November.......

November, a time when another year is almost coming to an end, people are already making plans for the New Year, the weather is beautiful and brings in much relief from the hot Indian summer, the leaves of a few trees have turned into red and gold giving the entire neighborhood a romantic charm perfect for those memorable photo shoots; a time for introspection of the year passing by and a time for festivities and plans. 

For me November is a special month, special, coz in November is the birthday of a lady who I owe my life to....my mother.... a super talented woman. From the time that I can remember, she has always been good at all things ladylike, a good cook, a wonderful host, an excellent mother. When she was young she was good at knitting, stitching, sewing, reading tons of books, cooking yum food and doing up the home and yet be always well turned out in spite of managing two children. As for me, never getting more than a ‘B’ grade in the craft and SUPW classes, and a ‘C’ in drawing classes, I could never really match up to her. As she turns sixty seven this year, I can confidently say that she still is much better dressed than I am, I consider her a picture of elegance and grace.

So the benchmark for me was really high, and I don’t think I could get half as close in being as efficient as her. As I was growing up, she tried her best to teach me all the nuances that she excelled in, but I was a poor student. The cross stitch project that she made me start in my sixth standard was kept pending till finally she gave up trying and it was used as a dusting cloth, the sweater that I had promised to gift my Dad on his fifty third birthday couldn't have been possible without her knitting half of it to help me out of this difficult assignment.  As for cooking, well she did manage to blackmail me to learn that a bit. The only thing that excited me was sewing. So while was in college, I would get fabric and get her to cut it for me while I’d stitch it over the weekend and I’d have a new outfit for Monday morning, sewing was something I would do happily, but not perfectly. The first time I tried sewing, was in school and I had landed up having passed the needle through my finger and sat crying till she came and pulled it out of my hand, thankfully it was the manually operated machine of the olden days, and it’s scary to think of the outcome if I had been using a motorized machine. Not that I am a tomboy, but somehow, during my growing up years I loved to spend more time in playing with my pets and looking after them and reading lots of books. While she loves meeting people and socializing, I am the completely shy kinds who prefers to be by herself to the extent that some people misunderstand and think that I am either snooty or plain cold, quite unlike a person who has always had a job that required a lot of interaction with a whole bunch of people should be.

She had spent most of her married life in Shillong and in the colonies where everyone knew everyone and  had a lot of friends there. Post retirement, when we moved to Delhi, my parents found it difficult to adjust initially, but after a couple of years she bounced back and today she has a circle of friends where she socializes often, whereas my father has found a friend in the television, making sure that he catches the latest news bulletins at least three times a day. Even at this age she goes for regular walks in the morning and evening and gets worried every time the weighing scales moves a little more than where it is supposed to sit.

I have had her as my support system all my life.

While at work, it was a routine to pour out my day to day happenings to her and then she would come out with completely professional advice.  There were times when I would sulk and she would tell me that I was being unprofessional in behaving like that and so on and so forth. She would be neutral in her feedback and not support me blindly. This is in spite the fact that she has been a housewife all her life. When I decided to give up my job, she was the first person who kept asking me ‘Are you sure, you want to do this?’

Well, living up to being her daughter is a difficult task and I am yet to catch up to being anywhere close to that. So this year in November, I decided to start something new as a way of saying 'Thanks' to my mother; As it is, these past six months off from work are now beginning to get on to me and I really had to find something worthwhile to do while the children were away at school. So one fine day I went out and bought a sewing machine leaving my husband wondering as to what I was up to. My next trip to the market and I bought some fabric, only a few to start with. My childhood experiences have taught me well not to get super excited coz if I get bored midway of the new assignment, all of it would go waste, the plan is to take one step at a time. Along with the fabric came the threads and the laces. The children were really impressed with all the new stuff and they wanted turns in using the machine, so I had to wait till they were off to school and then I started out, the first few cushion covers that I stitched came out okay.  And so I decided to send them to her as a ‘Thank you’ coz she was the one who had first taught me to sew.

The cushions were packed neatly and handed over to the courier and I waited for the next two days for her to call saying she had received them.

I wanted to surprise her and also was dying to know her reaction on seeing them. On the second day at around three in the afternoon, the phone rang and I picked it up excitedly, I knew she had received the package. And she started ‘Did you really make them?’ I was ecstatic, from the tone of her voice; I knew she had liked them, but the truth was that they certainly were not up to the mark, so I told her that I would be sending her better ones, once I improved in making them.

So, while I find what to do next, here’s to my new rendezvous ...........how successful it is going to be, I don’t know, but for my Mom’s sake, I better ensure that I do well J

Beyond the serene shores......

