A guilt trip!

My girl has grown up! Big time! Its been a lot of muddles and puddles metaphorically for me lately. While I am physically on all the tasks that I ever do, there is a great sense of absence at the same time. Not sure how many of you mothers out there have been there and felt that! I fixed her dinner about a few days ago and sat down next to my Docking station and played an old Hindi number. I guess I had switched off at that time. She turned around and said, “ Amma you aren’t listening, why don’t you switch off the song?”. Quite alarmed at the direct interrogation I just smiled and switched it off. She then quietly ate her dinner and pinged my man from my hand phone to ask him where he was and when he is expected at home. Surprisingly, she closed the food and cleared the stuff clean. Cut the fruits and came and sat next to me with a smile. She simply started rattling about her day(she only normally does when asked for it!). While I definitely did not listen to her jabber I keenly observed her to know that she too was just  trying to switch me back to HER mode. The day ended with a guilty me.

Preoccupation is an obsession. It does eat into my routine and I just call it concentration lapse. On a normal, good day as a mother there are always things left to be done, things to be said, chores to be completed, long awaited topics to talk to my girl. Its always a fantastic conversation where I not only listen to her voice and what she says, my antenna senses what she hasn’t said too! Being able to read her that way makes me feel rest assured and contended. Never thought that she will ever have such a ear for me. With her quiet disposition and just a few sentences she conveys her worry for me. Her silences are more compelling than her jabber. She never persists like I do. She quickly lets me be and continues with her routine. Of course there is an extra bout of talk with the dad but that’s about it.

 Unhealthy, unprecedented moments have nothing to offer. As rational beings, we understand this on a good day. Succumbing to it is a choice that we all make consciously and then of course blame the times and circumstances. The issue never solves and may be never meant to be solved. Hey may be even not worth the effort here to blog about it. What remains at the end of the day is those few hours of a meaningful life and fun has already slipped off on the not-so-eternal Time.

Life definitely presents many difficult times…. things that we say have never happened and therefore we messed it, things that  shook our balance and things that cause unnecessary ruptures to a fully blown happy life! We have no one to blame for the falls, bruises, scars, cuts and the metaphorical fractures so to speak! If only we realize the cliché …a line often told by my paternal grand mom every time I played more and worked less ” This time and day will not come again”(In Tamil). Snap off and cut short! Let go and switch off! Bounce back to the important people and make up for the precious time lost!

The only saving grace is my girl’s “ Amma are you ok today? Want to tell you something! It’s a bit silly but will tell you….will you ACTUALLY listen? Surely? ” There is possibly nothing meaningful she will say but she has said enough to get me back! At least back to her

Its a no-no to cake!

Many birthdays with this man has gone by. One thing sure shines through. He hates mushy romantic expressions. This year has been special in a lot of ways for him. 41 is a clear indication that the 40 has started and trouble with the bones and limbs brewing. Quite literally one of his finger bones have been broken from some heroic cricket. I’m not proud of it any more. They bother me big time. I digress. Will come back to what annoys me a little later. Pleasantries first!:)

His daughter makes the ‘mushiest’ card and he receives it with the ‘mushiest’ smile I heard(Amma, Daddy was so happy and shy!).   Many years have slipped by starting with the first year of our married life when I brought a small cake with candles to blow at the stroke of 12 and my man simply thought that I was out of my mind and need some serious counseling. It shocked him, annoyed him, puzzled him and opened his eyes to a whole new idea of celebrating a birthday!

By laughable Rach means 'Fun loving'. But all the adjectives have a message for me also:)

more hearts and stickers for the dad!

Some years I have been scolded for spending on expensive gifts and wasting my time in the hot Madurai sun looking for A.R.Rahman CDs. It made no sense to him as the songs could well be heard on normal cassette tapes. Music was his second love (first being Cricket as you all knowL), it still wasn’t reason enough to spend on a complete ARR album those days! Now  are you already wondering its not worth it as the first and second places have been taken off and  where I feature! Well, better not to speculate and lets move on. Third place still has many contenders you see!  And I simply rest the issue of this ‘whole place thing’ (like he calls it!) for reasons very apparent!:)

One year was a Tshirt that was ‘wrong’ colour because the only right colour was blue you see! One year was a perfume that gave him a strong migraine and another was an informal shoes that were not tasteful enough and a bit garish too in his standards. Sigh! Never got it right! Oh not to forget the wallet that didn’t have a coin pouch and the Robinsons leather belt that was too large for his jeans loops. Sigh again. Comedy of errors! And yet I persevered!

This year is the first time I get it right! A plain milk semiya payasam does the magic. Of course there are small things to take care but most of all a fantastic hit with him! Let him watch some cricket if he gets home in time for it, a good traditional meal that has ‘Morkuzhambu’ in it and of course a visit with the family to the temple. A short walk, then sitting by the side of the pool and listen to (no sorry ‘bear with’) some cricket jabber.   People,  that’s about what he ever wanted in the first place to start with.

Its strange as years roll by that the more we need is just being us and them. Its about the simplest things that the heart finds happiness and peace. Me and my family!  It took us many years of stumbling to hit it right! Though I do complain like a normal wife will always do, about all the differences, its but in great love and respect that I must admit that surprisingly its for the same things that I fell head over heels!

Here’s to my birthday post for him!

As a teacher!

There has been a lot of messages on the phone, mails and messages to tell their wishes! A great  day for teachers indeed. It always warms my heart to see the real and genuine thank you in their eyes. Students and batches come and go. Its but in great interest and memory that we remember each student and that one thing they did, that definitely gets them remembered forever.  

