I couldn't have watched this movie at a better time in my life. The movie hit home for a couple of reasons -- the marriage to a "North Indian" and the baby girl in their lives. RadhaMohan has directed a realistic and touching movie again after Mozhi. I liked Azhagiya Theeye also but Mozhi left behind several scenes in my head and so also Abhiyum Naanum. In this case though I had to hold back tears and watch the movie (The one time I cried for a movie in front of k -- Naayagan, he hasn't let me forget it even now. Not giving him another opportunity so easily!)
At some points in the movie, Abhi was r~ for me and then it was hard not to get involved. Scenes that were particularly touching: when Ravi says Abhi is his amma, when Prakash Raj looks shocked when Abhi tells him she knows what she is doing, Ravi's song during her wedding, when Prakash Raj holds up his hand and says "Porum ma...you already told me this when you were fifteen, you know what you are doing..." to name a few.
This may seem over the top but I am more patient with r~ after the movie, at least the past 2-3 days and am sort of overwhelmed with affection for her. The movie begins with Prakash Raj telling PrithviRaj that the very mischief that has us begging them to stop now will be the fondest of memories for posterity. And there is truth to that observation. I guess the movie sort of woke me up to the not so distant time when r~ will not need me so completely any more but I will continue to depend on, worry about and learn from, her. In some ways, my life will be determined by the decisions she make. And of course, I thought of my dad and similar events that happened in our lives...
I loved the fact that the comedy track in the movie was well-integrated into the main story. I think the first thing k and I wondered aloud after watching the movie was if r~ would show up with a Sardarji herself twenty years from now! The Balle balle music when Jogi reveals himself at the airport and Prakash Raj's "Yes Sir" salute on the phone to the PrimeMinister were hilarious! There were no unnecessary overflow of emotions, no excesses intended to extract every bit of emotion from the audience, no untimely accidents and unexpected tragedies but still this movie pulls the audience into its narration and manages to even convey a message or two without sounding preachy.
My dear li'l r~, I hope someday you see this movie with me and we can laugh and cry about it together. For now, we can always laugh with Elmo!
November 19, 2009
November 11, 2009
RS, the foodie.
A couple of weeks ago, I was in p~'s place and we were all discussing k's insatiable appetite for baked garlic breads. That led to discussions about everyone's favorite foods and p~ said, "But RS, you don't love food like we do!"
And that is true. I don't love food like k's dad for instance or even k. His eyes light up and this huge smile spreads across his face when he discovers that a favorite food awaits him on the dining table. He'll smack his fingers and inhale the rich aroma from the food and let everyone know that he is happy. The way to a man's heart is...and all that.
I, on the other hand, do not make a big deal of it. If I like it, I eat it with relish. If someone else cooked the food, I tell them I liked it and then get on with it. If I don't like it, I serve myself less of that food or avoid it (in the case of green peas). And then food is forgotten and I am thinking about the next 58 items that I need to do before calling it a day.
But, there are a few dishes (not the American "dishes" -- pots and pans, the Indian ones) that I enjoy eating. I look forward to eating them and when I do eat them, it is slowly (unlike my mom who is a very fast eater speeding up even more if she finds the food tasty), savoring every mouthful, every bite, pleasing all senses -- my tongue lazily rolling the food in my mouth, my nose taking in the inviting smells, my eyes feasting on the colors I love and my ears listening to the relaxing crunch crunch as I chew and swallow the food. I am going to list them here (You never know when "someone" decides to treat me to my perfect dinner on say, Val day or just for the heck of it -- hey! Not hinting. All am saying is, you never know):
My perfect dinner...why dinner? Because the ambience is important for me and dim lighting is an important part of the ambience for me and that means dinner. I am thinking of an Olive Garden sort of setting with pleasant but unfamiliar Italian music in the background and the indistinct murmer of side table conversations but I can adapt to familiar but low volume music in the background, dim lighting right above the dining table right at home (Thank God for dimmers). All this is assuming the dinner is home-cooked. I am not a big fan of take-outs and I don't like eating in the car (Woodlands style) or standing and eating (Saravana Bhavan style).
Let's see now, basics first -- the place has to be clean. Fengshui will tell you that. Clutter kills the moment. Nice, not necessarily fancy but clean and nice plates, bowls and cutlery. I am not a big fan of a multitude of little bowls cluttering my dinner plate. I like mixing foods and eating them, the south Indian style! Colorful table-mats are a plus but not a necessity.
