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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On long weekends.

If you are in the US, you know that long weekends are a big deal. An extra holiday means a lot to 9-to-5ers. People start talking about it right at the beginning of the work week and conversations always include questions on "the long weekend plan". The plan, that's the next big deal. If you know me well, you also know that I love to plan -- for today, for tomorrow, for the next 5 years, for myself, for k, for r and so on. So, that's 2 things that I like -- an extra holiday and planning. Somehow, add it together and it doesn't always get me as excited as one would logically assume it would.

After more than a decade here, I am always a little bit apprehensive about long weekend planning. Do we drive 6 hours (Arrrrrrg!) and spend loads of money to get super tired at some nerve-wracking amusement park with scary rides? Or we can drive 7 hours (Arrrrrrrrrg!) and get even more tired after a day spent trekking and camping. Now, truth be told, I haven't done much of either and it's not that I am not a nature-type-of-girl (I guess I am not) but when I have a precious extra day, I don't want to plan business into it. I want to plan nothing for that day. Actually I'd rather "not plan" because in this day and age, "plan to do nothing" has its own connotations like no-technology, no-TV and more such nos that we impose on our selves to prove that we can be happier by taking fun stuff out of our lives -- its all about not being dependent, including being dependent on being happy, if that makes sense.

So usually, I feel a sense of being in a race when the long weekend approaches -- like I am lagging behind if all I want to do is sit at home and do nothing (which actually amounts to quite a bit if you have a 2 year old, so, you might as well head out, but that's another story) . For me, doing nothing is fun. Sure, traveling the world sounds like a great eat-pray-love kind of thing to do but usually am not in the mind frame for that! Sometimes, I just want to organize my house more, sometimes, I just want to watch a movie or act silly with r or my favorite (you know, do nothing) which gets like a C rating if say, traveling the world is A+. Add to this the fact that k is a traveling-the-world kind of guy and you can literally see me wishing the extra day away but for the fact that the day has so much potential :p

On a related note, I wonder why long weekends were never such a big deal (or come to think of it, even a deal) in India? Is that because we had many other exciting holidays to look forward to which weren't termed long weekend but in essence and were actually significant for a lot more reasons than just an extra day off? Or was it because I never had to work in India and hence have no recollection of workdays and time off work?

So go on, ask me. I don't have a plan for the long weekend. No, I won't drive. No, I don't want to walk 3 miles and climb 2 miles to see the most breathtaking waterfall there ever is in this universe. No, I don't want to not check FB and twitter (am sure there will be a day when I will impose these rules on my family, this weekend is not it!) I just want my extra day to be just that -- a sweet 24 hours where I don't have to do anything or nothing. I can be in the land of the peaches and the onions and smell the roses or not. Maybe I will open an account at our local library and check a to do or maybe we will continue watching 180 (which seems like a good Tamil movie so far). Or not.

(I guess I just need a break after the interviews and the arangetram and the move and the new job but I stand by what I said -- no long weekend plans! There, I said it.).

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India -- Days 0 & 1

Travel: The first thing I noticed in Brussels (Ok technically not India but let's let's assume it is) airport was the restrooms. I walked into a restroom area, saw the full doors and almost assumed I was in the wrong place. I have always been a supporter of restroom doors that don't stop 1/2 way through like shorts instead of pants (or 3/4ths) especially in those years when I was still new to the US but when the third person tried to lower the latch of my restroom door to see if someone was in or not, I discovered an advantage to the American style restroom -- you always know when someone's inside and the size and style of the shoes they wear!

I was thrilled when I saw that my snack for the last leg of the flight was Paav Bhaji. Welcome home RS. In flight entertainment for Jet Airways rocked -- The Devil wears Prada (4th time?), Athithi, tum kab aaoge, Karthik calling Karthik :)

♥♥♥

Service providers: Yesterday, the electrician came home because my dad had asked him to come and we realized he didn't have to fix anything, so my mom gave him 20 rupees and 2 mysore paks and sent him away.
"!"
In the US, that would have translated to $120 for just showing up.

♥♥♥

Mornings: Heard the Kokkarako Sevale sing it's good morning song yesterday morning at around 5 (because we hadn't slept yet) and today at 5 (because I woke up already)!