The sun has set and there’s a crimson blush

The shores are serene but the heart is forlorn

Another day tormented by reminiscences of the yore

Another day filled with anguish burns the core

Thoughts of the past explode as one lends a sigh

There’s more to what meets the eye

Flowing tears has blurred the vision

But this, alas! Was the best decision

He has a sad smile as he reflects on the last bond  

He had turned back but she didn't respond

She cared for him or so he thought

But today in his mind he was full of doubt

There is warmth in the hearth and cheerful noises all around

But sadness blinds the eye and deafens all sound

 If only she’d sensed the hurt underlining his smile

If only she would've walked back that extra mile

Time has passed and life has moved on

Yet when darkness prevails, the heart is torn.

Braveheart

She walked pensively as she tugged onto the broken umbrella trying her best to save herself from the heavy downpour. There was a strange melange of emotions and it felt as if the heavens were crying for her that day. It had been one more disastrous morning, one more dark dawn with one more round of thrashing that he’d often resort to if he did not find money for his daily alcohol. She was struggling through the puddles and tiny streamlets formed by the rain water as her eyes were blurred by the tears that flowed from them.

A few minutes later, she knocked on the teak framed door and two excited children ran out to welcome her. She quickly wiped her tears and broke into a smile. It was as if all her worries had suddenly melted away in the tiny hands that held onto to her hand and pulled her into their home. Here she was in another world; there was no time to fret as the school bus would soon be honking outside. The little boys had to be readied and fed and taken to the bus stand. The dog was waiting when she returned from the bus stop, it was his turn to be walked and fed now. The parents of the little children were off to work and would return only in the evening. All chores completed, she now settled down with a cup of tea, as her thoughts went back to where it had all started twenty years ago.

The rustic village where she grew up was where she was considered very pretty, and everyone thought that she could easily get the most eligible bachelor to marry her.  Alas! Fate had planned something else planned. She was married early, not to an eligible bachelor, but to a drunkard and a tormentor. Within a year she was the mother of a child. With her life already a mess and another soul to support, she decided to fight back. A few neighbors had helped her get her first job at a factory. The sum was paltry, but it gave her the independence from the miseries bestowed on her by her so called husband. The child was growing up fast and so were her requirements and the factory money was not enough. She had tried to save a bit from her small sum, but he would always smell it out from wherever it was hidden and use it to fund his drinks. She spoke to her friends about doing something else that could fetch her more money and so ended up working as a housemaid before leaving for her regular day job.

This is how she connected with me through a family friend when I was looking for a maid. Our first meeting was a tad difficult as she didn't know my language and I didn't know hers, but we managed and soon she was hired as a maid for our home. After the birth of my elder son, we offered her to work as a full time helper to take care of the child and the home so that I could join back work. This also meant that she would have to give up her job at the factory. She agreed and was soon an all time favorite of my son. She loved him and would be by his side the whole day. The initial days were a struggle as language proved to be a major hindrance and it took a good six months for me to master her language, by which time, she too had begun to understand bits of the Hindi and English that we spoke.  She was ambitious and though she was happy working at our place, she also had dreams for her daughter who she wanted to do well in life and not struggle the way she had been doing.

Something about her clicked and as years passed, our house became completely dependent on her. By the time we had our second child, she had taken up most of the responsibilities and, she became more like a family member, except for the fact that her husband didn't mend his ways. The story at her home was the same.

Today as she sat reflecting on the morning episode with him, she received a call from her daughter. Her husband had packed his bags and left, leaving the two of them to fend for themselves. This is when she took a big decision; she wasn't going to cry any more than she already had. This time she would fight back. She waited till evening to get back home and then she did something most women find difficult to do. She decided that she would not look for him or call him back. She had anyway been feeding him all these years as he had stopped contributing to the house altogether. In a society like ours, where domestic violence is  prevalent  in almost all strata and is often silently brushed under the carpet, here was one women who, given her struggle to fend for herself and her daughter, had chosen to fight it out, not caring about the stigma attached to a single women. There was a lot spoken about this in her village when she visited there, but she knew she was right and decided to stand by her decision.

Her struggle did not end there, as after a few months her brother too passed way and so the responsibility of taking care of her aged parents came on her shoulders. There were four people to take care of now and so that meant that she needed more money. She asked if she could take up cooking at our place so that we would pay her some more and also if we could permit her to take up another job during the day till the children were in school and we let her do that. Her struggle was now visible on her face, as she would complain of aches and pains. She would complete all the work at our home and rush to the other house to quickly finish the chores there and head back to our place to take care of the children till we returned from work. Probably what kept her going was her love for our children and their reciprocation of the same.