Ok so, that's taken care of. Now, let's move to the main story:
Start with an appetizer. The classic tomato soup of course with home made croutons (Sorry Sandra Lee but home made it is) and a swirl of cream on top like they do it in Palimar in Chennai.
I could do with some fresh salad by the side with Italian dressing but that's something I developed a taste for in the US. Not a must really.
Main course will be a choice...hmm, make that both paav bhaji and south Indian Barota. No, not paratha, not parantha, not naan and not roti. Barota. The way they serve it in Saravana Bhavan -- crispy and fluffy at the same time with golden brown flecks and layers and layers of perfection. Kuruma by the side. Not chola, not random unrecognizable punjabi vegetables with gravy but kuruma. Raitha maybe, not too crazy about it. Maybe if it's a pineapple raitha, then yes, sure!
The paav bhaji should be like...hmm, the ones they serve in the erstwhile Woodlands drive-in in Chennai. Butter glistening on the lightly toasted bhajis with sesame seeds peeping out from them. The tomatoes adding a shocking touch of color to the potato bhaji. Decorated with coriander leaves and a sprinkle of finely cut onions on top.
And then (rubbing hands in glee) dessert! Tiramisu is my current favorite but if I were in Chennai, it would be Sathukudi juice with pulp, freshly squeezed (Saravana bhavan style). I guess if it's the juice, I would like it along with my main course. And finally, casatta icecream. I am not a big fan of fruit salad or chocolate icecream but I like the variety the casatta offers -- Cake in the bottom and multiple colored layers on top, so you are subjected to a surprising variety of flavors as you bite through it. Yum!
If a walk in the beach is possible and time permits, then kulfi! Just the sound of the tinkling bells announcing the kulfi guy is enough to make me jump in glee! It was Rs.2 or was it Rs.3, when I was in Chennai...and the top part of it would always have melted a little bit and I would have to rush and lick it up before I wasted even a precious drop of it...aaaah! Each drop was nectar itself!
So, that's it. I might not make every day's meal a reason for celebration but certain foods by association with pleasant memories and places or just by virtue of their character evoke magic and I am all for making a big deal of that!
And that is true. I don't love food like k's dad for instance or even k. His eyes light up and this huge smile spreads across his face when he discovers that a favorite food awaits him on the dining table. He'll smack his fingers and inhale the rich aroma from the food and let everyone know that he is happy. The way to a man's heart is...and all that.
I, on the other hand, do not make a big deal of it. If I like it, I eat it with relish. If someone else cooked the food, I tell them I liked it and then get on with it. If I don't like it, I serve myself less of that food or avoid it (in the case of green peas). And then food is forgotten and I am thinking about the next 58 items that I need to do before calling it a day.
But, there are a few dishes (not the American "dishes" -- pots and pans, the Indian ones) that I enjoy eating. I look forward to eating them and when I do eat them, it is slowly (unlike my mom who is a very fast eater speeding up even more if she finds the food tasty), savoring every mouthful, every bite, pleasing all senses -- my tongue lazily rolling the food in my mouth, my nose taking in the inviting smells, my eyes feasting on the colors I love and my ears listening to the relaxing crunch crunch as I chew and swallow the food. I am going to list them here (You never know when "someone" decides to treat me to my perfect dinner on say, Val day or just for the heck of it -- hey! Not hinting. All am saying is, you never know):
My perfect dinner...why dinner? Because the ambience is important for me and dim lighting is an important part of the ambience for me and that means dinner. I am thinking of an Olive Garden sort of setting with pleasant but unfamiliar Italian music in the background and the indistinct murmer of side table conversations but I can adapt to familiar but low volume music in the background, dim lighting right above the dining table right at home (Thank God for dimmers). All this is assuming the dinner is home-cooked. I am not a big fan of take-outs and I don't like eating in the car (Woodlands style) or standing and eating (Saravana Bhavan style).
Let's see now, basics first -- the place has to be clean. Fengshui will tell you that. Clutter kills the moment. Nice, not necessarily fancy but clean and nice plates, bowls and cutlery. I am not a big fan of a multitude of little bowls cluttering my dinner plate. I like mixing foods and eating them, the south Indian style! Colorful table-mats are a plus but not a necessity.
