defined by household income and education but what we fail to put emphasis on is that socio economic class goes beyond household income and education.It has so much more to do with the kind of environment that one grows up in,the choice of schools and colleges,the work environment and the exposure to society in general.All things being equal,the environment hold the key.That really is what makes people different and that is the key to targeting,marketing and reach.Numbers are just that,indicators.

Attitude that kills

When people talk of attitude,Ive often wondered what they meant until I found it myself.Everything finally is about attitude.It dictates ones life,the course of ones thoughts and the well being of ones mind.Its such a dangerous weapon that it can destroy as it can heal.Double edged sword if any.
Today as in the many years of my life I have been battling a negative attitude.I can see it destroying a person I love and I am helpless because like I ve discovered the path of ones life is in ones own mind.
Trying to see the good things in life is not easy but believing that everyone else has it good and its only me with a sad life is looking at life in a jaded form.Doesn't it occur to people that human beings are individuals and have to exercise that right.When you fail to count blessing and can only look at the so called bad things,when you refuse to believe that you can change the course of your life in however small a measure,then that attitude can slowly destroy ones core and no one,simply no one can help with that.I realised that trying to break down this wall of negativity was pointless at this point.Either I don't know how to deal with it or I don't think its important anymore.Perhaps its true that a leopard cant change its spots but negativity can spread,its infectious and I have every reason to keep my distance from it.

Our neighbour-our focal point

Morning activity starts around five in the morning,the place is swept and washed and breakfast is on the fire ready for the old lady to get out of bed.At round seven thirty she is out sitting in her favourite chair watching the world go by.One might wonder whats so unusual about all this.The point is that she is our neighbour and our lives are inexplicably linked to hers.No conversations pass between us,no talk at all but we have a direct view of her home and all her activities.

I can remember her from her pattu saree days.She was the most dreaded figure on the street,from vegetable man to street dog no one messed with her.Over the years with ill health and years passing by the pattu saree has given way to a night dress.On occasions when she goes out a dupatta goes on.On the rare occasion that a wedding has to be attended the pattu saree comes out.

Our day begins with watching her,its habit to see her sitting there and doing her thing.To all our guests she is a focal point.Everyone who has at some point stayed with us will enquire about her if she is missing from her post.Two days ago we didn't see her,the house was locked and there was no sign of activity.The next day she was missing again.A pall of gloom descended over our household.Somehow the thought of not seeing her was like a vacuum.Considering we have known her for over thirty odd years(having lived on the same street) but have never bothered to so much as say hello,I find it rather strange.The anxiety was heightened by the fact that too many of her children were around and everyone had grave faces.

Finally I cornered the daughter in law and found out that she was in hospital .My concern was quickly brushed aside by the daughter in law who claimed that the hospital would be more than glad to send her home(she had been yelling at all the staff and generally throwing her weight around)and that she was certain that the old lady would be home before we knew it.She added that she was a witch so there was no need for me to loose sleep over her.Well she ought to know considering she lives with her.

This morning right as rain,she was up and about,yelling at her son to fetch and carry for her like nothing had changed.She is 90 years old and I hope she lives to be a hundred,because in her I see my own mortality(her eldest son continues to fetch and carry and put up with here constant yelling and I doubt if he will thank me for this post).

Small gods and temples

It started like most of them do as a small idol of a Hindu god.One can find them on most street corners in the city.It remained so for many years with the few people of that area coming stopping by to offer a few flowers and once in a while a chat with an otherwise bored priest.
It is the story of our temples that their beginnings are small but over a period of time the religious sentiments of the local people get the better of them and the contributions increase.With that comes the need for a bigger temple,so an altar gets built which is followed by one more idol and before one is aware a big temple has come up.
This morning I realised that the god that sat at the corner near the electricity building had evolved into a large temple and had occupied the road corner with no thought of how they were obstructing traffic or if the temple had encroached on the road.I wonder if the Chennai corporation gave permission for the additional structures.I believe the money came from the people who patronise this new temple but could a church or a mosque have gotten away with it?.Wouldn't the politicians go up in arms of how we were converting the locals into our religion(never mind that adults cant be forced into anything).Its unfair and unethical to have constructions (temple or no temple) go up in places without any planning.The irony of it is that all the revenue is tax free,and god forbid anyone raised an objection.There would be hell to pay and the majority religion would be supported by the local fanatics to make a fuss until it became a national agenda.I wondered if the gods were laughing at our foolishness.After all do Gods need a home built by us mortals?.

Random thoughts and bla bla bla

Today I was treated to a splurge in the bookstore,greed gets the better of me when i see books so i search,read,check price and generally loose myself in them.The trip to the bookstore was a reminder of how fragile life is.Last month on this day I was in a different and difficult world.This month a lot of healing has taken place thanks to books.They are my escape route to a world of shared experiences across oceans,cultures and ages.So I came back with a bag load of books to escape into.
On the way,we stop at a place to pick up dvds.The husband is an avid movie buff and the mother a tv serial junkie,me I am a book worm so we are all in our own worlds.However this blog is not about us,its about my little sojourn into the world of other people.While waiting for the husband to choose his movies,I sat in the car to watch the world go by.Five people caught my attention.They were friends for sure,two girls(looked like they were in college but then again they may have been young working women,nowadays the lines are so blurred one is no longer able to slot people)and three men(young and for me that means in the late twenties or early thirties).They were all next to a mid size car(which translates into...."they have the money and earning power").It was pretty obvious that one of them was a couple(the personal space between them was too little and much backslapping and hugging going on)the other two were on the way to becoming one and the third was a real bored our of his skull chap who for some reason had to put up with all this.What was real interesting was that the girl who was part of confirmed couple,was the most relaxed.She was the centre of all the fun.It looked like all of them were there for her.The other interesting observation was that despite having a lot of common interest and constant talking,what really was holding them together was the sms messages and their mobile phones.The mobile phone was being passed around amidst much mirth,the sms messages were enjoyed and all the evening was revolving around the phone.,I wondered if they were sending messages to each other or what.Think back to my own world those many years ago(this group reminder me so much of our gang when we were all finding our own equations).We hung around at the sterling club,watching others play tennis or swim while having great conversations.We had our own bikes and couldn't dream of cars but in the end it all boiled down to physical and mental vibes and never mind the technology or so I believe.Well the husband was back and there ended my observation if human behaviour.All too soon we are back home and like Goldilocks we are in our respective beds one watching a movie laughing his head off,one immersed in a soap opera that's guaranteed to take her blood pressure up and me dying for a cup of tea and a good read so have to end all this bla bla now.

Pen vs gabbing

Finally Ive hit a century,no I haven't joined the Indian cricket team nor has anyone been kind enough to bid for me...alas...the point is that this is my 100th post so I ought to feel rather proud of myself.Blogging took a back seat this week.Working from home means discipline and considering I don't have any,I jump from one task to the other getting somethings done.Some order in chaos.
Today I made a discovery,actually I confirmed a truth.In my long years of slogging in a sales job,chances were that a lot of people didn't want to see me because it invariably meant that I made them spend money,but my journalist friends were treated very differently.People courted them,returned calls(in my case the phones would be switched off but we learn to get them)and actually were nice and talkative with them.Wondered how it would feel to be on the other side.So I reinvented myself as a rookie writer(note I don't call myself a journalist).In the short time that I have dealt with real people(as opposed to stories from my head) I have had them call me back,tell me how nice it was talking to me and the whole nine yards.Talk of publicity and everyone is a sucker for it.Its interesting and fun for the moment but contrary to popular belief it does involve a lot of work,it needs careful handling of quotes and such like,oh well guess it all boils down to trial and error but its fun and interesting.

