Stepping Back

This Christmas season, Andrew & I thought it would be fun to give the kids a small gift each day, counting till Christmas day. It was more fun for me the first day, as I anticipated the wide-open eyes, little hands hurrying to open their presents, hugging their gifts and the bright smiles. Day 1 was a success.

On Day 2, Liana woke up asking for her present. The eyes were still wide, the hands hurried to untie, a big grin, then a glance at her brother's gift (Same toy, different color) and Whoa! she started throwing a fit that she didn't like her toy and wanted Ryan's. Ryan understanding that his toy was in demand held on to it tight, and repeated his favorite word, "NO, NO, NO!" to his sister.

Disappointed, I realized my kids were yet to learn the value of things. When trying to talk to them didn't help, I put on my parenting shoes, and the toys were given a "time out". There was no Day 3 and hopefully my kids learnt that they weren't entitled to them. They had to earn them with good behavior.

From a tiny weeny baby who is fascinated with an ordinary ceiling fan, grows a toddler who chases his own shadow and finds mundane things marvelous. And then, these little Munchkins turn into little monsters. Exactly when they grow out of this stage and start comparing, lying, talking back, and develop an attitude is a mystery. The first time you realize it, it creates a vague, throbbing pain in your heart. Our babies, are not exactly the babies we knew any longer. A magical era has forever ended.

But we recognize it instantly, when we see it in other kids, when they cross the fine line between smartness and over smartness; when they manipulate, or bully. With our own, realization is a little late in dawning. And hence, we are late in correcting bad behavior when it happens.

An everyday sight is a parent saying fondly to their offspring, "Say hello to Uncle and aunty...C'mon, uncle has come only to see you..." While some kids say hello, or at least smile, some don't look up from their phones/tablets. A few extremes push away or slap their parents. Unsmiling and aggressive children are so common today, that 'Special needs' children go undetected until its late.

With sons, a mother might ask, "Why are you so angry?" When that child is as young as 2, it is ridiculous. Strangely, I am yet to see a mother ask her daughter that. Then again, we are quick to judge others, but quicker to apologize for our own. "I am afraid, he isn't well"... "She usually needs a little more time." We rush in with some excuse so that our kids don't fall in the eyes of others. But, how many of us remember our parents apologizing for our behaviors when we were young?

Somewhere, by trying to set right the wrongs our parents did, we have made a bigger mistake. By trying to make up absence with presents; by trying to be friends instead of parents;by treating children as adults we have made a graver mistake. Somewhere by exchanging the rod with bribes we have fallen short of our God given role of setting them right.

Of late, we are told not to correct our children in the presence of others. Not correcting a child who mimics an adult in his presence, is plain shirking away from parental responsibility. Everyone, including the child can sense the parent's pride when they mock roll their eyes and say, "Kids these days". It isn't cute to anyone else, it shouldn't be cute to the parent. If corrected immediately, quietly, firmly but kindly, the child will understand a valuable lesson that day. They will know that while they can trust their parent to stand by them, they will also be punished for doing wrong. They will try not to disappoint their parents.

While we all teach our kids to be honest, they do try to get away with cheating in games. It's only a game, is an often-heard excuse. But, it is important to teach the child that cheating even in a game is not acceptable. Learning to accept defeat in a game helps to cope up with emotions linked with failure - It equips them for facing bigger loses in life. It will also make them play harder, and to do better. 

It is necessary for today's parents to be hawk-eyed at all times, and watch out for their children. We are told to be there for our kids, to catch their eyes in a crowd and smile. But that way, they grow up too self-conscious, and too safe. We are too exhausted to do all this, all the time. So, we give in and strap them down with a Mobile phone or a Tablet. That way, we can be certain they will be safe. Mobile phones, Tablets and Television are powerful devices, by the way. They can make our children do, what we cannot. But this is not doing any of us any good in the long run. Kids were meant to run around like monkeys. They lose on learning valuable life skills every time they are seated before the screen.

We aren't the first set of parents in the world. Neither are our kids the only children in the universe. We spend all our time making sure our kids are safe, get a fair (special) treatment, isn't hurt physically and mentally. We imagine we'd step back when they grow. We don't realize that with our new parenting mantra, our kids would grow only in size, not in skills.

Dear parents, our parents didn't get it all wrong. You and I turned out just fine. Maybe not perfect the way we could have been. But then, how long will we sit back and blame them? We have been adults long enough and we should be able to fix it, if it isn't right. After all, don't we want our kids to learn that it is never too late, and to never give up?