♥♥♥

r~: r~ has a lot less stranger anxiety here which is surprising because she is surrounded by more people (and more strangers) here than back in Lex. And if I spent a couple of months here, she would be a lot more fluent in Tamil (To her credit, she already speaks well in Tamil and I know that's going to change, fast, once I start school for her) than I can hope to make her given a couple of years in America. When we landed in Chicago and the lights were turned on in the aircraft, she said, "All done! Vandudthe! India vandudthe!" :) 

♥♥♥

RS: I have become one of those absurd moms sanitizing her daughter's hands in airports and other public places here. When did that happen?

Eat: I told the samayalkara maami that I wanted a lot more coffee than the one small tumbler she gave me and today she gave me a bigger tumbler of coffee (probably the biggest tumbler we have in the house) and it's still less than half of what I would have in the US.


More to come...someone is up :)

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Post vacation rumination.

Running barefoot (like her dad) @ Standford campus

It seemed like k and I hadn't gone on a real vacation for years and that was probably the case. Between parents and in-laws' visits and baby care, the last thing on our minds was a vacation. We did plan one last year but it got canceled due to unavoidable reasons. So, when I thought of traveling with a toddler and the long plane ride involved, I wasn't really sure if I wanted a vacation yet! But now that I am back, seems to me I needed not one but two vacations. I rediscovered the fun of seeing new places, new life styles and meeting new people (and familiar people who in the process of life had become not so familiar).

r~ had a blast -- she had a 19 month old, a 3 year old and a 15 month old for company and a sprawling house with stone elephants standing as tall as her among other things! Poor thing has a cold and ear infection now but still the experience was nice and different! I got to see different parenting styles (somehow we are all the same behind the various styles :), book shops, at least 4 different Indian restaurants (Komala vilaas, Chaat paradise, Rajjots, Saravana Bhavan), catch icy cold waves crashing against my feet, visit Stanford campus and catch up with my uncle and aunt. A part of me wondered why we hadn't settled down in the Bay Area...it's this thing I often do. Wonder how it would have been if we had settled down in the city we are visiting, hanging out with the people we are staying with on a regular basis, living lives similar to theirs...One of k's friends explained why the schooling system was not great in the Bay area -- not that it wasn't competitive but rather the opposite, it was so competitive, desi kids often ended up overworking themselves and yet feeling inadequate and so on and I almost felt like asking him if they ever thought of moving to Lex. Of course, the usual response to that question is a laugh and something like, "Is that even on the map?" But, vacation makes me think crazy thoughts and I had this sudden urge to get to know these people better and in my head, that meant that they move to Lex! My mind, unaccustomed to the lack of routine, does come up with some fanciful thoughts when am away from home!

The Bay area is a super fun place to live in but life there is literally on the run! You can walk out of your house and catch the train (a big plus for r`), walk a few minutes more into a book store and cafe or a hair salon or the post office and there are real people walking down the streets (a must for any desi or visitor from India!) and of course k rationalized with a bunch of reasons why we live where we live. The rational part of my brain agrees of course but it's fun to dream of different lives and a short stay often leaves an impression behind of the more glamorous parts of the experience and the place rather than the not so comfortable ones. Because in the short duration we spend there, we don't have to deal with the necessities of our daily routine -- how will we travel to work? Will r~ go to a day care? How much quality time can I spend with her and keep a job? Or can I afford to work at home? House? Expenses? These don't matter for the 10 days you spend in a different city and so what captures your imagination are the sights and sounds and the uniqueness of the place.

The trip sort of got me out of the sameness of my routine and broke the extreme focus on the minutiae of my life and it got me thinking of things I normally would not have thought of if I hadn't ventured out of my small town. And meeting new people is refreshing -- always manages to add new dimensions to our ways of thinking.

So yes, red eye flights, jet lags, ear infections notwithstanding, vacations are a good thing :)

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About grass and India and women and the pursuit of happiness.

