Disclosure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Animal farm

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

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

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

The scan

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

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

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

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

Mother notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John,Peter,thomas and three sisters

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

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

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

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

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

Time hangs

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

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

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

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

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

Battling

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

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

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

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

Suffering

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

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

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

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

The Lord provides

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mother of mine

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

From despair to hope

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

Dull July

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

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

The best of friends

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

No time to live

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

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

Summer

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

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

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

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

April is the cruelest month

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

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

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

Mad March

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

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

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

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

Farmers markets,Indian style

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

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

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

Fun February

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

High on a bullet train

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