The clock is ticking!

Kokkarakko

      As a kid, I was always curious if an English cock really crowed 'cock-a-doodle doo!' Cocks from where I come from, go 'Kokkarakko'. And one such fine fellow is who I write about today.

      Not a live one, I am afraid. Being a foodie, my first thoughts turn to spicy grilled chicken with Kubbos and onion rings, or  a plate of '65' with mint chutney, or our good, old 'Drums of heaven'.

      10 years ago, I had the bestest (Superlative, mine!) plate of chicken Biriyani in a restaurant in Bengaluru. It was when it was still Bangalore. My friends and I were visiting the city, and after a long day filled with management talk, looked around for a place to dine. Being so late, every eatery was closing up, but finally, this one restaurant looked inviting with bright lights. Being too exhausted to talk, we all sat around the table, after ordering Hyderabadi Chicken Biriyani and soft drinks. One full decade later, I still remember how it had tasted then - Absolutely Divine! Spicy as hell ... it was perfect. I floated away on my own personal blissful cloud. We went back again the next day. And as the short visit came to an end, I boarded the return train with pleasant memories. Going back for a plate of that biriyani was on my top to-do list.

      But it was 10 full years before I stepped on a train, to visit that unforgettable city. This summer vacation, we wanted to give the kids a taste of our railways. With the excitement of being with friends and family, was the happiness of getting closer to that plate of perfection.

      But, to my dismay, we couldn't locate the place. After all these years, it was probably closed. One of the biggest attractions of the city had ended in a major disappointment.

      Well, short vacation - no time to brood. I moved on to the next best thing - Shopping. Its true. There's nothing like shopping to cheer up a girl. We were at Phoenix Mall, and as shopping is so hunger triggering we went to the food court.

      One of the first joints there was an Andhra restaurant called 'Nagas'. I ordered a Hyderabadi Chicken Biriyani Combo. Back at our table, I took a bite of the food, and 'Mmm! Delicious, with a capital 'D'. It was the same, spice punched flavor as I remember from  the old place. Though I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who cannot tolerate high level spice, it a must try for spice lovers. That, and a bottle of Lipon Iced Tea was like Manna from heaven.

      Thus ended my search for the perfect hyderabadi chicken biriyani. Long live the chef!

My walk with Prof. Elangovan

It was August 2006 when I saw Prof. Elangovan, for the first time. He was a senior, well respected professor of Management at Bharathiar University, Coimbatore.

As one among 60 ambitious, young men and women to join the MBA program at Bharathiar University that year, I stared wide eyed, and respectfully at all the professors seated on the dais.  Among the perfectly dressed, smart looking professors, he seemed quiet and unshowy. There was nothing pretentious in his form or attire.

To me, it was an almost sacred moment. A first time hosteller, I had for the first time in my life decided to become a success academically. My focus on life till then had been fun and play, and I knew I had a lot of catching up to do. Most of them had work experience, or a commerce/Business background. If none of the above, they had a mathematical background. I had last bidden goodbye to horrid maths 5 years earlier by choosing a Science major at school, and an English major for Undergraduation. And naively, I hoped to meet all hardships head-on. I little realized the battles - both personal and academic - that I would brave through, before I could add that coveted degree to my name. 

The first day he came to class, we found him soft spoken. He said he wouldn't call us, 'students' but treat us a 'Managers in training.' We all sat up a little straighter, looking very important. He said there would be no spoon feeding. He was also the Placement Officer, and we looked to him as if every word out of him, brought us one step closer to our big career. He said we would be discussing a certain topic, the next day. 

We all prepared hard for the next class. But the boys brought bad news - stories passed down by seniors in their hostel about what happened to those students who said they had prepared, but failed to answer him. Most of us were sweating after hearing the details. He came in, and said, "All of you close your books! I want only those of you who have prepared for today's class to stay. The rest of you get out." We knew from his demeanor that he meant it. He repeated the warning one more time, with something sounding like "God save you if you remain inside without preparing" I don't know who that brave soul was, who stood up first to leave the room. But then more of them joined until some 10 of us remained seated. This was more than I could take. I got up and hurried out as quickly as I could. About 6 remained, and they were asked to draw their chairs closer to him. I passed by the class some half an hour later, and the sight I saw, made me bless myself for having had the courage to step out in time. 