Years have passed and her daughter is now happily married with two children of her own. Her husband did try to get the villagers to intervene to convince her that they stay together again, but she did not agree. It was he who had chosen to walk out, so there was no way that she was going to call him back. And where was he when she was struggling to get the funds for their daughter’s wedding or when she struggled to put the house rent together each month, she asks.

Her struggles are not over yet, but looking at her fight from then to now and how she has adapted herself to whatever life had to offer her, she is a clear winner. Today our children are big enough to take care of themselves, yet she works with us but her dreams and ambitious have yet not ended. She now dreams of having her own tiny shop selling fast food. She has come a long way from struggling to make a proper meal earlier, to now, when can cook North Indian Rajma and Kadhi, South Indian Rasam and Sambar, Chinese noodles and gravy or Pastas, she can manage all of these and more.

Wondering, why did I choose to write about my maid ?

Well, coz, as years have passed, there’s lot that I've learned from her; her ability to smile in spite of all the odds that life offered her,  her love for my children, her honesty and self respect , whenever, she needed money, she would take up an additional chore and not take it as a charity. And above all, her willingness to learn and achieve more, the fast food store being her new dream.

A society that is filled with women who are filled with self pity and who quietly face all tortures meted out to them and refuse to retaliate, here is one woman who chose to fight the odds. Coming from a small village, being new to city life, she not only managed to take care of herself independently , but also had a good wedding arranged for her daughter, and has managed to foot the hospital bill for the birth of her grandchildren, this she says was her responsibility according to their community.

Yes, like all other people, I too have my grievances about my maid, but they are far smaller when compared to how much she has contributed to our family. She is as old as I am or could be younger too, but her life’s struggles have been far more than mine and I totally respect her for the way she has handled each one of them. She may come from a different stratum in society, but what connects me with her is that she is a woman and a fighter who lives with dignity.

Today as I speak about her or others like her, I realize that, all of them have similar stories, so while we complain that our maids don’t work well, or are taking too many offs, they are actually struggling to make ends meet, some managing the home without their husbands and some working together with them. Given a choice this is the last thing they would want to do, but this job is important for them as it means independence to them and a means to their meet their ends.

Innocence....................

Two gentle souls fill the air with cheerful resonances. Their naughty mannerisms, their innocent jokes, their cuddly hugs, have given life a whole new meaning and along with that is the realization of a huge responsibility, of being able to give them a good upbringing enriched with high values. Today, I tried to put down my thoughts on this beautiful child-mother relationship.

Tiny hands hold my fingers

Trustingly grip the little wonders

The heart skips a beat

As the innocent eyes meet

And carefree smiles

Remove worries for miles

Tiny hugs greet the soul

It doesn't matter if one has not met the goal

Doesn't matter if one’s rich or poor

After all, you are their mommy dear

Doesn't matter if you are fair or dark

Coz Mommy, you are your angel’s star

A tiny tear rolls down the cheeks

Overcome with all the love it receives

The head bows down in a silent prayer

Lord, give me the strength to handle with care

Their fragile hearts may never despair

Tiny dreams will soon have wings

 And they will go on to do their own things

The sun shall set upon today’s youth

While new horizons open up for the not so tiny brood

Wrinkled faces shall hold up with pride

Every time their angels strive

To win, without letting their values dive

They find their place in the sun

And come home with the trophies won

Yet when they are in the dark and cold

They come back to their mother’s hold

A place where every child feels safe

A place where there is never a room for hate.

Fighting the odds.....

A long bus ride along the winding Western Ghats lined with coffee plantations brought us to Coorg, a small town known for its home stays that are willing to let you enjoy the plantation life under the clear and carefree skies and raw wilderness. A place which is surrounded by forests and gurgling streams, where people light bonfires at night and watch the fireflies light up the horizons, where many an evening is spent playing their favorite game – football and where entertainment still means a trek in the wild or a day spent at fishing, where mobile signals are hard to get, thus, giving us every opportunity to escape from the humdrum of city life.

 We arrived at the estate owned by a middle aged gentleman and his family – it was so large that by the time he had finished telling us of the area that belonged to him we were wondering how he managed all of it. But Coorgis are a nice lot and the people are honest and he had been around this place for a while, so it had been easy for him.

After the initial conversations and welcome drinks, we were asked to carry our bags down a slope till we approached a tiny flat clean space filled with colorful tents much like in the movies; we were excited. A bunch of sixty people, all of us were really looking forward to the next two days of fun at this corporate outdoor activity. We soon settled down in the tents excited at the thought of spending the evening in this wilderness. This was going to be very different from our regular corporate schedule.