Ok so, that's taken care of. Now, let's move to the main story:
Start with an appetizer. The classic tomato soup of course with home made croutons (Sorry Sandra Lee but home made it is) and a swirl of cream on top like they do it in Palimar in Chennai.
I could do with some fresh salad by the side with Italian dressing but that's something I developed a taste for in the US. Not a must really.
Main course will be a choice...hmm, make that both paav bhaji and south Indian Barota. No, not paratha, not parantha, not naan and not roti. Barota. The way they serve it in Saravana Bhavan -- crispy and fluffy at the same time with golden brown flecks and layers and layers of perfection. Kuruma by the side. Not chola, not random unrecognizable punjabi vegetables with gravy but kuruma. Raitha maybe, not too crazy about it. Maybe if it's a pineapple raitha, then yes, sure!
The paav bhaji should be like...hmm, the ones they serve in the erstwhile Woodlands drive-in in Chennai. Butter glistening on the lightly toasted bhajis with sesame seeds peeping out from them. The tomatoes adding a shocking touch of color to the potato bhaji. Decorated with coriander leaves and a sprinkle of finely cut onions on top.
And then (rubbing hands in glee) dessert! Tiramisu is my current favorite but if I were in Chennai, it would be Sathukudi juice with pulp, freshly squeezed (Saravana bhavan style). I guess if it's the juice, I would like it along with my main course. And finally, casatta icecream. I am not a big fan of fruit salad or chocolate icecream but I like the variety the casatta offers -- Cake in the bottom and multiple colored layers on top, so you are subjected to a surprising variety of flavors as you bite through it. Yum!
If a walk in the beach is possible and time permits, then kulfi! Just the sound of the tinkling bells announcing the kulfi guy is enough to make me jump in glee! It was Rs.2 or was it Rs.3, when I was in Chennai...and the top part of it would always have melted a little bit and I would have to rush and lick it up before I wasted even a precious drop of it...aaaah! Each drop was nectar itself!
So, that's it. I might not make every day's meal a reason for celebration but certain foods by association with pleasant memories and places or just by virtue of their character evoke magic and I am all for making a big deal of that!
October 27, 2009
Indulging in trivialities.
Ok head overload. Got to download before head swells to comical size with trivial crap. When in doubt, make a list and so here goes:
* I can't remember where I kept Bridget Jones diary. I probably will pay $1k in fine to my beloved library before I admit that it is indeed lost.
* Keep reading 1 yr olds are supposed to be angels that listen to parents all the time to please, unlike unbearable 2 yr olds. So wrong. They do as they please just like any other human being.
* Have 5 and a 1/2 magazines to finish and 3 novels to read (plus one book I bought off amazon -- You are here by Meenakshi Madhavan) and this includes Bridget Jones Diary which I can't finish 'coz it's AWOL :(
* Can't remember the Chinese (or was it Japanese) way of typing smilies was it * |* or something like that? I must be developing some late postpartum amnesia of some sort.
* Can't decide ending for imaginary novel in head. Should she decide which guy she will choose? Or leave it ambiguous in the belief that reader is smarter than self and will decide a neat ending?
* No ribald jokes or sensuous scenes in novel 'coz self prude. There goes half the readership! What now? I have one and a half reader left?
* In fact reading a novel that I wrote. Ok, Anita Nair wrote it but so much ego boost and inspiration to convince self that novel written by RS. Oooh. Totally loving it so far (The Mistress in case said reader and 1/2 curious.)
* I am too chicken to be SAHM. If you don't know that acronym, don't bother.
* Have always fancied wearing designer glasses and strutting about like high-power career woman or ultra-cool mom but eye doc although super nice and shared stories about high school said eye sight normal.
* I liked heroines in movies. All of them. Lately, I have disliked a few. I must be developing some weird behavioral disorder due to extended lack of sleep.
* Can't believe the only musical I went to in Lex featured a huge red monster singing "The wheels on the bus..."
* Not that bad. I watched quite a few neat plays at Danville. Waiting to take r~...
Ok enough. Head in decent shape now. Singing off to drink more water to reduce weight. Oh...
* Must remember to drink water like normal human beings so can go back to 110 lbs. Mind over matter. If mind can move spoon in that Tom Cruise movie (Amnesia prevents movie name recall) then mind and water can help shed extra 15 lbs.