For the next class, only 4 remained seated. When we all got up to go out, he asked us to stand at the back of the class. He said we shouldn't open our mouths, as we had lost our right to speak after coming unprepared yet again. It's not that we hadn't prepared. It's that nothing could prepare us for what he expected. He was looking for intelligent minds to mould, and to send back to the world. I was one among the huge mass of ordinary minds he received every year.  

With almost everyone standing at the back, we had some very fun times. Making fun of those who remained seated, we could also understand his lectures better. I was calmer, learnt more, and thrived better at the back of the class. There was one instance when he took up a permanent marker to write on the white board. One fellow co-stander in good sense tried to warn him, and was told, "Keep quiet. You lost your right to speak. No, not  one word from you". And continued to write.

The thing was that he used 'Beautiful' irrespective of you being in the 'right' or 'wrong'. It was the sentence which followed his 'Beautiful' that held the key. When someone answered he would say "Beautiful!" and add, "sit down, and cover your mouth if you do not know the answer. Do not open your mouth and blabber, expose your ignorance and confuse others." It would take the person a few seconds to change the smile which had started when he heard, "Beautiful"

And there was the classic, "Keerakaari(woman selling vegetables)" and "pichaikaaran(Beggar)" -  for ladies and gentlemen respectively. This is what he called all unprepared scholars, and I being one of the former,  took great offence to this name branding. Moving on the second year, he asked us all to write anonymous feedbacks. I wrote in mine "It is all well to call us Managers in training, and another to call us "Keeraikaari" and "Pichaikaaran"". In the next class he said, "I received some feedback... one person feels that I should not use such terms with the class. I won't." And we never heard him say it after that.

He was unexpectedly cool too. He always gave full attendance even to those who always stood at the back of the class. Once I had bunked his class, and thinking the class was over, I had entered the lecture hall while looking into my phone. He had taken a few more minutes to end his lecture that day, and while I turned pale, he said, "Good Afternoon" and collected his stuff and left the hall.

I am sure the brilliant ones have much better memories of him to share. I mean no malice, but he was way too intelligent for me. But my memories of him turn for the better in 2008. In year 2, we got to choose our majors, and I selected 'Human Resources' and 'Marketing'. Hallelujah!, I was saved. No more Pain-in-the-neck maths in my life. Although I perfomed better academically, I hadn't managed to escape Prof. Elangovan. He was the one to handle HR classes.

I had by this time realized I was not destined for greatness - at least not just yet. The future was waiting bright, but I had to get my degree and get out of that place fast. Everyone was so learned, I was feeling suffocated.

But I need not have bothered that much. I didn't know my dreams were rapidly coming to an end. That I had bigger things to worry about, than a job offer at the end of the year. A couple of months into year 2, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma, cancer of the lymph nodes, stage 2B. More on that here.

http://vidyascolumn.blogspot.ae/2016/09/the-unwritten-year-of-my-life.html

We informed the university I was unwell and on undefined break. Almost 2 months later, I went back to the university with my parents, and approached every professor individually. One professor asked my dad to take me home and not trouble everyone - and join the next year. The others were sympathetic and helpful. But Prof. Elangovan touched my parents heart by saying, "I will do everything to help. Let the poor child come out of her troubles." And he did. He took my father to the office, and asked the staff to render all help. He spoke comfortingly to my mom, and my parents are still grateful to him. 

When it was time for the university exams, I had a shortfall of attendance, caused by travelling out for treatment often. When everything seemed to go out of hand, Prof. Elangovan spoke passionately on my behalf, and I got to sit for the exams. And I did get my degree. He was God sent. I travelled home the day my exams ended, and I sent him a thank you email. He sent a long, kind reply saying I was blessed to have wonderful parents, and he sent me his blessings, and asked me to stay in touch. 

It's been 9 years now. I haven't been in touch with him after that. It might be that I have no great success story to make him proud of. Although my life is just the way I want it to be, I don't think he would have been pleased with any of his students being a 'happy home maker'. Yes, I know why I always decided against placing that one phone call. "Beautiful!" he would have said, and I wouldn't have known if he really meant it. 

Still, every time I share stories of my MBA and my experience with cancer, I speak highly of him. And that will be my tribute to him. For he passed away yesterday. Everyone has so much to say, of the way he touched all our lives - with his wisdom, goodness and unique way of molding his students. For me, he turned out to be the source of help and comfort of an unexpected kind.  I am glad I have my share of memories of his goodness. He left his mark on so many hearts. We pray for his soul, for his family, and we carry his memory forward.