If ever we meet students after many years and that has happened a many many times, there is a certain fear that immediately pops up. God, can I get the name right? Batch right? Almost always we do get it right. Nothing is more offending than to get these two wrong. Else of course you got to remember something uniquely the student did right. Well, that sets them smiling and they are just plain immensely happy that they are still in your memory with such detail even though you forgot the name and batch. I admit that at the stroke of the word, “Hello Ma’am. Do you remember me?”I am very nervous and already wearing a smile to conceal my wracking of the head to place a kid in a batch that left 8 years ago or 10 years ago. Then quickly recall the name. One thing is assured-every kid we teach is special and we had them in our heads all the time when we taught you and perhaps as years go by and so many more batches have come to take the place in our minds only miss placing them by a whisker!

Its an absolutely engaging conversation thereafter. It drifts to the other classmates they are in touch with, the small incidents they recall from their still young minds(which we sometimes don’t recall…. age does catch up on us!). Most of the times we do! What they did and what they are doing. What plans for the future and then of course “Ma’am did you have more brilliant batches than us?”(this question is normally from the more competitive ones). Now this is a tricky one. Well yes and no! Well we might want to say yes(because that’s what they want to hearJ) ,  the answer may still be we did have other batches brilliant in other different ways. The fact remains all students and batches are indeed special to all teachers and we do hold them in our memory all the time.

Year after year we teachers take pride in telling others how brilliantly our kids do in University and even share with our other colleagues those brilliantly written short notes of appreciation from students. Its in all these little notes, the thank you mails and messages, the eyes that scream gratitude, the smiles that show the respect that we teachers think a world of what we do. We brag subtly (this is refined as we get older in this profession!:)) and sometimes more proud of their college admission than their parents themselves. I am boastful- Like so emany more of my other colleagues, I hang these notes in my cubicle in the staffroom and have a whole lot of them read them right through the year! Now –a-days its also when students knight you to write their college ‘Letter of recommendation’.  The words flow and ebb with content when it indeed was a fantastic student. We then know that what we did makes a difference and even strive to do it better as years go by!

And wonderful notes and surprises!

Happy to acknowledge another year of Teacher’s Day wishes!

The Moon

It stays shining in the dark.

While my heart sings like a lark.

When I see it shining forever,

I know I will remember.

The little things that was just right.

Every tick of day and night

That came together to shine

Making my days just plain fine.

Whispers, jabber, smiles and laughter

That can be reminisced years after

The maddening tides that lie dormant

Waves that lashed like a Tyrant

It eclipsed the Earth from the Truth

Yet shining high and in exactitude

Over the formidable mountains

Never asking for eminence.

No Witch and Broom.

Can ever capture the Moon.

Grab a moment to stop Time

And revel at the Beauty of the eternal glitter and shine.

An Eye for it!

There has been a lot of jabber about the London Olympics at home. Apps have been down loaded, the channels have been set for switching effortlessly  and seamlessly to watch it. Alarms have been set in the wee hours of the night when Usain Bolt was going to be on action. Honestly with my schedule I could never have managed the late night watching and that too middle of the week. I personally am glad for all the energy all the games has instilled into my girl. She has been passing very serious, thought provoking and witty comments about shooting, swimming, badminton, tennis(she will support Djokovich as I am a Federer fanJ), Gymnastics, Pole vault, high jump, diving and of course the tracks and basketball. For me, it was seeing the London Eye and the spectacular country side as the cyclists made their way. She adds," J.K Rowling got her Harry Potter idea when she was crossing the King's Cross station."

There is a big OOH and HAAA about the ‘dunks’ the giants of the USA basketball team seem to perform. The whole week and the next one saw her snatch a few minutes to go down to play basketball with whoever she could convince to play with her. Quite a rage it has created in her. She just plays the first five for her school for matches with other schools in the country. That said, its but in great happiness that I admit that the game was never addressed with such a lot of enthusiasm as it has been now. No matches coming as yet and yet a great amount of passion stirred to just play. While the whole of last year I have been harping on just going down and playing for the joy of playing basketball it quite happened automatically this year. Thanks to the 2012 London Olympics.

“Amma that’s Kobe Bryant. He looks the best and plays the best! His free throw success rate is 99.99%” While she saw me show an expression of dislike for the face, she turned to her dad and he confirmed, “Yes she is right! The best looking of the lot.". She then adds," And watch out for his passes. He has strategies when he passes!”  She also distinguishes between good play and good looks when I made a ‘stupid’ comment to check out her opinion. She has strong ideas and has a strong vocabulary too when she condemns my shallow understanding of players and their capabilities. I’m glad for the first time to be verbally beaten. There is a certain pleasure in it!

Sports has in it the unique power to stir energy. It builds the inner walls of our personalities. It then lends itself to the other things we do outside the tracks and fields. When her hands go up in joy and the fingers refresh the statistics page on my iphone, every now and then, as she watches the Olympics, I know not what her future holds. But one reassuring thought crosses my mind. Its in these innumerable passionate moments that she will find her winning ways. A grit and need to think, reflect, rejoice, win, lose, analyze, strategize and yet stay in it to enjoy the game and its magic.

People, for me that’s what the Olympics this year was all about!

  

Shedding beliefs!