* Also faith can move mountains and such inspiring thoughts.
Ok gotta go. Artificial thirst in progress.
* I can't remember where I kept Bridget Jones diary. I probably will pay $1k in fine to my beloved library before I admit that it is indeed lost.
* Keep reading 1 yr olds are supposed to be angels that listen to parents all the time to please, unlike unbearable 2 yr olds. So wrong. They do as they please just like any other human being.
* Have 5 and a 1/2 magazines to finish and 3 novels to read (plus one book I bought off amazon -- You are here by Meenakshi Madhavan) and this includes Bridget Jones Diary which I can't finish 'coz it's AWOL :(
* Can't remember the Chinese (or was it Japanese) way of typing smilies was it * |* or something like that? I must be developing some late postpartum amnesia of some sort.
* Can't decide ending for imaginary novel in head. Should she decide which guy she will choose? Or leave it ambiguous in the belief that reader is smarter than self and will decide a neat ending?
* No ribald jokes or sensuous scenes in novel 'coz self prude. There goes half the readership! What now? I have one and a half reader left?
* In fact reading a novel that I wrote. Ok, Anita Nair wrote it but so much ego boost and inspiration to convince self that novel written by RS. Oooh. Totally loving it so far (The Mistress in case said reader and 1/2 curious.)
* I am too chicken to be SAHM. If you don't know that acronym, don't bother.
* Have always fancied wearing designer glasses and strutting about like high-power career woman or ultra-cool mom but eye doc although super nice and shared stories about high school said eye sight normal.
* I liked heroines in movies. All of them. Lately, I have disliked a few. I must be developing some weird behavioral disorder due to extended lack of sleep.
* Can't believe the only musical I went to in Lex featured a huge red monster singing "The wheels on the bus..."
* Not that bad. I watched quite a few neat plays at Danville. Waiting to take r~...
Ok enough. Head in decent shape now. Singing off to drink more water to reduce weight. Oh...
* Must remember to drink water like normal human beings so can go back to 110 lbs. Mind over matter. If mind can move spoon in that Tom Cruise movie (Amnesia prevents movie name recall) then mind and water can help shed extra 15 lbs.
* Also faith can move mountains and such inspiring thoughts.
Ok gotta go. Artificial thirst in progress.
October 21, 2009
Motherhood & Babyville -- a post for women mostly.
(...although will be refreshing if you are a guy and you still want to read the post. 100 words down if you are still reading, man, you rock!)
I recently submitted an article on motherhood for a magazine contest. And I wrote that while motherhood is about sweet gurgles, the pitter-patter of tiny feet and wet sloppy first kisses, it is much more than what the outside world sees. The whole world told me my life was going to change after a baby. There is much truth in that and li'l r~ is now a year old and I don't know if my life is back to normal yet. So, I figured I would alter what normal is so I can get over that issue and carry on with life.
The past two days, I have been dwelling over how being r's mom has transformed me, not just because of the article but also because of this book I read called Babyville. I started off criticizing the book for being superficial but as I continued to read, I could identify bits of myself (albeit very tiny bits at times) in all the three moms in the book. Yes, there was a time (I believe, 4 weeks after r~ was born) when I wondered if I had the famous baby-blues or it's nasty sibling, PPD. 6 months, post-partum when I was still a walking zombie, I wondered if I was making a big mistake by not even considering the Crying-it-out method. After all, happy, sane mom a requisite for happy baby, right? At that time, I didn't quite chalk my walking-dead-routine down to thyroid issues (which is what I would discover later on -- a drastically over-zealous or sluggish thyroid gland and just for fun, keep alternating it so the endoc could never know for sure!)
And now, I am no longer post-partum even by my extended definition (k claims it's 6 weeks, not 1 year!) So, I no longer have a valid excuse for: my 15 extra pounds (I swear, I will sign up for the gym if I cross 125 now; enough is enough!), my lack of energy in the evenings, my most favored costume of the day -- pjs...and so on. I am past the stage where moms with kindly eyes (and the rest of the world, also with kindly eyes :) who have been-there-dunnit inquire about my birth story. I can't slack off in bed saying I am recovering. And soon, when my mom leaves, it's just up to me and k to keep r~ safe, healthy, happy, intellectually-stimulated and the million other things that toddlers need. In reality, they will probably grow up to be perfectly fine, whether or not moms like me stress over which vaccines to delay, which organic baby food to trust, which toy not to buy, how much TV to watch and so on. But stress, I do. I believe it's part of the job-description.