Man is smart,woman smarter

For the last few weeks there has been a constant refrain among a lot of relatives and friends of what a great daughter I am,except that it doesn't end there(i would have considered this a compliment and been happy)its more often than not followed by"you are like a son they never had" or "youre the man of the house" and so on.The references to being like a man or a son gets on my nerves,as it implies that a daughter however much she does is just not good enough.I gave a lot of thought to why people say this.Is it an overriding belief that boys or rather sons are an asset and the ones who are expected to look after parents in old age,does it stem from the fact that only men are allowed to light the funeral pyre.Whatever may be the reason its so deep rooted that no one considers it offensive to tell a woman how much of a man she is.
I decided then to do some checking.Do sons really look after their parents,do the make the sacrifices that daughters make(without grumbling or going on about it),maybe after all there is some truth behind this blind faith.
A cross section of women with brothers was asked who looks after their parents.In addition I have been studying the behaviour patterns of patients in hospitals Take a look at most of the old people who come on doctors visits and one is sure to find that 90% of them are accompanied by daughters and not sons.Most of my immediate circle of friends look after one or more of their parents and not because they don't have brothers.The boys assume that their careers are more important,their wives and children more important and so the story goes.Do they contribute to the financial security of the parents,well in some cases yes(the easiest thing to do is to write a cheque)and in most cases no.Why then this blind faith and constant reference to the boys.My mother is no exception.Despite everything that we daughters do,she will always believe that she lost out by not having a son.
I believe we as society are to blame for all of this,we treat our boys differently and despite all our education and exposure we are fed on soap operas which show women as the meek and mild ones,constantly being beaten up by husbands or being a burden on families because they cant be married off.Utter load of rubbish that rakes in wild trps and profits for television companies and in the process undermining everything that we women have worked so hard to achieve.The irony is that most of these serials are made by highly successful women.That's the irony of our day and age and I wonder if the next generation will be the same way.....I am still wondering and to those who think that I am as good as a son let me assure that I consider that insulting.I am a good daughter and a damn good woman and if anyone needs to be compared let it be a man for once.

Trading places

A lot of my friends talk of giving up jobs and being at home.I believe we all think that sitting at home would mean that we can eat sleep,read our favourite books,spend time with friends and generally do the things that we dont get to do thanks to a full time job.Somewhere in the back of our hearts we also turned up our noses at the housewife as someone who leads a lazy life living off the fat of the land with the husband bringing home the bacon.What really is the truth?
Its been two weeks since I traded in my corporate life to become part of the huge population of homemakers,housewife etc whatever we may choose to call them.In these two weeks,I have not had time to blog(I blogged almost everyday when I was working fulltime),read a book(I read a book every night while holding a full time job)watch a favourite tv programme(what tv?)or catch up with friends.So what keeps me busy you ask.I ask myself the same question and the answer is ....a lot of things.
lets start at the beginning.It starts with the early morning bell,the car wash boy needs cleaning cloth to clean the car,so I scramble out of bed half asleep and hand it over to him,go back to bed to get some shuteye and the bell goes again....cook has arrived,menu to be planned,kitchen stock taking to be done,shopping list for the day to be made.Time for a quick tea(brushing teeth and washing face all done by now)scan the newspaper(by which time cook is grumbling that there is not enough ginger or coconut or whatever else it is that he needs)and get the mothers breakfast organised.8.30 am already and time for insulin injection and breakfast in half hour(deadline very important if you want to avert big crisis).House maid has arrived and all dishes are being washed.Time to run washing machine so pick out clothes of the same colour(husband like father is a stickler for doing things right and going as per instruction book)Staying at home has one big advantage,not too many clothes to wash of the same colour(dress code is always shorts and t shirt in black or white or grey,no stress there).Have breakfast,ensure the mother takes all medication with out a miss(she leaves them on the bed and thinks shes had them,talk of many a slip between the cup and the lip,this is a live demo).10 am by now and everyone has left for the day.Start putting things back in the right place,then the table doesnt look clean enough so start cleaning,oops the plants need watering,run to terrace to water more plants.Huff puff and come back in time for tea.Start the tea,drink and clear up again.Time to check email(ah atlast something from my last birth as corporate person).Read mail,reply,brouse(addicitve,end up checking all kinds of things and forgetting where I started),check bank account(nothing comes in anymore but habits die hard,maybe for my own well being ,the husband should be encouraged to deposite some cash into the account,isnt that how a housewife runs a house...got to get that research done).Close computer and its already 12 oclock.Remember that bills have to be paid,cheques to be deposited,shopping to catch up on and petrol to be filled.By now its time for lunch and mother and daughter have a quick meal,supervise medication agin,clear up again and think that its time for some much needed R and R.Just as my eyes shut in sleep,the bell goes again.Remember the clothese given for ironing,well they are back,so pay for it and go back to get some 40 winks,bell goes again....courier boy with cover for husband...sign for it and he looks suspiciously and asks for my relationship with the person whose name is on the cover....housemaid I say....get dirty looks from boy who thinks I am up to no good but who cares.Oh well its already time for afternoon tea,and I still havent had a bath,the house looks like it could do with a lot more cleaning,the tea cups have to be washed(visitors come when they know you are at home and that means endless cups of tea)and the day is almost done.
When one is full time corporate breadwinner,things are so different....get up at 7.30,have tea,bath,breakfast,pick up car keys and head for work.Curse traffic and stupid men( who overtake because your a woman)arrive at work,check mail,call for meeting,throw weight around,order tea,send out proposal,meet a few people,do business lunch,rush to beauty parlour(need to be presentable....in home situation,no parlour,grey hair,busy eyebrows are all acceptable)yell at a few people,think smart,impress the boss and drive back home,settle with a nice drink,discuss office politics and go to sleep......oh well the debate is endless but one thing is for sure,there is no rest for the wicked,housewife,corporate executive or otherwise

Spell,count or prepare to die

Atleast three people called to tell me that I have got my spellings wrong in my posts.Well for starters thats because spellcheck doesnt work anymore on blogger and for people like me that was a lifesaver,but that brings me to the current post.It set me thinking about the two biggest hurdles in my life.I never learnt to spell right or to count right.The mind works overtime and my thoughts spill over in haste so if it were talking oneself out of a situation,I can do it under any circumstance but write it down and I am lost(though I still manage to communicate and thats what matters in the end).
So all this feedback set me thinking as to why spelling and counting or rather maths and written english elude me.It starts way back when I learnt to read and write.My father( always a stickler for getting everything right) would insisit that I read books on a daily basis.Somehow despite being terrified of him I muddled through it and managed to get it right so reading is something I enjoy.By the time I was in class three,both my sisters were to take me to school or supervise my homework.By this time the eldest was in college reading english lit and the second was finishing school.I remember (i think it was trainning for future professions,they went on to become teachers with loads of papers to correct) them getting hold of red ink pens and correcting everything that I wrote.Big red circles were made on homework sheets with such joy that in time to come I was to develope redophobia(thats fear of the colour red or in this case of the red ink).When I attempted to get on their right side with little notes,they would pounce on it with glee(you guessed right,too many spelling mistakes).Their glee at the red circles did nothing for my spelling skills(if anything it got worse).I was delighted when I discovered spell check.I said a prayer for the inventor (to me saviour of the downtrodden bad speller)and started to enjoy the joys of writing,but alas all joy is shortlived and with blogger spellcheck not working,its back to red circles except that this time its not from the wicked elder sisters(I always identified with cinderella as a child)but from friends and extended family.
Maths...yet another one of my failures,this time the father inflicted huge psychological damage(its sound so much better to be melodramatic)by getting me to do mental arithmetic(calculating in the head without the aid of paper and pencil).For the life of me I cant count without my fingers(having just 10 of them is a handicap)but the sheer tension and anxiety of having to get the right answer is enough to scare any child.To this day I hate figures,statistics,maths....my mind will go blank,well it was misery till I discovered the calculator and life took on a new meaning.It got even better when I discovered the simple joys of an excel worksheet.But if my calculator packs up I am back to square one.
I have never got over my fear of spellings or maths and thinking back one is never sure how simple teaching methods can affect a person.Sometimes I think its looking at things in too simple a manner but the fact remains that I can trace both to childhood,so now that all my readers know my greatest fears and my biggest drawback,why dont you just read for the fun of it and not stress me out with spelling mistakes,thank you very much.