Subramanyan sasthrigal came home. It was a constant jabber from patti in the morning to have an early bath and have breakfast before he arrived with his ponytail and the grey ash spread lavishly all over him. When he arrived in his moped he looked like god’s messenger definitely. Its only to him have I seen appa being so disgustingly meek and sober! First of all the idea of the early rise, all the preparations at home that was focused on the new thread that my dad and my bro were going to wear on this day of 'avani avittam' was close to a big joke for me for a variety of reasons. Owing to the acting skills that my bro picked up in school he managed the most serious looks for appa and sasthrigal mama! The whole ceremony of changing the sweat filled, dirty thread that was worn throughout the year, was another back breaking and sweaty episode of mantras and pouring water from one panja pathram to another and finally pouring everything in a huge ‘thambalam’(I might have got this part mixed up!)! It did not end there! Wait! The thread itself was held like you were going to shoot a rubberband skywards-stretched and vertically apart! Break! Mama’s filter coffee arrived at that moment. Bad luck to the men in my life! Stay that way as sasthrigal mama finishes his ‘davara degree kapi’ made with the greatest reverence by amma, sampled by patti and finally burped off by sasthrigal mama!

One thing is pretty vivid in my memory! Subramanya sasthrigal, his dad Krishnan mama and god knows anyone else in that lineage- all of them hated the rude and curt stares I gave them. They could tell I did not have the same reverence as the people in my house. After an hour and half of mantras chanted(I suspect my bro only did lip movement!), the dirty, smelly and brown thread was replaced by a new crispy  and clean white one.

Subramanya sasthrigal then spoke loud(very loud as he knew everyone in this household thought he was god’s marvel creation who actually needed to be treated like Lord Krishna himself!) with appa about economic growth, the karunanidhi-Jayalalitha wars, the Rajinikanth fan pandal that was so noisy and then of course mistakenly remembered to tell appa and bro to do the Gayathri mantram the next day. Quite religiously the idlis and vadas were served on the banana leaf along with coconut chutney(pretty much standard…unless patti felt she must add venpongal to this list). It ended with payasam-adapradhaman most of the time-my highlight for the day!

Every year this man asked me the most annoying question of my life..” samaikka theriyuma(do you know cooking?)?!” He seriously had guts. Beyond my absolutely unmistakable, discourteous looks, he seemed to find a way to ask this question. Not over! It was always accompanied with the most annoying smirk because he knew the answer. This question is a clear representation of the sickening male chauvinism!It told you that women just need to do that and may be only that!  My dad would smile amusedly to lighten my spirits. I just told him “No” in Tamil and got on with the book I was reading! I can burn him with my words but I won't as appa will never forgive me for that! Daddy was his cross!

The next day as I sneak into my bro’s room to whack his racquet, I could see he was up already. Throwing a quick glance at the room, I rush out. As I leave the front gate, I see him sitting in the garden swing, drinking his narasus kapi and reading the Sports page of the Hindu. “Your thread is lying under the pillow. Pick it up before Gayathri japam and wear it!”, I warned him as I left to the school bus that was honking.

I simply don’t see the point. The point of all the fuss!

Built to perfection from within!

Being a teacher has often times taken me to places to do the things that I would have otherwise never done. It was a week’s trip to the Telunas island recently. While I will write many posts on thoughts about it, here is one to start with…kind of one to break into the mental constipation of thoughts that I have been going through ever since I have been back.

As part of their curriculum the Junior college kids at school need to complete 150 hours of CAS(Creativity, Action and Service). This trip to Telunas, Sugi and Moro island had a lot of all the three. The sugi island school had a school that had classes(Kelas in Bahasa) till primary 5 and the school itself needed to raise a wall in order to mark their territory for legal reasons. Life had reasons for them too and disputes too for land that a neighborhood landlady claimed  was hers. By raising that stone wall we subtly told her, her limits and in return my class kids helped her with her house building too! Disputes sometimes, makes for constructive thoughts and actions to spring!

Three wheelbarrows of mud to one packet of cement to be mixed. They poured water and let the water bind the cement-mud mixture. The consistency was learned by trial and error. They then took small buckets of this mixture to the fences and used these to glue the big stones together.

Mixing the cement with the shovels and preparing the 'glue' as my kids called it!

These big stones had to be broken to sizes they needed to fit the various corners of the wall!

Digging to prepare the ground for the wall. Back breaking it was.

The wall slowly raised. Learning to sustain the heat was half the battle won.

Stopping and thinking which size rock piece will go where was not easy.

That one of my class girls who used her hands as she found it easy to go between the rocks!

The wall was so uneven to start with.

Finally at the end of day 1 quite a bit of ground work had been done!

 Though this took just three sentences to describe it certainly took the sweat out off all of us as we toiled together to raise the fence a whole day in the scorching sun. There were atleast 6 water breaks with one of them being the juice break that served honeydew juice too..absolutely fresh and cool prepared by the staff of that school specially for us.

The ditch was our guide’s pet project atleast it seemed like and my class kids shared the sentiments with him to perfect the geometrics of it too! At every brick that was laid, every single of us who worked on it had to stop and assess how linearly it was aligned. Carrying the big bricks and laying them to perfection was one thing and then pasting them together with a cement mix that was more dry than the one we used for the wall was another.  

One striking feature was the warmth the people of the village showed us by preparing a fantastic, spicy and welcoming lunch that had many highlights! The curry puff surely was one of them.

The food that they served us with lots of love was yum!

 The whole day drew to an end when we ran out of breath to simply mix more wheelbarrows to cement. That’s as much energy this project took. Everyone worked with different things striking them but one thing was common in all our minds- to serve from the heart and to see the tangible results of our sweat at the end of the day. The hands that strung rubberbands and threw paper planes in class and the voices that smacked words of mischief now was quietly washing the tools to put in place to dry for tomorrow.

