Just...thoughts.

Once in a while, I scramble to organize my thoughts into a meaningful post and those times, I just find it easier to write down a list of random thoughts and questions from my head because then, they have had their moment of 'notice' and then they can exit gracefully or stay behind for more conversation. So, here goes:

அ I am always caught by surprise by people who don't tend to be as inclusive as I am. I am using the term 'inclusive' very loosely here to mean including all kinds of people (no, not talking about racial bias here). If I were arranging a get-together at home and an acquaintance showed even a little bit of interest, I would have already handed out the invitation to her -- to me, the more the merrier is true in most cases. But, a lot of people, I am learning, tend to be cautious inviting people into their groups. I don't know if it has to do with insecurity or a basic lack of interest in reaching out to new people or just plain laziness. Perhaps there are other reasons -- I don't know because I can't read their minds. All I see is the wall.

ஆ And continuing the same thought, I can't think highly of people who don't have the courtesy to respond to my time with theirs. If I send you an email (nope, not talking about a forwarded joke sent to a group of 80 people), I expect you to show me the courtesy of a response. If you can't spend the few minutes it takes to respond to my email, phone call or invitation (nope, not talking about edge cases and personal crises here), then I don't really have time to be your friend.

இ If you notice people carefully, you can at least get the gist of what's going on in their heads, sometimes :p The other day, I was at r~'s school talking to her teacher. She smiled and talked and smiled and talked for about 15 minutes and it was almost time for us (the parents) to leave when I mentioned I had a few questions to ask. And then I watched the smile slowly recede from the corners of her face to somewhere midway and it stood there frozen. She didn't really have time for questions, it said. And she says, "Yes, sure" and I try to speak through the disconnect staring me at my face. Has that ever happened to you?

ஈ I feel like doing a million things at once. Even as I am doing a few of the million things, I think of a few more things to do to make sure it says an even million.

உI cut my hair shorter thinking it will be lesser work and maintenance. It's more. Now, I get to spend 5 minutes straightening the fuzzy ball of hair that surrounds my face, no gravity to pull it down (always wondering if I will end up like Joe from Little Women). And before you know it, I'll be one of those women spending 15 minutes every morning wearing makeup. Ha! Caught you -- that never happening!

ஊ I read a beautiful book yesterday -- The help by Kathryn Stockett Glad to have read a book that made me cry. How can you be glad at something that makes you cry?

எ Earlier, I missed India. Now, I miss India and my friends in Lex. Does that mean I miss India less since some of my 'missing' quota is taken up by Lex? I don't really miss anything else about Lex and I would really miss the food and the events in Atlanta if I were to move back, does that mean  I should subtract some from my overall 'missing' quota? Can there be a quota for 'missing'? Does it become 0? Ever?

ஏ There was this girl I know who teased me with this boy I know and then married that boy. Is that weird? I have always thought that was a weird thing to do. Maybe all the teasing made her realize she would rather be the teasee than the teaser.

ஐ And talking about that girl reminds me of how I cannot be comfortable in the presence of some people. Usually these are the people k terms, 'street-smart'. But, he claims he is 'street-smart'. Either he isn't or my tolerance has improved. I doubt it's the latter. Sometimes, I think 'street-smart' has 'cunning' and 'suspicious' for siblings.

ஒ And being suspicious of people's intentions all the time makes me exhausted. I have always taken people's statements as true and well-intentioned. Double guessing their intentions is not something I like to do. I am told I need to do that to be 'street-smart'. Yeah, I think I'll just stay naive. Thank you.

ஓ What happened to good comedy in Tamil movies? You know, like the Kadhai scene in Kadhalikka Neramillai or 'Rasam vechaa porum' by Nagesh in Galaata Kalyanam?

ஔ If you work in India, can you have garam chai at 4 PM and a samosa or two?

ஃ Ok, I need that garam chai now. Heading home. Have a good day, dear reader!

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On architecting...life

I am a planner. I plan parties, get-togethers, gifts and just about everything and put in a lot of energy and time into it. I like doing that. I liked planning and preparing for the arangetram, the job change, the city change...the life change. But sometimes, I feel like I should take a break and just experience life the way it is. Without the looking ahead and the constant churning to shape the future course of events.

K often points out that even before he has completed a chore, I am on to the next one, planning what needs to be completed next. And he is right. I am uncomfortable being complacent. I understand complacency is different from being at peace and I can do the latter without bringing in stagnation in my life. But, I find it hard to draw a line between the two. Sometimes, I have to consciously tell myself to enjoy this moment, this point in space that I am at, that I seemingly architected but probably had more to do with powers higher than me and words difficult to comprehend like destiny and the universe. But, I like to think I had something to do with it because it makes me feel a little bit more secure in this world of uncertainties.

I have no idea what tomorrow will bring but I can pretend to choreograph a part of it to my liking because well, that is all I can do. If that pretense of control leaves my hand, then I am vulnerable and I don't necessarily want that realization dawning bright and clear on me -- as long as it's somewhere in the back of my mind, that's fine and I can continue to plan and architect my life. In little ways that are important to me. Now, if only I can add the taking-a-few-minutes-to-smell-the-flowers bit...