How much truth is there to the observation that the grass is greener on the other side? It's become one of those tired old cliches but what exactly is it supposed to mean? That no matter where you are in life, you want to be or do something the person across is doing? Is it just a cliche to hide petty jealousies and envies behind a thin veneer of words? Anyway, this week is ♪repetition vaaaaaram♪ as they would say on Sun TV and so I am going to type up my thoughts as quick as I can (Unfortunately, I do have some work that needs to be done today) before I head home.

So, I've heard of several theories that claim that choices inherently make a human being less happy. Simple choices, simple life, peace. By that definition America would be a very unhappy country but I'll put that thought in the back burner for now (As my English teacher at DAV used to say). Going by that logic, if I did not have a choice to come to America or a choice to go back to India now, would I be happier? Does that mean me would have been happier living in Des having never lived and experienced life in this country? Or would I be one of those folks who really wanted to come abroad but for some reason or just bad luck maybe could not? And then, would I be spending my days envying the greener grass on the other side?

And if I did not have a choice to return to dear old mera Bharath mahaan now, would I be happier because my life is lived here and can only be lived here (because of whatever reason)? Or would I then be cursing my luck for not having saved enough or worked hard enough to move back to India? Would I be envying those brave and fortunate people who actually crossed the seas back home? I can't say for sure because I am not in a position where the choice is not available for me.

This brings me to another question about us women. As a teenager, I was a little bit of a feminist in the sense that I viewed the hard life of women and the lack of recognition as a misery that they tolerated because they had no choice. But then, did they tolerate that life or were they happy living under a roof with their family able to cook and provide food for the umpteen mouths that needed to be fed? And the husband that needed to be appeased at the end of a hard day's work? Were they just happy that they had it in them to do so much -- cook, clean, birth, please day after day? Or did they see it as a drudgery that they had no escape from? Did the lack of choice make them happier than modern women? We keep coming across statistics that claim modern women make more money, have more freedom and yet are unhappier while the men folk have raced ahead in terms of happiness. Is this because we have so many choices in front of us -- work/stay at home, provide outside care for your child/care for your child at home or even the basic cook/take out? I guess for women of the previous generation -- providing outside care for kids, working outside the house, ordering take outs were not an option, were they? They did their jobs and at the end of the day, snored their way into the next chore-filled morning. But, what went on in their heads? Just thoughts about how to manage the children and their school work and house hold chores and finance? Or did they dream of some version of me-time too? :)

It's hard to generalize and banish choices as evil. Sometimes choices rock -- Hersheys Bliss white chocolate or Lindt white chocolate? (Provided you are not thinking, exercise to lose the extra pounds or just pack them on and give up the slim-wicked-mom-figure ideal)...

So, if it's all in the mind and it's all about choices, can anyone be happy pretending their life was the one choice they had and they better work at it and make it the best one they had? You know, how you keep hearing about people who survived accidents or were laid off and the shock jolted them towards what they really wanted in their lives? Perhaps if we are clever enough, we can sort of do the jolting without the precursor. Just put our minds on time-out and ask them to sort the mess inside them asap -- basically, Quit crapping and go get a life, willya?!

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Do you have the time to smell the flowers?

Do you have the time to...

wander in a library from aisle to aisle until you find the book that just smells right?

walk along the beach on bare feet looking for shells that carry secrets of the ocean?

talk for hours together, not on the phone, not on chat, just plain, face to face talk, watching every twitch, grin and full-mouthed smile that lights up on the other face?

sit on a park bench and watch...life?

hear temple bells and indistinct chants during an early morning walk?

listen to stories narrated by aging mouths of a time when cinemas were in black and white and real life was much more colorful than now?

think of then and now, of things that were meant to be and relationships that weren't?

uni-task? To immerse yourself and be true to one task for a while?

feel someone else's pain and pleasure?

stop and watch, to slow down and smell the flowers on the way?

click add to cart and read this book? Just kidding! All of you have time for that ;)

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Scatterbrained.

Aaah. Another night in countless nights with less than 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep (where's my medal?) Side-effect being that I can't think coherently and therefore cannot write coherently. Result being this post.