Raising a wall metaphorically these days is so easy. We do it all the time with people. Quite useless and has intangible negative impacts in our lives. But this wall raised, stood for the work we believed in, taught my kids that construction workers in our country do a hundred times more hardwork each day to earn their daily bread, community service in its truest sense is to provide from the heart and do it to perfection for a mere self-satisfaction. It had my kids look at that wall, as they washed their tools, squatting together in total silence. Each of them snatched a glance of their hard day's work! Some stood next to the wall, as we walked back and took pictures, spoke about what needs to be done to that odd stone, jutting out, the next day when they restarted. To me that was clearly objectives fulfilled. They had no one telling them to straighten it, correct it or perfect it and yet the earnesty of that streak of thought, that went into their own work was a perfection with its own class, already. People, this moment of earnesty and devotion was priceless to see. Even if the wall they built wasn't the perfect one, they  were certainly shaping perfect big hearts within!

Nursery crimes.

There is something crudely wrong with the definition of a lullaby by the entire human species. It is meant to soothe the mind and relax the senses of the baby. Its supposed to put him to sleep and transport him to a world of sweet dreams and fairies. But look what we have been singing to generations of babies . Shocking !

Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come baby, cradle and all

And did you imagine a rudely awakened baby and a mother trying to reach out to a falling cradle. How unpredictable and cruel can one make life through this seemingly ‘Sweet lullaby’! Imagine people-mother, baby, wind blowing quietly, tender love in the air, lullaby tune and the harsh act of baby falling off the cradle.

Three blind mice, three blind mice,
See how they run, see how they run,
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a thing in your life,
As three blind mice?

My god! A carving knife.  A curious child will first ask his mom about a carving knife that cut the tails of the mice .Probably preparing to own one. It certainly sounds like a heroic weapon to hold and cut.  Can life get more violent! ‘Blind’ mice that too!

Here’s a total blower.

Ladybug ladybug fly away home,
Your house in on fire and your children are gone,
All except one and that's little Ann,
For she crept under the frying pan.

‘House is on fire’ and ‘children’ all gone is a sure washout scene. So the moral: Creep under the frying pan. What a disaster of a poem that sends shudders down my spine. The fear of the unknown has been seeded with all evil intent!

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children she didn't know what to do!
So she gave them some broth without any bread,
And she whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed!

What a virago is she! She whipped them all soundly. And I wonder how soundly will the whip be when its on those tender skin. People,  the world of nursery rhymes holds so many more such spine chilling and absolutely cold blooded murderous thoughts.

The other day after a really long long time I sat watching Tom and Jerry and as always was amused by all the slapstick humour it portrays. Jerry ties a dynamite to Tom’s tail, makes a swirl with it for the clamp, lights the ends of the deadly dynamite, gives the world a devilish grin and shoots him up skywards to the moon! Phew! What on world are we teaching. Fine, a cat has nine lives alright, but this is still too shocking!

I have the most adorable babies on my floor where I live and forever I hear these nursery rhymes played and sometimes I hear the babbling of the babies who are trying to sing along too. While I press for the lift and wait, I often hope to myself that these little innocent minds should never be old enough to understand these lines they sing! God! Are you listening!

A trip down memory lane..

It was in the month of April when my uncle called my dad to tell him that my cousin was having the thread ceremony. That certainly gave me a lot of possibilities streaming in my mind. Exam time it was and so it clearly ruled out the possibility of me having to tag along. The decision was made with appa and patti being the main speakers and amma just feeling so bad that I can’t make it. She hugged me and said that I was unlucky and will have to stay back in the school hostel during that period. While she felt awful about it, I was inwardly jumping in whooping joy as this was an opportunity to have fun in the girls’ hostel along with my best friends.

As I lived pretty much in the same colony, I was walked to the hostel with amma who went non-stop about how I mustn’t fuss and eat well. She kept insisting that if I did not eat well, I can’t write exams well! Well by now you know that she is obsessed about how well I eat always…something like the way I do with R now. For what seemed like a gluttonous mom’s conversation to a ever-starved daughter, she ended, “Sleep on time and wake up early! We will call you once a day and you must be a good girl!”

Minutes after she left, our hostel incharge who was also our fantastic English teacher, walked in. Drama begins. I obviously was going to share the room with my 2 friends who had just got up and had apparently missed breakfast downstairs. She stood at the doorstep and looked hard at us. She then went non-stop about how untidy the room was, why they hadn’t gone down to breakfast and just how immune they were to her words! While this was happening and strongly considering the extremely picturesque colony we lived, one of my friends who got up and stood near the huge French windows suddenly got distracted by the chirping of a bird on a tree. She peered out in curiosity and yes the decibels rose higher and a punishment was meted. The other friend of mine had just stopped staring at the book she was reading, kind of finally book marked the “Stephen King” novel   and looked up in remorse. This whole episode ended with a meek ‘sorry’ from them and our teacher walked over to her daughter’s room from where we heard louder words!

The scene in our room slightly changed now. There was reaction other then curiously peeping at the bird in the tree and getting buried with Stephen King, clothes folding started that to me seemed forever. We all folded and folded clothes. While the cupboards were being cleaned we giggled about the morning scolding and speculated about what her afternoon mood is likely to be. I was appointed for asking her permission for going for the evening open air movie of which we did not even know the name!

The open air theatre that served awesome channa bathura!