I miss the attention-phase. The phase when a woman is pregnant and people coo and ooh and are super nice to you (That must be how celebrities feel, I guess). And then we sort of melt to the background -- and rightfully! Baby outcutes mom anyday! -- but it's also sort of anti-climactic; suddenly we are moms now who ought to know how to get their act together. The past 1/2 year, I think exactly one of my friends asked me how I felt -- a question that was put to me a million times when I was pregnant. I find it somewhat annoying when people suddenly start addressing me momma. Hello? Not your momma! Like suddenly they can't be bothered to find out your first name. "Momma! Baby will be fine, it's just a little shot!", "Momma, come and sign this paper please!" 'Course am proud am a mother but a mother to my precious, not to every odd person on earth!
And then there's the discussed-to-death family-work balance which does not exist. If you are talking about family-work-imbalance, yes, I believe that is real. When I am at work, I worry about r~ and when am with her, I worry about not making my mark at work. There are a million things I want to be doing every second -- clean the house, organize stuff, cook, write, plan, be an awesome and also very cool mom (very important, repeat "cool mom")...and I feel I don't do justice to most of it.
And being a part of mommyhood also means subtly justifying your choices maybe not all the time but it's bound to crop up sometime or the other in this journey. One child only? Stay at home mom? Day care so early? Every choice invites a comment and it's hard not to justify myself which opens the door for what else? More comments and advice. It's however hard to ignore the advice (which is what am doing currently) when it comes from your obgyn or pediatrician ("7 months and not sleeping through the night?Don't you think she might be getting a bit spoilt guys?"; "It's perfectly alright to let your baby cry when she is in the car seat, stroller, crib or anywhere else in this world. Let her cry -- is the solution to a perfect childhood" -- Ok fine. I made that last line up). One of those parenting magazines I read said, the more you blab, the more advice you are going to get, like it or not. And I am the blabbing type, unfortunately. This reminds me of two starkly contrasting statements I heard while I was pregnant: One of my friends said she felt she achieved something in her life only after her she gave birth to her first child. And another acquaintance said her life was over after her child was born.
And the book brought all this to the forefront (of my already loaded mind). And so, I am currently dwelling on all this and of course I shall dwell some here too. For what's a blog for, if not to output some of your overflowing, repetitive, inane thought processes to? And being a mom means being subjected to an overdose of that whole process.
And no, I am not going to end this post with but it's all worth it because we have a cute baby who makes it all better. It may be worth it but every motherhood article need not necessarily end with that disclaimer just because it highlighted some of the difficulties of being a mother and now it has to make up for it. I will not subject to the mommy-guilt-syndrome. At least, not this once *Sheepish grin*.
What's a mom to do when she has all this going on? Read a chick-lit and chill of course. Which is what am doing currently. Bridget Jones diary, in case you are curious or too lazy to check out my book case on the right. One day r~ will grow up and walk through this space and go, "Mom?! You lost it briefly after me?!" in a delectable American accent!
Oh and now for some fun update, The last laugh will be showcased at the Bangalore book festival! Aarg! I wish I could go. I wish I could go and do a reading or some such cool thing. Look for a stall by pothi if you are there at the exhibition! I wish I could go! If I say it enough times, the powers that be shall make it happen. Didn't you know that?
I recently submitted an article on motherhood for a magazine contest. And I wrote that while motherhood is about sweet gurgles, the pitter-patter of tiny feet and wet sloppy first kisses, it is much more than what the outside world sees. The whole world told me my life was going to change after a baby. There is much truth in that and li'l r~ is now a year old and I don't know if my life is back to normal yet. So, I figured I would alter what normal is so I can get over that issue and carry on with life.
The past two days, I have been dwelling over how being r's mom has transformed me, not just because of the article but also because of this book I read called Babyville. I started off criticizing the book for being superficial but as I continued to read, I could identify bits of myself (albeit very tiny bits at times) in all the three moms in the book. Yes, there was a time (I believe, 4 weeks after r~ was born) when I wondered if I had the famous baby-blues or it's nasty sibling, PPD. 6 months, post-partum when I was still a walking zombie, I wondered if I was making a big mistake by not even considering the Crying-it-out method. After all, happy, sane mom a requisite for happy baby, right? At that time, I didn't quite chalk my walking-dead-routine down to thyroid issues (which is what I would discover later on -- a drastically over-zealous or sluggish thyroid gland and just for fun, keep alternating it so the endoc could never know for sure!)