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2011: Being myself.

When I was in school, I wanted to be like Radha Lakshmi, sometimes like this other girl Usha-something. At Bits, I wanted to be like other girls I saw -- mainly the confident ones who probably were just like me but just me minus the lack of confidence. And I am now a mom and I still wish to be like other women sometimes. Some, because I think they are just cooler and more fun to hang out with, some for their fearlessness, some for their ability to gel with all kinds of people, some for their accomplishments. But, the more I achieve, the more I want to be these other people and that doesn't give me a break. I don't look back and give myself a pat on the back ever for anything. It's always, now that that's over, what next? I didn't congratulate myself even for the home birthing attempt and tough stint at the hospital for r~. Only, when I saw the note that k had sent me, several days later, did I realize that it had been a difficult time, it was okay to acknowledge that for a second and not worry about the baby and, I had actually done a pretty good job bringing r~ into this world :p

Anyhow, 2011 is going to be me being myself. I am going (to try) to be myself and appreciate what I am and what I have. 2012 can be about being a better mom, better dancer, better wife, better blogger :p 2011 is just going to be to breathe deeply and stay still and be me. The closet is organized, the toys are picked up (or maybe not), the laundry can stay awhile in the washer but it's ok to sit back and watch "Outsourced" :) Really, it is. The show is fun and I deserve the break just for being myself.

Bring on 2011 and let me be me, for a change!

Happy new year to you all! Peace and Love.

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Me, me, me.

I suppose this post should come with a disclaimer of some sort so it seems acceptable to all people but I am going to skip the formalities because...ah well, I just can't be bothered. My pollen infested allergy-eyes can barely see the main content leave alone peripheral niceties.

So, I suppose I am still a new comer to this country and in a way, I am still learning the workings of the society and the way the system works here. One small aspect of the whole culture here that I am still getting used to is American weddings. Like George Lopez says to his wife, "Face it. This is not about you!" when he tries to calm an anxious bride whose wedding he is planning ("You are the most beautiful bride I have seen!"). I guess that lady in that episode (She is that famous desperate housewives babe whose name I can't recall) is who I am writing about today.

Yes, the day has to be perfect. Yes, it's magical and a match made in heaven no doubt. But really, to what extent should this blessed day be morphed to match an imagined, perfect wedding day, roses and doves and all?

I guess it strikes me as strange partly because of my background as an Indian. Our weddings are mostly about our parents. Friends and relatives of our parents throng our weddings while our parents stand proudly next to us and introduce countless faces that blur in front of our eyes (The sweat that pours from our over made up foreheads because of the glaring bright spot lights on us as we stand on the stage could be part of the issue). It is a big day for them. We, the bride and the groom are the cynosure of all eyes but in all, it is a bigger day for our parents.

Compared to that, here the day is about the bride and the groom only and mostly about the bride only. The focus is on love and romance and it should be but it also is on what one woman considers her dream day should be like. Down to the colors that border the trim of the bridesmaid's dress. It becomes more about the dress and the decorations and everything material...and how much a planner can match these expectations.

I guess I don't really have that much insight into an American wedding up, close and personal but at least that's what I see from popular television here. I guess in a way it's fun for the bride. It's the day she's dreamed of since she was a little kid (I guess Indian girls dream of getting into IIT when they're 5 :p)...but something strikes me as just off with this setting. Blame it on my brown upbringing...but I tell it like I see it, I guess.

Maybe I am just jealous because I didn't get a day of my own that I could construct bit by bit and watch unfold on D day (I doubt it)...but, who knows? There's more I want to say about this but can't sit out here any more...be back when the season changes. Accchhhhhooo!

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Apppy...

That's how r~ says "Happy" when the "Happy Birthday" song plays on TV. When I turned 30, I acted like the typical drama queen -- resisting, reminiscing, wondering how this chunk of my life would turn out. But the big three-oh turned out to be fine mostly and in addition to a little love bundle in my arms, I managed to get a book out there. Check, check (as Monica would say). And now, I am at that crossroads again wondering what this year will bring. A published novel would be nice. It would be reaaallly nice. And then I would be one of those cool moms who could claim that they took care of their baby while working from home on something they were passionate about. But, I am not that mom now. I am just a mom who is turning a year older who is dreaming big dreams while her little one continues to throw delightful little challenges her way and melt her heart with her love (I could talk a lot more about r~ but I'll reserve that for my secret mommy blog ;)

One of these years, I am going to approach a birthday thinking Ok, I am there. This is where I wanted to be and this is where I am. 35. Yup, that sounds about right. 35 is going to be the year when I am going to breathe a sigh of peace and just be.

Anyway for now, k has threatened to buy me a complicated piece of technology for my birthday.

"But, I don't want that whatever-you-call-it. I want you to find a publisher."

"You didn't give me anything expensive for Valentines day..." (k attempts to imitate the inverted sad "U" that r~ makes with her mouth), "Just this, this...."

He is staring at the card that r~ and I made for him. It's a print of her hand with three little hearts drawn on it.

"Don't say the wrong thing..."

