A new life.

I guess giving birth is like being reborn. I am trying to recall what I used to write about here. Whoever said having two kids is not too different from having one either has only one kid or is delusional with lack of sleep. Say hi everyone to baby m~!

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As it was with r~, measuring time with little milestones -- first time I could walk after surgery, first time she smiled (gas or no gas), first time I wore something nice after the delivery, first time k and I watched a TV show after delivery...every little thing is a milestone, a small celebration that we survived and are bravely marching along :)

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Weird what thoughts float through our heads those first few moments, minutes, days after the baby is born -- when I heard her cry the first time and saw her for the first time, I thought, 'Gosh! I could do this again. Maybe we should have another kid!'

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Didn't realize I would spend so much time worrying if I am giving r~ enough attention. I assumed most of my energy would be spent taking care of baby m~. Boy! Was I wrong! Half the time, I am screaming at r~ (who is a big girl now, all of 4 years old) to not touch m~'s hands because she hasn't sanitized her hands yet and has a runny nose and is just back from school (which we all know is there to spread germs and education). The other half of the time, I am tiring myself physically doing crafts with her to make up for all the time am not spending with her and to make up for my guilt for the earlier screaming session. The first few days after I was home, my baby blues (tears) were mostly about r~...didn't expect that.

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Thank God for supportive husbands.

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And supportive moms.

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I am so happy I sent chocolate covered berries and a sweet card to the hospital staff. I love thank you cards and birthday cards and miss you cards...you get the picture. No wonder I love thanksgiving speaking of which, this card r~ made at school was touching:

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After all the drama of home birthing, 3 day labor, ER visit and blood loss last time with my delivery, this time was almost a non-event. Felt unreal to not go through labor and give birth. I missed laboring -- something empowering about beating it and coming out of it alive (and now I have officially lost it, I guess).

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Addicted to Parenthood.

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1 year of no TV and still counting.

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r~ is mischievous to a point where we get complaints from her school teachers about her naughtiness. Always embarrassing to get lectured about your kid; thought we were done with being lectured when I graduated from college.

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Is anyone still reading this blog? Hellooo?

---:)---

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India - Days 7 & 8

Today for a change we went to Guindy National Park. We probably covered 1/4th of the park and then got too tired and sweaty and so called it a day. The park is well maintained and can probably take up several hours if you plan well and wish to cover the entire park. r~ saw deer, snakes, porcupines, birds of Vedanthangal, monkeys, fish and even got to go on a swing. I didn't realize Guindy National Park was the hangout for couples until today. Everywhere I turned, I saw lovey-dovey pairs hugging, sitting next to each other and just smiling for nothing, staring into each other's eyes...you get the picture. Maybe this is where they enjoy some togetherness while also checking out some wild life!

~*~*~*

I always complain about the dresses that my parents send for r~ and me. They are always too tight, too loose, too shirt -- something is always off. Today I discovered the reason for the continuity in the pattern. My dad took me to our "family tailor" -- an old old man stared at me through thick glasses from behind the tailoring machine. He had one lone assistant in a small shop in Mylapore. After my dad repeated what he said twice, he took note of us, nodded and took the dresses from my dad (to be altered). I guess he is the "aagivandha tailor" and so we stick to him. At least he is better than K.R.Dressers who said he was busy and needed a minimum of 1.5 months to stitch stuff.

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We ate at Sangeetha's today. I don't know if I would have noticed this if I hadn't left India and returned but I definitely found some unsafe areas there. The restroom was completely wet and when I stepped out, I lost my balance a couple of times on the smooth restaurant floor (and this was with me carrying r~). The other day at a jewelry store, they had a full length mirror on what looked like a wall and when I stood in front of it, a man suddenly rushed out of what happened to be a door with a mirror on the outside. I noticed the small handle on the door later. If I hadn't moved in time, it would have been a classic Tom and Jerry scene with an RS shaped mark in the mirror :p

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Am overeating everyday! Today's menu was biriyani, raitha, crisp alu curry in the afternoon; thayir vada, paniyaaram, idiyaapam and filter coffee for tiffin and paav bhaji and curd rice and pulikachal for dinner. I keep thinking my dance classes will balance out the extra calories but it is looking pretty doubtful now.