We all went down for lunch much ahead of time and I was clearly instructed by my friends that they will tell me just what is edible and the rest can be skipped, “And BD don’t make it obvious…but don’t eat the rasam. If maam sees then just take it in a katori but don’t eat ok. Sometimes sambar is also not ok. Just take rice and chappathi. We will tell you what to do”. It seriously scared the wits out of me. I just decided to follow them every step of the way. Finally the fruit for the dessert was my solace. Through the balcony where we sat, the girls threw some stuff to a dog that came by. The doggy sniffed a long time and then walked away. An uproar of laughter was in the air! Dinner pretty much was more pathetic but as we had permission to go to the movies we ate our hearts out there(Channa Bathura by Kumar anne(that’s what we called him) in Madura Club!) and finally at about 10 pm we sat to actually study. Less than 30 mins had gone when one of us decided we were sleepy and so must have a good bath. Finally after all the activity we got hungry again and this was my highlight! We sneaked down to the fridge and found some custard that certainly was not enough. Quite a brainwave occurred to SS and she suggested to us that we can try the 10 big green plantains on our English teacher’s room . Well to put it straight we all ate the stolen plantains to our heart’s content. There were only 3 left over.

The entrance door to the Hostel..shot after 20 years!

The side view also taken after many years.

We ran back upstairs when we heard the watchman banging and whistling. Life surely was adventurous. We then talked about the day in great humor and of course SL read out a few scary lines from the Stephen King and then we actually slept! A lot of laughter, play, lazying, pretending to clean and study, late baths, stealing food, pocketing the dosa before running to the morning school bus, giggling right through study time, hearing ghost stories and alerting each other of the teacher’s room visits! Amazing memories and when we went there for a class meet 2 years back we stood outside and clicked a lot of pictures and one of my friends actually sneaked out alone to click more with memories streaming in.  

 It was careless fun and laughter that warms our hearts even today as we put these stories together on Facebook and I am hoping this post will trigger more!!

Differences that help

The wise man I married a good 15 years ago often remarks that my small town mind cannot read people for nuts. On the contrary I always fought back telling him that inspite of a city upbringing he lacks the prowess to understand the ’ human’ in  people around him. I hate to admit that judging people today is about a 6^th sense.  There is no other way …trust me people there really isn’t another way! Logic, reason and emotion take  a  beating! We later moved on from Madurai to Ambas(rural  to most rural) and then to Bangalore where I made a living. Right from the spinach vendor to Rachana’s Montessori teacher, he taught me to be curt and frugal with words. Those were times with no hand phones. He would wait the full time to call back home to check if I handled the people right. After doing exactly what I was told I would then rationalize the advice and of course argue later in the evening to why he intended to have me handle it in that way. Just call it hi and bye. Its not worth spending your evenings impressing the neighbor girl with your calculus skills. Its not worth it he would say. One thing is assured…everytime I listened to him(I do MOST of the time), I always thought , ‘Is this what my dad called a ‘homely guy’?

Its not once but innumerable times that he will tell me to be skeptical, nonchalant and ignore the petty things of life. He came from a generation of people who believe having a facebook account is a colossal waste of time, who only tweet cricket and read articles of world interest, striking a conversation  with anyone just like that was a foolish act and thinks till today that turning an invitation as he has to watch every ball of the cricket match was perfectly normal. If people thought it was rude,  back luck to them! That includes the sweet daughter’s invite to at least play UNO for a few minutes. If I cribbed about a birthday invite on a Saturday evening that was going to eat into family time, he would just say “Just tell them its family time”. How rude I thought. Oh no I would come up with the most innovative excuse to make sure the people don’t feel bad at all! Of course my ‘be nice’ kind of attitude had always gone down well with our friends and his ‘so whats the big deal’ attitude has earned him a few enemies too! And when I point that out he will simply say, “So how does that help me get my family time with you and Rach”.

BTW, family time for my man simply means wifey cooks, talks(basically he listens only!), smiles, comments along to a cricket match on the TV, teach the daughter a few more stuff on cricket, solve a crossword on his Iphone App, sets the table, eats a stomach full and then for a late night walk across the road with his us! These conversations are rarely about people we know, its normally cricketers, Hindustani and Carnatic music, share prices, how his shoe hurts his ankle, whats the cap on the CPF for me(a part that I am completely blur about), why I must make omelet only 4 times for Rach, why the Sunday NYT Sunday Edition of Today is a must read for me and Rach and why I just need to learn to figure things out more street smartly  and why my intelligence isn’t being used when it comes to non-academic issues! By now, its time to go back and watch a movie and sleep. And people, its for this that I turned down a birthday party invite and turned an office colleague 3 times in a month when they called us for dinner.

In the face of his world, he hardly knows his phone is out of charge, messages remain unread and sometimes calls get unattended. While playing  games on the phone, Rach reads his messages and sometimes also replies the sender politely. Social skills are 'abysmal' and an occasional shout from the sister will just have him say a few more words on the phone to convince her for that moment.

I have always cribbed at home in this area. I started by calling him a moron, then anti-social:) then called him loner, specimen, weirdo and now a new name- Wise old oak who knew it all!  What needs to matter only needs to matter and just to let you know as no cricket was telecast this weekend, this is what he did with my girl having me make papdi chaat and some ginger tea at 6 pm on Saturday and of course pulling me into what seemed like an argument about my pathetic sense of understanding of people. They told me to stop whatever I was doing(after the chaat and tea of course) and use my good calligraphy skills and use a permanent marker in all the covered books!

R listens to her father's narration of David Cameron's deep sea diving and watches him cover her books!