"This...priceless card." And then he seems lost for words.

Yup, can't go wrong when baby helps make a card for dear husband :)

"Anyway", he continues, "This will help you get there..." (now pointing to the amazon page touting the product).

"I don't want that thingamajigi. It will make me feel more guilty for having spent money towards writing and not succeeding. Why can't you find a publisher for me?"

"'Coz that's hard. Almost impossible."

Retracts statement quickly after catching my expression, "Well, not impossible. But very very hard...umm...somewhat hard? Look, why don't you check out what I am buying for you?"

Still sulking, "Other husbands support their wives' dreams."

But by now, I have lost him. He is excitedly reading about the thingie that he is going to buy that can convert my voice to text.

Oh well, at least I have a ring now.

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The ringless situation.

So, I've been asking k for a new ring with my birthstone in it ever since my old one got yucky and gave my ring finger a weird looking wrinkle. He has tried all techniques that husbands employ -- agreeing and then pretending that he forgot, plain dilly-dallying, pretending to focus on blank spot with more intensity, changing the topic to li'l r (This is a good one, I fall for it almost all the time), asking me about myself or my blogs (This one works well too), throwing in random related questions, "Yeah, you think we should check out the rings in the mall?" and then, "What's for dinner?" He is too smart to refuse because he knows the consequences of said refusal but at this point I am weary and annoyed that my delicate ring finger still does not sport a glittering sapphire (or whatever my birth stone is) ring shining with the promised love of our marriage. And so, I tried a different tactic the other night:

"Where's my ring?"

"It's coming honey."

"I don't want it."

"Why? The ring is slowly on its way."

"Don't want it."

At this point, the conversation sort of petered out and wanting to prove my point, I add "Because if you buy me the ring, I will refuse to accept it. I suppose for that purpose, I would need a ring."

Looks confused, "Okay..."

"Because, I have my ego and my ring-less finger has waited long enough."

Confused look replaced my faint ray of comprehension but then goes back to looking confused again.

"Because..." At this point, I have run out of becauses, however would like to continue conversation so said ring finds its place on my ring-less finger.

"Because, there is no love left in our marriage."

"Huh?" I admit some genuine bafflement crossed his face but he was not very forthcoming.

"I don't want the ring."

And then to emphatically state what was on my mind, I add "I don't want the ring."

So anyway, am waiting for the ring since Val day is around the corner and k is sorta predictable that way. I need to prepare my rejection speech for the ring (unless of course it's a really really cute ring).

Arrrg. Why can't I be the type of girl that excitedly pointed to the ring she adored and shared it with an equally delighted girl-friend. And then k would contact said girl-friend without my knowledge, get said ring in the right size (and he would know the size because he would have secretly taken my engagement ring along with him), have it gift-wrapped in a lovely shiny white box with a little pink bow on top and then tada! You get the picture?

Man in black suit, white box in hand, down on one knee...ending with, "I can't accept this ring. The ring acceptance time has expired!"



I am not saying it has to be this ring, just saying (I swear I didn't pick it up just because it is insanely expensive and that is a fitting revenge, I really liked it)...

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Little RS.

What is the deal with my memory? The only solid memory I have of my early childhood (defined as 0-5 years) is my Tamil teacher at Bain school holding my notebook up to the class, "Enna muthu mutha ezhudirukaa parunga!" (Handwriting like neat pearls...) and then behind the notebook she gives me one of her trademark looks and whispers, "Note cover podu!" (Wrap your notebook with cover! You know...that brown paper cover and label?)

And that's it -- the sum total of my earlier memories. What is wrong with me?!!!! My bro, L~ can remember what he cooed when he was 6 months old (Ok, that's an exaggeration but really he remembers EVERYTHING!), my mom remembers stuff clearly from when she was five years old, dad remembers swimming in the village pond and all that good stuff from his childhood. Why am I the odd one out?

I wonder if it's like some sort of weird first child genetic defect but that theory fails since my eldest perimma has an awesome memory too. I don't really know if my dad's elder brother has a good memory but I am willing to bet he does and anyway this genetic stuff comes from the mom's side mostly right (You gotta assume some stuff to prove a theory!)?

My next memory is of being extremely traumatized when we shifted to Bangalore. I would cry for days looking at the Kannada speaking newscaster and miss our dear old Shobana Ravi. I remember this really old Kannada cook/maid we had who was there more for company than any real work! I remember my cousins turning up at B'lore to spend the summer vacation with us.

And then my next memory is my Kannada teacher "helping me out" in a class test which made me feel extremely uncomfortable and she helped me out because she is also my tuition teacher. She taught her son and me together. That was when I was say 10 years old.

I remember feeling thrilled when dad announced we would be moving back to Madras! I remember mom helping me out with my Tamil Bharatiyar essay (I insisted on taking Tamil as my third language) and I remember I came first in Tamil -- yay!