Signs and Ommens

I believe in signs and ommens but havent dared to admit it.Most people would dismiss signs as part of ones active imagination but the point is they exist like the sixth sense it just takes time to tune in.
I have had this very strong instict for from ever.I kind of always know when something is going to happen and how it will turn out.It was no surprise therfore that there were many signs and ommens that I tucked away in my head while admitting my dad to the hospital.It started with wanting to keep a day nurse because he needed care,so the lady who came along was highly recommended but on finding out why she had left the previous employer,it turns out that she died(the employer).I felt then that this was going to be a second innings but put it out of my head as a negative thought.Then when we addmitted him to the hospital,I had to fill a registration form.I have done this a million times in the past but for the first time I saw a column that said,date of admission followed by date of expiry.Another sign tucked away.A few days later leaving the hospital a herse turned up,once again a thought triggered in my head.It can be unnerving knowing that one is beign prepared for the worst,but its not something one can talk about because its parapsychology.
We made my sister cancell her trip and a little voice told me that it will all be over before she leaves.It happened just that way.The day he died,I who has been uncertain of quitting my job suddenly,decided to take the plunge.Cant describe it but it was the right moment to do it and it was done.I was closing one chapter in my life.An hour later my dad died and I closed yet another chapter in my life.In one day two big events took place.
In the past ten years,I have been drawn to my parents home on many occassions for no reason at all,but only becasuse a voice in me tells me to go.At every point it has been a crisis and my parents wonder how I always arrive without even being called.
The day he died,I had no reason to be there.Nurses were in place,my sister was in charge and my mom was at home but again the voice told me to go and I went.I was ther when it all happened,holding his hand when I may just have been having tea at my home.
This is only one incident.In the past I have taken decisions of changing jobs because one day something snaps in my head.Most of my decisions have been based on the many messaged that bombard my spirit on a daily basis and to the rational mind this is a crazy way to take decisions but to this day I have had not taken a single decison that I have lived to regret and to me my instincts far outway the pros and cons of a rational mind.Its never let me down and at work we called it my stomach talking.My team was always surprised because I would tell them that something would happen and tell them how exactly and they and I were always surprised so my stomach talking was a great source of inspiration for everyone.
Stomach or mind,I know that signs and ommens are all around us,we need to tune in and that comes either from instinct or practice.

The trump card

For many years I took it upon myself to carry the responsibility of the parents on my head.My sisters had either got married or were living abroad so it never occured to me that I should ask them.It was just taken for granted that I would do the honours.
During the course of many years I asked my sisters for help at regular intervals.The second one always turned up to help ,the eldest was always too busy and we stoped asking after a while.
There are many times when I resented what I thought was complete disregard on her part,and irresponsibility as I saw it but like they say there is a time and place for everything.
The last one month has been the worst crisis of our lives.With the father in hospital and a mother (not in the best of health) at home my elder sister arrived and rose to the occassion.I am writing this four days after my father passed away when grief is still a very real emotion but it would have been impossible for me to deal with it if it hadnt been for her.She turned out to be the trump card.It was almost like saving the best for the last.
I look at her and wonder what it is that makes her the pillar of strength and then I discover that its her practical side,her understanding of my parents in ways that only an eldest daughter can understand.Her way of dealing with my mother,be it breaking bad news or ensuring that she eats on time despite everything else...only she could have done it.
Nothing hassels her,she can sing through most things,read her bible,give out practical advice and make endless cups of tea(she is a tea addict but will not accept it)she would always know what to do.When my husband insisted that she stay to hold my hand and my mothers we didnt have any great expectations but she managed to help us handle death,sorrow and grief all the time being the sane one,the person who got things done,the person who spoke to everyone with out breaking down.Her mantra in life is to leave things to god and today I understand why it makes so much sense.
The one month that she stayed gives takes me back to a time when she was my representative in the family.Being the youngest,I hung on to her skirts all the time.if I was hungry I told her,all requests were processed through her.I never went to my parents directly.When she got married I was heartbroken.I had to deal with my mother and father directly(wasnt easy).Then for years I didnt have much to do with her children(I always felt that they had taken away all the attention form me and it wasnt something I was going to forgive so easily).Today when she left to go back home with a promise to come back I realised why she wasnt there for us all those many years.,I think God was saving her up for the worst time in our lives.She is his trumpcard.

My little hub of activity

When I chose to move to a part of the city where I had spent the better part of my childhood,it was just a whim.It also is a nice place with parks and narrow roads and where a lot of people know me.Today I realised why this move is so significant.
The place is no fancy address but the kind of facilities that exist are far better than anyplace else and I for one wouldnt trade it for anything else.
Looking for nursing service and I find that there is a nurse close to where I live,willing to provide nursing care and make regular house visits herself.Ask her why and how she got into the business and she tell me of personal tragedy that made her take it up.For 13 years she has been a nurse,triggered by the fact that her son is mentally unstable thanks to a hospital giving him the wrong drug.I admire her spirit.Where one would normally feel sorry for oneself and despair she took the opportunity to take a course in nursing to provide care for the child.Then she realised that there were many people who needed care and it became her bread and butter.Today she has nurses for home care in and around where I live.
Ambulance service...just 100 yards from where I live there is something called a flyinng squard(my sister finds the spelling error,she being an English teacher,but I suspect that the error is intended)We meet the chap who runs it and realise that his dad was a taxi driver who transported the sick and dying in his taxi.The son while helping his dad,took the business to the next level,he invested in ambulance vans,medical equippment and now has a twenty four hour service of emergency care.He plans to upgrade the business to include funeral service and home care.
We needed a hospital cot and not knowing how much it cost or where to get it,we called a service....you guessed right,right there a few streets from where I live.Within a couple of hours he had delivered all that we needed and we had found one more link in the chain.
Having done all that I needed transport to take some old furniture to my place from my moms place and where do I find the service.Yes once again it was a few streets away in one large slum near my house.The slum provides most of us with housemaids and cooks and by the looks of it(especially if the person is from Bombay)the slum is pretty affluent.One call to an otherwise useless husband of my maid and he arrives with an entourage of his friends and my work is done.
I never for once thought that the place I live in had so much to offer.Its a hub of activity of all kinds and if it started as a whim,its most certainly turned out to be a great investment in more ways than one.

networks

At 9.30 pm I am exhausted and feel like I have run a thousand miles.Not surprising considering even I didnt expect to accomplish all that I finally did.
Circumstances have been such that I have learnt to live one day at a time and not think or plan for tomorrow.Yesterday the doctors threw up their hands and told me that I would have to take my father home,except that it came with conditions.full time nurse,attendent day and night,feeds through the tube and completely bed ridden.Our home is on the first floor and there is no life,my mom is hardly in a state to handle such pressure.Pushed against a wall I had no choice but to swing into action.
On sunday I was a hysterical mess,not sure if I could handle all this,completely broken,but yesterday I put it all behind me.Told myself that there were people in worse situations and that I had to get on with it.So the leader in me got into the act.The elder sis was deputed to hospital duty and prayer(this she did on her own and it worked wonders).
I first found a nursing service,then a supplier of hospital cots(he never understood why I called it a bed and I was in no mood to argue),then a cleaner(who didnt turn up so we ended up doing it ourselves)Finally a 24 hour ambulance service.
I am not sure how I kept my cool but I did and right now I am feeling rather proud of my self

The Ghost Knife

A few days ago while visiting my mother I noticed that there was a thin,sharp knife (almost a stilleto)on the bed next to her.She is in the habit of eating fruit while watching TV so I didnt give it much thought untill a few minutes later I realaised that there was no fruit and the knife didnt serve any purpose.
I wondered if she was scared of being alone at home(dads in hospital) but what could a knife like that do.It was too slender and in my opinion far to blunt to inflict any damage.Also even under severe circumstances (assuming my mother uses all her energy) that knife would be quiet useless if the house were to be burgled or if intruders tried to attack.All this ran through my mind and after having eliminated all possibilities,I ventured to ask her the reason for the knives presence.
Its important to understand that my mother spent her childhood in unspoilt pristine kerala with forests as playgrounds and ghost stories as bed time stories.Those were the days of oil lamps and rampant witchcraft(practised in Kerala with great ease).My mother was brought up to believe in spirits and ghosts(probably the parents way of keeping large families under control).My mother thereofre has a healthy respect for the spirit world and has been taught that the best weapon against a bad spirit is a metal knife,a cross and some garlic.My mother chose the knife.Perhaps her long association with city living has taught her that the knife might serve two purposes,the flesh and the spirit.
She keeps it with her while she is alone and when questioned,she explained that the fear of man was not in her psyche but the spirits she is terrified of.So the normally frugal mother will ensure that all lights are on(even the ones not required.....the spirits are know to love darkness)knife is close at hand and the Tv is one at high volume(its usually a soppy malayalam story where the daughter in law is subjected the some morbid form of witchcraft,or a true blue kerala style ghost story)and my mother feels secure.
The knife comes back to the dining table when all of us are back at the house,so we now have a ghose knife at home and I dread to think of what will happen to the fruit when we use the ghost knife.....it may turn into a fruity spirit I guess but my mother would be very offended if we didnt take her seriously so we rest our case.