I wonder if Radhika doesn't like the bottle just like I don't like the breast pump. In our quest for equal rights, we seem to have painted ourselves into a corner. Need to perform well at work, need to be great mom...Need to be a great mom, need to perform well at work, need in-laws to think am doing some level of work at home (have pretty much given up on this), need to have date nights (Ha haaa), need to keep up with baby-info, need to sell my book (I know, I just can't stop saying "My book" :-)...so many needs and one small brain (Ok fine! It has 100 billion neurons but ever tried to reach this limit?).

Uhh...wait, where was I? Oh yeah, the breast pump. Been thinking about this contraption ever since I read this cool article by Judith Warner. So now, we willingly subject ourselves to this nonsense and demand a pumping room in the workplace so we can save some magic-mommy-milk for baby. If you lived in the previous century and someone told you about breast pumps, you would have laughed and then raised your eyes incredulously when you realized it was not a joke. What have we landed ourselves into?

Why do we feel the urge to work when nature did not entrust us with that responsibility in the first place? Yeah, yeah, we have brains that function just as well as mens' brains etc. But maybe, the brain was meant to function best when the woman stayed home with the children. Then, the equations would have been clear-cut. And yes, I would probably be teary-eyed in my pretty apron (Yeah, chronologically and geographically incorrect but am sleep-deprived) if I had burnt the bajji that I fried lovingly for my husband when he came home after a day's work. But at least, I knew that was my responsibility and I knew I had to excel in that. Not in 200 other things that I impose on myself.

What can I blame for this urge to multi-task? To work and pump and nurture and be good at everything under the sun? (I know I hardly used the breast pump, so can't really rightfully complain but what the hell, just feel like complaining about...women and our decisions).

The vast majority of self help books say, "If you are unhappy, change it..." (Who moved my cheese, anyone?)...so why don't I just change it instead of typing furiously on my thinkpad? Sigh. Because all said and done (What now? I am using cliches? I really need to sleep!), I got it pretty good and I realize it in those rare moments of self-awareness that seem to come farther apart nowadays.

What's my point again? Dunno. What if I lived ages back...actually no thanks, I'd like to live now :) So, what if I just do one thing and be really good at that one thing? (Like google -- search and search real damn fast and well!) Let's see...in my imaginary, ideal world, I would probably be an SAHM, owning one of those mom-owned cool businesses or writing for a living (Woohoo! -- so, read my book already!), having the energy to take care of r~ all the time and ooh, wait, I want to look sexy too and not fight with k over night wakings...!

Hey....100 billion neurons, you got that all? Good, so work towards it!

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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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What this is not about.

My birth story
I thought of writing a birth story. As one of my friends put it, Radhu's birth was eventful enough to talk about it for quite sometime. But then, somewhere between midnight feedings and diaper changes I lost the enthusiasm to write about it. I did note down a pretty extensive story in my diary though. When Radhu is 16 and talking back at me, I plan to show her the diary entry, just like Marie (Arrgg, it's finally happened. I am planning to be like Marie of all people!):

Ray -"No"

Marie - "Oh the agony...when I carried you for nine months..."

Ray - "Ok mom, not that story again. I'll do it")

So anyway, I didn't write the birth story here. So, this post is not about that.

Drishti
Just like in any TamBram family, as soon as an auspicious event occurs, there is extensive discussion about drishti (nazar) and even more elaborate ways to circumvent it. For instance, inviting a 100 people to your new house for the house warming ceremony, these people being likely drishti candidates. Now, what defines a drishti candidate (i,e a drishti putter)?

A drishti putter is someone who is likely to see your fine new house and go, "Gosh! Look at their biiiiig house! It's so neat and shiny! Wish I had one like this" and then lo and behold! The east entrance of the house crumbles down because of a rare species of malfunctionaing termites. You get the point. So coming back to the discussion, a new house owner wishing to avoid drishti should invite the most likely 100 drishti putters (it's kind of like the flu vaccine, you select the most probable strains!) and then offer good food to them to avoid their drishti. Yup, we TamBrams sure know how to beat the "casters" of the evil eye!

I wanted to note down my thoughts on drishti but then I was so overwhelmed by the amount of rules and regulations for avoiding drishti for new baby and mom that I forgot to note them down here. (To be fair, my mom has been pretty lax about imposing them on me which is sweet of her...just in case she reads this post :p)

So this post is not about drishti.