So anyway, back to the original topic -- what is the deal with my head? Where are all the older thoughts and images? Is my head doing some sanity garbage collecting stuff to prevent overloading? Maybe I am thinking too many thoughts and there's only so much your brain can hold alongside memories. Do thoughts and memories actually compete for brain space? Maybe all that theory about us using like a 0.00056 % of our actual brain capacity is not applicable in my case -- where #thoughts increase exponentially with time. In any case, I am quite upset about the whole deal. It's like I lived a whole life, ok a whole 10-15% of my life without my knowledge. Was I a happy child? Who were the people around me? What actually happened?

So yeah. If you knew me when I was anywhere between 0 - 10, please do tell me. What was I like? Did I love popsicles just like r~? Was I mischievous? Charming? Obnoxious? Pretty? Mom tells me a bunch of stories about how I was as a kid but that's not really a first person account, you know? So, I reckon, if I get a sum-total of all my childhood stories from people, I can get an over-all picture of who I was as a little person.

For now, going to be in angst until next birth.

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The road to independence.

Sometimes, I think I am in the wrong place. I suppose I could attribute this to my laziness too but I won't do that. Instead, I'll proceed assuming I am right.

"This" is a place that values independence and privacy. That's great, extremely cool especially when you want to tune out the blah..blahs of well-meaning people who want to improve your lives. But then, unlike k, I never really had much of a problem with "well meaning advice" from folks. I like to ask people for their opinions and even if they happen to offer it when I didn't ask for it, it's not too much of a big deal (Unless of course, you are living with me and forcing me to follow your advice which doesn't happen often anyway).

But, "this" is also a place where they expect you to drive alone to the grocery store when it's freezing outside and you are an octogenarian! Ok, I admit. India also is not full of youngsters rushing out to do the shopping for their aging grandparents. But, at least in India, you can afford it (Yes, there are poor people in India, really really poor people but this post is not about them) and it's not so cold (Ok fine, silly point, I can move to Florida but I won't, so there!)

"This" is a place where a mom drives her few weeks old baby alone for a doctor's appointment (No comforting grandma in the backseat regaling the child with stories of "When your mom was little..." or cute Tamil baby songs). The baby is probably screaming in the back facing car-seat and the mom has no option but to drive. There are moms that do that here and look competent and unfrazzled. Not me! I don't think I have it in me to take Radhika alone to a doc's appointment (at least when she was little and she would do those scary, purple-faced, breathless cries!)

And then there are the small things -- the devil of the matter! The whole DIY culture! I just am not a part of it! I find it hard to take the trash outside -- no, not because I am lazy but because it's icy outside, the trash is heavy and it has to be lifted outside to dump. Not an easy task for a muscle-challenged woman like me! Then, there are the regular household maintenance stuff -- a leaky faucet, an un-mowed lawn, an un-caulked hole leaking cold air, a broken storm door; a million small worries that can't be fixed by me! Yes, I can take a wood-working course and I can learn to repair the faucet but it's tedious and tiresome and I just don't have the energy to learn that and then attempt to fix it or even to nag k for the nth time get it done. I can call Benjamin Franklin each time to fix the flush but that costs a nice $150!

And then there are the weird unknown places to drive to -- for doctor's appointments, for your children's classes, for stuff to buy! I am not a big fan of driving but I manage pretty decently somehow except when one of these adventure routes crop up and then I have lost all ability to navigate and drive! Add a baby in this mix and I am one lost and dependent woman. I mean, I can't just park by the side when I am driving on New Circle road and wave down the nearest dude to ask for directions while Rads sits happily talking to herself in the back-seat (Ha haa!), can I? Seriously, where are the affordable auto rickshaws when you need them? (Yes admittedly, they do take their shares of U-turns and Rs.200 over the meter but they take you where you need to go and in the end that's all matters.)

It's like the more I make myself independent -- learn to drive, learn to drive with Rads (Yes, big difference!), learn to hang a photo frame(!), the more they creep up all around me and the more dependent I seem to become!

So, I'll say it. I like being an independent woman in some respects. That's a highly qualified declaration. If being an independent woman here means to seal your garage so your bedroom right above it doesn't feel like it's in Iceland then no, I really don't want to be that woman spending 3 hours with pink foam, sticking it patiently to the garage shutter (which incidentally is what k did). If being independent means wearing rugged overalls and roaming around with a heavy hammer and a set of 18 different screws, nope, not me. I know where the turn-off valve is for our water supply and there ends my knowledge of faucet problems!

I can give birth, take care of baby, code, cook, clean the house, dance and write but there ends my level of independence. In that respect, I suppose I am a traditional Indian woman, aren't I? The million other things that this place expects an independent woman to do, I can't or really just don't want to. So, am I just a h4 visa :p?

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House wife? Home maker? SAHM and all that.

My friend, b~, tells me I like to go around in circles, analyzing and re-analyzing an issue ad nauseum (Well, he didn't use those words exactly but in essence this is what he meant). I suppose my life goes in circles sometimes where a relevant issue keeps occupying mental space and rising up to the occasion to shine every now and then and going back to oblivion (like r2i). The current issue being whether I want to be an SAHM.

Unlike in France or in Australia or even India (6 months maternity leave I hear), America has deigned that 6 weeks is all a mom needs to bond and nurture her child before bounding back to work in a size-6 outfit refreshed and re-energized from her nice long break. Ok fine, sarcasm doesn't lend itself to my writing but you get my point?