Love and Hate

Human psychology is an interesting subject.Watching people is an education in itself.Love and hate,two very powerful emotions but not very different in themselves.To hate with intensity and to love to distraction are essentially the same things.I have watched a very interesting pattern of behaviour and have come to the conclusion that its better to be hated than to be loved to distraction.

Take a look at some typical situations.All relationships we say are about give and take,it needs working on and all that.Put two people together and see the differences.In many cases of hate the resultant behaviour is aimed at hurting one person.The person in charge of hate will do everything to make the others life hell.It can move to controlling behaviour,suspicion,possessiveness and verbal abuse as also physical abuse.In such situations the hurt party will choose to walk out of the relationship at some point or suffer in silence,depending on the personality type.It is easier to leave an abusive relationship when hate is the propelling emotion.

Look at being loved to distraction(nothing positive about it).To be loved is a fine emotion but to be loved to distraction is very akin to hate.Sometimes (i have seen this is many relationships) love begets possessiveness,suspicion and control.Its because one loves someone so much and is afraid of loosing that person that the resultant behaviours surface.The pattern is the same.Except that in a relationship where love is the overriding emotion,the affected person finds it more difficult to leave.It is far more dangerous to someones well being but the behaviours that defines both is the same.

I don't believe we can call hate or love as positive or negative emotions(in psychology they are defined that way).Like all things in life,emotions also need balance.Extremism in any form destroys the social fabric of a person,a society and eventually the world.I have seen these emotions at close range and at the risk of being termed apathetic,I believe it better to err on the side of caution that to let ones emotions run riot.It the tipping point of dangerous behaviour.

Lingering

The word linger has been playing on my mind so checked out the meaning.Very appropriate for the current situation"to be alive while still dying""existence while loosing strength"...some of the usages.We talk of lingering perfume,in a very positive way,we see fans linger outside a concert and the stars are happy.But to see someone lingering and in pain knowing that the end is near but not in our hands....that is tragic.
Birth and death are two powerful activities in life over which we have no control.Some might argue that we have a better say in birth.But think about it,do we really.Can we predict when someone is being born or that someone will be born earlier than expected?.To some extent yes but not entirely.Death is even more difficult.We all know that life has to end.For some earlier than expected,to some suddenly but to some its a lingering fact.
Today sitting in hospital,watching my father struggle to breath or even to be able to watch the world go by,I wondered if it was all worth it.What is the point of lingering.Yet knowing him he is probably fed up of being ill,it probably plays on his mind that he is nearing then end and what does that do to a person.Its like being on death row.What does one do to escape,what does one know of life after death.Is is scary to leave it all and go alone?.
I pray that he is released from his suffering but then again who am I to decide.Do I know best or is it propelled by a selfish need for closure?.Can anyone be truly rational in such situations.
Sometimes I wish I was a made in Japan robot.I would have my feeling controlled by remote,everything would be programmed and I would have to go as per cue.But then again is that life.Maybe that poor robot thinks my life is far more interesting,its probably waiting to be like me,or at least something of a human and so its back to full circle.Humility is understand that we don't have too much control and what we perceive as control is actually an illusion.

Whats love got to do with it

Ours is the stuff that Hindi movies are made on.A freak road accident saw me lying on one of the city roads with head injuries(thanks to not wearing a helmet).The chap who picked me up(he recognised me as a friend) took me to a hospital close by,called all the other friends and was there when I came out of my semi coma and asked who I was and where I was.That was the beginning.I am grateful that he stoped when he did and took me to a decent hospital even though I looked like death.
The next month or so while I walked around on crutches,he was there every evening,talking to me giving me the latest on office gossip and the like.For me it was something to do and someone to talk to.At no point them did I imagine that I would write about this person one day because he has come to mean so much to me.
His persistence pays off.I had all my defences up when he came into my life.We are both very independent people with strong opinions and I for one was always in control.No relationship is allowed to wander from my terms so it was interesting that despite every resistance I put up he doubled his efforts to break it down.For six years he worked on it till I finally gave in.He has become too much a part of my life,I couldn't imagine not having him around so we did what most people do,we got married.
Amidst opposition and all odds we got married and escaped the same day so as not to face the music.Our friends despite having stood by us,gave the marriage a few years max.We were too headstrong to make it work or so we all imagined.
I think ten years of marriage is a good time to look back and wonder why it all worked out for us.For starters the credit goes to him.I am difficult at the best of times.Opinionated and not very open to change,I was always ready to have my own way.He on the other hand managed to get his own way while all the time making me believe that it was what I wanted.We had our fights,our tantrums and our differences,but mutual respect and a great deal of love is what comes through in the end.
He has stood by me through think and thin and looking back at the many personal problems that we have faced together,I attribute my sanity to a man who over the years has not only showered me with unconditional love but has taught me that family matters,that friends matter.His generosity and good sense has given us a close circle of friends(most of them are my friends who have become our friends) who will always be there when we need them.
Yesterday in one of our most difficult times,he steped in and while I was reduced to a hysterical wreck,he smiled and sorted out the issue with a firm but gentle hand.
I don't believe in mush and have scant regard for the typical Hollywood or even bollywood love stories which go on an on about love when they mean nothing.Its natural then that I debated on writing this blog,but like a friend of mine always says,one must acknowledge love at all times at all places and I am truly blessed to have found someone who can make such a difference to my life and to the life of my family.I started out calling him mister intensity because he saw everything in black and white and I always saw shades of grey but over then years we have enriched each others life and have achieved harmony and balance which I hope will only get better in the next decade or till death do us part.

My parents friends

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The sixth sense

Visiting people is not something I do very often,keeping in touch even less,but for some reason when I am faced with a family crisis I call people,visit people and find great relief in this activity.I also find that unconsciously I have over the years developed a great faith in this one activity.I find that if I talk about a particular activity or a crisis or even something as mundane as planning a holiday,then the said situation will never happen.Which is why I refuse to plan.Everything till date has been a spur of the moment decision.Ive noticed this happening so often that when I don't want something to happen,I talk about it to the whole world and his uncle.
Its funny that the brain....mind...whatever....works this way.On the one hand rational self tell me this is just a load of rubbish,but the emotive mind says this is true.
The recent crisis with my father had made me turn to my emotive mind.I have been calling up cousins that I talk to once in two years or less,I have been emailing friends and visiting people,all the time talking of my crisis,hoping that it will go away.This feeling is so strong that when i was planning to get married,I didn't even talk to my closest friends about it.When I went around with the husband(then boyfriend) for six years before we got married,no one was the wiser.So worried was I that if I let anyone know then it would all be off.I am convinced that there is a sixth sense,for instance I know who is on the phone as it rings(90% of the time).Like birds I know when disaster will strike but over the years I have shut out my sixth sense.(some parts of it)Its too scary to deal with,it can drive one crazy.
So the mind plays at different levels.Its a choice to shut it out.It can be controlled but if even a little window is opened that free flowing thoughts and experiences can enter.The sixth sense (sometimes we call it superstition) works at a higher level and if we open our minds we all have it in us.The question is ....do we want to know.