                                         (Pic. taken from the internet: Prof. Elangovan(Center) being felicitated for his long service with BSMED by Dr. Krishnaraj Vanavarayar, industrialist and philanthropist at Nexus 2015, Coimbatore.)

A Slice of Life!

When I asked Liana to move all her toys from the living room to her bedroom:

When Liana wanted to know why she couldn't give Ryan a time out:

When Liana wanted to go hands-free:

When we arranged a Playdate for the kids, cos its so very important for their development:

Expectation vs Experience

Like how nothing prepares us for that face of ours in our Voter's Id, or a joke that falls flat - the experience is always different from our expectations. Here's a few of mine.


1. Boating at Ooty:

      We were honeymooning at Ooty and DH, the new groom, hired a 8 seater boat for just the two of us. "Privacy," he said. There was a long queue and as we get into our boat a little boy demanded, 'It's just the two of you, take us along.'' His grandmother loudly chided him. ''Hush, they are on honeymoon, they'll want their privacy.'' Everyone congratulated us and asked where we were from, when we had got married, advised us on how many kids we should have, and when. When they were arguing among themselves if it's better for a woman to work or be a stay-at-home mother, the boat started to move. But a very private ride it was, with passers-by in boats smiling and waving at us throughout the ride. Could that be 'Karma'?

2. Hello!

      Two weeks after our wedding, we moved to Dubai. Chruch service here is on Fridays, and on the day before, I took out my new pattu sari, my gold ornaments, and all my accessories. I was going to the Tamil church for the first time after marriage, in a new country. As we got ready for bed, Andrew asked if I had my introduction ready. "Huh?" I asked. "Oh, no!" He said. "I totally forgot. You need to step up to the front, and introduce yourself on your first day. In Tamil, like the pastors speak." I couldn't sleep all night, mentally preparing a speech. I was sitting on pins all through the service the next day, and then the pastor said, "Anyone new for the service today, please stand up." I did, wondering how I'd get past all the people in the pew, and looked desperately at my moral support for help.

"We welcome you, and hope you will actively participate in all Church activities."

"After service, there will be the Youth meeting..." continued the Pastor, while everyone looked amused at my still standing form. "Please be seated," he said turning to me. It was then that I saw Andrew silently shaking with laughter, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. Or maybe they were real tears, I had on my 3 inch pointed heels.

3. Sibling love:

The kids have two train shaped Ride-on toys which they fight over for. The other day, Ryan was playing rough with one of them, galloping on it, like on a horse, when Liana said, "No, Ryan. The floor will break and you will fall in." I was thinking, 'Trust her to look after her little brother,' when she added, "There will be only one train after that, and that will be mine."

Hope you all have a wonderful day, reliving your expectation vs experience moments!

Slim, Taller, Fairest

"I want my photograph taken," I said. "A Portrait."

"I'll have it ready by tomorrow," said the photographer.

"It's been edited?" I asked quietly, looking at my portrait the next day.

"This is how you'd be in fair skin. Very beautiful! " he said, obviously proud of his obvious editing skills.

"I'll take the original. When should I come back for it?"

"But madam, why do you want the original when this is such a beautiful photo of you? Photography can give you what nature cannot. That's our technology. Make use of that"

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Let's pause this story here to read your minds:

"How dare he?"

"Aren't dark skinned people beautiful?"

"Beauty is only skin deep!"

And the like? Let me tell you there is more to it.

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Let's go back to some of my earliest memories...

We would go out together - my father, my mother, my elder brother and I. Almost everyone we meet for the first time, would say in the flow of conversation, "Oh, she took after her dad, didn't she?".

Some background information would be helpful here - My dad is quite dark, my mother is quite fair, my brother leans towards my mother's color and I lean more towards my dad's.

And, now back to our story...

I would be playing with my cousins. Being the only dark one in a family of fair cousins, opened up volumes for conversation. After a possible conversation lull, I would hear subject matter experts tell my mom,

"She's so dark. Have you done anything about it?"

"Try turmeric. It's cooling too. My sister's daughter was so dark, just like her. My sister bathed her in turmeric everyday. Now she is wheatish."

"You haven't made an effort with her. Fruit masks are good. Mash oranges, banana and honey. Apply all over her. Let it dry. After 30 minutes wash it off. She will become less dark, I guarantee you that."

"When you are so fair, it's a shame the boy takes after you and the girl had to take after her father."