What's the big deal? Give up your job and quit whining, you want to say. But, you are nice too and probably won't say this to my face but this probably crosses your mind while you wonder how to phrase it all nicely. Somehow, that decision is not easy. There is the house with the mortgage, the parents back in India, the child's college education to cover, emergency funds and America's obsession -- the retirement funds. Even if you can manage to ignore the financial aspect of the choice, consider the woman who decides to stay back home to bring up her child. Does society treat her as it treats a working woman? "Oh, she is just a house wife" has probably improved to "She is a SAHM" but come on! Stay-at-home-mom? Work-your-ass-off-mom is more like it. I stayed back six months at home (unpaid of course), so I know what an SAHM does. Like I read somewhere, it's the most under-valued job in the world and probably the only job which inspite of being immensely challenging has no perks -- no vacation, no recognition; I won't add no-money to that list because the satisfaction that a mom gets by staying back and taking care of her kid at home cannot ever be matched by $$.

But assume, you did go back to work like me, now there is the whole relative grading at work to consider. Obviously, no business is going to give you high marks for taking time off for baby. And so you got to work your way up the ladder again (if you so choose to do) and convince your boss that yes, this brain somehow can manage to hold much more than just baby-thoughts. Thank you. I wonder how woman executives reached where they did? What suffered, I wonder...the child? The marriage? Her health? Because you know...something's gotta give!

And so, I had my argument points ready and thus armed, I confronted k. But I am no match when it comes to crunching numbers with him and so forty-five minutes later with my head reeling with facts and figures about expenses and risks, I admited defeat, at least for the present.

And so the nanny interviews continue...and I suppose I am an SAWM for now (because seriously, compared to parenting, anyone can dish out a few kilobytes of code. No offense meant -- And I say that because long back in another world, I lost a friend because I argued with her when she said, "My mom is just a house wife, what does she know?" to which I suppose I should not have responded, "Just because you are doing your Ph.d doesn't mean..." or maybe that was the right thing to say because that's exactly what I thought...whatever, old stories, old lessons).

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Being grateful.

L~ sent me a link a few months ago about this blog which is about three things that the blogger is grateful for everyday. So, a new post a day each of which describes why the blogger is thankful for something in her life. And I filed away the blog in my head to refer back to it sometime in the future. Of late, my head seems to be constantly reeling with to-dos and tasks, consumed by day-to-day routines and rigours and I thought I should make a conscious effort to remind myself to unwind and as wise Van put it (to letitgooooooo).

Part of this effort is to attempt a technology-free day -- no TV, no phones and gasp! No internet! Of course, the project promises to be a spectacular failure thanks to k's total disinterest and distaste for the whole idea. So, what do you guys think? Is the idea too cliched to work? Or will the very thought that we can't lean upon technology to kill our boredom and contribute to our entertainment will make us more stressed? What will we do instead, you ask? But, with a toddler in tow, I wonder if going tech-free will make any difference to my day except after r~ has slept for the night (1-2 hours me-time at the most) and then, I always have my book tower to fall back upon. What this exercise will probably buy me is my inability to access facebook and my online tadalist...hmm. Not much but everyone keeps claiming how going back to a slower paced world will fix all woes and so I thought this was worth a shot!

Meanwhile, my three thanks go to:

Hari:

"Ramya?"

Me (holding back tears at Atlanta airport, August 2000 -- first day in America): "Yes..."

"Naan hari? Nyaabagama iruka? Bits senior...mechanical engineering..."

"Oh" (His face vaguely familiar was like that of a guardian angel's)

"Are you ok?"

I give him a hesitant nod and show him my boarding pass.

"You have to catch the train to go to that terminal...you know that right?"

"No..." (At this point, my eyes are watering up...what train? Where?)

He points to where a few people stand with luggages and says, "You need to board this train and get down at your terminal..."

"Ok...", I say in a small voice.

He hesitates, "You know I can come with you if you want...was waiting to receive a few friends..."

"No, I'll manage..." (Please come, I say in my head. I am scared and alone and my luggage tore and the nasty lady at the counter screamed at me, "Expecting to sue the airport I suppose? With your cheap old baggage from India" and I shook my head vigorously and she dismissed me with a "Seal your bag and get it". I waited helplessly until a kindly old American gentleman sealed my suitcase in a plastic wrap and patted my shoulder when I thanked him profusely...)

"Sure? Ok, I'll walk with you..."

And he waits until I board the train. I am busy trying to balance my overstuffed hand luggage and am thrown off balance momentarily when the train starts. I manage to get off at the right terminal and the rest as they say is history.

So...thanks Hari for being there that day and saving my day. Some day maybe we will meet and I will remember to thank you properly...

Salooja, Lakshmi, Anusha:

All of them my school buddies. Their faces are just vague silhouttes for me today but I enjoyed their friendships while they lasted...for reasons I can't fully recall I lost touch with them. I remember why Lakshmi stopped talking to me like she used to...