Brahmin girls and life

Today I told myself that the focus would turn from sadness and illness and talk instead of a community that has influenced my life greatly.I hit upon the idea when going through my address and friends list
At school all my friends were Anglo Indians,so we talked of dancing,music,food and parties besides reading.One I left the security of the Anglo Indian school,it was right into a christian college (for long the abode of the Syrian christian mallu girls.)Our class was almost full of them but we managed not to become clannish and my circle of friends had one christian and all the rest were Hindus.The interesting part was that among the Hindus,the girls who formed long relationships with me were the brahmin lot.The trend continued into university and well into work.
There are many jokes about this community.For one they are known to suffer from a superiority complex,for another,they are very tightfisted in money matters.They would carry conservatism to the extreme of not allowing non vegetarian food into their homes,not using vessels that lesser mortals like us(the hard core carnivore) use etc.
For some strange reason I was drawn to them(not by design).I didn't see their community,only the nice girls that they were,but in many subtle ways they influenced my life.
Hanging around with these girls meant that there was no extravagant spending,we spent on books,an occasional movie and the like.Since most of them are dead serious about studies,it forced me to dig into my books.The right marks were very important.The biggest asset was that my terrible command over the Tamil language became much better and by the time I was in the work force,my Tamil could put any self respecting brahmin to shame.
At the workplace I was soon to meet three very significant brahmin girls.They were like chalk to cheese.One was a well dressed,well travelled and a very confident woman who sometimes got on our nerves for her strict rules and her attitude to life.She could make you feel like a worm very often because her choice of words and lifestyle was nowhere near ours,but we learnt from her to project a particular image,she taught us how to conduct ourselves at the work place.As a senior woman(very few in those days) in the corporate world we copied her haughtiness and carriage.She remains the same but over the years we also discovered the real person under the persona.
The other girl was more the party kind,she was determined to live life to the hilt while at the same time investing well and always conscious of the rainy day.We learnt to relax with her,interact with men on an easier level and we had great times dancing the night away on many occasions.We were always the first on the dance floor and the last to get off.She introduced us to fun,life at its best in gay abandon.
The third person was a lot more restrained,her head for research and business was no match for us.She would study and research the most mundane things.From buying a washing machine to planning a holiday,she collected a lot of date.Everything was an informed choice,nothing was left to chance.She influenced me so much that my first investment was a flat(she located it for me,I had to just pay up).She went on to influence the purchase of my first car.She gave me a life home in her car everyday and told me of all the good points,the sense in having ones own transport etc.She made so much sense,then she went on to give me ideas on loans,how did one get the best deal etc.Her home was the venue for our wedding planning.With her around along with the other two,everyone else found that duties were assigned and we (husband and I) had only to arrive at designated time at the place.
Today some twenty years later we don't meet so often but these girls have made me what I am,they have influence me in my financial planning,in my choice of jobs and maybe,just maybe in my choice of husbands.Here I am married to a nice brahmin boy with all the traits mentioned in the beginning of the article and thanks to these girls I know how to deal with his family.If there is a function in the husbands family,the girls will know exactly what gift will work,what dress code will be a hit and what to say when.
Today I pay tribute to a community (I think of it that way as most of my friends belonged to this community)which has greatly influenced my life and I hope I have done that to them too.

Ignorance and Sports

Reading the newspaper every morning was one thing that a lot of our generation was made to do.I believe its because that was our source of general knowledge(big deal when we were kids)I willed myself to reading it but over the years managed to keep abreast of things mostly political.
One section of the paper I was happy to do without was the sports pages.Today I know that sports pages of newspapers are a big deal and people can watch any amount of TV but will continue to read all of it over again in the newspaper.Not me(I am sure there are lots of people like me)I even skip the pages which have great pictures.Not being a great fan of any sport I cant see the need to do so.
In a country that is obsessed with cricket,this (not reading the cricket news or watching TV)can be a big issue.Today I realised how difficult it is to relate to someone who loves sports.My dad who is in hospital is simply dying to know the news so in all goodness I took the paper along all ready to read aloud to him.The news was so dull I wondered what would interest him so we turned to the business page.He needed to know the latest in the business space so the fact that the sensex had droped 600 odd points was news to him,then he wanted to know what happened to Justine Henin at the Australian open.Ignorant me didn't even know that the Australian open was on so I scrambled through the news to find nothing on the woman.Next he asked about the cricket match between India and Australia and again I was blank.Oh dear, there I was with a headline that said something about V'VS Lakshman having pulled off a great deal but what was it.Read the whole story but couldn't find a single simple sentence that said what I wanted to know.It was a huge flop show.My dad politely told me that that was enough news for the day.I didn't read to him about Bobby Fisher dying as I censor all deaths to him.(no point in getting a man at his age depressed).
I packed up the paper but am still convinced that the sports pages are written badly,why don't they just tell us simple facts and then go on to the analysis.Why do the sports writers think that everyone has already watched it all on TV.Some of us old fashioned types do still read the paper you know.Well for one I haven't been converted to a sports page fan and have no intention of becoming one either,and as for the news,it shall be delegated to the husband who can spend hours on sports channels and read all the news on sports and store it away in his long term memory till kingdom come.So in the interests of looking at solutions,he shall be sent to break the news on India's performance against the Australians and going by the whoops and yells emanating form our TV room it ought to be good news.(that reads as India won the match)

mail vans and ravens

Looking around I find that the red mail van is missing from roads today.I think there are fewer mail vans now.For years we held on to some of our superstitions.I am not superstitious by any stretch of imaginations but somethings are so much a part of our social and psychological fabric that we can never get away from them.Passing by the post office today brought it all back.
At school we believed that if we saw a red mail van(colour very important even though there is only one colour)we had to cross our fingers and could uncross them only when we came upon the next red van.To do so before that brought bad luck.Today with the advent of the email the mail van has disappeared and so has our superstition.
One of the great superstitions that remain to this day is the one on ravens.It goes like this,one for sorrow,two for joy,three for letter,four for boy,five for silver,six for gold and seven for secrets that will never be told.Of course the raven is not so common so its unlikely that we would find either the boy or the silver or gold but the sorrow and joy was very likely.We all went into a tizzy if we saw one raven,the quickest way to pass off the bad luck was to point the bird to another friend.If we saw one in the morning the whole day would be ruined,if we saw one before the test then we were convinced that it would be a failure.It was so ingrained in our psyche that even when something did happen(not related to the bird) we attributed it to the bird in question.Two of them always brought a smile to our faces.
The other superstition(I think this has its origins in Kerala or in some part of India) was that one should never set out as a threesome to any important discussion....it was bound to flop,so if the parents were off to see a girl or boy(as in arranging a marriage) they would go as two or four and never three.If we left the house on some important mission and had to come back as soon as we step out the door(for having forgotten something)we would have to sit down and drink a glass of water to get the bad luck out.
Touching wood is another superstition that has been around for ages.Its so much a part of our lives that we always touch wood without thinking about it.
Horseshoes are another big deal.One is never sure if it has to be hung upwards or downwards but one thing is for sure.The shoe has to have fallen off the horses foot naturally to be of any luck.
Wearing new clothes inside out was a sure sign of getting a new set(I always did this on purpose hoping my mom would get me another set,unfortunately she claimed not to have heard of this little bit of superstition).
Eating the last bit of food on a plate made you a spinster for life so we were all careful not to do so(there was a time when we thought spinsterhood was a bad thing till we knew better).
One very strange one was that a bumper harvest always signaled death in the family.It translated into smaller versions that included plants in the garden or balcony.So if your plants are looking unusually healthy be warned.
On mondy Thursday,most mallu Syrian christian homes baked a rice pudding.It was made with rice flour,yeast and toddy(vattaiappam).If it came out perfect all was well but God forbid it cracked in the middle,it was a sure sign of death in the family.My mother was so terrified of this superstition that we stoped making this appam in our house on mondy thursday.It was ok to make it on other days.
I am trying to research the beginnings of all these superstitions,myths and legends but its amazing how when we buy into something with no logical explanation,it can still rule our minds despite our rational minds telling us that its all a load of rubbish.