Homesickness
What do you call it when you are homesick at home? That's what I have been having intermittently for the past several weeks. And I blame it on my house guests. My dad initially flew in for a week, followed by my brother for 10 days and then my sis-in-law for 10 days. And everytime they leave, I feel homesick all over again. I even considered going to Madras for a couple of months. Being a new mom puts certain things in perspective or way out of perspective. Which is pretty much how being a normal person is but anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, perspective. So you a new mom and you start thinking about how much quality time the grandparents are missing back in India and then you start thinking about moving back to India for good and then your husband goes like, "Whaa? Is this some weird manifestation of baby blues that has my wife suggesting sudden life changes?"

But after six weeks postpartum, I gave up the idea (at least for the time being). So, I couldn't really write about an India trip.

Baby Talk
Ever been in one of those mildly embarassing situations where the parents of a baby excitedly tell us "Oh you should see him doing this, it's so funny..." and then they prompt the baby with all the sweet talk they can muster. The baby of course does its own thing. He gives them a blank look and refuses to do the cute antic he was supposed to do. Even worse, he acts like he did not even begin to understand the request. I am waiting for the time when that's going to happen to k and me. I always told myself I should remember not to do that but am pretty sure I am going to do it. I could write something about funny baby stuff like that but I keep forgetting what else I had to say. All thoughts keep getting entangled with a steady flow of drowsiness.

So that's all the stuff that I did not write here. Until I have some coherent thoughts that I can pen down, this is what my blog is going to be about. Little nothings :)

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About being grownup and some random questions.

Since it's Friday, am allowed to post random thoughts in this space and have the audacity to call it a post.

• My first random thought is about growing up. Is there a cut-off age when we are supposed to consider ourselves all grown up? The reason I ask is, I certainly don't feel grown up. An uncle I know, who is 42, seemed offended when one of my friends called him "Uncle", my friend is 24 years old. A couple of 50-something-maamis in Lexington did not approve of "aunty". So, really besides the 60-something people (what are they called?), septuagenarians and octogenarians does anyone really want to be considered a grown-up? The other day, I went to a puja at a maami's place. After the puja, I talked a bit to the teenagers there (because some of them were dancing with me for a cultural show - remember I told you, Lex desis are getting all spruced up for Dr.Kalam's visit?), and then I talked to an American Indian 20-something girl and then turned to all the 40 something maamis with the intent of making similar excited conversation. I talked to the maami who invited me and then clung to her like a kid! I really did not know what to say to the other maamis! I actually felt a bit intimidated. The experience was all very strange. k told me that was all cool, "It just means you can totally relate to your kids, won't that be cool?" Hmm, yes. But when does a girl make a transition to maamihood? At 30? After a kid? Would be nice if all of us get one of those notices saying "You are all grown up now lady. So suck it up and act like an adult!"

• Next random question - do you guys know how to make a blog "by invitation only" but at the same time allow people to request readership? I am getting bored of editing my short story blog everytime I submit a story to a magazine (it's that nice image on the right-hand side in case you haven't noticed - don't tell me that, I'll be heart-broken - just click it :-). I have to save the story as draft because I don't really know what the publishers mean when they say, "Can you confirm that your story is not published anywhere else?" Sometimes they specify "online". So anyway, I made my short-story blog "by invitation" only, but I fear my small subset of readers will quickly exit if I provide such major incentives to not read what I dish out. So...any suggestions? How can I restrict membership dynamically? Oh and please do let me know if you want me to add your email id to the reader list. Muchos gracias!
  

• My third question - I want to self-publish a book about my "going green" obsessions. I am working on a website currently. But the thing is, if I publish through amazon, then I have to pay them 75% of the cost of the book, I can't even set the price of the book less than $8 or I make a loss! I checked out lulu.com and a few others but I guess that's the price you pay to buy "presence"! Any smart ideas?

• Almost forgot! Today is Karadayan Nombu. Going to try sweet adai and delight the better half (So annoying when he doesn't get delighted enough :p). Wish me luck!
  

Ok, that's that for now. Me off to lunch soon. Tada.