"Lakshmi, Ramya...stand up!" My Geography teacher? Or was it Math teacher? I can't remember but I do remember she sounded extremely displeased that we were whispering to each other while she droned on about something she felt was of utmost importance.

"Stop talking in class."

We both being "good students" hung our heads in shame.

"Ramya, don't let Lakshmi spoil you also!"

And that was that. Lakshmi although a conscientious student seldom stood within the top three ranks (which I did). And after that day, Lakshmi maintained her distance. I was too immature to discuss the incident openly and here I am today.

Salooja had the sweetest round face of any girl I have ever known. She was gentle and mild-mannered and just happy to go along with my ideas. I suppose I was the bossy one then but in general she had a calming influence on me and I felt protective around her -- she was this delicate sort of girl. I don't remember why we didn't stay in touch...

Anusha was this bubbly, boyish, cute girl. I was very fond of her. I can't even remember why. Just remember that she had this cute front flick and she was fun to hang out with.

Thanks to you girls for being really great girl friends. I miss you and even more because I don't have any girl (or best) friends so to speak (just friends and family friends).

Radha:

When I was still a freshie at Bits, one of the final year seniors, Radha, called me to her room (they were supposed to be the worst raggers) and I was terrified. The first thing she asked me to do was to fill her water bottle with water :p She wore glasses and looked smart with her hair high up in a pony tail. But the ragging was not quite what I expected. She asked me what I read and we discovered we liked the same books. We discussed Darcy (who else?) and quite a few other characters from novels and three hours later she said I was free to go! I came out shocked that I had talked so much to a senti-semite and that it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience!

A few days later at our mess, I heard "Freshieeee" and my heart stopped. A pretty girl dressed in a faint pink saree gestured me to her table. Several other seniors sat with her and I carried my lunch plate and stood with my head bowed in front of her, "Yes ma'am."

She stared at me for a few minutes and I didn't know what to say, "Yes ma'am aaa? Ada paavi? Don't you remember me?"

I hastily tried to place her but by then she was already waving me off. And a few minutes later it came back to me. Radha minus the pony tail and glasses. Dressed in a saree instead of western wear and wearing contacts and a bindi! I felt a sudden urge to rush back to her table and apologize but I was still a scared freshie and decided not to test my luck.

A year later when it was graduation night, Radha and Sowmya (her best friend) cried and hugged each other because they were leaving Bits and I thought it would be pretty awesome to have a best friend who would cry and hug you when you left college. That didn't happen. Of course, I didn't know it then and I really wished that would be true in my case also.

So thank you Radha for a fantastic ragging experience. If we met now, we would have so much to talk about.

Why these people? When I could thank a million others? I don't know. Just picked the first few people that came knocking at my mental door step when I dug back into black and white photos in my head...and I really do feel better now. Being thankful is an awesome feeling indeed.

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About odd feelings and familiar comforts.

I am an "odd" sort of person in the sense that certain situations will without fail produce an I-feel-awkward aura around me and k will most certainly point out why my feeling is unwarranted and I really out to just grow up and deal with it. I, you can guess by now, of course disagree. Certain situations demand that you feel odd.

Take for example one situation which always always makes me swallow and gulp and look all shifty-eyed and weird -- changing my provider, a provider being anyone who supplies certain items that I regularly need or provides services that I avail of when in need and hence shares a certain degree of familiarity with me. For eg: my doctor, my florist (if I had one), my beautician (Ok fine! I go to her once in six months to do my eyebrows). The problem arises when I try to switch from one to another or ask for a discount or just do something other than pay the cash and take the service.

To dive into the details, my current source of oddity is r's pediatrician. So, there was this dude who wasn't as adept as he should have been for her well visit check-up. As a result, he laboriously prodded her and she lost it and scream her head off. As a result of which, I lost it a bit too and k had two difficult girls to handle as the drama unfolded in the doctor's office. To give the doc some credit, he was very nice about calming me down and assuring me why the prodding was necessary to ensure dear lil' r~'s ears were healthy. And so, I nodded and sniffled as k carried poor diaper-clad r around the clinic to appease her. All this is fine but then due to a few other reasons, we decided to change r's pediatrician (3 hours for a well-visit appointment!) And now comes the awkward part. The new doc said we needed to contact our old doc and get all of her records from there so they can get her into their system (Don't get me started on the "In the system" protocol -- I can write a book about it). When k told me this, I hemmed and hawed and finally told him I couldn't do it and then you know we fell into our regular pattern which went like this:

"Why can't you call them and get the records?"

"Because, I feel odd to do it."

"Why should you feel odd? You are the patient, you have a right to see some other doc. For her last appointment tomorrow, I told the clinic we don't want to see this particular doc ." (The docs in her old clinic do a rotation sort of thing, so you don't really know which of the 5 docs you are going to get and the particular doc in question was our ear prodding dude.)

"What?" (I am mortified -- what if he walks in to check on her, should we like block his way or something?)

"What? I told the nurse we don't want to see Dr. a~ and she didn't care, she was like sure, if he walks in, just tell him you want to see someone else"

"Oh noooo! I can't do that. If Dr. a~ walks in, I'll just have r~ checked by him and then anyway we go to the new clinic next time!"