 Ok people you get the drift don’t you! To be task oriented is probably a natural bliss rather than people oriented. People may fail but tasks cannot. That in a nutshell defines the differences we share. And for the first time, keeps me rested, that this difference exists!

The faithful and silent Oak

Life’s like a jungle,

The Lion roars in what seems majestic for the first time,

Quietly and stealthily running after his prey,

Leaving no footprints behind as he hunts.

Leaving no marks but sure footed like the mountain goat

He seems adept at the prey execution.

Quite like it was always handled perhaps,

But little does the deer smell the decayed meat on his fur.

Within the darkest shadows of this life exists bigger demons

Intangible and pressing,

Stronger than a word of evidence,

Sharper than the pangs of Agony.

I call them demons, Thy Conscience,  and may be Angels disguised too.

Something misplaced and amiss sure is.

Wrong, slandering, lies, camouflage, deceit that was born of character

Because of a desire unquenched for the predator.

While the grass chewing deer narrowly escaped,

The hungry Lion angered by the times

Walked back on dried grass to leave no traces of himself.

After all tomorrow will be another day!

The Old Oak that sheltered the deer, watched,

His wisdom so resilient and overpowering,

Respectable and Secure , though His branches

Still stand languid and torpid , and  yet so rock-like for his deer.

Beyond being a Teacher

My English teacher walked in with a Hindu crossword puzzle every day. The paper was folded in 4 and tucked along with the “Julius Caesar” or the “Anthology of poems” that we did in ICSE. While we stood up to greet  her , she showed her hands in a way that said “ Never mind sit down”. She would then loudly ask “High conservative, small at heart ?  It is difficult to believe“, it is 4 letters and 5 letters. Can anyone guess this one? I have been thinking about this since morning. Very rarely anyone of us got a brainwave and shot off some word that fit her boxes right and of course to see that flash of a smile from the one person I knew who could bring literature alive in class.  Well,  The answer to this one was 'Tall Story' .

She kept our class rapt in ways , I confess. She read the words and rattled the interpretations in way that we ended up feeling we wanted more. Few  unforgettable experiences were the way she showed us in words and actions what a love-knot was in the  Highway Man, showed us the country side of the Solitary Reaper. One wondered why Wordsworth didn’t use those words too!  Her ‘Daffodils’ lesson was in total pin-drop silence. Till date I can remember that day, when the poem finished and she had explained the beauty of what Wordsworth saw everyone of us were transported to that plain where ‘when our heart with pleasure fills’ and danced ‘with the daffodils’. The stabbing of Caesar by the conspirators was imagined to the last detail by her interpretations of Shakespeare’s otherwise licensed writing! You could tell she liked Antony and she despised Cassius.

Looking out for the colour of the crisp cotton sarees she wore was the event of the day. Classy and charismatic. An occasional small string of jasmine lit her face but so beautifully that all we girls looked at her longer than we normally did. The red bindi set off her fair skin very well and of course she played with the plaits as she read the lines out in such astounding eloquence. The modulation was impeccable. Language flowed and ebbed its way through the air. A complete command over what she delivered and oozing passion of what she was saying. Heart and soul into what she taught us. She let us argue with her, have our piece of fun between the discussions and ask stupid questions.

Our batch was a high achieving batch in academics and outside and whenever we won something she will say a one-liner to us and make our heart sing for that smile that went with it. It was special in every sense of the word.”Give it all you have”, she told me once when she prepared me for an elocution competition. That line stuck with me till this date and I often say it to my girl.

She was a feminist and was so well read that she could take on any topic under the sun to discuss it with us fiercely. She fought for what was right and called a spade a spade. There was a spirit she had that was unconventional and untamed. We girls loved it..every bit of that! Its one of those see it to know it kind of feeling! A true woman of today with values of yesterday – all intact! We loved the combination and yes she was someone I idolized. Loved her ways and many a times aspired to emulate!

Many many years later when she was present just as beautiful as she has always been on my wedding reception smiling at the camera and the video, I turned to my husband and whispered, “ I grew up looking up to her all my life in school.”

There are many things in life that stay stuck with us. In ways we never realize they will. Its almost like those aspirations has gotten to our nerves even before we realized they had. Many things she did left an indelible mark in our personalities and that I think is being a role model. So here is to that teacher!!

Refresh the list....

It’s complicated people. More than you and I can fathom. This DNA stuff is totally sound science and if there was something you want to begin with, to prove to the next generation that Science is all true and objective, show them how similarly they could strike a chord with you in ways they never knew- all because they had the same code of those helical looking fibers they inherited from you…in all of god’s most beautiful creation. As my girl is growing up I realize that she is similar to me in so many ways and yet so different in other ways too!

My girl has become a young lady quite literally and I am plain apprehensive about life. Its like the clock has started clicking faster and I have very little time to finish my clinical work. I admit I have been having this urge like never before to pamper her and make her feel like a princess but lest she takes advantage of my display of affection and uses the same to dodge the many things she must be doing, anyway, albeit the tight hugs and squeezes that I never will resist . She has always been (so painfully for me!) an independent girl. Confident as she always seems to be, she still has her feminine fears that she so tactfully conceals. One thing very striking about her is her lack of diplomacy in making critical comments on anything that she dislikes. A trait clearly picked from me(Her dad and my bro endorse that!). Call it a brutal truth or blatant fact, it’s the way it is, is the way she will say it. Quite consciously she has been taught to employ refinement. And ironically, I do that. And while I do that, her dad just smirks to himself, ‘Telling her to do things you can’t get right even today!’ kind of look that I pretend not to understand. I fiercely insist on the choice of words and the rhetoric she must apply! Making progress but I do realize there is a bottleneck to what I can achieve in this area that has been pre-programmed! So realistically speaking there is only so much I can do to camouflage.