By late evening it was dark and all we had was torches to guide us, that’s when the organizers asked us to line up for a nature walk – ‘A nature walk in the dark, you must be kidding?’ we thought. But no, they were serious and soon we were heading into the jungle. We were asked to be very quiet so that we could ‘enjoy’ the sounds emanating in the night. ‘Enjoy?’, it felt like a horror story and they kept hissing instructions ‘please be careful if you feel something cold touching your feet, it could be a snake and try to stay on the track, if you move off track, you might be attacked by leeches.’ We froze, and held each other’s hands and we moved forward, chanting ‘Om Namo Shivay’ at least I did, though a few brave souls did declare that they were ‘cool’ with this.

 It was a good half an hour before we were back at the camp only to be welcomed by the warmth of a bonfire. We forgot all about the scary walk and enjoyed the rest of the evening singing songs and sharing stories. This was fun; it was a clear sky with thousands of stars twinkling down on us and a mild breeze refreshing our tired faces and the sound of the tiny stream flowing down the other end in the background. We wound up early as we had a long trek planned for the next day. I came back to the tent really happy. Couldn't have ever done something like this on my own, but thanks to this trip I knew I was going to cherish this forever.

The next morning after a quick breakfast, we lined up for our trek. We knew this couldn't be difficult as we had done treks earlier too, but they weren't letting us away with it so easily, so the deal was that we would be trekking up to the first hill top and from there to the next and our return would be by rappelling down the second one. ‘Rappelling and me?’ What with my heavy weight and never exercised body, I could never make it and if I failed, I would be the subject of many a gossip sessions in office. I tried to chicken out, but it was too late, we were already half way up the first hill and since this was not a regularly used track, the trail left behind was very faint so there was every chance of getting lost if I tried to return alone. I really had no choice but to move uphill, sometimes on my own and sometimes by being pushed up by my colleagues who were very helpful. Another thing that kept me going was the fear of being left behind in this wilderness, so I had to match my pace with everyone else’s.

Trek went on well and now was the big one – rappelling....we were given ‘time off’ before we started, when our guides were informed by the locals that they had seen a snake at the rappelling site. ‘Thank God!’ I thought, glad that it was going to be cancelled after all. My prayers weren't heard at all and the snake was soon removed so that we could complete our task. As I approached the site, I was almost shuddering in fear, how would I do this? ‘What if the rope snapped?’ ‘What if I just fell flat?’ ‘What if the gear didn't fit me?’ Soon the person before me went down and next was my turn......

Step one – put on the gear...the gear fitted me perfectly.... ‘Thank God’ and now I was holding the ropes with the rest of the office staring at me. I guess even they had the same fears like mine – ‘Will she make it?’ The lady guiding us at the bottom of the site kept asking me to look down so that I could have an estimate of where to go. One look at the bottom and I knew I had to move fast and get over with it as soon as possible. The longer I kept myself hanging there, the longer would the fear overtake me. So there I was moving downhill, not quite like a professional, but successfully nevertheless. This was the end of my first attempt at rappelling and once I had touched base, I could hear my colleagues clapping and congratulating me. ‘Yep, I had done it, with my fears, my heavy weight, my thousand excuses, I had still done it.’

Today, when I look back and think of this episode, I feel quite proud at this feat and secretly give myself a pat my back. Had I actually chickened out as per my plan, I would not be writing this today and imagine I would have gone back to office after a two day trip with no adventure and learning.

I don’t know if I would ever volunteer to do anything like this again, but if a situation arises, I know I am better equipped to face it.......  Thanks to my team and yes my willingness to ‘give it a try’.

Rakshabandhan....!!

I was a year old when you arrived

An innocent face filled with mischief revived

You played pranks on me galore

But without you my world was a bore

I was a girl and you were a boy

Yet we boxed each other

When we fought for the same toy

But when someone tried to harm the other

We hit back like a team no other

Years went by and we grew up

Our pranks made way

For secrets we’d never give up

Roles were reversed and you became

My guide and mentor who’d never complain

As I was stepping into a new life

That of a daughter-in-law and a wife

There you were standing by my side

As I was stepping out of our home

Lots of emotions I was trying to overcome

You held my hand as I cried

While your own tears you tried to hide

We went on to live our lives

Juggling our various responsibilities we strive

We may not be able to meet often

But if anything were to happen,  I know

You will always be with me, my Bro’

And each year as I tie Rakhi on your hand

I thank the Lord for Blessing me

With a gift so grand!!

