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Showing posts with label woman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label woman. Show all posts

December 10, 2011

The way I am.

So in my family, we have this term "AKS". I am not really sure who came up with the acronym but it stands for "Aala kandaa samudram" and it denotes the trait in some people that makes them dance to the tunes of someone. The someone can be someone we met by chance or a visitor or a relative dropping by for the evening. If you are an AKS, in a few minutes, you would act as if your world only comprised of this new person and their every wish is your command.

In Bits slang (actually, it is a pretty common slang), we had a "sort of an" equivalent -- Kadalai. A senior once explained the difference between talking and kadalai. If you cut classes for your "talk", it's kadalai. If you forgot to say hi to your friend walking past you, it's kadalai. If you just skipped dinner at Meera bhavan for the talk, it's kadalai. Or if you came running back to the bhavan to make it just in time for the 11 PM curfew or stood there begging the watchman to let you in without signing, yup, definitely kadalai! Anyway, AKS is sort of kadalai but platonic in nature.

An extension to being an AKS is being someone who wants people around all the time and I firmly belong to this extended circle. Sometimes, I think I should return back to India to see if I feel more comfortable just hearing people around me...but that's another story.

Once k (unfairly, if you ask me) blamed me for making him overly people-wanting just like me. He doesn't get why there are certain things that I just won't do alone (and I tell him, (wo)man is a social being, the last I checked -- not just virtually social!) like eating alone.

Now that we are on the topic of eating, it demands its own paragraph! The standard rule in our house is that dinner is a family affair. Everyone needs to be at the dining table, books and tech-toys put away, the idea being that dinner-time is a congenial, healthy together time where we eat leisurely in peace and share some food and laughter. In reality, it turns out to be a time when k or I make up ludicrous stories to keep r~ from pouring the sambhar on herself or warning her for the 98th time that she or Simba will get timeout if she insists on washing her face with apple juice but you get the point.

Going back to the eating alone bit. I don't think men are made to eat alone. Eating is what I call a together activity like going to a coffee shop or cooking. In the case of cooking, I make an exception -- I either cook while on the phone or like cooking with k. He doesn't think that's a great idea. He likes having the kitchen completely to himself when he cooks (like a King (who cooks) or a Chef)!

(Reminds me of how girls always go to the rest room together while I haven't heard a man ask another if he wants to use the rest room -- k especially doesn't get this.)

I don't like watching movies alone. I don't even know why that is because you are focusing on the screen not on the other person but that's the way its wired in my brain.

I don't like walking into a new place (work is fine but if its to socialize then it's not) alone.

I don't like staying home or staying anywhere else alone with baby. It's ok if the other adult is just staring at the ipad or reading a book, it matters. Coming to books, that's probably one of the few things I don't mind doing alone.

Basically the "together" list gets pretty long and sometimes I wonder if its the AKS in me that wants to share the activity with someone else or if there are other women out there who are like me. I don't think its growing up in India that's the reason for this umm...trait because k is perfectly fine doing his thing in his space, alone (with his ipad). It's not one of those psychological single child etc thing either because I grew up with l~ and my parents spent a lot of (if not all) their time focusing on their kids...I guess its just the way I am :)

August 13, 2009

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!

February 01, 2007

Are we there yet?

No. Not now, not ever. We are never where people assume we are or even where we assume we should be. So, what exactly am I talking about?! Time and age, to give you a short (cryptic?) answer.

I’ve seen it happen too often for me to ignore it. When I reached my 20s, I couldn’t believe that I was no longer a teenager. When I graduated with a Master’s degree, I couldn’t believe that I was a working professional and not a PIGS (Poor Indian Graduate student) anymore. Two batches of students had successfully started or perhaps even finished their Graduate study by the time I graduated! I was actually advising them about courses and I just finished being on the receiving end of the same advice!

My office colleague once told me, “You know, I was here in this play pen with my 1 year old daughter and someone there called me a mommy and I didn’t respond. It took me sometime to realize that I was the mommy now!”

Me? I am going to be 30 in a few years, the big three-O. Liquor Barn has a whole aisle dedicated to birthday jokes, caps, greetings that convey pretty much the same messageyou are no longer climbing the hill; you have begun descending the other side of the hill. Yes, I have heard the adage - You are as young/old as you think you are. And then again, are you? It would be quite silly of me to act like a teenager now but that's how I feel (want to be?)...

I remember when I received my first mail addressed cheerily to Mrs.Shah and I just did not make the connection. “Mrs? That mail is not for me. I am just a girl.” A girl trying to adapt to being a woman, still…8 years have passed since I was a teenager and I am still adapting. And before I can adapt to being a woman, an adult, I will soon be a mom and then an aunt and so on.

We are never there. Are we?
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