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.