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Can this be any more random?!

It's one of those days - dark, wet and muggy, the kind of day that Voldemort would probably choose to make an appearance. But, today is also the kind of day that can inspire a tragic short story to come to life - I can see it already - it would have all the elements of a compelling love story and just when the reader is silently praying that the lovers unite, an unexpected twist...umm, also torrential rains, add a few strikes of lightening to that! And in the end, not one of those sordid unexplained accidents or deaths, this would be realistic - a tragedy unexpected but real, like the tears that would fall from every pair of eyes that read the tale! Ah...if only I could weave such a colorful tale!

On second thoughts, I'll pass. Way too much effort on a day like this howmuchever it might attempt to inspire. Ever notice how some parts of our lives are favorites for story tellers? Like train journeys, haunted houses, village feuds, broken marriages, affairs...no one ever writes short stories about software engineers and computers, doctors yes, engineers...naah. I asked an oncologist who happens to be in my dance class if ER, House, Scrubs are realistic or way exaggerated to make for interesting viewing and she said, parts of it are real, the trauma, patients and injuries and the fantastic love stories and affairs that go with it are pretty much what do you call it....masala :) Come to think of it, there is one movie made about us folks, Office Space! When I saw it several years back, I couldn't relate much to it, I need to watch it again to see if experience in this field has changed my perspective enough for me to crack up (like my colleagues do) while watching the movie.

Since I have come this far with my random jumble of thoughts, I might as well add another unrelated insight. Is it just me or are Indian American teenage+ girls super funny? I mean, in a nice way. Somehow I don't remember Indian girls in their teens and early twenties being so light-hearted and seriously funny! Or perhaps, this is still a culture that is different from my own and like anything new, it attracts and flaunts its positives initially. The girls who learn dancing with me somehow comment on the most random things and make the sort of observations that I would have never imagined - like Chandler (in F.R.I.E.N.D.S) does - and I often end up...giggling with them. Last class, we were umm...."disciplined" by our teacher,

"Girls, really! Who started this giggling session?!"

Long pause.

I hesistantly reply, "Aalll of us" - notice the stress on the "All"? All my rusty school-time defenses rose to the rescue :p

"Ok, at least that's the right answer. So anyway, concentrate now!"

Woohoo - escape!

There's this other medical student in class who loves to give me a hard time,

"Are we going to be wearing this costume for Sunday?"

"Jeeez! Ramya, you get a D grade in dance and in costumes too!"

And the other time my teacher gave me her old pair of salangai, she says, "What now, you are like her favorite student or something?!"

And so I said, "In any case, you rock, you are the most advanced student in this class! AS for short, so I'll call you ASSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

*giggles* Apologies but you see this is what cultural shock does to you!

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If only...

Words. Slippery little devils. That's what they are. So often, I open my mouth to express a wish, a thought, a feeling and the little devils twist and turn and change flavors so that I end up saying not entirely what I felt, sometimes not at all...how many lifetimes would I have to spend before I say exactly what I feel right when I feel it, when it would make the most sense, when it would convey the feeling it ought to convey? Instead, I churn and chew and mull over the same thoughts and emotions until the perfect little train of words that ought to have conveyed what I felt are lost in the dark, and am left with cliches, awkward pauses and silences bereft of their meaning...and I sit staring at the old email, holding a phone receiver that is silent after the click at the other end...wondering for the umpteenth time if I should have handled it better...

Sometimes, what we call "advancement" might just be another step backward...of course, a million unopened proposals floating over the web and 143s cluttering chat messages claim otherwise, but nothing beats an honest, face-to-face conversation where expressions and gestures fill in the gaps where words cannot...when I know by his walk, the way his eyes linger over seeming nothings, the way he breathes, when he knows exactly what he wants to say and I hear him say it, sometimes with words, but equally well without...ah, but what we do instead is convince ourselves that a phone call a month or a few lines emailed in a hurry between meetings to a loved one will fulfill the purpose that reading her face and laughing with her will...