"Why? Why?" (At this point, k has the expression he gets on his face when he can't begin to imagine why I behave the way I do sometimes)

"Because it is ODD!"

Yes. O.D.D. And I have a right to feel odd in situations like this. The problem is I have more than a few of these that I find hard to handle -- bargaining for a used car purchase, bargaining with an Indian auto-rikshaw driver over the fare, asking for a discount...at some point in the past, I felt odd to go back to the Indian grocery store after a break of six months when we shopped at another store. I think s~ uncle actually had a oh-look-who-is-finally-back-look on his face when he saw us but if I tell k that, he would say I am imagining things.

Ok so maybe s~ uncle who owns the Indian grocery store may not care as much if one of his customers decided to go awol. But you know what? Sometimes people do care and notice a lot more than we give them credit for and that's why I like to stick to my service providers (even had a hard time convincing myself to switch to AT&T from Sprint) -- you never know, one day they may recognize you for being faithful and give you credit for it. I bet k won't complain because the Indian restaurant that's like two minutes away from our house gave him a permanent 10% off because we ordered take-outs so often (Yeah yeah, I do cook but I was in a homesick phase after folks left back to India and couldn't drag myself into the kitchen to cook).

So yeah. Cheers to everything familiar -- there is comfort even in getting your eyebrows threaded by the same hands (although it hurts like crazy no matter who does it).

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Good hair day!

Once in a blue moon day captured on camera! Now, there's some proof that this unruly tangle called my hair style can be tamed (for $10 + tips but worth it, me thinks)!

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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.

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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!

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Free book offer!

My friend r~ had this neat idea to promote my book, so here goes...

Promote my book anyway you can -- blog it, tweet it, facebook it, myspace it if you into web20 or email/chat if you like slightly older technology or talk about it and write letters (if you are into ancient ;) and the person with the best results (relatively) will get a copy of The Last Laugh free (Yeah, yeah, you don't have to pay shipping or sign up for a lifetime supply of every book I output, am not conning you :p)

Also, I think I should give away a free copy in US and one in India to the person who shouts the loudest (and is heard the most :)

I suppose there ought to be a deadline for this sort of thing. Will post updates soon as I check out the response to this post (Yes, if you are the only person who responded to this post and did the needful, the book is yours to keep :p).

So there.

Please email me if you think you have shouted your throat hoarse and show me what you've got (Email threads, chat transcripts, fb pages and all that good stuff) and I promise I'll root for you to get a free copy! More points for creative advertisement of the book (like mention of particular stories, what you fancied about it (you did, didn't you? Awww...don't break my heart!) etc.

The Last Laugh facebook page (permanently on this blog on the right) has all the details about where you can buy the book (Online - Createspace, Amazon, In India @ pothi.com).

Many thanks for the support. Much grateful.

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An ode to modern motherhood.

When I was pregnant, my friend a~ told me that the pregnancy/labor bit was easier compared to what follows. She said, at least I know that can't go on forever but lack of sleep really kills me or something to that effect. And I wondered how that could be true. Of course, since I was pregnant, I was only concerned about the pregnancy part of the whole experience and I thought once the baby is born, I can switch back to a worry-free existence -- you know the cutesy smiling mommy, gurgling toothless baby scenarios? Turns out, I was pretty off base. Pregnancy was really easy compared to sleepless nights and the newer worries that were born with the little package that I signed up for :)

Of course, I can never say my labor and birth of li'l r~ were easy. Nope, although I seem to have made a valiant effort to see the humor in the situation when I read my birth story (Radhu was 7 days old then) a few days back. k likes to call it "the much-glorified blood-loss story". Of course, I shot back with choice phrases that postpartum wives reserve for their helpful yet annoyingly hormone-balanced husbands. Suffice to say the story wasn't pretty.

Anyway, I digress. I was talking about how this whole motherhood thing is a pretty sneakily tricky business. At every stage, it gets you thinking, "Oh! If only I pass this stage, then all's going to be rosy and peaceful" and then you reach that stage and you are already peeking into the next stage and wondering when said stage will jump ahead. And like all mom stories you might have heard, I will add that each stage has a charm that you will miss when you near its end. See, that's why it's sneaky. You want your baby to be done having teeth and then you look at her full-teethed smile and wonder where the toothless grin of yesterday vanished to. You watch her bob her head to music and wonder why the little person who needed your smell every moment of her awake-time doesn't need you quite so much anymore. You are waiting for her to take those little baby steps but know already that you will miss the time when all she could do was roll from her tummy to her back. Sigh. You can't beat the system. You gotta ride the ups and downs and savor the experience. That's the tricky bit -- the knowledge that it's challenging and fun, tiresome and enriching. Can't have one without the other.

So, while you are dealing with all these inconsistencies, you realize you also have a work-life in the outside world that needs your attention. And, I don't know how the super moms do it but I find it really really hard to do justice to the outside world and the baby world. And this is when I haven't really cooked in almost 2 years, save the sudden urge to make a sweet or two on an auspicious day! But, I try anyway with the end result that I am tired and sometimes short fused ("Sometimes?!" -- that would be k screaming from down the hall :p) and yet not satisfied with what I have achieved at the end of the day. There is still a list of 12 tasks and personal goals (including sleep) yet to be achieved and it's already midnight.