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r~ is getting so much attention from her thatha-paati, I don't know how I am going to compensate for that back in the US. Plus she has the maid and the cook to entertain her, the driver and the watchman play small games with her. People people everywhere...what is a mom to do?

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I went to AVM sound zone in Alwarpet. Seemed like a nice store that I wish I had more time to browse in...I need to go to Spencers before I travel to Bombay...can't do a Madras visit without setting foot in Spencers!

~*~*~*

Everyone seems to be into cleanliness here. Every store I visit has someone sweeping the place with a broom -- Outside Apollo hospital, the jewelry store, Shanthi tailors, Nageswara Rao park, inside Sangeetha restaurant!

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Conversation with thatha.

Of late, I have been thinking about my grandfather and grandmother -- how my life perhaps would have been different, richer if I had had the opportunity to interact with them. Whenever mom tells me a story about thatha, my mind conjures up images of a well-built, handsome, somewhat daunting man with a volatile temper and a demure, intelligent (not the bookish sense which I fear is the only kind that I possess) wife.

Colorful scenes from his past flow like cool satin (don't ask me why I thought of satin, that's just what came to my mind -- satin and silk waving kisses in a cool breeze) when I think of my thatha -- his life as a teacher in Colombo, his love for his mother, yet another colorful character...a rather portly lady who had great sense of humor, tremendous spiritual powers and a unique (in that time) fondness for her daughter-in-law, his photographic memory for books and details, his powerful, cursive handwriting...in all a lofty image of a lofty man (in the good sense) that I unfortunately never met.

I have this secret (hah!) wish to write a book about my maternal grandparents. Nope, it will never be a best seller but it will possibly be the most satisfying piece of writing that my pen has ever produced. Because it will let me put myself in their lives and be a part of it...

Most of the stories I found interesting occurred in a place I have never seen -- Colombo. They were stories of a life I have never been exposed to...when you lived under a hostile government that had declared that "Non-nationalists must quit!". My thatha earned well as a professor but only a part of the money reached his large family of a wife and 8 children. Mom says he was a master of the English language. Poems, quotations, words were a part of his regular conversations...I have never met a person in my life who could do that -- recall an appropriate text from a classic literary piece or a poem to quote at the right time! Mom says thatha did not leave behind money for his children but something a lot more precious -- the blessings and power of his prayers.

My paatti was as different from him as could be. She was an intelligent student who stopped studying past the fifth grade to get married. Thatha decided to marry her soon as he met her...brother! A lively, handsome young man who died young :( This brings to my mind the image of the first child that my grandparents lost -- Samanthaka mani. She was to be their most intelligent child if she hadn't passed away at the age of three. How weird that I feel sad for an aunt that I never met...an aunt I wish I had met, will maybe meet if not in this lifetime, in some other one?

So many stories, so many memories I try to make my own...where are you now, thatha? Are you reading this now? My silly little words struggling to convey what they set out to convey?

I set out to write down a make-believe conversation between you and me but it turned out to be something else. The make-believe world is powerful, isn't it? No wonder children amuse themselves endlessly in their make-believe worlds -- where dreams come true, where it's possible to experience what real-life fails to deliver...and this is my make-believe world, thatha. Not entirely. But, at times like this, when real life fades, this world is what keeps me going.

Here is what I read last from your letters to my mom,

"...In other words, I am preparing for my "Last journey",

"Our little systems have their day
They have their day and cease to be
They are but broken lights of thee
But thou my lord, are more than they"

In memoriam (Tennyson)

Reply soon..."

Yes...reply soon, thatha...

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