We are a lazy bunch. We want to communicate and not commute. And so we type what we think is an email that is as good as a personal meeting, a chat that supposedly reflects what we think, even a telephone call that tries to share our thoughts...and we misread the silences, the symbols, the unspoken words...and before we know it, it's over - the connection and the relationship with it has ended even before it began. But, the memory remains. Like an old scar that never quite heals, a dull pain that surfaces to remind you of the unfinished chapters in your life...

If I had instead talked to you, standing in front of you, holding your hand, watching you as I said the words that painted my thoughts, would you have understood?

PS - Don't worry if you don't get what am saying, sometimes I don't get it either :)

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25 going on 30!

I hear the late 20s are the time when people are most confused (besides midlife crisis), when they vacillate between early 20 something kids and well into 30s parents with kids :) They yearn for the carefree life of the bachelor(ette), late night parties and impulsive decisions. But, the secure, comforting family of three with an adorable toddler holding on tight to the mom no matter how much you try to entice it with chocolates also paints a sweet picture. We wish we could be certain of what to do with this thing called life, like the aunty and uncle we spoke to recently, knowing exactly what they want to do, and, we also know that comes with wisdom that only age can bring along. So, where does that leave us? The people who check the 25-30 box on forms hoping they could curtail their age in that box for a little more time? The to-be-married/just-married/no-kids/SINKs/DINKs?

We still remember the not too distant past when we woke up on snowy mornings and having missed the School bus, trudged along in the snow to teach an 8 AM Calculus class. Why, we even remember the day we stood in the long visa line, with friends from our colleges and even parents, from morning till next morning! And of course, we remember our college crushes like they happened yesterday...we remember how Oasis used to be, how KSR and TRS taught so well but we still didn't get into IIT, no matter BITS turned out to be loads of fun anyway...

And we also know we are standing on the brink of something life-changing - a cliff overlooking an ambitious yet scary future, promising elements of a cosy family life, with little kids gazing at us adoringly, a time when the person the kid refuses to leave is us...not them, and also bits and pieces of unknown paths - a mishmash forming our destiny, the future we hope to experience but can never be certain until the moment is upon us to be the present...

And walking along this path, we often look back, wondering if we could just linger a little longer, but at the same time yearning to experience the treasures that our journey will bring...and until we cross that distance, we remain the elusive 25-going-on-30 people; don't worry we'll get over this together!

And to those people who fall in the 20-25 group, you know the kind that goes, "Oh man, you'll be 30 in a coupla years!", I wish I could say, "Wow! And you are still 23, I must say, that is quite an achievement, your parents must be awfully proud of you!"

But I am a nice girl, I am not rude, given most situations. So, in the infinitely greater wisdom that the few years have given me over this astute 23-year-old, I would nod and smile. Also with wisdom. Ah, such pleasure to possess such wisdom :p

Hey you! Big Three-O, am all ready for you, bring it on, baby!

Uhh...take your time though, not in a hurry!

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My muse.

There was a time, not long ago, when words would flow gently, uninterrupted, from my thoughts to my hands, when rain or shine neither interrupted nor distracted my earnest attempts to string them into sentences...what happened to those words now? Why do they hide in the dark at the smallest pretext - a passing cloud in the sky, a passing phase in my life...?

Nary a phrase nor a word,
Not a sound echoes in all the silence.
Where lies my muse?
Where hides the thrill that perfect words bring?
Who imprisons the epithets that colored my lines?
What of the delightful train of lyrical phrases and melodious clauses,
that chimed along, in tune with me?
Oh, how you dwell in darkness!
Perhaps the whimsical winds, the capricious clouds,
the showers that alight without a call are to blame?
Perhaps, you shy away from the colors of nature?
Did they not embellish your presence once,
why then do you shy away now?
What use is your silhouette when I seek to limn a portrait?
If I seek thee on a bright and sunny morning,
my muse, would you care to return to me?

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Over the hill?

So, k turned thirty and unlike me, my husband loves to celebrate his birthday with a bunch of people, so, we rented disco lights and amplifier from Doo Wop (our local music store), ordered cake from Maggi's bakery, pizzas from Joe Bolognas and we were all set. We had a blast! But, what made the party more energetic were the group of 20-somethings from the University (Yes, I get to say that although am still in my 20s - not for long though :p) - ready to dance into the night and linger over silly conversations, which was such a rare treat for me...