One of the best gifts of the Indian culture is the celebration of a beautiful relationship, that of a brother and a sister. A bond that stands by us throughout our lives – as our Best friend, as our confidante, as a prankster,  as a protector, as our support system through our childhood and adolescence, through our first love and our first heartbreak, through our youth and middle age, someone who knows our strengths and weaknesses and yet continues to be with us unconditionally to guide us and to be guided, to laugh at us and to be laughed at, to help us come out of our mistakes and to hold great pride at our achievements, but more than anything else, to be there with us always...!!

Buddy......

Lost him to Cancer today 6th Sept 2013........stared helplessly as he sighed for the last time ...... Buddy where ever you go from here, hope you have a great life...... you will always be in our memories...Always!!

Love you tons sweetheart.....R.I.P 

He came wrapped in a soft cloth in a red basket on 9^th Mar’2001, a significant date because, he was my first wedding anniversary gift, an animal lover all my life, this was the best gift my husband could have got me.  He was, a ball of off-white fur when he came home, a small baby, whining because he had just been separated from his mother, but all he needed was a little pampering and he was back to his jumpy self again.

Cerelac packets were bought and a whole vaccination schedule worked out for him. When he was bought we were informed that he was a Pomeranian pup, but our first visit to the vet told us that he was a Labrador pup, and the one after that finally told us that he was a German Spitz, a name given to a cross between a Pomeranian and any other breed ( I think)....but as he grew up, he looked like a very handsome mongrel....whatever the breed, it really didn't matter as he was now a part of our family and no way were we going to let him go. We had named him Buddy, our best friend.

Suddenly there was so much life in the house; he had a character of his own ...it felt like we had a new member in the family who had to be included in all our plans. He hated to be out in the sun and would retreat to the nearest shaded corner as soon as he was taken out. He soon started teething and left his mark on everything – the dining table legs had his teeth marks, the sofa, the bed, clothes that he could lay his hands on, chews, toys, everything was bitten.

The first time that we had to travel out of station, we decided to take him with us. So there he was in Delhi meeting his extended family, my cousins, aunts and uncles, but the Delhi heat had stressed him out and we promised never to bring him out of his comfort zone again. After that whenever we had to go out, we would ask our maid to visit him daily and take care of him while we were away. He had grown up to be a pretty ferocious guy, and till today hates to be addressed as ‘kutta’ (the Hindi translation for ‘dog’). Whenever we tease him and call him kutta, he gets agitated as if he is being insulted.

 We were worried when we were bringing our first child, Vansh,  home from the hospital, I was still weak and couldn't play with him like I did earlier and  also had to take care of the baby. The day the baby was brought home, Buddy was excited, he wanted to sniff the baby from near which I let him do once and after that he calmed down.  I had thought that he would be jealous of the little one, but on the contrary, he became extra caring, kept himself away from the baby as if he knew that he should not hurt the little one.  When Vansh started crawling, he would keep following Buddy around the house and at times even pull his tail, but Buddy would patiently let him do that. And Aryan, our second child, was a terror, who would always want to sit on Buddy and ride on him and we would be scared that he would bite, but Buddy was a good big brother and would be gentle. He would growl to scare Aryan off, but never bit him.

When we adopted Champ (our little daschund and the youngest child in the family), Buddy was a bit jealous on the first day and refused to let him come near him, but later he became his mentor and for Champ he was like his entire support system. Champ would refuse to move out of the gate for his evening walk if Buddy didn't accompany him. They would play together on the carpet, in fact, Champ was the only one who was allowed to steal Buddy’s chews and get away with it.

As time went on we saw Buddy grow from a playful child to an aggressive youngster to a caring elder brother to my children and Champ, to now a twelve year old. Thankfully even the boys are very fond of him and in my heart he will always be special. Today he is an ailing patient and I am doing all that I can to make life comfortable for him. Dogs are known to have a lifespan ranging from ten to fifteen years and how much ever I try, I am not able to prepare myself to let him go. Prayers, medicine, hospitals, we are doing all we can to save him, he looks healthy except for the pain in his bloated stomach and his arthritis that has slowed him down. 

Buddy, an innocent face with mischievous eyes and a commanding personality, today (1st Aug 2013) he is old and sick, but still keeps his terror. He barks and limps to the door every time the doorbell rings. People in the apartment still make way for him when he goes down for his walk and the children are scared of him. My heart breaks to see him so weak, but all I can do is to be with him during his illness and just pray that he is back to his normal self soon........

Wish I could have saved him ...did everything I could, but was too late!!