And now, I am no longer post-partum even by my extended definition (k claims it's 6 weeks, not 1 year!) So, I no longer have a valid excuse for: my 15 extra pounds (I swear, I will sign up for the gym if I cross 125 now; enough is enough!), my lack of energy in the evenings, my most favored costume of the day -- pjs...and so on. I am past the stage where moms with kindly eyes (and the rest of the world, also with kindly eyes :) who have been-there-dunnit inquire about my birth story. I can't slack off in bed saying I am recovering. And soon, when my mom leaves, it's just up to me and k to keep r~ safe, healthy, happy, intellectually-stimulated and the million other things that toddlers need. In reality, they will probably grow up to be perfectly fine, whether or not moms like me stress over which vaccines to delay, which organic baby food to trust, which toy not to buy, how much TV to watch and so on. But stress, I do. I believe it's part of the job-description.
I miss the attention-phase. The phase when a woman is pregnant and people coo and ooh and are super nice to you (That must be how celebrities feel, I guess). And then we sort of melt to the background -- and rightfully! Baby outcutes mom anyday! -- but it's also sort of anti-climactic; suddenly we are moms now who ought to know how to get their act together. The past 1/2 year, I think exactly one of my friends asked me how I felt -- a question that was put to me a million times when I was pregnant. I find it somewhat annoying when people suddenly start addressing me momma. Hello? Not your momma! Like suddenly they can't be bothered to find out your first name. "Momma! Baby will be fine, it's just a little shot!", "Momma, come and sign this paper please!" 'Course am proud am a mother but a mother to my precious, not to every odd person on earth!
And then there's the discussed-to-death family-work balance which does not exist. If you are talking about family-work-imbalance, yes, I believe that is real. When I am at work, I worry about r~ and when am with her, I worry about not making my mark at work. There are a million things I want to be doing every second -- clean the house, organize stuff, cook, write, plan, be an awesome and also very cool mom (very important, repeat "cool mom")...and I feel I don't do justice to most of it.
And being a part of mommyhood also means subtly justifying your choices maybe not all the time but it's bound to crop up sometime or the other in this journey. One child only? Stay at home mom? Day care so early? Every choice invites a comment and it's hard not to justify myself which opens the door for what else? More comments and advice. It's however hard to ignore the advice (which is what am doing currently) when it comes from your obgyn or pediatrician ("7 months and not sleeping through the night?Don't you think she might be getting a bit spoilt guys?"; "It's perfectly alright to let your baby cry when she is in the car seat, stroller, crib or anywhere else in this world. Let her cry -- is the solution to a perfect childhood" -- Ok fine. I made that last line up). One of those parenting magazines I read said, the more you blab, the more advice you are going to get, like it or not. And I am the blabbing type, unfortunately. This reminds me of two starkly contrasting statements I heard while I was pregnant: One of my friends said she felt she achieved something in her life only after her she gave birth to her first child. And another acquaintance said her life was over after her child was born.
And the book brought all this to the forefront (of my already loaded mind). And so, I am currently dwelling on all this and of course I shall dwell some here too. For what's a blog for, if not to output some of your overflowing, repetitive, inane thought processes to? And being a mom means being subjected to an overdose of that whole process.
And no, I am not going to end this post with but it's all worth it because we have a cute baby who makes it all better. It may be worth it but every motherhood article need not necessarily end with that disclaimer just because it highlighted some of the difficulties of being a mother and now it has to make up for it. I will not subject to the mommy-guilt-syndrome. At least, not this once *Sheepish grin*.
What's a mom to do when she has all this going on? Read a chick-lit and chill of course. Which is what am doing currently. Bridget Jones diary, in case you are curious or too lazy to check out my book case on the right. One day r~ will grow up and walk through this space and go, "Mom?! You lost it briefly after me?!" in a delectable American accent!
Oh and now for some fun update, The last laugh will be showcased at the Bangalore book festival! Aarg! I wish I could go. I wish I could go and do a reading or some such cool thing. Look for a stall by pothi if you are there at the exhibition! I wish I could go! If I say it enough times, the powers that be shall make it happen. Didn't you know that?