Anyway, seeing them reminded me of my own early 20s and I was pretty much like them - wanting to try new things out, always ready for a road trip, talking to friends late into the night...not that am very different from that now. I still do like talking to friends late into the night, I still like going on road trips, but now everything has a clearly defined boundary. The friends that visit have a set time allotted for the visit (the concept of "lingering" long forgotten...or what we call "Daira podardu" in Tamizh :), the road trips that we plan are anything but impromptu and people have their own preferences, some of which they would rather not sacrifice even for a day. So, everything has to be planned - where we eat, when we eat, where we visit, even a visit to a coffee/ice-cream shop has to be co-ordinated prior to the trip...

Sooo, where does that leave 25-30 somethings like us? The 9-5 people who look forward to weekends to relax because their weekdays are monotonous and in the process of relaxing creating yet another monotonous-routine for weekends...?

I don't know. I guess in a way, this is the life that we worked hard for but we had just pictured it differently...

All I know is that I am grateful to the unexpected visits, the long conversations, the late-night parties and the "lingerings" that still manage to occur in my life :)

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Object Oriented Thinking.

If you are not programatically inclined, the code below just proves the point that I spend the major part of my day thinking thoughts that are not really worth thinking (you might want to read the stuff in green though). I spend the few precious minutes left behind (if any) thinking the thoughts that I really ought to be thinking. So why did I post this class below if I know the result already?

Because this is one crazy space (nothing extraordinary goin' on up there) and I plan to maintain it that way :p

/*
* Class to estimate how I end up spending all the time
* in my life. Best results when program is executed every
* 6 months and results compared.
*/
package com.lex.rs.thoughts;

public class ThoughtsOfRS
{
public static final boolean confused = true;
public static final long SECONDS_IN_DAY = 43200;
public static final long MAX_TRIVIAL = 10000;
public static final long MAX_RANDOM = 5000;
public static final long MAX_CRITICAL = 5000;
public static final long MAX_PAST = 5000;
public static final long MAX_FUTURE = 5000;
public static final long MAX_HYPOTHETICAL = 5000;
public static final long MAX_INDIA = 5000;

//Variable introduced after k explained that my previous class
//assumed I would think trivial thoughts all day long!

protected long actualTrivialTime = 0;

ThoughtsOfRS()
{
//Note that this does not honor the SECONDS_IN_DAY field.
while(confused)
{
think();
}
}

public void think()
{
initTrivialThoughts();
initRandomThoughts();
initCriticalThoughts();
initPastThoughts();
initFutureThoughts();
initWorthyThoughts();
}

public void initTrivialThoughts()
{
long startTime = System.currentTimeMillis();
brain.getTrivialThoughtsFromCache();
brain.processTrivialThoughts();
brain.recheckProcessing();
brain.storeChurnedThoughtsToCache();

long endTime = System.currentTimeMillis();

actualTrivialTime += endTime - startTime;

if (actualTrivialTime > MAX_TRIVIAL)
{
brain.storeChurnedThoughtsInLongTermMemory();
addToLoadForTomorrow();
actualTrivialTime = 0;
return;
}
else
{
initTrivialThoughts();
}
}

//Similar methods for random, future, past, hypothetical and
//critical thoughts in decreasing order of importance.

public void initWorthyThoughts()
{
long otherTime = MAX_CRITICAL + MAX_FUTURE + MAX_HYPOTHETICAL;
otherTime += MAX_INDIA + MAX_PAST + MAX_RANDOM + MAX_TRIVIAL;
long worthyTime = SECONDS_IN_DAY - (otherTime);
//As of current estimate, I get a whopping 3200 seconds to
//think all of my worthy thoughts !
}
}
/*
* If the GOF ever read this program, they would definitely publish this
* as a classic antipattern. Oh well, as long as I get my name on a published
* book...*sheepish grin*
*/

/*
* If you work with me, just fyi this is my evil twin who doesn't know a
* thing about programming.
*/

/*
* And if you are wondering about the weird green and yellow color theme (I know this link is not blue, but humor me and click it anyway :p)
*/

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