As a mother I take immense pleasure at her achievements thus far and often mention recaps to her on her gloomy days. My crib story is simple…she is growing up faster than I imagined in ways more than just physical. Our dinner conversations are the most absorbing part of my day. The other day, she told me that she will miss her best friend in our block who was to leave for good. The curious me asked her, “What is it that made you strike with Eesha?”. “Amma, she is very open. We talk of music, basketball, you, daddy, her dad, mom, cricket, movies and sometimes studies”, she said. To which I replied then “In all she was interesting to be with?”” Oh yes always!As unlike many she spoke ‘viewer’s choice’”. That stumped me as she also smirked after that and added , “Not like you. You bore me and daddy with your stuff and school sometimes”. I seriously didn’t expect that. Well people there’s been a transformation. I didn’t quite see when it happened but surely my girl watches me well. Its not often that your own kids tell you ,you are boring.:(

I have been working very hard with her music lately and the two of us have even cut down on play to spend a lot of hours understanding the nuances of Carnatic Music. When finally she presented a few krithis to me and I realized the 2 times she sang she sang it differently, I asked her why. Then with a smile she replied,”Oh you can tell the difference? Which one did you like the second time one? The first time was the way your Madurai teacher taught me and the second time was sir’s way. I am planning to mix the combination when I sing in the exam. If I combine the teacher thinks I am innovating.” She then added that real innovation will happen only after a week and she is still trying. Well, honestly I admit that that kind of understanding human behavior was beyond me at that age. To shamelessly add, its true now as well! She is making slow and steady progress in the understanding of the raga but taking leaps and bounds with understanding people she interacts with. In a way, am I happy for that! Indeed feels restful and at peace to know that she has sound defense mechanisms that will keep her from stumbling in all of life’s tripping stones.

Honestly, life skills are more important than any other according to me. It protects, holds you strong against calamaties, keeps you on purpose and definitely keeps you from making muddled mistakes. As a mother, today, my requirements for things I need for her have a refreshed , new list. Its always like that. In our zest to have the best for them, I want her to do what I did and do it without the cracks and glitches that I made too! What the mother in me will never want to see is her lack of understanding of this world that will cost her dearly as she moves on in this very different world that I need to prepare her for. Everyday has one more thing on my list for her!!

Rearing her has been easy for most parts of it. She is mindful of others and minds herself. Children reflect the world they see very often in a crystal clear way if for all that we keep from imposing our views on them. Its difficult to accept but letting them be is often the only way. As my heart fills up with contentment at her life skills, I shall fill this cyber space with more anecdotes to share in times to come!

In the spirit...

It was the District Under 16 selections the next day in the one and only Race Course stadium  for all track events and badminton. The track and field events never bothered me. But badminton did for a variety of reasons- I never really thought I could play decent matches, the stadium courts were parquet that was different from the cement courts I was used to and the girls playing badminton were specialized in that game and played nothing else. So they must be super good at it! Well atleast that’s how my brains worked when I was 14 years old when I went to bed the day before the matches! Appa was going to drive me to the stadium and amma had packed a whole lot of stuff to eat and drink in my sling bag. There were two things to look forward to- I had a new Yonex Carbon Shaft racquet (Officially my bro’s but borrowed for the day) and a mustard pair of spikes that appa had bought for me from Bangalore as Popli Bros in Madurai didn’t have my size. I also carried a lot of butterflies in my stomach! Of course, paati already telling me to be back by 6 o’clock as the Carnatic music master would be home by then. She always had to talk about something else when she wasn’t too happy seeing me go for what she believed only boys must be doing!! Ridiculous! I never replied to her questions on such mornings and that got her more irritant. “I don’t decide when this whole thing will finish today. So if I don’t come by 6.30 means you can tell the master on my behalf”. Obviously, it infuriated her and she would tell her shlokas with a louder tone.

As usual appa would give me a sermon on ‘Triumph and Disaster’ must be treated as ‘imposters’, put your effort and leave the rest, a few Lincoln speeches quoted sometimes(very honestly they never inspired me as the parallels he drew were always unmatched and too ‘tall’ so to speak), often repeated story of  Sir Winston Churchill who practiced with a marble in his mouth, for months to get over his speech problems and then went on to become the best orator, fight till the end, don’t give up and the one I hate the most- you are playing for the love of sports and for participation, winning is not important!!Of course winning was important and there was no way I could buy that! Anyways such days and such times, I don’t argue with him as he will never agree and he also knows I don’t buy the last part of his advice. The last line when I got off the car would be, “Ok all the best. Drink a lot of juice and water. It’s a hot day today (btw every day was in Madurai!!). If you get access to a phone, call me to tell me how its going.” Well, if I was to play for participation then why should I tell you ‘how its going’! “ok I will” will be my readymade answer.

I got selected for all except the 100m Hurdles, as that year was my first experience with hurdles rather to be precise, Madurai’s first experience with hurdles and therefore 4 out of the 6 of them fell while I was running and thus slowed my timing down. Badminton was a breeze. Called dad to tell him about the prize presentation at 6.30 pm.  “If I am done, I will come over to pick you up, else find your way back home”.  Well well!