Whenever I get into this mode of thinking, well-meaning folks have the tendency to get that faraway wise look as they say, "Think of the moms of yester years who did it all on their own", "Think of the moms who..." blah. blah. Yes, yes. Those moms rock. And I suppose I am selfish in assuming I have a tough life but hey, part of living a fulfilling life is to really live in the moment. So, I am doing that, aren't I? Really soaking up motherhood moments and still trying to have fun. Don't see the need to compare muhself with moms of yesteryears who did it all and still smiled at their husbands with bright-eyed devotion in the mornings as opposed to bleary-eyed, mumbling-to-self lady in pjs who snarls at dear husband in the morning (Uh. That would be me). So, what am I saying? Modern moms have the right to crib too. It's fun to crib (crib = complain as we Indians like to call it). I bet it's healthful (or some such fancy word) to the soul too. To modern motherhood!

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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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k-yum cable-um (k and the cable)!

Pulled off some neat stuff for k's birthday! Here's a sneak preview of a skit we arranged with clues pointing to a few of k's gifts! More posts with more details. For now, enjoy the show! Actors: - s~, s~ & b~ :) Looks like acting runs in the family! Oh...and can you guess the gifts -- each video has a clue pointing to a gift and all four gifts belong to the same family ;)

Please double-click the video links below. I have withheld embedding permissions.

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*23*

Apparently, 25 is the indisputable king of lists. Facebook has a list of 25 random facts about you; you read about top 25 changes you can make to your wardrobe to not look like a maid everyday (Ok fine, that's just one of the lists I plan to make soon), 25 ways to become a new you...you get the point.

And so, I wish to nominate 23 as the new 25. Just for kicks. Also because my birthday falls on 23rd. And I hereby present 23 thoughts and all that that you were dying to read about all this time! Why here? Where else? Nobody asked me for my 25 thoughts on face-book or orkut or myspace...wait, I don't have an account on myspace. But, yeah. Nobody in any sort of online community went, "Gosh! RS, you have to tell me 25 trivial thoughts that ran in your head today! Can't wait to hear!" So anyway...

*drumroll*

1. I keep reading it's good to be grateful. I am grateful to Stephenie Meyers (Of the Twilight fame) for making the last few days' wait for little r~ more bearable -- almost a blur in my head.

2. I recently started sleeping on the other side of the bed. It was weird at first.

3. It's so weird when people say hi and smile but don't even carry the smile on their faces until you walk past them. Kind of like auto-pilot. So they looks really comical in that second when they suddenly switch from smiling to expression-less.

4. k says am in awe of someone or the other all the time. Is that a good thing or not?

5. I always thought I would fall for someone who didn't obey all the rules.

6. I typically try to follow all the rules.

7. Home birthing is a whole new story.

8. Stay at home moms are rock stars

9. Temporary obsessions are fun -- like Harry Potter, Twilight, Shopaholic series...

10. I don't think I am meant to have a best girl-friend. k has been with me to more girly events than I can recall.

11. Oh my God! I just realized I don't have a best boy-friend either.

12. Overall, you are not very different from how I am.

13. Is there such a thing as online-ADD? Pick the laptop to do something online; do something else; also do yet another thing online; become totally distracted.

14. How many useless memories can you recall now? I can think of one -- I remember this girl (my senior at UK) had her hands on the bottom of the steering wheel while driving. She had grey woolen gloves on. I remember being fascinated that 1) She could drive 2) She could drive with her hands resting like that on the steering wheel. I wondered when I would ever own a car and drive on my own. I always wanted to be her friend.

15. I don't do maps.

16. Dhanush was super funny in Padikaadhavan.

17. Twilight plays in my car too -- Bella's lullaby rocks.

19. I admire women who are always well-dressed -- to work, to drop their kids to school, to walk in the park; how do they do it?

20. Anyone else out there that watched DDLJ 7 times and cried the first 3 times?

21. Many times, I find I am unconsciously spelling words with my right hand index finger -- weird.

22. Wonder how things would have turned out if my parents had stuck with my original name, Narmada?

23. Be frank, ok? If I write a collection of short stories, will it sell?

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Stuck.

Today is one of those days that I feel stuck. Stuck in life. It's one of those days where nothing goes wrong in particular, no one says anything to set me off but I just don't feel right. I don't even know why.

Ever have one of those days? A day full of minor routines, maybe one or two pieces that won't fall in place -- a server that won't work, a plan that doesn't seem to be materializing, a dream that is half-way implemented -- and it feels like I just want to curl up and go back to bed and not go about any routine or talk to anyone.

So, I stopped debugging the server, stopped worrying about the incomplete dream, and just looked at the photos I took yesterday of r~.

That didn't fix my vague blue mood or fill me with a surge of adrenalin to get going but at least it reminded me that soon, I will be home playing with her and then everything will take a back-seat. It made me smile.

Thank God for that.

Oh! And Happy Tamil New Year's Day!

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