"Don't dress her in this color. It makes her look even darker."

"Do something now itself. Try multani mitti, with curd and sandal. Even for fair girls the grooms family ask for a hefty dowry (Dowry being applicable for both arranged and love marriages).

And all this happening in Nagercoil - a town of educated people, in the presence and ear shot of a little girl of 5.

My poor mother would feel guilty for not trying to turn her little ducky into a fair swan. She would then try to work miracles with some wonder paste which I would refuse to apply, and run away from.


---------------------------------

The place of education encouraged this. And the time it was most obvious was during the Annual Day preparation, every year.

Teachers vied with each other to have the fair ones in their dances and programs.  The dark ones to get a role were the teachers own children, teacher's pets (The brainies, and children from socially affluent families). The truly talented but dark skinned girls got a role, possibly as the boy in the dance (the female roles are awarded only for the truly fair, mind you) The other ordinary dark ones, stepped on stage during prize distribution - if they had won a prize.

---------------------------------

I bloomed late, but bloom I did. I became slim and tall, but not fair. They thought they were complimenting me by calling me "Black Beauty".

Fortunately, in spite of all this, I didn't develop a lasting lack of confidence. I must have been thick headed. It's hard otherwise, to escape that bitterness for being born dark. I have never been able to relate to those who told me confidentially how bad we feel to be dark skinned. For, I didn't remember the color of my skin unless when alluded to. It isn't the color of people's skin I noticed when I met someone for the first time.

But at times it did wake in me a sense of guilt for being born dark. Like when a prospective groom's mother asked my mom, if the girl was Wheatish or dark. And then say, "I am sorry. We like your daughter very much. But my son wants a very fair bride." And instead of looking daggers at me for running away from all her fairness treatments, my mother would say that he wasn't the one God intended.

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We are all familiar with:

"My son's marriage is fixed. The girl is slim, tall and fair."

"She is dark, but she is beautiful. He was okay with it, so that's all that mattered."

"She looks like a foreigner. There will be long queue when you start looking for a groom"

How often do we hear this? It's mixed with our blood, this worshipping of the fair skinned.

When my future mother-in-law asked my fair skinned, future husband if he wanted a fair girl, he had said, that skin color didn't matter " And thus I bagged my groom. "No dowry" mindset of the groom was a big plus. There are others like that... And our world continues to go around.

The talk of my skin color stopped the day I got married.

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Only to start again the day my first child was born.

"How is the baby? Like daddy or mommy?"

Well, that's what you get for delivering a child in Nagercoil. But, wait! It seems to be an Indian thing!.

When my daughter was 2, my little 5 year old, fair skinned non-Tamil, Indian neighbor asked me.

"Aunty, why are you all brown, and we are all so fair?"

I didn't have an answer to that. So I said, "What's that? Your mom's calling you."

And she ran back home. Thank God, my daughter was too young to understand!


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My son was born in Dubai. We took him to India when he was 3 months old.

"He is fair," they beamed, as if complimenting me for finally getting it right.

I realized there is no escaping this topic - both the fair and the dark skinned people are equally competent here.

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Another year later, Liana started school. She came home looking very sad one day, and said, "Amma, Mia (name changed, of course) said I am yucky because I am brown."

My heart skipped a beat. That to come out of a 3 year old to another. I tried telling her that the color of the skin didn't matter. That God knew best when he made her that way. That both dark and white chocolate are equally loved.

But the damage was done. Things got worse when she said she didn't like her father because he was fair, and that she likes Tessy (Name changed again) even if she was Brown.

I spoke to her teacher who told the class the story of the multicolor elephant and someother things as well. I hope the children understood about the things in life that count.


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Maybe it's infused into the Indian blood, this love for the fair skin. One can look and act a perfect ogre, and be branded as a beauty just for being blessed with fair skin.

I am not saying that boys should not make that condition. Marriage for many, is a once in a lifetime commitment. And who he wants to marry is his choice. Just like a girl has her say in the matter. 

What I am against is, a whole society, predicting the future of a girl based only on her skin color.

I am against linking fair skin with intelligence, success and goodness.

I am against looking upon dark skin as a flaw, as something lesser which needs to be fixed.

Let us accept children in all their innocence, and women with all their flaws. She doesn't need to be helped up, if she isn't thrown into the water in the first place.  It is her life. Let her be. He knew what He was doing.