Ties that bind

It takes a crisis to bring people closer together,to find out more about each other,to discover our strengths and weaknesses.It strengthens bonds which we take for granted .
The last few days have been the only time in a long while when all my sisters and our families have been under one roof and in shared circumstances.It has been a time of learning and I have found that taking all the decisions for so many years has been hard and that two or three heads are better than one.
Its also been a time when we have looked at solutions instead of focusing on problems.We have renewed our ties with close members of our family,cousins we have been out of touch with,aunts and uncles and friends we had forgotten.We have found that each member on this chain has something to contribute,from finding help to helping out with Church and religious affairs(we are not too clued in on our religious side).We have learnt to count our blessings.In a short span of time we have found house help(expensive but worth it).From having no one to having someone round the clock is a great leap in time.We have discovered that some of the things we did in the past is now coming in handy.We have learnt to communicate better with each other and to lean on each other more.We are not out of the woods as yet and there is a long way to go but besides bringing our own family closer we have also discovered the kindness of strangers,we have had help from the most unexpected quarters and for this we are grateful.To us this is a sign that God is in his heaven and all is right in the world.

reverse generation gap

We all have different ways of dealing with stress,sorrow and other emotions.In our hour of crisis,my mother gets defensive and cold,one sister gets clinical while my elder sister and I write,she writes in long hand and I blog.
This afternoon we talked...my sister and I about forgiveness and sadness.We believe that as one grows old and frail,its time to focus on the good things in life,the happy memories,the things the other person did for us.We focused today on our father.
He at some level is an intelligent man,his knowledge gathered from books,newspapers,magazines movies and other ways.If the Internet was ready in his time he would have been a member of face book or orkut.
His choice music channel is VH1 or MTV.He is a great fan of shakira,the backstreet boys and some others I have no clue about.At 87 his choice of music is so strange we have a reverse generation gap.I discovered how out of date I was when I tried cheering him up by loaning him my Ipod.He then tells me my music is old fashioned.Didn't he remember that he introduced me to the listeners choice programme on radio,he made me listen to radio Ceylon and radio Australia.I am caught in time wrap while my father embraced youth.His active mind sought out the trendy and the modern.He found more in common with his 30 something grandson than with his 40 something daughter.
Today as I watch him fighting for life,I am sad and broken hearted for the active mind is housed in a body that is fast giving up and to see that happen is the worst thing in life.I hold his hand in the ICU and fight desperately to hold back tears.....i don't want him to see me cry but he is an intelligent man and knows that I am not telling him the whole truth.I walk away because I cant deal with it and my elder sister and I compare notes.We see things in similar ways and our sorrow is the other side of joy....complicated but that's life.

The ICU wait

I sit vigil outside the ICU while my father battles inside under an onslaught of tubes and machines.He fades in and out of consciousness and the doctors move in and around.It all started with him being unwell and then getting better and I was under the mistaken notion that he was on the way to recovery.However after putting people in place to help i got on with my life.
Long years of being with the parents has tuned my mind to a different wave length.I know when trouble brews.On Sunday I slept well but saw some strange dreams which woke me up with this disturbed feeling and It turns out my father needed to be taken to the hospital.
Forty five minutes for an ambulance,even more for medical attention and finally when the BP dropped and continued to drop they wheeled him into the ICU
My sister and I waited outside for an hour and the news wasn't good.They told us that this was the end and we needed to inform the rest of the family.I have never been more glad to have an elder sister around.While I dissolved into tears,she handled the phone calls and decided what to do while calming me down as well.My husband had been summoned and his instant reaction was that while there is life there is hope.
My delima is this,while I agree with him on that front,I cant bear to see my father suffer.My relationship with him hasn't been anything to write home about.There has been more drama and fights than happy memories but I can never forget that my father stood against the tide where education was concerned.He ensured that all the girls went to the best schools and colleges,he instilled in us a great curiosity to see beyond our books,so we listened to music watched the movies and read like there is no tomorrow.It was probably one of the smarted things he did for us.
He hasn't left us rich in the money sense but his investments helped me get my first flat.He is a strange man and over the years I have left behind the bad memories and learned to appreciate what he went through.
Today there are conflicting views on what we need to do.The doctors don't hold out much hope.Do we stop the medication and let him die or do we give him a chance to survive.Its a conflict and my heart breaks as I don't know.He continues to battle for his life against odds and I having done everything I can ,can only pray,pray hard that he doesn't suffer too much,pray hard that the good life he has had will end in peace and grace,but the agony of waiting is hard.Its probably harder for him knowing that this is probably the end.
I don't know how I will handle all this but right now the questions remain on life and its meaning and despite all my calm I worry,I don't want to face up to it,I don't want to deal with it but I have no choice.

My mad mad mind

Yesterday,I discovered what it felt like to be van Gog.I was steadily loosing my mind,and by the evening the deterioration was complete.I am not sure what brought it along.Probably an anxiety attack but the point is it was scary.I had lost control.Lets face it the stress has been building up for a while and when there is no one to talk to it all goes into ones system.Additionally I had to discharge a sick father from hospital.Just as that was done I had to rush to office to do interviews.May have been pleasant if I didn't have to meet the kind of people I do.They were the kind i would have nothing to do with.Add to that there was no time for lunch and before I knew it the chemicals in my brain had got the better of me.Slowly I was reduced to tears,if someone spoke to me I was hysterical,driving in that state is dangerous but I had not choice but to reach home and then it all come apart.At that point the wise thing would have been to take a sedative and go to sleep but I have this great fear of getting addicted so there it was,handling it all in a sane manner(if that is possible).By the time the husband arrived all hell had broken loose.He had called the mother(mine....bad decision) and the sisters called and I was a wreck.

I finally fell into a tired sleep.This morning I seem back to normal self.I am still trying to figure out what happened,I am trying to recreate the events that led to the breakdown.Its not a nice feeling and thank god I am not some creative genius because I may have cut off my ear at this rate.Oh to be normal again.

Discrimination right here

Everyone who goes abroad comes back with some story or the other about racial discrimination.I was warned about it in Spain,France and Germany but lucky me never had to face it.For now no one seems to be able to slot me into a nationality so that's a blessing,so many times I am mistaken for south American,Spanish etc.Suites me fine as otherwise I would draw unnecessary attention to myself.So for me racial discrimination exists somewhere.
Until today...right here in good old Chennai.Here is a so called lifestyle store called the Amethyst.Its usually full of the hip and happening and is a complete rip off.Not the kind of place I frequent but one is expected to sit there for hours sending mail or reading and generally meeting friends.Nice ambiance,old house et all but for the staff and the owner(i believe it all stems from the top).
Today i sat there reading my paper waiting to get...first of all a menu card.It took around 30 minutes for someone to condescend to give me one.Then no amount of attracting the attention of the waiter would help.The place you see was filled with white skins.Around 90% of the people there were not Indian.Were the waiters trained to attend only to the white skins.There they were at the beck and call of all them foreigners and not one of them bothered to come over to take the order.Am I surprised?....not really,on many occasions when I have been forced to meet someone at that place I have seen this happening.We talk of racial discrimination abroad but its alive and kicking right here in Madras and it makes me feel sick.If we cant appreciate what we have in our own country then we have no business complaining about being discriminated against.Places like these run by people who are still slaves to the white man will continue to treat the ones at home with scant respect.Unfortunately these places also hog the media limelight despite the rip off prices,the highly overrated ambiance and the slack service or just the lack of it.I believe its criminal on my part to even be seen there so the next time someone suggests the place guess I will have to decline.