Guess who walks in at 6:25pm sharp pretending he just happened to finish his work! Of course my dad would come and of course he won’t admit it in fear of raising expectations. Thats the way he worked with us. The problem is my bro and me knew why and so he has never been successful with such mind games. There are many more such amusing stories. They are just amusing, as the secret objectives of the lessons were already guessed by us!

The drive back home with all the medals will normally be me talking non-stop and he listening. Finally as home came closer I prepared him to handle the ‘archanai’ from paati. ‘Explain to her and make her see your point. Its you and her’. Everybody plays safe with paati except me. That was tougher than all the running and playing I ever did!

After 15 years, I recently played baddy matches last weekend and I realized things were very different. I knew the outcome even before I started playing as I made my conclusions from appearances much better, used more strategy in serves, drank juice off the vending machine, swiped a card in the MRT to  reach the venue,  used the google map on my iphone to find the place, took pictures off my iphone and sent messages about ‘how its going’, ate whole meal bread sandwiches that I had made myself, didn’t get disappointed about a postponement of a prize presentation, wasn’t wholly excited about my new Carbonex 8000 Light racquet, read Hindu’s e-paper between the games and had my family matter-of-factly enquire about the matches! Inspiring speeches are indeed funny to hear today though I do speak of some at home that are infinitely more realistic. No ‘Churchills’ ever come alive at home!

Life’s changed in a lot of ways. Ideals and needs have changed. Lifestyles have changed too to keep abreast with the recent times. The whats, whys and hows of daily living have morphed to something totally alien to how we believed they were. The doubles rules of baddy has changed too! It makes the game much faster. In spite of all the inevitable changes there is one thing that remains…the spirit of being a sportswoman! No matter how long you freeze from playing, it shows up everywhere. The sportsman in us is there to stay…stay and second the nature of all that we ever do in our lives outside the tracks and fields! To me, till date, thats the biggest takeaway!

Namma Metro!

My husband and myself declared to my bro’s driver that we wanted to be dropped off at the Byyappanahalli metro station. He thought he didn’t hear us right. My husband repeated with a smile. “Why sir? I will take you to the city in no time.  After 11, the office traffic will subside. “  It took us a good while to explain in more than necessary ways that the two of us have been wanting to go by the Metro and it had been years since we got on to a public transport in Bangalore. He thought we were a pair of stupid people who didn’t know how to live. Very often when we would suggest to go to Brindavan ( a simple hotel in MG road which is no more and used to serve hot and tasty Bisi Bele Bath with karaboondhi...yum), have coffee in India Coffee House(also no more), go to Murugan Idli Kadai in Madurai, drink coffee in College House in Madurai, go to Janakiram’s in Tirunelveli to eat Pongal, go to the General Bazaar in Hyderabad to do crap shopping,  people always would wonder if the heat of the place has really got to our heads. These are crowded places too! But hold the charm and essence of that city by all means!

The Byyappanahalli station was definitely a total surprise. Absolutely clean, calm and vigilant security. Just a few people around,  in that hour. Infact, there were more security than passengers. The train arrived in a few seconds before which my husband finished scolding me to have taken pictures of the place when the signboard has clearly indicated not to! “How can you click pictures when it is written clearly. What sense of responsibility. Just for your blog we cannot do something wrong.” Does that sound like a sermon? Yes it is of some sort. But used to it neverthless. J

The entrance of the Byyappanalli metro station.

The view to the limited parking slots below.

I normally pretend being remorseful for a few minutes and then just keep smiling. The interiors of the train was spic and span. We were going upto  MG Road station and that was roughly 15 minutes from Byyappanahalli. I loved the view outside.  Given this small duration, and the ticket cost I really didn’t understand why people in that city crib all the time about traffic. Atleast people using this route will benefit big time.  I would have parked my car in the station and taken the metro and then returned by metro and driven back my car home. Ideal it sounds. But surprisingly not many seem to think it’s a great idea. We discussed about the possible bottleneck to parking spaces in the station or a secure parking as reason.

The train door.

You know you are in MG road when your eye hits the oldest building there…The Gangarams.  My God how many years! Certainly can be added in the  ‘Places to see’ list in Bangalore. There was one time when Harry Potter was released and you happened to visit the place. The huge entrance area to the shop was monopolized by hundreds of copies of the book kept in display. The press covering it and many many young Harry Potter looking geeky kids going bonkers over the book and definitely holding a copy of the book close to their chests. Have I diverted? That’s what Gangarams  book store is all about-Great way to go there and browse around!! Time flies and then you have forgotten why you came!

Train interiors.

The Gangarams building in MG Road.

After a full day of Commercial Street shopping and eating, we took the Metro right back. One of the only days in that city when we traveled effortlessly as we weren’t in the car. A fantastic way to beat the horrendous traffic !!  My bro and his driver picked us up at the Byyappanhalli station and almost asked us questions in a way that sounded like “Our condolences.” Hilarious it was. “Are you ok? Are you tired? Legs aching? Can we plan something for the evening? Will you guys be ok? Why did you’ll try this? “

How do I tell him that it was a smooth, effortless, hassle-free, happy travel that we enjoyed! No horns, no waiting, no cursing, no dust and no breaking your head over parking slots!  Definitely a great step forward by the Bangalore Government. I also heard a great deal about the Delhi Metro from someone who simply loves the place but not been on the Metro-my husband. “Must travel on the Delhi Metro”, he told me.

Metro travel certainly gives you a great feeling in any city as long as you don’t HAVE to do it for a daily living I suppose!!:)…So I think and who travels everyday by the Singapore Metro to work!!