How do we fix bigger issues of Gender equality when the girl child is rated on the color of her skin from her earliest moments. When will we realize that irrespective of skin color she will be the apple of her parents eye, the love of her husband, and appear perfect in the eyes of her children?

Tick Tock, goes the clock

      When Liana doesn't eat I pretend to close my eyes and with food in my hand cry out, "Come birdie, eat. Liana doesn't want it!"Liana on tiptoe comes and eats it. There is a happy, impish expression on her face as she tells me with unbridled  excitement that she and not birdie ate it. Such adorableness...but I know the clock is ticking.


      Ryan hurt his thumb and came to me for healing kisses. Today Liana came too, but went away saying it still hurt. Not too long ago, it used to work for her as well. And not much longer before Ryan realizes that magic kisses aren't for real. The clock is ticking.

[Ryan taking a power nap]

[Liana trying on a new hat]

      When I get the kids dressed to go out, Ryan gets his favorite pair of shoes and insists on being helped. Now a days Liana chooses her stuff and ends up wearing clownish outfits and too many accessories. Ryan won't always need my help, and Liana will develop her sense of fashion soon. The clock is ticking.


      Every hour, everyday, I race with time. And Time always comes up triumphant. I always end up losing with every tick of the clock.

      Meanwhile, there is a prayer I say everyday. Thank God for they are mine. Thank you, God, for choosing me to be their mother. I cherish every minute with them and I love them with my life. Amen.

Us & Ours

Did they know,
When you were born;
32 years ago...
The life you would lead;
The roles you would fill;
The generations you would create.

Did you know,
When I was born;
31 years ago...
The day we would meet,
The pages we would fill,
And the lives we would create.

Did we know,
That they'd be born,
Precious gifts from above.
Straight from God's lap;
Liana and Ryan...
And the bonds they now create.

Unleashing and Relearning

      I hear the distant roar of a bike thundering into the night. Then comes the faraway sound of a clock striking two. The kids are asleep near me, but I am wide awake. Armed with a bat, I lie still, listening... knowing they are about. I try not to breathe, for that might alert them to my presence. They come near, and I swing my bat - no one harms my children.

      Liana sits up and says, "amma, neenga enna mosquito nu nenachi adichittinga. (mom, you thought I was a mosquito and hit me with the mosquito bat". Oops, true Pink Panther style! "Sorry, precious. Sleep, baby". Silence ensues. True silence. Perhaps good times are dawning. Filled with love that a mother feels only for her sleeping children, my always faster-than-brain-thinks tongue whispers, "I love you pretty sleeping baby," and she says, "I am awake. Tell Story, amma."

      And all this time the mosquitoes continue to wage their wars. To combat them I have used various commercialized repellents. My mom left the room saying she was allergic to mosquito repellent while the mosquitoes continued with their wine and dance.

      Now and then I hear, "amma,story" to which I tell her that I am trying to recall a good story. Fed up of waiting she wants only bad stories. And finally I hear her gentle snoring. Don't mosquitoes need to sleep too? I desperately need mine. After a while, I must have sent them all to the dark side, for I find myself drifting off to sleep.

      In my dream I show Ryan a tiny Ant. "See, Ryan, " I say. "Ant". He smiles, goes swiftly to it and steps on it with his shoes. I wake up to find both my children up. Ryan is leaning over me with a big grin and catches my nose and pokes my eye. Liana is looking out of the window and eagerly says, "amma, come and see. I'll show you a coconut tree." "Really?" I yawn, feigning excitement. It's almost 6 o'clock; farewell sleep.

      What a huge responsibility are we bestowed upon as parents. The modern parent has to be smart, updated and while bringing up little know-it-alls, be there to protect them from the vices of the mortal and the virtual world.

(Photo: A smiling Mr.Bug who stepped in.)

    And the dream disturbs me. I have often seen Ryan step on insects; so did Liana as a baby. So by instinct, are our babies destructive? Without provocation they hit, break, kill and hurt. They need to be taught to be gentle with other children; with  pets, taught that its bad to break and tear, and that it is wrong to cause pain to another.

      Do we unlearn them only to relearn them as adults under the mask of power and politics and salvation?

     

Summer Escape

      School closed for the summer and we took the earliest flight home. Summer in Dubai is not the least bit kind. And with two kids at home and dear hubby at work, kids turn into monsters and home turns into hell.

      We had a wonderful week in Nagercoil together. Then Andrew had to go back to work. Being a SHAM, the kids and I get to stay for 2 whole months - Until September when the new school year begins.