My diary

Just realised that its over a year since I started this blog.Why did I?.Well at that point I was bored out of my skull and couldn't stick to anything for too long.This was yet another experiment but its become part of me.Its a great feeling to write,just about anything.It clears my mind and it brings back things long forgotten and a lot of my friends and family read but like me they are far too lazy to leave comments so I guess I should be happy just being me.
I started my first diary when I was six.My elder sister gave me a readers digest pocket diary(she thought a six year old wont have much to write home about)and I was so trilled that it went on till I was around twelve.I reread my six year old writing when I was around thirteen and was shocked at how my life revolved around the number of times I had had to go to the loo,or the number of times I ate with a faithful detail of the menu.Looks like I had this great weakness for Amul butter and hot rice.
My uncle in Kerala chanced on the diary once and was suitably impressed with my detailed account of my trips to the loo.You see a lot of it was written while on holiday in Kerala(my wise sister thought that was the best way to keep me out of her hair).The loo was always a good mile walk from the main house.It required climbing down many a mud step to reach the place which smelt of fresh earth,mulberries and centipedes.My sisters would have to fetch water from the well and bring it along.I wasn't allowed to draw water as the weight of the bucket and I were around the same and by some convoluted Kerala physics,that meant that there was every chance of my falling into the well so best avoided.Because the loo was so far away and I had this huge fear that I wouldn't be able to control myself,I would run very often(more than necessary)just to be safe.My biggest fears were the nights.My sisters refused to leave the house at night and poor me was forced to use the vegetable patch.That was traumatic as I was convinced that all the goblins were out to get me(my sister read tons of fairy tales to me everyday and it fuelled an already active imagination)Besides which there was a pig at home who for some strange reason has a fascination for a bare bottom(especially if it belonged to a child).I think I had plenty to write home about even if it was only about my loo trips.Till date most of what I remember of that house is its loo.

Chemistry and bike rides

Starting to write about old friends,set off a chain,old friends called recalling old memories so I decided that we were an interesting bunch and some more stories should follow.
Over the years we added on to our gang,but the core group remained the same.For around six years the old gang met almost every evening.Since the chemistry was being designed by Chubby and Intensity,there was a lot of plotting and planning going on which if one was not in the know,could slip past.
It happened pretty suddenly one evening.There I was walking to the bus stop(we didn't have our own transport then) and the two of them walk up to me casually and ask for some help in choosing clothes.The Raymond shop being close by didn't give me a clue so I graciously agreed to help.The general idea was to choose something for intensity as he couldn't make up his mind(i figured out later that he was very good and making up his mind and has no issues on clarity of thinking).I went through a lot of stuff and finally decided on something by which time it was well after eight in the night.Of course Chubby then decided that it was too late for nice girls to be going home alone so he casually mentioned that Intensity lived near my place and could he drop me home(chubby was my friend at that time and he was the common link so took it upon himself to be spokesperson)Intensity jumped at it but not before putting forth his own idea of a bite before we took off,so we landed up eating something at which point he tells"you have a lovely voice.(I nearly chocked on my milkshake,since when did I have a nice voice...and now he complains that its a squeak)Well after that there was no point in refusing though I had my doubts then if all was as innocent as I thought it was.I never realised until many years later that that was what hitting on was in those days.Poor me on a mites salary was more than happy to get a ride and a free meal and he didn't seem like a bad sort(or I thought I could deal with him).Well he drove like a bat out of hell (think he was showing off,and does so even now)and landed me home safe and sound,hung around at the gate to do small talk(and I was wondering when he would just go home).
The next day was just a casual "would you like a lift home" and then it kind of became a regular thing.I believe the first part of their plan had worked beautifully.

old age,old friends

I have lived with old age for the past ten years.Besides spotting my first grey hair and wrinkles,I have been witness to my parents grow old before my eyes.It is probably the most traumatic process in my life and it drains and saps me mentally and physically.If this is what it does to me I can imagine what it does to them.To be sick is not an easy situation,to be helpless and dependent is worse especially when one has been at the helm of things and run the show,taken decisions,been financially independent and so on.Today in the twilight years the tables are turned and its not easy to accept.
Opinions are divided on this situations.A number of my family probably think I make a big deal of it but to be in the situation is to know,to watch suffering is to feel and the best one can do is to bend over backward to ensure the best medical attention that money can buy.
Today was one such situation and I have to thank my friends from school and college.Over the last few years we have developed a network of old friends,girls we have dredged up from the past,girls who have grown up with me from the age of six and today those girls bailed me out.
Desperate with a father who is ill and not getting better,I had got hold of a doctor who actually makes house calls(a rare occurrence).My husband was instrumental in getting this organised and he supports in small but significant ways which help and support me psychologically.The doc ordered a number of test and the results proved that the father was on a real low keel probably needing hospitalisation.She recommended a geriatric doctor but didn't have his number.Desperate to get medical attention organised,I call the school girl network(why I don't know but I guess they know what i go through,they understand urgency without being told and all of them have old parents or parent and they know mine)She called a cousin who is a medical rep and gave me sketchy directions to the doc.While she did that,yet another schoolfriend located yet another school friend and help was arranged.
We got to the doc,organised the medication,got the phone number of emergency services and came home feeling a lot better.We may not have st oped nature in any way,but in my heart I am glad that I haven't written my dad off as being old enough to die.For me while there is life there is hope and I am convinced that I have to pull out all the stops to get the parents the best I can find.Too many in my family have died because they have been too far away from the nearest hospital.
It 8.30pm of yet another trying day and I will probably get hauled up for bunking work but its probably one thing I will not regret.

our great pondy trip

The friends gang had put together a trip to Pondycherry,the chubby boy had a cousin who had a flat and a car.That twenty years ago was really something.We girls were warned that he was good looking but the rules of friendship did not permit hitting on friends cousins.We promised to keep to rules (I had no intentions of doing so if there was a good looking boy around but somethings are best not admitted).
The group was to have three boys,chubby,intensity and nice boy along with ms proper,reckless me and hip and happening other girl.Ms proper and I got cold feet as the departure date came along.In those days nice mallu girls didn't go away for weekend trips with gang of boys.So we put our heads together and decided that all parents had given permission to go (that's the story we would tell our respective mothers should they ask)and the boys were not to be mentioned.One of them was (nice boy)mentioned because he was married and that made him safe and very appropriate as chaperon.
So all packed we set off to the bus stand(we slummed it out in them days).Chubby and intensity had got all the chemistry worked out(we were unaware) so the seating arrangements were planned in advance,chubby would share bus seat with ms proper and intensity with me.Hip and happening was spoken for so was paired with nice boy.
The trip itself was rather dull.Chubby was all charm and grace in front and intensity was fast asleep even before the bus started(nothing has changed in that department).Of course he didn't last very long sleeping,made sure he woke up and talked.(i am pretty good at getting people to talk).Noticed for the first time that he had nice hands(have this thing for hands).
Arrive in the dead of night and no sign of cousin.Tired and dirty we are ready to kill chubby (he promised that his organisation skills were a notch above ours).Well ,before we got our knives out the cousin appeared.Hmm....rather nice.Six foot something (our gang was in the range of five feet something)and pretty good.Hip and happening was quick off the mark and made a beeline for cousin(all rules forgotten).We hung back(after all we cant be so blatant).Sometime in the night we got accommodation at the ashram.One huge room with dom beds.Ms proper and I were a bit taken aback(nice mallu girls didn't share rooms with boys,even friends)but since there wasn't a choice we buckled down to it.
The rest of the holiday went crazy,we spent the night playing cards.Intensity was very good at it(he still is tho now the rules have changed).Me -gave everyone a good facial(ponds cold cream taken from ms proper...you could count on her to have everything,band aid,cold cream,tissue etc)
The cousin was also now part of group and we insisted on taking pictures.The photos we go back to from time to time because it brings back so many memories.(many a dispute on who was hitting on who,but cant find the answer)
Next day,we went around the town in cousins car.Chubby decided to drive(he wasn't very good then).Unfortunately for us the governor decided to leave at that moment and we were there(bang in front of his car).His security detail tried in vain to get us off the road(i will be killed for this but chubby hadn't a clue how to move out of the way,so he kept to the straight line)We girls were convinced that the security chaps would blow our brains out(they were all there guns at the ready)so we got hysterical and yelled instructions which get chubby more confused.Well we just got away and so did the Governor(to this day raj bhavan pondy brings back that hilarious situation and i can laugh myself silly).
While we were out on the beach trying out stuff (hip and happening,tried her first cigarette,ms proper and I played in the water while the boys looked on,and nice boy kept watch....no mischief under his nose,he was in charge)nice boy got the food organised and cousin got the drinks done.Unfortunately the cousin was warned by chubby so he kept his distance from us (deeply disappointed at that turn of things...what are friends for and all that).
Time to leave and we find that nice boy had gone back to the room (unknown to us) and is fast asleep.There was a bus to catch and he refused to get up.Threw water on him and that got his goat.He yelled so much and gave us a talking to and asked us to leave him alone(I suspect two days with us was too much to handle)
So we were back on the bus and safe home but to this day,the entire gang will agree that that was one of the best days of our lives.