October 16, 2009
Massages and me.
I had another massage finally. And as with my previous massages, I enjoyed the conversation more than the massage itself. I met three interesting women (masseuses just sounds weird) and each time I decided to break the ice and ask them something, anything. So, I asked them what I was really curious about -- how did they get into this profession? What made them decide to be a masseuse? I met t~ a few months after Radhika was born. She was this delicate little lady, same age as me, with a soft, lilting voice (The accent I would learn is because she is from a village near the erstwhile Russia). She said she used to give her friends massages and she got good feedback from them; she believed in holistic healing and decided to take a course on massaging. We talked about what k would call hippie topics -- vaccinations and why or more importantly why not...cloth diapering, gentle sleep training, returning back to home...I felt mentally refreshed when I left the place.
The second time, I met a slightly older masseuse, Toni. She had a smart hair cut -- that's what I noticed first -- short, grayish hair, intelligent eyes (especially behind those brown rimmed glasses she wore) and when I asked her the same question, she said she had been a nurse for 15 years and wanted a change in career. She met with a career counselor and then decided to study massaging. She told me the career changes she makes keeps her young. Being young is about being adaptive to change...she said something like that.
The third time, I met e~ and she said she was a dancer and a masseuse and her interest was in specializing for massages for dancers. We talked a little bit about my baby, r~ and hers, her dog! That she was going to be a summer bride! That her bridesmaids' dresses were blue and yellow...and most interestingly we talked about a plot for my imaginary novel! We talked about names and how the people in my novel would meet, imaginary scenarios and dramatic characters...
"So, how was the massage?", k asks.
"I had fun!", I say.
He gives me a curious look and sort of shakes his head when I tell him about my latest conversation. I am not one of those people who just cannot live without her regular bi-weekly massage sessions but once in a while, an unexpected, refreshing conversation with a stranger is just the right mental pick-me-up I need!
The second time, I met a slightly older masseuse, Toni. She had a smart hair cut -- that's what I noticed first -- short, grayish hair, intelligent eyes (especially behind those brown rimmed glasses she wore) and when I asked her the same question, she said she had been a nurse for 15 years and wanted a change in career. She met with a career counselor and then decided to study massaging. She told me the career changes she makes keeps her young. Being young is about being adaptive to change...she said something like that.
The third time, I met e~ and she said she was a dancer and a masseuse and her interest was in specializing for massages for dancers. We talked a little bit about my baby, r~ and hers, her dog! That she was going to be a summer bride! That her bridesmaids' dresses were blue and yellow...and most interestingly we talked about a plot for my imaginary novel! We talked about names and how the people in my novel would meet, imaginary scenarios and dramatic characters...
"So, how was the massage?", k asks.
"I had fun!", I say.
He gives me a curious look and sort of shakes his head when I tell him about my latest conversation. I am not one of those people who just cannot live without her regular bi-weekly massage sessions but once in a while, an unexpected, refreshing conversation with a stranger is just the right mental pick-me-up I need!
September 24, 2009
Kids and all
I read yet another article on kids and what happens to your life after kids. And I was again startled to read a blanket statement that went something like, "People are unhappier with kids. They even admit it most times but always end with a disclaimer that states they wouldn't have it any other way; their lives are so much enriched with kids...blah". Now, this is startling for a number of reasons. Unhappy and kids? That's a very unlikely marriage. I can imagine couples being unhappy in their marriages but unhappy with kids? That's a stretch if you ask me. If kids make you unhappy, then I guess your requirements for happiness perhaps need a second draft, something more realistic and attainable?
Why does this irk me, you ask? For the obvious reason that I now have a kid and understand the pains and struggles that face parenthood, like an unending ocean of waves, crashing one after another. So, when someone comes along with this fancy statistic relating kids and unhappiness, it gets on my nerves. Why? Maybe because I am going through the experience right now and trying to stay on top of it and reading un-optimistic opinions like this makes my life seem that much harder. Maybe, I like reading material that helps reinforce my belief in my choices? Or maybe, equating kids and unhappiness seems just plain biased to me. Kids and stress. Kids and financial strains. Kids and lack of sleep. Agreed. Kids and unhappiness seems like there is some other root cause that is just convenient to transfer to kids and blame them for it.