      It is the time to catch up with everyone. Visit new shops(which reminds me, yet to visit Pothys), take stock of new restaurants and wail over good ones that have closed down. The time we eat our favorite food one by one, over and over again. That time of the year when kids get to bond with grandparents, cousins, uncles and aunts. I had forgotten that coconut trees, mosquitoes and crows which I take for granted, are a novelty to my children. Liana was thrilled to see the school where we had studied, the church we had got married at, the wedding hall, etc.

      Each day brings something fun. We attended weddings; a music concert by String Ensemble, Chennai; had Liana's birthday party, attended other birthday parties; made beads with Liana; met with friends and family. The cherry on top was that I sang as part of a choir after a gap of 15 years.

      With all this, vacation is always a mixed experience. I need this break. It gives me time to be me - without having to worry about the next meal, the next washing or grocery shopping. I don't have to run after the kids to make them eat, keep them engaged or stop them from mischief. I can sit down and play with Liana, without worrying that the sound of laughing and playing will wake up Ryan and thus end our game. I have wonderful in laws and parents who help big time. The children adore them and stay with them even in my absence. I can relax knowing my children are in safe hands.

      But for me, walking the roads I had walked, visiting the places I had been to - nothing is the same. The town I grew up in and lived in for 25 years before meeting Andrew is lonlier, duller and incomplete without him. I let no one see the void I feel inside.  And I find myself counting days. Skype and whatsapp are poor substitute, when loved ones are separated by an ocean.

      I know... How ungrateful. While most would kill for a longer vacation, to be able to stay at home with parents, here I am. I know I should be grateful, and so I pray.

      I begin by thanking God for granting me another day. I thank him for blessing me with four wonderful parents I can always turn to. I praise God for giving me a husband whom I miss every minute, whose one phone call makes my day brighter; my life fuller. He is my waking thought. A man I respect, love and adore, as I promised on my wedding day. Someone I am proud to call mine. I thank Him for my blessed children. I praise God for his abundant grace and mercy.

      And then God made me realize that life is not only about waiting. Each day is a gift and has its own beauty. I could count days, and still enjoy one day at a time. Which I will, by His grace.

What I would tell my 27 year old self...

Giving birth doesn't make you a mother:
      Some get into it immediately, some don't. And it's alright. It took me time to get used to a new school, hostel, work, my role as a wife. In the same way, I need time transform into a mother.

What works for others won't work for you:
      So just listen when advices come in plenty. If it works for you, great. If it doesn't, try something else. Do not, under any circumstance compare your children with others. Most of the people, most of the time, exaggerate about their kid's goodness, swiftness and smartness. As parents, they do get carried away - Bless them! They don't do it intentionally, so it isn't fair to compare your child with their perceived image of their children. If your child is quick in one aspect of development, he will be slow in another. That is nature's way.

Perfections and Imperfections:
      If there is a perfect mother and her perfect children, I am never going to find her. So keep your expectations realistic. Pamper yourself now and then, you deserve it, tough mamma. If you have a spotless house, you compromise on time with your children. If you have time to take a nap, you have a room full of dirty laundry. We are all given only 24 hours in a day, no matter who we are, and no matter how much we strive. What matters is that the children aren't hungry, aren't addicted to TV, that they know how to behave with kids and adults, be kind to siblings, and that they learn to tell the truth. These are the ones that truly matters.

Distraction works magic:
      To make a child stop crying, distract him with a bird.  To make her eat, distract her with a story. To make him to wear his clothes, distract with a song. To make her brush her teeth, distract with a game. Distractions achieve the impossible in a fun and easy way. They achieve the end without resorting to tears, threats and screams. Kisses are distractions too, when they hurt their little toes and fingers.

There is humor in everything:
      It's true. You just need to remember to laugh. We had just gotten home after a long, exhausting day. I left Ryan playing in the living room with Andrew, and went to put Liana to sleep. I had let Ryan without his diaper to air dry for the few minutes I was away. I entered the living room with a fresh diaper in hand, thinking I could rest after I put this on. Andrew was watching the T.V just as I had left him, Ryan grinned on seeing me as usual, BUT there was baby poo all over the floor. ''What's that?'' I asked. ''Why? What happened?'' asked Andrew not realizing he had been sitting on an island surrounded by poo. We broke out laughing and Ryan joined in our laughter. Humor helped. I rushed to wash the baby, Andrew cleaned up the floor. And then we got to rest.