friends

Fifteen years ago,when I joined a publishing house as a newcomer,there were hardly any people I could relate to.Desperate to get some company,I latched on to the only other girl in office.She had been around a year longer so knew her way around.There were of course others ,all sniffing around trying to figure out the new kid on the block but as a vary one I kept my distance and got a low down on each of them from the girl I had befriended.That done I got along with some of them but for the better part they were a set of secretive,mallus who one is best advised to keep away from.
Of course over the course of the next few years we had all become friends.Out of this office emerged a group of friends some four to begin with and which went on to perhaps six in all.Twenty years later,we still remain friends and still call on each other in times of crisis and pain.We have had our share of woes,our differences of opinion and our little fights.Despite the ups and downs the relationships flourished and merged so that now four of the original gang have become two(we married our good friends) and the others we meet when we visit their towns or call .
Why I am writing this?A short while ago (one of them who now has long chats with me on gmail )one of them and I were being nostalgic about those them days and I suggested we make a film on our lives in those wonder years.Knowing how lazy each of us is,I figured the best thing to do was blog.
It starts with the short curly haired mallu girl.She of the boarding school kind is very pucca,well mannered,neat to a fault and quiet the perfect little miss.Me...the exact opposite,reckless,untidy,always eating into her space at the work table(despite well worded protests).I sometimes think I did it just to bug her.She reminded me so much of my very proper sister.
The boys(who will now object violently to being called that).One chubby boy with glasses who joined my team and gave me a rose on the first day(give me a break who did he think he was)Amused,I gave him a little rope and we were thrown together so often that we ended up being friends.He was all charm and upmarket aftershave(indulgent sister in the states)His great fondness for unearthing even a remote possibility of a scandal was a great source of inspiration.With his half baked news and mine,we always arrived at the latest office gossip long before the others.
A year later chubby got his friend along to join us in the same organisation.Thin and pimply and a certain tightness (in later years I discovered it was intensity)this boy and I had a huge fight the day we met.Chubby enjoyed himself to the hilt but claimed later (in hindsight) that this was the beginning of a great romance between the boy and me.(to be taken with huge bag of salt despite it turning out to be true).
Over the next couple of months the boys for some strange reason always ended up with girl and me.It started with having lunch together,then trips to the beach(boys and girl had bike,I was always pillion).The beaches changes ,the winds changed and before we knew it there was something in the air.We didn't acknowledge it but the equations were there.Chubby and I on one team and girl and intense boy on the other.Healthy rivalry fuelled the friendship.It was a strange chemistry.Four people so alike and yet so different.Girl always laughed at intense boys jokes.I couldn't find anything funny about them and neither did chubby.Chubby and I loved to create intrigue and danger (it never existed) because that's what kept us going so we were branded together,moles we were constantly digging up dirt.
I think what kept this gang going was that one half was lazy ,indulgent,untidy and always hungry and the other was organised,dedicated,neat and very proper.
A couple of years later the gang expanded to include one more girl (hip,smart and out to enjoy life) and a boy (looked older than us) who lived on the edge.He was so different from us that he became friend instantly.Simple homespun charm was what he had and to this day he remains at heart the same chap.
The bonds remain even though we meet rarely but the stories and memories continue and we shall bring them up as and when memories bubble up.
(all characters in this story exist and even though they may protest about my descriptions,this is my version of the association)

ends and beginnings

Its a full circle now.Today the start of a new year with all its ups and downs.Last evening driving home in traffic,it struck me,difficult to explain but a certain something in the air.Clear anticipation.Was there less traffic,were there more crowds at shops,was everyone in a better mood.I cant figure it out but it was there,a certain atmosphere of a new beginning and it communicates in the air.By nightfall it was getting stronger.By midnight the crackers went off to summon the new year,sms messages non stop,parties late into the night.
The city was well prepared,the barricades were all ready at the beach front,the police was stationed at vantage points,hotels outdid themselves in creativity(some of it led to tragedy).How does a new year become so universal.In our country I can name a number of new years,tamil,punjabi and so on.According to different religions and stars but the New year of the Christian calender is universal.
This morning in church,some more history or myth but nevertheless interesting information.The new year was the baptism of the baby Jesus according to Jewish rights.This morning a 350 year old oil painting restored and rededicated to the church alter.This morning I knew all the hymns at church.I looked at the selection of hymns in awe.Yesterday I sang most of them in the car while in traffic.Why those songs....they were the favourites at school and this morning it all took me back to school assembly,the checking for clean nails,the hiding of dirty shoes,hoping the head teacher wouldn't notice,the playing of the piano for us to march in to assembly and like magic the priest at the church today was the uncle of the only boy who was a friend at school.It was indeed a trip down memory lane at the start of the year.

The cobbler

last week in the mad rush of last minute gift buying,I dashed into a bookshop only to be stoped dead in my tracks thanks to the slipper giving way at the wrong time.One snap and I was stranded on the steps and up against a deadline.What did I do?....just two doors away was Metro shoes so I limped my way across,bought a pair for some 800 odd bucks(not even a pair that I would normally buy) and got back to bookstore with new shoes on and finished all my buying and didn't stop to think much.The broken pair of slippers were left behind in the shop.
A week later caught in peak traffic on mount road,I allowed myself the luxury of looking around at the world while I waited for the lights to change.On the pavement sat a dumpy woman and in front of her were a pair of men's shoes,a pair of boots and an elegant pair of high heeled shoes.She wasn't selling shoes,she was repairing them and then it struck me.I had discarded a pair of slippers without a thought and invested in a new pair.I didn't for a moment think of the possibility that it could be repaired and this is exactly what I would have done a few years ago.It was almost like oneupmanship on friends.All of us got our shoes resoled and redone at regular intervals and we had these shoes for years.Not for us the impulse buys or the throw aways,so what happened to all of us?.We got affluent,we got better pay and so called better lifestyles and in the process we forgot the small trills of life.The hunt for a cobbler near the scene of the broken shoe,the haggling over price of repair and the trill of getting our old shoe back.
The lights turned green and I had to go but at the back of my mind I wanted my broken slipper back,I want to locate a cobbler in that area and I want to stitch it back but alas that moment has passed and I have joined the ranks of the busy and the affluent and it takes a red traffic light for me to appreciate the small pleasures of life,but am I glad there is still some sensitivity left and some happy memories of friends and cobblers.

learning

I have had a lot of learning's this past week and suddenly I am pretty proud that I am still able to learn,still stay strangely innocent in a world where childhood,teens and adulthood are no longer separate stages in life or have each of them got shorter and seems that way.
For instance I went of work in Jeans.That was a first.Never done this but the world around me had changed dress code so what was I doing in my salwar kameeze?.Its pretty liberating to feel like one is back in college,and maybe somewhere my mind will do a flip back to some radical thinking like I did all those years ago.
I also discovered this new community of friends with benefits...for the uninitiated this is not about watching out for the gas man by friendly neighbours,its not about leaving your pet with friends while you holiday.This is simple,a relationship with no commitment,just sex on demand.I think that kind of sums it up.Interesting because by definition friends means commitment on way or the other so that didn't quiet ring true.Secondly these are communities of people who are perfectly sure of what they are getting into and most of them are pretty young(at least by my standards).They are all well aware that the heart may play to a different tune but they control their hearts so that's fine.It opened my eyes to the new age.I think this did exist in some form or the other in the hippie days but now its a norm among the young and restless.I marvel at their control over their hearts,their emotions.
I stop to wonder why for me those walks on the beach,roses and old fashioned chocolates,discussions on books and holidays and stuff like that was what I considered benefits.
I also learned to talk to people twenty years younger than me and stay connected.Its like starting over.I learned to lower my standards to suite the current situation,I am learning that peoples values have changed and while I don't have to change mine,I need to understand the change and deal with it.In between my black and white and grey world,there is a tinge of blue.Like I said I am getting a first hand lesson in emerging sociology and I am still discovering.Do I like what I see and hear?...well does it matter as long as I am aware of the changing world and lean to live in it.