On a somewhat related note, maybe there is some truth to the observation that more choices is just more stress for people. Life is really simpler when your choices are few. The problem with multiple choices is it offers you a variety of ways you can live your life and then it's all about defending your choices -- the kids you had or did not have, the career you have or do not have, the house you bought or did not buy. Through seemingly unrelated conversations, the subtle defense for your choices seeps through somehow. So, you find yourself justifying to others and yourself how your choices make a whole bunch of sense. I find this somewhat annoying especially when the choices people have made are quite different from mine and for that very reason maybe they find an urge to sneak in a statement validating their choices. Anyhow, that's how people are and possibly, I do that too inadvertently. So peace.
Aaah. So, am doing the single parent thingie for a week. Let's see how that goes. *Someone* is not going to be greeted by a pleasant face when he returns from his business trip if r~ keeps me sleep-deprived all week long :p
Stay tuned.
Why does this irk me, you ask? For the obvious reason that I now have a kid and understand the pains and struggles that face parenthood, like an unending ocean of waves, crashing one after another. So, when someone comes along with this fancy statistic relating kids and unhappiness, it gets on my nerves. Why? Maybe because I am going through the experience right now and trying to stay on top of it and reading un-optimistic opinions like this makes my life seem that much harder. Maybe, I like reading material that helps reinforce my belief in my choices? Or maybe, equating kids and unhappiness seems just plain biased to me. Kids and stress. Kids and financial strains. Kids and lack of sleep. Agreed. Kids and unhappiness seems like there is some other root cause that is just convenient to transfer to kids and blame them for it.
On a somewhat related note, maybe there is some truth to the observation that more choices is just more stress for people. Life is really simpler when your choices are few. The problem with multiple choices is it offers you a variety of ways you can live your life and then it's all about defending your choices -- the kids you had or did not have, the career you have or do not have, the house you bought or did not buy. Through seemingly unrelated conversations, the subtle defense for your choices seeps through somehow. So, you find yourself justifying to others and yourself how your choices make a whole bunch of sense. I find this somewhat annoying especially when the choices people have made are quite different from mine and for that very reason maybe they find an urge to sneak in a statement validating their choices. Anyhow, that's how people are and possibly, I do that too inadvertently. So peace.
Aaah. So, am doing the single parent thingie for a week. Let's see how that goes. *Someone* is not going to be greeted by a pleasant face when he returns from his business trip if r~ keeps me sleep-deprived all week long :p
Stay tuned.
September 11, 2009
Amul butter anyone?
After a couple of years, I decided to tag along with k and r~ to Sagar India Market to buy Indian groceries. Nothing much had changed but I did find this extremely inviting package of Amul butter beckoning to me from behind the frosty freezer door. Today, I unwrapped the package and took a big chunk of butter which I confess I ate "apadiye" (Was it the horlicks ad that went, "Appadiye saapiduven"?), no bread, no crackers, just utterly, butterly delicious Amul butter. It was all that it promised to be!
Not that I needed an excuse or anything but then I started thinking of India. The other day, I was talking to k about my evergreen topic, India vs America, the one that my dad and I always end with, "Ok, let's agree to disagree on this". I told k that somewhere in the back of my mind, there is always this thin veil of insecurity that reminds me that am not in my home country. I love America and am grateful for the life we have here, but am certain somewhere not easily accessible is this little anxious voice that cautions me to be careful and I think that voice will not be quietened by a green card or a citizenship card. That voice is here to stay.
Maybe, it's because the life we have here is what we built from scratch. Aside from a handful of close friends and a wider circle of just friends, we don't have a solid base with close people milling around us to help us if we need help. Our foundation is still new, stable but new. Maybe r~ would feel otherwise because we would have built the base on which she will build her life. She has a backup. What do we have? There are channels here, "aid" available if needed, organized care but it is not personal, it is...indifferent and that worries me.
Life throws many curve balls at us and I guess, I am trying to handle one now that has me wondering if r2i is the only sane, only safe decision there is for us. But, I guess I have gone through pretty momentous occasions here in this country and am stronger for each experience and a bit more confident. So, maybe life here is worth a shot and is the right way to go...who knows?
There is a reason for everything and I bet there is an overwhelming reason for my choice. I just have to figure it out.
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