Pee, Pii, Poo, Pum:
      No baby subject is complete without it's share of Pee and Poo. It starts from the hour they are born, and lasts for a few years. The more you struggle with it, the longer you struggle. After one kid has been successfully potty trained, I know my next would be too - When, where and how, I do not know. But he will be trained, and I am satisfied.

Love is Patient:
      To be in plain sight and believe he is hiding; to pull out clothes from the drawer;  to want to listen to the same story over and over again; to bang pots and pans; to play with food and pour juice on herself... we have all done it and forgotten. We eventually grew up, and we will never do it again. So will they grow up. So will they stop doing it. While they do, be there for them, be with them, and cherish it while it lasts. Baby wipes are wonderful things invented for us mommies. So are band aids. Let them get dirty, let them fall down and get hurt. Let them chew on grass, step on dirt, and tear their clothes. Let them run naked around the house. Don't let's rob them of life's simple pleasures.

Love Forgives:
      The night is as much a time for regrets, as it is for rest. But forgive yourself - it gives you a clear perspective. Forgive yourself, for you are only human. Forgive yourself, because you learnt from it. Forgive yourself, you know you can't undo it. Above all, forgive yourself for you tried, and still keep trying. Forgive yourself, for you would do anything for your children, and would fight the whole world for their sake. 

Read, Sing, Play and Pray with them:
      They don't need you to read to them for much longer. Soon they will learn to read, make friends to play with. So all you have is the few toddler years to hold on to. That is the most frustrating time as well. So remember to say your prayers first thing in the morning, and all throughout the day. With the best of intentions and in the most perfect situations, if you aren't armored with God's protection, you will have much to regret as the day ends. Let them meet their grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins as often as they can. Technology is no substitute for human love. Help them to know it. Say I love you to them everyday, be generous with hugs and kisses; be on the floor with them, play make believe...Be a parent, be a friend. Equip them with life's lessons. You won't be with them forever, and they will be facing the world with what you have equipped them with. Make good use of your limited time. 

As surely as the sun rises, so does the moon :
      Parents and children take turns at playing Angels and demons. But thankfully night gives us perspective, and restores to us our precious angels. We have only so many days to spend with our children, and with every rising of the moon, one more day ends. These little beings sleeping serenely, their breathing so even, the twitching of tiny fingers and feet as they dream - few things on earth are more beautiful than that.

If you wait, you wait forever:
      Don't wait for the weather to improve, for the weekends to arrive, for the colds to go away, for work pressure to come down, for laziness to fly out of the window. They have a way of coming up all the year round. Don't let anything stop you from making plans with your family and sticking to them. Decide to go ahead in spite of obstacles. At no age are these going to stop. Every adventure, every road trip, every walk in the park builds up happy memories and rejuvenates family ties.

Keep a record of everything:
      Photos, videos, audios. Living the moment is all well, but our memories fade, and these recordings bring back the memories. You will never be able to hear those tiny voices ever again for real, or caress their soft cheeks, wipe away their chocolate slathered face, but...you can relive a little bit through these. Just remember to enjoy your children through your eyes, while the camera does its work.

Another 3 years, and hopefully, I'll have some more wisdom to tell my 30 year old self. :D

Two Sentence Stories

   
1. Hearing her sniffs from the kitchen, he ended his whispered telephonic conversation. ''It's the onions'' she said with her back to him, as she finished chopping the tomatoes.

2. ''I need this job to feed my family,'' she lied, with downcast eyes. The qualified candidate with his ailing wife waited for the call that would never come.

3. Forgetting her birthday yet again, he said ''I wanted to surprise you this year by cooking you your favorite dinner,''. She put on her prettiest smile and said, 'You'd love my surprise! I drive you to the supermarket for grocery shopping''

4. ''Nip it in the bud'' decided mother on finding their love note. ''Nipped two buds'' she realized over their suicide note. 

5. The postman had mixed up the addresses again today. While she was happily singing over her baby, the neighbor chocked up with tears, cross marked telegram in her hands.

This dear Lord, is my prayer!

May my children never know pain;
Let my family face no shame;
May no friend ever shed a tear;
This dear Lord, is my prayer!

Breathe in me new life today;
I repent, I listen - for Your voice I await;
May hope, charity and true love prevail;
For this dear Lord, to You I pray!

From dust I came, and to dust I go;
But precious to You, cherished and adored;
All that is mine, to you I Surrender;
Use me, dear Lord, this is my prayer!